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cecilia
(new)
Aug 29, 2013 08:47PM
Stan had memorized a map of Cape Side at some point during the second semester of last year, so the black box would've been easy to find even if he hadn't had class in there last year. Stan had glanced into a few of the other classrooms, hoping to find something--someone, more likely--that would occupy his attention for a few minutes so he could gather up the patience to go meet his roommate. Though Stan wasn't quite willing to go do so, if he were honest. Last year, his roommate had been absolutely horrid, and Stan was horrified that this year would be a repeat. So, naturally, Stan went for the only place he felt safe, like he could be himself. That would be the black box, in which nothing from the outside world mattered. Honestly, though, Stan wasn't sure if he'd be able to tolerate having another roommate like Dustin, so he was putting his mind off it as long as possible.
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(view spoiler)Not even bothering to check the theatre for fellow occupants, Stan simply stood in the doorway and rested his head against its frame. He wasn't quite sure what he was doing here anymore, to be perfectly honest. Avoiding his roommate? Was Stan really so anxious about the possibility that his roommate would be horrible like last year that he didn't even try to pretend the opposite of such? Of course, the answer was yes. Stan was anxious enough that he didn't even bother to try and pretend to be the person everyone thought he was. Stan didn't want to think about people right then, he just wanted to drop any pretenses of being a jerk and unwind. Stan wasn't actually so rude, in reality. Pretending to be so was his way of keeping his weak inner emotions safe from outer harm, which had worked well enough over the years. After a moment in the door, the dark haired, bright eyed boy sat in an empty chair, put his feet up on the chair directly in front of him, and closed his eyes. Not really thinking, if he were honest. Just sitting.
(view spoiler)
Carmen had bee sitting in the theatre for a while. It was her second year here, but this room had never lost its wonder. For her it was an escape from the real world. She came here whenever she got the chance. Since she was done putting her stuff up (mostly) she had come.
(view spoiler)Stan had been so lost in thought that when the loud, soprano screech pierced the room, it took three whole seconds before he even looked up to search for the source of the disruption. The theatre had seemed empty before, though apparently Stan needed to learn to observe better; it was blatantly obvious that he'd missed someone hiding away somewhere. Stan mentally kicked himself--something the boy found himself doing often--because whoever was here would have noticed his unease, or whatever emotion it was that he was feeling. Stan finally managed to tear himself from his thoughts, glancing at the girl who'd fallen. "Skill much?" he asked simply, reaching back into his mind to find that inner jerk that always came with difficulty to play. "Were you spying on me? Is that why you were hiding?"
(view spoiler)Stan had been quite willing to be nice to someone for once, but when the girl spoke, all intentions of doing so went shooting out the window. He didn't know why, but Stan just really wasn't in the mood to be nice right then, though being mean wasn't exactly what he had in mind, either. "Observing?" he arched an eyebrow in disbelief, throwing his hands up in the air. "And I suppose that if someone were following you around shamelessly that you'd be okay if they said they were simply 'observing' you? Are you insane?" Stan felt a slight pang of remorse, though he didn't show it. The brunette boy often found that he was better off with people hating him than he would be if he had them for friends. All Stan ever felt he did was hurt people, so he tried not to feel bad about keeping them safer, better off, by keeping them away from him.
(view spoiler)"Bad mood?" Stan questioned, looking up at the girl, irritation plain in his gorgeous blue eyes. "Please, you haven't seen anything. And don't start wordplay with me! My point is, do you really find the need to watch me shamelessly? I'm a person, and you don't have to pay attention to a thing that I do, nor do I want you to! Why won't you just leave me alone?" Stan rolled his gorgeous eyes, scoffing. "I don't care where you were, it's a matter of where you are now. And right now, you're really bothering me." Stan sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. "Sunshine? Just shut up. Can you do that? It's when you don't say anything. You should really try it sometime."
Stan couldn't stand this girl; it was official. The amused yet somehow bored expression, the easy way she teased him, Stan hated it. He'd been at least attempting to be nice earlier, maybe give it ten minutes before he started being a jerk again. After all, he was in a place of theatre, the one time it even crossed Stan's tortured mind to be kind in any way, shape or form. As always, it didn't even cross his mind that maybe she was trying to annoy him and that he shouldn't rise to the bait; Stan was adamant to the idea that he was the only one who ever really thought about things like that. Stan put it above other people to think about things, plot things out. That was just a result of the fact that he was always exposed to idiots when he was a child, he didn't quite know what it was like to meet someone who could actually think. Most of the kids he knew didn't seem to have heads. "You were playing with words. Using a nicer, softer word in place of the truth. That's playing with words. Of course, I wouldn't expect a ginger to know that. Gingers tend to be dull." Stan leaned back in his chair, clearly irritated. Irritated Stan always ended poorly for those unfortunate enough to be there. Even though he was trying to start fresh here, he couldn't stand obnoxious people. How his siblings were still entirely intact, Stan had absolutely no idea. "I'm not going away. Ever. I happen to like it here, and it's the one possible place I'll even consider keeping my nice side out. For you, though, I'm not going to keep being so nice." (view spoiler) "Besides, I have siblings, too, and look, I'm capable of shutting up. You're probably just incapable of something else, and you're using your talking to disguise it." Stan ignored her use of the word 'sunshine.' He was getting tired of fighting; he'd just gotten through arguing with Renly, but he wouldn't back down.
"Anti stereotypes? I have no doubt that you've already stereotyped me, so I have no trouble doing the same." Stan gave a nonchalant shrug, not even thinking twice about his words. Why should he? He was speaking the truth; everyone stereotyped him before realizing that he was just the same as everyone else. Only scarred... "Utterly stupid... I can work with that, too," Stan didn't quite care that she admitted she was stupid, she was probably right if she'd go as far as to admit it. He didn't really care what she thought, either, so he wasn't sure why he'd accepted what she said without second thought, but if she was going to call herself stupid, who was he to tell her otherwise? Stan had been about to open his mouth and say something rude, borderline mean, when he heard her mumble something. Found out about what? Despite the fact that Stan was a jerk, he wasn't a total and complete *sshole, so he left it be. Being quite the secretkeeper himself, Stan knew when he could and couldn't pry, could and couldn't be a jerk to people. This was one of the latter times, for sure. He could see it. So instead, he shrugged, maintaining his nonchalant demeanor, and set his feet up on the back of the chair, rolling his eyes.(view spoiler)
Maybe Stan was a jerk, but even he knew when he'd reached the boundaries of what he could and couldn't say, and he was approaching them quite quickly. "I never said that," he said meekly at her last comment, sighing softly. "Sorry," he mumbled, his jaw dropping the moment the words passed his lips. Had he really just apologized for something? That was unusual, even for him. Stan was never sorry, for anything. Despite himself, Stan abandoned all pretenses of being rude, sighing softly and dropping his hands into his lap. What did she mean by 'clinically diagnosed stupidity?' What did that mean? Honestly, Stan didn't care, so he wouldn't ask. Instead, he settled for anxiously running his hands through his hair, irritation clear in his posture. Not entirely irritated with the girl, but also with himself. Why was he so mean all the time? It quite bothered him, actually, though he didn't admit it to anyone. He had to push people away, admitting things wouldn't do. "The only thing making me uncomfortable is this silence."(view spoiler)
Normally, the young man would have retorted with anger clear in his tone, but for once, Stan remained silent. She was right, of course, but there was no way he'd admit it. In the end, it was always better to remain silent. Denial was infinitely better than having someone figure him out that quickly. So, the moment someone came close to figuring him out, Stan would immediately change something about the way he acted so he was still unpredictable as ever. In that way, Stan was quite predictable. With a soft sigh and a raking of his fingers through his hair, Stan leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the one in front of him, noting without quite caring that his shoes were untied. He'd been losing himself in his mind when Stan heard the girl's next words. Damn, she sure was making it hard for him to be nice. Maybe he'd abandon all pretenses of doing so... No, he'd remain silent. At least as long as he could, which wasn't guaranteed to be long. (view spoiler)
