As a religious man, Claudeson Bademosi had studied every depiction of Hell that there was in the Bible. He knew it to be a place for the souls of the wicked, inhabited by the dregs of the mortal world, whose immortal souls would be cursed for all eternity. Hell was for those that the Almighty deemed not only unfit but grievously unsuited to enter Heaven. It was eternal punishment for those who held only darkness in their heart.
Some texts said that it smelled of sulphur and ash.
Others described it as filled with fire, the screams of the damned a constant reminder for any outsider unfortunate enough to find themselves in such a place.
Almost all sects of the Christian religion seemed to agree that it was a place of endless suffering, something to be avoided at all costs.
It was almost funny, Claudeson thought to himself. In no text nor theological writing that he'd ever read would Hell be described as a mundane room in a Washington DC hotel, but after a day and a half, he was absolutely sure: if he could survive a week in room 704 with this band of sinners and miscreants, Hell would comparatively feel like a vacation.
((CLAUDESON BADEMOSI TRIP START))
Sitting on the chair beside the window at the far side of the hotel room, Claudeson allowed himself a wry smile. Okay, so that was maybe a little bit of a stretch. Not that he believed that he was bound for Hell nor did it really compare to eternal damnation, but for an array of different reasons, it had been a trying couple of days. The very first hurdle had been one of his own making. Whatever tricks his mind had been playing on him up to this point, he still felt the dark cloud lurking in the back of his mind. It meant that sleeping was hard, he had no appetite, and the bus trip - which seemed to be a momentous and joyous time for many of his more rambunctious classmates - was near-torturous. Through all of the bumps and jostles, Claudeson couldn't figure out a comfortable position to sleep in, the books that he'd brought didn't hold his interest, and even floating through a few Spotify playlists didn't seem to improve his mood. As such, when they'd arrived in Washington, instead of feeling a rush of energy, he had just felt drained.
Not having made any particular arrangement of his own, Claudeson had been admittedly a little curious to see who he'd end up rooming with. His room assignment could make or break his experience on the trip, and privately, he hoped that he'd end up in a room with some of the quieter students - someone like Ned Jackson would be ideal. The first person had been Sven Vee, which worked for Claudeson. He didn't know Sven overly well, but when the boy had stepped forward, he recognized him as someone who tended to keep to himself. A good start.
Immediately thereafter, it had all gone to hell.
Aurelian Valter and Dante Valerio weren't bad people in his eyes, they hadn't done anything to him personally, but he was awestruck that the faculty had seemingly skimmed past the fact that the two boys were involved.
Sexually.
Even he'd known that, so it seemed like an egregious oversight. That or someone on the faculty had it out for him. Claudeson swallowed the bile in his throat as he stared out the window at the rising sun over the nation's capital.
Protesting would have made him persona non grata throughout his classmates, so he'd said nothing. He barely had the energy to wear a smile to greet his roommates as they'd gathered their belongings. Naturally, the couple had been ecstatic, and Claudeson didn't want to rain on their parade.
That was a lie, he realized. He really, really wanted to rain on their parade. His own mind seemed to be pouring all over his own, so why not spread the wealth? Besides, their behaviour thus far had not been overly considerate to him or his quieter roommate. Claude didn't know what Sven thought of the affectionate behaviour they had already displayed, but he couldn't imagine that it made him all that comfortable, either. It wasn't that they were two boys, Claudeson convinced himself. No, that had absolutely nothing to do with it. He would have been uncomfortable with any two people showing intimate affection towards one another, especially in company.
It was rude.
Sighing to himself, Claudeson continued to look out the window. He had bags under his eyes; he still was having an inordinate amount of trouble sleeping. The hotel was serving breakfast; at some point, he supposed he should eat.
But for so many reasons, his appetite still hadn't shown up either.
"At least the sun is shining," he murmured to himself. The sun never shone in Hell.
Room 704: Liberate Me Ex Inferis
Sven/Dante/Aurelien and Claude.
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MurderWeasel
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Sven had waited with baited breath for the designated bus to carry him to the capitol, but when it had arrived he had hesitated upon the threshold; he'd hated how frustrated the situation left him, all his potential enthusiasm for the long-awaited voyage gated behind the universal yet unstated fear that infiltrated their minds and deflated their otherwise-unadulterated anticipation—truly he hated how agitated yet obligated it left him, how such an occasion designated for joyous celebration could be desecrated by the accumulated effects of nebulously-motivated attacks associated with such ventures, the tendency for high school students such as themselves to be incarcerated, humiliated, decimated, and ultimately all but exterminated, some sorry few every time even decapitated, all while the government deliberated and delegated and vacillated and corroborated and failed to realize just how premeditated the attacks were, how well they invalidated all gains in the field of simulated safety and peace, but someone behind Sven had poked him and so he had consolidated and truncated his musings and boarded, heading for the seat he appropriated at the back, only mildly aggravated.
Then they weren't kidnapped and killed by terrorists, to his surprise, and now he was in a hotel room.
When it came to roommates, Sven could have done much worse, but also much better. Aurelian and Dante were apparently a couple; he'd learned this more or less when he learned their names. The odds of sharing a room with an openly-gay couple seemed like they should be pretty small on a global scale, which of course meant that it was destined to happen to Sven.
He didn't care at all, on any sort of religious grounds. What was that philosophical argument again? A God worth worshiping wouldn't damn you to an eternity of suffering for something that He made you, and a God who would damn you for such would not be worthy of worship? Something like that, though small comfort to the eternally-damned. It bothered Sven that he couldn't remember if that argument was Kant or not, that he couldn't even remember precisely what Kant was about. Sartre? No, definitely not, but someone with a name sort of similar, or perhaps also French.
They'd been here over a day now, and Sven wondered every moment a little more strongly why exactly he had agreed to come on this trip. On an intellectual level, of course, he knew. It was a trial of a sort, a tentative step outside the cocoon he'd woven for himself and a reengagement with the world, and also a way to prove that he got too worked up about things, that nothing bad would happen on the trip. But on an emotional and spiritual level, the reasons were much murkier. Something bad had happened, after all. They hadn't crashed and died in a fireball, and they hadn't been spirited away, but they had to share beds and that was almost as bad.
Sven was not a particularly physically affectionate person. In fact, he displayed qualities of neither physicality nor affection in abundance in isolation. Claudeson, the final member of their little crew, was a fine bedmate in that he too kept to himself, no intruding fingers or toes, but still. Was this legal? It seemed like it shouldn't be. The liability for things to go wrong was so high. Sven found himself often feeling as if he'd slipped into a storybook, with varying degrees of certainty, or a movie or a television show, but today's excursion was into a realm altogether new to him: this was clearly the setup for hardcore pornography. He did not appreciate this feeling.
He also did not appreciate that Claudeson also seemed to stick to the sidelines, and had gotten to the seat by the window first. Sven preferred to cling to the fringes, the shadows, the places where he could fade a little bit and turn incorporeal. It made it easier if he didn't have to be fully present, easier if he wasn't so attuned to the unspoken vibes buzzing between them all. It wasn't Claudeson's fault, and Sven bore him no ill will, but still he wished he'd been speedier.
What was there even to do in Washington DC? He'd had a good dinner. That had been nice. And a good breakfast, but such amenities existed in Chattanooga.
Because Sven couldn't have the window seat, he sat instead on the bed. He was tempted to take up the lotus position, which held a certain calming effect, except he couldn't quite do it right anymore and he didn't want to attract more looks and focus than he already did, as that would more than undo any mental boons. He was dressed for the day, at least, and could leave at any time, theoretically, if there was somewhere to go, which there wasn't. So he sat and watched and waited, saying nothing, doing nothing, trying and failing to be nothing.
Then they weren't kidnapped and killed by terrorists, to his surprise, and now he was in a hotel room.
When it came to roommates, Sven could have done much worse, but also much better. Aurelian and Dante were apparently a couple; he'd learned this more or less when he learned their names. The odds of sharing a room with an openly-gay couple seemed like they should be pretty small on a global scale, which of course meant that it was destined to happen to Sven.
He didn't care at all, on any sort of religious grounds. What was that philosophical argument again? A God worth worshiping wouldn't damn you to an eternity of suffering for something that He made you, and a God who would damn you for such would not be worthy of worship? Something like that, though small comfort to the eternally-damned. It bothered Sven that he couldn't remember if that argument was Kant or not, that he couldn't even remember precisely what Kant was about. Sartre? No, definitely not, but someone with a name sort of similar, or perhaps also French.
They'd been here over a day now, and Sven wondered every moment a little more strongly why exactly he had agreed to come on this trip. On an intellectual level, of course, he knew. It was a trial of a sort, a tentative step outside the cocoon he'd woven for himself and a reengagement with the world, and also a way to prove that he got too worked up about things, that nothing bad would happen on the trip. But on an emotional and spiritual level, the reasons were much murkier. Something bad had happened, after all. They hadn't crashed and died in a fireball, and they hadn't been spirited away, but they had to share beds and that was almost as bad.
Sven was not a particularly physically affectionate person. In fact, he displayed qualities of neither physicality nor affection in abundance in isolation. Claudeson, the final member of their little crew, was a fine bedmate in that he too kept to himself, no intruding fingers or toes, but still. Was this legal? It seemed like it shouldn't be. The liability for things to go wrong was so high. Sven found himself often feeling as if he'd slipped into a storybook, with varying degrees of certainty, or a movie or a television show, but today's excursion was into a realm altogether new to him: this was clearly the setup for hardcore pornography. He did not appreciate this feeling.
He also did not appreciate that Claudeson also seemed to stick to the sidelines, and had gotten to the seat by the window first. Sven preferred to cling to the fringes, the shadows, the places where he could fade a little bit and turn incorporeal. It made it easier if he didn't have to be fully present, easier if he wasn't so attuned to the unspoken vibes buzzing between them all. It wasn't Claudeson's fault, and Sven bore him no ill will, but still he wished he'd been speedier.
What was there even to do in Washington DC? He'd had a good dinner. That had been nice. And a good breakfast, but such amenities existed in Chattanooga.
Because Sven couldn't have the window seat, he sat instead on the bed. He was tempted to take up the lotus position, which held a certain calming effect, except he couldn't quite do it right anymore and he didn't want to attract more looks and focus than he already did, as that would more than undo any mental boons. He was dressed for the day, at least, and could leave at any time, theoretically, if there was somewhere to go, which there wasn't. So he sat and watched and waited, saying nothing, doing nothing, trying and failing to be nothing.
Claudeson and Sven probably heard them coming. Dante's flip-flops sounded real loud making those flip-flop flapping noises hitting the ground in the hallway outside, but that probably didn't reach through the walls. What did was the solid thirty seconds it took him to open the door what with him putting the keycard through the wrong way and also forgetting what color the light was supposed to turn and then dropping the keycard twice cause his hands were slippery. Lucky he even remembered a keycard, Aurelien'd left his in the room. Eventually they made it in.
"Uh, hey, guys."
They were both dripping wet.
>> DANTE VALERIO: TRIP START
See, they'd decided to go to the pool early when hopefully other people were busy doing trip stuff, since it seemed like it got pretty crowded in the evening when everyone got back to the hotel. Plan worked like a charm; it was just the two of them and a big-ass indoor pool. So they fucked around for a while, blew off some energy. Dante had been feeling kinda stir-crazy since he got here. Wasn't a great place to go running; there were just too many people around to crash into. And his mom had made him leave his board at home. So swimming had seemed like a decent option, even if that swimming was less "doing laps" and more "how many cannonballs can you do before you start getting dizzy". Which was like, a lot of cannonballs, but the chlorine smell always made him woozy after a while, so here they were.
Problem was they totally forgot towels. He was pretty sure they were supposed to have free ones around somewhere, but he couldn't find them. So he'd been real insistent the two of them stay there until they could drip dry a little at least, but they were both hungry and impatient and eventually they'd made their way back up. Not totally soaked, but yeah, still dripping. Hopefully they didn't make too much trouble for the janitors. He was seriously tempted to backtrack and try to dry the mess they'd made himself, but there was no real point in doing that without a towel, was there?
He dipped straight into the bathroom for a couple of towels, tossing one to Aurelien and kicking off his flip-flops so as not to track any more water into the room. After he was reasonably dry and he'd wrung out the excess water from his hair, he left the bathroom and went to sit on the edge of his bed.
The room was ice-cold. And he didn't mean the air conditioning. That too, though.
He knew full well that Sven and, especially, Claudeson didn't want to be here. Dante wasn't the most observant guy in the world, but he wasn't blind, either. Neither was Aurelien, who seemed like he gave much less of a fuck about the matter. Lion'd been nothing but happy since they'd gotten here and honestly his energy was infectious. It was real hard for their rooming situation to seem like a bummer when they were together. And Dante didn't have anything against their two roommates, personally. He didn't know Sven, really, he just seemed like a quiet guy. He didn't know Claudeson much better, but he'd run into him while running before, he knew he was a religious guy, he'd been unflaggingly polite in the past. So what was happening now?
Lion had some ideas. Dante didn't want to assume anything. He'd been just as happy as Lion when he found out they were rooming together, but he'd put up some boundaries he knew Lion'd happily break given the opportunity; he was pretty much out now, since prom, and wasn't exactly hiding the two of them were dating, but it seemed like common courtesy not to be all over each other with other people in the room. So the worst they'd done (with the others there, anyway) was a peck on the lips, or a quick hand squeeze, or, well, okay, yes, they did cuddle while they slept, but the other two were presumably asleep for that, so it was fine, right?
Was that too much, even? Where was the line? He was trying to make things good for everyone and it seemed like every time he came back to the room everyone was just... bummed. And that was a bummer.
"Uh..." He should probably try to diffuse the tension, somehow. Wasn't sure what to say though. Something neutral.
"Me n'Aurelien were gonna head down to breakfast. Think they're closing in a bit. If y'all wanna come?"
"Uh, hey, guys."
They were both dripping wet.
>> DANTE VALERIO: TRIP START
See, they'd decided to go to the pool early when hopefully other people were busy doing trip stuff, since it seemed like it got pretty crowded in the evening when everyone got back to the hotel. Plan worked like a charm; it was just the two of them and a big-ass indoor pool. So they fucked around for a while, blew off some energy. Dante had been feeling kinda stir-crazy since he got here. Wasn't a great place to go running; there were just too many people around to crash into. And his mom had made him leave his board at home. So swimming had seemed like a decent option, even if that swimming was less "doing laps" and more "how many cannonballs can you do before you start getting dizzy". Which was like, a lot of cannonballs, but the chlorine smell always made him woozy after a while, so here they were.
Problem was they totally forgot towels. He was pretty sure they were supposed to have free ones around somewhere, but he couldn't find them. So he'd been real insistent the two of them stay there until they could drip dry a little at least, but they were both hungry and impatient and eventually they'd made their way back up. Not totally soaked, but yeah, still dripping. Hopefully they didn't make too much trouble for the janitors. He was seriously tempted to backtrack and try to dry the mess they'd made himself, but there was no real point in doing that without a towel, was there?
He dipped straight into the bathroom for a couple of towels, tossing one to Aurelien and kicking off his flip-flops so as not to track any more water into the room. After he was reasonably dry and he'd wrung out the excess water from his hair, he left the bathroom and went to sit on the edge of his bed.
The room was ice-cold. And he didn't mean the air conditioning. That too, though.
He knew full well that Sven and, especially, Claudeson didn't want to be here. Dante wasn't the most observant guy in the world, but he wasn't blind, either. Neither was Aurelien, who seemed like he gave much less of a fuck about the matter. Lion'd been nothing but happy since they'd gotten here and honestly his energy was infectious. It was real hard for their rooming situation to seem like a bummer when they were together. And Dante didn't have anything against their two roommates, personally. He didn't know Sven, really, he just seemed like a quiet guy. He didn't know Claudeson much better, but he'd run into him while running before, he knew he was a religious guy, he'd been unflaggingly polite in the past. So what was happening now?
Lion had some ideas. Dante didn't want to assume anything. He'd been just as happy as Lion when he found out they were rooming together, but he'd put up some boundaries he knew Lion'd happily break given the opportunity; he was pretty much out now, since prom, and wasn't exactly hiding the two of them were dating, but it seemed like common courtesy not to be all over each other with other people in the room. So the worst they'd done (with the others there, anyway) was a peck on the lips, or a quick hand squeeze, or, well, okay, yes, they did cuddle while they slept, but the other two were presumably asleep for that, so it was fine, right?
Was that too much, even? Where was the line? He was trying to make things good for everyone and it seemed like every time he came back to the room everyone was just... bummed. And that was a bummer.
"Uh..." He should probably try to diffuse the tension, somehow. Wasn't sure what to say though. Something neutral.
"Me n'Aurelien were gonna head down to breakfast. Think they're closing in a bit. If y'all wanna come?"
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
Aurelien had not wanted to leave the pool.
Okay, in fairness, a good part of that had been the fact that he hadn’t managed to nail standing on top of the inflatable pool raft yet, and he was pretty certain that he would have been able to after a couple more goes, if only his stomach hadn’t started rumbling really loudly and letting both himself and Dante know it was very much breakfast time.
But mostly it was the fact that he had been dreading going back to their room ever since he’d first set foot in there.
Dante had set some groundrules for how they needed to act, which was appreciated but unnecessary; he wasn’t about to start making out with his boyfriend whilst there were other people sharing a room with them, or anything more than that, for that matter. Kisses and handholding were fair game, as far as he was concerned, though, and if anyone thought that they could stop him from sharing a bed with Dante, they were crazy.
So Aurelien had followed those rules, and kept up the same high-tempo, high-energy level of cheerfulness and friendliness he always did, and what did he get from it? Nothing but blank looks and cold stares and the most baseline levels of acknowledgement possible.
Sven was, admittedly, just kinda like that in general. It was hard to feel antagonistic towards someone who’d been given such a catastrophically shitty lot in life and who naturally gravitated away from social situations. That was acceptable, if a kinda disappointing person to have to share a room with. But Claude was someone who Aurelien had been much more positive about bunking with; he was much more friendly and warm around school than Sven, and Aurelien had expected that attitude to persist onto the trip.
Instead, he’d been moody and distant and, well… cold. That about summed up the room situation nicely.
Aurelien did indeed have his own ideas as to why that might be. He knew Claude was one of those super religious types, he knew that he was sharing a room with an openly gay couple all of a sudden. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. It was tempting, oh man was it tempting to just start something, see if his thoughts were correct. But what would be the point? He wanted to have a good time on this trip, and more importantly he wanted Dante to have a good time. Turning the room from ‘cold’ to ‘frosty’ wouldn’t be fun for anybody.
“Yeah, they do a pretty good spread,” Aurelien said, forcing a smile onto his face, making his voice peppy and cheerful. “Offer’s open for both of you to come join us.”
He bit the inside of his lip as a droplet of water trailed down from the hair hanging in front of his face and down his nose.
“I’m uh… gonna go towel off properly and get changed. Stop myself from, y’know…”
Aurelien gestured down himself, from his sopping wet hair to his clothing consisting of a zip-up hoody and soaked through boxers, to the puddle of water he was standing in.
“Yeah.”
He nodded at Dante, before quickly moving into the bathroom and into someplace warmer.
Okay, in fairness, a good part of that had been the fact that he hadn’t managed to nail standing on top of the inflatable pool raft yet, and he was pretty certain that he would have been able to after a couple more goes, if only his stomach hadn’t started rumbling really loudly and letting both himself and Dante know it was very much breakfast time.
But mostly it was the fact that he had been dreading going back to their room ever since he’d first set foot in there.
Dante had set some groundrules for how they needed to act, which was appreciated but unnecessary; he wasn’t about to start making out with his boyfriend whilst there were other people sharing a room with them, or anything more than that, for that matter. Kisses and handholding were fair game, as far as he was concerned, though, and if anyone thought that they could stop him from sharing a bed with Dante, they were crazy.
So Aurelien had followed those rules, and kept up the same high-tempo, high-energy level of cheerfulness and friendliness he always did, and what did he get from it? Nothing but blank looks and cold stares and the most baseline levels of acknowledgement possible.
Sven was, admittedly, just kinda like that in general. It was hard to feel antagonistic towards someone who’d been given such a catastrophically shitty lot in life and who naturally gravitated away from social situations. That was acceptable, if a kinda disappointing person to have to share a room with. But Claude was someone who Aurelien had been much more positive about bunking with; he was much more friendly and warm around school than Sven, and Aurelien had expected that attitude to persist onto the trip.
Instead, he’d been moody and distant and, well… cold. That about summed up the room situation nicely.
Aurelien did indeed have his own ideas as to why that might be. He knew Claude was one of those super religious types, he knew that he was sharing a room with an openly gay couple all of a sudden. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. It was tempting, oh man was it tempting to just start something, see if his thoughts were correct. But what would be the point? He wanted to have a good time on this trip, and more importantly he wanted Dante to have a good time. Turning the room from ‘cold’ to ‘frosty’ wouldn’t be fun for anybody.
“Yeah, they do a pretty good spread,” Aurelien said, forcing a smile onto his face, making his voice peppy and cheerful. “Offer’s open for both of you to come join us.”
He bit the inside of his lip as a droplet of water trailed down from the hair hanging in front of his face and down his nose.
“I’m uh… gonna go towel off properly and get changed. Stop myself from, y’know…”
Aurelien gestured down himself, from his sopping wet hair to his clothing consisting of a zip-up hoody and soaked through boxers, to the puddle of water he was standing in.
“Yeah.”
He nodded at Dante, before quickly moving into the bathroom and into someplace warmer.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
As if on cue, here they were.
Rubbing some of the fatigue out of his eyes, Claudeson didn't make a move to look at the door, nor at Sven, who had also kept rather quiet. The two had basically been sitting in silence since Claudeson had awoken, which was perfectly fine for him at this juncture. That sanctuary was about to come to a very abrupt end, signalled by the frustrated sound of a keycard being inserted into the door's card reader several times until the mechanism finally acquiesced. As the two came bounding into the room, followed by the pitter-patter of dripping water, Claudeson didn't look up, instead continuing to stare out the window, his shoulders falling only slightly.
There was a moment of silence; obviously a shared awkward look between Aurelian and Dante that Claudeson could see without even having to look, and then Dante extended an olive branch to the two of them, which Aurelian reinforced. Deep down, Claudeson appreciated the gesture. He knew that his company was likely not all that pleasant at the moment and he was aware of how that likely looked to his two compatriots.
Sven still didn't say much of anything. He may as well have been a picture, hanging on the wall.
Summoning all of his energy from within, Claudeson put on a polite, weakened smile and looked at Aurelian and Dante with tired eyes.
"Thank you for the invitation, I appreciate it. Unfortunately, I don't have much of an appetite right now." He left that sit for a moment, but decided to at least make an attempt at joviality. "Perhaps later on?"
He didn't know how convincing he was. His head hurt a little, his eyes felt tired, and his spirit was drained. The last thing that he wanted to do was be on this trip. Claudeson knew that he was in crisis, and none of this was helping. He didn't want to be cooped up in a hotel room with a mentally damaged loner and a couple of fa-
Claudeson blinked and left his eyes closed for just a moment longer, catching his mental train before it went off the rails. It was becoming instinctual for him to feel bad and hurtful towards others and that scared him. Usually these moods went away after a run, a workout, or a trip to the church, but this particular one didn't seem to want to elevate itself. Even praying hadn't seemed to do any good. He had to do something, and soon.
He hated this; all of it.
Rubbing some of the fatigue out of his eyes, Claudeson didn't make a move to look at the door, nor at Sven, who had also kept rather quiet. The two had basically been sitting in silence since Claudeson had awoken, which was perfectly fine for him at this juncture. That sanctuary was about to come to a very abrupt end, signalled by the frustrated sound of a keycard being inserted into the door's card reader several times until the mechanism finally acquiesced. As the two came bounding into the room, followed by the pitter-patter of dripping water, Claudeson didn't look up, instead continuing to stare out the window, his shoulders falling only slightly.
There was a moment of silence; obviously a shared awkward look between Aurelian and Dante that Claudeson could see without even having to look, and then Dante extended an olive branch to the two of them, which Aurelian reinforced. Deep down, Claudeson appreciated the gesture. He knew that his company was likely not all that pleasant at the moment and he was aware of how that likely looked to his two compatriots.
Sven still didn't say much of anything. He may as well have been a picture, hanging on the wall.
Summoning all of his energy from within, Claudeson put on a polite, weakened smile and looked at Aurelian and Dante with tired eyes.
"Thank you for the invitation, I appreciate it. Unfortunately, I don't have much of an appetite right now." He left that sit for a moment, but decided to at least make an attempt at joviality. "Perhaps later on?"
He didn't know how convincing he was. His head hurt a little, his eyes felt tired, and his spirit was drained. The last thing that he wanted to do was be on this trip. Claudeson knew that he was in crisis, and none of this was helping. He didn't want to be cooped up in a hotel room with a mentally damaged loner and a couple of fa-
Claudeson blinked and left his eyes closed for just a moment longer, catching his mental train before it went off the rails. It was becoming instinctual for him to feel bad and hurtful towards others and that scared him. Usually these moods went away after a run, a workout, or a trip to the church, but this particular one didn't seem to want to elevate itself. Even praying hadn't seemed to do any good. He had to do something, and soon.
He hated this; all of it.
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MurderWeasel
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- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Sven blinked. The energy level in the room skyrocketed with the return of the couple from wherever they'd been, surprising Sven slightly as he'd not even fully consciously processed their absence. He was glad now that he and Claudeson were bedmates; Sven was very touchy about dampness, and did not relish the thought of soggy sheets. True, any spots of water left would likely be dry in an hour or two, but he didn't really expect to leave the room during that time.
Dante's invitation threw him for an absolute loop, though. Join them for breakfast? Sven had eaten breakfast hours ago.
He had eaten breakfast hours ago, hadn't he?
He knew, deep down somewhere inside, that he had eaten breakfast, but he couldn't say conclusively that it had actually been today. He'd gotten up early and slipped out of the room. Step by slow quiet step, he had made his way through the hotel to the elevators. He hated elevators. He'd pushed the button and waited, and in time one had arrived and disgorged some classmate he didn't feel bad enough for not recognizing, and he'd gotten in with an elderly couple and been whisked away up to the very top of the hotel because he hadn't checked to see whether the elevator had been moving in the proper direction. In the wake of this mistake he'd ultimately ended up at the buffet nonetheless, and had taken a hearty repast, a little bit of most things, three glasses of orange juice.
But had it been today?
After the meal, he'd come back to the room, quietly. He'd quickly figured out the keycard system and navigated it free of the awkwardness that his roommates had just displayed. He could be, sometimes, stealthy. He'd come back in and sat down without a word, waited for... them to wake up? Or had they been gone already, to the pool? And Claudeson? Awake, or still asleep? And today, or yesterday?
He tried to resolve the mystery by consulting his body. Sometimes he felt out of touch with it, and things could get away from him; he'd eat because everyone else was and get cramps, or he'd neglect to drink until he realized with a jolt that his lips were chapped. He'd tried to be more mindful of these things, to avoid letting his focus come totally unmoored, but now when he asked himself whether or not he was hungry, the answer he got was a mental shrug of the shoulders, a head shaken in uncertainty or indifference.
Well, he tried not to eat when he wasn't hungry. When he was hungry, he tended to overindulge just a little, and that habit too he was trying to be mindful of and wean himself from. And he had had quite a large breakfast indeed, if in fact that had been today.
As he'd mulled this all, further interactions had taken place. He'd been a bit too disengaged to really catch the nuance. Nobody here, he thought, was happy. That was a shame.
"I've already eaten," he said, "but thanks."
Dante's invitation threw him for an absolute loop, though. Join them for breakfast? Sven had eaten breakfast hours ago.
He had eaten breakfast hours ago, hadn't he?
He knew, deep down somewhere inside, that he had eaten breakfast, but he couldn't say conclusively that it had actually been today. He'd gotten up early and slipped out of the room. Step by slow quiet step, he had made his way through the hotel to the elevators. He hated elevators. He'd pushed the button and waited, and in time one had arrived and disgorged some classmate he didn't feel bad enough for not recognizing, and he'd gotten in with an elderly couple and been whisked away up to the very top of the hotel because he hadn't checked to see whether the elevator had been moving in the proper direction. In the wake of this mistake he'd ultimately ended up at the buffet nonetheless, and had taken a hearty repast, a little bit of most things, three glasses of orange juice.
But had it been today?
After the meal, he'd come back to the room, quietly. He'd quickly figured out the keycard system and navigated it free of the awkwardness that his roommates had just displayed. He could be, sometimes, stealthy. He'd come back in and sat down without a word, waited for... them to wake up? Or had they been gone already, to the pool? And Claudeson? Awake, or still asleep? And today, or yesterday?
He tried to resolve the mystery by consulting his body. Sometimes he felt out of touch with it, and things could get away from him; he'd eat because everyone else was and get cramps, or he'd neglect to drink until he realized with a jolt that his lips were chapped. He'd tried to be more mindful of these things, to avoid letting his focus come totally unmoored, but now when he asked himself whether or not he was hungry, the answer he got was a mental shrug of the shoulders, a head shaken in uncertainty or indifference.
Well, he tried not to eat when he wasn't hungry. When he was hungry, he tended to overindulge just a little, and that habit too he was trying to be mindful of and wean himself from. And he had had quite a large breakfast indeed, if in fact that had been today.
As he'd mulled this all, further interactions had taken place. He'd been a bit too disengaged to really catch the nuance. Nobody here, he thought, was happy. That was a shame.
"I've already eaten," he said, "but thanks."
Oh. Well, uh... that was that, then.
Dante wasn't sure what he'd expected. It probably would have felt kinda weird if after everything either of them had just been like "yeah sure let's go". But he'd asked anyway. Why? Because he was supposed to, maybe. That was a pretty easy explanation. But if he was asking just cause he was supposed to he'd be relieved when they'd both turned him down, right, and he... okay, he was relieved, a little, but that was more because of Aurelien. Lion probably wouldn't have been super pleased if they'd tagged along. It was like night and day with him when they were in the room and out of it, like he turned the volume knob down on his personality whenever the other two were around, and that had to be a bummer for him. And maybe he should be putting his boyfriend over the random dudes they were assigned to spend nights with. He definitely should be.
But still. He didn't extend an olive branch hoping to get shot down. He didn't want to drag Lion down, but if he could bring the other two up a little, that would be nice, wouldn't it? Maybe it was a lost cause, but it was still the right thing to try. Claudeson in particular just seemed really down about something, and Dante knew it wasn't really any of his business, but he still felt bad. Cheering people up was usually something he was pretty good at, but Claude was giving off some pretty heavy "leave me alone" vibes, so maybe he shouldn't push it.
"Hey, uh, that's no problem." He nodded at Sven, slightly puzzled at his response (kid must have been up real early, or else he'd gotten up, gotten food and come back while he'd been at the pool), before turning to Claude. His smile was gentle.
"We'll probably be down there a while. Try and eat somethin', at least. Skipping breakfast'll probably make you feel worse." He scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly. He kinda sounded like his mom, didn't he. Whoops. "Or I can just bring something up for you, if that'd be better."
Dante wasn't sure what he'd expected. It probably would have felt kinda weird if after everything either of them had just been like "yeah sure let's go". But he'd asked anyway. Why? Because he was supposed to, maybe. That was a pretty easy explanation. But if he was asking just cause he was supposed to he'd be relieved when they'd both turned him down, right, and he... okay, he was relieved, a little, but that was more because of Aurelien. Lion probably wouldn't have been super pleased if they'd tagged along. It was like night and day with him when they were in the room and out of it, like he turned the volume knob down on his personality whenever the other two were around, and that had to be a bummer for him. And maybe he should be putting his boyfriend over the random dudes they were assigned to spend nights with. He definitely should be.
But still. He didn't extend an olive branch hoping to get shot down. He didn't want to drag Lion down, but if he could bring the other two up a little, that would be nice, wouldn't it? Maybe it was a lost cause, but it was still the right thing to try. Claudeson in particular just seemed really down about something, and Dante knew it wasn't really any of his business, but he still felt bad. Cheering people up was usually something he was pretty good at, but Claude was giving off some pretty heavy "leave me alone" vibes, so maybe he shouldn't push it.
"Hey, uh, that's no problem." He nodded at Sven, slightly puzzled at his response (kid must have been up real early, or else he'd gotten up, gotten food and come back while he'd been at the pool), before turning to Claude. His smile was gentle.
"We'll probably be down there a while. Try and eat somethin', at least. Skipping breakfast'll probably make you feel worse." He scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly. He kinda sounded like his mom, didn't he. Whoops. "Or I can just bring something up for you, if that'd be better."
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
Aurelien grabbed a towel off of the rail and wrapped it around his hair, rubbing it vigorously to get rid of the last drops of water stubbornly remaining, and steadfastly ignoring all the advice he’d been given about how drying your hair like that would damage it. He was kinda sad to be drying off; hanging out with Dante and messing around in the pool together had been a blast, an experience that had been immediately tainted the moment they’d walked back into their bedroom. His drenched hair and soaked underwear was basically the only thing connecting him to those moments, now.
But someone in the hotel would almost certainly murder him if he carried on dripping water everywhere, so he wiggled out of his boxers, looking through his mess of hair for the clothes he was pretty sure he’d dumped in the bathroom earlier.
He could only barely hear the ‘conversation’ in the other room through the closed door and the damp towel around his head, if you could even call it that, but he didn’t need to hear the exact words to get the gist of what they were saying. Polite thanks, fake smiles, and flimsy excuses as to why they couldn’t go and get fucking breakfast. Whatever they had to say was bullshit, it was all bullshit. He knew the real reason they didn’t wanna join him and Dante. They weren’t fooling anybody.
Aurelien chucked the towel across the room and sighed. God, he hated this. He was having fun on this trip, he really was, up until the point he had to go back to his room, where everything turned completely upside down, and he became someone completely different to how he normally was. He didn’t like getting angry and losing his cool, but he was certain that his hunch was correct, and if it was, then he was totally justified in getting pissed off.
Well, best to get back to the rest of the room, if only so he could immediately head out with Dante again. Aurelien shook his head, spraying droplets of water across the bathroom. After a brief search, he found his clothes lying on a shelf, next to a clean pair of boxers, and he shrugged off the hoody he was wearing to put the new set of clothes on.
It took him a moment to realise that it wasn’t actually one of his hoodies, and then another moment to realise it was one of Dante’s, and that realisation was enough to put a big beaming smile on his face as he opened the door back into the bedroom.
“Aight, sorry about that,” Aurelien said, feigning enthusiasm, injecting some pep into his voice, feeling the frigid chill the second he moved from room to room. “So, what’s the plan then? Oh, and, meant to ask earlier, how’s your morning been?”
But someone in the hotel would almost certainly murder him if he carried on dripping water everywhere, so he wiggled out of his boxers, looking through his mess of hair for the clothes he was pretty sure he’d dumped in the bathroom earlier.
He could only barely hear the ‘conversation’ in the other room through the closed door and the damp towel around his head, if you could even call it that, but he didn’t need to hear the exact words to get the gist of what they were saying. Polite thanks, fake smiles, and flimsy excuses as to why they couldn’t go and get fucking breakfast. Whatever they had to say was bullshit, it was all bullshit. He knew the real reason they didn’t wanna join him and Dante. They weren’t fooling anybody.
Aurelien chucked the towel across the room and sighed. God, he hated this. He was having fun on this trip, he really was, up until the point he had to go back to his room, where everything turned completely upside down, and he became someone completely different to how he normally was. He didn’t like getting angry and losing his cool, but he was certain that his hunch was correct, and if it was, then he was totally justified in getting pissed off.
Well, best to get back to the rest of the room, if only so he could immediately head out with Dante again. Aurelien shook his head, spraying droplets of water across the bathroom. After a brief search, he found his clothes lying on a shelf, next to a clean pair of boxers, and he shrugged off the hoody he was wearing to put the new set of clothes on.
It took him a moment to realise that it wasn’t actually one of his hoodies, and then another moment to realise it was one of Dante’s, and that realisation was enough to put a big beaming smile on his face as he opened the door back into the bedroom.
“Aight, sorry about that,” Aurelien said, feigning enthusiasm, injecting some pep into his voice, feeling the frigid chill the second he moved from room to room. “So, what’s the plan then? Oh, and, meant to ask earlier, how’s your morning been?”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Claudeson allowed himself a moment of genuine thankfulness. No matter his lifestyle choices, it was evident to him that Dante was a kind person. He knew that he shouldn't think like that - people were to be judged based on the quality of their character rather than their perceived successes or failings. His mother always said that you could tell a lot about someone based upon the way they treated people when there was nothing for them to gain from it.
Summoning another weak smile, he gave his head a soft shake. "Thank you. I very much appreciate the offer, but that's okay. Perhaps my appetite will come back for lunch."
Perhaps he would feel better after lunch. Or perhaps he'd feel better when the sinners left the room. When they left the room and walked into traffic or jumped into a pool with rocks tied around their legs or when they decided to go up to the roof of the hotel and throw themselves off or maybe they would go and eat something and choke on their food with their faces turning blue and their limbs flailing while the air released itself fr-
"I am sure it's probably just a headache. I will take some Aspirin and be right in no time, I am sure."
The darkness was working on overdrive now. He needed to get out of the room. Or he needed the boys to get out of the room. One of the two, else he might say something completely unnecessary and out of character that he might regret. Sven was still here, but Sven may as well have been an accessory that came with the room for all that he'd been contributing to the conversation.
Claudeson looked kindly upon them.
"Please don't wait on my account."
Summoning another weak smile, he gave his head a soft shake. "Thank you. I very much appreciate the offer, but that's okay. Perhaps my appetite will come back for lunch."
Perhaps he would feel better after lunch. Or perhaps he'd feel better when the sinners left the room. When they left the room and walked into traffic or jumped into a pool with rocks tied around their legs or when they decided to go up to the roof of the hotel and throw themselves off or maybe they would go and eat something and choke on their food with their faces turning blue and their limbs flailing while the air released itself fr-
"I am sure it's probably just a headache. I will take some Aspirin and be right in no time, I am sure."
The darkness was working on overdrive now. He needed to get out of the room. Or he needed the boys to get out of the room. One of the two, else he might say something completely unnecessary and out of character that he might regret. Sven was still here, but Sven may as well have been an accessory that came with the room for all that he'd been contributing to the conversation.
Claudeson looked kindly upon them.
"Please don't wait on my account."
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Claudeson hadn't said how his morning had been. Maybe he'd implied it. He had a headache and no appetite. That was not a good morning. But it also wasn't a direct answer, and so Sven was left to respond to Aurelien instead. He did not enjoy bombardments of questions, or group discussions in general, really, or at least not when he was expected to participate. He wanted to close his eyes and drift off to sleep or into another world. Instead, he spoke.
"I got stuck on the elevator," he said.
Had that been today? Wait, no, it hadn't happened. That wasn't what had happened at all, or it sort of was, but not how he'd phrased it; his statement implied that he'd become trapped in the elevator, the sort of situation requiring technicians and drama and flare-ups of claustrophobia. And that wasn't what had happened, right? And if he didn't make that clear they would ask him about it, and he would have to backpedal or lie, because it wasn't true.
"I mean, no, I went the wrong way. On the elevator. I went up instead of down."
Sven was catching the aching head from the boy by the window. He had still not answered the question, instead embarking on a non-sequitur of no relevance to any of the others. Worse, when laid out like it actually was, taking the elevator the wrong way and thus wasting a couple minutes with no other repercussions whatsoever, the truth became clear: it was a boring anecdote which offered no insight into him, his morning, his emotional state, or his thoughts.
In general, Sven was a visual person to a large degree. This was true even after the accident, was in fact part of what made his injuries so upsetting, what got his blood boiling when he tried to do simple two-point perspective, but in these moments when his mind spiraled out of control and raced down the log flume ride of disaster, he often entirely lost sight of sight. He didn't see Claudeson, or Dante, or Aurelien, or even his own feet, though he could feel the air on his toes and wondered if he'd taken his socks off after coming back or if the whole thing hadn't been today.
There was a very faint and high-pitched and nearly inaudible crackle of electricity to appliance running through the room, he thought. Was the TV on? Was he catching something in the next room over, or hearing the power to the locking mechanism in the door? What was he even looking at? His eyes were open, and with a deep breath he centered himself and decided he was imagining the hum and that he was looking at the wall, off to the side of Aurlien, which was void of any defining features.
"I mean," he said, "my morning's been fine."
"I got stuck on the elevator," he said.
Had that been today? Wait, no, it hadn't happened. That wasn't what had happened at all, or it sort of was, but not how he'd phrased it; his statement implied that he'd become trapped in the elevator, the sort of situation requiring technicians and drama and flare-ups of claustrophobia. And that wasn't what had happened, right? And if he didn't make that clear they would ask him about it, and he would have to backpedal or lie, because it wasn't true.
"I mean, no, I went the wrong way. On the elevator. I went up instead of down."
Sven was catching the aching head from the boy by the window. He had still not answered the question, instead embarking on a non-sequitur of no relevance to any of the others. Worse, when laid out like it actually was, taking the elevator the wrong way and thus wasting a couple minutes with no other repercussions whatsoever, the truth became clear: it was a boring anecdote which offered no insight into him, his morning, his emotional state, or his thoughts.
In general, Sven was a visual person to a large degree. This was true even after the accident, was in fact part of what made his injuries so upsetting, what got his blood boiling when he tried to do simple two-point perspective, but in these moments when his mind spiraled out of control and raced down the log flume ride of disaster, he often entirely lost sight of sight. He didn't see Claudeson, or Dante, or Aurelien, or even his own feet, though he could feel the air on his toes and wondered if he'd taken his socks off after coming back or if the whole thing hadn't been today.
There was a very faint and high-pitched and nearly inaudible crackle of electricity to appliance running through the room, he thought. Was the TV on? Was he catching something in the next room over, or hearing the power to the locking mechanism in the door? What was he even looking at? His eyes were open, and with a deep breath he centered himself and decided he was imagining the hum and that he was looking at the wall, off to the side of Aurlien, which was void of any defining features.
"I mean," he said, "my morning's been fine."
Dante heard Aurelien exit the bathroom and immediately looked away from the other two to him with a smile because someone was happy he was here. That was nice, at least. Hey, that was his hoodie, wasn't it? Well, they were basically the same size. They could share stuff. He'd let girlfriends wear his hoodies before, it was just kinda one of those things, though it brought heat to his cheeks in a way this time around it never had before. The word "boyfriend" came to his head again because hey it had only been like a week and he was still very not used to it? Plenty of time to get used to it, though. Hopefully, anyway.
What were they doing again? Oh yeah, getting big time cold-shouldered. Aurelien was trying to make small talk, Claudeson just shook him off entirely, and Sven had... well, he had an answer. That was nice, he was trying. Claude was being polite but also definitely wanted him and Lion out of there like ASAP. It would probably be better if he just shut up and went with that, yeah?
"Okay, yeah. If you're sure."
If it had been anyone else in any other situation Dante probably would have asked for Claude's phone number so they could like meet up for lunch, or so he could ask if he did end up wanting Dante to bring something back from breakfast, but this whole situation already felt like it was teetering on the edge of a cliff. Realizing he was still sitting around in his swim trunks and nothing else, he grabbed a t-shirt from his suitcase from where it lay beside his bed. Unpacking kinda seemed like a waste of time to him when they were all gonna be out of here in a week anyway. Swim trunks were basically shorts, so he was golden. He could change those after he ate and let the room depressurize a little.
"Uh, we'll be down there for a little while probably, if you change your minds."
He nodded at Claude and then at Sven, before turning to Aurelien, who... had a glint in his eyes that immediately made him a little nervous.
"You ready to go?"
What were they doing again? Oh yeah, getting big time cold-shouldered. Aurelien was trying to make small talk, Claudeson just shook him off entirely, and Sven had... well, he had an answer. That was nice, he was trying. Claude was being polite but also definitely wanted him and Lion out of there like ASAP. It would probably be better if he just shut up and went with that, yeah?
"Okay, yeah. If you're sure."
If it had been anyone else in any other situation Dante probably would have asked for Claude's phone number so they could like meet up for lunch, or so he could ask if he did end up wanting Dante to bring something back from breakfast, but this whole situation already felt like it was teetering on the edge of a cliff. Realizing he was still sitting around in his swim trunks and nothing else, he grabbed a t-shirt from his suitcase from where it lay beside his bed. Unpacking kinda seemed like a waste of time to him when they were all gonna be out of here in a week anyway. Swim trunks were basically shorts, so he was golden. He could change those after he ate and let the room depressurize a little.
"Uh, we'll be down there for a little while probably, if you change your minds."
He nodded at Claude and then at Sven, before turning to Aurelien, who... had a glint in his eyes that immediately made him a little nervous.
"You ready to go?"
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
“Yeah, just a second, blummen.”
Aurelien could feel the blood rushing to his head as he folded his arms, fingers digging painfully deep into the sleeve of his stolen hoody. The same feeling that hit him whenever he went mountain biking or cliff diving, that overwhelming, blood-pumping, near ecstatic sensation, was washing over him and threatening to swallow him. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t get this way, for Dante’s sake as much as anyone’s, that he just wanted to have a good time and a fun trip, no matter what.
But the voice that was reminding him of that was very quickly getting drowned out by the one yelling at him to fuck that, and fuck Claude too.
Sven was fine. Sven was making an effort at least, in his own unique way. Sven had, at the very very least, answered Aurelien’s question. And that right there was a fucking problem, because when Sven Vee was doing more to try and include you, and to try and turn the temperature in the room down from absolute zero, then something had gone seriously fucking wrong.
As far as Aurelien was concerned, his suspicions had been proven totally correct, here and now, and he’d never been more pissed off to be right before.
He took a deep breath, realising how badly he was shaking, and for a moment, he wondered whether he should just bottle his anger for a second longer and storm out and yell in the confines of the elevator. But then he remembered how Claude had just completely blanked him when he’d tried to offer him the olive branch, and he opened his mouth and let his words tumble out.
“What the fuck is your deal, dude? What’s your problem? You’ve done nothing but be shitty to us this entire time, what the fuck is up?”
Aurelien could feel the blood rushing to his head as he folded his arms, fingers digging painfully deep into the sleeve of his stolen hoody. The same feeling that hit him whenever he went mountain biking or cliff diving, that overwhelming, blood-pumping, near ecstatic sensation, was washing over him and threatening to swallow him. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t get this way, for Dante’s sake as much as anyone’s, that he just wanted to have a good time and a fun trip, no matter what.
But the voice that was reminding him of that was very quickly getting drowned out by the one yelling at him to fuck that, and fuck Claude too.
Sven was fine. Sven was making an effort at least, in his own unique way. Sven had, at the very very least, answered Aurelien’s question. And that right there was a fucking problem, because when Sven Vee was doing more to try and include you, and to try and turn the temperature in the room down from absolute zero, then something had gone seriously fucking wrong.
As far as Aurelien was concerned, his suspicions had been proven totally correct, here and now, and he’d never been more pissed off to be right before.
He took a deep breath, realising how badly he was shaking, and for a moment, he wondered whether he should just bottle his anger for a second longer and storm out and yell in the confines of the elevator. But then he remembered how Claude had just completely blanked him when he’d tried to offer him the olive branch, and he opened his mouth and let his words tumble out.
“What the fuck is your deal, dude? What’s your problem? You’ve done nothing but be shitty to us this entire time, what the fuck is up?”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Claudeson wasn't prepared for the verbal assault, and as such he visibly recoiled as the venom within Aurelian's words hit him. Each one a different area of his brain but each one telling him the one unassailable truth that he'd been grappling with for the last several days.
You're a fake.
Your belief in the Lord is a fraud.
Nobody thinks you're good enough.
There isn't anyone who would miss you when you're gone.
You're a waste.
All of it, every single word that went unsaid was a word that Claudeson took to heart. His face went slack, his jaw open in disbelief at Aurelian's outburst. He wasn't sure what to do, what to say. This whole mess had been exactly that - a mess, and in trying to keep his feelings and his darkness inward, he had done something to offend his roommates. It was the exact situation that he was afraid of, the exact thing that Claudeson had been trying to avoid. He didn't approve of their relationship and it made him uncomfortable, but he had never intended to make them uncomfortable back. That he had obviously and unknowingly failed in a spectacular fashion felt like a dagger plunged into his chest.
"I- I didn't mean," he stammered over his words, his lip quivering slightly as he tried to collect himself. Every breath that he took, the voice inside of his head got louder and louder.
They know you're a monster.
No one truly likes you.
Your parents believe that you're a failure as a son.
The election was lost because you're pitiful.
God doesn't have time for someone like you.
Looking from Aurelian to Dante, his eyes became glassy and he blinked to try and control himself.
A tear rolled down his cheek.
"I'm s-so sorry. I n-never m-m-m," he couldn't get the rest out. Claudeson choked on the last word, and put his head down between his hands as sobs wracked his body.
He was lost in a hurricane of emotion, and he had no paddle with which to guide his canoe of serenity. Unsurprisingly, his canoe capsized and he lost himself to the darkness, the uncomfortable sobbing the only thing that he could think to do as he sunk into the pit of despair.
Claudeson had hurt them, and he deserved to suffer.
You're a fake.
Your belief in the Lord is a fraud.
Nobody thinks you're good enough.
There isn't anyone who would miss you when you're gone.
You're a waste.
All of it, every single word that went unsaid was a word that Claudeson took to heart. His face went slack, his jaw open in disbelief at Aurelian's outburst. He wasn't sure what to do, what to say. This whole mess had been exactly that - a mess, and in trying to keep his feelings and his darkness inward, he had done something to offend his roommates. It was the exact situation that he was afraid of, the exact thing that Claudeson had been trying to avoid. He didn't approve of their relationship and it made him uncomfortable, but he had never intended to make them uncomfortable back. That he had obviously and unknowingly failed in a spectacular fashion felt like a dagger plunged into his chest.
"I- I didn't mean," he stammered over his words, his lip quivering slightly as he tried to collect himself. Every breath that he took, the voice inside of his head got louder and louder.
They know you're a monster.
No one truly likes you.
Your parents believe that you're a failure as a son.
The election was lost because you're pitiful.
God doesn't have time for someone like you.
Looking from Aurelian to Dante, his eyes became glassy and he blinked to try and control himself.
A tear rolled down his cheek.
"I'm s-so sorry. I n-never m-m-m," he couldn't get the rest out. Claudeson choked on the last word, and put his head down between his hands as sobs wracked his body.
He was lost in a hurricane of emotion, and he had no paddle with which to guide his canoe of serenity. Unsurprisingly, his canoe capsized and he lost himself to the darkness, the uncomfortable sobbing the only thing that he could think to do as he sunk into the pit of despair.
Claudeson had hurt them, and he deserved to suffer.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
The buzzing and humming rose and rolled around Sven. It was nice, in a way. He stepped to the side of himself and took a look around the room with both eyes wide. He looked at Dante, in t-shirt and swim trunks. A long time ago, Sven had used to go swimming sometimes, he thought, and he had always hated swim trunks. They were made of this weird light fabric that felt papery and too thin, made him feel exposed and self-conscious, and then inside was this layer of mesh to keep everything in place, but the mesh would stick to his flesh and the little circular holes would prickle. This was all a very intellectual process of thought. Dante must've been uncomfortable, but there was no value attached to that judgement. It just was.
Aurelien also looked uncomfortable. He was picking at the sleeves of his hoodie and shaking. Maybe it was cold in here; Sven had been told once that monks with a certain degree of training and mental focus could learn to control their body temperatures in actual physical fact, not merely to ignore or tolerate the chill of drafty mountain temples. Sven had not learned to do so himself. Maybe someday. Sven was probably cold too, then, if it was hitting Aurelien so hard, or else the boy hadn't dried off properly. He'd been damp. The water would've seeped into the cotton garment, functioning like sweat, leaching the heat from his body and using that energy to fuel its chemical reactions with the air, evaporating into vapor. One of those things. The options seemed equally plausible and irrelevant.
Claudeson was certainly uncomfortable. His head was in his hands. He was crying. It took a moment for Sven to figure that one out, because memory was far away right now, hanging out a few feet off to the side. Claudeson had a headache. Right. He'd said as much. Maybe he'd understated the situation. This looked like a migraine. Sven didn't think he'd ever had a migraine himself but also didn't know how he'd know if he had. People had described it, but what could words do to convey a feeling? How would he know if he'd experienced such a thing? How would he know what it was meant to be, so he could experience it properly?
And then, there on the bed, Sven looked uncomfortable too. His eyes were still fixed on the wall over by Aurelien, aside from a brief flicker around at all the others, just one, just once, and he didn't seem to notice that he'd stepped outside himself. His hand drifted to the breast pocket of his shirt, touched it, and then drifted back down. Sven struggled to figure out what Sven was looking for there. Wait, no: sunglasses. That was where they'd been supposed to be, but here to the side he could see they weren't. It was a little detail he'd been sure of earlier. That was why Sven was uncomfortable, maybe, it was too bright or he was feeling self-conscious about his eye. That was what the sunglasses were for. Sven wanted to lay a hand on Sven's shoulder, tell him it was okay, the people in this room were nice and kind and would not give him any grief about his eye, and that it was weird to wear sunglasses inside besides, but he couldn't bridge the gap and didn't think he'd be audible anyways. So that was out. Only one way to help, then: had to find them. This was a slightly warm thought because it carried some emotional resonance which none of these other facts around him were offering right now. That was a good sign, a promising lead that he was on the right path.
Sven nodded and left himself sitting still and silent on the bed, staring at the wall, as he turned and wandered off back through space and time to figure out just where the glasses case had gone.
Aurelien also looked uncomfortable. He was picking at the sleeves of his hoodie and shaking. Maybe it was cold in here; Sven had been told once that monks with a certain degree of training and mental focus could learn to control their body temperatures in actual physical fact, not merely to ignore or tolerate the chill of drafty mountain temples. Sven had not learned to do so himself. Maybe someday. Sven was probably cold too, then, if it was hitting Aurelien so hard, or else the boy hadn't dried off properly. He'd been damp. The water would've seeped into the cotton garment, functioning like sweat, leaching the heat from his body and using that energy to fuel its chemical reactions with the air, evaporating into vapor. One of those things. The options seemed equally plausible and irrelevant.
Claudeson was certainly uncomfortable. His head was in his hands. He was crying. It took a moment for Sven to figure that one out, because memory was far away right now, hanging out a few feet off to the side. Claudeson had a headache. Right. He'd said as much. Maybe he'd understated the situation. This looked like a migraine. Sven didn't think he'd ever had a migraine himself but also didn't know how he'd know if he had. People had described it, but what could words do to convey a feeling? How would he know if he'd experienced such a thing? How would he know what it was meant to be, so he could experience it properly?
And then, there on the bed, Sven looked uncomfortable too. His eyes were still fixed on the wall over by Aurelien, aside from a brief flicker around at all the others, just one, just once, and he didn't seem to notice that he'd stepped outside himself. His hand drifted to the breast pocket of his shirt, touched it, and then drifted back down. Sven struggled to figure out what Sven was looking for there. Wait, no: sunglasses. That was where they'd been supposed to be, but here to the side he could see they weren't. It was a little detail he'd been sure of earlier. That was why Sven was uncomfortable, maybe, it was too bright or he was feeling self-conscious about his eye. That was what the sunglasses were for. Sven wanted to lay a hand on Sven's shoulder, tell him it was okay, the people in this room were nice and kind and would not give him any grief about his eye, and that it was weird to wear sunglasses inside besides, but he couldn't bridge the gap and didn't think he'd be audible anyways. So that was out. Only one way to help, then: had to find them. This was a slightly warm thought because it carried some emotional resonance which none of these other facts around him were offering right now. That was a good sign, a promising lead that he was on the right path.
Sven nodded and left himself sitting still and silent on the bed, staring at the wall, as he turned and wandered off back through space and time to figure out just where the glasses case had gone.
So this had gotten real bad real quick.
Aurelien's outburst wasn't totally coming from out of nowhere, he'd been kind of a coiled spring since pretty much day one, but Dante had just... hoped he'd hold it together. It wasn't so bad. They had fun together, whenever they were out, and when they were in the room it was just. Awkward. But that was okay. He'd been in bunks at summer camp that were awkward the couple of times his parents scrounged up the money for him to go. Sleeping in a room with people you didn't know was awkward sometimes. Lion'd had his ideas of what was wrong from the beginning, and Dante had swept those aside. Claude had always been a nice guy. If he wasn't being one right now, that meant something was wrong.
So when Aurelien spoke Dante reached out and touched his arm. His voice was quiet, he didn't want to set him off worse. "Aurelien, c'mon, we..."
But then Claude was crying, straight up, actually crying, and that tack was forgotten for now. He had to do something. Whether or not he could fix this anymore was a good question, but he had to try. Because he loved Aurelien with all his heart, and Aurelien started this, and that made it his responsibility. For not having headed this off sooner, for not having talked to him about it before he blew up. For the fact that he probably wasn't gonna apologize cause he was sure he was right.
Dante loved Aurelien very much, but if he was gonna list things he knew about him, "stubborn" was gonna rank pretty high.
"Okay. Lion, meet me downstairs. Yeah?" His voice was still quiet, but a little firmer, because he really didn't wanna argue about this. He squeezed his arm a little. It would be okay. They could talk in a little bit. He let go of Aurelien's arm and turned his full attention to Claude, sitting back down on the bed. He thought about going to sit by Claude's side for a second, but that would be too close, he thought. He probably needed space. Hopefully this was a respectful distance.
"Claude, hey," he said kindly, "it's okay. It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong, seriously. You're just having a hard time right now. Right? I'm sorry, I, uh, shouldn't have pushed things." He couldn't really apologize on Lion's behalf, that would sound pretty hollow, but he still kinda felt like he had to apologize for something.
"If you'd rather I go, say the word, but I wanna help if there's anything I can do." He paused for a second. His scriptural knowledge was pretty lacking, all things considered, but it was what the two of them had in common, so it felt like the right way to go. He dug something up.
"Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. Yeah?"
Aurelien's outburst wasn't totally coming from out of nowhere, he'd been kind of a coiled spring since pretty much day one, but Dante had just... hoped he'd hold it together. It wasn't so bad. They had fun together, whenever they were out, and when they were in the room it was just. Awkward. But that was okay. He'd been in bunks at summer camp that were awkward the couple of times his parents scrounged up the money for him to go. Sleeping in a room with people you didn't know was awkward sometimes. Lion'd had his ideas of what was wrong from the beginning, and Dante had swept those aside. Claude had always been a nice guy. If he wasn't being one right now, that meant something was wrong.
So when Aurelien spoke Dante reached out and touched his arm. His voice was quiet, he didn't want to set him off worse. "Aurelien, c'mon, we..."
But then Claude was crying, straight up, actually crying, and that tack was forgotten for now. He had to do something. Whether or not he could fix this anymore was a good question, but he had to try. Because he loved Aurelien with all his heart, and Aurelien started this, and that made it his responsibility. For not having headed this off sooner, for not having talked to him about it before he blew up. For the fact that he probably wasn't gonna apologize cause he was sure he was right.
Dante loved Aurelien very much, but if he was gonna list things he knew about him, "stubborn" was gonna rank pretty high.
"Okay. Lion, meet me downstairs. Yeah?" His voice was still quiet, but a little firmer, because he really didn't wanna argue about this. He squeezed his arm a little. It would be okay. They could talk in a little bit. He let go of Aurelien's arm and turned his full attention to Claude, sitting back down on the bed. He thought about going to sit by Claude's side for a second, but that would be too close, he thought. He probably needed space. Hopefully this was a respectful distance.
"Claude, hey," he said kindly, "it's okay. It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong, seriously. You're just having a hard time right now. Right? I'm sorry, I, uh, shouldn't have pushed things." He couldn't really apologize on Lion's behalf, that would sound pretty hollow, but he still kinda felt like he had to apologize for something.
"If you'd rather I go, say the word, but I wanna help if there's anything I can do." He paused for a second. His scriptural knowledge was pretty lacking, all things considered, but it was what the two of them had in common, so it felt like the right way to go. He dug something up.
"Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. Yeah?"
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."