Post by Llewellyn Ludlow on Feb 11, 2017 21:08:41 GMT -5
Llewellyn was rarely found unless he wanted to be found.
Calloused fingers dug into the fretboard and danced along the maple neck of his acoustic, his shoulders hunched over the instrument with what could only be described as an unbreakable concentration from a teen that, under normal circumstances, could hardly focus on a single topic for more than four seconds at a time. However, these circumstances were unusual and Llewellyn rarely faced his problems in a head on manner. Rather, he stewed in them until he either forgot about them or figured up what was usually a wrong solution. Thus far he had seriously considered faking his own death. That route seemed the most favorable, considering the mess he had unexpectedly raveled himself up in.
And for those unfortunate enough that they knew Llewellyn, they would understand that avoidance was so much more than a bad habit: it was simply a way of life. Llewellyn had spent the better half of the week dodging everyone since his and Kai’s... falling out? His compulsory proclamation? Or how about the awkward unsatisfied mess he had left Edmund in without any sort of explanation the day after? Because he was feeling too guilty to admit to his... (were they dating?)... that he didn’t want to bone him because he was in the process of facing some serious intimacy issues and was using him more or less as a way to explore those issues? Even if he genuinely liked him.
And then there was the question of Kai and what Llewellyn was supposed to do. Break up with Ed? His exbestfriend had offered him no words of assurance or guidance or expectations beyond ‘don’t leave again’. To be perfectly honest, Llewellyn was struggling with the idea of confrontation with Ed and offering the same honesty he had given Kai.
Llewellyn had thought, for a very brief glimmer of a moment, that his honesty would provide clarity but so far it had only brought more stress into his life.
Stress that he had somewhat relieved by chopping off a good three or four inches from his hair after waking up that morning, enough to bring the unmanageable tendrils up off his shoulders. However, for what he lost in length, he seemed to gain in volume. Still it hung over the body of his instrument as he picked fixedly on the strings, playing the same scale over and over until his fingers cracked and bled.
Later that morning he had thought to talk to Ana about it, but Ana was a different type of friend that wasn’t so keen on hearing his problems and was more than inclined to accept Llewellyn for what he was (and perhaps kill him because of it) when he unwittingly blurted out that he needed drugs in the middle of Defense Against the Dark Arts.
So as the afternoon peaked his head buzzed warmly and flowed out into his fingertips and his lunch period was spent dipping his feet into the lake as they hung off the edge of the boathouse jetty, trousers rolled up his calves and his arms bare of their winter lacquer and robes. Robes that sat, balled up haphazardly beside him topped with a black and yellow tie, while the collar of his white button down stuck up without concern and its first three buttons left undone. Prior to heading down to the lake he’d grabbed a few rolls and wrapped them up in a linen napkin that now sat beside him, but in truth his appetite had not been present and it showed as the baby fat on his cheeks hollowed.
But he felt fine now. Warm. Content. Euphoric. The weather was fair and the music was good and if he could hang in this moment until the end of the school year then everything would be fine.
Kaimana Ohme
Calloused fingers dug into the fretboard and danced along the maple neck of his acoustic, his shoulders hunched over the instrument with what could only be described as an unbreakable concentration from a teen that, under normal circumstances, could hardly focus on a single topic for more than four seconds at a time. However, these circumstances were unusual and Llewellyn rarely faced his problems in a head on manner. Rather, he stewed in them until he either forgot about them or figured up what was usually a wrong solution. Thus far he had seriously considered faking his own death. That route seemed the most favorable, considering the mess he had unexpectedly raveled himself up in.
And for those unfortunate enough that they knew Llewellyn, they would understand that avoidance was so much more than a bad habit: it was simply a way of life. Llewellyn had spent the better half of the week dodging everyone since his and Kai’s... falling out? His compulsory proclamation? Or how about the awkward unsatisfied mess he had left Edmund in without any sort of explanation the day after? Because he was feeling too guilty to admit to his... (were they dating?)... that he didn’t want to bone him because he was in the process of facing some serious intimacy issues and was using him more or less as a way to explore those issues? Even if he genuinely liked him.
And then there was the question of Kai and what Llewellyn was supposed to do. Break up with Ed? His exbestfriend had offered him no words of assurance or guidance or expectations beyond ‘don’t leave again’. To be perfectly honest, Llewellyn was struggling with the idea of confrontation with Ed and offering the same honesty he had given Kai.
Llewellyn had thought, for a very brief glimmer of a moment, that his honesty would provide clarity but so far it had only brought more stress into his life.
Stress that he had somewhat relieved by chopping off a good three or four inches from his hair after waking up that morning, enough to bring the unmanageable tendrils up off his shoulders. However, for what he lost in length, he seemed to gain in volume. Still it hung over the body of his instrument as he picked fixedly on the strings, playing the same scale over and over until his fingers cracked and bled.
Later that morning he had thought to talk to Ana about it, but Ana was a different type of friend that wasn’t so keen on hearing his problems and was more than inclined to accept Llewellyn for what he was (and perhaps kill him because of it) when he unwittingly blurted out that he needed drugs in the middle of Defense Against the Dark Arts.
So as the afternoon peaked his head buzzed warmly and flowed out into his fingertips and his lunch period was spent dipping his feet into the lake as they hung off the edge of the boathouse jetty, trousers rolled up his calves and his arms bare of their winter lacquer and robes. Robes that sat, balled up haphazardly beside him topped with a black and yellow tie, while the collar of his white button down stuck up without concern and its first three buttons left undone. Prior to heading down to the lake he’d grabbed a few rolls and wrapped them up in a linen napkin that now sat beside him, but in truth his appetite had not been present and it showed as the baby fat on his cheeks hollowed.
But he felt fine now. Warm. Content. Euphoric. The weather was fair and the music was good and if he could hang in this moment until the end of the school year then everything would be fine.
Kaimana Ohme
