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fandomhighdorms2007-08-20 04:33 pm
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The Roof; Early Monday Evening.
Ahh, yes, the roof. Excellent place to paint; even better place to think and try to work things out for A.J. It was always where he went at Empire, after all, and, while there wasn't a big neon sign to tinker with, there was an excellent view. Last night had ended...pretty well, and Superhero class was a fun distraction, and then A.J. tried to work a bit on a project, but couldn't focus. He had to try to figure out this whole Troy thing.
But the more he thought about it, the more impossible it seemed. Because while he liked what he had with Troy a lot, he didn't think he really wanted the something more that Troy seemed to want. In fact, the only person he could even begin to imagine something like that with was Corey...
But what could he tell Troy? Nothing, apparently, that A.J. wasn't going to say to himself first, because he was sitting there, talking to himself as he tried to figure it out.
"I still need more time, Troy," he tried, then grunted, shaking his head. "Yeah, right, that's only going to work for so..." He tried again. "Okay, so, Troy." He steeled himself to the imaginary image in front of him of his roommate. "You know, like, when they come out with a new flavor of ice cream, and you really like that new flavor, but there's an old classic that you can't stop going back to..."
"Ice cream? What the hell is my fixation with ice cream? Okay, no ice cream. Or maybe...because it's more like you just need time before the new flavor can be like the class-- Ugh, no, that's stupid. So maybe..."
"Paintings. Like modern art versus classical...yeah, there we go..."
A.J. gave another disgusted grunt. "That's stupid, too. God...maybe..."
He was going to be at this for a while probably...
[[ open like an open thing ]]
But the more he thought about it, the more impossible it seemed. Because while he liked what he had with Troy a lot, he didn't think he really wanted the something more that Troy seemed to want. In fact, the only person he could even begin to imagine something like that with was Corey...
But what could he tell Troy? Nothing, apparently, that A.J. wasn't going to say to himself first, because he was sitting there, talking to himself as he tried to figure it out.
"I still need more time, Troy," he tried, then grunted, shaking his head. "Yeah, right, that's only going to work for so..." He tried again. "Okay, so, Troy." He steeled himself to the imaginary image in front of him of his roommate. "You know, like, when they come out with a new flavor of ice cream, and you really like that new flavor, but there's an old classic that you can't stop going back to..."
"Ice cream? What the hell is my fixation with ice cream? Okay, no ice cream. Or maybe...because it's more like you just need time before the new flavor can be like the class-- Ugh, no, that's stupid. So maybe..."
"Paintings. Like modern art versus classical...yeah, there we go..."
A.J. gave another disgusted grunt. "That's stupid, too. God...maybe..."
He was going to be at this for a while probably...
[[ open like an open thing ]]
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Part of him was tempted to add like me, but he didn't. He didn't like that he even thought it. It made him start to feel like he wasn't doing this so much because he cared for Annette but because he wanted Annette to care about him...
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"Listen to me carrying on. It's not about me."
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He stopped himself there. He wanted to go on to say that he hoped he helped, but he didn't want to assume, and he didn't want to find out that maybe he wasn't helping at all.
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"Thanks, A.J., for being here... " Annette's head moved back as she raised her hand to take a drink.
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Guess the rum won. It sucked losing to fucking rum. Rum didn't even taste all that great.
"Yeah," he said, quietly, closing himself off with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders lifted. "No...no problem..." He forced a pitiful attempt at a smile. "Anytime."
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And now he had to decide how to answer. He could be honest, but he didn't want to get hit with that feeling of rejection again. He could lie, but he'd feel bad about lying to her. Or he could try to figure out why she was even asking that and decide from there which way she wanted him to answer. He let out a soft breath that seeme dlike it might have been trying to be a laugh. "What kind of question is that?" he asked, quietly, more confused than anything else.
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But she wanted to know. She needed to know. It was this feeling, this pull inside of her and she just had to know if he thought the same things she did. And damn if that wasn't wrong...
Her bottle slipped from her fingers and she reached out quickly, trying to grab it before it could crash to the ground below.
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The movement of the bottle caught his eye enough to turn, and he saw it falling, saw Annette reaching for it, and saw a possible outcome of shattered glass and cut fingers, and spurred into action, reaching for her waist to pull her back before that could happen. "Annette!"
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"I'm managed to ruin everything about this night and probably just made yours miserable. Dammit."
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Then she turned around and looked up at him. "I'm sorry for that question. I didn't mean to put you on the spot. I don't need to know what you think about that, especially if you never think about that and...yeah. I probably need rest." Funny how she didn't feel tired at all.
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...not like this. "Get some rest," he offered again. "And we can talk when you're feeling better, okay?"
With a small smile, he decided he could allow at least something. He lifted his head enough to give her a small, light kiss on her forehead.
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For her, in this moment, it wasn't enough though and when she opened her eyes she searched his. Leaning up, she slowly brought her face towards his and moved to kiss his cheek, it was just more the corner of his mouth...
"I'll go now," she whispered against his skin. Because if she didn't... No. No thinking anymore... "Good night, A.J."
(bed for me! night!)
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But she was just trying to kiss his cheek. She just...missed, right, because she'd had too much rum and her depth perception was probably off. He lightly settled a hand on the back of her head.
"Sleep well, Annette."