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Post by Deleted on Feb 16, 2015 20:36:46 GMT
Sleep. Something he tried to get as much of as he could, but it just so happened that it was the one thing he'd never get. He'd sit and stare at the wall or count the shadows that crawled across his ceiling at night through his cracked window shades or pace around his room, begging for the Sandman to knock him upside the head and put him to sleep. It never happened though, not even now. It wasn't that late, just getting dark, but he had nothing better to do- so attempting to sleep was the only thing he could really do. His parents were out on a date night, the thought making him sick- love wasn't his forte-, and his little sisters were passed out. Typical.
It was clear that he wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon, so Eden gave up and threw the covers off of him, exposing his childish pajama pants and loose white tee covered by a green jacket. His hair was a mess, which wasn't a surprise, but he trotted into the bathroom within his room and tried to fix it anyways. Didn't work, shocker.
Rolling his eyes at his appearance, he shook his head and walked back to his bed, but he was stopped by a tapping at his window. With a quick glance in that direction, he dove on to his bed, reaching across the mattress to grab the nearest item as a weapon. His fingers grasped something sturdy, and his hand came back and he groaned. A pen. Out of everything he could've grabbed, he was stuck with a pen to protect himself. Groaning, he peered at the window one more time and sighed. Great. He'd gone ninja for nothing. Mentally scolding himself, his eyes rose to meet with a tree branch brushing the glass. Fantastic.
Chucking the pen across the room, he hopped of the bed and neared the window. Silently ripping open the glass frame open, he leaned outside and wrapped his fingers around the nimble branch. Ripping it of the limb hanging just above his roof, he tossed it to the ground. That's when he saw them. He couldn't tell who, but someone was outside. Squinting at the road, he frowned. They were a far distance away, but still close to his house considering it was past midnight. Biting his lip, he debated whether or not to yell at the stranger- though his wits came around and he decided it'd be better not to. Instead, he eased his window shut and scrambled down the stairs in his youthful pajamas, combing down his messy hair as he made his way towards the door. Tugging it open slowly, he stuck is head out to look around, trying to spot the person. Once he did, he stepped out a bit more, calling out to them from his doorstep- being loud enough for them to hear, but keeping it down for the neighbors.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Talking to strangers at night again, he just doesn't learn.
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Hosie
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Apr 15, 2018 16:37:29 GMT
Tag me @dentonnoble
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Post by Denton Noble on Feb 19, 2015 16:29:32 GMT
Quiet evenings – Denton had never been very good at them. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy sitting on a second hand sofa (that looked like it’d been fashioned out of some old woman’s curtains) and staring at a grainy television that was too small for the table it’d been mounted on; it was that he couldn’t stand the thought of spending the evening with his dad, who would no doubt be passed out on the sofa, burned out spliff in his mouth and more saliva dripping onto his shirt than actually contained within his mouth. His mum would either be asleep or at the allotment, deciding she’d rather spend the evening tending to her basil than keeping her husband from a drug-comatose, or preventing her son from going insane trying to deal with it all.
It was for this reason that, by midnight that night, Denton had found himself pulling on his underpants, grabbing his trousers and running for the door, the girl he’d been bedding for the past two months turning out to have a very drunk, very angry, hulk of a boyfriend. Um. Oops? Worst part was, he couldn’t even claim he didn’t know about the six-foot-three Hercules, as the girl had warned him all those months ago that she was spoken for, and he’d only laughed and took the challenge.
Right now, it seemed like a very bad decision on his part.
He’d spent the past fifteen minutes running from the God of a man, but he’d never been good at long distance, and his chest was heaving, almost tight from the sheer coldness of the night air against bare skin. He could no longer feel his nipples. Could this night get any more disastrous? …Don’t answer that. Sliding into a dirty alley to the left of the main road, his dirtied socks skidded against the rough paving, tight breath pushing through his mouth as he did his best to tiptoe out of the light of the road, once white ankle socks slowly turning blacker and blacker as they rubbed against the moss and mud of the damp cobbles. Damn. He was going to need to buy some new socks after this affair.
At the end of the alley, husky voices passed by, and Denton made an extra effort to hurry down the narrow passage, ignoring the hints of a shiny green glass that painted the floor. That was, until one stuck into his foot, piercing through the black of his sock and turning his pale skin red as blood began to seep from the wound. After biting back a small yelp, he pushed forward again, determined not to be deterred by the flesh wound in his foot, until yet another embedded itself in the same foot, and Denton ended up swearing under his breath, quickly concluding that he was never going to drop a glass bottle on a road ever again, just in case there was some poor soul in his position (it was doubtful, but the thought was there).
Six more incidents involving cold feet and green glass, and he’d finally made it through the alley to the road beyond. Stood at the entrance, Dent could only turn on his heel as he heard a voice from one of the houses beyond, slowly registering that he must look quite a state right now – he wasn’t even wearing pants, and his nipples? He wasn’t sure if he even had any anymore. Doing his best to cover his practically frostbitten chest with the only thing in his possession (the pants he’d tried and failed to put on earlier), he threw the stranger an almost nervous smile, glancing down at the feet that were now the colour of a Les Mis song, before focusing on him again, trying to figure out exactly how to explain this situation.
“I will be, I think – don’t suppose you have a first aid kit lying around, and maybe a spare shirt?” He shuffled towards the stranger then, slowly realising he probably sounded like the biggest weirdo on the face of the planet right now, and so followed it up with, “I promise I’m not drunk, or high, or – or anything really – just naturally horrendous at making life choices that don’t result in me running through broken bottle valley?” The sentence ended as a question, his voice taking an inquisitive tone, even if he hadn’t meant for it to. In truth, he just wanted help (and make a nice cup of hot chocolate, if he was lucky), but he wasn’t sure if he was actually going to get it. Strangers had a habit of shutting doors in his face, he found.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 19, 2015 23:44:41 GMT
Well, that wasn't at all what he expected to crawl out of the shadows across the street. Maybe another lost girl- like last time, or even a citizen from another District who weren't accustomed to the twisted dirt roads of Seven, but a boy not much older than himself dressed in slack underwear, shredded socks that were presumably once white, and clutching a pair of jeans against his bare chest while claiming to not be on any drugs? It was the last thing he had suspected to see peek out of the nearby alley. The initial shock of it all made him freeze, just glancing up and down his shivering body as he tried to process it all. Then it struck. First aid kit- this kid was hurt. Eden didn't know where or if this was all just a rouse to just get him out of the safety of his home, but he didn't care. He had to help.
Snapping out of his daze, a pep fell into his step as he tiptoed towards the male quickly. He was hesitant on his feet, his mind urging him to run back inside and check on his sisters as they slept, but his heart thumped with the need to help this male. Closing the distance easily, he took the goosebump coated man in with a gentle turn of his gaze, a smile casting over his lips to show that he meant no harm. Not that he even looked like he could cause any trouble. He was a pudgy teen with bright eyes that oozed innocence and a conflicted heart- boys or girls? He just couldn't settle on which churned his emotions more, but this nearly nude man was making his decision sway. Choking that down, he couldn't afford to think that way when this male was draining life through cracks in his flesh. "I believe you, and god- I wish they would clean up these roads. It's not safe for the kids to play on," who knows how many times he had to pick glass out of Melody and Marzia's petite feet. He frowned at the thought, nearly second guessing bringing this stranger into his house where his siblings were sleeping, but as a breeze tore by, he wrapped his arm around the male's waist and insisted, "Lean on me. I'll help you get inside, yeah?"
The boy turned his gaze towards the taller male, his grin growing hopefully as he added, "Eden, by the way. My sisters are sleeping upstairs, so we'll have to be quiet, but I'll patch you up and get you warmed up- and you'll tell me why you're like this." It wasn't a question as much as it was a demand. If he was going to put his trust in the fact that this man wouldn't harm him or his family, then he'd need some explanation.
Stepping towards his house with a gentle pace to make sure he didn't strain this stranger, he tried to not tuck his head against the male's chest- not because it'd be weird, but simply because he didn't feel like having his eye poked by the frostbitten nipples on his chest.
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Hosie
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Apr 15, 2018 16:37:29 GMT
Tag me @dentonnoble
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Post by Denton Noble on Feb 21, 2015 12:28:34 GMT
His knight in shining armor turned out to be a cute seventeen year old in his pajamas. Well, this was just fucking dandy, wasn't it? Okay, so maybe he wasn't too upset by the fact that the kid was insisting on helping him into the house, rosed feet threatening to stain his carpet with prints of brown-black mud, a reddish, bloody tinge hinting through the mess, but he couldn't help but feel at least a little guilty, and Denton didn't cope with guilt well. Hell, it turned him into a grumpy teddy bear, who almost always ended up folding his arms around himself and acting as if he was merely just pissed off that anything was happening at all, as clearly he didn't want it to (even though, in this case, he totally did).
Attempting to cheer himself up, he made a conscious effort to remember that, even if he was leaving a permanent stain on some stranger's carpet, at least he wasn't home. He wasn't having to deal with his dad waking up from his drug induced stupor, dazed and confused as he wandered around the house, wondering exactly why he'd decided to eat half of his wife's birthday cake in the name of midnight munchies, and then sleepily trying to figure out how he could explain this one until a thought will cross his mind, and suddenly it's all Denton's fault that any of this happened. Whatever. He was used to it, but that didn't mean he'd rather be home than with the stranger. Sure, he was embarrassed, and a little guilty, but anything beat actually being at home and trying to ignore his problems by turning his music up (and pretending he didn't just hear his dad fall down the stairs.. Again).
After some time had passed, it occurred to Denton that he'd just taken the help without a word and, given that he was usually unusually chatty, he should probably say something - anything - to at least thank the stranger for this, as right know he was just numbly moving towards his house, soaking up the warmth leaking from his pajamas wordlessly. 'You probably seem insane,' he thought, but quickly shook the thought away. He could fix this. He could prove he wasn't a total nutcase, right? It couldn't be that hard to seem like a normal teenage boy, right? It's not like he was exceptionally weird anyway, right? ...Don't answer that.
"Throw in some hot chocolate and you have yourself a deal," he replied, signature flicker of a cheeky smile spreading across his face. He knew he shouldn't be pushing boundaries. The guy was being good to him by merely letting him into his home, and Denton was insisting on still being the selfish bastard that he was, and asking for more. He shouldn't have said it, he should've said something meek and polite, like "thank you", or literally anything other than "give me more things and maybe I'll give you what you want." Politeness had never been his strong suit, however, and so even after deciding he was an arsehole, it took him another minute or two to finally add, "I'm kidding - I'm just glad you're helping me." It wasn't a thank you, by any means, but it was a start. It was progress.
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