fifthcurriculum | INTRO LOG

And that wasn't weird to you? Some random guy picking you up the first time you met? He really did see you coming.

[His hands ball into fists. He's angry on Ryan's behalf, really, but it's ending up directed at him because - well, that's what John knows how to do.]

No, no, now that makes total sense. He had you lined up, and he's so convinced I secretly want him that he figured it'd just eat me up knowing that there was someone else who could take my place. Jesus, he's fucking insane, you have to see that.

[Having it directed at him just makes him assume John's blaming him for that behavior- his brows furrow into a deeper frown, and he's curling up against himself much like John had when he first settled onto the bed.]

I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was supposed to second-guess anyone who has any interest in me! Must've forgotten nobody actually would, what was I fucking thinking, right?

[Ryan tugs his glasses off and reaches up to rub at his face, huffing out a frustrated breath.]

I'm not saying I don't believe you, okay, I'm saying I didn't have any reason to suspect anything. I don't know what you want from me, John.

That is not what I meant. Don't make it personal. He's a fucking creep, I just don't see -

[Okay, this is getting nowhere. He's not admitting how he really feels about this - the actual fear he has for Ryan - when they barely know one another and it'll probably sound just as creepy. With a sharp breath of his own, he stops and turns to face Ryan more seriously.]

All he wants is to use people. That's it. No one is gonna change that. Use them and crush them. Just - don't be any more stupid than you have already.

(I'm making it personal? You're the one getting mad at me for it--)

[It's more distressed than angry, and Ryan's obviously tense when John turns to face him, clinging tightly to himself. There's a little flash of that previous irritation at his last words, but he nods anyway, not relaxing.]

I know it wasn't going to be anything serious, I'm not stupid. And I'm not doing it again.

[His shoulders slowly start to drop, and then his fists unclench.]

I'm not mad at you.

[This time he actually falls backward onto the bed, lying with his legs draped over the edge, scowling up at the ceiling.]

I'm actually pretty close to going crazy. So whatever, take or leave all of this shit.

[He's quiet for a bit, not quite ready to keep going or to start unfolding himself- and he's still not ready for the latter by the time he answers.]

I do believe you, okay? I'm not gonna let it happen again if he's been doing all of this shit to you. But I didn't know about it then and you were pissy about it happening and-

[There's another short sound, barely audible- distressed instead of amused, this time.]

I'm sorry.

You're here. [He drapes an arm over his eyes.] If Petre was here, I would've given him shit. But don't stay away because of me, for god's sake, do it for yourself. There's better here, there's gotta be.

[An unspoken you deserve better.]

I know.

[Pointedly not looking back over at him, trying to avoid giving him the wrong idea about that answer. He's some of the only good company Ryan's had since he got here; he's also totally out of the question, nevermind that they're not even close.]

[He's the one who finally rolls his head over to look at Ryan, mouth hitching into a slight smile.]

So no stalker advice, huh. Fat load of good you did me.

[That finally gets him back out of the tense little shell, reaching over to shove at John's shoulder with a roll of his eyes.]

Thought you didn't want advice. This isn't therapy, right?

More like a support group. [It takes work, but he keeps the bitterness out of his voice.

And then, unexpectedly, he's sharing. The deep down problems, the crux of the matter.]

Sometimes he just turns around and says he wants to be friends. That's it. Try to change his rules for it and it's all off again, but - last year I thought we were. Right up until he turned on me. But it's my fault we can't be friends, 'cause causing some shit around here works for me but being the scapegoat every time doesn't. Having him pick at me for personal shit and know just want to say to get what he wants doesn't work.

I know shitall about friends, but that's not what it'd be about for me. But shit, he makes it all sound magical for a few seconds.

It's not what it's supposed to be about.

[Quiet, but firm.]

I know you know he's being manipulative, but that definitely isn't 'being friends'. Not even if you stretch it pretty far. And there's better here than that.

[After a pause he huffs out a short, breathless laugh.]

This's more like it, honestly- I mean, I know you said you don't do this, but just. Talking about things like that. Hanging out.

[You deserve better. That's what he'd meant when he said that to Ryan. Having it thrown back makes him wonder if he knew, because John just gave him righteous shit for, essentially, being a bit irresponsible. He doubts Ryan has a lot of positive opinions on what he does and doesn't deserve in a friend.]

Hey. I know you said it's not getting serious. [He look up at Ryan intensely, darkly.] Just - if it starts to sound too good, and definitely way fucking better than he can offer? Don't forget this. Don't miss the manipulation 'cause it's happening to you.

[Now it's a bit more clear that he was worried. One silly afternoon spent together, nearly getting in trouble and nearly fighting and mostly just laughing at stupid things, and John's concerned for his welfare. There is some kind of draw there, although he doesn't know what it was for Petre yet.

He isn't entirely sure what it is for him yet, just that it's there.]

More of when we met, less of the losing my mind over a psycho, and maybe I could do friends.

[... was that an offer?]

[The concern there softens some of the irritation of feeling scolded for what he'd done. Having someone worry about him is new, at least from someone around his own age-- sometimes adults worry, teachers do, but not people like John. Ryan's the one who does all the fretting, always.]

I'll keep it in mind. Promise.

[And then he manages a little grin, adds:]

Not losing your mind's all up to you, I don't do that kind of telepathy- but I think I could manage more of when we met. Deal?

[He offers a hand out to John, one brow quirked.]

[He props himself up on his elbows, eyeing Ryan's hand. This isn't signing his life away, like it would be with Petre - if they have a falling out, they'll just ignore one another, not launch into some bloody war for one another's sanity - but agreeing to a friendship still feels strange. He doesn't know if that's how it works or if they're just supposed to happen. If he prefers the clarity or not.

Finally, he sits up and shakes Ryan's hand with a surprisingly tentative smile.]

Yeah. Deal.

[That tentative smile's met with a bright, pleased one from Ryan, hand squeezing John's for just a moment before he lets go. He's had friends, it's not like it's a first-- but it sort of is here, after he'd kept to himself so much, gotten a reputation for being solitary and silent.]

-so what d'you think, you wanna stay here, or find something to do?

There's nothing to do around here that isn't trouble, and for once, I'm not in the mood. [He shifts to lean against the wall again, legs up and bent but not tucked against his body anymore.] We're supposed to talk, right? I know pretty much nothing about you. Where are you from? How'd you end up here?

[Things he never asks because he doesn't want them rebounded back on himself. But he's doing the friend thing, so here goes nothing.]

[It's a good sign, he thinks, and he's still got a faint smile on his face even as he starts considering-- and starts to relax, unfolding himself.]

I'm from a little further upstate. Not too far. And, well, I guess I got here the same way anyone does- at least whose parents actually know, anyway. They're not under any impressions that I'm just at a gifted boarding school or something.

[He shrugs slightly, smile fading. One leg stretches out, but he's keeping the other pulled up.]

Manifesting was kind of rough, they... got pretty freaked out having me in their heads and not being able to make it stop. I was here after a few days.

Another lifelong New Yorker? [It's not exactly sensitive information, he thinks.] I'd never even been out of the boroughs 'til I came here. That city's a love-hate thing, fuck all the songs.

[And that's a bit more personal, but Ryan knows he was homeless. He probably gets that elaboration on that topic is a no-no.]

I don't think anyone gets an easy manifestation, man. Maybe if they've got the fairy godmother gene or something. [His expression turns deeply uncomfortable, latent anger just below the surface.] You still talk to them? Your family?

Edited 2014-09-20 21:44 (UTC)

I went to the city once. It was a little terrifying, not gonna lie, but- in a good way.

[That's all he's saying, because yeah, he knows not to push. Ryan shifts a bit uncomfortably, chewing at his lower lip.]

We sort of talk. I mean, I write, they write back and keep it pretty brief. I don't go home on breaks.

[It sounds like that's all, but he continues after a beat of silence.]

They don't like being around it. Telepathy. When I said it was a rough manifestation, I mean-- look, you know how I am now and this is after a year, right? I overhear things now. At the very beginning it was like... like a direct connection to people's minds, any time they were too close, everything went right into my head and my thoughts went right into theirs. More than one person and I didn't know what I was thinking anymore.

Still happens sometimes. Not often, but sometimes.

I did say love-hate. Stick around long enough and you'll get the hate.

[He listens to Ryan talk about his family, and he really tries to find some sympathy or even a shred of positive emotion, but he can't. They'll write letters. They'll communicate somehow. They found a way to make it work despite much more dire circumstances. His face just keeps twisting up more and more, and the deep, deep bitterness in his expression is quite obviously at least half unhappiness, as much as he's trying to mask it with anger.]

They're trying. Better than a lot of people can say about theirs around here.

...yeah. Yeah, they are.

[There's a flicker of guilt, at that. They're trying. Sure, it feels like they're partly doing it out of obligation, but- even so, they wouldn't feel that obligation if they didn't care on some level. If they really, truly didn't care he just wouldn't get responses at all.

Ryan doesn't really know what to do about that unhappiness in his face, the bitterness; nothing, most likely. It doesn't seem like the kind of thing he can soothe. But it doesn't stop him from wanting to, or from trying-- and so he scoots over to settle next to John, not setting a hand on him, just putting himself there to be a solid, warm presence against him.]

[As soon as Ryan settles in next to him, totally breaking their code for the sake of comfort, he knows he's let his face give away too much and flashes a blithe (but slightly cold) smile.]

I'm fine, man. They didn't want me and I didn't need them. Worked out great for everyone.

Dunno, I'd rather think it didn't work out so great for them.

[He sighs, quietly, makes sure he's leaning back against the wall enough not to rest his weight on John and make it seem like he's getting too comfortable. It's not a topic to push, John's not the type who seems to want comfort or sympathy, but he can't help but feel-- a little angry, actually, on his behalf, because-]

(who has the fucking right)

[-but he tries to let it go, to keep that flicker of it from passing over, unaware it's already too late.]

[He's more serious at that, turning to face Ryan despite their close proximity.]

Don't waste your time on that. There's a million like me out there. You're the rare one. Get pissed off for all of us and you'll -

[- be him. Be John. And at gunpoint, he might admit that he likes how laid-back and relaxed Ryan is in comparison to his own temper.]

- it's just a waste of time. It's how it works. Don't take on other peoples' shit.

INTRO LOG

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