jonathan peal (tinker bell). (geek) wrote in fableless, @ 2016-07-21 22:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log/thread, jonathan peal, sumner grace |
WHO: Sumner Grace and Jonathan Peal.
WHAT: Sumner has Opinions and Feelings and expresses none of them; Jon is still too hungover for literally any of this.
WHEN: Friday, 7/21.
WHERE: Jon's Office.
While he hadn’t actually been at the Bad Apple on Wednesday, he’d heard recaps of the evening from multiple sources, with different emphasis and different notable moments depending on who was doing the talking. So yes, eventually, in one such retelling, almost as a throwaway comment, it had come up. And it was petty of him to care. Because he was right, and Nate was right, and being stupidly attracted to a Professor was even dumber than his Jasper Situation. Nothing could come of it and nothing should come of it, because Sumner was not the kind of boy who ruined men’s careers, definitely not if he considered them a friend. And yet. At 10:01AM on Friday, Sumner flounced into Jon’s office without knocking, slammed the door behind him and took the seat in front of Jon’s desk as it might try and throw him off. ’Are you expecting real students?’ He signed, lips pressed tight together, because he was annoyed but he did actively TRY to not negatively affect other people’s education. To say the waiting professor was taken aback would have been an understatement. While his hangover had been injust, he thought, come Thursday morning, what was more unjust was that the headache had been lingering even to today: his flinch at Sumner's slamming the door was enough to indicate that. Where there might usually have been admonishment or sourness in response to that kind of abrupt entrance, it was almost too much for Jon to even comprehend. His answer came in an uncertain signing back of, Not for a while at least. There was barely a beat before he continued, just as outwardly confused in expression, Is everything all right? It was a blatant enough reaction that it nudged at Sumner, reminded him of the fact that when it came to jealousy he had about as much chill as Eddie. But it sucked. Jasper was getting hit on by multiple hot guys who weren’t too young for him, Jon was laughing about having a genuinely cool, leggy blonde in his lap and — Sumner flushed, realising all at once that he was perilously close to going on about how he was lonely and horny and jealous to another friend. How many would that make? He let his head drop back and his legs fall open, taking some small comfort in the boyishness slant of it at all; his mind was ticking over time with girl girl girl. He shook his head, a tiny bit, because there was no way Jon would believe a ‘yes’ right now. But he could twist the truth of what he was actually here about. ’I’m annoying myself’ he signed, without opening his eyes, appreciating the peculiar freedom that came from Jon’s telepathic ability. ’And I’m probably annoying a load of my friends. While he’d been shameless at the time, he cringed now, thinking about the 3AM text he’d send Roz about the Ball, the whining at Jemma on multiple occasions and he’d even started on Nate and Jaime, now. ’I think I need to write another book. Young Adult this time, not complicated, not slow-burn. It wasn't a real answer: it was the indication of there being an answer, that no, everything was not all right, because he was doing this, and needed to do that—but there was no indication as to why, or what the problem was. For Jon's still slower-than-usual brain, it was hard enough to work that much out. He strove nonetheless, concerned in a way he assumed anyone would be if the cheerful brutal bold nineteen-year-old that was Sumner Grace showed up clearly upset and unprepared to talk about it beyond the disjointed statements he'd made between fingertip and thumb. Eyes closed still, instead of signing Jon reached out to speak inside his head, quiet still somehow in intonation. I don't mind being annoyed. And it sounded very much as though he meant it. What's happened? The smile that curled Sumner’s lips was little, but definitely there. ‘You DO have much experience in being annoyed’ He flexed his fingers out when he was done. Took a breath. Considered how close he could get to the fire without being burned. ’I have shit taste in men. He signed, fast and fluid. Or, rather, I have AWESOME taste in men for five years or more into the future me, not so much for me right here, right now.’ Though Sumner couldn't see it, Jon's head tilted slightly in return anyway; his thoughts were still moving sluggishly and it was hard to see the connection, between annoying himself and annoying others, and this issue now. It took him a few moments to piece even the smallest bits together, another few to determine how to proceed. Advice, apparently, of the nonplussed variety: I can't imagine any friend worth their salt would be bothered hearing problems in your life, romantic or otherwise. And it wasn't as though Sumner had any shortage of friends. Slow replies happened with Jon, sometimes. He almost didn’t think anything of it. But it was a pause too long, a breath, and so Sumner opened his eyes and looked at Jon properly. Even after a year of back and forth, it was still — odd to have a voice in his head that wasn’t attached to himself, so he let it pass before he signed his response, a non-sequitur that to him, made quite a lot of sense. Did you drink last night as well? Jon's frown was sudden, felt deeply enough to crease his forehead; it had sent a pang through his middle, feeling like an insult in response to what he'd tried with great effort to make reassuring. That response meant he'd missed the point. That response meant he was inferior to Sumner's intellect, that he was two steps behind. His first two fingers came up, then snapped down to his thumb in a sharp No. Sumner’s reaction to being snapped at by him was immediate; wide eyes, parted lips, ducked head. He dragged the nub of his thumbnail over his knee. Slightly flushed, slightly hating how deep some of his instincts ran. Okay He signed one handed, eyes downcast. I didn’t intend to be a nuisance this time. A loud sigh reverberated through the room, tinged with frustration. It was Jon's hands that lifted to cover his face, palms side by side, dragging over his eyes and settling, elbows pressed against the desk, against his profile. Seconds dragged by, and then without announcement he was lifting his head out of his hands, fingers flying in the same moment. Why are you here? The emphasis on the second part of the question was genuine, asking for honesty. Really. There were a lot of answers to that question, as true as they were varied. They went something like this: I heard Yulia got to sit in your lap and I was jealous; I nearly always come to your office hours; I'm sad and needed to feel wanted; I'm a manipulative and terrible person and I don't think enough people realise that. But his only response was to give a small shrug, eyes old and sad, and mouth 'I'm sorry.' |