{Zac} Content With Loneliness.

[francois simeon del roque.]

Life could sometimes pose quite a challenge when getting through it. It was sometimes one of the hardest tests one could face, and this was no exception for the small French boy Francois. Life itself had become tedious and much of a hindrance, but did he tell anyone? Oh no, that didn’t happen. He kept it all to himself and never would he utter a word of anything to a soul. It was very hard to keep it all bottled up sometimes, but you did what you had to do to get through the day, right? Everyone’s lives were falling apart. It was evident to the boy, and because of this he lacked the ability to lean on much of anyone. He wasn’t sure where Alexandria had gone; she just seemed to almost…disappear. It was quite nerve wracking to the boy, considering he didn’t have many other friends to count and depend on besides Elliot and Aaron.

It was odd how his relationship with Aaron seemed to be getting stronger and stronger. At first he hated the boy. He despised him with all of his being. But sometimes, when you are forced into a corner and all of your support is ripped away from you…you will be surprised on who you depend on. He needed someone to protect him anyway. He couldn’t depend on Elliot all the time, and it was just a simple fact. He needed someone else. He couldn’t deal with all of life by himself, and this was a given. He couldn’t deal with his family breathing down his neck. He couldn’t deal with all of the threats of deportation that shook him to his core. He didn’t show any of it, though. To anybody else he seemed like a quaint little boy who had his life under control, but inside it was unraveling. Everything was becoming undone and he knew it.

His wrist was shattered. He was almost sure of it. He cursed his dance teacher to the deepest pits of hell for completely totaling the bones, but he couldn’t do anything about it. It had been a few weeks since he collapsed in the gym, and he had been resting the hand and taking it easy. He had friends helping him with his homework, just so no one would suspect that he was injured. But he was. He had black and blue marks covering his body and a ring of deep purple circles around his wrist. He used his sweatshirt to conceal it all though. He hid behind waves of black and purple to keep to himself. Keeping to himself. It was something the boy was good at. This is why it was not uncommon to find him in the gym on an off period for the teachers. There were no classes going on, there was no one who ever wandered their way into the room…and for two periods he could just sit and be alone, working on the homework he could do. He was always at the utmost top bleacher, and it was the same today. His knees were brought up to his chest and his left arm was curled around it, Blackberry sitting in a petite manner inside his palm. His right hand was by his side, resting gently so he could not feel the pain inside it.

But Francois felt is still. He felt all the pain inside his body.

This was no different.

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[zakhery aiden west]

Zak had a free; he probably should have been in the library, studying or something, but if he went to the library he wouldn’t study, he’d read a comic book or put on his earphones. The problem with reading a comic book was that it just wasn’t cool, and it attracted negative attention. But Zak liked the images, the intricate details of the drawings. He really dug comic books. He didn’t see why the other kids should start on him because it wasn’t Shakespeare, whom he incidentally was also a fan of. No, the library was not for Zak. He didn’t give a damn about his studies enough to even head in that general direction. He couldn’t motivate himself. An average grade was just fine for Zak, it wasn’t like he was heading to college anyway, or perhaps to get away from his family; it was something worth thinking about.

That gutsy feeling of anxiety that he knew so well seemed to be stalking him today, it was heavy on his shoulders, glomping on his throat and sucking away his stomach (if only!). And the reason was looming ahead of him, two hours ahead actually. Gym class. Zak was one of those unlucky kids that never got chosen for any teams despite being actually okay at sports. There wasn’t only that, he had to get changed in front of the other guys who would often comment about how he had to peel his skinny’s off, and the teacher didn’t like him to wear makeup. Gym class was like torture, and what was worse was that Zak hadn’t found a gym uniform that would match his style. He was stuck with the shorts, which showed off his pale, veiny legs, and a tshirt. Sometimes if it was cold he would wear a band hoody, and he would always be wearing his converse, but it just wasn’t rock n roll, wearing sports shorts. He just kind of felt too preppy, if that was possible for a boy who looked like Zak, and more so too exposed. Whenever possible Zak would get a sick note written by his parents; given his eating disorder, he could pull off being sick quite well, and with his mom’s knowledge it meant that she occasionally got worried that he would pass out or something, but she was catching on to his plans. There were only so many times that you could claim to be ill. Today he had to go through with it, unless he injured himself, unless he twisted his ankle. The limping would be humiliating but probably not more than wearing those shorts. It was an interesting idea.

Whilst the dark haired, eyed, dressed boy contemplated this, his music (currently ‘Teenagers’ MCR) loud and singing out of his earphones, he’d headed towards the gymnasium. It was usually a quiet place where he could think, and just hang out without the worries that other people would be there, watching him, making him paranoid, as if they could control how he felt, as if they could instead of him. He paused at the door, heaving a quiet sigh. There was always a risk that the basketball team would be inside, and God no, he did not want to walk in on them. He’d tried out for them in his freshmen year. It had been the biggest mistake of his life. Quickly, a nervous tick, Zak rushed his hands through his black hair, hoping to mess it up. It looked best that way.

It took him several short moments to open the door, and slip into the comfortable silence (or of what he presumed would be silence had he not had his earphones in). Thankfully there were no basketball team, no soccer team, and no giggling cheerleaders. At first glance Zak hadn’t even noticed anybody, which made his pale lips curl into a sombre smile. He liked his own company almost as much as he liked the company of a good friend, when they came along. He had difficulty finding friends in High School, especially in this New York high school. He was just too weird for them. Gerard Way was one of his heroes. He barely listened to My Chemical Romance these days. As much as he liked them, so did everybody else. The fact that people he hated now claimed to be the biggest fan since sliced bread, he had to pull back, but with time he was starting to get over it. It was fine, that a band had fans that were morons; it really wasn’t the band’s fault.

The real question wasn’t about music though, it was about getting out of gym. How could he hurt himself in a way that would be convincing enough to his gym teacher that he couldn’t do it. He could always fall but if you fell, on purpose, to make yourself fall, the injuries usually didn’t seem to exist. Punching himself probably wouldn’t work unless he did it loads but then he wasn’t really a good fighter to begin with. He could always cut himself, but what purpose would that achieve? Kids would just call him emo even more than they did, and that term was just derogatory; it was for fourteen year old teenyboppas that wanted to be ‘emo’, not themselves. It was pathetic, he could do without the stereotype. He sighed once more, this time in frustration, as he walked further into the hall. If only he had his make up on him, he could probably create his own bruising but if he got sent home and his mom found out he’d done that he’d be in big trouble, he was kinda scared of his parents.

As Zak approached the bleachers, he had to stop quickly, the sight of a small boy entering his vision. Where had this handsome strange been all of his life, or at least the last thirty seconds when he’d walked across the room, contemplating hurting himself badly enough to get kicked out of school; Zak was a happy boy. His face curved into a mischievous grimace as he began to climb the seats towards the teenager. Maybe, for once, he could spend his breaks doing something a little bit more fun than talking to himself. It was wrong that his mind automatically jumped to making out with the guy, the guy who he’d never even seen before. He had a problem, he knew it. He couldn’t get close to people. He was too afraid to, and too insecure. To actually let somebody in meant that he was at risk of getting hurt, more hurt than he was now, he could get rejected. And he’d been rejected too many times. His classmates had established that pattern many years ago. Making out with someone made him feel wanted, special even. But then he was only a tease because he wouldn’t go any further; nobody could see his naked body but himself, and even so that was fleeting. He hated his body. He was an onion of insecurities, each layer peeling back a deeper fear, coated with a splash of paint to make it look shiny. But it was only temporary, to survive high school. Zak had always had this dream, that when he left high school his life would start, like he was just passing time now in the waiting room.

”Hello,” the tall boy said as he crouched down in front of the dark haired youth. Zak liked his image, they would look good together on facebook pictures. He reached his black painted nails to grasp a hold of the other boy’s hand, to which he drew to his lips. He kissed his hand. Zak was always one for poetic things, and tradition. His darkly coated eyes stared blankly up at the other boy as he released his hand. ”I’m Zak; short, sweet, easy to scream. What’s your name? If it’s too long I may have to give you a pet name,” he teased, winking mischievously.

[francois simeon del roque.]

Francois did not like sitting in the gymnasium as much as he let on. He didn’t care for the senseless amount of teams that seemed to pour in more and more each day. One day it was the football team, and he simply abhorred them to no end. They liked to throw things at Francois when he was walking away, or even sometimes they enjoyed pushing their way in front of him to try and have a “conversation.” Oh yes, straight males, he could not deal with them one bit. He imagined this was why he clung to Elliot so much. Clung to the only thing that kept him sane anymore. Elliot was the thing that kept him happy. He was the thing that erased the fading cuts on his wrist. He was simply the thing that took the pain away. It was funny actually. How such a simple action from the boy could make Franny leap and bound into his arms. They smallest things that aroused the loudest noises from him. It was amazing, but at the same time it was foreign. No one had ever…“hit on” the boy in any sense of the word, so to actually be liked by someone…it was so…so different. He wasn’t used to men being nice to him in general, even though he always tended to be nice to them, minus an exception here or there; and yet they were always so judgmental towards him. Yeah, it was hard to deal with ,but the boy had dancing.

Dancing was something that no one could ever take from him. It was something that sent him twirling into other worlds and flying into little pockets of happiness. It was sometimes hard for others to believe, but when you pushed your body to its utmost limits…it actually did make you “happy” really. Even if it wasn’t really happiness exactly, it was an escape, and it was something the boy would never give up. Without it, Francois didn’t really know how he would survive. He didn’t know how he would be able to keep on going if he didn’t have his dance. It was the thing that made him want to go on. It was the thing that gave him reason to keep going, to keep pushing through this world of pain. Yeah the boy got clingy ever now and again, but didn’t everyone? Didn’t everyone just want to be happy and safe for once in their life? He knew he had it tough, but he knew other people did as well. He wanted to be there for people, for his friends. He wanted to make people feel secure and loved the way he did. Well, the way he felt most of the time. There were times when even the strongest broke down, and Franny has had his plenty of shares of breakdowns. Did he enjoy them? No. Were the necessary? Yes. Francois thought that everyone needed to have a breakdown every once in a while. He knew people needed to be weak, but he just wanted to stop being that person.

He was a little taken back when he suddenly saw a male entering the gym. He instinctively sank down a little bit into his seat and lifted his books up a little bit more to shield himself. He watched the boy with careful eyes for a moment, until he reached the bleacher he was sitting on. A small sigh brushed against his lips before he lowered the book, cocking an eyebrow at the male he saw approaching him on the bleachers. He let his hand be taken with another sigh, before his eyes widened as cold lips made contact again. He quickly let his hands pull away before looking at the boy with a shocked expression.

“Hello. I am taken.” He gave him an almost too cheery smile before letting his shattered wrist lay down gently into his lap, sighing once more.

“I am Francois. You may sit if you like, but just know I have a boyfriend, so please don’t try anything, and I’m sure we can be friends.” He gave him more of a gentle, considerate smile now before putting his book away and taking out yet another one.

This meeting was definitely going to be interesting.

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[zakhery aiden west]

Perhaps everything was Zak’s fault, the way he didn’t really fit in. It was as if anything, and everything that most people did, he just rejected, it just bored him. He’d isolated himself, that was true, but how could it be his fault that his peers enjoyed nothing more than taunting him? He dressed the way he liked for himself, because he liked this style, it intrigued him. So then why did it concern them if he wore guyliner? It didn’t make any sense. He just had to believe that this was only a high school thing, that in time things would get better, improve, that he wouldn’t be trapped in this nightmare, that he wouldn’t need the music he relied so strongly on, or the comic books that stole his imagination.

The look on the other guys face was priceless, but not entirely unexpected. Shocked, angry, disgusted, those were the general few that he expected. It was unlikely that he’d get a smile, or encouragement for his behaviour, but even so it was all a game, and tried not to get emotionally involved when he hunted, so to speak. A pull, when successful, was just a pull, it didn’t really matter if he saw him again, although it was always nice to be acknowledged in public, and walking down the hallway with a friend would make for a wonderful change. He was tired of having to ring his old friends from home every time he walked alone, just to avoid the preps.

Zak allowed a short laugh to exit his mouth as the boy introduced himself, or rather his martial status, but it was funnier to think of it was an introduction. ”Taken huh,” he mused playfully, ”You’re the first… taken that I’ve come across.” Despite his playful expressions, it wasn’t much of a friendship starter, being introduced to someone by whether they had a boyfriend or not. It made him seem like a sexual predator or something, as if he needed to be firmly told. Francois, Zak observed, seemed all too polite. Almost like a school teacher or something. Zak nodded slowly, they could be friends if he didn’t try anything. Yes, he definitely felt like a pervert, or a poodle. Where did this reputation come from? He slunk up on the bleaches next to Francois. ”Well I’m single,” he shrugged, and frowned.

Usually one to take things to heart, Zak stored this meeting in its own special patch to mope about later, but for now he had a mission. He would get kicked out of school for being caught making out with a guy! Surely the school was homophobic enough for that, old fashioned enough to make such a deal out of it that he’d miss gym. He turned to study the petite boy beside him, silence engulfing the hall for just a few moments whilst Zak tried to figure out his next move, if he even had any move to offer. He never understood why things couldn’t be simpler, why he couldn’t be the type of guy that everyone was attracted to, like the football guys, they could get who they like, they didn’t have to be told ‘Oh, I’m taken, don’t try anything or we can’t be friends’. His thoughts were turning bitter, his pouting lip twisting into a grimace Sometimes he hated having to work for what he wanted, having to even work for the idea of being loved. No, that was disgusting, love didn’t exist and he didn’t need to be loved. He just liked to kiss people, nothing else. The boy’s dark hair seemed to crave Zak’s hands, his fingertips, or maybe it was the other way round, maybe it was his finger wishing to wisp their way through the black locks. He gulped quietly, but what was refraining him? The fear of not having a friend? Unlikely, Zak had no intentions of being a third wheel in their walk down the corridor, the walk through Hell. He wanted friends, if they would appreciate him and not just let him ‘tag’ with them. That was no life. ”I’d like to meet your boyfriend,” he mused quietly as he absentmindedly played with his hair. It was one of the reasons he liked it longer, he could do what he liked with it really, and it made a good toy for difficult, awkward situations.

A sigh left his lips and he dropped his hands, turning ever so slightly to face Francois; now that would be a nice name to whisper sweet nothings about. ”Why did you tell me you were taken, before even telling me your name?” he asked quietly, a frown coercing his pale face. But he couldn’t keep his hands to himself for too long. This boy, who had first denied him, was like steak being handed, on a plate, to a lion. He wanted him, if only for these few hours between class. He needn’t even know his name, the lust had already filled him, his eyes staring preciously at the small boy’s form. ”You should close your eyes,” he suggested. You only lived once, it was the mentality that went through his mind, the moment he leant in and pressed his lips against Francois, his finger tips finally getting their wish as he clung, perhaps a little too tightly, to his hair, holding his head in a way which satisfied his lips.

[francois simeon del roque.]

Things seemed to be moving slow for Francois. Not just life itself, because that had been slugging along as well, but right now, the moment was going slow too. He let his eyes gently stray over the boy in front of him, and for a moment he couldn’t help but wonder; was this boy like him? He seemed to dress like Francois, and he imagined he was the type to wear eyeliner as well…but were they the same? Were they different people with the same story? Franny found that it was hard to find people like that. It was difficult to find someone who was sincere and real, but he couldn’t help but get the feeling that the boy was afraid to be real with people. Maybe something had happened to him? Maybe there was something Francois did not know about the boy, something that made him the way he was…just like Franny himself. The French boy had problems that he kept to himself. He had things he needed to deal with on his own, things he would never tell anyone…such dark secrets, such confined memories he would not share with a single soul.

Francois was brought out of his train of thought rather quickly though by the boys’ words. He listened to him talk for a moment before opening his mouth to respond.

“I told you I was taken because you kissed my hand. No one touches me unless they want something from me.” The boy grinned at the sad truth in his own words, but he felt with it. People didn’t socialize with him. They didn’t talk to him unless they wanted something from him. Well, everyone but Elliot of course. The people in this school were shallow and he knew it. They all had motives behind their actions. They all had a reason to go and do the things that they did. Whether it was to gain status on the popularity latter, to make themselves look better, or to even just get some more friends for putting someone down; it was still a motive. It was still a reason to be nice to someone, to gain their trust so you could infiltrate them from the inside out. It was a strategy that Francois was used to, because it was one that he was taught by one of his best friends. It was a strategy Francois knew all too well, and it was one he would never fall for again. There was suddenly a strange sentence that came out the boy’s mouth, one that caused Francois’ eyes to narrow at nothing in particular a little bit. Close them? Why would the boy want him to close his eyes? The he found out. He saw him move in close, and as the boy’s lips got dangerously close to Francois’, he quickly shot his shattered hand up in front of his lips so the boy was kissing that, and not him. There was a searing pain that scorched through Francois’ wrist when the boy kissed his hand. One that brought tears to his eyes as his other hand shot to the boy’s chest, pushing him away and standing up.

“I told you not to try anything! I get used enough around this school! I get bullied enough! I don’t need you adding to it!” He quickly turned away as a stray tear dripped down his cheek, grabbing his bag with his good hand and beginning to walk down the bleachers.

Francois was really not in the mood for this today.

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OOC: Sorry this post is short and gross I apologise ;-;

[zakhery aiden west]

Zakhery furrowed his brow at the boy’s response. Zak was no stranger to insecure people, he himself was quite insecure, but if somebody touched him he would be more up for the party than willing to fight it. He felt bad, a bit, that Francois would feel that way, but there was nothing that Zak could really do to help it. In time he’d be okay, he’d be confident, once high school was out… it was Zak’s saying, once high school was out life would be perfect. They’d all be musicians or movie stars or something cool like that. He’d be taking the world by storm with his drums, or whatever, maybe he’d be a junkie, but he wouldn’t be in High School. ”I don’t want anything from you,” Zak teased, ”I merely want to do things to you!” He was all up for being mischievous and even scary at times, what could he say, the Addams family ruled his world. He kind of knew that such a speech wouldn’t be any comfort to Francois, but despite this knowledge, he couldn’t help acting like that. He was Zak, insecure, but when he spoke like that he felt like he sounded confident, like the person who he wanted to be. It was why he liked to act so reckless, he felt alive, and he felt good about himself.

He had expected Francois to relax a little when he kissed him, that it would be really intimate and intense; passionate! But instead it was as if Zakhery were practising kissing, like he would do as a little boy, on the back of his hand. When he figured out what on earth he was kissing, that it was hand, and not in fact lips like he’d intended, he felt a surge of rage streak through him. Who did this punk think he was? You just didn’t do that, it wasn’t right, he couldn’t be rejected like that! He fell back against the step and sat frozen for only a moment when Francois stood up. Shock replaced anger if only for a moment, before Zakhery, too, stood up, and continued after Francois. ”Used? Bullied?!” Zak yelled angrily. Usually he couldn’t stand up for himself, not to the jocks, although he did like to try. He liked to have this power that he felt he had over the small boy in front of him, though he was mostly motivated by anger and the hurt from rejection. This is the exact reason why making out in clubs was definitely better, because people barely refused. ”You think me kissing you is bullying you? Give me a break! I know what being bullied is and it certainly isn’t that! Why the fuck would I bully you?” he asked, exasperated, distracted for a moment from his mission.

Zak liked being so tall, it allowed him to get places quicker, his long legs striding down the bleachers after Francois. Zak read for his shoulder, carefully trying not to stumble on the bleachers as he tried to catch up. ”You can’t do this, okay kid! I mean seriously I just tried to kiss you and it’s rude to do what you did, it’s just not right! Haven’t you seen anything? Like in My So Called Life, when that loser Claire Danes turned down Jared Leto, and she just regretted it for ages, well I don’t know if she did but she should have, and you wouldn’t turn down Jared Leto, so you shouldn’t turn down me!” he exclaimed, although after his speech he realised that it kind of didn’t really make sense. He had nothing in common with Jared Leto, although he’d certainly like to, he liked Jared Leto. ”Just fucking kiss me, or… or I’ll tell everybody that you did anyway!” he threatened suddenly, his eyes narrow, angry like.