InsaneJournal

Who: Shane and Boyd
What: Breakfast!
Where: Le Croquembouche
When: This morning.
Warnings: TBA.



Shane was sitting in Le Croquembouche, with a coffee sitting on the table in front of him. He wasn't particularly hungry, so he'd stuck with just a plain coffee with sugar. He sat by the window with a book--a collection of fairy tales and other stories--and waited for Boyd.

Shane had spoken to Boyd only briefly over the last few days, and only on the forums. What correspondence they'd had had revolved around Vaughn, as far too many of their conversations seemed to, and hadn't lasted long. The anonymous post had come and gone, no worse, really, than usual. He'd spent the days trying, trying, trying to get himself in order.

In everything he did, every attempt he made to 'get better,' there seemed to be a specter just over his shoulder, a cruel voice. Did it really matter what he did, at this point, whether he succeeded or fell totally into a twisting, gnashing dervish of self-destruction?

The future seemed dark. Every time he took a small step in the right direction, he felt as if he still had miles to go. And what was waiting for him at the end?

Boyd didn't love him anymore. No, she wasn't in love with him, but it felt like the same thing. If he found a way to stop killing, found some other outlet, found a job that actually meant something to him, fine. But then all he would have was something marginal, something barely skimming above functional. Happiness seemed an impossibility. Nothing had ever made him happy before Boyd--why should anything make him happy after her?

Above all things, he had decided that he had no desire to be a burden to her anymore. Not to her, not to Cole, not to anyone else. He would rely on himself. He would go back to a facade of being fully functional, and try to make sure no one could tell he felt otherwise.

He felt he'd made a good start. He'd posted on the boards after the anonymous post, talked to some tenants, been social despite the fact that it was the last thing in the world he felt like doing, and struck up a conversation with a few new residents.

But he didn't hold out any kind of hope that pretending nothing was wrong would make everything smooth out. He wasn't that stupid, or that optimistic.

His path was clear. He'd do what he had to in order to convince Boyd that he was capable of getting along on his own. He'd find a way to stop killing. He'd take a college class or two--who knew? Maybe he'd even find something that would interest him, something that seemed worth his time. He'd go informant, and clear his record to make sure it could never be used against Boyd. And when she no longer felt tied to him out of pity and guilt, she could go and be happy. With Daniel, maybe, with someone else, maybe. And that, in itself, could at least bring back the satisfaction that had been missing in his life for so long.