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Post by nashville 'nash' aspen greer on Feb 20, 2012 19:09:35 GMT -5
"He told me." He said with a smile, glancing back at the TV. "He said he wanted to help you. His own mother didn't even bother to learn sign language to help understand him. So when he meets someone who actually knows it, he doesn't feel so alone. Which is a good thing. The boy's had a rough life." He heard the shower start to run, then turn off not long after.
"But I guess he told you that. His mom seems upset about you, though. She hates when the boy has anything to do with anyone. She's called him a freak more than once. So it's a good thing he can't hear, I suppose." He picked up the remote, flipping through the channels. He noticed that Silence of the Lambs was on, and stopped, knowing it was Nash's favorite.
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Post by dylan flambyte parker on Feb 20, 2012 19:21:18 GMT -5
Dylan nodded. "Kinda fucked she treats him like that." He caught himself. "Sorry...for my language." He chewed on his lip some, sighing.
"Just glad I could make him happy I guess, seemed like he could use a friend who understands him." He ran a hand through his hair. "I..can see why his mom doesn't like me though. Considering the tattoos and hair and stuff."
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Post by nashville 'nash' aspen greer on Feb 20, 2012 19:33:39 GMT -5
"Well, I don't see how that really has anything to do with why she wouldn't like you. I have tattoos all across my body." He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, showing him the tattoos. "I had some on my legs, when I had legs." He laughed a bit, then saw Nash walk in, his shirt clinging to his wet chest. He was drying his hair, his pajama pants really low on his lips. His dad pointed to the TV, and Nash smiled.
'Fava beans?' He signed and his dad scoffed.
'No fava beans today. Sorry.' Nash walked over to Dylan, sitting next to him. He rubbed his stomach gently, propping his legs up on the coffee table.
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Post by dylan flambyte parker on Feb 20, 2012 22:05:01 GMT -5
Dylan just nodded, unsure what to say about that, chewing on his lip. He glanced up as Nash returned, smiling faintly. When he sat down, Dylan touched his hand briefly, then drew back again just in case, glancing at the tv a moment.
He drew a leg up under himself, yawned and finished off his last piece of bacon that he had been picking at.
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Post by nashville 'nash' aspen greer on Feb 20, 2012 22:12:33 GMT -5
Nash blushed at the gentle touch, and was going to turn his hand over when Dylan pulled his away. He just shrugged it off, guessing he had something on his hand. He watched his dad play with the settings before putting on the subtitles. Nash grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, pulling it over himself as he balled up.
'A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with a side of fava beans, and a nice chianti.' Nash smirked at this, then laid down, his head on the arm of the sofa and his knees pulled up close to him.
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Post by dylan flambyte parker on Feb 20, 2012 22:26:08 GMT -5
Dylan gazed down at him, then over at Nash's father, and bit his lip. He was unsure of himself suddenly, but carefully drew an arm around Nash's shoulders anyway, guiding his head into his llap and taking his hand up once more.
He hoped his actions were alright, that he hadn't been mistaken in his judgement that Nashville's father was nothing like his mother.
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Post by nashville 'nash' aspen greer on Feb 20, 2012 22:36:37 GMT -5
Nash shifted a bit, holding Dylan's hand tight. He pulled it to his chest, and held it between his. He yawned, watching the TV intently. He saw his dad glance over and looked over at him. His dad smiled at him, and Nash glanced back at the TV, still clinging to Dylan's hand. What happened the night before had obviously scared him, strained on what little sanity the poor boy had left, and erased any trust he had for anyone besides Dylan, his father, and his step dad.
"Nash. Nash." His dad was tapping him and he looked over, unaware he had drifted that far into his thoughts.
'Don't breathe so hard. You're going to pass out.' He signed, and Nash nodded slowly, curling closer to Dylan.
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Post by dylan flambyte parker on Feb 20, 2012 22:45:11 GMT -5
Dylan gazed down at him in worry. He bent, kissing his cheek. "It's okay..." He murmured in his ear, ran his other hand over Nash's back, then slowly through his hair in silence, holding him close. He turned his attention back to the television quietly, occasionally glancing down at Nash, aware of the tight grip on his hand, and understanding why.
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Post by nashville 'nash' aspen greer on Feb 20, 2012 22:58:14 GMT -5
He watched until a commercial, then got up off the couch and walked to the laundry room. He came back and signed to his dad, asking him if he needed anything washed. His dad asked if he could wash his sheets, and the clothes in his hamper, and Nash nodded, walking off to get his dad's bed sheets off. It was yet another painful feat, but he finally got them off, and carried them to the laundry room.
He walked back, sitting beside Dylan. He curled up at his side, draping his legs over one of Dylan's as he laid his head on the other boy's shoulder.
"Don't let him get too hot. He starts breathing too heavy." His dad said with a smile, then turned back to the TV.
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Post by dylan flambyte parker on Feb 20, 2012 23:08:07 GMT -5
Dylan nodded, offering him the faintest of smiles. Curled in his new position, Nash made it easy for Dylan to trace his hand up and down his back gently.
He yawned, his other hand resting gently against Nash's leg. Eyes returned to the television again, content for once.
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