Society
an: Um. Just a companion almost-drabble to Becki3's Blaise and Nott 'fics (which are freaking awesome and you should totally read them.) More specifically, to "I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight" and "No More I Love Yous". I
BlaisexNott. Blaise is dead, in case you're too lazy to read her fics, which pwn mine. An experiment with styles. Feedback you love me?
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He wasn't blind, nor deaf, but maybe they thought he was just stupid. Or maybe they were stupid, ignorant to the fact that he could see their looks, hear their whispers (Did you see the obituary? Just a name and a birthday! I wonder why he didn't–...) every time he stepped outside of the house. It was a small town; gossip spread like wildfire and took what seemed like forever to finally burn out and roll in its own ashes.
This gossip (he was found when? Which one was it, the one with the limp or the dark-headed one?), unfortunately, was a little heavier than the rest.
So the other boy had died. Sudden massive heart attack (or maybe it was a stroke, or bad drugs.. poison, murder, was it adultry? Suicide?) Quick, sharp, biting-- he had died in his friend's arms. (Lovers, I told you, I saw them at the store, and the way they walked together..)
They had expected him to move away (what was his name again? Simon? Oh, no, no, it's Theodore, you're thinking of the wrong Chipmunk), to give up and seek happier places (some time on the beach would do him good, don't you think? He's so pale.) but he'd proven them wrong. It was his new forte.
He hadn't spoken at the funeral (nervous, I bet, he looks like he's about to cry, poor thing) but just because he couldn't find the words, couldn't remember how to speak. Didn't want to speak (gimp, maybe he's got some kind of mental problem, too, you think?), but he exhaled all the words he needed to at night, arm curled around a pillow and talking to a warm face that wasn't there.