Great Minds Think Alike

[bandit]

Maciej, bag slung over shoulder, walked through the last part of the maze, reaching the middle after only a few minutes, only because he came here everyday. The boy glanced at his watch, seeing it was a quarter to six in the morning, and grimaced, slightly upset. He usually arrived earlier, but this morning he had a few setbacks. One, his alarm clock, set for a ridiculously early time in the morning, was off by one hour, so he woke up late. Then, the clothes he had so carefully placed for himself the night before had disappeared, and this only made him more aggravated as he had to then pick out his clothes from there. These things that didn't really make a big deal drove the boy insane, and he was finally, or so he thought, back on track, only to arrive fifteen minutes late. However, Maciej had to agree to himself that perhaps it was alright; he could admit he made pretty decent timing with the {very few} obstacles he had to face this morning, and it did kinda wake him up...

No; he was still upset.

Shaking his head and muttering some inaudible curses under his breath, the boy located a bench closest to him, not bothering to look for a specifically empty one, since all of them were empty. This is why he woke up so early and did all these things, so he could come here and read his book before anyone got to the fountain. He never expected to see anyone in the fountain at this time of the morning, believing that a majority of students here at little hellhole Cassis (he liked to call it that for some reason) just weren't very bright. It amused him how it never seemed to occur to most of these students that if you want to get some time alone, then you must simply wake up incredibly early, do all such things one must do in the beginning hours of the day, and then go to the place where you wanted to be by yourself. But, it's not like he was complaing, because if everyone had the same idea, then they'd all do the same thing, though they're plan would never succeed, and they would only continue complaning.

And that wouldn't help him, because he couldn't stand hearing other people complain. They thought they had it so bad, so horrible, when there were other people in the world who wished they could have a piece of bread. People dying of cancer, starving children in Africa, terrorists here, there, and everywhere. And, most importantly, it was annoying when they did all these things around him, because it aggravated him to no end, and pissed him off insanely. He didn't need to take all their problems; it's not like he was going to drop what they're doing to help them and all their needs, and it's not like anyone else was going to do it either. They had to suck it up and take it whether they wanted to or not, and he loved telling these kinds of things to people's faces, because he enjoyed seeing their expression change when they realized he was right, they were wrong, and that they were stupid for even trying to go against him in the first place.

Shrugging and pushing these thoughts away with a wave of his hand, Maciej sat down on the bench, set his bag on the side, and then took out his book, opening to about the middle of it and reading from the top of the page to the left (his left) because even though he had already read it, he wanted to refresh his mind of what had already happened so that he could understand and continue along the storyline. After a few minutes, he flipped the pages with his fingers, now holding the book with one hand while the other rested upon the surface of the bench, his fingertips drumming lightly against the wood that made up the seat.

[Deon]

Day Four Without Sleep.

That's how she had started keeping track of the time. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday... All the names and dates jumbled together in her mind and blurred in her dark-ringed eyes. She had been restlessly pacing the school by night, traveling to places on campus she hadn't really been to before, all the while locked up with her mind and her thoughts. She shuddered involuntarily at the notion.

The gray light of the morning illuminated her path while she watched in awe at the feet that weren't hers, but moved on their own accord to send her to wherever they felt. She was so detached from her body; so detached from physical pain and pleasure, leaving her all too attune to the mental anguish that seemed to never go away. To the confusion... to the doubt... She had succumbed to the worst possible thing and she hated herself for it. She started to doubt the life that she knew, as she knew it... and doubt, unsureness--it's the most dangerous thing. More dangerous even than being wrong and blissfully ignorant. It's painful, it's fearful, without any kind of anchor to the world of what is right. Mornings and nights were the worst times for it. When she was alone, with no one to talk to, wanting desperately for something to tell her yes or no while at the same time refusing to acknowledge anyone or anything else... She was starting to create her own contradictions. Something must be wrong. But what? What indeed. The question tormented her.

She could vaguely hear the water of the fountain through her fog, a sort of comforting sound that she followed out of reflex, her feet guiding her through the maze that she barely even realized she was in. She didn't often go here, finding it too private, but at the same time too populated. f**ing contradictions wouldn't leave her mind alone.

She didn't notice the lone figure sitting on the bench as she walked over to the fountain, dipping her hand in the water's changing colors that paled by the light of morning. It was cool to the touch, reminding her of the lake on campus where she was temporarily washed of all her thoughts. Her bony fingers reached into her pocket, and she pulled out a small coin. She turned her back to the fountain, shut her eyes, and flipped it back behind her into the water with a tiny splash. When she opened her eyes, she noticed for the first time the boy reading. Her lips opened slightly in surprise, but let out no sound. She froze, not wanting to be noticed as she stared at his fingers that were tapping out a rhythm. Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't notice her.

[bandit]

Maciej continued reading, averting his eyes slightly when he heard someone new come. His hand that was wrapping around the book, and was also holding it, clenched up in annoyance, already not liking his stay, and it had only been about ten minutes. He watched with his pale blue gaze as the girl carried on as though he weren't here, and noted the dark rings around her eyes with a bemused look before shrugging it off. He set back to reading, starting over again from the top of the right page because she had, in a way 'ruined' his focus. Before he had been so wrapped up in the story, though obviously not wrapped up enough to be oblvious to his surroundings, and now he felt as though he couldn't concentrate.

His eyes were reading but his mind was wandering on about what would happen if she didn't leave. He wondered if they would work out together or reject each other immediatly; he was beginning to get fed up all because of one small error she had made, but he knew, and he hated to admit it, he couldn't judge someone just like that. Well, he shouldn't judge someone like that, but it's not like he was going to live his life by that statement. Shutting his eyes and mouthing the words of some other language, he directed his attention back to his book, his fingers still tapping in the rythmic motion they had been doing so before. Except this time he wasn't even close in getting back into the book, because something was wrong.

Maciej couldn't take it. Almost angrily, he looked up, only to see the girl looking at him, frozen. "Eh? Que voulez-vous?" the black-haired boy inquired quite rudely, and then realized he should probably have some manners. As to why he cared was beyond him, maybe because if he couldn't get back into his book, he should at least keep himself occupied with something, or someone. " Comment est-ce que je peux vous aider, Mlle?" he then questioned, forcing himself to sound a little more...welcoming, if you want to call it that.

Translation: Eh? What do you want?
How can I help you, Miss?

[Deon]

Dementia's mouth dropped open in surprise as Maciej started speaking in French. She gasped slightly, her voice catching in her throat. He sounded exactly like her father when he spoke. It brought back memories of times that she didn't want to relive. She couldn't bring herself to speak in her native tongue, but hastily replied.

"I don't want anything, and I don't need your help," she spat, angrily, rudely, defensively. She backed up to get away from him and nearly fell into the fountain, her arms waving wildly as she struggled to regain her balance. She looked around for an escape, realizing that she had no idea how she even came here. Her feet had done that on their own accord.

Dementia felt sick with herself, utterly loathing her reaction to this moment. She was running away, running and hiding from a few French words. She couldn't believe that she wasn't even able to deal with the happenings of her own life, her own past. She didn't run from anything. Nothing. It was who she was. She was strong, ruthless, and now she was exhibiting the actions of the weaklings that she so detested... the ones that didn't deserve to live. All because of an annoyed teenager whom she accidentally disturbed during his reading. God, god, what was wrong with her? What was going on? She was really losing it... really breaking apart... She wanted so badly just to sink into the boring monotony of a normal school life, but her mind was unwilling to let go. Dammit. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn! She was damning herself and herself alone. It was her fault. All her fault. All her weakness.

[bandit]

He watched as she nearly fell back into the fountain, and rolled his eyes, groaning loudly. "Bon, parce que je n'ai pas besoin de prendre votre bullcrap. Stop flipping out on me, et si vous recherchez la sortie, elle est vers votre gauche." he retorted sharply, leaning towards him not liking this girl. Well, either that or she was like him, but he was in a very annoyed mood right now. He quickly urged her on, not bothering to even be nice to this girl. "Affrettare in su, io vorrebbe essere solo un certo tempo oggi." he ordered rigidly, preparing himself to stand up and push her out of the maze himsel if she couldn't move fast enough. He felt as though she were being ridiculous, what was wrong with this person? And why the hell was she so skinny?

She seems like some anorexic insomniac, he thought to himself, blinking at her as though to get a view. The incomniac part seemed correct, and if he wasn't mistaken, she was probably suffering from some eating disorder. He almost growled at this point, speaking suddenly again, but in a more outraged tone, "Sortir ici de toi le morceau maigre de merde! Et ne pas me dire que vous avez du désordre stupide de manger, parce que je n'achète pas ce genre de chose." Now the boy was scolding her for being so skinny, going on about how he wasn't going to take it. Shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest, he shut his eyes and breathed deeply, grabbing his book and opening to the page where he had left off.

{{Sorry this post sucks...}}

Translation: Good, because I don't need to take your bullcrap, and if you're looking for the exit, it's to your left.
Hurry up, I want to be alone some time today.
Leave here you the skinny piece of crap! And don't tell me that you have some stupid disorder to eat, because I don't buy that.

[Deon]

The boy shouldn't have started yelling at Dementia, for she probably would have left without a fight. Her eyes were indignant as she started regaining some of her familiar confidence in the face of a bad-tempered idiot.

"Merci, monsieur. Je suis sûr que je n'aurais jamais calculé qu'hors me." she sarcastically spat, finally mustering enough strength to retort to him in the language he chose to speak. The beautiful language sounded strange in such a tone meant for whispers between lovers. "J'irai à mon propre rhythme!" This guy was really enraging her. He provided a distraction, one that she needed, but brought up different kinds of memories and ways of life that she didn't want to re-experience. He acted as if this entire place belonged to him! Yeah, right. He should have been around when she tried to be alone to go skinny dipping. Look how well that worked out. He wanted to be alone, huh? So what? Did he honestly think that she would care? She would sure as hell let him know how much she really wanted to make sure his needs were met.

"Et je ne soigne pas vraiment si vous voulez être seul, parce que vos besoins ne m'ont pas d'importance à tout." Her voice was starting to turn into an angry snarl the more this conversation continued. One thought echoed through her head: Good luck making me move.

And so now he was going to insult her body. What did he know? She wasn't trying to be starved. Hell, if she could hold down a whole chocolate cake, she'd damn well eat the whole chocolate cake! It took a lot of energy to regenerate and copy cells in her body, and she just couldn't replenish the calories fast enough. He glared at her like it was her own fault, like she was lesser than he was because of it. She put a hand on her bony, protruding hip-bones.

"Un désordre alimentaire?" she repeated, her voice capturing the sound of an angry retort. "Ouais, sûr. Vous semblez comme un grand juge de caractère et comme la perfection physique, le petit gosse de emo." she told him as she eyed his form. Then he started to ignore her and go back to reading his book! Wrong move, asshole. She lifted up her hand, and, with perfect aim, shot some of the bones in her arm with just enough force to embed themselves within the book.

"Hmph. Je ne crois pas cela."



Translation: Thanks, sir. I'm sure I would have never figured that out myself.
I'll go at my own pace!
And I really don't care if you want to be alone, because your needs don't matter to me at all.
An eating disorder?
Yeah, sure. You seem like a great judge of character and bodily perfection, little emo kid.
Hmph. I don't buy that.

((I speak horrible French in reality... Go online translators!))