Re: <font face="verdana" size=1 color=gainsboro>but i see through it all, see through... see you.</font></font> -- Corridors and Passageways

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Date Posted: 23:39:51 06/02/02 Sun
Author: Julian Emberson
Subject: Re: but i see through it all, see through... see you.
In reply to: Draco Malfoy 's message, "Re: And here I am expecting just a little bit too much from the wounded." on 22:50:07 06/02/02 Sun

Julian stopped.

He tried the hell he could to grip the wall with as much intensity he could squeeze out of himself. He laughed bitterly, loudly, facing the same bleary direction. Was there care for the other? Promptly, he answered himself, no. "You're just the same as me. Don't fucking kid me about help when you think you could actually do something other than pity me, as you so readily have done. I wouldn't have done any better."

He pushed himself off the wall and walked, a passion of flooding emotion overwhelming the liquor scratching at his brain. He looked back in memory of a brief something he'd thrown away, because nothing gold ever stays. He mumbled softly and strangely indifferently, the only regretful thing about the situation concerning them because of the relativity that must have linked them. "I learned to say 'fuck you' just as easily, Draco. No matter how well the picture seemed to paint itself."

Now, please, go poison yourself with your Benedictine and make yourself the happiest fucking prick in the world. With the determination of a woodpecker, he pulled himself haughtily to the library, each step becoming lighter as the meaningless argument fell off his shoulders and left the burden of yet another wishful hope and blunder lingering, waiting to be finished by the fingers of the bastard who dared let anything out.

He half-hoped he'd still see Draco around, if to reawaken once the momentary togetherness he felt around the other. It was as if the bout had disappeared, and he just wanted to see the other. No talking. Just a glimpse. A word was enough for Julian to pretend.

Yet a foreboding feeling of something dark washed over him.

Get to your fucking alcohol and stop. Thinking. He told himself.

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[> [> [> [> [> [> [> [> [> [> [> [> [> [> [> [> Re: .:: Our mascarade is over ::. -- Draco Malfoy, 13:47:03 06/15/02 Sat

.:: The first accusations of words had hit his ears, and something flashed within the depths of grey-blue eyes, but they seemed to both head on in their seperate directions, reguardless of the other.

This was a regular Shakespearian tragedy; the situation seemed to work so well, but, in the end, the players become the victims of their own circumstances, slaying what hope there was and creating a quickly driven demise. Was it so different here? No - with the exception that they continued to live on in spite of it, and, perhaps, if liberal amounts of pride were swallowed, there could be other chances at friendship.

But the words echoed through the young Malfoy's head; he knew, himself, that Julian was much the same as he. He'd never admit it, granted, so the least he could do was acknowledge it in the secrecy of unspeaking shadows. He couldn't help but feel so utterly burned, though, and something akin to a sorrowful emotion - and he refused direly to feel such a thing.

Blond pate declined to study the handiwork of the floor beneath him, he set off to finally be at rest in his common room; maybe, he could be at peace with himself there.

((OOC: Sorry, I've been posting on and off, but I must say that that was fun. If you ever want to continue their little nit-picky arguing and all that, just let me know.))

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