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Post by ISA KRISTOFF on Apr 7, 2015 2:24:47 GMT
it's already late when they get back (he doesn't do this anymore), he won't go to work tomorrow. so he sits - reads, to distract himself - with virgil until he comes down, until his head is weighing on isa's shoulder. he nudges him awake, tells him to go to bed, he'll catch up. he doesn't. isa wakes up, sitting on the couch, book on the floor, a kink in his neck. VIRGIL MARION |
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Post by VIRGIL MARION on Apr 7, 2015 2:46:21 GMT
he wakes up in bed, covered in sweat and gross. he's hungry, tired and feels like an american student in debt, absolutely fucking shitty. it takes a while for him to gather up the motivation to get out of bed, but when he does he b-lines for the kitchen. he walks past the couch, not sparing a glance and pulls open the fridge without restraint. there's a shitton of cheese (not really), pudding, a random assortment of lunchables (which virgil, of course, bought) and cold, leftover pizza from a couple of nights ago. the sight of food makes virgil gag, and then his gagging makes him run to the nearest place (the sink) where he vomits up whatever he had last night and maybe a little more.
he groans, washing off his face and then watching whatever was in his stomach slowly move to and then down the drain. "i fucking-," he stops midway because his throat hurts too much. he groans again.
ISA KRISTOFF
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Post by ISA KRISTOFF on Apr 7, 2015 3:29:44 GMT
he sits up, stretches, trying to massage the knot loose. as bad as he feels, he's sure virgil feels worse - isa watches impassively as he stumbles past. isa stands up, a little surprised at the bold thoughts of breakfast that virgil is having when he pulls open the fridge. he almost expects it when he runs, retching, to the sink. though that doesn't make it any more pleasant, doesn't muffle the sounds or stop the smell. he lights a cigarette as if to smoke out the stench of vomit. "coffee?" he says simply. before he can start a pot, he pauses, steps up to virgil and lifts his head with a hand at his chin. isa studies the bruising, already darkened, the subtle swell in his features. he grabs a dish towel, dries off virgil's face - not with any deliberate harshness, but neither taking particular care. he wonders if he should feel any sympathy. VIRGIL MARION |
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Post by VIRGIL MARION on Apr 7, 2015 3:40:49 GMT
virgil almost winces against the press of the dish towel, key word almost. in all honesty, he's forgotten about the fight from last night (he's forgotten most of last night, actually) and it doesn't really it doesn't hurt. his first instinct is to move away, he's not sure why. perhaps he's just not used to this, whatever this is exactly.
if anything, it makes him uncomfortable and though he bites his tongue, he does step back from isa. "i'm fine," he says, before grinning like a fool, like nothing's fucking wrong and he's perfectly fine. "i'll take a no on the coffee, don't think the stomach will handle it well."
he almost beats around the bush, almost lets the question rest on the tip of his tongue but he forces it off as he pulls himself onto a counter top. "what happen last night?"
ISA KRISTOFF
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Post by ISA KRISTOFF on Apr 8, 2015 2:56:15 GMT
isa shrugs, brews a pot anyways because he'll need it. he's running on fumes, past the point of feeling tired, but he'll need something to carry him through the day. he tosses the towel aside carelessly, takes a drag, watching virgil evenly as he leans up on the counter beside him. "you called." he doesn't know anything before that, beyond the drowsy recollection of the rambling phone call. "then when i picked you up, you tried to get out of the moving car." he pauses. he's not sure how to say the rest. not without making himself sound incompetent or celebrated. VIRGIL MARION |
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Post by VIRGIL MARION on Apr 8, 2015 4:22:38 GMT
"i remember that," vaguely, barely. he remembers his phone against his face, lightly. he remembers punching the living daylights out of someone, he remembers getting kicked out. he remembers he hasn't touched his phone since he woke up and he almost leaves to get it but-
self-control virgil, self-control.
- he doesn't. "i don't remember that though." everything else is bright lights, shaky cam and slurred words he won't attempt to bring himself to understand. "i'm sorry about that, about what me on a bad high did." i guess. he's not really sure, he can't remember what happen, and what he does remember is bright lights and aching pains. he's sure he'll get a headache from just trying to remember, so he stops. "what happen when i tried to get out?" he'd almost like to admit he's scared of the answer.
ISA KRISTOFF
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Post by ISA KRISTOFF on Apr 8, 2015 5:02:05 GMT
he's not angry. he's had his share of bad highs and he's done his share of awful things. he remembers what it's like - isa's not proud or reformed or clean. sighing, he doesn't look at virgil. "i stopped the car." he says tersely, as if he had taken rational action. "hit a pole."VIRGIL MARION |
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Post by VIRGIL MARION on Apr 21, 2015 3:03:12 GMT
"oh," he doesn't know what else to say and it slips from his lips before he can stop it. again, he's almost scared to ask but a marion doesn't show fear (remember what happen when you did? not a pretty picture to re-paint for yourself huh) and he asks anyway. "how bad was it?"
ISA KRISTOFF
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Post by ISA KRISTOFF on Apr 23, 2015 3:51:49 GMT
"not bad." not good either - isa thinks of the damage with a hint of bitterness, but his tone is remarkably calm. "it's just body damage. i'll take it in today." virgil looks as if he expects him to snap. at least virgil seems concerned, but isa is waiting for him to make reparations. VIRGIL MARION |
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Apr 28, 2015 23:22:29 GMT
Post by VIRGIL MARION on Apr 28, 2015 23:22:29 GMT
he hesitates for a moment and silence settles between them. "i can cover the costs if you want," he says. "or make it up to you, or whatever." he kind of waves off his own words, unsure of them as a whole. he's not afraid of isa's reactions by any means, but he finds himself hesitating, awkward even. he's not sure why, but he ignores it for now. (in all honesty, he feels like there's something hanging in the air, but he ignores it. just like he ignores it everything else, ignorance is bliss he supposes).
ISA KRISTOFF blah
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