It's weird, okay. And me and Petre - [don't get along? Only sometimes true. The actual truth, that they're basically caught in an all-out war for one another's psyches, just sounds ridiculous and dramatic without context. And he's not sharing that with a stranger.]
- it's hard to explain. But this would be a damn good prank.
[He takes a deep breath, finally adjusts himself to sit properly in the chair. God, his heart is still racing.]
It's complicated? [ quiet nodding. he's not about to pry into someone's relationship with his doppleganger. that's their business. ...except if they're going to mistake him for him. then he'll want to know. ]
I'm not a prank so. [ can't help being a bit insulted his entire existence "would be a great prank." somewhere osborn sr is nodding his head in agreement with that statement, he thinks. ]
John. Pleasure to meet you despite being mistaken for a massive hallucination. [ he's holding his hand out. please shake it. he can tell that heart's racing. nobody needs to keep that to themselves. ]
Complicated. That's a start. [He shakes his head briskly, like he's trying to shake reality back into place.] You look better with dark hair.
[- oh god, yeah, this is fucking with him. He should probably leave right now.
Instead, he takes the hand and shakes it in a way that makes it obvious that he almost never shakes hands. At the same time, he starts to feel slightly drowsy, but blames it on the weather and - well, rooming with Petre, who never gives him a minute's peace.]
Yeah. Pleasure. How long have you been here? [How long has he totally not seen this.]
Ah ha. I'll be the uncomplicated one then. [ he doesn't do complicated. self-proclaimed statement. accuracy may not apply. harry blinks at him at the remark after then his mouth slowly spreads into a smile, big and genuine. ] Thanks!
[ how about that? two people with the same face and he looks better. that sure made his day. also making his day? hand shaking. physical contact. harry sits straighter, smiles brighter. some pink in the face where it was sickly pale. he pulls his hand back as to not hurt him, to hopefully be unnoticed, once there's a normal allotted time for hand-shaking. ]
Since the start of the school year. So. A little bit. Not a lot. You're not completely blind, at least.
I didn't mean to - [Never mind. If he's that giddy over such a weird, unintentional compliment, then he really is uncomplicated.]
You look like you'd be in the same - [And he cuts off again, this time to yawn widely. Fully unharmed, but goodness, he's sleepy all of a sudden.] - fuck, the same classes, though. Pretty damn blind. And word to the wise - if you've got a roommate, make up some shit about them and get out. Living alone's the only - [A stifled yawn.] - way to do it.
[ harry's drumming his hands on his lap and smiling ear to ear ]
I am in the same classes as you. Have you even been going to them? I usually sit in the back with a pair of sunglasses on so maybe you just ignored the name and never turned around. [ first yawn. harry moves away from him ] I've never had a roommate before. I've done the alone thing. I actually want one.
[ second yawn. his eyebrows go up and his smile falters just slightly ]
Yeah, I go to class. [He smirks a little in response.] Sometimes. Don't pay attention to shit, though, never mind who's around - but I am surprised I missed the douchebag who wears sunglasses inside.
[He means it, but he swears he's not mean. It's just a jab, not a real hit.]
No you don't want a roommate, it's - sorry? [His brows draw down in confusion.] I got a shitty sleep. I do every night. 'Cause my roommate never leaves me alone. I'm not yawning 'cause you're boring.
Douchebag. Well, so much for being better looking...
[ he's not taking it as an actual insult. he sounds more amused than anything ]
But I do want one. [ to increase the energy in the room. maybe that's selfish but waking up alone is ridiculously hard for him. that and he hates being alone in general for various reasons. he pauses, looking at him carefully then letting that smile go right back to being big. ]
Oh. I know I'm not boring. Never-mind then. You're good. You were pretty energetic for a guy with a lack of sleep though. [ WHICH IS GREAT he likes john already ]
Looks have nothing to do with attitude. And I tried to tell you, it's not like how you look matters to me. I just noticed.
[He really did not intend to compliment a dude on his looks, especially not one who looks like Petre. It's been a hell of a few days.]
Get the wrong roommate and you'll eat those words. But yeah, why wouldn't I be good? You're the one who looked like shit when I came in. [Which he - really doesn't anymore.]
[ he bites his lip for a second then squints his eyes at him very slightly ]
I look like shit now? You are really fucking with my ego here, John. [ he rubs his hands up and down his own thighs, fidgety. ] I was just asking. I get concerned about people I talk to.
Look into my eyes and tell me with a straight face you don't think I'm kind of pretty.
[ he points at them. undeniable fact, in his opinion. those are pretty. ]
Pretty much. [ and some other things but he's not going to let john get anything out of his meanness. harry's just all casual talk. he's heard it before. blah blah blah. he's completely apathetic towards it.
but just for being mean he leans over and pats john on the shoulder. friendly pat. pat pat. he's a leech. ]
Not even kind of. [Right into his eyes. He probably couldn't manage it with Petre anymore, but the dark fringe hanging just above those oddly cold eyes is enough to remind him that he's not dealing with Petre. This is one egomaniac he can still dismiss to kingdom come.
Which isn't to say it's true. He's actually obnoxiously attracted to Harry as far as the purely physical goes, because he is like Petre with better hair, but so far he seems so superficial and childish that there's not much beyond that.]
Alright, points for not bitching and whining about getting the wrong kind of car for your birthday like that's some - [God, he's fucking exhausted. There's another yawn.] - kind of - god, I hate rainy days.
[ right into his eyes, which stare at john for a moment - right back. searching. and then they lower. he doesn't seem insulted though. not upset. there's something else in there. john's lying right to his face and he can tell. he's intrigued. ]
Tragedy? [ he finishes the words before the yawn. then he's bouncing in his seat for a second before leaning back. all smiles. all happy energized movement. he's tapping his foot like there's a song in his head it's in tune with. ]
Me too. They're so gloomy. Everyone's so sluggish. It's the worst.
Yeah. [He barely even seems to be paying attention now, sinking more deeply into the chair and - going back to his original posture, actually, stretched out over it so that he can lean his head against the back. His night's sleep wasn't as bad as usual, but he wants to catch a nap very badly for some reason.]
You've got plenty of energy. What the hell kind of five minute cold was that?
Changed my mind about it. Didn't feel like having a cold anymore so it left.
[ casually dismissed. he makes a careless gesture with his hand. it's obviously not true but it says he's not exactly going to explain either. he's shrugging it off and pretending he has no idea.
he's still watching john, never looks away. keeps studying him. ]
[Weirdo. Why would he feel like having a cold in the first place? He's trying to wrap a mutation around it but nothing's coming to mind. And he's studied the records of known mutations from classes about them, one thing he actually studies avidly and without being told.]
What do I do? What the hell kind of question is that for someone in a boarding school. I drag ass around here and try not to die of boredom. [A little smile quirks his lips.] And make sure no one else gets bored either. Or complacent.
[A brief pause.]
Unless you meant my actual mutation, but that was way more coy than you needed to be if you did. [He's wearing a hooded sweatshirt, and a Zippo lighter with the open, blood-red mouth of a shark emblazoned across the lid comes out of its front pocket. He opens and strikes it, just watching the flame flicker for awhile, then makes it swell in such tiny increments that it might take awhile for Harry to notice any change.
Lulling him. He'll get more flashy once he's been declared weak or boring. He likes showing off even more with the element of deception.]
[ though he's interested in both versions of that question. what do you do for fun? what can you do? he intentionally left it open for interpretation. john's replies say an awful lot about himself. he doesn't let people get bored. it's a fascinating thing. he prefers fun to boring any day.
and the mutation. the zippo comes out and harry's eyes light up like john had a gift for him instead of something he was going to show off with. the flame flicks on and he's rubbing his hands together, biting his lip. apparently thrilled enough just to see him pull it out.
and then he slides down so he's close to john again, puts a hand out as if he wants to touch it. like a moth drawn in. something in his eyes like this wild need. fire. fire. fire. one of his favorite things. all energy. quick fix. another addiction. he can never keep a flame going around himself. just drains it. poof. ]
What do you do with it? [ not weak. not boring. but there's obviously something more to it than being able to turn a lighter on.
Whether Harry follows it or not, he'll hold his hand over the flame - not burning him at all, see? - then, with a sudden sweeping motion, raise his arm in a massive arc with the flame trailing along as though it were attached to his palm. And it is, as he proves when he holds his hand upright and it's still settled there. Tame and harmless as a heeling dog.
Just as suddenly, a tongue of it rushes toward Harry's face, stopping just below his chin. Close enough for the heat to be uncomfortable, but not to burn or even discolour.]
[ he doesn't want to back up. he wants to put his hands over the flames and feel the heat and take it. he doesn't listen but he's watching - eyes following the flame very carefully. drawn right into it like it's the most important thing in the room.
john controls it. john makes it bigger. john's got an endless supply of power at his fingertips and harry's excited and his heart's racing. he jerks his head back a little at the rush towards his face - involuntary reaction. two for flinching. the heat is uncomfortable but he likes it. heat. power. energy. give it give it. he inhales a breath, smile far too wide and thrilled for someone having fire shoved towards their face threatening to burn him alive if john loses control. maybe it dims a bit - maybe not. but harry's taking it in. ]
I think you have my favorite one so far! [ oh god. too loud. too excited. heavy breaths. his legs are bouncing up and down in his seat. wringing his hands around. he makes a wide gesture. you're his favorite. ]
[He has literally never seen someone else as excited about fire as he gets. It's not just in the exclamation - he recognises the unnatural brightness in Harry's eyes even before the flame illuminates his face from below (an attractive angle for him, which is unusual with light), the jittery movements, the involuntary pull inward even as he appears to know on some level that fire should be driving him back. This isn't a love born from DNA, the constant pulsing of information in his mind and bloodstream, but a completely pure one.
(So he thinks. The energy is just as vital to Harry as the fire itself is to John, but from outside, he just looks like a gleeful pyromaniac. And that is appealing.)
Slowly, John wets his lips, now giving Harry just as close scrutiny. The flame withdraws back into his palm after a moment, and he snuffs it out with his fingers - can't give a child candy whenever they want or they won't appreciate it anymore. Lighter back into his pocket. The show's over.]
You've got good taste. [He smirks lazily, as though it were a compliment about anything he'd been able to control or cultivate himself, not a fluke of genetics.] Weird, now that I think of it - a pyrokinetic who's never met a firebug.
[ no. come back. he swallows, hard. what a rush. there's a hand on his chest because it's pounding and he can hear it. thump thump. he thinks his hand is shaking. he's never had fire in his face before like that. it's like taking a hit out of his favorite drug. he's on his feet, idly pacing now. too much fuel. can't sit still.
he always liked fire. harry could definitely be considered a legitimate pyromaniac, if only because of what fire gives him. a rush. lights him up the same time it gets lit up. it's wild. uncontrollable (until now) and makes him want to bounce off the damn walls. ]
Thank you.
[ he does have good taste. he thinks he has good taste in everything. ]
Never? You've been missing out. I could be your first. [ take that as you will. ]
[He's so used to come-ons from that face that it almost flies right past him, but this is someone different. The voice isn't right. The hair isn't right. He thinks Harry is a bit shorter now that he's standing, maybe even smaller than John himself. Similar, but not an exact replica.
And he doesn't really mind how it sounds coming from Harry.
Watching him is hilarious, though. He really did get a rush from that, didn't he? God, he'll be fun to have around. Always encouraging, never dissuading - real fuel for John's fire. He's made another connection, different from his war with Petre, his delicate friendship with Ryan, his mentor role with Neku; it's one he can't yet figure out how to label, but knows he wants to keep alive.]
They say the first one's free, right? [His hand settles lightly over that front pocket.] I'm not a trained monkey. You've gotta keep me entertained, too.
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- it's hard to explain. But this would be a damn good prank.
[He takes a deep breath, finally adjusts himself to sit properly in the chair. God, his heart is still racing.]
Harry. Alright. I'm John.
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I'm not a prank so. [ can't help being a bit insulted his entire existence "would be a great prank." somewhere osborn sr is nodding his head in agreement with that statement, he thinks. ]
John. Pleasure to meet you despite being mistaken for a massive hallucination. [ he's holding his hand out. please shake it. he can tell that heart's racing. nobody needs to keep that to themselves. ]
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[- oh god, yeah, this is fucking with him. He should probably leave right now.
Instead, he takes the hand and shakes it in a way that makes it obvious that he almost never shakes hands. At the same time, he starts to feel slightly drowsy, but blames it on the weather and - well, rooming with Petre, who never gives him a minute's peace.]
Yeah. Pleasure. How long have you been here? [How long has he totally not seen this.]
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[ how about that? two people with the same face and he looks better. that sure made his day. also making his day? hand shaking. physical contact. harry sits straighter, smiles brighter. some pink in the face where it was sickly pale. he pulls his hand back as to not hurt him, to hopefully be unnoticed, once there's a normal allotted time for hand-shaking. ]
Since the start of the school year. So. A little bit. Not a lot. You're not completely blind, at least.
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You look like you'd be in the same - [And he cuts off again, this time to yawn widely. Fully unharmed, but goodness, he's sleepy all of a sudden.] - fuck, the same classes, though. Pretty damn blind. And word to the wise - if you've got a roommate, make up some shit about them and get out. Living alone's the only - [A stifled yawn.] - way to do it.
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I am in the same classes as you. Have you even been going to them? I usually sit in the back with a pair of sunglasses on so maybe you just ignored the name and never turned around. [ first yawn. harry moves away from him ] I've never had a roommate before. I've done the alone thing. I actually want one.
[ second yawn. his eyebrows go up and his smile falters just slightly ]
Don't fall asleep on me. I'm sorry.
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[He means it, but he swears he's not mean. It's just a jab, not a real hit.]
No you don't want a roommate, it's - sorry? [His brows draw down in confusion.] I got a shitty sleep. I do every night. 'Cause my roommate never leaves me alone. I'm not yawning 'cause you're boring.
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[ he's not taking it as an actual insult. he sounds more amused than anything ]
But I do want one. [ to increase the energy in the room. maybe that's selfish but waking up alone is ridiculously hard for him. that and he hates being alone in general for various reasons. he pauses, looking at him carefully then letting that smile go right back to being big. ]
Oh. I know I'm not boring. Never-mind then. You're good. You were pretty energetic for a guy with a lack of sleep though. [ WHICH IS GREAT he likes john already ]
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[He really did not intend to compliment a dude on his looks, especially not one who looks like Petre. It's been a hell of a few days.]
Get the wrong roommate and you'll eat those words. But yeah, why wouldn't I be good? You're the one who looked like shit when I came in. [Which he - really doesn't anymore.]
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[ he bites his lip for a second then squints his eyes at him very slightly ]
I look like shit now? You are really fucking with my ego here, John. [ he rubs his hands up and down his own thighs, fidgety. ] I was just asking. I get concerned about people I talk to.
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[Everyone knows what 'look like shit' means. It's not like he's saying the guy's shoes didn't work with his belt - whatever the fuck that would mean.]
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[ it's all said in such a joking tone. ha ha he's a joke. ]
I'm just poking fun. I'm not sick though. Not now. [ thank you, john ]
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[Again, just making that completely clear.]
But you're a trust fund baby, huh? Explains a lot. Your face and hair are probably all you've ever had to give a shit about.
[Now he's getting a bit mean.]
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[ he points at them. undeniable fact, in his opinion. those are pretty. ]
Pretty much. [ and some other things but he's not going to let john get anything out of his meanness. harry's just all casual talk. he's heard it before. blah blah blah. he's completely apathetic towards it.
but just for being mean he leans over and pats john on the shoulder. friendly pat. pat pat. he's a leech. ]
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Which isn't to say it's true. He's actually obnoxiously attracted to Harry as far as the purely physical goes, because he is like Petre with better hair, but so far he seems so superficial and childish that there's not much beyond that.]
Alright, points for not bitching and whining about getting the wrong kind of car for your birthday like that's some - [God, he's fucking exhausted. There's another yawn.] - kind of - god, I hate rainy days.
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Tragedy? [ he finishes the words before the yawn. then he's bouncing in his seat for a second before leaning back. all smiles. all happy energized movement. he's tapping his foot like there's a song in his head it's in tune with. ]
Me too. They're so gloomy. Everyone's so sluggish. It's the worst.
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You've got plenty of energy. What the hell kind of five minute cold was that?
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[ casually dismissed. he makes a careless gesture with his hand. it's obviously not true but it says he's not exactly going to explain either. he's shrugging it off and pretending he has no idea.
he's still watching john, never looks away. keeps studying him. ]
So what do you do, John?
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What do I do? What the hell kind of question is that for someone in a boarding school. I drag ass around here and try not to die of boredom. [A little smile quirks his lips.] And make sure no one else gets bored either. Or complacent.
[A brief pause.]
Unless you meant my actual mutation, but that was way more coy than you needed to be if you did. [He's wearing a hooded sweatshirt, and a Zippo lighter with the open, blood-red mouth of a shark emblazoned across the lid comes out of its front pocket. He opens and strikes it, just watching the flame flicker for awhile, then makes it swell in such tiny increments that it might take awhile for Harry to notice any change.
Lulling him. He'll get more flashy once he's been declared weak or boring. He likes showing off even more with the element of deception.]
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[ though he's interested in both versions of that question. what do you do for fun? what can you do? he intentionally left it open for interpretation. john's replies say an awful lot about himself. he doesn't let people get bored. it's a fascinating thing. he prefers fun to boring any day.
and the mutation. the zippo comes out and harry's eyes light up like john had a gift for him instead of something he was going to show off with. the flame flicks on and he's rubbing his hands together, biting his lip. apparently thrilled enough just to see him pull it out.
and then he slides down so he's close to john again, puts a hand out as if he wants to touch it. like a moth drawn in. something in his eyes like this wild need. fire. fire. fire. one of his favorite things. all energy. quick fix. another addiction. he can never keep a flame going around himself. just drains it. poof. ]
What do you do with it? [ not weak. not boring. but there's obviously something more to it than being able to turn a lighter on.
can he have it? he wants it. needs it. ]
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Whether Harry follows it or not, he'll hold his hand over the flame - not burning him at all, see? - then, with a sudden sweeping motion, raise his arm in a massive arc with the flame trailing along as though it were attached to his palm. And it is, as he proves when he holds his hand upright and it's still settled there. Tame and harmless as a heeling dog.
Just as suddenly, a tongue of it rushes toward Harry's face, stopping just below his chin. Close enough for the heat to be uncomfortable, but not to burn or even discolour.]
Whatever I want.
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john controls it. john makes it bigger. john's got an endless supply of power at his fingertips and harry's excited and his heart's racing. he jerks his head back a little at the rush towards his face - involuntary reaction. two for flinching. the heat is uncomfortable but he likes it. heat. power. energy. give it give it. he inhales a breath, smile far too wide and thrilled for someone having fire shoved towards their face threatening to burn him alive if john loses control. maybe it dims a bit - maybe not. but harry's taking it in. ]
I think you have my favorite one so far! [ oh god. too loud. too excited. heavy breaths. his legs are bouncing up and down in his seat. wringing his hands around. he makes a wide gesture. you're his favorite. ]
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(So he thinks. The energy is just as vital to Harry as the fire itself is to John, but from outside, he just looks like a gleeful pyromaniac. And that is appealing.)
Slowly, John wets his lips, now giving Harry just as close scrutiny. The flame withdraws back into his palm after a moment, and he snuffs it out with his fingers - can't give a child candy whenever they want or they won't appreciate it anymore. Lighter back into his pocket. The show's over.]
You've got good taste. [He smirks lazily, as though it were a compliment about anything he'd been able to control or cultivate himself, not a fluke of genetics.] Weird, now that I think of it - a pyrokinetic who's never met a firebug.
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he always liked fire. harry could definitely be considered a legitimate pyromaniac, if only because of what fire gives him. a rush. lights him up the same time it gets lit up. it's wild. uncontrollable (until now) and makes him want to bounce off the damn walls. ]
Thank you.
[ he does have good taste. he thinks he has good taste in everything. ]
Never? You've been missing out. I could be your first. [ take that as you will. ]
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And he doesn't really mind how it sounds coming from Harry.
Watching him is hilarious, though. He really did get a rush from that, didn't he? God, he'll be fun to have around. Always encouraging, never dissuading - real fuel for John's fire. He's made another connection, different from his war with Petre, his delicate friendship with Ryan, his mentor role with Neku; it's one he can't yet figure out how to label, but knows he wants to keep alive.]
They say the first one's free, right? [His hand settles lightly over that front pocket.] I'm not a trained monkey. You've gotta keep me entertained, too.
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did you mean: mutants?
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