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Post by ĸara вelova★ on Mar 30, 2009 21:12:07 GMT -5
She was panting. Kara had never exerted so much energy in one thing in her life. Even her more passionate paintings lacked the vigor put in this singular activity. Her nails were broken and her fingers were bleeding, but she still would not stop.
Eiji was going to come home to a giant mess.
The throw pillows were punctured, ripped, and the insides strewn across the room. All his crystal wine glasses had been meticulously destroyed, tossed against the wall with a vindictive crash. The beautiful bar was scratched beyond repair with deep gashes from the tip of a cork screw. Anything made of something fragile enough for Kara to break was broken. Anything stronger was thrown or damaged. Anything nailed down had something protruding from it. Nothing was left unscathed. Kara clawed her way through Eiji's CD collection and made sure to break anything that reminded her of him. Which was pretty much everything. She found her painting, stashed away somewhere no one could see.
Was he ashamed of it? He obviously didn't like it. She turned the canvas around, took a deep breath, and stuck her foot through it.
Kara cried. She stood in the mess, her hair knotted and broken, tears running down her cheeks. She could numb herself to this. To this heartache. To this pain. It's what she always did. But she needed to feel it. Needed to know how much it hurt. Otherwise, how else would she know just how much damage she had to inflict on Eiji and his belongings. These things weremerely material. Kara never valued material things, not for their worth but for their sentiment. Eiji had been what she coveted, what she had held onto the tightest. And then he slipped from her grasp without even a good-bye.
The bitter girl dropped and curled into a ball on the ground. She sobbed and nursed her bruised and injured fingers, clutching them to her chest. The painting was lying face down near her, along with the remains of a glass coffee table. She would wait till the boy got home. She wanted to see his reaction. Would it be 'how the hell did she get in my house?'. Or maybe 'holy shit this is going to be expensive'.
She choked on a noise that sounded like a half-strangled cat. Her wretched breaths shook her whole body. She had half a year left. Half a year before she died and this was how she was wasting it.
She was pathetic.
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Post by Eiji Almasy. on Mar 30, 2009 22:54:30 GMT -5
The thing to understand about Eiji Almasy, was that he was never that good to begin with.
He’d gone ahead and had been a selfish, unreliable prick. He’d first been with Elliot because he’d wanted someone he couldn’t have, and she had been the better alternative to being alone. When Elliot had become his center, when comparisons were based on her rather than against her, and when it began that he couldn’t imagine a single moment of time spent worthwhile outside of her, he knew it; he liked her. Altruistically and stupidly, he had messed up, pushed her all the way to the continent and hadn’t seen her for months.
Kara had been his single-serving friend. She’d first been that curious little enigma he wanted to chip at. He liked making her uncomfortable; he liked watching the flicker of expression on her face every time he touched her, or got too near. He was a sadist, and he would admit it, but then, in the absence of everything he was familiar with, he did something stupid; blinked, and suddenly he was responsible for her.
His feelings for her were different; complicated. He wanted someone to fill the void, he wanted affection, and while she hadn’t given that to him, she had been there, and that had made the difference. He’d become attached, or was it entangled? Because it had went from self-serving, to being dependent; he couldn’t very well leave her with the knowledge that he’d be leaving behind a completely unstable individual. He knew what he was to her, but he had went ahead and let it happen anyway.
When Elliot returned, it was a combination of things that had him staying away. He didn’t know what to say to her, how to explain himself, how to say it so that he wouldn’t lose her entirely. It was mostly though, that he was a little bit of a simple kind of guy; there wasn’t much of an argument left once it all came together. While the guilt churning at the pit of his stomach grew, he couldn’t say that it ate at him overmuch, or that it would be enough to stem his reaction upon entering his home.
He was jingling his keys, swinging the key chain around on his finger, but that stopped; the heavy set and sharp angles falling on the back of his hand. His steps were slow, cautious and measured, doubtful almost.
“What the fuck,” he murmured, eyes sweeping all along the floors, the walls, the fragments embedded into the ceiling; the destruction was hideous.
He didn’t notice Kara at first, taken by the rapid beating inside his chest; the panic and the anger, the clenching of fists and the biting of nails and keys. He was shocked, almost mortified; things like this didn’t happen to people like him. He had probably never seen so much destitution in his life before. That last thought was somewhat comforting; it could be fixed, they could fix this. He supposed it was the sentimental value that was working at him, and he tried not to imagine the possibility of the culprit getting into their rooms.
Her cries snapped his focus onto her, and it only took him half a second to recognize her, and what her presence meant.
“Kara,” he called, something about his tone that suggested he wouldn’t be receptive to her tears, “did you do this?”
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Post by ĸara вelova★ on Mar 30, 2009 23:16:22 GMT -5
The flavour of his voice alerted her before the icy feeling. Before, whenever she was around him, she kept herself closed. She wouldn't let him feel anything she was feeling, and she wouldn't feel what he felt. But now that sense of privacy was gone, that respect for personal space. She could practically read his mind, what with the way he sounded and the way he felt. She hated him for immediately jumping to that conclusion. She hated him for not believing in her. She he hated him.
"No," She spat in contempt. No, she didn't do this. This wasn't her fault. She believed it too. Kara was just delivering Eiji's comeuppance. She was a tool of Fate, giving the boy what he deserved. Or... "They're gone."
She wanted her friend back. So badly. She lied to herself all her life, but no matter how much she tried to convince herself that she loathed him, she was willing to do anything to get him back. Even this.
"They... I'm so sorry. They followed me here," The tears sprang on demand and Kara gasped, raising the back of her hand to her lip. She didn't look at him, instead she occupied her gaze on the mess before them. "I didn't know where to go. And you don't answer your phone," She shot a pang of guilt into him.
He was going to believe her. He had to believe her. Why would Kara Belova break into someone's house and destroy thousands of dollars worth of merchandise? It didn't make sense. It was a million times more believeable that the men who had kidnapped her wanted her recaptured, and after threatening Eiji she came to see if he was okay.
"They... they did..." she choked on her words and stared down at her bruised hands. She whimpered, "they hurt me...!"
The clumsy brunette always sported bruises, and she had acquired a couple more from her rampage through his living room. She could easily turn them into war wounds. She hugged herself, looking barren and desperate, standing there before him. She was miserable. From the hair sticking to her cheeks to the broken shoe lace of her ancient no-name boots, every inch of her screamed for pity.
She wanted his genuine reaction. If it wasn't what she wanted, she'd make him feel otherwise. Kara had grown more powerful in Eiji's absense, and she was desperate enough to use that power now. It was all up to Eiji whether she used it or not. At least that's what she told herself.
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Post by Eiji Almasy. on Mar 31, 2009 2:43:28 GMT -5
It was probably because of the very true fact, that at the end of it, despite anything that could be said and done between them, he would still blame himself. While he knew this, knew that it was all because of him, that it was always because of him, he wouldn’t allow himself to be apologetic. More importantly, he wouldn’t allow her to make him feel even more worthless than he already felt. His days may have been brighter, more lived and more full, but as he had always done, Eiji set aside the early hours to let his conscience tear at him, to let that vicious little voice inside his head speak until he really believed that he was nothing short of a sick, sick predator.
It wasn’t that she had actually done anything, except for maybe destroy his entire penthouse; it was more that he recognized her act.
“Don’t do this to me,” he snapped, feeling wretched inside.
The constrictions inside were almost overwhelming. He had left his phone inside his car because he couldn’t be bothered carrying the extra distraction while visiting the senior girl’s dorms. He’d justified his action by believing that anybody really needing to get in touch with him would merely get him themselves or have the mind to go to Elliot’s cell. The fact that he’d been with his girlfriend didn’t even play a part in his mental anguish; he just wished that he’d been honest from the beginning, that way, he wouldn’t feel so unfaithful.
He knew what she was capable of though, that day back in December coming to mind. It was because she’d done it before that he couldn’t trust that she wasn’t manipulating him; that his feelings were his own and she wasn’t influencing him in anyway. Her gift wasn’t even the point. The real fact of the matter was that he knew. He hadn’t tried to keep it a secret, and the whole Academy had seen how he’d gone from a brunette on his arm to the blonde. He knew she knew, she had to have known, because that was the only explanation behind this current mess.
“Look at me,” he said to her, annoyance seeping in because fuck, their plasma had been especially imported from Japan and had almost been as expensive as his car; he wondered if insurance covered this kind of damage.
“And don’t lie. Why are your fingers bleeding? Did ‘they’ attack you with my stuff?”
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Post by ĸara вelova★ on Apr 7, 2009 17:24:39 GMT -5
He didn't believe her. He shouldn't. But he was supposed to.
"You're supposed to be my friend," Kara said, with the same accusatory tone he used with her. It wasn't meant to sound mocking, but it came out that way. "You're supposed to support me."
This made her sound like she was testing him. Like this whole mess was just one giant, expensive test. But it wasn't, and it was, for purposes both of them could probably understand if they looked at it hard enough. The wretched brunette was craving his attention, and when she had none of it she demanded it in the loudest way the quiet girl could think of. What was more, she felt spurned, and as though he just shunted her to the side. She knew he could, and how he had every right to do that now she had ruined his house. But before this happened, she felt unjustified. And although she told herself every day that he was too good for her, he made her believe they could have been equals. And when he suddenly shifted to the superior position she held him in, when he stepped onto that pedestal, it felt all wrong.
You couldn't do that. Yet Eiji had, Eiji did, and now Kara was this. She thought of herself as the victim. She knew that she was. It didn't matter how loathsome and vile a person anyone thought her to be. She had been wronged and now she was setting things right. Kara snapped.
"When I needed you, you weren't there," She was referring to her text message when she was captured. "You don't even know what happened to me," the emotion in her voice was genuine; rare and raw. He'd probably never hear it again. "You don't know."
Maybe she'd be able to blame her violence on some side-effect of whatever it was they injected into her. Perhaps she really could sell him the story of the men coming to his home and destroying everything in search of him. Whatever Eiji chose to believe didn't worry her. It was what he would think of her that upset her so much. If he was perfect, if he was everything she thought him to be, he would worry for her, be angry for her, even pity her. The girl had been through a lot, and again she saw herself as the victim. Yes, she had acted harshly. Yes, it was horrible what she'd done. But not unforgivable, surely. Eiji would be able to see that she needed him. Eiji would look past this.
Eiji would!
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Post by Eiji Almasy. on Apr 8, 2009 8:00:09 GMT -5
The sudden compulsion to cry was hard to ignore. He was not someone lesser, but in the process of switching masks, maintaining his composure and hardening his heart, he'd fumbled; and he could feel the exact moment he teetered, and fell.
His hands uncurled, a key ring catching on a finger, and he felt like flinging the set of scrap metal through the balcony windows; felt like breaking something, maybe the dry wall, just to drown out the way he was screaming inside, the way his blood rushed and the screeching in his lungs that made it hard for him to breathe. She would do this, she would make him feel like the bastard that he was.
Her words seemed to him the honest truth, and he let them cut into him, let them tear at his arms until he trembled, let them tear at his chest until he sagged, and he let them tear at his face until they created the mask of someone who hated themselves so much and so fervently. His stance was weathered, the strain in his shoulders tangible; the weight he bore still there, despite how he had let the plunge occur. The silence became loud in his ears and the heaviness inside of him didn't let up, and every beat of his hollow organ became distinct, like irritating hooks plummeting from the edges; there was a picture of his mother somewhere beneath the turmoil, just like there were pictures of all the things each of them loved, everywhere around the apartment.
"Very good," he commended, tone a version of quiet; an admission to how affected he really was. There was a small tilt at his lips, a sad smile that seemed more a downward curve than anything; and his eyes, a dull translucent green, unremarkable.
" ̶̶̶̶̶ ," he started, but then stopped; he couldn't say anything, didn't know what to say. I feel just as miserable as you, didn't seem right, and he didn't know if he had it in him to listen to her story, if afterward he would be able to discern between truth, lies and blame, all of which he would readily bear; having her say it was another thing, the twisted knife he wasn't sure he could suffer just yet.
"Just tell me what you want and, ̶̶ I don't know Kara," he muttered, hoarse, almost unintelligible, hands and keys running through his hair, clenching, and knotting and not letting go; he needed a drink, but they would have no glasses, or liquid fire; it was a mess
"I can't stay here. I don't want you staying here. I can't look at you right now."
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Post by ĸara вelova★ on Apr 8, 2009 8:44:40 GMT -5
His crushing guilt was suffocating. The more he hated himself, the more Kara felt his pain. She was open to his onslaught of emotion, and although this was exactly what she wanted him to feel, she didn't want to feel it herself. She quickly closed herself off from feeling what he was, but the bitter aftertaste of self-loathing coated her tongue and left her with a sour taste. Kara trembled.
"I don't want you to feel this way," Kara said, not realizing she was lying until the words were out. The truth was that she wanted Eiji to feel what he did. Or rather, what he hadn't done. She wanted to unload it all on him, confess every sin those men did against her, and let Eiji blame it all on himself. She wanted him to feel that pain. She wanted him to care for her again.
But some part of her, possibly the last shred of nobility in her, held back the truth as she always did. But this time, her omission wouldn't hurt. It certainly wouldn't heal, but it couldn't possibly injure him any further. And by keeping this secret, by not letting him know, she felt as though she were saving him. From himself. And so that moment of lightness that appeared momentarily after the first wine glass broke now vanished, and the heavy burden of her life settled back down on her shoulders.
Whatever the hell Kara was doing, she thought she was doing it for Eiji's interest. It wasn't her desire to keep everything hidden. With Eiji she always felt like she was at the edge of a precipice where if she leaned to her own side, she was doomed to fall on all her old habits, but were she to lean to Eiji's side she would spill everything. Every now and then he could pull her just a little and she'd concede some sort of truth to him ("I paint"), but she always wondered what it would be like if he yanked her right off, and whether she'd be happy.
Why was she thinking about being happy right now? When the two of them were the furthest state from it? He didn't want to stay with her. He didn't want her here. Had she damaged them beyond repair? It was her initial goal to only damage Eiji into coming back to her. She never thought it would affect her any more than he already had. Yet here she stood in front of him, feeling naked and judged, and the boy didn't like what he saw. Kara felt like crying, but she couldn't.
So she started past him to the front door. But she paused, standing next to him, and he felt like fire. She daren't get too close, lest he burn her.
"I won't tell you," She told him, this being the truth. It wasn't a promise or a threat. It wasn't indignant or writ in stone. It was meant as some sort of consolidation. She knew that if he never knew, he would be better off, but telling him that she wouldn't probably wasn't going to help him forget it. Kara swallowed hard.
"I'll leave. I don't know if I'll ever see you again, so..."
So what? Kara could never verbally express what it was she felt for Eiji. At that moment she was still being held back by her own habits - she was unable to wholly articulate what she wanted him to know. But she reached out on the emotional level, encircling him with all the strange affection she had for him that she couldn't understand. Maybe he would know what it all meant. He'd probably felt this way about someone before. Self-conscious, awkward, eager for approval, yet trying not to let it all show. It might be just some sort of crush compared to what it was he felt for Elliot, but it was powerful nonetheless.
Kara then took it all back, withdrew those feelings from him, and ran down the hall, stumbling over a bend in the carpet before making it to the door. She pryed it open and sprang outside, and could go no further.
She didn't want to be found, but at the same time she wanted him to run out after her and tell her that he didn't really want her to go. It was all a mistake and that he wanted her to stay. And what shocked her the most out of this desire, was that she would too. She would do anything he requested of her. Because she knew he never would.
She huddled to a corner of the front stairs and hugged her knees to her chest, burying her head into those knees. She didn't cry. She couldn't. Kara wondered dismally how long it would take her to walk home.
{If you want me to change anything (because I'm not sure where you saw this going) I totally can. ♥}
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Post by Eiji Almasy. on Apr 9, 2009 6:25:06 GMT -5
As much as he knew what he should do, it was never going to be enough.
He had come into her dorm room that night and stood at the edge of her bed, hands jammed into his pockets as she cleared away her notebook and made room for him. The dark lines etched in his face were all too familiar, and yet there was still something foreign about his distress, and the second she had tucked away her precious red note pad, he had all but collapsed beside her. The boy had lost his shoes somewhere along the process and curled against her stomach with the most terrifyingly childlike tilt to his motions, looking guilt-ridden and heartbreaking.
Her showdown would come in the following day, her daunting and doubtlessly heartbreaking talk with Dorian would surely wreck her to the very core, and she knew that when the need to hide under his Egyptian cotton sheets and sleep away the things that haunted her came, Eiji would save her. And so she was here for him, determined to be unwavering and strong and she would lace her fingers with his and kiss that spot between his knuckles until he could salvage enough peace to fall asleep.
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