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you only own your hell; ;Aaron
Topic Started: Apr 9 2014, 04:07 AM (268 Views)
Charm
Unregistered

January 7th
3:45 pm
Following the Events of I Am Not a Robot and still a rockstar

Use of powers for ill will, destruction of school property, manipulative extortion--the list could go on for how many rules Micah had broken today. The resulting list of punishments were equally as daunting, including but not limited to loss of non-educational day trips for the foreseeable future, detention, extra student worker shifts, and three strictly monitored training sessions a week. The consequences were steep, but given that Micah had done it all of his own volition had made it that much worse.

After Mr. Worthington had dismissed him to go back to his room and unpack his things, Micah had not made it further than the lobby of the student dormitories before his phone rang. It was standard procedure to call the guardians of students that had any kind of trouble at the school, and after hemming and hawing with his parents for half an hour Micah broke down and told them both what had happened.

His dad was furious, and his mum distraught. They had forgiven him for so many things, but this was where they drew the line in the sand.

Now with a third lecture dripping in disappointment under his belt for the day, Micah spent a long time sitting on a bench in the foyer hugging his backpack to his chest. It wasn't until his peers started to return from class that he even moved, sadly shouldering his bag and standing to shuffle in the direction if his room. He did not speak nor smile, looking ahead vacantly as he took the stairs up to his floor.

The door to his room was closed, and before he could open it Micah heard shuffling sounds within, signaling him that Aaron had already come back. Inhaling deeply to steel himself, Micah flexed his metal hands anxiously.

He's yer best mate. He'll forgive yer. Almost reassured, the metal teen opened the door, an apology tumbling out before he could prepare it.

"Listen, mate, I'm sorry about...," Micah trailed off into silence, rooted to the threshold of the room he shared with Aaron. The books and personal effects that had once lined one half of the room were all gone, all replaced with a few cardboard boxes sitting on the bare mattress of Aaron's bed.

Swallowing thickly, Micah gripped the doorframe to fortify himself for reality. This isnae happenin'.

"W-what's this then....?" he asked aloud, unable to bite back the wavering in his voice. Micah looked to Aaron with a crestfallen face, any hint that he had ever smiled suddenly erased. "Yer leavin'?"
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Aaron
Unregistered

It was rare for him to get upset. Well, no, that wasn't true. He actually got upset quite easily, but most of the time it washed away quickly enough. This time, however, it had set with him, stewing over the course of the day as he packed up his belongings and prepared to move into a new dorm. And the more it stewed, the angrier he became. He didn't want to be angry at Micah. He didn't want to be angry at anyone. But the metal mutant had crossed a line when he decided to use his powers to trick him, to deceive him, to control him.

He could no longer trust Micah Kinsley. He could no longer consider him a friend.

The hard part was just about taken care of. His belongings were more or less packed, just a few small things left to take care of, and then he could begin taking them all to his new dorm. Glancing around the surprisingly bare room that he had called his home for the better part of a year, Aaron let out a long, loud sigh. Wouldn't be long now. He'd be out of here, probably living with someone else, someone new, someone who hopefully wouldn't think it was a good idea to use him like he was nothing.

The voice of his soon-to-be-former roommate caused him to tense up. He'd had his back to Micah when he entered, but a few seconds after the question left the Scot's lips, he turned to face him, the expression on his face telling the whole story. If there was any doubt about his mood at that moment, the look he gave Charm would have dispelled it instantly. Beacon was, for want of a better word, pissed.

He let the question hang there. Some part of him had wanted to avoid this entire moment, to just get out while Micah was gone. Another part had played out this exact scenario over and over in his mind, working out what he was going to say, what Micah would say in response, what he'd retort. Hours upon hours of conversations that might happen. But now that he was face to face with the cause of this rage, he found that his plans didn't amount to too much. They just flew out the window. All the things he wanted to say, gone. What came out was pure instinct, nothing more.

Giving Micah a quick once over to ensure that the null cuff had been replaced, he gave a short nod. "...Yeah," he said flatly, his voice carrying a quiet edge. Was there anything more that needed to be said between them? Probably not. But in his anger, he forgot how to be tactful.

"Why? Gonna try to talk me out of it?"
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Charm
Unregistered

Micah's face fell grimly further as Aaron confirmed that he was moving out, still standing reproachfully in the doorway holding his backpack like a spurned child. Brash but perceptive, there was no need for Micah to ask if the other boy was serious, the look in his eyes saying enough. Now nervous, the Scotsman moistened his metal lips with his tongue, in his heart knowing that he had already lost but still wanting to win. He could have spilled his heart and explained himself, and yet there was so much to say. The whole thing was too pathetic to be put in words, recalling how he had already bared his soul to Terry.

Ye have no friends. Dinnae lose the only one yer have.

Working himself into a panic, Micah laughed inappropriately and dropped his bag on his own bed, shuffling the replaced null cuff around his wrist.

"Aw, mate, It were nothin' personal, truly. I just wanted ter go home." His already shaky facade quickly fell apart beneath Aaron's gaze, the reality of how poorly Micah lied without his charm becoming very apparent. Swallowing thickly, the metal teen changed his tactic from dismissive attitude to downright pleading.

"C'mon. Ye dinnae mean this," Micah asserted quietly, gesturing to the boxes with a hand.

"It was a mistake, an' I said I'm sorry, ken?" Micah weakly flashed Aaron one of his winning smiles, desperately trying to win back his favor. Having gone so many years without needing to explain himself at length or begging for forgiveness, Micah still could not wrap his head around rejection. Eventually Aaron would give in and realize the error of his ways and they could be friends again.

Determined to help the process along, Micah blurted out,"Lemme just help yer unpack an' we can talk about this, awrite?"

Stepping past his former roommate, the taller boy suddenly reached for the nearest box, easily hefting it up under one arm and peering intently inside it. "Wha's all this then, yer knick knacks an' the like?"
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Aaron
Unregistered

JP Aaron and Micah

He hated himself the instant the words left his mouth. It wasn't in him to get that upset at someone, at least not directly. Usually, when someone upset him, he just avoided them as best he could and got on with life. This was different, though. This was personal. Deeply personal. Micah was his friend. Had been his friend. He didn't want this. But the fact remained that he no longer trusted the metal mutant.

And to make matters worse, it seemed to him that Micah didn't even seem to care about what he had done. He was trying to play it off like it was no big deal, like everything was fine, that this was water under the bridge. Exhaling his rage through his nostrils, Aaron watched as Micah went for one of his boxes, apparently aiming to unpack it.

"Put that down," he growled, casting a glare at Micah. "This isn't a joke. I'm moving out."


Perhaps Micah had hoped that Aaron would comply simply because it was his nature to avoid confrontation, but it was obvious that the metal boy had not expected such animosity. He handled irritation from women with a smile, but this was personal, and he could do nothing to disguise the hurt that flickered across his sparkling face.

“Awrite… awrite, mate, no need ter be beelin’, ken?” he mumbled dismally, carefully shifting the full box to both hands, but hesitating in the action of setting it down on the bed. As long as he still had the box of belongings, Aaron would pay attention to him, and Micah intended to hold onto it as long as he could manage.

“Look.. it wasnae right what I did t’ye. But I had to!” Even when he was clearly in the wrong, the Scotsman was still angling for his own case, sadly adding,"I though ye would un’erstand about bein’ lonely.”

Micah flinched at the implications of his own plea, shaking his head,”Naw.. those are nae the right words.."


Had to? HAD to? In what world did Micah live? What possible reality did he inhabit where it was required to deceive people close to him? Lonliness didn't factor into it. Aaron had been lonely for most of his life, but he'd never once considered using someone in the manner that Micah had. He clenched his fists, fighting back the urge to scream at his former roommate. He needed to get out of here. The longer he remained, the more likely he was to lose it.

"Damn right they're not..." Taking the box away from Micah, he placed it back where it belonged, giving it a quick look to ensure that the things contained within were still in their proper place. Satisfied that they were, he turned back to Charm, shaking his head.

"I do know what it's like to be lonely...but I'd never do what you did to someone...especially to a friend..." His voice cracked as he choked back a sob. This was much more difficult than he'd anticipated it being.


Despite Micah crafting a plan that he had previously thought was flawless, Aaron was to have none of it, muttering another annoyed response and plucking the box from his grip. Micah was stronger, but even with his emotional betrayal he could not summon the will to physically fight back.

And then Aaron’s voice broke, freezing Micah into place. He had been good at reading people his whole life, and yet deciding appropriate reaction was still difficult. Should they embrace? Or did he need only to walk away?

Unable to let this friendship slip between his fingers so easily, Micah swallowed thickly, looking sorrowfully beneath his hooded gaze to his soon to be former roommate and friend.

“…can ye ever forgive me?” he reached to touch Aaron’s shoulder, hope still lingering that he could salvage what was left of their rapport.


His hand hurt.

Why did his hand hurt?

Why was his fist in Micah's face?

He'd blacked out for a second there, the moment Micah touched him. All the anger at Micah he'd been bottling up just erupted in that one instant. Forgive him? Right now he never wanted to see him again. That little physical outburst was just the final nail in the coffin that was their relationship.

"...leave..." he managed to hiss, ignoring the tears that were rolling down his cheeks, the throbbing in his hand. Dropping his fist, he turned away from Charm, trying to busy himself with finishing his packing, something that became more and more difficult with each passing second as his hand swelled up more and more. Probably broke something. Didn't really care.

He just wanted Micah gone.


Ping.

The room still hummed after something glanced off of Micah’s cheek. He felt no pain, but he felt something shatter; it took him a moment before he realized what had broken was Aaron’s hand.

Micah's first instinct was to be concerned, softly whispering,”Aw, mate.. yer hand..” But Aaron’s sharp demand for Micah to leave stopped him cold. He balked, his facial features twisting as he fought against mixed emotions of turmoil, despair, and ire. His mind was likewise baffled, shuffling through a series of thoughts all at once--He hit me! Can we ever be mates again? and amazingly He cannae tell me t’leave. Ain’t his room anymore.

Micah tried to indignantly press his chin forward, but it stuttered back as he sniffled, the roulette of his mental state stopping solidly on anguish.

“Yeah…. awrite… yeah..,” he nodded slowly, his intended comforting hand retreating to touch where Aaron had hit him. Micah didn’t know what he expected to feel, his fingers scraping roughly against hard metallic skin to remind him what he was made of.

“See yer… see yer around then,” the Scot stammered, knowing full well that the room would be empty upon his return and that he would never see Aaron around the same way again. He shuffled to the doorway, fumbling for the door to close it properly but abandoning the task to hastily retreat and find somewhere else to hide.
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Charm
Unregistered

Micah's heavy footsteps were fast and frenzied in the hall as he looked desperately for some kind of solitude. He had to find somewhere to go. Anywhere.

And yet there was nowhere left. Micah's elaborate plan to get home to Scotland had miserably fallen apart, and the only remaining shelter available to him was out of the question. The metal mutant shivered, rubbing his cuffed hand up the skin of his bare arm. He rarely felt sensations of heat, cold, or pain, so what was he feeling now--and why did it hurt?

His already aching chest tightened further and Micah felt himself grow short of breath, the mansion's interior swimming before his eyes. Gasping, he ducked inside the mens' restroom that was fortuitously empty. The Scotsman shuffled to the wall-mounted sink and leaned into it, viciously gripping the porcelain edge for support. He stood immobile there, gasping in oxygen until he had regained enough composure to lift his head and look in the mirror.

His eyes were flush and wet, still stubbornly holding in the grief that had been building the moment he'd left home nearly six months ago. The once dazzling star was still shimmering in his skin, but the smile and soul were gone.

Ye really did lose it all. he thought sadly, staring bitterly at his reflection and still wishing he had never listened to Moira McTaggert.

Micah had done the right thing--eventually--and for what? Now he was the face of fraud in his own country, his parents were disappointed, and the only friend he had wanted nothing to do with him. Tomorrow the word would spread about what he'd done, and he'd be the shiny social pariah all over again.

“Ahuh..,” Micah whimpered, quickly clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound and backing away from the mirror. He clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head to fight back the burden of despair creeping into his bones.

Don’t. Don’t don’t don’t.

Rubbing his metal hands into his eyes and smearing gritty tears over his cheeks, Micah fumbled for the door and fell into it, holding it shut with his weight. Through the wooden barrier he could hear life continue about him as normal, his peers going about their day with talk and laughter.

Unable to force himself into a facade of normalcy to face them all, Micah turned and pressed his back into the door, sliding into a heap on the tile. Curling his knees into his chest, he twined the tips of his fingers into his hair until the curls went as taught as wire, weeping quietly for something he'd almost had and lost because it still wasn't enough.
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