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nextinline) wrote2012-10-08 08:08 pm
nextinline) wrote2012-10-08 08:08 pm
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The daily lessons being, finally, finished with, Kellen files out of the math classroom along with his peers. Those poor, dispirited souls have another hour of bullshit to get through - mandatory prayer group, a bane of the boarding students - and Kellen's very glad to be stepping away from the general stream of sinners to head to the basement instead of the chapel. Though he does, technically, live at the school for the majority of his time, being Leech's brother and ward gives him the benefit of avoiding most of the banes of the boarding students.
It is not all benefits, though, this living with Leech. Now, for example; Leech's erstwhile 'daddy' had gotten himself incredibly beat-up and is currently languishing in Leech's (and Kellen's) bed day-in and day-out. Ruckus seems no more pleased with this arrangement than Kellen, but that doesn't engender much sympathy from the boy. He knows perfectly well that if Ruckus had not been shot, stabbed, and generally kicked into invalidity, the man would likely still be avoiding Leech ninety percent of the time. This would lead Leech to be worried, which would make him angry (with himself more than Ruckus), which would in turn make Kellen angry (definitely with Ruckus). Now that Ruckus is here and in such a pathetic prone state, Leech is able to give his worry a free rein, but - it seems to Kellen - has completely forgotten to be angry about the four months during which Ruckus had been out of contact. And forcibly has also forgotten how Ruckus will inevitably leave again, the very second he's physically capable of it, if not before.
Brooding on this brings Kellen down the flight of stairs to the basement, past the blank doors of isolation cells, and to the door of Leech's (and his) rooms. The door is locked in triplicate due to Leech's worry about Ruckus (either that the people who hurt him will somehow trace him to the school, or that Ruckus would contrive some means of escape) and the younger brother methodically unlocks the series of security measures to let himself inside.
The main room, a combination of living area and office, is empty and dark, as is the tiny kitchen. Only a faint light shows beneath the closed door to the bedroom, and Kellen hesitates, listening, before entering. Dark and empty would be preferable to semi-lit and inhabited by Ruckus, but Kellen is relieved that Leech isn't there, too. Watching Leech fawning over and coddling someone else awoke an uncomfortable jealousy in Kellen which he tried not to examine too closely, thus he spent a lot of time not watching.
Kellen drops his backpack onto the top of the sturdy metal cage to one side of the door, toes off his boots, and collapses on the unoccupied half of the bed. Movement from the other half surprises him; he'd thought Ruckus was sleeping. Not allowing that surprise to show, the kid gives the man a casual, dismissive sort of glance before starting to rummage in the bedside table's small drawer. That glance shows him that while Ruckus is not asleep, he's not precisely awake, either: lazily hooded, somewhat glazed eyes and complete relaxation in the long, battered body. He looks a lot like Jimmy tends to look after taking one of his extended breaks to the bathroom, though lacking the occasionally forgotten belt around the bicep.
Finding his own sedative of choice, Kellen slides the drawer closed and begins to prepare a joint in a routine way. He can feel Ruckus watching him blearily, but refuses to return the look, letting the silence stretch until he, at least, feels awkward in it (he doubts Ruckus feels much of anything at all).
"Leech had to deal with one'a his usual miscreants," Kellen informs the sedated man. "Said to tell you he'd be back a little later." He had also said that Kellen ought to make sure Ruckus is comfortable, but Kellen doesn't pass that on. Finishing his expert joint assembly with a quick flash of tongue across paper and a roll between long fingertips, the kid finally does peer back at Ruckus, watching him for any response - disappointment, relief, or anything in between.
It is not all benefits, though, this living with Leech. Now, for example; Leech's erstwhile 'daddy' had gotten himself incredibly beat-up and is currently languishing in Leech's (and Kellen's) bed day-in and day-out. Ruckus seems no more pleased with this arrangement than Kellen, but that doesn't engender much sympathy from the boy. He knows perfectly well that if Ruckus had not been shot, stabbed, and generally kicked into invalidity, the man would likely still be avoiding Leech ninety percent of the time. This would lead Leech to be worried, which would make him angry (with himself more than Ruckus), which would in turn make Kellen angry (definitely with Ruckus). Now that Ruckus is here and in such a pathetic prone state, Leech is able to give his worry a free rein, but - it seems to Kellen - has completely forgotten to be angry about the four months during which Ruckus had been out of contact. And forcibly has also forgotten how Ruckus will inevitably leave again, the very second he's physically capable of it, if not before.
Brooding on this brings Kellen down the flight of stairs to the basement, past the blank doors of isolation cells, and to the door of Leech's (and his) rooms. The door is locked in triplicate due to Leech's worry about Ruckus (either that the people who hurt him will somehow trace him to the school, or that Ruckus would contrive some means of escape) and the younger brother methodically unlocks the series of security measures to let himself inside.
The main room, a combination of living area and office, is empty and dark, as is the tiny kitchen. Only a faint light shows beneath the closed door to the bedroom, and Kellen hesitates, listening, before entering. Dark and empty would be preferable to semi-lit and inhabited by Ruckus, but Kellen is relieved that Leech isn't there, too. Watching Leech fawning over and coddling someone else awoke an uncomfortable jealousy in Kellen which he tried not to examine too closely, thus he spent a lot of time not watching.
Kellen drops his backpack onto the top of the sturdy metal cage to one side of the door, toes off his boots, and collapses on the unoccupied half of the bed. Movement from the other half surprises him; he'd thought Ruckus was sleeping. Not allowing that surprise to show, the kid gives the man a casual, dismissive sort of glance before starting to rummage in the bedside table's small drawer. That glance shows him that while Ruckus is not asleep, he's not precisely awake, either: lazily hooded, somewhat glazed eyes and complete relaxation in the long, battered body. He looks a lot like Jimmy tends to look after taking one of his extended breaks to the bathroom, though lacking the occasionally forgotten belt around the bicep.
Finding his own sedative of choice, Kellen slides the drawer closed and begins to prepare a joint in a routine way. He can feel Ruckus watching him blearily, but refuses to return the look, letting the silence stretch until he, at least, feels awkward in it (he doubts Ruckus feels much of anything at all).
"Leech had to deal with one'a his usual miscreants," Kellen informs the sedated man. "Said to tell you he'd be back a little later." He had also said that Kellen ought to make sure Ruckus is comfortable, but Kellen doesn't pass that on. Finishing his expert joint assembly with a quick flash of tongue across paper and a roll between long fingertips, the kid finally does peer back at Ruckus, watching him for any response - disappointment, relief, or anything in between.
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It feels like being strung out, but he's starting to notice the edges of the wallpaper of this world peeling away, and it's not the same at all.
He'd already felt lethargic, laid up at Duster's place, even before the Parasite had come to collect him like a kid who put up a hundred Lost Dog posters and finally got a call back. Now he feels something else, something that isn't quite depression - because the shit he's on doesn't really allow for weighted emotions, thats the fucking point - but beyond numb and swirled, he feels trapped.
Sure the lost dog gets to go home with it's master (he's feeling more than mind fucked at that role reversal appearing) but home turns out to be a kennel, and said master is off tending the fields. Or whatever the hell Leech does.
Butter churning? Plastic factory? No, no it has something to do with kids. Like... teaches them to talk about their feelings using a dolphin puppet or some shit like that. Whatever it is, Leech has become a boy scout troop leader, and Ruckus just lays around, prone and listless, sometimes in pain, but most of the time just trying to remember if actual heroin addiction was this... lonely? That might be the word, but he won't use it.
The Not Leech does come by, and Ruckus still isn't sure what to do with him. If the kid had a big curly mustache, than he could be sure that there was a good and evil version, and that he should only be concerned with the former, but alas, no such obvious indication had been made.
Aside from Kellen's mostly obvious outward disdain for Ruckus as a whole.
Ruckus hasn't quite figured out how to work - let along enjoy - television, so that wasn't much of a distraction, thus Kellen, being the only thing he'd seen move almost all day, was nearly a welcome entertainment source by now. "Dolphin puppets... s' time consuming..." he lists, head turned just enough that he's nearly speaking into the pillow, trying to shift a little but quickly remembering that whatever he can still feel, probably shouldn't be moved. Otherwise he might have bothered putting on a shirt today, but really, the abrasions make them itchy anyhow.
The one visible eye lazily tracks Kellen's movements around the room, hesitant and, if he would ever admit it, almost fearful of being entirely helpless in a room with someone who quite publicly would hold no remorse in your demise.
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"I'm surprised you even recognize it," he mutters, covering up for this moment of kindness. "But since you do, why don't you spend any time appreciating the one that you do have?" If grumbling and discontent, the question isn't too acidic, and sounds genuinely curious.
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