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Post by MICHAEL CONNER BARTON on Apr 8, 2013 22:38:42 GMT -5
 --- i'll be there when you close your eyes ,. [/color][/size][/font] ( HOLD YOU TIGHT, SAY GOODNIGHT )[/center]
Michael emerges his room, striped off his work clothes, and pulled on shorts, a light shirt, a pair of heavy socks, and a worn out pair of athletic shoes. He stretched, as he's seen the Olympic athletes do before they train, and then, he went outside and did what he did at least once a day: he ran. The first time he went out back when he still lived in Florida, he thought was going to die. His pace was barely faster than a brisk walk, and a few yards into it he got a stitch in his side. At first he thought he'd injured himself, but when his school nurse told him what it was, and that he could avoid it by avoiding strenuous exercise, the next day he went out again and ran harder.
There was something about the exercise that was addicting for the Thunder. The burn he felt in his legs and lungs no longer were painfully- granted it wasn’t pleasant- but he welcomed the burn now. The exhilaration drew him back to the activity even on days where he didn’t want to drag himself out of bed. The rapid clap of hard-soled sneakers striking weathered pavement sounded distant, drowned out by the sound of the music pumping into his ears as he hurled herself forward, faster and faster, toward nowhere.
Now that Michael had been running for a few years, he doesn't get as tired anymore. He was eating more, sleeping better, and spending less time feeling moody. He was also becoming more focused. He paid less attention to the muttering he heard from other and all the trouble he use to draw in. His mind was clearer than it's ever been. The runner’s high was long into affect as his feet brought him from his apartment to the heart of Maple Hollow. Instead of trapping himself on a treadmill inside, Michael had found joy in breathing in the fresh air. Plus the gym had a tendency of being rather crowded. Half the joy of running was the isolation.
The gym also had the joys of gross body odors always hanging around. No matter what time he walked into that place the smell was overbearing. Maple Hollow in the fall was a picturesque place, perfect for a nice afternoon running tour. With the changing of the leaves colors it added to the peaceful experience Michael craved. Lost in his on world and the playlist he had going Mike was too wrapped up in his run and taking in the sights to notice just where he was running. Dazed and overwhelmed by the sights, Michael didn’t see the dip in the sidewalk or see that his foot landed straight in it.
”Holy Shit!” he called out. His balance was thrown off and he grabbed the first thing he could find to stop him from tumbling down to the pavement. His death grip curled around what felt like a shoulder, stopping him from going Black Hawk Down, sadly throwing the other person off kilter as well. Once he was finally able to steady himself, Michael let go of his victim and ripped out the ear buds from his iPod. ”I’m sorry man, I didn’t see you there,” he said, mustering as much sincerity as he could while also catching his breath. ”Damn sidewalk is a death trap.”
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Post by ELLIOT NATHAN YEAGER on Apr 10, 2013 20:57:39 GMT -5
  Now that he had gotten over his "illness" (thankfully it hadn't been allergies), he was wary. Anyone coughing near him made wince, side-eye them until they went away. A cough had him waving his hands away to disperse the cloud of germs headed his way. Being sick had been god awful, especially during the summer.
And speaking of summer, he was holding onto the last vestiges of the season. There had been some warm days in September, and those days had him running out in his swim trunks and heading to the lake. His sister judged him for it -- "You're an assclown, by the way" -- but he had friends who understood just how important swimming was to the guy. However, with fall here the temperatures dropped way low sometimes and in those cases, his sister had every right to judge him when he headed out to the lake.
Even though the weather didn't allow much for swimming, he still liked to be outside. Especially when he had work he was procrastinating on, like the English paper sitting abandoned on his bed, next to his school bag. He may have been doing a lot better this year than he had the last, but that didn't mean he had suddenly changed his ways of life. Perhaps the only reason he was passing was because he bullshat so well. Though not entirely true, it helped. Luckily, natural intelligence aided him, at least in the area of sciences. His physics class was his favorite, and that was something he didn't tell his friends for they might have thought it awfully strange that class clown Yeager actually had a passion for something.
In any case, a lot of the times he went out, he liked to shop at the outlets. The bags on his arms were weighed down with shirts and shoes and more clothes than his salary as a Chinese delivery boy could afford. His dads had once confiscated his credit card, but now they just left him to his own devices and rolled their eyes when he tried to bum money off of them.
As he peered into one of his bags to see that the receipt was in there as he walked down the sidewalk he blinked and let out a "fuck" as he felt himself being held onto like a fat man gripping a burrito. It took a moment for him to realize who it was, before he rolled his eyes, not paying attention to the fact that he was actually being a good guy. "Aw, come on, I know you're in love with me but..." Were he a friend, the words might have been much kinder as he pushed Mike away from him. He sighed, looking the guy up and down. "What are you doing, training for the fucking Olympics, dude? Slow your roll."
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Post by MICHAEL CONNER BARTON on Apr 19, 2013 20:01:04 GMT -5
--- i'll be there when you close your eyes ,. [/color][/size][/font] ( HOLD YOU TIGHT, SAY GOODNIGHT )[/center]
It took him moment or two for Mike to properly settle himself back on a standing position. Oh dear God, it was Yeager, the local bumbling court jester. Just when you think it cannot get worse, you find yourself stuck with this guy. ”Cut that out.” He was looking for a way to move on from this run in but Yeager kept on flapping his jaw. Michael always felt uncomfortable with small talk in a normal circumstance, so to stall his departure from Elliot was torture. Ripping his iPod out of his armband, Mike steadily wrapped the two white wires around the device before shoving it back into the compartment.
Just when he thought it was going to get better, he realized that it does get worse. His reputation preceded him in the Thunder dorms when Mike still lived on campus. Always the one quick to pull a prank or just plan mess with someone’s day. Granted it was Michael who ran into him this time so he tried to remain level headed and decent. ”Look I said I was sorry okay” That should have been enough for Yeager when others would be jumping at the chance to knock some sense into the freshman.
The runner didn’t appreciate the push from the younger man. He cast an annoyed look Yeager and wiped the sweat off of his brow. He didn’t know people were looking to insult people who exercised now. And what they hell did slow your roll even mean? ”Like you know anything about it Lochte,” blue eyes wandered down to the Water’s swim trunks. The bags he carried seemed packed from stores Michael didn’t recognize. His brow rose as if to say ‘Really?’ when he dragged his eyes back up to Yeager.
Michael went to move around the younger man put found his path blocked. The sidewalk was small enough as it was without his shopping bags clogging up more space. ”Would you please move?” he asked, not as polite as the statement should have sounded. Mike didn't look pleased at all as he held his tongue to say what he's thinking of saying and lets out a frustrated sigh. He stares at him for a while, without saying anything, before shaking his head impatiently. There was no way this was what Yeagar wanted either, forced contact with someone who doesn’t exactly play well with outgoing people. ”Maybe you really are Lochte,” he mumbled under his breath since he didn’t get the response he was hoping for.
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