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[backdated to after this exchange]
Warren looked at the screen of his Blackberry and sighed. He didn't want to see Ali. Or, well, that wasn't exactly right. He wanted to see her -- he missed talking with her and flirting at her, but more than that, she had known more about him than anyone else for a time. She'd been the first person that he'd come out to about his mutation, had given him advice about it when he didn't know what to do. But those reasons that he wanted to see her were the same reasons that he didn't want to, now. She knew him too well. She knew that he'd loved his wings, and he wouldn't be able to fool her as easily with throw-away smiles and neutral tones in writing. She'd be able to see the sadness and depression and guess how everything had really gone down.
And it was all too new to him still for that to be okay. Warren needed to be able to process things on his own; he didn't like being open when he felt unsure; he much preferred to have his own standing on a matter be solid -- then he could handle any outside influences with a degree of ease.
He knew it was a bad idea when he felt how her comments stabbed at him, simple as they were. But he supposed it was better to get this over with now, rather than later. He could actually talk to her, after all. And he needed someone to talk to. He'd promised to not, but he didn't think that one person -- whom he considered able to keep quiet when need be -- would be so bad. He hesitated another moment before moving from where he'd been seated on the edge of his bed, and moved out of his room, headed to Ali's. Another pause at her door before he knocked at it, feeling suddenly self-conscious. He'd always hidden his wings beneath his clothes without trouble, but now he felt like she'd be able to see their obvious lack anyway.
(Open to Ali)
Warren looked at the screen of his Blackberry and sighed. He didn't want to see Ali. Or, well, that wasn't exactly right. He wanted to see her -- he missed talking with her and flirting at her, but more than that, she had known more about him than anyone else for a time. She'd been the first person that he'd come out to about his mutation, had given him advice about it when he didn't know what to do. But those reasons that he wanted to see her were the same reasons that he didn't want to, now. She knew him too well. She knew that he'd loved his wings, and he wouldn't be able to fool her as easily with throw-away smiles and neutral tones in writing. She'd be able to see the sadness and depression and guess how everything had really gone down.
And it was all too new to him still for that to be okay. Warren needed to be able to process things on his own; he didn't like being open when he felt unsure; he much preferred to have his own standing on a matter be solid -- then he could handle any outside influences with a degree of ease.
He knew it was a bad idea when he felt how her comments stabbed at him, simple as they were. But he supposed it was better to get this over with now, rather than later. He could actually talk to her, after all. And he needed someone to talk to. He'd promised to not, but he didn't think that one person -- whom he considered able to keep quiet when need be -- would be so bad. He hesitated another moment before moving from where he'd been seated on the edge of his bed, and moved out of his room, headed to Ali's. Another pause at her door before he knocked at it, feeling suddenly self-conscious. He'd always hidden his wings beneath his clothes without trouble, but now he felt like she'd be able to see their obvious lack anyway.