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pointofspecificity) wrote2011-04-22 11:18 pm
pointofspecificity) wrote2011-04-22 11:18 pm
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I've fallen out of favour.
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acleandive. Falling!Verse.]
[Arthur lives in a small, ranch-style house in LA, a residence he prefers to keep quiet about, and which only a select few people are aware of. It sits in the middle of a peaceful street, one where everyone keeps their business to themselves, and it’s the perfect place to retreat to when he wants to lock himself away, to keep the rest of the world out.
It’s been a busy few works, one thing or another cropping up and taking precedence, so he takes advantage of the quiet calm, the abrupt way that everything appears to have come to a halt, because he knows a storm will surely follow eventually and he doesn’t want to miss the chance.
An array of Chinese food is laid out across the glass coffee table in the living room, a half-empty bottle of wine in the middle, and black cushions are piled up at one end of the white sofa, an old and tatty patchwork blanket draped over his lap where he curls up with his eyes trained on the TV. It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but to Arthur there really isn’t anything else like a quiet night in alone with a DVD and a book to follow, especially when the only alternatives are things he can never do in reality.
But he can’t help the wandering thoughts, wondering what Mal might be doing on this slow Friday night – he did contemplate calling her earlier in the evening, to see if he could go over or if she wanted to go out somewhere. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge he would have to stand by and watch her, with him, and secretly wish she wasn’t. Sometimes he hates himself for thinking it, for wanting her to himself, and other times he hates Dom, for having what he can only dream of.
By this point he isn’t sure what it is he’s even watching and remembers, painfully, why he prefers to keep busy, to avoid sitting alone with nothing and no one to distract him from his own thoughts.]
acleandive. Falling!Verse.][Arthur lives in a small, ranch-style house in LA, a residence he prefers to keep quiet about, and which only a select few people are aware of. It sits in the middle of a peaceful street, one where everyone keeps their business to themselves, and it’s the perfect place to retreat to when he wants to lock himself away, to keep the rest of the world out.
It’s been a busy few works, one thing or another cropping up and taking precedence, so he takes advantage of the quiet calm, the abrupt way that everything appears to have come to a halt, because he knows a storm will surely follow eventually and he doesn’t want to miss the chance.
An array of Chinese food is laid out across the glass coffee table in the living room, a half-empty bottle of wine in the middle, and black cushions are piled up at one end of the white sofa, an old and tatty patchwork blanket draped over his lap where he curls up with his eyes trained on the TV. It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but to Arthur there really isn’t anything else like a quiet night in alone with a DVD and a book to follow, especially when the only alternatives are things he can never do in reality.
But he can’t help the wandering thoughts, wondering what Mal might be doing on this slow Friday night – he did contemplate calling her earlier in the evening, to see if he could go over or if she wanted to go out somewhere. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge he would have to stand by and watch her, with him, and secretly wish she wasn’t. Sometimes he hates himself for thinking it, for wanting her to himself, and other times he hates Dom, for having what he can only dream of.
By this point he isn’t sure what it is he’s even watching and remembers, painfully, why he prefers to keep busy, to avoid sitting alone with nothing and no one to distract him from his own thoughts.]
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Is there anything you need? You can take control of the TV, if you want, or we could do something to take your mind off everything. Unless you need to sleep? There's clean sheets on the bed.
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