dyanne’s
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(group member since Jun 21, 2015)
dyanne’s
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from the Ridgeport Preparatory Academy group.
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IDK IF ANYONE'S ALREADY DONE SO AND IF THEY HAVE I APOLOGISE BUT I'M CLAIMING CODY CHRISTIAN JUST 'COS^ and oops caps lock which i'm too lazy to retype
Zeke startled as the other boy finished his sentence, the answer surprising him. He stopped fidgeting and bit his lip, thinking about the reply before suddenly bursting into a laugh. Zeke's laughs were always unexpected. He was the kid who got the punchline hours after everyone else did, whose laughter erupted with no warning except for the invisible surge of dopamine in his brain. It was warm and loud and infectious, and for a moment, he forgot about biology and getting hit in the balls and remembered why he and Arend were friends. Arend was literally the goalie to his striker. But Arend could also make Zeke laugh.
The ball landed at his feet before Zeke had a chance to see Arend throw it and the boy plopped down into the grass, tossing the ball between his hands as the other boy had only seconds before, grinning wildly at the boy whose smile was like a secret, one which held the potential to save the world, or maybe destroy it, depending on who you asked.
Hey, what do you think Hemingway felt when he killed himself? Where did that come from? But then again, where did any of the thoughts caged in Arend's skinny frame come from? If Zeke was more observant, he would've known that the mood had shifted before the ball left Arend's fingertips, releasing innocent banalities and capturing something else. But Zeke didn't know anything, all he knew was that all of a sudden the blue sky seemed grayer and his friend's smile was tinted with an emotion unknown to Zeke, a darkness which lurked from the corners of Arend's face.
"I-Well-Um-" He took a moment to think. Why did Hemingway commit suicide? But then again, why did anybody? Zeke thought that more than anything, it was emptiness. A void in the soul that could never be replenished. Maybe the unknown forces of death were more comforting than whatever dark demons were exploding behind their eyelids.
"Maybe he just stopped caring," Zeke started slowly, the hesitance deafening his words. "Maybe... Maybe someone told him hope wasn't real and he believed them."
so i'm going up to the LA area for the rest of the weekwe'll have wi-fi in the hotel
but i'm not bringing my laptop which means everything will be on mobile
bUT i swear that i will get around to finishing all my characters this weekend
wowwwowwowthere's a lot of groups i'm in just because i'm a very nostalgic, clingy person by nature when it comes to these sorts of things
Zeke might've added yet another embarassing fail that involved someone getting hurt had it not been Arend at the recieving end of Zeke's purely unintentional blow. Seeing how it was Arend, Zeke merely watched with a slightly bemused expression as the other boy expertly caught the ball with the same old grin, one that spoke of mischief and short attention spans and lightning quick reflexes.
Everything about Arend spoke of agility, whether it was his ability to block just about every object that came in his way or his ability to bounce from one subject to the next like an energizer bunny on steroids. When Arend lowered the ball, Zeke braced himself for the inevitable moment where Arend would catapult the ball in his direction without warning and accidentally end up hitting Zeke in either a) the head or b) the balls, neither of which sounded very favorable in any given circumstance.
"What? No!" Zeke exclaimed, bristling with defensiveness as if Arend was the infamous Mrs. Jacobsen herself, come to further his misery in another person's body. He took a couple steps backwards, eyes still focused on the soccer ball in a wary, mistrusting manner before he looked back up at Arend and melted. "I mean, yeah, but, like, we don't do anything in that class, besides learning about... about..." What did they learn about?
