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Post by Deleted on Oct 29, 2012 15:08:26 GMT -7
where the lost boys meet , [atrb=style, background: #373737; border: dashed #ffffff 4px; border-radius:50px 0px 50px 0px;] [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border: dashed #ffffff 3px; width: 400px; height: 500px; float: left; padding-left: 10px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 25px; padding-top: 25px;]
Alan didn’t have the vocabulary. There weren’t enough words in the world to properly explain the past few weeks. It was something that couldn’t even have been improved were he able to speak. How could anyone, deaf or otherwise, properly say all the things that had happened, all the feelings that he’d felt, all the thoughts that had run in endless circles through his mind? It was good that he had but one person that he would ever want to share this with, and that person already knew. He didn’t need to tell Shale about the whirlwind he was living. Shale was living it too. That was the beauty of a relationship, something Alan had never known before. Be it friendship or something romantic, a relationship was mutual. There was but one other person in the world that knew exactly what happened on the inside, one person who shared the experiences. Having something like that with Shale seemed too good to be true. Too good for words. And so he was almost glad not to have to say them. Something as simple as language could never do their story justice.
It had all be so sublime. It didn’t seem possible that things could be working out like this. That neither had given up on the other despite how long this had taken and how difficult it had been. That Friday had made it official. That this was actually happening.
So it was hard to take it when nothing happened all of Saturday. Alan had spent most of the morning out there waiting, until Natalie had found him out there and told him to help her clean the house a bit for when his older siblings came over on Sunday. Normally he would have argued with her on principle. Mark, Eric, and Carla all knew what the house looked like. They had grown up here, too. They knew that everything was a mess all the time, that the ashtrays were always overflowing and that the stack of glass bottles beside their mother’s usual chair was ever-present. They knew that the four youngest were always making things worse and they knew that Natalie did all the work by herself so it was no surprise that everything looked the way it did. They knew these things as fact, and so they weren’t fooling anyone by spending a day vacuuming the carpet in the living room and scrubbing the bathroom and mopping up the kitchen. Regardless of the cleanliness of the place, the three of them would leave again as soon as they’d said hello to everyone, as soon as the cigarettes were distributed and they gave Natalie whatever money they had set aside for the family. Natalie would ask them where they were living, and they would collectively answer in the vaguest of ways. Eric was the only one who regularly bothered themselves with anyone but Natalie. Once he had shared a few moments’ conversation with Stephanie about school and about her friends, once he had commented about how quickly Riley was growing, once he had given Vanessa her cuddle fix and played with Kyle a bit, they would be gone again. They didn’t want to spend much time in that house, and Alan didn’t blame them. He didn’t know where they lived now, but he would have gladly traded it for here. Maybe there didn’t get so dirty so quickly.
Yes, ordinarily he would have argued with Natalie, claiming to have better things to do than fool his siblings, but today he didn’t. Shale wasn’t coming outside, so there was no reason no to do it. He finished his cigarette and flicked it over the balcony railing, completely blowing Natalie off when she told him he shouldn’t smoke anymore. At least he wasn’t getting arrested anymore, right? This was a much healthier way to deal with things.
And so he spent all of Saturday thinking of Shale as he vacuumed layers of dirt from the carpets, wondering why he had never shown up, wondering if he was up there waiting for him now. Maybe he should have left a note. But Natalie kept him too busy to really think about it, much less go back upstairs to check for himself.
Sunday ran very much as expected. His siblings showed up early that morning, before any of his younger siblings had woken him up like they did every morning. He got up when he woke up naturally, and by then, Carla, Natalie, and Mark were sitting together on the couch with Eric and the four younger kids on the floor in front of them. They waved when they noticed him on the stairs, but he didn’t pay much attention. His mother had to be around somewhere, probably still in bed, since she wasn’t down here smoking in her chair. He wanted to get breakfast and then go back up to the balcony, because maybe Shale would show up that day. He could only hope.
In the end, he skipped breakfast due to there being nothing appetizing in the entire house. But then his siblings caught him and made him socialize, even though socialization was next to impossible when none of his siblings spoke sign language and only one knew the alphabet. Yet they seemed to care exponentially more about him now than normal. They asked about school and about what he did with his time and he spent the time just sitting there staring at them, wondering how on earth they expected him to respond. It wasn’t like with Shale, when he could write notes for hours and be happy. There wasn’t any paper around, anyway, even if he had wanted to talk to them about himself or at all. He just wanted to leave. It took them a while, but in the end they caught on to how difficult this was and how reluctant he was to make it less difficult and eventually they gave up and just let him go. They were about to leave anyway, apparently, just waiting for Eric to get sick of the little kids, which was never long, considering they were the way they were. And so Alan finally went back upstairs, hoping desperately that Shale would be out there.
He reached his bedroom and the first thing he noticed was the sign on his window, bidding him come outside. His stomach clenched; how long had it been there, how long had Shale been waiting in vain for him to show up? Eventually Alan convinced himself that it was irrelevant, because it meant Shale was out there.
Pushing the window up seemed to take forever. Climbing out of it seemed to take forever. Seeing Shale standing there--in a suit, no less--took less than a second. God, he looked good.
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[/td][/tr][/table] Notes: aaaaaa bb Tag: Shale~! Words: 1135 [/center] |
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Post by shale on Nov 1, 2012 12:15:48 GMT -7
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://colourlovers.com.s3.amazonaws.com/images/patterns/0/635.png)][atrb=style, padding: 10px;] I'm building a place, something amazing- - - - - Just for the sake of saving us from under the sun, two plastic hearts with nowhere to run. We're rolling the dice on whatever's left cause God only knows that we could use the rest... The last time Shale had seen his family, god, when was that? Not even for Thanksgiving, his mother and sisters had gone out of town to a fancy dinner with relatives they barely knew so they didn't have to see Shale. It was probably sometime in the early summer, that he'd seen his entire family. Mostly he saw his entire family once in a few months, even less. His mother took him out to dinner once every two months, of course, out of pure polite courtesy. But even those were getting less and less. Shale was scared of the day that he would stop seeing his family, the day when the next time he saw Grey, she would be tall and be wearing make up and dating some good for nothing boy. Shale felt a surge of protectiveness over that. God, the last time he saw Grey was before her birthday, she was nine now. She was already getting to old for comfort. And whenever Shale went home, Eliza and Trystian and Arya were there and they made life a living hell, Shale could barely stand it. He only went there for Grey, who would cling to his leg and cry and cry and cry when Shale had to leave. He was sure his mother did not like that. The poor girl had few friends, most of them being imaginary. She needed something stable in her life, and Shale wished he could be that.
Missing Grey was the only thing Shale missed about living with his mother. The lower class of Caroline was honestly better than the upper, where every move you made was watched carefully and harshly criticized. The little Shale had lived there in his childhood had not been good memories. Of course, he'd spent the other parts of his life in boarding schools around the country. Shale never knew much about why he was moved from those so often either, it seemed his parents were determined to have him create no lasting connections. Shale learned to make friends fast, and lose them faster. He was not easily emotionally invested into anyone, so someone like Alan was a surprise. Of course, the only reason Shale's mother had moved him from school to school was because she was not satisfied with any of their curriculum’s and despite Shale's good grades, he was never doing well enough. This was impart because of his dyslexia, but Shale felt even if his mother had known about that, she would not be sympathetic. So, living here with his father created more opportunity’s than Shale could have imagined, and one of those possibilities was Alan.
Shale sighed, flicking the remains of his cigarette over the edge of the balcony, watching the leaves blowing in the wind. Today, he was sure, was the last warm day of the year. Even now, in the midst of October, there was a bite to the air, a promise of an early winter. Which was why today was the only day Shale's plan would work, in this certain circumstance and in this certain day. It had only been about half an hour since shale had come out here, but he was getting impatient. What if Alan wasn't home, what if he was busy today, and worse, what if he didn't even want to see Shale? And there he was again, off worrying about things that didn't make sense. Shale pulled out another cigarette, wishing he had another hand to pass it too, another person to share it with. Instead though, he lit it with a flick of a match, puffing the smoke into the light wind. Maybe Alan didn't care about Shale, maybe what he'd written yesterday, the words that were now hidden in the back of Shale's music book for safe keeping, were all a lie. It wouldn't be the first time Shale had been lied too. But it didn't make sense. Alan was good and honest and nice. Shale wouldn't let these odd negative thoughts take over. But he couldn't help it as the red in his cigarette snuck closer to his fingers and the minutes turned quicker towards the turn of the hour.
It wouldn't be hard to wait out here all day, until the sky turned from blue to purple and pink and then to indigo and then finally a velvety black. Shale could stay out here all his life, with the wind in his ears and the birds chirping in his ears. He felt stuck in time, forever waiting. Going inside would be like conceiting defeat, but it would also be accepting that...well, shale didn't know. Something bad. Shale would be patient, for once in his life. And as Shale sucked the life from his cigarette, the end glowing a harsh red, he heard a sound behind him. Something he'd become familiar with and for the first time made his heart pound quicker, though this would soon become normal. A thump of window hitting the frame, a clamber of a body out of a small entryway, and Shale turned. Alan was standing there, still straightening up from having climbed from the window. Shale was hit with a sudden wave of missing him, of missing a boy that was right there. It made no sense, Shale hadn't felt anything like that before. Missing someone who was right in front of him. Shale didn't realize this was the weight of how he'd felt spending the day inside yesterday with not even a glimpse of Alan, and the worry flying off his chest. He felt stupid for those thoughts. Again, the thoughts that had been circling his brain came back to him, what have you done to me Alan.
Without much realization, Shale was smiling at Alan. He raised a hand, signing a hello, something that had come custom to him. Shale always felt dorky doing it, it was more like a salute than anything, but he could see the light in Alan's eyes anytime Shale signed. It was the closest he'd gotten to seeing Alan smile. Shale crossed the few feet between them on the balcony, like he had the other day. He wasn't exactly hesitant when he slipping his hands around Alan's waist and kissed him lightly, just once, another signing of 'hello'. God just one day and he'd missed Alan and he was acting like a lovestruck teenager. It was so stupid. Shale had plans and he was acting stupid and so he slipped away from Alan, needing his hands if he wanted to talk to him. A strange part of Shale wanted to apologize for not being here yesterday, not talking to Alan. But as far as he knew, Alan hadn't even noticed, Alan hadn't waited for him. Shale didn't want to seem desperate. Shale picked up his hands, signing carefully to Alan. “Would you like to go on a date with me today?”
WORDS | 1151 | TAGS | alan<3 | NOTES | allllannnnnnnnn
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Post by Deleted on Nov 3, 2012 13:18:12 GMT -7
where the lost boys meet , [atrb=style, background: #373737; border: dashed #ffffff 4px; border-radius:50px 0px 50px 0px;] [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border: dashed #ffffff 3px; width: 400px; height: 500px; float: left; padding-left: 10px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 25px; padding-top: 25px;]
When he was younger, Alan rather enjoyed his siblings. Even if it was still mostly Natalie doing all of the nurturing, they each gave him more attention than his mother did, and their impact couldn’t be completely disregarded. Maybe none of them were the best at being a family, but each of them had some contribution that helped make Alan’s childhood better. Mark was the tallest, and so he always helped him reach books off of shelves, to get cereal boxes out of cupboards, to flick on light switches and turn door knobs, and he was almost alway there to do it. Eric brought home boys for him to admire from a distance, and was open enough to let him know from an early age that it was okay to be who he was. Even Carla, who was usually too occupied with her friends and boyfriends to bother with any of them, would keep him company when the older ones were off arguing with their mother about one thing or another, be it money or the state of the house or that some social worker was trying to get custody of them again and she would have to make a change if she meant to keep them. It had taken until Alan was much older to understand the degree of severity in those arguments, and now that he could comprehend how heated they must have been, he appreciated not having to be in the room when they were happening. His siblings had been a pillar of stability in his life, something he wouldn’t have had any other way. It meant a lot to him, though he didn’t fully realize how much he depended on all of them, not just Natalie, until Natalie was the only one left.
It was a few days before Stephanie was born that Eric finally turned eighteen. Since any of the family could remember, the boys’ plan had been to leave as soon as they were both old enough to rent a place together. Carla wasn’t supposed to go. She was only sixteen, too young, too female, too closely related to them for the boys to want her around all the time. In the end, though, they took her because she threatened to kill herself if she had to live with their mother any more. She wasn’t ever one to exaggerate, and so in the end, that was all it took. Better to have an annoying sister with them than a dead sister left behind. And so for four days, there were three in the house. Ten years later, they were up to seven.
Everything that Alan’s siblings had been to him, none of that seemed to have any impact on him, because he never did any of that for the younger ones. He ignored them, pushed them away, told them no. He avoided them like there was something wrong with them, and didn’t bother to let them know that it was him, not them. He blamed the abandonment. If his brothers and sister hadn’t disappeared on him, if they hadn’t taken all the things that made his childhood less shitty away from him, if they had just stayed, just sucked it up and lived with all the problems so that he could be happier, maybe he could have done the same for Steph when she was born, and with Riley, Vanessa, Kyle. But now, no. He was too hurt, whether he realized it or not. If he couldn’t have someone constantly helping him, then they couldn’t either. He couldn’t just be the good person all the time. In every way that Natalie was selfless, Alan was incredibly selfish. He was never going to be the favorite sibling, but it didn’t matter because he wasn’t anyone’s favorite anything. He was used to that by now.
He seemed, though, to be Shale’s favorite, at least. The way that he lit up when he saw Alan, the way he looked at him like he was made of gold, like he had been desperate for the sight his entire life... Alan didn’t know if there was any way to get used to being looked at like that, but he also didn’t know that he wanted to stop feeling the butterflies. If the look caught him off guard every time, if he never learned to see it as something ordinary, well, that wouldn’t be so terrible. For example, the smile on Shale’s face and the way it illuminated the entire world...if that wasn’t always something extraordinary, then Alan didn’t deserve to have it anymore. However, it didn’t seem very likely that he was going to ever see that as something less than it was.
And the way that Shale pursued him, moved to be as close to him as possible, was touching him, kissing him, there would be no getting used to that either. Too much about Shale was unpredictable, it was impossible to learn what to expect. And that was really no problem at all.
Seeing Shale signing to him, that made all the difference. There was no way, no possible way to explain how much he adored having someone who would sign with him. He had never been fond of sign language, though; he had always felt that the sheer necessity of it was just one more reason to despise everything about his own life. Yet there was something so comforting in the way Shale’s hands moved, already so fluid despite any lack of experience. There was something to be said of Shale’s determination; it proved that his bad grades weren’t for lack of trying. Shale learned quickly and well, apparently picking up sign language with relative ease. It was endlessly flattering, truth be told, in those moments when Alan remembered that Shale was doing this for him, only for him. That he was the solitary reason for the boy to learn the signs he memorized so easily. For a long time, Alan had hated signing, because he had to, because he was deaf. He wanted the choice, and for ages he had chosen to write everything. He filled countless notebooks, scribbling small talk in the lines, stating answers to teachers’ questions, writing out points of debate for required government classes. Anything he had to express to another person had been contained inside those spiral bound sheets, and had be perhaps been more sentimental, he may have kept them and looked through them later in life, trying to remember the context. As it was, however, he had no interest in making those little talks into memories, preferring to just throw away a notebook once it was full. He didn’t need those meaningless words. They were nothing to him. They only existed because they were the lesser of the evils, the other being sign language, and that he refused on principle. Shale, though, always had to be different. His problems reading voided the possibility of the notebooks, so Alan had tried other things. Writing larger, creating a code based around music notes, reading lips, anything to avoid going back to signing. All of those things were so one-sided, though, and so time-consuming. And so there was really only one alternative. Paper memory was disregarded, and instead he would hold on to their silent, intangible conversations in his head because he couldn’t bear to forget. Shale was the exception again.
It was very much enough just to see Shale signing to him, looking so utterly breathtaking even disregarding the suit that flattered him so well. It was so hard, in that moment, to comprehend the fact that he had once told himself that Shale was insignificant, just a pretty boy in his French class, nothing to be overly concerned with. Here, now, he felt almost as though nothing would ever be as important as this, as important as Shale standing before him and asking a question with his hands.
The sign for ‘date’ had always reminded Alan of being a child. On one of the occasions that his siblings had the time and the willingness to play with him, they’d introduced him to shadow puppets. It seemed practical then, really. It didn’t cost anything, it didn’t take a verbal explanation, and he could entertain himself with it in the future. Alan caught on quickly after seeing their demonstrations, making his hands seem to become ducks, rabbits, dogs, anything that he could imagine the same ten fingers to be. He discovered the way that distance from a light source affected size, the way that moving his hands in front and behind of each other could make them look like one was inside of the other, or that they were connected, all sorts of interesting things. He created stories with them, never performing them for anyone but himself and being perfectly content thusly. Shadow stories were simple and childish and could only be narrated in his mind, so any performance would have been meaningless and unappreciated. Still, even to this day, on the balcony with Shale, the sign ‘date’ made him think of one-eared llamas kissing. And that was terribly amusing, but didn’t quite have the same internal response as the fact that Shale wanted to go out with him. Today.
Assess the situation: gorgeous boyfriend, smelling strongly of cigarette smoke and something else, something deliciously unplaceable and very distinctly Shale, dressed in a suit with the tie slightly loosened, greeting him with a kiss and hands on his waist, pulling away from him only to sign that he wanted to take him on a date.
It was not a hard decision.
Of course he wanted to go out. There was no way not to.
Do I have to get dressed up like that? |
[/b][/font] Mostly a joke. Mostly. Hopefully suits were not required for wherever they would be going, though. Alan wasn’t sure he had anything that formal. [/div] [/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table] Notes: ;D Tag: Shale~! Words: 1664 [/center] |
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Post by Deleted on Nov 6, 2012 20:21:06 GMT -7
where the lost boys meet , [atrb=style, background: #373737; border: dashed #ffffff 4px; border-radius:50px 0px 50px 0px;] [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border: dashed #ffffff 3px; width: 400px; height: 500px; float: left; padding-left: 10px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 25px; padding-top: 25px;]
It was less than two hours into Alan’s life when he was diagnosed as being at least partially deaf. Arguably, things could have been a lot worse.
After their mother’s attack, the most overwhelming thought on anyone’s mind was the shock that he hadn’t died prenatally as a result. It wouldn’t have been the first time their mother lost a child, it wouldn’t be the last, and it didn’t seem likely that it would be the most dramatic way, either, the way she was going. But as his mother could feel him kick every so often for the entire length of the pregnancy, it was obvious that he had, in fact, survived the incident. Damage was impossible to know; it all had to wait until he was born. Mark, Eric, Natalie, and Carla spent the months with bated breath. As if it wasn’t bad enough that their mother was hurt, they were afraid something would be wrong with the baby. Having had to practically raise themselves, they knew by now that a new baby would be ignored, especially now that she had the leftover pains and problems from the attack. She wasn’t a nurturer when she was healthy, and she was guaranteed to be even worse when she was hurt. And they realized, young as they were, that they would have to be the responsible ones, that they would have to change this baby, feed it, play with and teach it, everything. They would take care of him or her because it came from circumstances so similar to than their own, and to leave it would be just as bad as killing it, which wasn’t fair because it didn’t ask to be born to such a mother any more than any of them did. The fact of the matter was, though, was that it would be so much easier to raise a healthy, functional child than one with problem after problem.
Alan and his family spent his entire life living with his disability, and yet no one was really adjusted to it. Not Alan, not his sign language illiterate siblings, no one.
Post-delivery, the tests for damage could finally be performed. They looked for anything they could, but Alan seemed perfectly normal, save that he didn’t react to any of the noise they made, regardless of if he was asleep or awake, silent or sounding. That was enough. From there, only time would tell if anything was wrong with him.
For his siblings, though, that stuff hardly mattered. He wasn’t terribly crippled or deformed, and that simplified everything exponentially. The four of them were far more interested by the way he acted: how he spent so little time crying, seeming remarkably healthy for someone with his circumstances, how he was so easy to care for when they worked together. During his first years, their mother wasn’t nearly as withdrawn as she became with the next children to be born, and they knew that it was she that kept him alive, but they also knew that it was them that prevented his life from being the nightmare it could have been.
They were interested, too, in the way he looked. It was always impossible to guess what their mother’s children would look like, and most of the time they didn’t get the chance to guess. She would have them aborted, or she would lose it naturally, or, in one case, the father would interfere and take the baby before any of them could get to see it. So far, Alan had the darkest skin of all of them, but his eyes weren’t as dark as Carla’s or Eric’s. He looked least like their mother, which they all agreed was for the best. No one really wanted to resemble her.
Alan wasn’t a needy baby by any means, but it was still difficult to work around the deafness, which, by two or three, was evidently very complete. They tried, but they were children themselves and got frustrated. It was natural, it was bound to happen from the moment they swore to raise him. Only Natalie seemed to believe the promise was binding, only Natalie did anything to try to cross the communication barrier for him, and even then she just learned the alphabet. And as the years passed, Natalie was the only one who found it necessary to stick around for him and for the children that were bound to be born in the future.
From then, all he really ever saw of them was when they checked in to assure everyone that they were alright, that they were still together and still having a better life than those still stuck in the house their mother lived in. They brought cigarettes and money and occasionally other small gifts, but mostly they avoided the place.
Promises were broken all the time. It wasn’t really a shock with a family as screwed up as his was.
Needless to say, Alan’s experience in no way prepared him for consistency. His relationship with Shale, of course, was still young, but it was the promises and the following through of the promises that was the thing. Shale was signing to him like it was the easiest thing in the world, fulfilling the promise to learn to speak to him. Shale was asking him out, taking him on a date, just like he said he would. They were doing things. The promises were being kept. He wasn’t used to it. He was so adjusted to being let down that disappointment wasn’t even relevant anymore. It all felt a little overwhelming. He didn’t know how to handle all the emotions at once, didn’t know how to be flattered and attracted and interested and hopeful all at once. Alan was better at coping with negative emotion. That was how his brain worked. He was fueled by pessimism and cynicism and anger. All the positive, that was an alternative energy, something he hadn’t learned to process. And when it flooded him like this, when Shale was following through with promises and being dressed so well and signing so impressively and kissing him so innocently before he disappeared back into his room, it was hard to stop his head from spinning.
God. God, it was too much.
For a while, he didn’t even move from the balcony. He stood up there trying to slow his heart rate before it exploded, trying to control his breathing before his lungs gave out. It was almost a question in his mind, why he was doing this if it affected him this much.
But then again, maybe that was what it was supposed to be in a relationship. Maybe not so soon, maybe not so strongly, but extreme emotions were Alan’s area of expertise. He spent so much time freaking out, so much time having irrationally negative thoughts. He was good at blowing things out of proportion, and there was no reason why this would be any different. It was probably just one of those things that time would tell was wrong with him. He didn’t function right emotionally.
That was okay, though, it would have to be okay for now because Shale was downstairs waiting for him, as the memory of a kiss on his cheek reminded him. He crawled back through the window and moved through the house as quickly as he could without drawing too much attention to himself, glad that Shale hadn’t told him to change because he knew that if he was dressed too nicely, his family would start asking where he was going. He didn’t know specifics, anyway, but even if he did it wasn’t like he would tell them. He was giving nothing away. It was best just to look casual, just to disappear out of the house the same way he always did. Keep the attention to a minimum.
At least, though, by the time that he got out to Shale, he was calm enough to function, despite the fluttering in his stomach.
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[/td][/tr][/table] Notes: okay i wrote this really fast and i am getting kicked off in a matter of seconds so if it is bad i am sorry Tag: Shale~! Words: 1336 [/center] |
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Post by Deleted on Nov 29, 2012 20:15:02 GMT -7
where the lost boys meet , [atrb=style, background: #373737; border: dashed #ffffff 4px; border-radius:50px 0px 50px 0px;] [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border: dashed #ffffff 3px; width: 400px; height: 500px; float: left; padding-left: 10px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 25px; padding-top: 25px;]
If there was ever a time when Alan’s mother was home and Natalie wasn’t, it became Alan’s job to keep the kids out of the way. She’d push the four youngest to the back porch or to one of the bedrooms, and then yell at him--as if volume would solve his inability to hear her--to keep them quiet and out of trouble and, most importantly, out of her way. There were years in the past, before Vanessa and Kyle were born, when it was just Steph and Riley to keep under control, when Alan had wondered what went on out in the rest of the house. Without the ability to listen through the door, it was virtually impossible to find out. It wasn’t until he realized that the thick, dizzying smell that often followed these occasions wasn’t normal that he had put it together, and then he wished he didn’t know. And he didn’t need the other kids finding out, either. So he’d sit, back against the door and knees pulled up to his chest, the immovable guardian of the portal between the small, single-roomed world in front of him and the untold activities behind him in the rest of the house. He did little to entertain his siblings, and they knew he wasn’t going to, so they found ways to entertain themselves wherever they were locked, having long since given up trying to move him out of the way so they could enter the rest of the house. Eventually, their mother would come back and release them. The problem was, with Alan sitting in front of the door, it didn’t open well for her. Over time he had gotten good at noticing the vibration of the floor as she approached, and if not that, then the feeling of her trying to open the door was enough. Without fail, though, she’d always find something wrong with the job he’d done watching them, and she’d yell at him again, but it made no difference. Alan had learned years before that his mother didn’t speak, she yelled. Either way, he didn’t care what she had to say, and he was momentarily glad he didn’t have to hear.
Sometimes, though, he did wonder what his world--the world of rambunctious children, stressed older sister, and permanently unhappy mother--sounded like. It was more than a wish for his hearing back. He wanted to be able to know what other people knew and what they used to form their opinions of the house, the family. Especially now that he was with Shale, now that he knew personally who lived beside him, whose opinion was so important. He never had to consider how soundproof the walls were because he couldn’t be disturbed that way, but what noise leaked through from Shale’s, and what noise did Shale hear from his? Was Shale ever kept awake by the sound of Alan destroying his bedroom? Did Shale’s father ever consider calling the police because of the noise that was hardly muffled by the wall between their home? He wondered these things as he moved through his house in silence, always in silence. He could have been walking loudly enough that the entire neighborhood would hear, and he would never know.
The balcony was a world apart. For ages, it had been where Alan had gone to be alone, but now it was where he sought company--Shale’s company. His boyfriend’s company. It was where the outside would couldn’t affect him; his family wouldn’t bother him there, school couldn’t follow him there... It was separate completely from the rest of existence, as far as he was concerned. But who knew what noises he was missing? What sounds drifted through the glass of the window and the plaster of the walls that he couldn’t himself detect? Did they disturb Shale? So many questions, and he knew he’d never ask any of them.
The idea of literally going on a date was strange, in Alan’s mind. He never much pictured himself having anyone to go with, anyway, but there was more than that. With Shale not yet being fluent in sign language. it was difficult to achieve any sort of substantial conversation. Anywhere besides their balcony, their have, their small bubble away from the world, silence was seen as uncomfortable. It was appropriate to be talking, always talking if one was with another person. To be seen out in the world with another person but not speaking to them was some sort of taboo, even Alan knew this. Other people looked at those sorts of people differently. And so it would be difficult, really, to go out and not attract unwanted attention. Add to that the fact that the both of them were boy, heads were bound to turn. It all made Alan wonder why they would bother. Certainly, it would be interesting to go places and do things, but when one considered the drawbacks, was it worth it? Alan didn’t mean to think this way, but he did. It made him wonder if something was wrong with the balcony in Shale’s mind, which landed him at the idea that perhaps it was just too noisy. If that was the case, Alan would never know.
However, even if it didn’t make much sense to go places, Alan was glad for the opportunity. For the both of them, it meant getting away from their houses, their families, all those things they went to the balcony to escape. A change in scenery wouldn’t be so bad.
As he flung open the screen door and caught sight of Shale standing there waiting, he felt his stomach tie itself into all sorts of knots, and the knots trapped the butterflies, and in response, the butterflies fluttered madly, and it made his heart beat fast again. The look of absolute delight on Shale’s face, he couldn’t comprehend it. It couldn’t be a reaction to seeing him. People couldn’t feel this way about him. He wondered if Shale was experiencing the same sort of nervous excitement that he was. For that first second, one hand pushing the door to make sure it latched properly, Alan felt his breath catch. Biting his lip, all the first hit him, one after another--first date with his first boyfriend, who was his first kiss, the first one to bother themselves with him, the first person to learn sign language for him... He couldn’t help it when the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, a small smile appearing on his face. Because, God, Shale. There weren’t enough words to describe that boy.
He went down the few stairs from his door rather quickly and headed down the path to the sidewalk, Shale meeting him halfway. Alan watched attentively as Shale signed to him, noting that the hesitations were significantly shorter and fewer than perhaps anyone else’s would be with as much time to learn as Shale had had. And, though there were several words that Shale still had to spell, it was more than Natalie had done in seventeen years, so he couldn’t complain, and would never complain. It was amazing, what Shale was doing, and flattering. He couldn’t have been more pleased with Shale’s progress.
In response, he simply nodded, letting Shale know he didn’t mind walking. He did plenty of walking, he was long since bothered by distance. And anyways, it could be interesting to see where Shale’s mother lived. Alan didn’t know terribly much about Shale’s family, but he did know they had significantly more money than most. He supposed his mother must live in the upper class district, a place he typically stayed away from to avoid the feeling of desperate poverty. He was well aware of what he did not have, he didn’t need the wealth of others to remind him. Still, he was interested--eager, almost--to see what sort of place Shale came from, to gain that sort of insight into his life.
Alan accepted the cigarette Shale offered when it was extended to him, as he always did. As Shale got another out for himself, Alan pulled out his lighter from his pocket, lighting Shale’s first before moving on to his own, then putting the lighter away. He had a strange fondness for this, when they smoked together. It seemed to excuse the silence.
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[/td][/tr][/table] Notes: this was good and then bad and then good again oh gosh Tag: Shale~! Words: 1395 [/center] |
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Post by shale on Dec 7, 2012 18:14:37 GMT -7
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://colourlovers.com.s3.amazonaws.com/images/patterns/0/635.png)][atrb=style, padding: 10px;] I'm building a place, something amazing- - - - - Just for the sake of saving us from under the sun, two plastic hearts with nowhere to run. We're rolling the dice on whatever's left cause God only knows that we could use the rest... It would take an hour to walk to Shale's mothers house. A long time, but it was basically what ti took to get across Caroline, short cuts and all. Shale wished his mother did not keep his car, his since he was sixteen locked up in her garage. However his parents had argued a car like his would get taken by anyone in the vicinity of the lower class and was safer off up there. He was sure they were using this to keep Shale caged in, wary of his budding rebellious nature. Surely keeping his car located safely an hour away was perfect for days like these when he was grounded. Shale had no idea why they thought locking his car away would do anything towards keeping Shale in the house. Shale was a teenager, if need be he would walk a day to get what he wanted. An hour was nothing, not with Alan by his side. Not with Alan lighting Shale's cigarette for him, Shale inhaling the rough smoke, smirk tilting up the sides of his lips. He sighed out a breath, tinged with smoke. It was a nice trade, a smoke for a light, a heart for a heart.
The town of Caroline seemed so small as shale walked beside Alan, both of them smoking, bodies apart, not a word passing between them. It was just another day on the balcony. It was still a marvel this was happening, Shale walking with Alan. Wasn't it not to long ago that they were just classmates? That Shale hated Alan on the mere fact that Alan had to tutor Shale in a subject. The attraction Shale had felt before to this boy had been topped by the annoyance he felt at him, if not for mere fact of existing then for the fact that Alan was smart where Shale was not. Now he was walking with the boy and thinking about holding his hand but holding back for reasons unknown to man and animal alike. He just smoked his cigarette, hand wandering up and down between his lips and to rest at his side. There were hardly anyone out this time of day, but anytime another person would pass, usually with a dog or jogging, Shale would quietly quicken his step to walk in front of Alan for a moment, before settling back beside him. In the time it took for both of their cigarettes to waste down to nothing, they had not spoken a word. And this didn't bother Shale. He hooped his thumbs through his back pockets, chancing a glance at Alan, like he had been this entire time, little swipes of his head to catch a glimpse of Alan's hair, a side profile of his face, sometime his eye to smile softly at him. Every time Shale caught Alan's eye he wanted to stop him for a kiss, drag him across the miles of space between them, be close. He didn't know if he was being stupid or it was just the refraining from this action.
In the time that it took to walk up Caroline, passing through countless streets, taking a path Shale was much more used to driving, no words were exchanged between the two. Shale did not hold Alan's hand like he wanted to, and nor did he take out another cigarette for either of them. Shale was already on his third, and if Alan wanted another, he could ask. They'd gotten to the upper class, houses getting bigger, lawns better kept, the hush of too much money settling around them. Shale's stomach twisted tighter at each turn they took to get closer to the area of town that his house was located in. By the time they were walking up the hill to his house, his stomach felt like a boy scouts knot practice. Everything around him was so familiar, from childhood, years passed. He wanted to know what Alan though, how Alan saw the houses, the distinct lack of people, amounts of money here that he couldn't even fathom. Shale was just nervous to how Alan was taking all this, trying to see it out of his eyes, but unable. Shale stopped, finally grabbing Alan's hands, linking their fingers together, as they reached the gate leading into Shale's home community. He used to live in a gated community, that made his head swim. He used to live here and now he brought Alan all this way. If he looked out, he could see over a good portion of Caroline, the lack of hills making this easy. He could swear he could see where they walked from. Or at least the lower class, houses small from here, but the dilapidated quality still visible. Shale shot his eyes back to Alan’s, hovering, his stomach getting tired from all the butterflies. With his free hand, Shale traced the side of Alans face, and then brought his hand up again to rest along the line of his hair, fingers wandering into the locks. He kissed Alan again, merely stalling for time for his heart to stop beating, vision to stop spinning. He didn't know why he felt so light headed. He chose to place it on all the damn cigarettes he smoked. Shale took his time before pulling back, tasting the lasting cigarette on Alan's breath. He was smiling even before he pulled back, drifting away from Alan, towards the gates to the community. Practised fingers punched out the number in, and there they were. Shale took Alan's hand again, pulling him through the automatic gate, forward into the streets. The houses here could have been made of gold for how splendid they were, shining in their worth.
It wasn't long from here to Shale's home, he could see it just three houses down, towering over the edge of the cliff. Large sloping roofs, fake Greek columns, Shale knew there was a pool in the back, knew how many rooms were in the house, saw the fact that the garage was not a part of the house but indeed a separate building altogether. The sloping lawn leading up to the grand front door, the trees used for privacy, and god, all that money for this home. As they approached the walk up to the house, Shale didn't let go of Alan's hand once, unconscious that he was holding it tighter than necessary. He didn't know who was home, what was waiting for them. It was lucky the garage was not connected to the house, less chance they would be seen by anyone in the house. Shale stopped looking at Alan as he turned them to the walkway that veered towards the grand house, only splitting off to go to the garage halfway up. He didn't want to see Alan's reaction to the place he used to call home, instead walking quick, tugging Alan along. Shale only dropped Alan's hand when they reached the garage which Shale swore was almost as big as their homes back in the lower class. He sighed, looking back at Alan, shooting him a smile.
Just before Shale reached the large garage door, a sudden shout stopped him in his tracks. It wasn't even a noise, just a startled shout. Shale turned to see what looked like a little blue rocket shooting towards him. Without even a word, Shale was bending down, a smile larger than that even brought on by Alan bursting over his face. A small girl was suddenly swept up in his arms, body lifting her, transferring the momentum into a short swing in a circle. The girl seemed to be chanting something like “Shayley” over and over again, Shale burrowing his head into her small neck, hugging her so hard it almost seemed like he was going to break her. As he placed the girl down, it could be seen she looked much like Shale. Save for her long ash blond hair and the blue dress she was wearing, the two were obviously siblings. She clung to him much longer than necessary, Shale forced to lean over into the hug until she let him go to straighten up. “What are you doing here Shayley?” the little girl asked, bouncing forward on her heels. Shale couldn't help but look around to see if any of his other siblings were around, happy to see none had appeared out of the blue. Their reception of Shale at their home would not be this joyous. And then he chanced a glance at Alan, who must have been confused. “I had to come get my car, don't tell mom though, okay Greyla? I came wi-” he had to stop though, interrupted as Grey walked away from him, her attention gathered by the form of Alan, standing away from them. Shale froze, his heart suddenly picking up again as his youngest sibling stood in front of his boyfriend. Then, true to form, Grey stuck out a hand, looking up at Alan. “Hello, I'm Grey Locke, who are you?”
WORDS | 1506 | TAGS | alan<3 | NOTES |this was supposed to be short oops
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Post by Deleted on Dec 13, 2012 18:32:49 GMT -7
where the lost boys meet , [atrb=style, background: #373737; border: dashed #ffffff 4px; border-radius:50px 0px 50px 0px;] [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border: dashed #ffffff 3px; width: 400px; height: 500px; float: left; padding-left: 10px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 25px; padding-top: 25px;]
In all his time, all his wandering through Caroline, Alan had never spent much time venturing through the upper district. He had no intention of making himself look and feel poorer in comparison to the locals’ excruciating wealth. Even some of the houses in the middle district set him off on the sort of depressive thinking that he tried to avoid; it would be masochistic to ever go so far as to walk pointlessly through the streets lined with houses worth more than anyone in his entire family had and would ever make in their lifetime. He could imagine those houses, though he avoided seeing them whenever possible--living rooms bigger than his entire home, bathtubs big enough to do laps in, maids to keep the place shining. He had never fully understood the practicality of that was, what someone would need so much space for when all it did was add to the time and effort required in cleaning the place, but he supposed it must be a show of wealth. In the same way Alan strove to be invisible, he knew that those with money wanted everyone’s eyes on them, wanted everyone to know about their wealth. It was a status symbol, and it meant that they were better than everyone else.
It was that that made Alan wonder so much about Shale. Though they never much discussed money, it was obvious that Shale had it. The things in Shale’s room, his clothes, even the way he walked suggested that he came from money. And now, as they walked up the hill to the more expensive housing, Alan wondered how Shale managed to avoid letting it go to his head, to avoid showing it all off. When Shale played his bass, or they spent an afternoon surrounded by Shale’s possessions, when Shale was dressed neater than most of the other people in their school, nothing in that made it seem that Shale thought he was better than anyone else. That made Shale so much easier to be around. Were he like the rest of them, this relationship would never be what it was. Some people might say that if it’s meant to be, money won’t matter, but that didn’t seem to fit here. It was far too early to talk about destiny, anyway, but more importantly, there were some things that were sensitive issues for Alan, and money was one of them. If this was going to work out at all, Shale couldn’t be flaunting money around. And so there was some comfort, really, that Shale lived in the lower class district, despite the wealth abundant enough to live elsewhere.
But the big houses houses surrounding them did plenty to make Alan feel small. It only got worse when they went through the gate into the community where Shale’s mother and sisters made their residence. Shale seemed nervous then, judging by the way he was holding Alan’s hand, but Alan couldn’t say he minded. It helped, really, it helped that Shale was holding him there, ignoring the sheer enormity of the houses surrounding them, looking at them as inconsequential. Shale’s indifference kept him from staring. But he still couldn’t but feel dwarfed, insignificant, out of place. There was something about coming from poverty that crushed the dream of getting somewhere in life. Teachers and parents were supposed to tell you that you could do anything you wanted, get anywhere you wanted to go, just as long as you followed your dreams. But at a certain point, it seems pointless to believe things like that anymore. Alan was reminded with each step that he would never, never own a house anywhere near the value of the ones before him.
Shale’s mother’s home didn’t look terribly remarkable compared to the houses of the neighbors, but it was still something from a fantastical dream when placed next to the house Alan had spent his life in. He stared at it, drinking every detail in, and he ended up rather distracting, with Alan only noticing the presence of another person with them after several moments, when he finally decided he should see what Shale needed him to do. It was then that he noticed the girl, the small girl Shale was clinging to. A moment later, Shale looked over at him, and the next, the girl was standing in front of him, holding out a hand to him, and he could see that she was speaking to him. For a moment, it seemed like nonsense; younger children always seemed harder to read the lips of, and what Shale’s sister (or at least, that’s who she seemed to be) was saying, none of it made sense. ‘I’m gray lock.’ Of course, that only led to him feeling rather stupid when he remembered that Shale’s sister was called Grey.
Alan was never particularly good at dealing with people, particularly children. He didn’t put forth much effort, either, but that was beside the point. Still, he wanted for Shale’s siblings to like him, and so he was going to do what he could to be friendly, at least.
And so he shook her hand and, once they had let go of one another, he signed back to her, regardless of if she would be able to understand or not. Shale could translate for her. Alan Sommers. I’m Shale’s friend. |
[/color][/font] [/div] [/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table] Notes: how is it that i tried to make this short and it was still close to a thousand words Tag: Shale~! Words: 905 [/center] |
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