LIVIN' MY LIFE IN A SLOW HELL [GRAY]

[FABIAN ZACHARIAH XYLANDER]

Fabian didn’t generally leave the library because he knew he would get lost if he did. Sure, he had attended the academy, but that had been years ago, and he had gotten lost then, too. Besides, he hadn’t been here in way too long, and he’d only been back for a couple of months Having wanted to avoid getting lost, he’d not left the library when such a thing was avoidable. That, of course, also made it worse for him when he did leave, but that was fine. As long as he had food, he could survive in the library, right? Right. Well, he still needed to go to the bathroom. He sighed, staring at the doors in front of him for a brief moment longer before he turned away and headed back to his desk.

A picture of Aurora sat atop the counter, on the second ledge that was behind it, where the computer sat and where he kept the holds before he officially put them on the shelf. She used to say she was blonde, like flax, but he’d doubted it because her hair always looked like it was a darker shade of gray than he usually associated with blonde. She’d always said it with a smile anyway, so he hadn’t quite taken her seriously. He figured her for a ginger. Redheads were supposed to have bad tempers, right? He’d once tried to talk her into dying it the 7 colors of the rainbow, so her nae would be more apt, but he’d not been serious either. He knew she would never do it. He’d regretted it enough when he’d jokingly told her to cut her hair if she was complaining about the weight of her ponytail. She had, and he’d missed her crazy curls until they’d grown back—even if she was pretty cute with a bobbed cut.

He shook his head, running both his hands up his face, fingers under his classes, trying to wake himself up and keep himself from getting too upset. He was glad he was alone. There was no one barging through the library doors, no one reading at the little tables scattered among the shelves. He was alone, with the picture of his dead wife and thousands of books. It wasn’t a bad place to be.

Nonetheless, he found himself glancing up at the clock that hung about the double doors and wondering if it was a reasonable time to pull out his secret wine bottle yet. He figured he’d probably get in trouble if anyone saw him with it, so he usually kept it for times when he was pretty sure almost no one would be on campus, and even fewer people would be wondering to the library. Of course, he could always lock the door He had the key. He glanced at the little gold thing on the counter, severely tempted. Just one glass, and then he could go home and try to catch some sleep he knew he wouldn’t get, meaning he’d probably just lie awake in the dark until he got restless at about 2 am and decided for a work out of some sort. He shook his head again and propped his elbows on the desk, his chin in his palm.

Feeling a little like someone was watching him, he turned the picture slightly away from himself and immediately felt guilty for it. Aurora’s eyes wouldn’t be following him. That was unreasonable. She was dead, and the picture wasn’t a video of any sort. It was just… just a picture. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” he muttered bitterly and closed his eyes, rubbing at his face again.

[/font][/justify]

[ TAG ]

[/color] [ Polabear && Gray ]
[ WORD COUNT ][/color] [ 6 1 1 ]
[ OUTFIT ][/color] [ gray suit and blue tie ]
[ SETTING ][/color] [ academy library ]
[ SONG ][/color] [ "picture" by kid rock ]
[ NOTES ][/color] [ YAY for the first fabi post <3 ][/blockquote][/blockquote][/font][/blockquote]

[GRAYSON TUCKER SCHULTZ]

The library was like a sanctuary or a secret room behind a wall that no one knew about. One could tuck away behind a stack of books for hours on end and the chances of someone bothering you were slim. It was quiet, serene, and a good place to think. A lot of the titles were previously read but the library had a vast collection of things beyond the subject of biology. Psychology was a current interest Grayson had taken on; classes would start later in the year and he looked forward to it. Another degree to tack on his office wall. They made him feel accomplished.

A brief, quiet sigh passed his lips as he flipped a page, taking notes every so often. Preparation for his future classes could prove beneficial. Grayson liked to be on top of things and he would be damned if he had to feel the urge to raise his hand and ask questions that other students might have already known the answer to. He wanted to ensure that would not happen. So long as he was at the same level as the students around him, he was fine. A few people passed by his table as he read. Fortunately, the man was so engrossed in his reading he hardly took notice of their presence. The only thing that would deter him from the book was--

Beep, beep, beep.

It was quiet, a bit muffled, but certainly there. Grayson's arm twitched from the surprise but nothing more as he rolled his arm over to look at his watch. In about an hour he would need to be home for Trent. The caregiver would be heading home and he did not want to leave her waiting. As much as he focused on his studies, the man managed to be in tune with some people. The woman caring for his brother had been around for quite a long time. He was comfortable with her and managed to understand her needs and wants. With a brief flick of the wrist to readjust the watch, Grayson shut the book and stacked it on top of the other three or four reads he had prepared to bring with him at checkout. Upon going to the front desk, he set the books down and observed the man behind it. Fabian was a fairly quiet man, though it could be due to the fact that they were always in a library. He was never good at assessing others. "Good afternoon," The thunder greeted cheerfully enough, settling his arms on the desk top and not taking full notice that Fabian might be in some sort of emotional turmoil. "I'm here to check out yet another handful of books. Psychology this time." He was not a naturally talkative man and struggled with basic conversation but academics was an easy subject. Not to mention he chatted with Fabian several times before. Practically living in the library helped with that.

"Of course if you have any book suggestions--" His sentence cut off abruptly. The look on the man's face was difficult to read, as it appeared to be a conglomeration of several different emotions trying to battle with one another to gain control. Confusion? Concern? Shock? None of them won over, unfortunately. His eyes, on the other hand, were staring directly at the photo settled on Fabian's desk. Had that been there before? They did not blink for the longest time before Grayson finally managed to draw back and lift a finger in its direction. "Who is that woman?" He asked, voice level. His expression was finding neutrality again but it was not hard to miss the uncertainty in his blue-gray eyes. Is it...? She was strikingly similar but at the same time there was a chance it could be someone else.

[FABIAN ZACHARIAH XYLANDER]

There were minutes left in the day. The library was deserted. If there was anyone left in the room, he couldn't see them, but that wasn't enough. Just because you see something didn't necessarily mean that "something" didn't exist. The moon existed, even if he couldn't see it during the day. The sun existed, even when it hid during the night. And the stars were always in the sky, even when the sun's light outshone them.And so there was someone in the library, he realized as a friend stepped room between the shelves with books in his arms. "Good afternoon, Grayson," he greeted, surprised he recognized the figure so quickly. There was someone else on his mind, after all.

Aurora existed in his heart, even if he couldn't see her real, physical form in front of him anymore. He could see her face in the photographs. She existed. He glanced at the frame again. God, he missed her.

"Right. Psychology. Fascinating subject." The Words came absently, lacking all sincerity. It was amazing he had even spoken the right word as he shoved the computer mouse across its pad to shake the screen awake. He looked at the books to find the bar codes, but didn't really see them. Though covers rarely had much interest for him (their supposedly bright colors didn't really matter to him, after all), today it was mostly because he had Aurora's face seemingly tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. he would never forget those curves, the plump of her lips, the almost fractals of her eyes. Those orbs had been his favorite shade of gray, and that still mostly applied. He looked up again as he held the books out to the Professor in front of him.

It would have been more ironic if Gray had been the colorblind one, wouldn't it?

Drawn into musings as to rhetorical devices in general and having expected Grayson to leave rather quickly, the question surprised him, especially in its abruptness, because he hadn't even heard the words prior. Fabian looked up at him or a moment.

Picture.

Picture.

Oh.

He sighed and reached out. or a minute, he didn't touch the frame, as if it would burn him, but when he grasped it, there was no physical pain. He turned the image away from himself and to face Grayson. Aurora wasn't staring at him any longer. Did he have anything to say? He choked on air, his throat closing as if it were a hand making a fist. He wasn't as ready as he liked to think, as he liked to pretend, as he said he happened to be. It was easy to lie about it, but not so much to act on the lie.

He couldn't remember if Gray knew he was a widower. he didn't wear the ring on his finger anymore. He could feel the metal against his chest. It felt like it had somehow gotten 10 degrees colder.

"She..." he began slowly, staring at the back of the frame as though he could somehow glance through it. He cleared his throat and forced his gaze to meet Gray's, looking up at him and mindlessly wondering what color those eyes were. His lips pressed together in discomfort, but then parted as he replied reluctantly, "Aurora. Aurora Murdough, changed her name to Aurora Xylander." She had taken his last name, when they got married. He hadn't asked her to, but it had pleased him--that she loved him enough to love his odd name. He took a deep breath. here came the painful truth. "She died a couple of years ago." Such simple words. How could such simple words be so hard to say? So painful to think even, as his chest constricted and breathing grew difficult again.

[/font][/justify]

[ TAG ]

[/color] [ polabear && gray ]
[ WORD COUNT ][/color] [ 6 3 1 ]
[ OUTFIT ][/color] [ gray suit and blue tie ]
[ SETTING ][/color] [ academy library ]
[ SONG ][/color] [ "picture" by kid rock ]
[ NOTES ][/color] [ This was originally written by hand. I think that's why it's maintaining shortness, but I have to admit, I rather like this post. ][/blockquote][/blockquote][/font][/blockquote]

[GRAYSON TUCKER SCHULTZ]

It was not difficult for Grayson to pass over the disinterest in Fabian's voice, the distance that was somehow placed between them even though they were standing a couple of feet away from one another. Observing feelings and taking notice of the needs of others had never been his thing and, were he more aware, he would actually feel guilty for not having the capability to ask 'what's wrong?' or 'can I help?' in order to be the sort of friend he should be. Perhaps that was why his friendships crumbled so quickly in the past. Nothing worth dwelling on. The man's mind was focused more on the contents of the library books being checked out than anything else, though he did glance up at the librarian a couple of times to try and make eye contact. Something about Fabian intrigued him.

Was it because he seemed just as studious? Or maybe it was that their conversations did not drive Grayson into a state of madness. He did find himself rather lonely on some days; at least Fabian was a decent dose of human contact that would satiate him for a while. Of course the conversation he could have potentially started--the one that his colleague had inadvertently overlooked--was thrown into a startling halt when the picture came into question. Grayson had not meant to pry. The reaction was automatic and unprecedented. He had not remembered that Fabian was a widower, but that was of no surprise. His mind was not geared for remembering details of others unless given a true reason to do so. He blinked and watched as the other man reached for the frame, hesitated, and then picked it up to allow Grayson to observe the woman closer. A jolt of remembrance and electricity coursed from the base of his neck and down to his toes. There was something clouding his already gray eyes. Memories. A lot of memories.

"Aurora..." The name felt new on his tongue though it had been spoken so many times before. There was familiarity to it, yet it felt like a stranger. Even the last name was the same. There was no mistaking that this Aurora was the same one all those years ago. One of his best friends. She was one of the handful that he wound up drifting away from. Nothing out of the ordinary...

Except there was no chance at renewing the ties he had severed.

Died. Died? Dead...it resounded in Grayson's head like an unwanted echo, a voice cackling somewhere in the background. A voice that shoved upon his shoulders the greatest weight the man could ever feel: guilt. Remorse. Regret. It led to other foreign emotions that hardly surfaced but they were not evident on his face. The only one that was readable at the moment was shock. "I...I see," He replied at last, finally untying his tongue long enough to say something. How can you console someone for their loss when you felt like you were experiencing it as well? Only he was a couple years late. "She uhm...I knew her, actually. Years ago. She was a friend of mine." Now allowing the shock to seep in and the grief to overtake his heart, the professor set his arms on the counter and dipped his head. It was difficult to stare at anything but his hands. "I'm sorry for your loss, Fabian. Though verbal condolences hardly ever bring consolation, that's all I can offer you." And now Grayson himself wished that he could find consolation in something, because his eyes started to burn something fierce.

[FABIAN ZACHARIAH XYLANDER]

When Gray spoke his wife’s name, Fabian looked up. It sounded like that particular name had come from that particular mouth before, that it was not new. Of course, it wasn’t an uncommon name. It was perfectly normal. He wouldn’t be surprised if Gray had known someone named Aurora. And then he admitted to having known her. That she was a friend of his, and Fabian waited for a moment, surprise mixing quickly with confusion. He searched his memories. Had he knew many of Aurora’s friends back in high school? No, he hadn’t, they’d all been two years younger than he, because she liked being those who were her age… He froze. Her age. Gray was probably two years younger than. He vaguely remember the colorless name, musing about it with Aurora after she’d introduced him to her friend. They’d been best friends. That was why she’d introduced them. Boyfriend, meet best friend. Widower, meet friend with a loss.

His stomach twisted. Man, he really wanted that glass of wine. But he shouldn’t.

“I remember,” he stated first, frowning slightly at the man in front of him, though not meaning poorly or really irate with him. He wasn’t sure if Gray would remember, though he supposed prodding would be helpful in getting him there. Though he supposed, too, that there was enough pain in the professor’s system, as he watched the arms come down and the head seem to fall, dragged down by the gravity of grief. It, unlike any other emotion he had experience, had the power to tear everything down. Grief was what turned love into hatred, as far as he was concerned regarding fairy tales. The evil queen was only evil because the so-called pure-hearted princess had ruined her life. Or so his opinion went, from having read far too many fairy tales and fables, but no one asked for his opinion on much of anything anyway, so perhaps having an opinion was pointless in the long run, until you found a significant other who could at least pretend they cared if they didn’t actually, which had always been the best part of having a good friend or a significant other. As it stood, he was pretty sure he had neither, and that Gray was probably as close as he was getting in the friend department. He stuck to himself too much to have more friends. He preferred the books on the shelves.

The only pain they caused him would be if they fell on him, and then it was more gravity to blame than really anything else, unless a person decided to throw a book at him, missed, and ended up hitting a wall and falling on him that way. Books don’t hurt people, people hurt people. How many variations of that cliche existed? More useless wondering breathed through his mind, like a wind trying to blow away debris in the form of unpleasant thoughts, but it was a wind that failed largely because it had no power behind it, especially in comparison to the debris. He ultimately felt terrible just for considering his time with Aurora to be debris at all, and that only tore his mood down further. Today was not his day. But then, no day really belonged to anyone, unless the government happened to decided it was a good idea to dedicate a holiday to you. It was flattering, generally, but also generally happened postmortem, so you couldn’t really be flattered anymore. And he guessed it would probably be even less flattering if your day was lumped together with a lot of others, like Presidents’ Day in the USA. At least, if those Presidents lived somewhere, he guessed that was what they would think.

He certainly agreed with what Gray was saying about apologies. He sighed. He’d gotten enough apologies—from the doctors, from the nurses, from her family, from his… and now from someone he thought would never say such a thing, probably because he hadn’t really thought of Gray having such a strong reaction to being told that someone’s wife was dead—and had forgotten that Gray had been Aurora’s best friend in high school. It hadn’t been as long ago as some wished to think. “I know,” he replied softly, watching him. “‘Sorry’ never does anything, but sometimes it isn’t the words that soothe. It’s the tone.” He felt like he really didn’t need to tell Gray that, like Gray already knew, but he also felt that silence would just cause the general mood of the scene to drop into the freezing part of hell. “How long had you two known each other?” Even if it hurt, he wanted to keep her memory alive.

[/font][/justify]

[ TAG ]

[/color] [ Polabear && Gray ]
[ WORD COUNT ][/color] [ 7 8 7 ]
[ OUTFIT ][/color] [ gray suit and blue tie ]
[ SETTING ][/color] [ academy library ]
[ SONG ][/color] [ “picture” by kid rock ]
[ NOTES ][/color] [ and it’s finally up >> ][/blockquote][/blockquote][/font][/blockquote]

[GRAYSON TUCKER SCHULTZ]

Heartbreak. Was that what it was? A heart could not physically break into two symmetrical pieces, jagged edges that fit perfectly with one another when pushed back together. No, that was just a representation of the pain you felt. The tightness in your chest, the constriction of your throat, the weakness tugging at the back of your knees to slump into the nearest chair and mourn. Grayson had never experienced something so jolting and it was difficult to grasp at the right words and the right thoughts. He wanted to cry. That was what he wanted to do. He was not an emotional man by any means; the most he's ever truly felt in terms of sadness was when he watched Michaelangelo first deal with his illness. A helpless, hopeless feeling that left you floundering on the shore. The same feelings wracked his insides now, but grief and regret stacked themselves on top in a wobbly tower of emotion that he could not seem to keep still.

Maybe allowing it to topple over would be better than trying to keep up a stoic facade that anyone could probably see through at this point.

Eyes slowly drifted up to look at the other man, not quite sure what to say. He remembered? How did he remember something from so many years ago? Grayson blinked a few times--looking less like he was thinking and more like he was holding back an onslaught of feelings towards the loss of Aurora--and tried to think back to high school. To the people he met. The ones he talked to, even on occasion. It was like his mind was flipping through the files of his life to find the appropriate information. Maybe that's why Fabian's name sounded so--

Oh.

Oh.

He did recall meeting a man Aurora was dating at the time, someone who looked a lot like the man sitting before him now. Even when you have a good memory it's easy to forget, especially when they were willed away with as much vigor as one could muster. He did not want to remember that his best friend had found someone else, because at the time the awkward Thunder had found himself infatuated by her. There were pangs of jealousy and anger that he did not want to feel towards Aurora; after all, she was one of the few people who willingly stood by his side. After a time Grayson let it all go. Maybe a little too much. He would not admit to forgetting and so merely gave a numb nod instead. God, how he wanted to sit in a corner and sob.

"It still doesn't feel like enough," Grayson replied quietly, head allowing gravity to tug it back down towards the counter. If only he had been around. If only he hadn't allowed himself to drift away. He did it with a lot of people, and quite frequently, but best friends should not have such loose tethers. Never. Why did it feel like the weight Fabian carried was now on his shoulders? It was painful. "Years," Was the short, feeble reply. Words were difficult. Her death felt real, yet surreal at the same time. He swallowed. "She really loved you, you know. Always talked about you. She was happy, and that was good." That was probably harder to say than anything else but he managed. Did Fabian need the reassurance? Maybe not but Grayson was just trying to offer up whatever he could. "H-how..." His voice finally broke. "How did she die?"

[FABIAN ZACHARIAH XYLANDER]

“Sorry is never enough,” he whispered, staring straight ahead at nothing. Aurora was a hole in his ehart filled with memories and love and pain and just that insane desire to see her again. God, he missed her. He missed her so much. He missed her smile, the way she used to wrap her arms around his shoulders and kiss the tip of his nose because she loved him. He missed the sound of her voice. How she’d tease him for getting lost a block away from their apartment. God, he needed to stop thinking about that. He ran both his hands over his face, no caring that Gray might see that small part of his inner breakdown. It was hard enough thinking about her. Now he was supposed to talk about her. “But sometimes it has to be.” That was just… it was nearly cruel. “Sometimes there’s nothing more you can say,” he added, still not looking at the man on the other side of the counter.

Similarly, it was nearly cruel as the professor started talking about her. She loved him. He’d hope so. She wouldn’t have married him otherwise, would she? He hoped not. He’d loved her so much. That was why he hurt so much now. That was why he missed her. Had she really talked about him to others? What had she said about him? God, he hoped she’d been happy. If she died happy, he couldn’t ask for anything else. He just wished… what was the point in wishing? There was no way to move back in time. There was no way to get over what had happened. He didn’t know what to do without her, though. He had to move on, but that was hard. She was so omnipresent in his memories and thoughts that it seemed… blasphemous to try and replace her with another woman. At least emotionally. She would understand the physical needs. She had always been so understanding.

Not like him. She was so much nicer than he had ever been. She could hold her own if they ever got into arguments, and he’d loved that about her. He’d loved pretty much everything about her. What wasn’t there to love? Sure, maybe someone found it irritating that she sang opera in the shower. Maybe someone couldn’t stand the way she always forgot to put at last one sock in the washing machine and then freaked out because she thought she’d lost it when the laundry was done. Maybe they’d find her voice annoying. The thing was, he hadn’t. He’d thought those things were adorable. It amused him to no end that she always forgot the sock. He didn’t mind learning more about opera. He’d even sing along sometimes, under his breath while he was reading. It was intimate and it was sweet and he wanted to have something like that again, but finding a connection like that… it wouldn’t be easy, especially because it required the destruction of an already existing one. He didn’t have to get rid of her memories, no, but he had to move past them, and that would be impossible.

Fabian cleared his throat, as uncomfortable with the question about her death as he was about anything surrounding the event. He coughed into his hand, trying to cover for himself, trying to buy himself time. Say anything. But there was no point in lying. He took a deep breath. “She had to go into surgery. It was supposed to be routine, but something went wrong and… and she bled out on the table. He took another deep breath. He could still see the doctor in front of him, delivering the news he never thought he’d get. He was supposed to be waiting for her to walk out, stumbling from anesthesia maybe, and he’d had every intention of taking her out for ice cream because he knew she wasn’t a big fan of going to the doctor’s. She’d hated being sick.

[/font][/justify]

[ TAG ]

[/color] [ Polabear && Gray ]
[ WORD COUNT ][/color] [ 6 6 4 ]
[ OUTFIT ][/color] [ gray suit and blue tie ]
[ SETTING ][/color] [ academy library ]
[ SONG ][/color] [ “picture” by kid rock ]
[ NOTES ][/color] [ oh the feels in Fabi’s head Dx ][/blockquote][/blockquote][/font][/blockquote]

[GRAYSON TUCKER SCHULTZ]

Grayson watched helplessly as Fabian stared off into nothing, his words stinging. No, it wasn't enough and never would be. That was painfully true. In that moment he wished someone could hold him up, the selfish part of him unable to cope with the fact that one of his dearest friends was gone. He knew the sorts of effects emotional strain could have on the body, but he also hoped that he'd never have to be the one dealing with it. Would sleep even come easy that night? Would he toss and turn, unable to rid himself of the image of Aurora's face from so many years ago? His chest hurt. It felt heavy. Not to mention the insanely tight knot that wrapped around every organ in his body. He hated that Fabian was right. Sometimes there was nothing more to be said.

The memories were there now, lingering in the forefront of his mind like an itch he could not scratch. The first time they met, the first time she ever protected him. He was big on doing things for himself and was very capable of fighting his own battles but when she stepped in he found himself unable to get upset. No one ever cared much for his existence except for Mickey and his family, which was a very small circle in comparison to the friends he could have had if he just pulled himself out of the shell he created. Then Aurora came along and he felt things shift a little. A good shift. Of course falling for her was not in his plans and then when Fabian came into the picture he did not quite feel adequate. After that, Grayson drifted away from her and just about everyone else, delving further into his studies. He claimed it to be his desire to make friends with books over people, and while that was true the reason behind it wasn't as simple as he led it to be. Emotions were too painful. He didn't like dealing with them. Burying one's head in a book was infinitely safer. Unfortunately the one thing he thought would protect him ultimately caused more suffering.

"Oh," The response was quiet, distant, solemn. His heart ached for the loss, face reflecting the pain with a quick swipe of the hand over his eyes. It hurt. A silent sniffle wrinkled his nose for a brief moment before fingers met the very edge of his eye. An attempt at holding back emotion, the pressure keeping him from shedding tears. "She was a beautiful person." He commented, not usually one to say something like that about another. However, the statement was true. Aurora was...had been...a beautiful person inside and out and not many people reached that image in his eyes. Still, bitterness of the past aside, he felt for Fabian and was again at a loss for what to do. Unsure of what else to do, with weak knees he walked around the counter and placed a hand on the other man's shoulder. He gave it a gentle squeeze. "Maybe it's best to leave for the night," Grayson suggested, voice almost meek. "Would..." He paused, not usually one to suggest things but went ahead anyway. "Would you like a drink? Might help a little." Nothing erased emotional pain permanently but alcohol was the perfect numbing solution even if it were just for a couple of hours. He could call Trent's caretaker and ask her to stay a while longer.

[I had this song on repeat while writing. It suits the situation pretty well, I think.]

[FABIAN ZACHARIAH XYLANDER]

The words weren’t meant to hurt. They were just honest. Sorry wasn’t enough. It was just a word, one that was used far too often to have true meaning casually. It could be sarcastic, t could be hurtful, it could be insincere. He could remembered that he’d heard once “apologize” was from some Greek or Latin root that meant “to defend” or something along those lines, because you were supposed to defend the wrong or hurtful action you had committed, the words you had said, the care you had neglected to give. But then, he could be entirely wrong. He wasn’t exactly a dictionary. He could look it up later, if he needed to satisfy lasting curiosity.

Maybe… maybe he’d just have a drink and to go sleep, wake up with a hangover because he wouldn’t be able to stick to one glass, and come in to work with sunglasses, a pillow, and a hangover. The desk wasn’t too bad a place to nap—or he could hide in the reference shelves where next to no one ever went except for the occasional graduate student. He could say he forgot to unlock the front door and sleep it off.

Ridiculous. He wouldn’t be that irresponsible. He shouldn’t be that irresponsible.

A hand came onto his shoulder and he had to mentally rewind. Aurora was a beautiful person. She was. Dear lord, he hated that past tense. He hated that he couldn’t really say “she is a beautiful person.” He doubted that her ashes were very happy where they were, in the urn on his desk. That urn itself was pretty, but the ashes were just that odd gray powder within it He couldn’t bear to look at them again, thinking that her whole, her lovely being, had really been reduced to that tiny bit of weight. It was ridiculous and rather… incredibly depressing. It was hard to add that onto everything else surrounding the situation. Not only was she dead, but her death was a constant reminder in that form of the otherwise harmless bit of dust and powder. Her ashes weren’t really her, after all. They were her former physical vessel, if you believe in that sort of thing.

“Drink,” he repeated absently, blinking up at Gray as he tried to separate his plans of irresponsibility from the reality of the current situation.

First, there was shock. He had never thought of Grayson as the sort of person to drink with a colleague after work hours had passed. The studious man just hadn’t struck him as such, what with his limited mannerisms and passion for learning, but then they didn’t know each other terribly well.

Second, there was relief. He didn’t need to drink himself to complete foolishness alone. Drinking was more fun with others anyway, especially when they weren’t complete strangers. He and Gray might not know each other well, but they would still get along better than Fabian was likely to with someone he’d never seen before. He was inclined to like Gray as it stood currently anyway.

He nodded. “A drink. Sure. Let’s do that.”

Fabian pushed his chair back and stood, realizing only then how close it brought them. He blinked at the hair in front of his nose and eyeline. He was accustomed to people being shorter than he. The average height for men and women was below 6 feet, even if he was just barely above that. It wasn’t typical that someone was just barely shorter than him, but shorter nonetheless. Or maybe it was that he wasn’t usually this close to people—close enough to see just how closely they measure up to him physically. Not since Aurora’s death had he been this close to someone.

Pulling his jacket off the back of the chair and donning it allowed him to recompose himself. It was a drink with a colleague, something to enjoy and relax during. He glanced at the professor. “Don’t forget your books,” he reminded calmly, nodding to the desk quickly in an attempt to draw attention away from himself. He wanted away from the horridly depressing topic at hand as well, and the minor change would hopefully assist them. So, being a bit blunt, he requested, “We should change subjects while we’re at it. Why are you looking into psychology? I thought you were the bio professor.” What a marvel. He was being helpful in conversation at the same time. Or he was just being mentally sarcastic due to the lasting depression. You couldn’t be entirely sure.

[/font][/justify]

[ TAG ]

[/color] [ Polabear && Gray ]
[ WORD COUNT ][/color] [ 7 5 8 ]
[ OUTFIT ][/color] [ gray suit and blue tie ]
[ SETTING ][/color] [ academy library ]
[ SONG ][/color] [ “picture” by kid rock ]
[ NOTES ][/color] [ I guess handwriting works rather well for this baby. I need to try it for my other ones xD ][/blockquote][/blockquote][/font][/blockquote]

[GRAYSON TUCKER SCHULTZ]

The man stood there, hand on Fabian's shoulder as he waited for a response. He was oblivious to the mental strain the other man was under, the thought processes he dealt with. To drink himself into oblivion or be responsible, a debate Grayson never held with himself on any given occasion. He did not know what would happen should he allow his senses to be completely dulled by alcohol and, to an extent, it made him nervous. Still, the hand slid away from his colleague when he finally responded and took a step back, not quite sure whether that was a positive or negative reply. He wasn't good with feelings of any sort and this was no exception. The offer still stood and since Fabian had yet to fully deny it he stood there waiting. To an extent he felt it was the least he could do for bringing up Aurora, for aiding in pouring salt into the wound. His own wounds existed now, an emptiness in his heart that yearned to be filled, but as with everything he shoved it all away and focused on other things. She was gone and no amount of intense mourning could bring her back. His eyes still hurt, though. Refraining from an emotional break down took more out of him than he realized.

"Okay then. It'll be my treat." Grayson said quietly, adding a nod for emphasis. "Is there a place you prefer?" Honestly, any place that offered alcohol would be best at this point but he was not so well acquainted with Fabian that he knew of any preferences, should any exist.

Then, came the close encounter.

His colleague stood up and, in that motion, came close to his person. Close enough where moving forward a few inches would place them right against one another. He swallowed. Blue-gray eyes darted up just enough to catch a glimpse of Fabian's and felt his mind halt entirely. His neck felt a little warm, arms frozen in place, feet rooted to the spot. This wasn't something he experienced often and Grayson felt a bit out of his element. Being in close proximity to people in general was difficult but when the man standing before him seemed to make him flustered beyond normal he was not able to function as he should. Why did his neck feel warm? Why did he want to break eye contact? In that thought, he dropped his gaze and fought clearing his throat. Instead he merely stepped back enough to allow Fabian to get his coat.

The reminder was greatly appreciated considering his mind was in disarray and he nodded. Damn. What just happened? He ran a hand through his hair before picking up the books and cradling them under his left arm. Caught up in the flurry of strange feelings, he nearly forgot to call the house. "Do you mind if I use the phone?" Grayson asked quickly, waiting for approval before leaning over the desk and dialing his home. That was one downfall of not having a cellphone. After chatting with Trent's caretaker for a moment--being sure to leave out the details of the situation--he hung up and made way to the library exit. "Agreed," He replied quietly. The previous subject was painful and heart wrenching, a group of feelings he wanted to avoid as much as possible. A few glasses of wine or a shot or two could help. The inquiry about psychology was much easier to discuss. "I have lived in the world of factual science for so long, I think it's time I branch out a little and delve into something new." Not only for the benefit of knowledge but for his own gain. Socially distant wasn't going to suit him forever. It cost him a good friend in the end, and he might be missing out on other aspects of life too. Things he was still ignorant of.

When they arrived at the bar, Grayson felt hesitant before pulling the door open and allowing Fabian to enter first. He offered to drive just in case, knowing that he had no intentions of overdoing his alcohol intake that evening. His colleague might considering the situation and in all honesty the man couldn't blame him. Not in the least. There was a faint huff as he sat down at the bar and folded his hands together, glancing at Fabian. "Order whatever you'd like."

[FABIAN ZACHARIAH XYLANDER]

He hoped that Gray wouldn’t regret the offer to treat him. He wasn’t necessarily a drunk, but he could sometimes go a bit overboard when he missed Aurora. He’d drunk occasionally before she’d died, yes, when things had been bad or if they’d had a fight, but it had gotten worse since then. He knew it wasn’t healthy. He knew he ought to stop. He knew his nightly glass of wine was probably opening the gateway to heavier drinking on a more frequent schedule than he did already. A little of something made it easier to have a lot of that something. A little alcohol could lead to a lot. A little fun could lead to a lot of danger or a equal amount of trouble. Hopefully, Gray would stop him before he got carried away, even if they were both in this horrible state of depression and loss and heartbreak. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He loved Aurora, but she was just hurting him right now. No more pain. No more emotional stress. He took a deep breath.

“No, there isn’t a place I prefer,”

[/color] he murmured after a moment, thinking he’d be fine as long as it wasn’t crowded. Any place that had alcohol would suffice tonight, no matter who would see them there. They were just colleagues having a drink after work. Teachers and school faculty had personal lives. Everyone who had a job did. He didn’t know why students sometimes found that hard to believe of teachers. He’d read a children’s book once—a long time ago, but he remembered it for its odd story—in which an elementary teacher never actually left the school The woman sat at her desk all through the night and waited for her students to return. He couldn’t imagine doing that himself, even in the library. He’d be so bored, doing nothing. It did make him curious, however, as to what Gray did after school, after work. It was none of his business, of course. The phone call probably had something to do with it. “No, I don’t mind.”[/color] A lot of negative responses. They needed something positive. To cheer them both up.

If the alcohol didn’t work, that is.

He leaned against the counter, closing his eyes and trying not to eavesdrop on the phone conversation. It was none of his business. Grayson’s life was none of his business and it probably never would be. They weren’t close friends. Maybe the drinks would change that. Maybe the drinks wouldn’t.

He didn’t know enough about psychology to determine such a thing. Brain chemistry wasn’t one of his strong suits. “Why psychology, of all the sciences out there?”[/color] He supposed it was related to biology and maybe he just wanted to stay somewhat close to something he was already knowledgeable about. “Not that it isn’t interesting.”[/color] It was, contrary to his earlier absentmindedness. He felt he was perfectly justified in it, though, distracted as he had been by dead eyes following him as they shouldn’t. He rolled his shoulders, trying to get his mind off that, to something more interesting. Back to psychology and alcohol and a personal life.

Fabian sat down beside Grayson at the bar, taking another deep breath and feeling repetitive for trying to calm himself in the same manner again and again. If it needed to be done again, it probably hadn’t worked the first time, and thus wouldn’t likely work the second or third. He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his glasses, requesting a nameless red wine from the bartender, curious what Grayson would order. He felt sufficiently nosy, so he might as well ask. “So, what was the phone call about, if you don’t mind my asking?”[/color] Conversation needed to keep flowing anyway.[/blockquote][/font][/justify]

[ TAG ]

[/color] [ Polabear && Gray ]
[ WORD COUNT ][/color] [ 6 3 4 ]
[ OUTFIT ][/color] [ gray suit and blue tie ]
[ SETTING ][/color] [ academy library to bar ]
[ SONG ][/color] [ “picture” by kid rock ]
[ NOTES ][/color] [ this feels like a very transitionary post >> << ][/blockquote][/blockquote][/font][/blockquote]

[GRAYSON TUCKER SCHULTZ]

Grayson nodded in comprehension. He was somewhat relieved that he didn't have a place of preference; he did not drink often and so driving around to random bars was not ideal, especially considering the fact that he would have to find his way home eventually. The thought of regretting the offer to Fabian did not even cross his mind at his point. Right now, considering the emotional strain they had both been through, alcohol sounded superb. He did not even dwell on the fact that the other man might indulge a little more than he himself would. It wasn't his business anyway. Would he stop Fabian from overdoing it? Most likely. He was not a nosy person by nature but he sure as hell wouldn't leave someone to drown in alcohol. Some people had died from things like that. The last thing Grayson needed was another dead person weighing on his conscience.

While on the phone, he glanced up long enough to catch sight of his colleague; if the main focus were not chatting with his brother's aid, he would have furrowed his brows in concern. Aurora's death seemed to leave a huge, gaping wound on both of them. Grayson did not even know what to do now other than going out for drinks. "Sorry" didn't cut it at this point. Nothing did.

Perhaps getting a little tipsy would take the edge off, like taking pain killers or anesthetic.

Sure, the two were acquainted and chatted on occasion when Grayson came through to check out a book or two, but he was not anticipating the inquiries about his future choice of study. When your friends were hermit crabs and one or two of your graduated students, there was plenty of room for conversational surprises like this. He shrugged. "Because it's different. Most of my sciences are fact based and have solidified proof to back up its existence, whereas psychology has multiple options for why a person has one particular emotion or does a particular action. The inner workings of the human mind are quite fascinating." There was little he was familiar with in terms of dealing with other human beings and studying the hows and whys were probably a good way to start. Grayson did not want a multitude of friends but understanding others and being able to deal with them would certainly be nice. "Something new to add to my degrees on the wall, as well." Explaining why he wanted the degree seemed superfluous and left it at that. Fabian could always ask if he were interested but the man was not one to divulge the little details on his own.

The alcohol was pungent as it seeped into his nostrils, leaving a slight taste in his mouth. Fabian ordered wine; would that be a wise choice for himself as well? It all tasted the same in the end, really. At least it did to him. He ordered a rum and coke before sitting back in the elevated chair. The room wasn't as noisy as it could have been. His eyes trained on the bartender, Fabian's question caused him to start. "Oh," That was unexpected. He tried to come up with a good reason to refuse an answer but nothing came to mind. Grayson leaned forward again. That rum and coke could not come fast enough now. "About my brother," Was the short answer before he decided to continue. "I had to let his aid know that I would be late tonight. I asked if she would stay a couple of extra hours." The topic was not particularly sensitive in some ways, but he always feared someone would judge Trent for his disability. "Ah, thank you." The bartender delivered the drinks; they honestly could not have arrived at a more opportune time.

[FABIAN ZACHARIAH XYLANDER]

There was a reason people went to alcohol when they were troubled. Alcohol was like morphine—just as addictive, but nearly as good a servant to killing pain temporarily. He wasn’t looking for any permanent solution. It felt like permanently getting rid of the pain was like getting rid of the memories. No pain, no record of Aurora, and while living with the first was difficult, living without the second was impossible to consider. He loved the woman. He loved her, but he needed to move on. Alcohol helped him do that. Even if it sometimes led to events he regretted because he sometimes overdid the painkilling.

Hopefully, Gray would help the conversation enough to make him not overdo the alcoholic part of tonight’s medicine. Besides, new friends were always good, right? Maybe they could be friends. It would probably be good for him, finding a member of the faculty to talk to about things other than work. The fact that they knew each other from a very long time ago, even if they’d met only once or twice and then only briefly, helped. The fact that they shared heart-wrenching pain (for Grayson had looked quite upset as he himself) only shoved them. People connected when they shared things, even when those things hurt more than anything he could imagine. Losing Aurora was like ripping off a limb or carving out his intestines with a rusty spoon. He shuddered a little at the thought and was glad when the professors started answering his question.

“So part of it’s that you like the uncertainty,” he presumed, lifting an eyebrow. It wasn’t something he heard often. In the academic setting, it seemed natural for the inhabitants to want to explain everything they couldn’t. That was why some people went in search of knowledge—to explain things. You just had to explain things to make yourself feel safe. But not wanting to know if you were right…. that was singular. “I guess so. And maybe when you get your doctorate in psychology, you’ll be able to cure and prevent PTSD and depression and schizophrenia and bipolar disorder and whatever else makes people wish they’d never been troubled.” The approach was more blase than was probably polite, but he couldn’t be entirely serious right now. Serious meant opening himself up to renewed depression that he was just barely starting to forget about. “What sort of degrees do you have already?” he asked curiously, saving himself from the choice of being “nosy” by justifying that such an accomplishment was not something to be embarrassed about in any way.

He sipped the wine the minute it touched the counter-top, taking a gulp or tow before placing it down. The liquid went down his throat so quickly he barely tasted it. He would slow down now that he wasn’t waiting for it anymore. A glass or two or five or ten would probably end up with him shit-faced but feeling a little better.

Rum and coke wasn’t something he’d tried before. He was more of a fan of wine than he was of most other spirits. He supposed he’d tried rum on its own at some point in his life, but he couldn’t remember. He’d stuck with wine for the most part since. There were so many variations of wine anyway, and so many rumors that a glass before bed was good for his heart anyway, even if he over did it and that was more dangerous than beneficial. What more was there to say? Nothing. Maybe he’d ask for a sip just to try when his drink arrived.

But until then, it was indeed time to be nosy, but he wasn’t tipsy enough to lose all tact quite yet. “Am I allowed to ask why he needs an aid?” He lifted an eyebrow, turning in his stool to face Grayson more fully, focusing on this blend of grays over the others in the room. He only knew it was indeed red wine because it was opaque. What color was Gray’s hair? It was dark gray—probably brown or black. He doubted that it would be blond; even if there wasn’t much light now, there had been enough in the library to make him doubt the brightness severely. He didn’t know if red was an option. He hadn’t met enough redheads.

“Mind if I try?” He pointed to the rum and coke after Gray had taken his first few swallows. “I haven’t had one before.”

[/font][/justify]

[ TAG ]

[/color] [ Polabear && Gray ]
[ WORD COUNT ][/color] [ 7 5 1 ]
[ OUTFIT ][/color] [ gray suit and blue tie ]
[ SETTING ][/color] [ academy library to bar ]
[ SONG ][/color] [ “picture” by kid rock ]
[ NOTES ][/color] [ there be posts -shift eyes- ][/blockquote][/blockquote][/font][/blockquote]

[GRAYSON TUCKER SCHULTZ]

Grayson thought for a second before shaking his head. He hated uncertainty. There were no solid answers and often times there were multiple, which for him made things difficult. People were complicated creatures. Did he want to try and learn how to handle uncertainty and the many different outcomes that came with dealing with people? Yes, which was why he decided to act on the urge and get that degree. As to how well it would go in the end, he was not sure. "Mm," He replied curtly at first, not quite sure how to respond to Fabian. This was exactly why he wanted to try his hand at psychology; he felt that maybe it would better his social skills. Maybe those were something gained from actually being around people though, not sitting in a classroom. "Cure entirely? I highly doubt that. Prevent in some cases? Maybe. I just want to understand people better is all." People were so unpredictable. Even he himself did things that others might not understand, but for him it was completely natural.

"I have a bachelors and masters in Biology, a bachelors in Anatomy, a bachelors in Teaching, and an associates in Math." He replied, a bit of pride edging his words. They were proud accomplishments that took time and hard work, especially when some had been clumped together. Teaching and Anatomy had been completed at the same time and the Math came after that. Biology, obviously, came first as it was Grayson's passion and the thing he enjoyed most. When life became complicated and hectic he jumped into his research. A good distraction.

Grayson watched as Fabian took his drink easily, taking several sips before gulping more. He'd never considered getting wasted to wash away his sorrows but tonight the temptation was dangling before him. As much as their brief conversations about degrees and other things were temporarily alleviating the guilt, it wasn't constant enough to erase it for the rest of the night. Aurora was officially gone now. There was no rectifying his disappearance and asking for forgiveness. All of that was unattainable now. It hurt. The drink could not have arrive quick enough.

And of course Fabian asked yet another question, one that he truly hesitated in answering. Discussing his degrees and interests of study were one thing, but his brother was something entirely different. People were, as he knew, unpredictable and he was unsure as to how others would respond to Trent. Still, maybe Fabian would be the understanding one and Grayson would have fretted for nothing. He let out a quiet sigh. "Of course you're allowed to ask," He replied, knowing it was mostly his fault for mentioning the aid in the first place. "Trent has Down Syndrome, so he requires extra care. Since I work quite a bit I have an aid to help him throughout the day." He was able to go to school and be with other children, but it was special education to ensure he received the proper attention. The aid cared for him any time he was home and Grayson was away. It worked well enough. Glad to have the explanation out of the way, he focused on his drink. It burned as it drifted down his throat, but the soda alleviated it soon after. Maybe he could manage having more than one tonight. It couldn't hurt.

After enjoying a few gulps of the drink, his eyes drifted towards Fabian when he asked to try it. "Oh, sure," Grayson said, sliding the drink towards his colleague. It was hit or miss with a lot of alcoholic drinks; either Fabian would enjoy it or he would wrinkle his nose and make note not to order one of his own accord in the future. He watched the other man intently, trying to think of something to say or a question to offer for conversation, but nothing pertinent came to mind. It might have been obvious by the look on his face that he was struggling.