umbralla | [for romain]

[for romain]

[It's not hard to find Ghyslain when he's not in class or the dorms - he doesn't go out a lot, and when there aren't classes in the music room, he'll most likely be there. How often do you find a giant grand piano to play, after all? Even his family had a much smaller one, slightly out of tune, which grated on someone with such a natural ear when he came back from lessons and had to practice on it.

Today he's playing something he remembers his older sister listening to; not his kind of music, but the musician was damn good on piano, so the melodies stick out and he picks them out when he hasn't got a song in mind. It's slow at first, then picks up to the actual speed of the song, light and flourishing.

He's clearly in his own world, pale eyes dreamy and head swaying back and forth. In a soft, deep voice, he tries to translate the lyrics he can remember, but they come without scansion and rhyme because it's so off the top of his head.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I got orange.

[so he goes on and fishes it out of the fridge, returning to the bed with the can in his hand. it's cool and fresh and he's totally the perfect host.]

[He is. Ghyslain is quite admiring, in a cute sort of starry-eyed way. He can't believe that whatever they have, he has it with this boy. It's even enough to wash away the ugly stain of what happened with Fallon.

Almost. That reality does have to be faced.]

I will try to reason with him. He is not inhuman. [He accepts the soda and cracks it open, glancing down curiously.] This is orange soda, ouais?

Whatever I can do, you let me know. Even if it's switching out his coffee for mud.

[in that train of thought, with Ghyslain's question -]

... Yes. I promise that's not mud.

[Has he ever laughed this much in one person's company? He doesn't think so. He's naturally a rather brooding person, and he knows it well enough.]

I do not think a war of pranks would help. But it would be very... satisfying.

Hey, it's the least I can do.

[no, really. Pranks from Romain can be a total nightmare.]

Salt and sugar is the classic one. Foot cream and toothpaste. Liquid soap and glue. I can go on forever.

Foot cream? [He's imagining toothpaste that tastes like feet, but that's not right at all. He needs more information.] For what do you use foot cream?

[The disgust on his face makes it plain that he's not curious about foot care - he wants to know what the hell Romain is putting in peoples' mouths.

... so. to. speak.]

... What do you think?

[he has to laugh a bit.]

Don't worry, I won't do it to you. Probably.

[before Ghyslain panics-]

I'm kidding!

Fongus? [He knows that happens on feet. Is he putting anti-fungal in peoples' mouths.

... whoops, there's the giggle again.]

C'est dégoûtant, Romain!

Non! Habituellement, c'est seulement pour la peau sèche. The point is, it's supposed to be disgusting. That's why it's a prank!

[learn little boy learn.]

A prank does not have to be disgusting. [Ha, nope, he's fighting you on this one. Because EW.] I can simply move things, or take them away. If I like, I can make someone feel a touch that seems to come from nowhere.

[That... wasn't meant to be suggestive.]

So they think they're haunted or something?

[Because, uh. He's tried that before. Rather, someone has tried it on him.]

Peut-être. I have not done these things, but I can. I do not know what one would think.

[Maybe he wanted to look like a bit of a badass for Romain. Maybe. And maybe he's still out to impress, because:]

Once I have unlocked a door. And a file cabinet.

A file cabinet? [that interests him, so he adjusts his position a bit.] What were you looking for?

[And they're right back to this shady, shady school.]

I get many punishments for defending myself, non? So I looked at Mme. Brant's file on me. [He shakes his head vigorously.] The records, they are not what she is told.

... What are they?

[he did always get a bad feeling from her.]

It is not lying, not completely, but - [Here's another thing he never imagined telling anyone, but Romain already knows about Fallon. If he's digging himself a hole by doing this, it can't get that much deeper, can it?] - somehow, everyone is at fault. I am not sure of the word, but no one is given any -

[Nope, he can't get to it. What he means is mitigating circumstances, genuine reasons rather than excuses, things like self-defense, for god's sake: no consideration, just their acts, in the worst light possible.]

Everyone's at a fault. [he pauses to think about that.] Like they consider all of us dangerous?

Non...

[That's not really the feeling he got from it. But that feeling is even harder to put into words.]

I believe - it is only my own impression, but I believe that she enjoys the act. Punishment.

[Again, in no way meant to be suggestive. Just gleaned from the files he looked through (more than his own, but that's an admission he's already made in his own oblique way), and the fact that she seemed to deliver discipline for everything possible. And some impossible things, by twisting the truth as he said. To say nothing of how horribly unfair and cruel some of them were (why did one boy have to plaster a wall in Miles's room simply because he was there when Miles made it, and how did Miles end up back in the room during that punishment if the first infraction angered him so much?)]

That's creepy as hell.

[but he did sleep with a woman how can form an entire army of blind followers in a second. They're surrounded by power abuse no matter where they go, aren't they. Fuck.]

I wonder if she's doing it on her own.

Her records, they are not... it is not obvious, if you did not give a report yourself.

[That's how he spotted the pattern, seeing the way his own words were twisted. But it may only be her, is what he wants to say. They don't need to lose faith in the whole school.

Although as much as he wants to stay for the prestige of the degree, he nearly has already.]

... You really should be a spy. Uncover all this stuff so everybody knows what these guys are doing.

[It feels like a compliment, but the subject matter is far too dark for him to take any warmth from it. Expose the school once he's made a name for himself, have all of these people purged from it so that the next generation can be raised and taught in a safer environment. He never saw himself doing something so great.

It would reflect poorly on the gifted community, which wouldn't help back home. But on him? He'd be improving things.

What a very selfish thought. But he can't shake it.]

Aider-moi. Je peux révéler tout quand j'ai un titre propre, quand ils ne peuvent pas m'ignorer.

Je suis là. Avec toi.

[he never saw himself doing something like that, but. Look at how Ghyslain has been wronged. Multiply that by the thousands of kids in all the schools.]

Hey, drink up. It's gonna lose all the fizz.

[It's his turn to reach for Romain's hand, give it a little squeeze as he exhales out his excitement and nervousness in a shaky breath. This doesn't feel like retribution or heroism or anything like that to him - just something that needs to be done, and he's in a good position to do it.

(And maybe it'll be treated a bit like heroism and maybe he'd like that attention. Everyone's a little bit ugly.)

He releases the hand quickly, though, taking a sip of his drink as ordered.]

This has grown from pranks. [It's said lightly, but with that ever-incisive gaze trained on Romain.]

[even if it's a meaningful gesture, Romain finds it really cute. Weird that they were never friends before. They get along so well despite their stark differences.

He watches Ghyslain distractedly for a moment, and then finally decides to ask:]

Wanna make out?

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