snarky
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Post by snarky on Jun 23, 2009 19:15:09 GMT -5
Oh wasn't it just the most perfect of coincidences that Klint would happen to take a shower, the same night that Claude decided to meander out of his room and for once in his life take care of himself. He rolled his eyes non chalantly as he heard Claude his something under his breath, probably under the lines of "goddamnit" if Claude was feeling anything like he was, which was obvious from the way he was no longer in a playfull mood, shaving off different styles into his facial hair. He raised a brow as Claude's face held a hitler mustache for a moment, before being covered with another slather of shaving cream, to evolve into god knows what. He coudlnt help but internally smirk, noticing a newly applied bandaid on his face. Of course he would hurt himself shaving... He leaned against the nearest wall, still mussing his hair with the towel as he watched Claude warily, not even seeming to notice the small first year.
He ignored the first comment, as Claude's opinion of him didn't really matter. So what if he thought Klint was messed up in the head? No matter how bad Klint was, Claude was about five times worse. His face twitched into a scowl as the taller boy remarked about his height, something he was very sensitive about at times, especially in the company of someone that he despised, for lack of a stronger word. Well..he probably didn't go so far as to hate Claude. He just found the other boy a constant thorn in his side whenever he saw him; a huge annoyance in his otherwise already irritating life.. He snorted lightly before easily saying "Unlike you, I don't need to jack off in the shower. I can at least get some action..." he let his voice trail off, a smirk on his face. He opened his mouth to say something else before he felt a cold fingertip tracing something on his chest. He jerked back, his back hitting the marble wall and causing him to grimace. "What the FUCK?" he barked loudly, glaring down at the first year. "Are you doing?"
He stared at Christian with a dumbfound look on his face, before it suddenly clicked that Christian was talking about the scars that lined his chest. Ah fuck. The last person he would've wanted to see those would be Claude. He was already self conscious about them, and the fact that the person he could say he hated most at Eddingborough had seen them embarrassed him beyond belief. Sure, he was probably overreacting, but he couldn't help but imagine Claude flaunting around school, telling everybody. To be honest, Claude probably wouldn't even care or notice unless he realized how distressed they made Klint.
His eyes flickered from Claude to Christian several times, wondering who the hell the kid in front of him thought he was. He raised his towel, knocking Chris's hands away in the process, and laid it around his neck so that it covered most of his chest without looking to obvious. He took the ointment out of Christian's hand, looking at it curiously before tossing it at Claude, idly hoping that it would bounce of his razor and maybe cut him
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Miss Murder
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Post by Miss Murder on Jun 23, 2009 19:46:23 GMT -5
Having his hands knocked away made Christian looked confused. He was expecting help, but rather was caught up in an argument between two rivals. His bad luck had snared him in yet another trap. Relieved as Klint accepted the ointment he smiled a bit. However, that act was nothing more than an attack on the blue eyed acquaintance of his. He glanced over his shoulder in Claude's direction to make sure he was alright. "Get AIDs?" he asked his face turning a bleach white. His worst fear had been realized, and soon he'd be on his death bed with a white rose pressed to his chest. Ohhh, oh, it was too much.
"N-no way," the first year stuttered and backed away slowly. Klint seemed clearly pissed off and having Claude barking weird things didn't help. "I'm sorry," he said a bit distressed by the situation. "I didn't mean anything. I just wanted to help..." feeling ashamed his face bowed downward to look at the tiles lining the bathroom floor. "I do things without thinking mostly. It wasn't intentional, honestly." He remained silent for a few minutes before coming out in sudden out burst.
Suddenly, Christian's head popped up and he looked straightly at Klint, "I don't want AIDs! I don't want to die! No! NO! I might as well go pee in the public showers and scratch my crotch and go laugh! Then bite some random hobo on the neck and spread my disease! Then mother will reject me as her son, but she'll have to be sympathetic because I'm dying!" breathing heavily the boy's voice echoed in the bathroom momentarily. An awkward silence seemed to belong to Christian after that. He stood still as if frozen in time with his hands held up in the air and his face a pale, white. Christian was never cool or collected, but when he lost it he went over the moon twice and back again.
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Sarah
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Post by Sarah on Jun 24, 2009 10:24:52 GMT -5
The churlish attitude in the tallest brunette boy had past, the razor gliding down across his chin and jaw to simply rid of the hair-- rather than to play with it. He wanted in and out as soon as possible, and yet, he also wanted to pester the short, scarred boy. Ever since the occurence under the tree some odd amount ago, Claude hadn't forgot. It wasn't that the boy held grudges, it was the fact that when seeing Klint, the incident was always the first to come to his mind.
Dark brows rose, mocking surprise at what Mr. Acker found to say next. It wasn't anything that Claude didn't expect-- he found the other to be rather predictable at times. But, then again, what had happened on a humid day in which the other boy burned him with a cigarette butt, kicked in the groin and kissed all in one sitting was not predictable.
"Get some action?" He repeated coolly. "Oh, you mean from homos. Gotcha." He smiled slightly, nodding as if he understood. "Because, well, we all know you wouldn't be able to get a female virgin to give you a lap dance, let alone sex. Now, a guy-- all too easy." he shrugged. "Get some Bud Lite and party's on, huh Klint?" He rose a casual brow, but the smirk on his face was everything but everyday-- except for the fact that it worked itself upon his lips everyday.
However, when Klint cursed, Claude was surprised it wasn't in his direction. Rather so, it was to the first year-- that poor kid. He had a thing with working himself into the worst of situations, all while trying to help. It looked like the kid was punished for doing a good deed-- even though that deed was performed in an awkward sense. Claude snorted a laugh, his smirk only increasing. "Oh, piss off, Acker," He said simply, looking through the mirror at the two. Chris seemed especially disheartened. "The kid was being nice, dumb ass." But, he also knew Klint's position quiet well. He too had been in an awkward situation with the boy.
As Klint raised the towel to around his chest, Claude snorted again. "You have boobs or something, pussy?" He asked, blinking. What was trying to be hidden though was seen to Claude, causing him to grin slightly. At any other time, or on any other person, he wouldn't see the marks as something to attack on. Rather, he would be like Chrisitan and ask of them curiously. "Damn," he said faintly, turning back to shaving. "Playing around with that blade of yours gone wrong?" He asked Klint.
That seemed to be the trigger when the tube of ointment was thrown his way, and bounced off the razor into the sink. In the process, though, it had made it unsteady in Claude's hand and causing himself to be cut, yet again. He muttered a curse towards the burning sensation, and turned on the water to wet his hand, and place over it. He gave Chris a very pointed look-- hoping that it was understood to not help him like he had before.
But, the youngest boy turned pale, and Claude was certain it wasn't from the sight of his wound. Rather, the question that followed. Claude nodded quickly. "It's the homo diesease." he said calmly, glancing at Klint out of the corner of his eye. "And, Klint would be a homo...therefore, Klint is likely to have it."
And then Chris went off the deep end.
It was only more amusement to him.
A smile broadened on Claude's bruised lips as the boy went on and on, about something he didn't have. Oh, he was only too guilliable, and too worried about his health. And it was priceless. Claude was silent with the rest of the boys, before he started to howl with his own laughter. This kid was a nut, and it was hilarious. Really, it was cruel which Claude actually saw for once, but it was hilarious also.
Poor, poor Chrissy.
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snarky
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Post by snarky on Jun 26, 2009 21:48:26 GMT -5
Needless to say, Klint was more than just irritated now. He wasn't quite pissed, though, but he was getting there quicker than you could imagine. He had never been one to really try and harness his temper, and so it came and went with its own will, often mercilessly. He could feel his jaw clench as he heard Claude's careless sentence of Because Im more than certain that Acker's in need of some of that more than scar clean up shit". It wasnt really the fact that Claude was now going on about Klint having aids, which was most certainly not true, but it was more so that Claude now knew that he was self consious about his scars. Had he been able to think about it at the time, he would've been able to realise that he was more angry at himself for letting Claude know that..but well...he wasnt really that into thinking at the moment.
He looked down at the rather pathetic boy, now backing away from him in what looked like fear. Really? That kid was...ridiculous, for lack of a better word. Briefly pausing, maybe thinking of telling the kid that it was okay, he was distracted as Claude's voice once again echoed off the marble walls. A mocking smirk twitched at his lips as he listened to Claude. Really? Not to mention the fact that virgin girls usually couldnt even give a lap dance,well, a good one anyways. His eyes lit up a bit as he replied "Yeah..you would know that all you need is a bit of Bud Lite and a couple of horny guys. Had some expierience? Probably not...I'm guessing your still an innocent little virgin"
Yes, he was being rather immature about the whole situtation now. But..he couldnt really help it. Especially around Claude. His..immature side came out around that kid, and not in the good way either. It was the more irritable, angsty immature side, which as we could see from past expierience, could lead to some very interesting situtations.
He ignored Claude's comment about his scars as easily as he could, knowing that if he gave any sign of it bothering him Claude would give him hell. for it later. The tube of ointment hitting the razor and cutting into Claude gave him little satisfaction, really it hadn't hurt Claude nearly enough. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a sudden outburst from a certain Christian that he had forgotten about.
"I don't want AIDs! I don't want to die! No! NO! I might as well go pee in the public showers and scratch my crotch and go laugh! Then bite some random hobo on the neck and spread my disease! Then mother will reject me as her son, but she'll have to be sympathetic because I'm dying!" He listened to his whole rant wordlessly, his face changing from a look of surprise to a look that said "This kid is retarded..and has major problems? For a moment it was silent, save for Christian's heavy breathing, sounding like he had just run four miles. THen of course, Claude felt the need to laugh. Not just laugh..but to guffaw. The sound irritated Klint and he felt his hand go up automaticlly to pinch the bridge of his nose. GodDAMN something was wrong with just about everyone in the bathroom. He let out an irritable sigh, suddenly feeling rather tired, mostly out of not wanting to be in the same small, cramped room with Claude....It really just caused problems.
"Alright then..." he said after a few seconds of awkward silence. "I Think ill just be...going then.." he said slowly, as if to not frighten Christian anymore. He narrowed his eyes, realising that he had to pass by both of them to get out. Well...they'd better not give him any problems with leaving.
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Miss Murder
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Post by Miss Murder on Jun 26, 2009 22:42:07 GMT -5
After the few, brief, moments of silence the room was disturbed by Claude's hysterical laughter. Much to Christian's discomfort it didn't stop after a short while, but was long and dragged out. Chris would have turned to the boy and warn him if he continued any longer he'd get the hiccups. However, he as too ashamed to turn and look at the third year any longer. Feeling heat crawl up his face, and his nose began to feel itchy again, he bowed his head yet again. This time, he would not lift it too soon.
Wondering, whether he should flee from the restrooms that evening without his things or just bear with it until things turned around. Then, if he did run he'd have to come back sooner or later that night for his things. Either that or Claude would show up at his dorm with his pack. One option the boy would not consider was running back to grab his things quickly and then leaving. The idea was immediately crossed out when it came to the chance of him dropping his this or seeing Claude's overbearing, laughing face. Oh, no he would not allow that to happen. Christian could already picture himself spilling hair gel, toothpaste, his toothbrush and mouthwash all over the place. Then his sad attempt, while being laughed at and dammed with eternal humiliation, to pick it all up.
Klint seemed pretty pissed of and a little humiliated by Claude. Was Claude really that intimidating? The boy seemed so nice, but the Christian was completely bound up by his laughter. Then it was Chrissy's fault for freaking out in the first place, and the third year had been at his defense. Shouldn't he at least feel a little grateful to him? When the boy had been cut for the second time he had sent off the single he didn't want any of Chris's assistance. Which, in normal situations he would have gave anyway, but now he was too embarrassed to move let alone help Claude.
When Klint began toward the door Christian let it pass for a moment. However, when he figured he'd be stuck with Claude in complete awkwardness again he launched himself at the other boy like he was a savior. Forgetting all about AIDs, but rather the fact that he'd rather not be left alone with Claude in that room he grabbed the boy's arm without thinking. Glaring at Klint through heavy eyelashes he mouthed the words, "Don't leave me here." Hoping he got the message Chris held onto the boy's arm with all his might. If he was to suffer than the other boy would have to too. They'd escape together or neither would escape at all. Ho ho.
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Sarah
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Post by Sarah on Jun 27, 2009 11:01:30 GMT -5
(Omfg, you people make me laugh my ass off. xD This definitely makes my day.)
Who would have known that having Klint Acker in the same restroom as the two boys could turn out to be something this.... hilarious. Fun, even. Or, rather, it was a cruel sort of fun that seemed to only be availible for Claude. No one was putting him down at the moment, though it would be quite easy to do. Hell, Claude was surprised that Chrissy hadn't made a show of the tattoo he had left visable. Then again, maybe the first year hadn't seen it. He hoped so.
His laughter faded a moment too late, and even then, a wry smile worked itself upon Claude's face. And, thankfully, he stopped before he did get the hiccups, like Chris would have advised. Letting out a careful, amused sigh, Claude leaned back against the porcilien sinks, staring at the other two. As for his snide comment to Klint, the point Claude was trying to make was the fact that of course Klint would sleep around with more men than women. The point seemed to get across, but not as pointedly as he would have liked.
"Experience with horny guys?" Claude repeated, both brows raised. He simply shook his head. "Only with horny girls, Acker. Then again, you wouldn't know what that's like-- what woman would get in bed with you anyway?" Mentally, Claude made his list to his own question: Prostitutes "Innocent little virgin?" He echoed. "Yeah. Innocent." He snorted. "And virgin? I think no." he said coolly.
The two's feuding was taking it rather out of control. They were both being immature, and it was almost as if Chris had vanished. Claude half liked the kid though it probably wasn't obvious on how he had laughed at the other. And, otherwise, he wouldn't have stood up for the boy if he hadn't liked him even just slightly.
As Klint announced the fact that he was leaving, Claude grinned wide and triumphant. So, the first to walk away was the pussy, and the last man standing was the winner. That was how Claude's mind worked it out, at least. He smirked into the mirror as he turned around to finish shaving away at his face. However, when seeing Chris grab his arms, Claude rose his brows. The boy had just been terrified of the other, or rather of what he could have, and yet was there some sort of an alliance forming? What the hell? That was a little discouraging.... but oh well. Claude would get over it. He always did.
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snarky
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Post by snarky on Sept 7, 2009 16:09:13 GMT -5
Really now...Klint couldnt decide weither he was having fun with Claude or if he was just getting irritated. It was always amusing to "talk" to claude, get rid of all the annoying immaturity that Klint stored up over time, but then again...Claude was just so immature himself that it nearly overwhelmed Klint. He almost snorted as Claude denied being a virgin...something that Klint found very hard to believe. Really...who would get in bed with Claude? Prostitutes? he thought to himself vaugely, arching a brow.
Well, at least he would never know that Claude and him thought alike. He would never agree to the term "Great minds think alike" with anyone who even looked like Claude.
His eyes had flickered up for just a moment to look at Claude, only to be met by his back. His eyes widened for only half a second as he glanced at the tattoo on the nape of the boy's neck, before looking down at his own, which was displayed for the world to see. He smirked, noticing that Claude kept his hair long, probably to cover up the fact that he had put a permanent mark on himself.
He stopped moving towards the door a moment before Chrissy latched onto him, much to his annoyance. Taking a moment to collect himself from this new annoyance, he turned to Claude as the words "Drunken mistake?" casually left his lips, an innocently curious expression on his face.
It really was like Chrissy wasnt there, even though the boy was digging his nails into Klint's arm with a death grip. Wasnt the kid just terrified of him about two seconds ago?? He looked down with an exasperated sigh, in time to see the words that Christian mouthed at him desperatly. Well...that was just a bit adorable, the way he tried to act casual about the whole thing even though it was obvious the kid was terrified.
Too bad Klint thought, if not just a tad bid spitefully. Maybe if he hadnt embarressed him infront of Claude ( of all people, really!) he would've helped. He knew he was being passive aggressive, something that he tried to make a point of not doing, but this was just too perfect. With an air of not understanding what the boy wanted, he took his hand and placed it on Claude's arm, an airy "I think this belongs to you" easily passing his lips.
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Miss Murder
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Post by Miss Murder on Sept 19, 2009 21:01:29 GMT -5
Christian felt he had died. Either that or he had sunken below low, and then was slapped in back in reality with one harsh stroke. Stingy, he thought, all the while glaring at Klint as he had hooked Christian into that predicament. He had finally begun to disappear, but hopes were soon lost. He had his clawing, constricting, fingers torn from the AID infested kid's arm and launched onto Claude's. Were his ears okay? He must have had a problem with hearing. Christian's disbelief was replaced with a moment's pity to the half deaf kid.
After a few passing moments, Christian finally seemed to comprehend what was happening. He was digging into a suffering boy's arm, one who had stood up for him. Christian inhaled deeply as he glanced upward to his upperclassman. "Sorry," he said attempting to smile. The testosterone rule? Ha, it didn't even exist anymore! Christian had completely annihilated it.
Christian quickly released Claude's arm like it was burning hot and recoiled backward. Quickly backing up to his space Christian, the world's biggest klutz, slipped on the water Klint had left behind. Christian's fall was as loopy as his situation. He floated in the air, flapping backwards, and slammed onto the titled floor with an eerie clap. Christian's head limply fell to the left. The impact leaving him unconscious. How lame was that?
((I was going to add a little bit about Flipper the fish, but I'm practicing self control. See I can restrain myself....LIES._.))
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Sarah
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Post by Sarah on Jul 2, 2010 16:13:12 GMT -5
The fact that the two enemies thought alike would have been ironic, even to Claude. Perhaps the saying of “great minds think alike” didn’t actual apply here, but it was still rather amusing. Well, they say that only opposites attract... and perhaps that was why Klint and Claude failed to see eye-to-eye. They were too alike to each other to even see their similarities. Maybe one day they would get over their failed first impressions enough to discover that.
Claude looked into the mirror to take the final swipes away from his jaw line. He then lowered his head so as to wash his face, and then to dry off with his dirty shirt. He didn’t think much of it, but it probably made the germaphob-kid wince.
And, much to Klint’s disbelief perhaps, Claude was in fact not a virgin a couple times over. Sure, he wasn’t the top catch amongst the females, but he’d been laid a couple of times. And none, he would like to add, by prostitutes. Some of those who he shared his bed with, however, he did not know very well at all.
Claude’s teeth clenched as he heard Klint behind him and to his left. “Drunken mistake?” It wasn’t fair how Klint could read him so easily; it made him infuriated. It was a good thing he had put the razor down, otherwise his fist might have not been a real threat compared to the blades. Claude gripped on to the edges of the sink to keep himself at bay. How much he would give to knock that guy out... “It’s none of your fucking business.”
He looked back at Klint through the mirror and sneered. He couldn’t stand to face the man himself, for then his hands would become unclenched in order to turn. Besides, he could imagine the shorter boy as Medusa; if he looked into those eyes, he would become stone before them. But oh, the much too innocent face Claude saw in the reflection was altogether invoking. Claude could imagine his fist hitting Klint’s jaw; could imagine the cracking sound it would have made on impact if he had enough force behind it. It was a beautiful, almost orgasmic idea. It would bring Claude so much joy to bring the other pain or humiliation.
As Chris slipped and fell after recoiling from the mere touch of Claude’s body, Claude looked around in amazement. He then stared down at his hands. Surely enough, his hands still gripped at the sink. In his angered state, Claude had to make sure that he hadn’t knocked the kid out himself. He glared at Klint through the bathroom mirror. “You see what the fuck you did, Craterface?”
Claude whirled away from the sink to where Chris lay unconscious. He didn’t look in the direction of Klint at all. Waving his hand over Christopher’s face, Claude sighed and began to pat the first year on the shoulders. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered. Self-consciously, even in a situation like this, Claude reached over his shoulder to touch the forbidden tattoo, as if to hide it. He knew Klint would be watching him like a hawk. And also the reaction was an unconscious habit by now; he was used to covering up or touching the tattoo whenever he was distressed.
Claude’s hand drifted down to wrap around the first year’s back as he tried to sit him up. He glared up at Klint. “You gonna help the kid or not?”
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snarky
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Post by snarky on Jul 5, 2010 5:36:00 GMT -5
Would the thought that he and Claude were alike ever cross Klint’s mind? Most likely not. But if it ever would, it would probably cause him to kick himself both mentally and physically for even thinking such a thought. He and Claude similar? It was laughable. Or would he just be in denial? Really, he had no reason to hate Claude like he did…they had just gotten started on the wrong foot. But, in stressfull situations having a punching bag was always a great stress relief, and Claude seemed more than willing to step up to the plate…Klint just wished he wasn’t so much more…bigger than him. Not just muscle-wise, but just height as well, though that could be said for most boys his age when compared. Klint couldn’t help but let a malicious smile spread across his lips as he saw Claude’s teeth clench at his simple words. Well, maybe they *were* a little bit alike…he was able to guess a lot about Claude, and the other boy had never told him a personal thing, save for a few exchanged in anger. He quirked an eyebrow as Claude’s reply <i> “It’s none of your fucking business”</i> echoed softly against the bathroom walls, accompanied by a rather unattractive, in Klint’s “unbiased” opinion, sneer. Hazel eyes watched Claude curiously through the mirror. Really, his boy was one of the most interesting, yet aggravating ones he had ever met. His innocent façade broke as he could almost see Claude imagine hitting the look right off of his face, instead turning it into a charming, if not somewhat out of place, smile, along with a small laugh, as if trying to provoke the older one. His lips had just parted to grace Claude with some sort of witty reply, before he turned his head some as Christian recoiled, starting forward to help just a moment to late when he saw the poor kid flying through the air, flapping like a fish out of water. He jumped some, startled as he hit the floor even though he saw it happen, staring stupidly at him as his head fell lifelessly to the side, Klint’s brow furrowing in concern. Maybe he had been a bit harsh on the kid..he was just playing around when he had attatched him to Claude… He barely caught Claude touching the spot hidden underneath his hair. Normally he would’ve called him out on it and caused as much humiliation as he could to the other boy, but right now he was too concerned for Christian. He kneeled down next to Claude, supporting Christian’s neck and head, his knee helping Claude bring him up. “What do we do?” he asked Claude, honestly complexly lost at this point. He knew how to deal with almost every other injury, but concussions? Usually he just had to walk his off and be messed up for the next week…he didn’t that was fair to the small boy; he probably wouldn’t be able to live through that, knowing him.
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Miss Murder
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I just break down so badly, in the worst way.
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Post by Miss Murder on Jul 8, 2010 0:17:47 GMT -5
He was running, running away from something. Even as his lungs burned, he fled down the hallway as fast as he could, the black and white titled floor blurring in his vision. The hall was endless, filled with wooden, classroom doors. But he couldn't stop, not for a second. Christian never was much of an athlete and what ever, who ever, was chasing him, was. He made a quick, last minute, decision and launched himself onto the next door. But it was locked. Dread, this was dreadful. He shook the door, as if it would suddenly unlock, but it didn't. His back became icy, and he knew he was caught. Squeezing his eyes closed, he waited. Surely enough, someone yanked him back.
The boy's face twisted painfully for a moment, and his eyes squeezed closed. And only seconds later he let out a high pitched yell, "AHHHHH!" his hands whipped forward to shield himself from who ever was attacking him. Flailing, to get it off him he muttered softly, "get off! Get off!" as his struggled worsened his hands squeezed shut, into fists, and he aimlessly waved them. Until, one flailing arm reached out and made contact. Here was the satisfaction that the something wasn't grabbing him anymore, but a settle throbbing in his knuckles - which brought him back. Slowly his face relaxed and he awoke to see the damage done. He was laying on the floor, the disgusting germ infested floor, with the his two seniors crouching about. One, looking like he just got punched.
Oh. Oh, this was so painfully real. His hand throbbed from incorrectly forming a fist, and the evidence appeared so obviously upon Klint's face was, he had indeed punched, rather hit, him. This was not good. He had made one cut himself, awkwardly offered things, cried about aids, passed out, and now he had hit someone. There was no escape. He wished he could just pass out, again. But he could...
"Ahhh," he cried dramatically, "oh, ah, you're fading.. Fading. Gram? Gram, is that you? I can finally join you, ah, I can't feel my arms... Oh, farewell painfully world," and he slowly closed his eyes on the world. His lips twitched slightly, as he tried not to smile at his brilliance. What could be better? He squinted out to see the their reactions, but didn't seem much than the ceiling at the moment. He wished he could pat himself on the back, good job Christian, good job. He should win a prize, Best Fake Passing out, goes to.... drum roll, please, Christian Andrews!
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Sarah
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Post by Sarah on Jul 8, 2010 14:30:53 GMT -5
Wasn't it funny that a single failed first impression overall ruined the chance of a good, healthy relationship between two guys? Actually, if we were being specific, it wasn't exactly the first impression that had screwed them over. It had been the first five minutes, starting upon when Claude had flicked out Klint's stubb of a cigarette. From then on, it had been war.
And how they knew how to get under each other's skin, Claude didn't have the faintest clue. Claude could read the other like an open book, and likewise with the second year. But how their failed chemistry worked out in this way wasn't too hard to guess at. They both were alike and both had insecurities and blemishes. And, well, anyone could figure out how to take it from there.
And that little evil smile? Really? But, it did it's job; Claude forced himself to grip on to the porcilien sink before he was caused to turn his attention to the first year. He could feel blood circulate towards his cheeks, but not out of embarrassment. Sometimes, on a rare ocassion or two, Claude would become flushed as his anger flared. It didn't take too much to make him upset, either. Go ahead and insert here Claude's need for some anger management; no matter who it would be coming from, it would be out of truth.
However, if Klint had mentioned Claude's sexuality, then would the ebony-haired boy be hot and bothered in the facial region with a bright pink color to accent it all. Even a mere mention of the rumors that had been spread far and wide down the halls, about Claude and a particularly handsy first year, would have left Claude in a state of no return.
Oh, but if Claude would have realized how much Klint compared himself to the other! The elder of the three would have laughed outright, as if Christopher had gone on another AIDs rant. Klint clearly cared about what people thought of him and his size, otherwise it wouldn't have been a problem. Oh, and Claude wouldn't fail to mention that the fact that he was bigger in porportion both in height and muscle density, that he was certainly also bigger in a way below the belt. You either have it or not, Acker, he would have said. And well, I certainly have it.
But this time, as Claude crouched near to the first year with an arm over his shoulders (Almost as if, Claude noticed miserably, as if he was embracing the other,) so as to sit him upright and eventually drag the dead weight to the headmaster's office. Or, at least to the nurse's. It seemed obvious to Claude, at least. And yet, Klint's words faded into the cement walls around them. "What do we do?"
Much to the third year's own surprise, he didn't snap back with an idiotic comment. "We get him to the nurse. Or to a teacher or something." No, they were supposed to keep the unconcious boy laying there so that if something really did happen to Chris, the two of them could be charged with murder, should something happen to the boy.
That wouldn't be cool. Claude was just starting to like the kid and all of his germaphobic rants. He was a hell of a show to watch.
Oh, and that was when the show started back up again. With a mild thwack! the boy's hand lashed out. Claude flinched and backed away somewhat. Not that it mattered. The hand reached out and crunched against Klint's jaw. That was when the laughter started again.
This kid was a comic genius, even when the damn kid was passed out! Chris went up a few points in the cool-dar with Claude for that one. Maybe Claude hadn't been the only one who was dying to punch Klint; to hear the crack it produced, like a damn symphony!
And then the kid went for extra points! He dramatically acted out the death-scenes found in every hospital drama. Claude's laughter went up a full megahertz; so much that he was afraid that a teacher was going to walk in to figure out what the commotion was. "Oh, oh god damn," he howled, even as he tried to quiet himself. "You're my new best friend, kid." Claude grinned over to Klint cheekily. "Want me to kiss it better, Acker?"
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snarky
Junior Member
Posts: 76
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Post by snarky on Jul 11, 2010 16:09:16 GMT -5
Really, it was more than just a failed first impression. It was a catastrophic and chaotic first impression, that created a fueled hate-hate relationship that Klint couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Maybe if he had been in a better mood, or in his right state of mind that day, Claude and him could’ve been the best of friends.. But no. That asshole had to choose the day he was already pissed beyong belief to flick his cigarette; that’s not something you do. Cigarettes were hard to come by in this school. Sure, he had insecurities, but to Klint, they weren’t as obvious as Claude’s were. Almost immediately Klint had picked up that Claude was sensitive to talks about sex, and sexuality. Klint, on the other hand, was completely fine with that, but had much less obvious problems with his size. He tried not to let on, especially around Claude, though he was unsure wither or not the other boy had figured it out already. They would, after all, take any dirt they could find on each other and make the other eat it… Really, Klint should of taken that perfect opportunity, when color flushed to Claude’s face, to say something about his sexuality. It was obvious that Claude was bigger than him, and could overpower him physically in any situation, but the fact that he could set him off gave him his own victory of his own. He could beat Claude in a battle of wits any day. Had Klint been able to hear Claude’s opinion of size, especially below the belt, he wouldn’t be able to help but laugh. Really Claude? You didn’t know anything about human anatomy. Muscle and height had nothing to do with that! Sometimes the scrawniest guys were the biggest, and Klint had been blessed with good genes. Klint bit back a groan at his own stupidity. Really..why did he ask that? It was obvious. They were in a school; when someone gets injured, you run them to the nurse or the nearest teacher and let them take care of it. He mentally kicked himself, hoping that Claude would simply forget about this in his urgency to get Chrissy to the nurse. He had started to help Claude lift the boy between them, but then the boy started squirming. His squirming fit turned into a full on seizure, and in his concern he had no time to react as a small fist suddenly flung towards his face, right in the kisser. His head wasn’t knocked back, Christian probably didn’t have that kind of strength, especially laying down. He blinked, surprised to find his eyes tearing up as a biting pain coursed through his mouth. He almost pulled back his fist to punch the poor boy, but stopped as he started some else up again. Really? Would this episode never end??? He growled in irritation at the kids poor acting. Come on. Even he could do better than that. Really? He was talking to his gram? He rolled his eyes, glaring down at the scared first year, scowling when he saw the kid had the audacity to peek. Seriously? This kid…was he retarded? Claude’s laughter was what set him off. It was bad enough getting sucker punched by a first year, and Christian at that, but the fact that it gave Claude a reason to laugh at him pissed him off. He clenched his fists, debating what to do for a moment, wanting to shut up Claude’s irritating hyena laugh. It was giving him a headache, for christs sake. He suddenly hesitated, hiding a coy grin as he heard Claude’s words ”Want me to kiss it better, Acker?” “What, you want to kiss me again?” he asked, a victorious smirk on his face.”I thought you didn’t swing that way” Really, he couldn’t be blamed for that one. Claude had set himself up for it, and walked into it, all in one sentence. He offered Claude a cocked eyebrow, as if to say “Really now?”, acting surprised, as if Claude really was interested in him. He was somewhat surprised actually, he expected Claude to be more careful than that. He looked down, nudging Christian roughly with his foot as he waited for Claude’s response, wanting to get some sort of reaction out of the first year, hoping that Christian would get the hint that it was obvious he was awake; but knowing Christian, that probably wasn’t going to happen.
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Miss Murder
Administrator
90% delirious, 3% neurotic, 7% difficult.[M:0]
I just break down so badly, in the worst way.
Posts: 241
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Post by Miss Murder on Jul 17, 2010 23:00:57 GMT -5
Christian couldn't help but grimance at the mention of that. Those gross, disturbing words he heard since childhood. Nothing, nothing was worse than kissing to make it better. He remember the time he scrapped his knee against the pavement, and his mother leaning toward him to kiss it to make it better. But instead he asked for disinfectant and a band-aid. He was six at the time, and in school we was being to realize the danger of germs. That was when his mom began to realize he wasn't like every other kid, and kissing his injuries would not make it better. He can still remember the disappointment in her face as she leaned back on her heels and smiled sadly, then agreed to take him to the doctors.
Kissing it didn't make it better, even then he knew it, so why was a teenager boy offering it to another? It wasn't right. He felt the urge to jump up and yell at them, but all he could do was hastily bite the inside of his cheek. What to do? Either save someone, who he had injured in the first place, from a possible transfer of germs and get beat up.. Or, he could stay quiet and hopefully live until tomorrow. What did he decide? He didn't have to. Because it was only moments later that he felt a quick, swift hit to his stomach. The play was dropped because Christian instantly shriveled up into a ball to protect his sensitive stomach from further beating. His hand instinctively reached for his first aid kit for comfort, but he realized that it was up on the sink still.
The first year laid there for a few moments, just letting the pain ebb away. The kick wasn't that hard, but it was enough to break him. He wouldn't stand for this, not after he had acted so well. Sitting up, still clutching where he was kicked, Chris glared defensively at Klint. He was in for a scowling, even if Christian had accidentally punched him. The testosterone rule was broken, so why not bother pretending it was still in existence?
"What do you think you were doing?" he asked as calmly as possible as he got to his feet, "Kicking an injured person? Good thing for you I wasn't seriously injured! Or you would be in for it, believe me!" He pointing and accusing finger at the older boy and let out a long sigh. "You really have no matters, do you? I'm sorry, really, I am, but you shouldn't go around kicking injured people! It's bad! Especially for your image! Do you want to be known as the guy that kicks injured people? You might as well steal candy from a baby! You might steal a grandpa's cane and beat him with it! Mind your matters and wait to beat me up when I wake up!"
With all that said, the first year stood their shaking with adrenaline from his impulsive behavior. Slowly, realization came to his eyes and his hand quickly returned to his side, clutching the ends of his tee shirt. His face paling slightly, "Er, I just woke up when I felt the pain. Ahh, I should really get to the nurse, so she can check my well being," he moved quickly to the sink to collect his things, and then he was to bolt, as quickly as he could manage, from the room.
Christian, how could you be so stupid? He thought innerly to himself. You can't just jump up, yell, and then tell them to wait until you are awake to beat you up. That is just a huge contradiction on your part. Perhaps you could convince them this was your soul speaking? Some spiritual nonsense? No, it was better to just run. And maybe they'd forget about this whole mess. Aahahahaaa... not likely.
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Sarah
Administrator
[M:0]
Posts: 401
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Post by Sarah on Jul 18, 2010 16:57:22 GMT -5
This was so much more amusing than Claude had imagined this to be. In full reality, a trip to the bathroom was a boring event around Eddingborough. It was a shave-and-get-out kind of run for Claude but that had been before he met a Christopher Andrews. Oh yeah, and before a certain Klint Acker walked in to grace them with his appearance.
Really, if it hadn't been for Claude's and Klint's foul moods that day, maybe it wouldn't have ended the way it did. Claude supposed that he didn't really hate Klint, it was just the fact that the second year had annoyed him upon his very arrival that day in the courtyard. Claude had been hungover and-- no, really, mentioning that Claude had been hungover was explanation enough.
But other than the fact that the other had managed to kick him in the balls and then later kiss him, Claude didn't have a reason to hate Klint. The fact that he had kicked him in the groin however did seem to be enough of a reason...
Really, it was just fun to piss off the other. Neither of them had much of a patience when it came to humiliation... so it was a sort of masochistic relationship. Masochistic because that Claude knew every time he embarrassed Klint that Klint had the fire power to do the same. But that knowledge never slowed Claude down.
And while talking about the two brunettes, it might be clarified that Claude didn't figure on being bigger than the other simply because of his overall physical size... the idea came to him as easily as 1+1=2. He didn't doubt the possibility of being bigger than Klint. And, to be honest, Claude didn't really care to find out for sure. That limo-measuring contest could and would be postponed.
At the time of Klint's naive question, Claude hadn't questioned his stupidity. Now that there was an emergency on his hands, he straightened up. He could put away petty arguments if someone was in trouble; even if it was the first year.
Obviously, Claude's comment hadn't been taken in the sarcastic sense it had been originated in; both Klint and Chris seemed to get the wrong impression. Klint's comment however was called for. Claude immediately scowled at his poor word choice and looked away with eyes closed. Time to start the countdown from ten: 10, 9, 8.
"You're the one who kissed me faggot," Claude's words were soft as he tried to contain hiimself. He really didn't want a fight right now, even if the odds were in his favor. Would this little thing between Klint and him ever end? It was obvious that they wouldn't see eye to eye easily, so what was the point in messing around with the kid? Well, it was fun to annoy the little shit... But was it worth it? Claude was starting to wonder. 7, 6, 5. Claude let out a small breath and turned to face Klint and Chris once again.
"Whatever, Acker. I'll let you fantasize about what you want to fantasize." Claude started to stand up as he looked down at the first year, and smiled slightly. So, now Chris was turned against Klint too. Cool. So much for the little would-be alliance before hand. At least the kid had the balls to stand up for himself, even if the situation wasn't as bad as it could have been.
But, Chris did go to make himself look bad when he back tracked to cover his ass. Claude sighed lightly and shook his head. "Need help to the nurse, kid?" Claude didn't really care; either way he was getting out of this stupid bathroom. Maybe the air would be a little bit clearer once he was away from Klint.
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