INTRO LOG

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[[Exactly what it says on the tin! This is just an initial log to sort of get things started and is largely freeform, open to (but not limited to):

-Meetings before classes start
-First day business
-Dorm shenanigans meetings
-First classes in progress
-or whatever the heck else you want to do for beginning-of-term things!

There's a CR meme up now for some initial planning if you like, or feel free to just hop in here.]]

Comments

[broil]

[He likes that smile. To him, that's the real John. The monster lying in the center of an angry little boy. There aren't many like him in a place like this, not when they're being brainwashed with the dreams and hopes of a day where all will be equal and holding hands to the sound of We are the world.

He doesn't care about any of that. When they found Petre it was too late. There was no boy left, just the monster.]

It's the way I see it. [and he leans back, relaxed again. Like he doesn't have a swollen eye after all.]

Isn't it the way it is?

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[John looks at Petre for a long time. Not an examination or a stare but a roving look, putting pieces together into a whole. He does occasionally land somewhere for a second longer than the others, though, and the thought that Petre's lips always look like he's just been kissed enters his mind for a millisecond before he forces it out.

Eventually, he's just looking Petre in the eye. Both blue-eyed, but John's are so dark that they can be mistaken for brown with a quick look, and Petre's often strike him as unnaturally pale. Negative images, but still similar.]

It's turning purple now. Not really your colour. [The bruise. Don't forget that he will always, always strike back, no matter how powerless you think he is.]

[broil]

[He could stare just for a moment longer; Petre might just forget what self-control is and smack a hand around John's nape, force him closer and prove him right about those lips.

Don't they say that prolonged eye-contact means someone either wants to fight or fuck you? Why not both.

An exhale. There's a smile edging at the corner of his lips.]

Something to remember you by. I knew you really cared.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Just make sure you remember the right things.

[When he breaks the stare and turns his head, it's with a hard swallow. That energy is always present with Petre. John is certain he works to cultivate it. And it always repulses him, but the reaction is so strong. Just once he'dlike to be able to ignore it.]

[broil]

I always remember the right things.

[What's right to him, anyway.

He reaches for John's hand, cups his palm around the flame. No heat, no burn. If that isn't a sign that they're meant to touch - then what is.

But he doesn't make contact. It's just flame, just energy.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[John's very aware of that hand reaching for him, once again coiled to strike, but he looks down in surprise when no touch comes. The symbolism is definitely not lost on him - fire rendered useless by their unique skin, fueled by him, nullified by Petre. It's a gesture of camaraderie and one of control.

Sucking in a breath through clenched teeth, he finally jerks his hand away and puts out the flame with his customary snuffing gesture, fingers folded into his palm. A fist. Not totally lacking in symbolism either.]

[broil]

[The hand closes into a fist. Petre's eyes, gaze soft on their non-touch, becomes all the more incisive when it shifts to John's features. There's no softness there when what he gets in return is angles and danger. Maybe it's Petre's own defense mechanism; not letting anyone in while he tries to look right through them.]

Still afraid of me.

[He retracts, folds his arms over his desk.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Like hell I am.

[that shouldn't be an angry statement. It should be a careless, casual one. But high emotion has a way of making someone's voice too honest.]

[broil]

You punched me because you're afraid, John.

[Afraid of any other kind of touch. Afraid of letting him close.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Stop -

[His fist comes down hard on the desk, but then he forces himself to stop. Grits his teeth. Anger is just feeding into what he's saying - which is all true, spoken and unspoken.]

- stop talking like you know anything about me. We're not that much alike.

[broil]

Of course we are. Why do you think you hate me so much? You can barely stand being in your own skin most of the time.

[let alone being forced to talk to a reflection.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[His breath is coming in short, sharp bursts. Unsteady. This is the moment when he would leave severe scarring on anyone else, or at least blow them into a wall, but that's not an option. He just gets to stew in what Petre's saying.

He glances at the clock on the wall. Somehow, he can't tell if time flew past or dragged. Maybe both.]

Ten more minutes.

[broil]

[He leans his face on a closed hand. Eyes on John.]

Can't wait to run away with your tail between your legs.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Petre. For ten minutes. Just shut up.

[broil]

Not a no.

[but this is.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

And get your mind off what's between my legs.

[Cheap shot. But yeah, he does want to escape. With every fiber of his being.]

[broil]

[And he laughs. Back to square one.]

I wasn't even thinking of that.

[ex_outofcontrol435]

For once.

[everything is circular with them. It works fine for john, as long as the only other option is advancing on petre's terms.]

You going back to the room after this?

[broil]

Of course not. I told you I've got a date.

[he could take him back to their room, but he never does that.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Most of the shit you say is just to get a rise out of me, why would I believe that one?

Poor son of a birch.

[broil]

[His ring finger goes into his mouth. He bites down on it idly, without force, then lets go.]

It'll be nice. He's a nice guy. Likes nice things.

[Unlike you.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

[What is he even - jesus. John looks directly forward again.]

And he's getting you. See why I pity him?

[broil]

[a shrug.]

I can be nice. I can be anything.

[Which means he's... nothing. But that's an issue he doesn't think about.]

[ex_outofcontrol435]

Petre, you know who else says they can be anything you want them to be?

[broil]

[He narrows his eyes, leg shifting just slightly. Maybe it's his own turn to display some impatience now, teeth digging into that finger thoughtfully.]

Hookers?