andrew lacetti
vampire
wields fire super-speed immune to daylight
Posts: 97
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Post by andrew lacetti on Aug 6, 2008 12:47:30 GMT -5
Vince was dead. One of Andrew's closest friends, and he was dead. Just like that. Gone. And he'd never see him again. He'd never get to go to the Secret and stay out all night getting drunk or high with him again. He'd never get to see his face grinning at him again, or be able to make him laugh. Nothing. Because Vincent was dead now. And Andrew had no idea how to deal with this. No one he knew had ever died before. Everyone in his life was still living. Ever since he'd found out, he'd kept himself locked up in his dorm. Screw life. If everyone was just going to die, what was the point? He'd rather be curled up under his covers in a dark dorm room then walking through the halls and seeing everyone's smiling faces. What did they have to smile about? Vince was dead, other people were dead, and people were missing. Hell, they were probably all dead too, even if they hadn't found the bodies. And if they weren't, they would be soon.
He just didn't feel like doing anything. It was as simple as that. No one could make him get out and go to classes. He was just going to spend forever here. This was one of the times he really hated being a vampire. Living forever. He didn't want to live forever. He wanted to be able to die like everyone else, to be normal. But that would never happen. There was the good point of having super-strength though. No matter how much someone tried, unless they were another vampire of course, they couldn't move him from this position. Andrew was just going to stay like this—dressed in a white T-shirt and black shorts, curled up and completely hidden under the navy blue covers on his bed. His raven-black-dyed hair was a tangled mess on his head, obscuring the vision of his normally bright green eyes. but now they were dull and nearly lifeless; his face also seemed paler than usual.
And where was everyone? He felt like he was the only person here mourning the death of someone. Andrew nuzzled his face into his pillow. His heard the sound of his phone ring on the table beside his bed again. But he didn't bother to pick it up. For once, Andrew actually didn't feel like talking to anyone. It was probably just T.K. checking to see how he was. Well, yeah, in that case he knew he should pick up. But he really just didn't want to.
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fletcher cross
werewolf [ admin ]
wields ice weather control[M0n:500]
Posts: 285
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Post by fletcher cross on Aug 6, 2008 13:23:40 GMT -5
It had been raining all day. How appropriate. The general mood around Winterthorne was “blah, I’m upset, leave me alone”. It wasn’t what teenagers would classify “emo” as much as it was a cloud of solemn regret that no one had done anything about the murders. And now god-knows-how-many-people had died, plus the four that had gone missing. Who was doing this and why?! What had they done? Originally the murders had been thought to be pointed at humans, particularly juniors, but they had expanded to other races and years. They seemed almost...random. Unplanned. Like the murderer didn’t know what he or she wanted. Or maybe there was a clue they were all missing...
He trudged through the hallways, dripping rainwater all over the carpets. The usually-packed south corridor was completely empty. No one was outside. Everyone was either walking gloomily to class, sitting bored in class, or holed up in the coffee shop/dorm/apartment. The professors had been talking about putting a strict curfew for students, which didn’t really seem to matter at this point—everyone was turning in by eleven. No one cared. Actually, no one talked enough to express what they were thinking. Everyone had been reduced to badly dressed robots who lived off of coffee and muffins from down the street.
Fletcher wandered in his room, barely registering who was hanging out in the living room as he passed it. After a hot shower (something that everyone seemed to need) and warmer clothes, he dragged himself over to his bed, throwing a white hoodie over the black Relient K shirt he was wearing. As he fell back onto the sheets, his choppy hair sprawled over his face, he picked up his cell phone and dialed Andrew’s number. He hadn’t seen the vampire in days, and he knew why: Vincent. That was most of the reason he’d been avoiding talking to the other, too. What was he supposed to say? He felt the deepest regret and sadness for Vincent, but he couldn’t let Andrew know what had pushed them away. He’d just seem like a bigger jerk.
And...he didn’t pick up. He was tired of being alone, walking to classes by himself, waving to no one in the hallways. Groaning, he forced himself off of his bed and across the hall to Andrew’s room. Pressing his ear against the door, he tried to hear anything. As he thought, it was silent. Trying the handle, he found it locked. Not surprised. Fletcher tapped on the door, calling out, “Andrew? Open up.” In case he tried to play the “I’m-not-here” card, he added, “I know you’re in there.”
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andrew lacetti
vampire
wields fire super-speed immune to daylight
Posts: 97
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Post by andrew lacetti on Aug 6, 2008 13:46:31 GMT -5
"Andrew? Open up."
Fletcher?! Why was he here? Andrew opened one of his eyes, not that it did anything. It was pitch black under his covers, his light wasn't on. He opened his mouth to tell the werewolf to go away and then heard Fletcher say that he knew he was in here. Well, he couldn't get away with that now, could he? Andrew groaned quietly. Half of him wanted to just make Fletcher go away and leave him alone; the other half needed the other boy. But he went with that negative half, of course. "Just go away..." he called out, not bothering to move. Why did people have to care so much? They couldn't just leave him to lay in bed all day, could they? Not T.K. and not Fletcher.
He figured that Fletcher wouldn't go away for anything though. Andrew sighed. Open the door, or not open it and leave Fletcher standing out there pounding at the door. Well, with the latter option he'd probably get a headache and/or his door broken down by the end of the day. The former was really a more appealing option. Brushing slim fingers through his hair, he moved them out of the way of his eyes. As the covers slid off his body and he stood up, his bare feet moved across the floor towards his door. Why not? Andrew paused in front of the mirror to look at himself. Grabbing up his brush, he tried to fix up the shaggy locks of hair on his head. But he quickly gave that up. He just didn't care. He didn't think Fletcher would really care either. It would be easier to just find out what the werewolf wanted and then get back to moping under tha covers.
"Okay, I opened up, happy?" he asked a bit harshly, looking into the other boy's face. He knew he looked like shit, he really did. He sighed again. "What do you want?" Andrew's voice was kinder this time, the last thing he needed was to argue with Fletcher right now. He sighed and chewed on his lip as he waited to see what the other boy wanted.
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fletcher cross
werewolf [ admin ]
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Posts: 285
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Post by fletcher cross on Aug 6, 2008 15:14:18 GMT -5
His hopeful face fell at the vampire’s words. Annoyed, he held himself back from pounding on the door again and called out a simple, “No.” He was going to stay, leaning against his door until he came and opened it. Fletcher had to see Andrew before he wasted away into the auto-pilot form that everyone else had succumbed to. He wasn’t going to let the freshman mope around for the rest of his never-ending life, either. Still pressed against the door, he listened for any signs of movement. Ah, a groan. At least he was responding. He heard a shuffling noise, presumably covers being moved; his lips curled into a smile. Good. Now, at least, he didn’t have to break the door down to get in.
He stood, still waiting for the vampire to come to the door, wondering what he was doing. If he was considering whether or not to actually let Fletcher in, he could make it worse on Andrew’s part by continuing to bang loudly on his door and shout random threats until he actually swung it open. He knew, though, that neither of them were in the mood to fight, and he wasn’t going to make it any harder on the boy. He knew why Andrew had locked himself away in his room, and it was the same reason Fletcher locked himself up in his room. Lifting himself off the door, he sighed. About to turn around and leave, probably bent on finding Devon after that, he paused as he found the freshman right in his face.
‘Okay, I opened up, happy?’
Fletcher flinched a little, biting his lip as the boy spoke. He knew he hadn’t meant it. It was nerves, or so he assumed—stress over the death of his best friend. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose Devon—he’d always been a closer friend than Vincent, though only barely—and shuddered at the thought. Calming at his sigh, he cleared his thoughts. “I want to see you.” As if that wasn’t obvious enough, standing right before him. He blushed a little, looking down at his shoes before asking, “Can I come in?” It was followed by the silent threat that he’d be at the boy’s door for the rest of the afternoon and night (judging by the sky, it was about five) if he wouldn’t be let inside. Well, his eyes sent it out, at least.
[ ahhahah snuck back on before i had to go ;] ]
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andrew lacetti
vampire
wields fire super-speed immune to daylight
Posts: 97
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Post by andrew lacetti on Aug 6, 2008 19:24:52 GMT -5
A small smile lit Andrew's face at the words of the other. Fletcher just want to see him, eh? That pretty much made the vampire's day. Though, granted, there wasn't much else he'd done to compete with those simple words today. Actually, if he thought about it, those words would make his day any day. "Oh really?" Andrew asked, that good old mischievous smirk started to play on his features. It was good sign, really. It meant that he was starting to be himself, at least a little bit. Which was better than nothing, right? And his eyes were a little brighter too, seeing the light blush that came to the werewolf's cheeks. He loved it when Fletcher blushed; somehow it was just about the cutest thing he'd ever seen.
"Can I come in?"
Well, what else was he going to let the other do? He knew that if he didn't, Fletch would just wait outside his door all night until he actually did let the werewolf in. Andrew's shoulders relaxed more, sort of in defeat. "Of course, come on..." he said, gesturing inside with a small motion of the hand that wasn't resting on the doorknob. His green eyes followed Fletcher as the other walked inside, then he closed the door again and walked back in to his room. Climbing on his bed, he crossed his legs and looked at the other boy, patting the empty space next to him "Sit with me? Please," Andrew asked, a hopeful look on his face; in his eyes.
He just really, really wanted to have the other wrap his arms around his body and hold him. He wanted to cry and to let it all out. And he knew with Fletcher he could do that—he could show what he was really feeling. Andrew looked to Fletcher, green eyes growing watery. "J-just hold me, please," he said to the other; his voice sounded choked and upset.
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fletcher cross
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Posts: 285
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Post by fletcher cross on Aug 7, 2008 9:02:42 GMT -5
His blush deepened a little at the other’s words. Okay, he couldn’t have been that depressed if he could still act his normal way (which was...lusty? or just teenager?). “Yes, really.” He held himself back from saying anything else out of fear that Andrew would go back into his “I’m trying to feel sorry for myself, please don’t talk to me, knock on the door, or lean against it in any manner” ways. His eyes flicked back to meet Andrew’s for a moment, and he thought he saw a hint of something else—excitement? energy? happiness?—before the other moved out of the way so he could enter the dorm. He waited a few moments, watching the vampire carefully before brushing past him. Hearing the door close behind him, he turned around and watched the vampire plop down on his bed.
‘Sit with me? Please.’
Tilting his head a bit to watch the other, he looked at the folded up body in thought. Sure, I’ll sit with you. He had opened his mouth to respond when the vampire interjected. The words barely escaped the other’s mouth without sobbing hysterically, and his eyes were already to burst out with the waterworks. Much like Jay, he hadn’t actually seen Andrew sad. Though, unlike Jay, he knew it wasn’t a fictional bed-time story (the title would be...what? The Sad Jay?), and Andrew needed to be comforted. Now. Losing someone you knew was bad, but a best friend was like chopping off part of your heart.
Fletcher moved over to the bed silently, climbing on the fluffy comforter and sitting behind the boy. Without saying a word, he moved his legs out in a V-shape and dragged the boy against him, legs curling around the rest of the vampire. As he moved his arms around the boy’s chest and laid his head on his shoulder, he inhaled the other’s scent. Yes, it did still taste a bit like rotting flesh, but it was getting to the point where he could ignore it completely. He still felt bad for Andrew. Smelling like dog all the time must have been annoying. He kissed the side of the boy’s neck, muttering, “Alright. What’s...” Wrong? He knew perfectly well. Fletcher simply felt silent again.
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andrew lacetti
vampire
wields fire super-speed immune to daylight
Posts: 97
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Post by andrew lacetti on Aug 7, 2008 9:39:04 GMT -5
The teary green eyes watched Fletcher as the werewolf walked across the room and climbed onto the bed and crwaled behind him. He felt the other's legs fold around him, then the arms curling around his body as he let himself be pulled against the other boy. Andrew curled his slim frame up further, hiding his face in Fletcher's white hoodie. The tears started to spill down his cheeks, making them damp and staining the other's hoodie. Andrew didn't say anything, he remained silent, crying, trying to concentrate only on the fact that Fletcher was actually holding him. But then he remembered Vincent again. He felt almost as though he'd gone bi-polar. Being with Fletcher made him happy, but then he'd burst into tears when Vince came to mind again. Andrew just continued to hide his face in the werewolf's chest, sobs racking through his body. Why Vince? Why him? One of his best friends...the only person closer than Vince was T.K. Andrew hadn't cared about the deaths before; hadn't thought they'd touch him. But now he'd never get to see Vince again. When was the last time they'd gone out? What was the last thing they'd said to each other? Andrew couldn't remember. But it felt like whenever it had been, it would never suffice to be the last time. He'd never be able to feel like he'd hung out with Vince enough times before he was killed. He couldn't imagine why anyone would have killed Vince; he couldn't imagine that the werewolf had done anything to make enemies with someone so bad that they'd want to murder him. Or was this killer just going around randomly and killing anyone they ran into? Did that mean the T.K. would be next? Or Fletcher? The tears spilled harder from his eyes—he couldn't lose more people he cared about.
"Alright. What’s..."
He heard Fletcher speak, felt the soft kiss on his neck, and moved his head slightly to look up into the werewolf's face. He knew what the other had been going to ask. "What's wrong?" The answer was obvious though; Fletcher knew Vince had been one of his best friends. Andrew didn't bother to answer the question. He looked back down from the other's face, burying his own in Fletcher's hoodie again. "W-why him?" he asked, as if the other boy would know. But Andrew felt as though he needed to ask someone, and Fletcher was here. Even though, he knew the werewolf had hated Vincent, for some reason. Andrew had no idea what or why, but he'd hated Vince.
"I miss him," Andrew said, a sob escaping his mouth after he spoke. He wanted his friend back, but that was impossible.
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fletcher cross
werewolf [ admin ]
wields ice weather control[M0n:500]
Posts: 285
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Post by fletcher cross on Aug 7, 2008 10:38:04 GMT -5
He watched as the flow of tears began to steadily drip from Andrew’s face. It was sort of an odd feeling to hold the other, watching as his hoodie slowly grew damp, the boy curled up against him. He had always thought it would be the other way around; Fletcher was used to the idea that he would be the one who needed comforting from the younger boy. As he sat there, watching the vampire, he wondered what had gone so wrong at Winterthorne that murders were occurring. Not only that, but six or seven every few weeks. The death rate was climbing at a rate so high that it was impossible to not think you were next in line. What happened if Andrew died? ...He could die, couldn’t he?
That was the other thing that had been worrying him recently. It hadn’t struck him until a sophomore had mentioned it when he passed by in the hallways: Andrew wasn’t going to die (unless, of course, some crazy human bent on vampire-hunting happened to stumble upon Winterthorne). He wasn’t going to get older, either. Fletcher would. Andrew was going to remain a beautiful, young teenager forever. Fletcher would get old and die. Andrew would live to see so many great and mind-blowing inventions, ideas, and people. Fletcher would waste away. The thought had been nipping at him ever since he had heard it. Now, obviously, was not the time to bring it up. It would only upset Andrew more, which was not what he wanted.
The tears came down harder, soaking through his hoodie and hitting spots on his jeans. Suddenly, he came in contact with the bright green eyes that he had always loved to watch. They burned holes in his own, and he was a little thankful when the boy went back to burying his head against his chest. One hand lifted to brush against Andrew’s cheek, the other still wrapped around the boy, hugging him closer. “I—I don’t know,” he managed to choke out, leaning his chin on the other’s head again. He didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry that your best friend, my ex-best friend and the only guy who had an actual chance with you, is dead. Even though I’m really, really hurt, I’m not going to tell you.’
“I know.” He wasn’t all too great at the comforting thing.
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andrew lacetti
vampire
wields fire super-speed immune to daylight
Posts: 97
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Post by andrew lacetti on Aug 7, 2008 12:01:55 GMT -5
"I—I don’t know."
That was really helpful. But Andrew couldn't blame him. Fletcher probably wasn't very good at the comforting thing. In all honesty, Andrew had never imagined he'd be the one sobbing in the werewolf's arms. He always tried to be the strong person no matter who he was around. He tried to be the happy-go-lucky guy that didn't have a care in the world other than going to the hottest clubs with his friends and having fun. And now he was breaking down and crying in Fletcher's arms because his best friend had been killed. The tears continued to flow heavily down his cheeks, soaking them and Fletcher's clothes. He tried to take a deep breath but instead a sort of strangled sob sound escaped. His eyelids closed tightly over the teary greens and he chewed on his bottom lip.
"I...I'm sorry," Andrew apologized, sound muffled in the fabric of Fletcher's hoodie. "I s-shouldn't be doing this to y-you." Andrew nuzzled his face into Fletcher's chest more. The tears were still pouring down his face. But he didn't want to lay everything on the older boy. Or make him uncomfortable. Fletcher shouldn't have to sit here holding him as he cried about Vincent. He shouldn't have to worry about Andrew. The Junior should be able to be out doing whatever it was he did for fun—hanging out with Devon or Jay or whatever. "I just...I just can't believe it." The tears started to come down harder again. He didn't think he'd ever been so emotional in his whole life.
He needed to calm himself. That was all. At least, that's what he was telling himself. The problem was he didn't know how to do that right now. Truthfully, he just wanted to curl up and mope under the covers by himself again. Fletcher's arms were so comforting though...it was a shame that he was wrapped in them only because Vincent had died. Andrew finally put his own arms around Fletcher, slinking them through the werewolf's arms and pulling his body closer to the other boy's. He breathed in the scent of him. It still smelled like dog—it was kinda disgusting—but he was getting used to it, thankfully. It was almost bearable. "Fletcher?" he asked, looking up to lock eyes with the werewolf again. "Why did you hate Vince so much?" He wasn't sure why he was asking, but maybe now was the time to find out.
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fletcher cross
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Post by fletcher cross on Aug 10, 2008 9:57:15 GMT -5
In all honesty, he didn’t know what he was doing. Anyone else in the castle was probably more skilled at comforting people than he was. All he could think of doing was simply cradling the other as he cried. It didn’t matter how long it took, or how soaked he would be by the end, or how many boxes of Kleenex they went through. As long as Andrew was alright by the end, and really alright—not just back to the usual lusty teasing and smirks, but the vampire that he had seen through. The virtually perfect boy with gorgeous green eyes that lit up at the sight of people like TK and Bliss. The boy who had bought him the sexiest bird you would ever find. The boy who laughed when he got ice cream on his nose and panicked when Fletcher managed to trip over something. He wanted that Andrew back.
But that was being selfish. Everyone needed to cry.
His eyes widened a bit. Sorry? Why should he be sorry? He sat there, mumbling something along the lines of “it’s fine”, and curled his hand around the vampire’s face again, pulling him closer. He leaned in again, bending his upper half in a sort of shielding position over Andrew as he felt the tears increase again. Fletcher didn’t blame him. He didn’t think anyone could believe it. Six deaths in a matter of one week, plus the five others that had already been killed, and not one of them solved. Only this time it had been personal. Still, he knew what it was like to lose a best friend. He absent-mindedly traced his fingers through the other’s dark hair and back around his flushed, wet cheeks as they sat there.
Lifting his head as the other moved, he felt Andrew’s arms encompass him, he found himself pressed against Andrew. Fletcher closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the warmth that radiated off of the other’s body. He wasn’t sure if the vampire had been doing that intentionally—using his fire power—or not, but it was a comforting feeling. When he opened them back up, he found himself staring down at the hurt, emerald eyes again. Only this time he couldn’t look away. At the sound of his name, he nodded, waiting for what was to come. Fletcher, want to fall asleep here? Fletcher, want to be mine forever? Fletcher, please don’t die a hideous death? Fletcher, I...love you? Not even close. More like “Fletcher, please don’t gouge your eyes out while you attempt to tell me why you hate my dead best friend.”
“It was...complicated,” he choked out, after several moments of thought. How was he supposed to tell Andrew that he had severed ties with his best friend over him?! That it had been a competition for his attention? There was no right way to tell him that. Anyway he would try it would come out as Vincent, the poor victim, and Fletcher, the asshole. “I—I didn’t always...” he trailed off again, for lack of a way to put it. “We used to be friends.” The best of friends. Brothers, like Devon.
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andrew lacetti
vampire
wields fire super-speed immune to daylight
Posts: 97
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Post by andrew lacetti on Aug 11, 2008 8:58:15 GMT -5
Moving one arm from around Fletcher, he unburied his face from the other and wiped away some of the tears that were dampening his cheeks. Then his arm feel back around the werewolf, his face nuzzling into the other's chest again. His body shook slightly as he tried to calm down. Andrew closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. The quiet was relaxing. Being wrapped up in Fletcher's arms, the other leaning protectively over him now, was comforting. This, he could do—he could definitely stay like this forever. He wished forever for him was the same forever it was for Fletcher, though. But it wasn't—he'd realized that and it had been nagging him. Fletcher would die one day, Andrew wouldn't. Fletcher wouldn't be around forever. It was enough to start the tears flowing whenever he thought about it. He shook his head a bit to shake the thoughts away, this wasn't a time to think about that. He was supposed to be upset about Vincent—that, or happy Fletcher was finally his. Honestly, he'd rather go for the latter, but that didn't seem fair to Vincent...
“We used to be friends.”
What?! Friends?! But...he thought that...and... Okay, now he was just confused. Greens opened wide in surprise. "Y-you...friends?" he stammered out, having no idea what to say. How...when? It had always seemed like they'd hated each other. But friends? "You were...friends with him..?" Andrew wiped at his eyes again. "But...then, why..?" He was sure that the werewolf would understand what he meant by that question. Yeah, he was being a bit nosey—he most likely didn't have the right to know why they had stopped being friends. It was Fletcher's business, and it had been Vincent's.
His arms were still wrapped around Fletcher, head still laying on his chest, and his green eyes were staring widely up at the werewolf junior. A small yawn left his mouth as he looked and waited for the answer to his questions. He'd tired his body from all that crying, and it hadn't had much energy to begin with, after moping in his bed all this time. "Fletcher...stay with me, please," Andrew said quietly, looking into the other's eyes.
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fletcher cross
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Post by fletcher cross on Aug 12, 2008 18:57:44 GMT -5
Maybe he should have started with a different phrase? Like, perhaps, something that wasn’t as startling? He watched as the boy’s eyes flew open in shock, the emerald staring him down again. And then the questions began. They were friends? Yes. So why do you hate him? Long story. You’re friends? Yes, damnit, and for any future reference, Fletcher and Vincent were actually friends. “Best friends,” he echoed Vincent’s words softly, hoping that somehow the boy could hear him. Right. He was dead now; it didn’t matter what Fletcher said or tried to say. He watched silently as the boy wiped at his tears again. He reached his hand away from the dark locks long enough to help him brush a few more tears away, his fingertips lingering for a moment against the smooth skin before they dropped to hold him again.
Ah, how to begin this? The fact that they were friends was out. Good-ish start. “He...it was...complicated,” he began again, slowly, as he tried to figure out how to word it correctly. Off to a great start there, Fletch. Letting out a small sigh, he started once more. “After—er, certain...circumstances—we just...stopped hanging out.” He wasn’t really good at avoiding these things. Sooner or later, Andrew would get anything and everything he wanted out of Fletcher. Which, he had decided, was not a good thing. So he needed to find a way to weasel out of telling him anything before the conversation got out of hand. Fletcher...stay with me, please. His heart almost cracked in two when the boy muttered those words. “Of course I will,” he choked out, pulling his gaze away from the other’s eyes. It was too hard to look at them.
Still clutching the vampire to his chest, Fletcher slowly leaned back so that the younger boy pressed him into the bed. Laying flat on his back, he stretched his legs out, tangling them with Andrew’s as he readjusted himself so that he was, once again, a human knot. He sighed again, this time louder, and his chest heaved with the motion, lifting Andrew up for a few seconds before they both crashed back into the sheets. He hated being sad, and he definitely hated seeing Andrew sad. It wasn’t a sight he often saw, and honestly, he hoped to god he would never see it again. “I love you,” he breathed, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back into the fluffy comforter again. He had to admit, this was unfairly comfortable.
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andrew lacetti
vampire
wields fire super-speed immune to daylight
Posts: 97
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Post by andrew lacetti on Aug 12, 2008 20:00:57 GMT -5
Best friends? They'd been close, too. Close like him and Vince had been—hell, maybe they'd been closer. He could tell the other was struggling to find the right words to explain this to him. It can't be that bad...can it? But maybe it was. Andrew was completely clueless about this, how would he know? Exactly. There was no way he could know. His eyes shut gently as he felt the other's cool fingers brush along his face, helping to wipe away his tears, a small smirk broke through on his lips. When the fingers left, his eyes opened up again, and Andrew found himself looking back into Fletcher's face again. He waited patiently to hear what the werewolf had to say about this whole...thing.
"He...it was...complicated."
Yeah, well, he'd figured that out the first time Fletcher had said it. He kept himself from spitting out some smart remark as he continued to look up at the werewolf—the tears practically gone and nearly forgotten in his curiosity about Vince and Fletch. All that was left was a lingering dampness on his cheeks. Certain "circumstances"..? Andrew blinked his green eyes as he listened. It sounded like something had really just gotten in between their friendship, simple as that. It was something you heard people talking about all the time; something in the shows and books and hallways or school. He wondered what it could have been...but that would be being nosy, wouldn't it? Then again, Andrew wasn't known for minding his own business, really. "So...what happened?" he asked. He wasn't sure if he could expect an answer or not. It seemed like he was able to get things out of Fletcher pretty easy though, if he just tried.
He heard Fletcher answer, his happiness rose higher to hear that the werewolf would stay with him. Then he found himself laying on his bed, still held to the other's chest. Yes, he really would be able to stay like this forever. He should be able to stay like this forever. But that wasn't going to happen. A quiet sigh left his mouth as his eyes closed again. Andrew concentrated on the way that he was so close to the other boy, the way their legs were tangled together, the way that Fletcher's arms held him. And the way his head rested on the werewolf's chest, their bodies moving up and down slightly as he breathed, his heartbeat. That might be his favorite part—that simple heartbeat was so beautiful. Being a vampire really did suck alot.
Andrew wrapped his arms around Fletcher tighter, bringing his body closer, if that was possible. His eyes remained hidden behind his eyelids as his body relaxed and calmed. A feeling of happiness was actually starting to come to him, laying like this with Fletcher, for the first time since he'd heard about Vincent being murdered. "I love you." Andrew's eyes opened again to look softly up at the werewolf. His stomach did a flip—okay, a few flips—at the words. He reached up and placed a quick kiss on the other boy's lips. "I love you too..." he said quietly. He did, right? Those words weren't something he'd really ever said to anyone before. All those past relationships hadn't meant anything...and they all failed in comparison to this one. Yeah, he was pretty sure he loved Fletcher. He rested his head on the other's comfortable chest again, eyes slowly closing.
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fletcher cross
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Post by fletcher cross on Aug 12, 2008 21:17:45 GMT -5
Fletcher shifted uncomfortably under the vampire. It wasn’t the way how he was tangled in the sheets that bothered him, or how the fluffy comforter puffed up like a cloud around them, or how Andrew’s body settled into him and contorted like they were one person. It was that stupid topic. Why did they have to keep getting back to that?! Couldn’t Andrew just enjoy his company without finding out his life story? Or, perhaps, take in how the light hit the werewolf’s fair skin in all the right places? Was he not enough, lying there, in the other boy’s bed, looking up at him with loving eyes? Apparently not. Apparently—or, more fitting, unfortunately—the past mattered.
So what was he supposed to say? He couldn’t just sit there and watch the freshman crack under his very own words. That was punishment in itself. Was this Vincent’s revenge? He was probably sitting in heaven, smirking down at the poor boy. It was a fair trade—to Vince, at least. I get Andrew, and he gets to torture me every winking moment of the rest of my life. This is what he got for playing the jealousy card in a friendship that could’ve only gone uphill. This is what he got for curling up in his bed at night, wishing that Vincent would just go away and die so he could have the vampire all to himself. Looks like someone had been listening in on his wishes.
Yes, Fletcher? What DID happen? Oh, god. Now his fucking voice was in his head. Vincent just wouldn’t get out of his life, would he?! His eyes shut tightly for a moment, trying to push all thoughts of the carcass he’d seen earlier on in the week, and forced himself to relax. His face became an emotionless mask. Each feature slowed down to tranquility; his mouth twitched, then relaxed, his eyelids were smooth over his azure eyes, and his forehead had smoothed out. Even his skin, which had before seemed like it was stressing to reach over all of his features, exposing his bones clearly, had reduced itself to look as naturally smooth as possible. He could do this. It was a simple question, right? What had happened? “You,” he whispered, lips barely moving as they parted for the word.
The mask was broken as soon as the vampire spoke again. The edges of his lips curled into a small smile, almost automatically, at the sound. An electrifying sensation shot up his arms and down his spine, his heartbeat sped up—and he swore it skipped a few beats. All he needed in his life, he quietly mused, was this. Curled up with Andrew, gaze softening as their lips met, and savoring each moment as if it was his last. Fletcher watched as the emerald disappeared again, waiting a few moments as he took in every possible feature before he too let his eyes close again. One hand crawled up to the other’s back, which he rubbed lightly. He needed to keep himself busy, otherwise he’d fall asleep...
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andrew lacetti
vampire
wields fire super-speed immune to daylight
Posts: 97
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Post by andrew lacetti on Aug 12, 2008 23:17:49 GMT -5
Andrew felt the other moving under him as he asked what had happened between the two (past) friends. Sorry, he thought, not speaking it out loud though, for whatever reason. He really didn't mean to make it uncomfortable for the other. Andrew was just being nosy Andrew again. Burying his head into the crook of the other's neck, he waited, listening for an answer from Fletcher. Anything. Hopefully Fletcher hadn't gotten angry with him for butting into his business. Maybe he should say that apology outloud... It could wait. It could just be that the werewolf was trying to find some way to tell him. The other had been struggling the whole time to explain this to him.
When the answer came though, he hadn't exactly be ready for it. Him? The whole reason two boys had gone from best friends to enemies was him. He couldn't help the sly smirk that curled his lips at that (this definitely couldn't be good for his already big ego). "Because of me?" he asked, voice relaying shock and a tone of conceitedness. So...Fletcher had had a crush on him (obviously) and he'd figured out Vincent had too. It hadn't been that hard to piece together. Andrew wasn't oblivious, he could tell when a person liked him... Well, most people, that was. Other than the one special exception of Fletcher.
A yawn left Andrew's mouth and he shifted slightly on top of Fletcher. Sleep was starting to come over him. Though he didn't really want to fall alseep yet. Not while he had Fletcher here, so close...right under him... Greens became half-visible as he felt a hand lightly rub his back. Andrew opened his eyes more as a mischievous smirk came to his face again. Sitting up slightly, planted his lips on Fletcher's, wrapping his arms around the other's neck.
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