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laytondressing2011-12-08 04:30 pm
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'Cause Descole's a Creative Genius
[Descole walks into a room with a huge grand piano. It seems no one is around, and as he cannot find the door to the outside to the building he doesn't remember waltzing into, he decides to kill some time and play the piano. While doing so, playing a pianissimo noise level, he begins lightly singing along in a French tune, figuring he'd hear the door open, if some one was, in fact, there.]
[Or would he?]
Dirait, dirait on, dirait on.....
[Or would he?]
Dirait, dirait on, dirait on.....
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[But this time was different. He was looking after himself. Or herself. Either way, he was comforting some one with her own problems. Seeing her cry the same way he would when he was alone, made him tear up.]
[No, he would remain strong.]
I-It's okay...I'm sorry...d-don't cry. You're gonna make me cry.
[He moved closer to her and placed his hand on her should gently, trying not to startle her.]
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I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry--
[It's just like a mantra, the words don't even sound like words in her head. All she can register is that she doesn't want him to cry, she doesn't want to be the one who does that to him. Like she was the one who made Layton do what he did to her. Because it had to be her, didn't it? Layton was Layton, he never would have decided to do something like that if she hadn't been such an awful person. It must have been against his whole gentlemanly thing, mustn't it? She'd done that. It'd been her fault, she'd pushed him into it. She'd done everything, she'd fucked with him with her plans and she'd fucked with him literally, and she'd been the one person awful enough that he'd snapped.
And now she's going to make her double cry, and right now that feels like an even worse mistake. Because she's awful, and he shouldn't care, should he? Nobody else ever has. He shouldn't care, but he does, and she's awful enough that she's going to make him cry, even though he's the one person who cares about her. Trying to bite back another sob, Descole resorts to biting down on her arm, shaking as she tries to muffle the sound. Once it passes, she lifts her head just slightly, though she keeps her eye clamped shut and doesn't look at him.]
Double. Please-- make it stop, double...
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[Impulsively, he grabs her hand and starts singing quietly and gently.]
La t'aime du narciesse e'sausse. Dirait dirait on, dirait on, dirait on...
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Eventually, she starts to relax, shifting closer inch by inch. She practically collapses against her double once she's close enough, holding onto his hand for dear life and bawling into his chest. She doesn't even care right now that she's embarrassing herself. Once she's calmed down she'll probably be mortified, but right now she can't even register that. All she knows is that everything hurts, that she's scared, just like she always is, and that she's not cried like this since it happened. She's cried, but she hasn't cried properly, she hasn't cried it out with no care for who could see her, because up until now she's never felt safe enough to let down her guard like that. To trust someone else to look after her while she gives into it.]
Oh god, double. Please. Don't go. Stay here, okay? I need you.
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[Finishing off his song, he began to stroke her hair, and run his fingers through it, like a certain someone he knew would do. He hoped that would help.]
I'm not going anywhere. We're both stuck remember? And besides, to leave myself like this, double, wouldn't help either of us, would it?
And we're still gonna be stuck.
[The sober did kick in, but not all the way, obviously.]
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Mmmph... I'm sorry about this, double. That was... oh god, you must think I'm such an idiot. M'sorry.
But-- thank you for staying. Like that. I mean... I know you can't leave this place but you could have left me and-- ...just... thank you for not doing that.
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No problem. Don't you worry. I'd never leave you like that.
I know how it gets. It gets unbearable. The weight of it...gets unbearable. I've always been that way too. I just...I just never let it out...like that.
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I guess it's having you here. Or the alcohol.
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[He began running his fingers through his hair.]
Someone I love does this for me when I'm upset. They touch my hair. It usually works. Is it too scary for you, or is it working?
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[Someone that he loves... Descole curls up a little tighter against him, reaching up to scrub her arm over her eye. She doesn't even remember what loving someone else feels like, any more.]
...you're lucky, double.
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Oh am I? What makes you say that?
[He continues stroking her hair and starts to hum.]
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I don't know if I even could love someone, I'm so bad at everything else involved people...
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Does that make sense?
[He continues stroking her hair missing the person who loves him. At least he knew he could feel. That was something he wasn't sure about for a while.]
You're going to be just fine...
[More fine than me. Please, if you're not, I don't know who will, he thinks.]
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[She trails off, humming a little to herself. It's kind of difficult to stay awake properly, with him stroking her hair like that.]
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I know what you mean. You have me.
[While stroking her hair, he begins to sing again, this time, a light tune of la's and such. Maybe he's soothing her too much, but oh well.]
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[It's been so long since she slept soundly, but... she thinks she could, like this. With him here to look after her.]
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[What he doesn't want to tell her is he's way too tired to stay awake. Perhaps he'll let her sleep soundly and do the same thing.]
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[She tightens her grip on him as she says it. She intends to make sure of it, no matter what he says.]
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[His eyes close as he starts playing with the ends on her hair. He didn't realize how tired he was.]
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[And like that, he falls asleep, holding her and still drunk.]