lucian.

[edit]

"please stay here and be good," she murmured to anxious mutts who pulled at their leashes from where they had been knotted on a telephone pole.

"lucian!" it was lady sorrow's catcall to the broken boy. today lady sorrow wore a suit of skin and razorblade bones. wild waves of emerald silk waved behind her as she shouldered in through the door of the tea house. constance was hysterical and people stared. layers of clothes did little to hide the ebbing body beneath fabric. as much as constance didn't want to admit it, she was a walking corpse. the only thing she had more of than heartache were tears.

a manager was waving open palms like white flags. "hey! hey! calm down!" but constance was a hurricane blowing into shore; a fury of arms and a flowing green scarf that hid away too short hair.

"where is he?" she choked on her words and swallowed down her anger.

"on break."

she ate her words, trapped them behind her teeth and gagged on them as she tried to force them back down her throat. "please find him, i need him." and she dropped to her knees in prayer, in the middle of the tea house. college kids stared, his co-workers wide eyed and staring. but none of them offered sympathy for an unwilling martyr.

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ November 23, 2006 02:45 PM: Message edited by: vodka slurs ]</font>

[killjoyed]

the employees suddenly erupted in a banter among themselves as they shook dried soy milk from the steamer, rattled their fingers around paper cups, scooping tea into looseleaf bags.

"call him on his cell phone!"

"he doesn't have one."

"where does he go on his breaks?"

"he goes -- hold on, hold on a second. hi, what can i get you?"

"half masala chai half spicy chai, two percent milk but don't steam it." tight lips and an even tighter hat on the debutant's head, watching the pierced employees sourly as they carried out her order. "and a raspberry scone, too."

"he goes where again?" shift, whirr, a popping hiss.

"no! she said no steam!"

"oh fuck, sorry.."

"he goes up to the roof, yah know, to uhhh.." the mohawked boy dipped his head down some, the rim of black just barely gracing over the top of the steam machine. he pinched his thumb and forefingers together, batting them at his lips.

"ohhhh! no shit?"

"yaaah. here you go ma'am, half masala half spicy, two percent no steam -- oh, and here's your scone, that'll be four twenty-seven.."

"you think he's got anymore?" the other employee chimed in, her face a goofy wash of laughter, ignoring the tapping of feet from a line of customers behind the rich woman.

"shhh! thank you and have a nice day, next!" mohawk shooed the girl off to the side, slipping his head sideways for a moment to talk while his ears caught the next person's order. "go tell his girlfriend, over there! constance."

"you sure? it's busy!"

"yeah i'm sure, take her up there!" a swivel of hair and he gripped both fingers to the counter, smiling brashly in the face of a woman bundled with her two children. "two hot chocolates and a chamomile mint? got it."

the girl wound herself from the back of the long teabar, ducking around people and screaming children in all the joy of the holidays to make it over to constance, still breathless at the thought that one of her managers slipped away to go smoke pot during his breaks. "hi uh, apparently he goes on the roof for his breaks. i dunno why, seems a little cold this time of year, huh?" she paused, plucking at the front of her teaquisite shirt, white print on black with a steaming teapot bellowing out the words, then started off and curved her hand. "c'mon! i'll show you."

she led the way by shouldering into an old elevator, pressing buttons that didn't light up anymore to bring them two stories up to the top, a short half staircase leading to an ajar door, the breeze funneling fast through the cracks from the outside coldair pressure.

lucian jumped when he heard the creak of the door, his hand swinging down to the side from his mouth, eyes narrowing down on his employee. "sarah! the fuck're you doin'? isn't it busy -- constance!" he smiled broadly as sarah wiggled off back downstairs, his feet kicking looseroofed gravel as he made it over to her. "what's up, babydoll?" he crooned, the lids of his eyes slitting down fierce when he saw the look on her face, the momentary panic in her eyes. "what's wrong?"

the pause was short and he took a last hit from the joint, rolling the cherry until it was out, calloused fingers tucking the roach in a front pocket. "c'mon, let's go somewhere where it's warm.."

[edit]

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ November 23, 2006 05:58 PM: Message edited by: vodka slurs ]</font>

[edit]

she thought that was how cattle must feel when they were led to the slaughterer. sick with blind anticipation for the mysterious horizon. but lucian was her personal savoir, her perverse messiah; no slaughterer. she followed sarah like she was moses, leading her to her redemption. silent prayer, eyes to the sky. constance feared god would only mock her now, "hey big shot, coming back to me when you're dying, eh?" she imagined the benevolent lord saying. a deep frown creased her face, eyes wide in sorrow. she shifted passed sarah and staggered toward the dark haired boy.

"lucian," she cried out, folding herself into him. "i tried not to think about it, baby. i tried really hard not to think about. i've been tried thinkin' positive." fingers curled into his back, desperate to touch him. her face buried into the crook of his neck, lips brushing skin with her hollow words. "i'm dying, lucian. i don't know if i can do this. i don't know if i'm strong enough to survive it." all her fears finally came spilling out in a flood of tears. pain killers finally kicked in, speech slurring.

"i need you so bad, and i feel like i am burdening you. and i'm sorry, but please, i don't have anything but you. you're the only thing that keeps me goin'." she felt that she was surely the definition of pathetic. her knees felt weak, long limbs shaking and a fear of being swallowed by the building below bubbling up. "please just don't give up on me, please. i love you so much. just...just don't give up on me." her grip tightened subtly. "just please. i'll do anything, i swear." in the process of her struggle to take hold of him, her scarf had fallen to the ground.

she looked down at it, stopping to rub a hand over the short hair. "i'm sorry for coming here, baby. i shouldn't...have, i was just. i was really upset." logic had finally caught up with panic and with the help of serenity pinned down the unruly emotion. "i just don't have anyone else, lucian. you're all i got." she forced an apologetic smile and stared at her feet. "i didn't mean to ruin your break. i hope i didn't get you in trouble." she felt remorse clawing beneath the service of skin. sometimes even the strongest people got tired; even the brave broke down.

[killjoyed]

"what if she dies?"

lucian dug a fork into the yolk of a fried egg, breaking the embryonic skin, runny yellow slick as snot while it pooled around greasy white.

"you know, shit." the ex-artist listened to the sounds of the diner, inhabitants of dorothy's consisting mostly of grizzled truckers and old ladies wearing broaches and stiff-shouldered dress shirts, mulling peacefully over their midday soups and sandwiches, a beautiful portrait of americana gone placid. he set down his fork and picked up a piece of toast, slathered with butter and soggy, sopping the triangle edge into the eggs. not sure if the words were for himself or for guillermo, the cook busy behind the counter with all of this food and shoddy employees, partially lending an ear to the blackhaired boy's (quick, he's becoming a man now) woes whether he realized it or not.

"but hey, these are good eggs," he mumbled around a mouthful of them in his mouth, spearing a sausage to shove it in the corner of his cheek, molars grinding the breakfast into suitable blending flavors. "thanks, man."

he would eat it all, there was no use in bringing home food to a girl that was never hungry anymore, wasting away until her skin clung to the thin bones that made up a birdwinged frame, one that would fly through the span of time if it could be at all possible.

and above the sizzle of bacon and flip of spatula against a spitting grill, someone was laughing, lucian cracking a small smile across his face.

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ December 04, 2006 04:09 PM: Message edited by: killjoyed ]</font>

[killjoyed]

<center>

mouthful of cavities
your soul's a bowl of jokes
and everyday you remind me
how i'm desperately in need

oh please give me a little more
and i'll push away those baby blues
'cause one of these days this will die
so will me and so will you</center>

[killjoyed]

his skin was sallow against the pulse of the lamp, bulb flickering against the heat of the storm that pushed it's way through electrical wire, this one last waning chance.

"dear constance," he wrote.

he only spelled everything right when he was sober.

.."i'm not writing you this because i'm sad. i'm not writing you this because i'm desperate, either. i want to let you know that i love you. i love the way that the sun shines on your cheekbones when you wake up, how your lips curl into something that i can never understand when you finally realize that i'm still here net to you. i want you to know this. i want you to..."

as the wind howled his heart did most of the same, pulling deep against a straining heart, fingers tightening around a pen spilling most of it's ink black and worthless.

"...know that you're the one for me. and i know that i'll probably never be enough to tell you this in person, that i'm sorry that in my time alive all i'll have is this to tell you how. this paper, this pen."

lines creased the edges of his eyes as he stared straight into an abyss that didn't belong to him in the first place, these unblinking eyes with green and brown swirling deep in cognitive meditation. the fold a paper and a tuck underneath her sleeping pillow, his beautiful brownhaired girl glowing brighter than the day every passing second.

"i'll see you after work," he hushed low into her forehead as he dipped to kiss it, the tips of his hair brushing skin before he slid from the side of the bed.

[killjoyed]

three days of sequential close-opens had him brimming deep in sleep for his first day off in a week, muscles straining as his eyes peeled open from the yelp of dog sounding clear into his dreams, floating through the open bedroom door. literally pulling himself out from the cover of blanket and sheet, bare feet hit the floor and brought himself forward, naked except for a pair of black sweatpants bearing the steam-curled letters of teaquisite's logo.

"hey c, baby?"

he wrapped inked arms around his torso, sprawls of black and color muddying together in a confused artist's rendition of memories and stories, blending together for something that required a translation he wasn't about to even begin to decipher. lou padded to the bathroom, gummy eyes blinking with the aftermath of slumber as he frowned to constance, brain piecing together the last shout he had heard. "moshe bit you?"

he went forward to where she was sitting on the toilet, sallow-eyed and holding her bloody hand, a set of his fingers prying down to take ahold of it, thumb gracing across the bandage. "aw, baby," he murmured soft and reached with his free hand, raking fingernails through shocks of quickly sprouting brown hair, nearly favoring the way he could admire the true curve of cheekbone and neck without being constantly shaded by a curtain of long strands. "after i go buy you some breakfast i'm gonna go skate with the dogs, like cesar fuckin' dog whisperer, how's that sound?"

just one side of his lips quirked up into a grin, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. "good mornin', by the way.."

"but it's the afternoon." she murmured back, that familiar glint skimming across beautiful blues.

and he went laughing.