Staring at a blank canvas and nothing coming to my mind. IT SUCKS! I throw my head back and groan like Mordecai from Regular Show. Erik looks to me from the couch.
"Something wrong, my young friend?" I glare at him.
"Of course something is wrong. I got into Drama Three, which is freaking awesome! That's gunna look good on a college resume. But Drama Three lead to me getting cast into Annie, which took up ALL of my time for a month and a half. I enjoyed it, but it took up all my time and I wasn't able to write and now I'm out of my groove. And now I'm back to this, my long deleted Phantom of the Opera/any other Gerard Butler character parody. I need to work on Mended Hearts. I wrote this awesome chapter earlier, I want to type it, but my ADHD kicks in and it's all like 'HEY DO THIS INSTEAD OF THIS!' And I'm all like, 'But ADHD I have to do this!' And my ADHD comes back and it's like 'But dude, this thing over here is FUN!' And every time, without fail I go do that other thing. It annoys the FIRE out of me!" I tell him. He chuckles.
"At least this one is going to be more dry humor between probably you me, and what you call 'my cosmic brother' Dracula, instead of a desperate plea for attention from a distressed and troubled middle schooler. You have to admit. That was God awful." Erik says, scratching his thumbnail as he stares at the ceiling. He's laying nonchalantly on his back on my new amazingly comfy couch while I'm sitting in the chair next to him with the Walking Dead is playing on TV. I don't typically watch it. I was in my room upstairs being completely and utterly bored. I was going to write a Supernatural fanfiction but my stupid ADHD came back and was like 'HEY, let's rewrite you Phantom of the Opera Parody!' and without fail I was like. 'Okay, fine. It'll be better this time. It won't be fuelled by sugar highs and uncontrolled ADHD. Even though it was inspired by it.
I give a huff, sending Erik a 'thanks for the reminder you snarky son of a bitch' I span my hands out over my keyboard briefly and tick my eyebrows.
"Yeah, it was pretty bad. Middle school is pure evil." Erik scoffs
"It could be worse. I could still be the ridiculously love struck and rather… well, how should I put it…. Moronic man you wrote me as when you were younger." He tells me. I nod.
"Yeah, that was pretty bad." I laugh, "Remember when I forced you to listen to modern day music? God that was horrible. The entire thing was just one big huge horrible ball of chaos and poor writing. What should I do with this one? I'm thinking just hanging out with you and Dracula on occasion could show some promise, but I still need to do other stuff." I ask him. Erik gives a hum and finally looks at me. I swoon at those perfect eyes.
"You belong to Constance, stop doing that." I tell him. He smiles. I knit my brows at him poking my bottom lip out.
"Quit!" I yell. He laughs, I stare at the opposing wall in a pouting fashion that I promise I will work on describing. It will get better.
"Stop pouting dearest, how old are you now, seventeen?" He asks.
"Yes, I am seventeen now. I can act however I like, deal with it. And don't call me dearest either. You can only call Constance dearest." I reply, he returns his gaze to his hands.
"Alright, you do what you will." He tells me. I turn my gaze to the screen, reading the number of words I have, its six hundred and fifty four now. I need more.
"My feet are cold." I mutter.
"Then put on socks, Ian. I don't see why you don't just use your real name." He says. I jolt to look at him in my seat, pounding my fists on the arms of the chair.
"Because I wish to remain an enigma!" I yell at him. He laughs again. I purse my lips in irritation.
"Oh, I know, why don't you tell your readers about your friend last night?" Erik asks.
"No! It isn't my fault she judges people because they make a mistake." I tell him in irritation. I'll tell you guys anyways. So I had two friends over yesterday and I finally showed my friend Mariah Phantom of the Opera after she thought the entire musical is a freaking opera. She likes Raoul and automatically determined that Erik was just this complete monster after he pushes Christine to the ground after she unmasked him the first time. I admit, the dude is a complete maniac! But still! She wouldn't listen. I kept trying to explain to her but she kept interrupting me and I was starting to get loud and my brother and mother yell at me for having a 'bad attitude.' I was so mad! She freaking loves a character from my original story that is completely evil! He freaking rapes the heroine (it got edited out of the final cut) kills in the most brutal ways and is just an all-around DICKHEAD. And she excuses it because it's his 'nature.' Well reacting the way Erik is natural to him and she doesn't see it…
It drove me nuts. But I made her put her STUPID PHONE DOWN SO SHE COULD WATCH THE FINAL LAIR SCENE and she didn't hate him anymore. But still… She was playing with that thing THE WHOLE MOVIE. But once we started watching Sherlock Holmes I calmed down and apologized for being a raving lunatic. Erik looks at me.
"You told them anyways?" He asks. I glower at him.
"Shut up." I tell him.
"Writing in this style is hard. I'm used to telling a story after it's happened, but switching to telling it as it happens is kind of hard for me." I say.
"Well you're the one who decided to write it like this." Erik says. I sigh once more and fall silent, having drawn a blank. I prop my elbow on the couch arm and rest my chin on the heel of my hand. I bite my lip and pull on a moistened strip of skin on my lip and have an internal pain freak out.
"You could bring in Constance or something. I believe you did that with Jaclyn with the first story." Erik tells me, finally sensing the absence of the 'tat tat tat' of my typing. I laugh.
"You're such a man whore." I say. He gives me a strange look.
"What in bloody hell are you talking about?" He asked. I laugh again and let my hands fall away from the keyboard and rest palms up at my hips.
"Dude, I have two different unopened Phantom of the Opera romance fanfictions about you getting in a relationship. There's Constance in the Hearts series and I have my version of Christine in Angels of the Dark, admit it. I made you into a man whore." I tell him, laughing hard. Erik gives me a glare.
"That's different." He says. I start laughing harder.
"Dude… what if I write a chapter where both Christine and Constance are here. It would totally be Jerry Springer up in here!" I tell him, barely able to speak through my laughter.
"Please, Ian, don't! We all know Constance would kill Christine!" Erik says tiredly, covering his face with his hands and heaving a heavy sigh. I laugh for about five minutes straight.
"Okay, Erik, I'll leave it up to the fans to decide. I'm sure they'll vote in your benefit." I tell him. Erik gives me a glare out of the corner of his eye.
"I don't know. I'm thinking about deleting AOTD. I don't want it to end like any other Modern Day POTO E/C fanfiction." I tell him. Erik shakes his head.
"It's your story." He tells me.
"Yeah… whatever. When I do bring in Constance, if I do, should it be preggers Constance or before preggers?" I ask. He glares at me.
"I would appreciate it if you don't call my wife 'preggers' again." He told me. I died laughing. 'Preggers' coming from Erik is freaking hilarious.
"I wouldn't mind chilling with my favorite redhead Irish. You know I've written the alternative to Shattered Hearts. Well actually the way it actually ended was the alternative. The original was you were going to disregard Constance and continue to pursue Christine. You would burn down the Opera House like in Phantom of the Opera, then Constance would go home to Ireland, you two would've met on the ship. Then a heat of the moment love session, the two of you go your own ways and she has your son. You get cursed with eternal life until a second Constance O'Rally saves you. But yeah… one of the readers caused me to write a happy ending." I tell him. Erik looks at me.
"If you weren't so easily swayed you would be a cold and cruel authoress, Ian." Erik tells me, sitting up. I shrug.
"I think I would've done it anyways." I say. He gives me a look; I return it, typing at the same time. I stop and huff. I do that A LOT when I write. I don't know why.
"I'm glad I decided to rewrite this. This could be fun. A nice change from my usual romance." I tell him with a smile.