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Post by MICHAELANGELO DONATELLO GRACE on Nov 25, 2012 0:03:46 GMT -5
Crying was healthy when done in moderation, like most bodily functions. Most people didn’t like it, but it was true. Crying was good for you. It released the pent-up emotions and the turmoil inside of you and brought it out into the world. It cleared the “air” inside your head and let your body relax on the knowledge that it didn’t need to keep holding something inside itself, something that when collected would cause more harm than any release. Mickey knew, intellectually, that crying was good for him. He just hated doing it. It made him feel weak and empty, and he would so much rather be full of something than empty with nothing. He would so much rather be strong, but crying took that away from him. It made him feel as if something more powerful was in charge of his body, and he didn’t like that. He was used to feeling as though he wasn’t truly in charge of his mind or his body. He was used to it, and he absolutely hated it. He hated not being alone in his head and he hated the thought that someone else might be in charge of what he was doing. He wasn’t a regular rule-breaker, no, and he could respect authority. He expected respect for authority, and held the rule to himself. He just didn’t like someone to have ultimate control over him, and sometimes it felt like the schizophrenia did. Those tended to be the worst days.
Today wasn’t a bad day, though. No, he rather considered today to be a good one. He was starting to really like having met up with Avery, no matter the extent of the accident. Maybe that was just because he enjoyed how flustered the water was turning out to be. The blush killed him. It amused him and made him want to grin like a fool, but he tried to tone it down. This was hard, considering that he knew he’d been the one to cause it, even if he didn’t quite understand that blush. He just liked the look of it. He didn’t even know why he liked seeing the reddening of the man’s cheeks. It was more than just amusement. He knew that much, but he didn’t know what that “more” was. He almost had a feeling he never would. It made him consider how emotionally stunted he might be, another unpleasant thought process. His mother had accused him of it, teasingly of course, but it still stuck with him. Or had she really been serious? He shook it off, shaking his head just as much at the blushing nurse’s antics. “A lot of people would dispute the idea of ‘hanging around’ me being analogous to having good taste,” he replied instead, shaking his head again. It was an insult to himself, but one he could understand.
He couldn’t understand the odd expectation of someone randomly breaking into song. Of course, he felt he would rather appreciate a dance mob, but he was fairly unlikely to actually participate in one. He didn’t have the organizational skills for that. He had the memory, but not the focus. He’d go off in some direction and probably miss the start. Joining halfway through would be insanely awkward, not just for him, but for the audience as well. It would break the illusion. Part of the amusingness of a dance mob was the spontaneity, the way everything was so perfectly planned out, how the organization wasn’t visible in the actual performance. It took so much work, and the observer would never know the details unless he or she happened to be part of a dance mob at some point in past or future. God, why was he thinking about dance mobs? He needed to focus on what was going on right in front of him. He was probably to avoid thinking about stumbling and how it had caused the nurse to run into him again. This one had been far less embarrassing, fortunately. He hadn’t grabbed the crotch. No, Avery had grabbed onto him, which was far easier to appreciate.
Similarly, he was appreciating the physical proximity and was, again, confusing to him. He didn’t even know why he liked having Avery so close to him. Maybe it was the reality of the touch. Maybe he liked the reminder that Avery was really in front of him, really there for him to speak with. Yeah, he rather enjoy that fact. He liked all the reminders of reality, because they kept him in it. That was why he liked it when his mother hugged him, which she did whenever he visited. He didn’t even mind holding hands with his sisters if they asked for it, or playing with the baby because it generally required physical contact. It was the easiest. Easy was sometimes wonderful. He liked it when things were easier. The easy things were the simplest to accomplish and he really didn’t want to fight to get done what he wanted to get done. He didn’t want there to be anything in his way. He just wanted a clear road for once and he seriously felt like that would be hard because he didn’t even know where he wanted to go. It was frustrating as all hell.
“A nurse who barely manages to stay on his own feet,” he commented dryly, lifting an eyebrow at the man. The nurse had tripped himself. He wasn’t exactly the best authority on helping others prevent injury when he nearly harmed his own body. Of course, Mickey wasn’t going to make any more comments on it, because he didn’t like drawing out unpleasant details. Unpleasant details were ones to be gotten out quickly and avoided thereafter if possible. Like some he knew, he much preferred feeling good, and would pursue the pleasure to avoid the pain. Life was just better like that, usually. Why would life be worse for it if one managed to traipse away from the bad things? It seemed like that was the best recipe for a wonderful life. Not a dangerous one, and perhaps not an excited one, but a good life nonetheless—depending, of course, what one considered a good life. Michaelangelo just wanted to be happy. He had a feeling he would never be happy until the day he was cured, but maybe he could get close to that unreachable thing and grasp a sensation just beneath it. So close. If only he could get there. “Why do you call yourself a nurse? I thought you were a doctor?” Change topics when possible. Keep calm and carry on. Ignore the warmth in your cheeks and the awkwardness.
Potentially, the conversation about children could be just as awkward. Their views on children obviously differed. If not for the reason Avery gave, the wind would have been far from sympathetic. But those words… they resounded with him, and he knew exactly why. He sat down in the sand and leaned against one of the bars of the swing’s stand, looking up at Avery, watching him move back and forth, staring at the sky with that faint smile and the eyes that suddenly closed. Avery was the lonely sort. Michaelangelo would never be alone. He sighed. “Sometimes, being lonely is better than being crowded. Sometimes… you get tired of not being alone.” He certainly did. He missed the days when his head was unoccupied. He missed them more than he missed his therapist, possibly because he’d only ever met his therapist because he wasn’t alone in his head and that was driving him crazy. He dealt with it okay, but he still had the nights when things got bad. When the voices were loud and endless, when he wished plugging his ears and pulling a pillow over his head would actually work. But it didn’t it never did. He wished it would. He wished so hard.
And if that acted like a clue, so what? Maybe Avery had honestly seen the prescription. Maybe he knew exactly what it was for. Maybe it was hopeless. Maybe he was found out and maybe he’d be losing his job. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
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Post by AVERY JUNNOSUKE KAEL on Dec 16, 2012 21:55:56 GMT -5
Being with Mickey at this moment, Avery suddenly realized the many “firsts” he had with him. Maybe it wasn’t the “first kiss” or “first love”—none of the romantic firsts. But Mickey was the first to stick up for him; first person Avery thought of highly; first person to make him really blush. The thought made him shuffle his feet uncomfortably. It wasn’t easy to make the nurse blush, let alone fluster, so he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but it was a first. Especially since Mickey seemed so casual about it—it kind of put Avery on edge just thinking about it, but he quickly shook it off, refusing to be over-analytical about it like he usually is. He’s changed, and so has Mickey. Hey, maybe it was just a normal thing for the Wind to… unintentionally make people… blush. Huh. Now that sounded too ridiculous, but it was possible. Mickey was an unpredictable person—who’s to say Avery’s predictions weren’t true? Only one way to find out, right? Continue to spend more time with him. It was the only way for them to really understand each other after all these years, but then again, that thought unsettled him. It was easy to believe that they’d pick up right where they left off—but where exactly did they leave off? They weren’t friends, but they weren’t exactly strangers, either. Their relationship was… complicated; if the thing they had could even be considered a “relationship.”
He wasn’t going to let this bother him. What mattered now was that they’re making an effort, right? Mickey was the one who approached him first and stuck around. Yes, this was good progress, even though the Wind has been a huge distraction to Avery the past few days, for more reasons than one. The most obvious—because they haven’t seen each other in over a decade after Mickey seemingly disappearing from his life. The second and most important—the medication. Normally it wouldn’t have bothered Avery, but the prescription. You didn’t have to be an expert to realize something was wrong, but since Avery was an expert and knew exactly what that kind of medicine treated, it was just… like a bomb going off in his head. He finally realized why Mickey left in the first place but the revelation didn’t make him feel satisfied. It made him feel sick—how many nights did he spend accusing the Wind of… of… betrayal? Of abandoning him? God, the twist in his stomach was enough for Avery to throw the rest of his ice cream in a nearby trash can. Shrugging, he sighed. “But I’m not like most people,” Avery said simply, looking curiously at Mickey. Maybe he wasn’t as… pleasant to be around like he was back in high school, but the professor was still nice to be around. But that was probably just Avery being Avery—he generally liked everybody, unless they gave him a reason not to. And since Mickey hasn’t, the nurse will continue to like him. Until then, he just hoped that wouldn’t happen.
Avery was a touchy-feely person. Any kind of physical contact, he would appreciate. It wasn’t the actual touch he appreciated, it was rather the… feeling it gave him? He couldn’t explain it; it was affectionate, gentle. Despite whomever it was making physical contact with him, it kind of reminded him of his mother’s touch—you know, before she started hating him. It’s been over a decade since he’s received any affection from his mother and Avery stopped caring long before that, but there were times where he missed it. Maybe that’s why he was so touchy-feely—to compensate for that. Even now, it had some relevancy though it was more on accident than anything. He gripped Mickey’s shirt tightly as he tried to steady himself, taking note that the Wind was warmer (and softer!) than he imagined. It wasn’t awkward either, like the incident they had a few days ago. Rather, this was more natural, comfortable—a hug with an old friend; that’s what Avery imagined it to be but he quickly pulled away, not wanting to linger any longer and raise questions. So he casually grinned sheepishly at him, a silent apology.
Avery scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Hey, at least I’m still a nurse.” He poked at Mickey’s chest to emphasize his point. For most people, when they first meet Avery, the last thing they’d imagine him to be was a nurse. He was clumsy, immature, and young. Well, looked young, anyways. But he honestly took his job seriously; it wasn’t like he applied for the job at the Academy just to flirt with high school kids. It wasn’t anything like that, but he guessed he understood why people thought that way. Avery was a flirt, but he meant no harm in it. It was more for fun than anything else. “Because doctor sounds too professional, scary.” He shrugged. “The kids find it funny, so they’re more comfortable with me. Smart idea, right?” Avery then grinned at Mickey, laughing slightly. It sounded ridiculous, but it was the actually truth. The looks on the students’ faces when they found out ‘Nurse Kael’ was actually a dude and not a girl. They ranged from hilarity and disappointment, both of which Avery treasured. Now that he’s worked at the Academy for a few years, the students already know what to expect, but at least now they’re comfortable with him.
He had always loved kids. Even when he was younger and his parents were on good terms, he’d always ask them if he could have a younger brother or sister for his birthday or Christmas. Avery just liked the thought of taking care of someone else—maybe raise a kid if he ever got married or something. He just didn’t want any kid of his have to experience what he went through when he grew up. The pain, the loneliness, the feeling of abandonment—no. Avery refused to let that happen. “…” Avery stayed silent, swinging back and forth. He instantly knew what Mickey was talking about and he almost regretted even speaking in the first place. C’mon, Avery, say something. But then it occurred to him—Mickey didn’t need pity. He didn’t someone to tell him everything was going to be alright, because Avery knew that phrase to well and he knew that no matter how times someone would say it, it wouldn’t come true. So he sat still in his swing, contemplating for a moment, and then slid down to the ground silently next to him. Hesitantly, Avery rested his head against Mickey’s shoulder. “Being alone is never good,” he murmured, playing blankly with the sand. “Maybe you just have the wrong crowd.”
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