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Post by nashville 'nash' aspen greer on Feb 17, 2012 0:44:16 GMT -5
'No, not really. It's like walking in on someone in the middle of their conversation and you're completely lost. All I hear is bits and pieces, if anything at all. Besides, bitching beats the hell out of struggling to breathe every day.' He watched him sit down, and wondered if he should learn to write a little faster, try not to worry about his words being so neat. He grabbed a napkin, reaching over to wipe a bit of blood off his chin. He sat the napkin down, leaning back in his seat. his tattoos were interesting. Nash knew he could never have the courage to do that.
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Post by dylan flambyte parker on Feb 17, 2012 1:07:50 GMT -5
'I meant for me, not you. I know what a choke hold is, dealing with that constantly sounds like hell.'
He le a smile graced his lips, the furst sincere one in months.
He tensed at the touch, jaw tightening, but forced himself to relax a bit, signing a thank you with the gesture of his hand. Running a hand through his hair, he adjusted his hat, stretching. 'So what's a good lookin' guy like you doing alone?'
He didn't know why he wrote it, why he wasn't chewing this guy up like a slab of meat, but he meant it. The guy had looks. So what if he couldn't hear?
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Post by nashville 'nash' aspen greer on Feb 17, 2012 1:15:55 GMT -5
Nash bit his lip, a blush creeping across his cheeks. He kept his head down, slowly drawing his hand across the page, his writing small and neat. Almost too neat, as if every letter were calculated.
'You'd be the first and last to think that. My step dad gave me a few dollars to get something to eat, and none of the little sisters wanted to come, so I just came by myself.' He pushed the notebook back, chewing on his lip as he looked around. Everyone around was talking or laughing. He didn't think he would mind as much if he didn't remember being able to hear. Now he could only hear if someone was screaming in his ear, or sitting right on top of him.
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Post by dylan flambyte parker on Feb 17, 2012 1:22:00 GMT -5
'I doubt that's true. And from experience, alone is...not exactly fun.'
He hesitated a moment. 'You're the first person I haven't wanted to beat up in a long time. Besides my dog.'
He bit his lip guiltily as he pushed the notebook back, gestured that he would be back in a moment. He'd begun to fight before buying his own treat, and had just realized that. Ordering one, he returned a moment later, this time dropping down at the same table, opposite of the guy.
He touched his hand briefly, then signedfive quick letters. 'D-y-l-a-n.'
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Post by nashville 'nash' aspen greer on Feb 17, 2012 1:28:02 GMT -5
'No, it's not fun. But when you can't hear, no one really wants to bother to be around you. Talking to me is too much work. And I guess that's a good thing? I don't exactly like being beaten up.' He looked up as he came back and wondered why he bothered to write so slow. Snails could move faster, he was sure. He spun the pad around, watching as the guy signed his name. And he in turn signed his own. N-A-S-H-V-I-L-L-E. He dropped his hands to the table again, wringing them together. Just one of his strange habits, along with tapping his foot, and biting his lip so hard it bled at times.
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Post by dylan flambyte parker on Feb 17, 2012 1:44:06 GMT -5
Dylan glanced over the words. He took the pen in his left hand again, his own writing small and eligble, but not the nicest. 'Who would have a problem with you? I would talking with you than listening to my coworkers whine any day. And that was a stupid remark about the beating people up... Sorry.'
'Nashville? Cool.'
He slid it back, finding himself quite comfortable with not having to talk as he leaned back, taking a bjte of the frozen yogurt, blowing bangs from his face before his phone buzzed. He flipped it open, his back ground tha of him kissing his fluffy shitzhu, and pulled up his messages. 'Fuck you, go do it yourself.' Sending the message to his brother Chrystian, he slid the phone back in to his pocket.
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Post by nashville 'nash' aspen greer on Feb 17, 2012 1:55:21 GMT -5
He nodded, thinking for a moment. He didn't exactly know what to say. Or write, as the case may be. He tapped the pen against the pad again, then bent over it to write. He wrote for a moment, then slid the paper back to him.
'It's alright. Not everyone is lucky enough to be pretty and rich. Sometimes people like me have to exist, and everyone else thinks it's a burden or something.'
He pulled his own phone out of his pocket, always keeping it on silent since he couldn't hear it anyways. He had a text from his mom and opened it. 'I love you, Nash. If you wouldn't mind, could you come get your step dad's credit card and get everyone frozen yogurt?' He didn't know how he was supposed to carry back six frozen yogurts -the cats had to split one, he knew- by himself. He texted her back, saying he would be there in a little while.
'You want to come with me? I've got to get my step dad's card. Mom wants frozen yogurt for everyone.' He wrote, looking over at the boy. He knew he would be chewed out for bringing a boy into his step father's house; his mother despised gays and refused for her son to be one. Even if he didn't know what he liked.
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Post by dylan flambyte parker on Feb 17, 2012 2:01:42 GMT -5
'There's your problem. You are pretty, and rich, right here.' He tapped his head. 'Sensible.' Passing it back, he had an urge to laugh softly and his eyebrows furrowed. He was too comfortable around this guy. But who was he kidding. He wasn't one to feel much, it didn't matter.
Eating silently, he glanced back over at the note pad. 'Sure..I can help out.'
He felt a little hesitant, didn't want to do anything stupid. He was rude by nature and it often get him in trouble. Even if he had ever liked anybody their parents probably would have hated him before he had a chance. But he never had, so it wasn't exactly a problem.
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Post by nashville 'nash' aspen greer on Feb 17, 2012 2:12:15 GMT -5
'Flattery will get you everywhere, contrary to popular belief.' He wrote with a smile, then looked over at the boy. He leaned back in his chair, and waited for him to finish eating before getting up. He grabbed his magazine and his jacket and started out the door. It was a bit of a walk, but not too bad. Nash generally just cut through the park. They came up to a big house, and Nash bounded the steps, stepping inside. He put his things aside, and stood there with his arms crossed. He very well couldn't call for anyone.
His mother came down the stairs, her hair in a disarray. He was handing Nash the card when she stopped, looking the boy over.
"Who's he?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.
"D-Dy..lan.." He choked out, then coughed into his arm.
"Why, Nash?"
"-g-go.. nna help me wi-ith the y-y-y.." He rocked his hand back and forth, unable to get the word out. His throat hurt too bad.
"Don't you go bringing any other boys back here, Nashville Aspen. And stop stuttering. If you can't say it, then write it." She scolded him and he tried to explain he had left his notebook when she just waved a hand at him. He sighed, chewing on his lip again.
"G-g..oh?" He asked Dylan, looking over at him, obviously hurt.
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Post by dylan flambyte parker on Feb 17, 2012 2:18:05 GMT -5
Dylan's teeth gritted, feeling a sudden need to defend him. "It's nit like I'm doing anything with him," He huffed, jaw tightening. "Ran into him and I was in a predicament is all. I owed him."
Fixing his hat he shook his head, cracking his knuckles as an only escape so he wouldn't flip her off. Gazing back at Nash, he nidded, opening the door for him silently. Only when they were outside did he touch his shoulder gently. 'There's nothing wrong with your stutter,' He signed with a faint, hesitant smile. Hesitance towards himself. Fishing around, he withdrew the notepad from his back pocket. 'Left it on the table,' He scribbled, and slid it into Nashville's hand.
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