rory. *- - i'm a mess, i'm a mess.

[alexandre tristan moore]

I CAN FEEL IT, HIGHER AND HIGHER

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s e v e n t e n i n c h e s o f f t h e g r o u n d .

A light breeze was stirred up as Alexandre made his way in between the headstones of the cemetery. He hadn't meant to stumble upon the area, he just wanted to find another place to hide away in when he needed to sit and just relax in. The cemetery would probably be the best place, since apparently everyone at Bellevue avoided it for some reason. Maybe it was that death of the student at the school.

Alex didn't know, he wasn't there at the time. And even if he was, he would've probably tried to help the poor student out; Clark was it? It was just the way Alex thought. Even though he didn't want to at all. He hated that his gran was right all the time about helping others. He didn't care about the other kids, they just wanted to be his friend for the amount of cash he had on stock. He didn't like it, but he couldn't help it. It was like he had an obligation to help someone who seemed it.

Glancing up from his thoughts, Alexandre wandered near a small clearing in the cemetery. There was a stone bench nearby, weeds overgrown near it as well. Alexandre sighed quietly at the sound of the leaves rustling in the trees and wished he had brought his camera. He probably could have taken some wonderful shots, but his need to find someplace to get away from the high school's endless drama. He wondered if things would still be the same if that kid was still around. Maybe it wouldn't stop and he'd off himself later on.

His gran was adamant about constantly talking to him about 'getting help if you need it' and sometimes she preached 'you don't need to do it alone, Xandre, there's people to help you out.' Rolling his eyes at the thought, Alexandre plopped himself down on the grass in front of the stone bench. Leaning against the bench, Alex closed his eyes as he tried to decide on whether or not he should run back and get his camera.

Nah, the breeze was alright and it wasn't like the place was going to disappear on him as soon as he left. Smiling slightly to himself, he drifted in and out of a doze. The leaves and the birds in the background echoed back and forth in somewhat of a tranquil, calm melody as he relaxed. Who knew cemeteries weren't just for mourning your loved ones and friends?

tagged: rory. word count: #430
lyrics: catching sparks, the spill canvas
notes: ahaa. my intros are always so short wtf.

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[rory anderson cook]

BUT I'M STUCK IN THIS FUCKING RUT
waiting on a second hand pick me up
( and I'm over , getting older ! )

It was not strange for Rory to be out of his house to walk, although one could argue that it was strange for him to leave his house, that it was strange for him to leave his games and electronics, and that it was strange for him to leave the comfort of his room. He was comfortable that way, sitting in his room alone. It was the way he liked things and the way he wanted them to stay for the time being. Sometimes people were just annoying and just didn't make. They didn't understand things and were just cruel a lot of the time, it was utterly ridiculous. Thus he liked the way that things were.

Flip-flops hit the pavement as Rory made his way across the street. There was something so comforting about the constant sound of the flat shoes hitting the ground in a rhythmic pattern. He honestly had no idea where he was going, or why he was going that way. He only knew that a cigarette was sure to make the whole exciting adventure better. Rory pushed his hand into his pocket and pulled out his package of cowboy killers and cheap bic lighter. He flicked open the top of the carton and took out one of the paper cylinders and placed it between his lips. He lit the end of his cigarette before putting his carton and his lighter back into his pocket.

His eyes were focused on the ground as it shifted from sidewalk to grass. The mystery of where he was going was solved as he looked up and was faced with the sight of grave stones. As morbid as it was, graveyards were peaceful and pleasant to be around. There was rarely a crowd hanging about the area, and why would there be? Rory continued to wander through the grassy region; he avoided walking over where people were buried, that was just ever so strange to think about. Rory inhaled gently, taking a nice long drag from his cigarette. He could almost feel the smoke curling down the tiny passages in his lungs, filling them with tar and tobacco turning them black. It was his vice, his nicotine hit was the only drug he required to get through his normal day. It all started when he was fourteen, fourteen and influenced to try it in a school parking lot of all places. He was quickly hooked on the disease causing sticks. His parents weren't too fond of his little addiction, but it was something that they'd had to learn with; he held no desire to quit.

Rory's gaze fell on a familiar face, a ghost of a smile spread over his lips as he took his cigarette out of his mouth with his fingers. He let the toxic air escape his lips slowly while he walked over to where his friend was stationed. His fingers placed the cigarette back in between his lips again as he took a seat on the cement bench next to his sleeping friend. He inhaled a little more of his cigarette before he put it out on the bench.

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outfit; that was absolutely terrible; 524

[alexandre tristan moore]

I CAN FEEL IT, HIGHER AND HIGHER

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s e v e n t e n i n c h e s o f f t h e g r o u n d .

Alexandre wasn't the one who would actually fall asleep in such an obscure place, but he was tired. He hadn't slept much since his gran was making sure he was adjusting and coping with his parents' death. That was always a sore subject. He didn't tell his gran, how could he tell her? 'Hey gran, I kind of killed your son and daughter in-law?' Yeah, that would work out just fucking dandy. Exhaling slowly through his nose Alexandre tried to quit thinking.

It was the reason he wasn't getting sleep anyway. He just wanted to stop thinking for a while, just so he could hear the silence in his mind. It was better than being surrounded by other people who wanted nothing but to manipulate him into buying drugs, alcohol and girls to fuck. Huh. That was another thing he thought about a lot. His old boyfriend, which lead up to the fight with his parents. Maybe it could have been avoided if he was a good little straight boy.

Haha. Yeah right. He probably would have still been a trouble maker and still fucked something up and caused his parents to keel over. Alex's attempts at trying to catch up with some rest were failing the longer he lingered on his thoughts. His lips turned downward at the realization. He needed an off button for his thoughts. Seriously. Maybe then he'd be able to get some rest or something. But apparently his mind had other reasons for keeping him up because he registered the sounds of someone approaching.

The rhythmic sounds of flip flops against grass echoed in Alexandre's ears as he cracked an eye open. Alex smirked slightly at the sight of his friend, before closing his eye and sighing. He could hear the sound of a breath being let out and then the smell of smoke. His gran would probably have a heart attack if he came back home with the smell of smoke on him.

It wasn't like Alex had done it before, it was just done so his gran didn't smell the cancer causing smoke at all. He would come home smelling like a cheap French whore from hanging around in the little perfume shops in the mall, but it would hide the smell of the smoke. Lips lifting up in an amused smile at the memory, Alex finally opened his eyes to see that his friend was already on the bench near him.

Scooting over and glancing up at the boy, Alexandre made a face. "Hi you. Cancer sticks and a walk through the cemetery? Nice day, huh?" Alex's voice was obviously laced with his usual cocky tone. He couldn't help it, it was just how he talked. It was to always throw off others who thought it would be a great idea to try to befriend Alexandre so they could get a free ride with the amount of money he had in his possession.

tagged: rory. word count: #504
lyrics: catching sparks, the spill canvas
notes: ahaa. fail.

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[rory anderson cook]

BUT I'M STUCK IN THIS FUCKING RUT
waiting on a second hand pick me up
( and I'm over , getting older ! )

Rory smirked listening to his friend "Oh yeah, It's how I spend all of my weekends." he said sarcastically. He couldn't say that he'd ever actually been in the cemetery before, he usually stuck to the streets when he decided to walk aimlessly around the town. It was just easier that way, the town was easy to navigate mainly because he knew his way. He'd never actually been in the cemetery or in one in general. They were just something he never really thought about, even with that kid that died. Rory never spoke to him, sure it was sad and shocking, but he didn't shed a tear. "Besides, the cigarette would have happened no matter what. It's just safer not to hang out of your bedroom window. Or so I've been told." He shrugged nonchalantly. Hanging out of his window was how he'd used to smoke before his parents found out.

Rory cocked his head, his day was as nice as it could be when your parents all but violently shoved you out of the front door for fresh air. Parents always said they had the best intentions, but when they practically kicked their children out of the house it was not the best intention. They hadn't even given him sunblock, he didn't have the best resistance to that shit. "Yeah I suppose it is a nice day." He said pursing his lips watching Alexandre closely. Something in his voice always made Rory feel small and insignificant. It was something that he just accepted as normal. Everyone was different in the way they interacted with people, he just assumed that this was his normal way of talking with people.

"So uh... Taking a nap in the cemetery. Slow day?" He commented, running a tattooed hand through his hair. "I mean I usually choose something soft and cloudlike, but I mean I guess this is cool too." Rory shrugged again nonchalantly to help his point. This was the first time he'd ever heard of someone falling asleep in a cemetery.

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outfit; that was even worse. x-x i'm sorry; inaccurate with the speech and whatnot.

[alexandre tristan moore]

I CAN FEEL IT, HIGHER AND HIGHER

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s e v e n t e n i n c h e s o f f t h e g r o u n d .

"Oh yeah, It's how I spend all of my weekends."

Alexandre's lips curled upward into an amused smile at Rory's response. "Besides, the cigarette would have happened no matter what. It's just safer not to hang out of your bedroom window. Or so I've been told." Alexandre shook his head, amused at the nonchalant shrug. It probably was safer, but Alexandre never did do any of that stuff at home with his gran around, but he did do a few illicit acts out and away from gran's prying and hawk-like eyes.

He would have been slaughtered if gran found out about everything. Well, Alex wasn't completely sure about the whole slaughtering business with his gran, but he didn't want to take the chance. Moving his head from its perch on the bench Alexandre looked up at the slow moving clouds above in the sky. He sometimes wished he was a cloud, not one worry or a care at all. He didn't have to put up with people constantly faking it to get close to Alex.

"Yeah I suppose it is a nice day." Nodding absentmindedly, Alex ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up completely before it resettled itself. That was probably the sole reason he kept his hair like one of those typical emo-like hair cuts. He didn't have to worry much about keeping it prim and proper. He just rolled out of bed and wal-lah. It was still pretty awesome looking without the constant effort and keeping it neat. His gran liked harping on him because of his inability to make friends with a hairbrush.

It amused him that his gran would nag him, just like his mom used to do. It kind of made him feel a bit sad at the memory, but Alex could totally ignore it. He didn't like them after all, so why should he feel sad at that? He much preferred his gran over his parents, they only cared about appearances. His gran didn't and it made him feel wanted in the world. "So uh... Taking a nap in the cemetery. Slow day?" Glancing up at the sound of Rory's voice, Alexandre snorted and rolled his eyes at the male.

"I'm just trying new things, you know? Variety is the spice of life and all that shit," Giving Rory his trademark smarmy smirk, Alex shrugged. He really didn't know how he fell asleep in the middle of the cemetery, but it wasn't all that bad. There wasn't anyone to bother him and it was peaceful. Though maybe he could've used something as a pillow, stone benches were probably not as soft as a goose feather pillow would be.

"I mean I usually choose something soft and cloud like, but I mean I guess this is cool too." Chuckling, Alexandre waved a hand in the air. "Eh, it's quiet here and once you get past the fact you could be sitting on top of a rotting corpse, it's just fantastic," Alex replied, his voice laced with his usual amount of cockiness.

tagged: rory. word count: #531
lyrics: catching sparks, the spill canvas
notes: blehh.

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