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Oliver. King. ([info]cyprian) wrote in [info]bellumlogs,
@ 2010-02-04 23:06:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:dorian gray

Who: Trenton & Emery.
What: Hey, doc, I think I'm a superhero.
Where: Emery's.
When: 4 oclock.
Warnings: Cursing, mention of drugs. Trenton stuff.



Trenton tried to justify his reasons, but kept coming up short. Maybe he shouldn't tell anybody about this. Although he knew he wasn't crazy -- he'd experimented with a lighter and a knife throughout the night -- Trenton well fucking knew this wasn't normal. People didn't.. heal like this. It wasn't possible. And, Trenton was very frank in recognizing the fact that he hadn't always been this way. He'd gotten the shit beaten out of him enough times to be a rejected crash test dummy. Now, he didn't even know if he could bruise.

Maybe it was some kind of rapid clotting disorder. Deformed white blood cells or nuclear waste byproducts from the meth he'd smoked in his life. Trenton tried to do an internet search, but got distracted with porn and quickly became discouraged.

His only option was to a see a doctor, really. They were bound by a confidentiality agreement, weren't they? Fuck, he should have given a fake name. Idiot. Why didn't he think of these things beforehand?

Trenton glanced down at the spread of drugs on his coffee table that had spawned his paranoid contact to the doctor in the first place. Oh, yeah.

"Sonofabitch." Pacing the living room and bouncing around like a boxer getting ready for a prizefight, before Trenton could second guess himself any longer, he hit the hallway. Then the stairwell. A rampaging glimpse of distrust and stark, tailored details taking stairs two at a time. Dark slacks, white button-up Oxford, and a skinny black tie. He looked like he should have been strolling onto a Barney's storefront window set-up with the other mannequins, but instead he was on the 8th floor. Knocking on 807 and chewing a piece of fruit stripe gum like some shady junkie trying to keep his first class teeth from chattering out of his pretty head.

He'd just check the guy out. Maybe poise the topic in one of those traditional and transparent, My friend has this problem, see.. type of things. Yeah.

He knocked again.


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[info]strangecase
2010-02-05 04:31 am UTC (link)
Everything was in its proper place.

At least, that's what Emery wanted to believe. He spent the last few days - when he wasn't handing out pills to strangers or losing his existence to his brother - straightening his apartment to his liking. Truly, he was no interior decorator, but anyone could see that he was trying. It was a new start, and Emery was determined to make it look like this was going to work out, that he could be perfectly normal in the case company came to call on him.

And then it did.

Emery resided in the bright living room, bouncing his right leg over his left knee. He could hardly recall the last time anyone walked through his doorway, let alone those in need of his help. This afternoon, though, he was determined to impress. For the occasion of a caller, he was dressed in black slacks and a dark grey, button-up shirt, with a pair of dress shoes he wore back at his old office. For the first moment in so many years, Emery began to feel like his old self again. His mind wandered at that - wondering what his old self ever truly was, while his hands trembled around his pocket-watch.

The knock sounded again, more anxious this time, and snapped him out of his trance. Emery jumped, voice squeaking slightly, "C-Coming!" He cleared his throat, swallowing any sign of fear. He placed his pocket-watch back into his front pocket. "Ah," he stated, untangling the long list of locks until he opened the door for the boy to enter. "Mr. Beck? Yes. Do come in, please."

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[info]cyprian
2010-02-05 05:48 am UTC (link)
He stepped into the apartment with the uneasy rush of a dog trying to escape the cold. Hackles raised, even if the source of his petulant tension wasn't obvious.

The 8th floor was fucking dismal, but if Trenton lived through visiting the destitution of the 1st floor, this was a cakewalk. 807 was cozy, at least. Even if it felt orderly and medicinal. "Thanks, doc."

Trenton's slim black tie was knotted loose, so that it looked almost more like a leash than a fashion accessory. The shirt sleeves were cuffed up to the elbows, haphazard but no less pristine. Clothing was intended to accentuate, especially when it cost this much, but there was no way it could improve on him. Even in his carelessness, Trenton was a portrait.

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[info]strangecase
2010-02-06 02:34 am UTC (link)
Emery closed the door behind Trenton. "It's- it's no problem. Please, make yourself at home," he insisted, waving a nonchalant hand over towards the cream couch. "Would you care for something to drink?" Though more than sure the boy wanted nothing from him but his help, Emery felt it was the courteous thing to do. Newcomers did not yet visit, patients remained a thing of the past - but who was he to forget manners so soon?

Still, he couldn't help but wonder what matters ailed this boy. He seemed the epitome of perfection. While he, himself, was never entirely disapproving of his own looks, he felt rather inferior simply looking at him. What did Emery have to offer that he could not possibly already possess?

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[info]cyprian
2010-02-07 06:16 am UTC (link)
"What'dya got?" His blue eyes skirted the visible tops of any counter, desk, bookshelf, or table. Looking for a glass decanter of bourbon or even just a jug of basement-distilled moonshine. Trenton saw no clues, not so much as a mojito wine cooler, and advanced slowly on the cream couch that Emery offered.

"Do I have to sign something? Or you? Doctors are sworn to silence, right? Like priests?" Turning, Trenton sank onto the plush, structured arm. It was comfortable and he slipped over the edge of it, reclining. Closing his eyes, with his legs half draped over the side of the couch. Ready to spill his secrets, Dr. Freud.

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[info]strangecase
2010-02-07 05:31 pm UTC (link)
Emery crossed the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator door. "Well-" He began, his own blue eyes darting about the contents of the box. "I have... Coca-cola, water, bee- beets, but those aren't particularly for drinking, are they?" A nervous laugh left his throat. Beer. Liam's beer. He knew that his brother was protective about his alcohol. If it had disappeared at the hands of some boy, Emery would never hear the end of it. Neither would the boy. "Ah, and there's milk!"

At Trenton's question, his head poked out from the side of the door, brows raised. "I- well, not exactly like priests. When you come to me, it is automatically under the contract of physician-patient confidentiality, you see. When I became a doctor, it was something I had to agree to. I promise you, whatever happens in here is between you and me, Mr. Beck."

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[info]cyprian
2010-02-08 01:44 am UTC (link)
"Milk.." Trenton wasn't asking for a glass, the word was sallow with amused disbelief. Was this fucker serious? Who the hell drank glasses of milk except Nazi interrogators or preschoolers having a luncheon with goldfish crackers and fruit snacks? Laughing to himself, Trenton crammed the heels of his hands against the sockets of his eyes. "Christ, that's bleak."

Peeling his hands away with a note of resolution, Trenton looked at the ceiling for a moment before speaking. "I was stabbed the other night." Sitting up and taking refuge at one side of the couch, he watched the doctor for reaction.

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[info]strangecase
2010-02-09 01:17 am UTC (link)
Noting the boy's obvious disinterest for the for the contents of his refrigerator, Emery closed the door with the slight ghost of a frown. At least he could say he tried, right? He pushed his fists into the depths of his pockets and strolled back casually in the direction of the couch.

It wasn't until he heard Trenton's quick testimony that he stopped himself in the middle of his stride. His brows nearly flung themselves off of his forehead in concern. "I beg- You were stabbed? But- Well, did you go to a hospital? Were you treated?" He found it a little - on the contrary, he found it extremely - unlikely that the stabbing caused him crucial damage. If so, Emery didn't think that Trenton would be settled on his couch then.

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[info]cyprian
2010-02-09 02:43 am UTC (link)
"Well," he hesitated and in the tradition of a nervous gesture he'd never even known to be his own, Trenton pushed fingers his dark hair. "Not exactly."

Pinning jaunted elbows to his knees and folding the cut of his knuckles against his jaw, Trenton observed the doctor, wordless while he scrounged for something sensible to say. "Is there- I mean, is it dangerous if-" Getting nowhere, he forced himself back against the couch with a huff, exasperated.

"I don't know what happened. I almost died, but then I didn't." Trenton couldn't say why he was telling this to a complete stranger, other than he felt compelled to talk to somebody. And his resident prostitute/counselor was missing in action, who else did he have? Fuck, that was depressing. His only legitimate confidant these days was a tranny hooker? Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

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[info]strangecase
2010-02-14 01:32 am UTC (link)
Emery's fascination with this boy sprouted and bloomed along with every passing word. He toyed with the watch at the bottom of his pocket, the heirloom being brushed past each of his fingertips as he watched Trenton closely. At the words almost died and then didn't, his fingers stopped. "After you were stabbed, what happened? Could you describe the events that took place?"

Cases supposedly existed - albeit rarely - where something such as this was possible. It was not particularly factual, nor was it logical, but Emery was never one to brush off impossibilities - especially after the birth of his brother. The birth of his maniacal alter-ego.

"Where are my manners- Could you describe the events that took place, please?"

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[info]cyprian
2010-02-14 05:23 am UTC (link)
"I don't know", he confessed with a seethe. All frustration, fear, and anger. Knuckles ran back into his hair, so tense they were white against all that black.

It was a feeling that Trenton wasn't familiar with, this well of fear bubbling up the base of his spine. A temperature gauge crawling toward it's own rupture. He didn't know what to do or think about what had happened to him, and what made him think this stranger could understand?

Trenton stood from the couch suddenly and stepped toward the door. "I don't know what I'm saying, forget it."

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[info]strangecase
2010-02-14 05:43 am UTC (link)
"Wait-" Emery urged hurriedly. His hands left his pockets and he took a sidestep to interrupt Trenton's exit. "You're no longer wounded, is that correct?" Of course it was correct. The curious doctor in him could just hardly stand to watch such a possible candidate for medical advancement escape his home so quickly. It was almost sacrilegious.

"You've- you've somehow managed to heal on your own. You've found it happening more and more often. A-am I touching any accurate facts, as far as you can see, or am I simply talking out of my nose?"

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[info]cyprian
2010-02-14 06:47 am UTC (link)
He came to a standstill on his way to the door, and it had nothing to do with the fact that the good doctor had stepped to intercept him. It was the words.

"How do- you've seen this before?" In this moment, he looked unfeasibly young. Too young to comfortably wear such expensive clothes, or such a sorry bastard of an expression.

"What is it? Some kind of blood clotting thing?"

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[info]strangecase
2010-02-14 06:54 am UTC (link)
Emery watched Trenton's eyes practically grow younger before his own and swallowed. "I- well, yes. I have heard of it. It's rare. Extraordinarily rare. The closest I have ever come to it, p-personally, has been through means of fiction, and is sometimes the very thing that most doctors and scientists try to prove as just that." Then again, Emery wasn't most doctors and scientists.

"May I see where you were stabbed? If you feel comfortable enough showing me, of course. I wouldn't want you to do anything that made you feel the opposite." He nodded politely, offering his hand back in the direction of the couch.

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[info]cyprian
2010-02-14 08:39 am UTC (link)
Trenton read the doctor with a cool, discerning snap of his eyes. So near the door, he could have stormed out in that second. But he didn't. Because he wanted to know. Because this doctor seemed to have some answer, even if it was an uncertain one. Trenton needed that.

He nodded in numb silence, riotous fingers wrenching the tie from his throat slowly. Unraveling the solid black silk into nothing but a noose before hauling it over his head, depositing it on the arm of the couch. Next, he turned on the buttons of his shirt. Thumbing them loose from their holes, shrugging out of starched white linen, and then peeling out of the wifebeater that lie beneath.

Finally, he was muscle and bone. Tattoo ink across the collars and unmarred skin. He turned around, and was an equal glimpse of perfection. Where he should have been a cutting board, he was himself.

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[info]strangecase
2010-02-14 05:24 pm UTC (link)
Crystalline blues widened broadly at the sight of the skin; there was truly no blemish of the flesh whatsoever. Emery resisted running a hand over it, to avoid causing Trenton anymore discomfort - in the case that he was already uncomfortable in the position he was in - and merely bent his back slightly to get a closer look. "Truly fascinating," he whispered incredulously.

His previous colleagues would think him mad to see he was accepting something so impossible. Something so supernatural couldn't occur, they would claim, Emery, get your mind out of the clouds again. But Emery never ruled out possibilities when it came to the natures of his work. No matter how bizarre the conclusion.

"Tell me, Mr. Beck, when you - er - when you recovered from this wound, did it hurt?"

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[info]cyprian
2010-02-15 05:47 am UTC (link)
When Emery commented, the bared stretch of Trenton's spine hunched as he began to pull the wifebeater back on. "No, it didn't hurt." Readjusting a thin stretch of ribbed cotton over his torso, his fingers plucked the hem to lie even. "It didn't feel like anything." Extremely conscious, Trenton turned.

"What's happening to me?"

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[info]strangecase
2010-02-15 08:02 am UTC (link)
Emery blinked quickly. What's happening to me? The words echoed solemnly throughout the contents of his mind. They were words he had asked his own doctors as a boy; they were words he still asked himself on that of a daily basis.

He regained his composure and placed a hand at the back of his neck to scratch idly at the skin there. "I cannot be too sure of its name. It will take a fair bit of research to give it a proper one - a name I mean, but I want you to know that what you are experiencing is nothing - well, it's not anything you should be worried about. Truly."

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[info]cyprian
2010-02-15 08:17 am UTC (link)
The doctor seemed confident, albeit barely, that this was nothing to worry about. Trenton had to laugh, and the sound was bitter enough to warrant a cringe. "Nothing to worry about.." Repeating the assurance with a note of mocking, shaking his head as he collected his white shirt and pulled his arms back into it. A part of him was inclined to rummage through the kitchen, find a knife and drive it into his own chest while screaming, "When should I start worrying?". But it was difficult to imagine such theatrics when he wasn't in some full-tilt coke mania. Maybe later, then.

"I think it goes without saying that nobody should hear about this." Not that they'd likely believe it, Trenton was still balancing on the idea that he was losing his mind.

"What do I owe you?" He asked whilst buttoning his shirt back up.

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[info]strangecase
2010-02-18 02:42 am UTC (link)
Emery was, frankly, insulted. The mockery he could not hold against the boy, but receiving money for something he had not yet found a name for? The idea seemed almost cruel. He shook his head briskly, whilst his fingers returned to their pocket-deep sanctuary.

"I- Of course. Your secret is safe with me. I know what it's like. Keeping such a secret," the corners of his mouth creased, revealing a pained smile, "As for your money, I- well, I'm afraid I simply cannot take it from you, Mister Beck. Even when I give you a further explanation, i-it's not important." Emery simply wished to help, not to run a charity. He and Liam knew how to survive on their own - if survive meant to just barely slide by.

"Keep it. Please."

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[info]cyprian
2010-02-20 06:16 am UTC (link)
Emery was adamant and convincing when he said he didn't want the money. And okay, now Trenton was suspicious. You simply couldn't trust a person if they wouldn't be bought.

"Don't doctors have a.. clinic fee.. or something?"

Although, Trenton was very aware in this moment that he wasn't buying Emery's time. Come on, this fucker looked lonely as hell. What else was he going to do with his afternoon? No, Trenton wanted to pay the toll of his silence.

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[info]strangecase
2010-02-20 04:45 pm UTC (link)
Emery's fingers slipped over the watch in his pocket at the simple mention of a doctor having a fee. It did not seem so simple to flatly explain that he, Emery, no longer possessed the "official" title of doctor. Quite frankly, the topic embarrassed him. But an excuse needed to be brought forth sooner rather than later - especially in the case that Trenton did not wish to leave until he produced the pay.

"W-well, yes, yes, th- we do, but this isn't a clinic and I have hardly supplied you with anything worthwhile! How about..." He attempted to straighten his back, but his shoulders simply slumped back down into their original position. He watched the carpet temporarily, making some point to gather the words that rarely cooperated with him. "If and when I provide you with you- your information, then I will accept the pay." Emery looked back to Trenton.

"I-is that suitable?"

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[info]cyprian
2010-02-21 06:13 pm UTC (link)
The man drove a hard bargain, but in the end, Trenton kept his wallet in his back pocket with an air of hesitant compliance. "Alright, we can do that."

Trenton wasn't entirely schooled in convincing people to take his money, they tended to perform that trick all of their own volition. Maybe the man didn't need money, and Trenton considered bartering. What could a man like Emery find useful? Some ecstasy? A date with a porn star? Something, he was sure. Trenton scrutinized Emery momentarily, but the distrust soon flickered into a keen grin. He'd discover Emery's price eventually. "Let me know, then."

With that, and the brief extension of a hand to shake on it, he headed for the door.

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