[Thread] Zexion..is angry

[percipience.livejournal.com]

Who: Lana, Zexion
What: Argument?
When: After This some time http://community.livejournal.com/paradisalogs/92742.html
Where: Zexion's room
Rating: PG-13


Lana was embarrassed....HORRIBLY embarrassed but they hadn't really...DONE anything. Not anything she could regret so...that was good. That was very good. At least it was just embarrassing instead of disastrous. Zexion, however, was apparently very upset. She imagined he had a terrible hangover from how upset he sounded in his journal. She felt terrible. She'd ordered his drinks virgin! Maybe the Bartender had forgotten...or misheard...or...something...she didn't know. All she knew is that she felt very bad about dragging him out. Poor Zexion...he wasn't even expecting what hit him...

She carried the tray of tea, water, and aspirin then when she reached his door held it in one hand, tapped on it, then took it in both again. She began to blush a little as she waited for the door to be answered.

Comments

[trialbyillusion.livejournal.com]

Zexion wasn't sure if it was possible to feel physically worse than he did at that moment. The loss of his heart years ago had ached afterward, but the event itself had been brief. Even his destruction at the hands of the replica had been quick, almost merciful in that regard if all other features of the murder were left out. This was different. This was a suffering that had no foreseeable end.

He shifted slightly from his place on the bathroom floor, searching for a new cold spot on the tiles to lean his forehead against. He was reasonably sure his average body temperature was higher than it should have been, but his use of cold rags hadn't put a dent in the unnatural heat. He was also still exhausted but couldn't fall back asleep. It was like punishment, terrible punishment in which his only means of probable escape had been stripped away.

"Please," he grated out to no one in particular, his throat sore from the exchanges he'd already had with the porcelain deities. He pressed two fingers to the crook of his neck and wondered absently whether it was possible to actually die from a hangover.

The Nobody jerked at the sound of someone knocking at his bedroom door. He rolled over, glaring in the door's direction. He kicked his open journal away - all her fault - and slowly pushed himself up. He had absolutely no interest in having company.

Pulling the door open, his expression of mild annoyance quickly shifted to a snarl when he saw just who it was, "You've done enough."

[percipience.livejournal.com]

Lana's eyes widened slightly at his snarl and she flinched. She had expected him to be upset with her, so she'd been prepared but...for some reason the actual event of him looking at her that way...made her wither a little inside. She ached..and it wasn't the hangover..she'd been medicated..her hangover was mostly forgotten in light of the new situation. It wasn't even the embarrassment that hurt. It was strange, it wasn't as if she'd never been looked at that way...but Zexion...was different.

She stared at him for a moment then quietly tried to speak...all she could manage was, "I ..brought..."

[trialbyillusion.livejournal.com]

Zexion didn't give her the opportunity to finish that sentence. He stepped forward, lashing out with the side of his hand to catch the tray she was carrying, effectively knocking it and its contents to the floor. He hissed in a pained breath and stepped back to lean against the doorframe, "You've done enough. Enough. The jokes and the horses and my hair and last night. What were you thinking? Do you even think? Do you even allow yourself the chance to think, Lana?"

[percipience.livejournal.com]

Lana shockingly did very little flinching when the tray was knocked askew. She just let it drop from her hands and watched it as it fell toward the floor in what seemed to her to be like slow motion. She watched as it crashed to the floor. A brief thought of how he'd just scattered his own hangover remedies passed through her mind. She looked up at him, vaguely puzzled for a moment but not for a second showing any sign of fear or shock. She tilted her head as he lashed out at her verbally. Her eyes widening was the only real indication that she'd hear what he said. She stood there dumbly for a moment before she knit her brows and shook her head very softly..barely visibly. "Last night? ...Zexion..I didn't..." She trailed off again. Thoughts ran through her mind. Many thoughts, thousands of them. What was he saying? That was...not in jest, it wasn't in good fun like their 'mean' comments usually were. It was...cruel what he was saying...it was just taking a little bit for it to sink in. He was the last person she'd expected such words from, even when upset.

[trialbyillusion.livejournal.com]

"No, you didn't," Zexion cut her off once again, raising his already hoarse voice to silence her argument, "You didn't think. You never think. It's always about what would be fun for you even when it defies all common sense. Just how old are you, Lana? Or do you really plan it all out? Is the bartender your special friend? Snuck a note in to him? It was bad enough when you were catering to my murderer but this?"

He shook his head, glancing down at the mess on the hallway floor, "I don't know why I've put up with you. You're disrespectful and obnoxious. No more. Find someone else for your pathetic excuses at humor. I can't remember the last time I was capable of feeling... this much hatred for one person. Get out of my space and stay out."

[percipience.livejournal.com]

There it was. Hatred? Lana actually stepped back is if she'd been physically struck. She stared at him. HATRED? Lana felt something behind her eyes sting and ...something in her throat. She stared at him, still shocked beyond words. Had she truly misjudged him this badly? She wasn't...used to misjudging people. He'd always reacted...when they'd...when she'd teased him he'd always taken it so gracefully and generally thrown it right back. Could he have fooled her so badly..could she have missed something? If...she'd ...he was right. He was really right. She was so hard on him, all the time, she had...She'd been very unkind without realizing that she was being so unkind. She'd thought she was beginning to understand him, she had considered him easily her closest friend but....apparently she'd ..misjudged the way he felt. She closed her eyes and stood that way for a moment, her brows knitting together. When she opened her eyes again they were gleaming with a good deal more moisture than had been there before. She looked up at Zexion, her expression somewhere between hurt and horror. "Zexion..I'm....so sorry," she said so quietly it was barely more than a whisper. She backed up several steps and angled herself in a way that she could move away from him while still looking at him. She looked at the ground and paused. She reached down and picked up two white pills then set them on a hall table. She looked over her shoulder at him and without another word turned, blinking slowly, and walked quietly away on bare feet, disappearing into the stairwell.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Lana entered her room and sat down numbly at her desk, habitually pressing the play button on her ipod which was hooked to the system in her room. She was stunned but soon her stunned sadness turned into anger and she picked up the infamous picture, preparing to chuck it across the room as was her usual anger management. Instead she looked down at it. Hatred? Had he really said...MEANT that? She looked at herself and clark sitting in each other's arms in the picture looking peaceful and content. Hatred? She took the picture in both hands and with a look of pain held it tightly to her as if embracing it would bring back what she'd been feeling in that picture.

Hushabye, don't you cry
Go to sleep my little baby.
When you wake, you shall have all the pretty little ponies.
In your bed mama said baby's riding off to dream land
one by one
they've begun, dance and prance for little baby
Blacks and bays, dapples and grays
Running in the night
when you wake you shall have, all the pretty little ponies

A scene flashed through Lana's head "You're a really good sshing-... nope. Casstle!"
She smiled ruefully. Cruel, Paradisa, very cruel. She closed her eyes and released a held in breath. The tears finally began to fall.....Hatred....he hated her. HATE. She could understand anger, she could understand frustration and irritation to the point of dislike and not wishing to be her friend but...hatred. Zexion, someone she probably cared about above everyone she knew in Paradisa...hated her.
She curled up in her chair around her picture, leaning over the desk and sobbed into the pages of her journal. It smelled good. Like books. Zexion smelled like books. Hatred...
She didn't understand..how she could have screwed up so very badly...

[trialbyillusion.livejournal.com]

Zexion scoffed, turning back into his room without offering a reply to her apology. He had no interest in pursing the subject further. What was done was done, what was said was too much. He shut the door behind him, ignoring the aspirin she'd left outside. He didn't want nor need her charity. It was her fault he was in this condition. She'd made a fool of him with her antics. She's somehow gotten him drunk- he couldn't remember what happened after those first few drinks, but he imagined whatever it was, it wasn't contributing to a good reputation for him. He was glad she was gone. She'd looked as though he'd gotten his point across, too. Maybe he wouldn't have to put up with her ever again.

He was feeling sick again. His stomach knotted in on itself and he stumbled back for the bathroom. Just the hangover, just the alcohol's affect. Nothing more than that. Good riddance.

Why did it have to hurt so much?

He slumped back against the bathroom wall, running his fingers through his hair. The journal was within arm's reach, the pen closer still. Hatred. He couldn't possibly be wrong.