manuel (aguilar) wrote in theinvincibles, @ 2015-08-05 22:59:00 |
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Rememeber, life go’s on. It was glaring at him, taunting him from where someone wrote it in response to a message of heartbreak. Manuel only had plans to pee after checking out books not to come face to face on how the American school system had apparently failed even the metas. Now he stared, gaze fixed at eye level above a urinal and shook his head. He never paid much attention to what was written on walls. Most of it was the usual. Call/find person for a good time, couple initials with forever somewhere around them, so-and-so is a slut, but now he wished he hadn't as the errors seemed to appear the longer he looked at one piece of wall. your awesome, now flush and wash you’re hands! germs r bad guys. Good advice but sloppily written above a toilet. BE QUEIT, it’s a librarie. In silver written on the toilet stall door. “That’s not even possible, how can someone get that so wrong?” He muttered to himself, voice almost a whine. More misspellings, more grammatical errors and Manuel slowly losing confidence in his fellow metas. He mouthed words that he didn’t understand, he sighed heavily at every ‘name was/wuz here’ he found but laughed at a few he found funny (Don’t drink and drive, take acid and teleport, being the top contender). Ultimately no option was left. He hung his backpack from a bathroom stall hook, pulled out and uncapped a red sharpie to begin correcting. The marker made soft squeaking and swooshing noises as he wrote unaware of anything else in the empty bathroom. Noah had been in the corner stall of the library’s bathroom when someone entered. He’d just finished peeing, but didn’t want to make potential awkward bathroom smalltalk. His plan was to just hang out in the bathroom until he was done his business, wash his hands and get back to work. Yes, it was a waste of time, but if the library had a staff restroom, he wouldn’t have to hide out in a stall while strangers used the urinal. Apparently, the stranger was in no rush to leave. Noah sat on the toilet seat for a few minutes, listening to the guy mumble and laugh to himself before he heard the distinct sound of marker on tile. He should stop that right? He definitely remembered someone saying that they should discourage bathroom graffiti during his job orientation last week. Sighing softly, he exited the stall. Why him? “Dude,” He frowned at the vandal, who definitely wasn’t young enough to be a dumb high school student, “Seriously?” In the supposed empty bathroom... Suddenly a stall door opened and out stepped an unfamiliar face. Manuel frowned at him, sharpie poised over the tile as he tried to place him. A friend of Paul's? Probably, Paul (like Manuel) had been here for years and made friends (unlike Manuel) in a blink of an eye. Manuel called it aggressive befriendment because once Paul noticed you, started talking and actively sought you out, there was absolutely no going back to being strangers. He didn’t know everyone but knew most just by face and this one was definitely a new face - Manuel looked him over - of that he was sure. He could lie. It would be easy, It's not what it looks like. But that would be a horrible lie because it was exactly what it looked like. "Yeah,” He started, reaching into his pocket to recap the marker to keep it from drying out. “I know this looks bad but getting any type of message across on any platform requires proper spelling and grammar." Manuel stated with a shrug, gesturing to the misspelled graffiti. It was foolish, he was aware, and not all that important to him but here they were. Him and an unfamiliar face who came out of a stall when Manuel thought he was alone. "Were you waiting in there for me to leave so you could leave? Or do you always use public bathrooms without flushing?" “Sure,” Noah crossed his arms, one eyebrow raised, “Like I’m supposed to believe you’re in here correcting bathroom graffiti like some kind of grammar vigilante?” He squinted at the area of the wall, the vandal was gesturing to. Huh, that actually was the wrong “you’re” crossed out and replaced with “your”. He uncrossed his arms to take a closer look, but the stranger had started speaking again and- “Oh shit!” Noah quickly turned back into the stall to flush the toilet, embarrassed that he’d forgotten. When he re-emerged, he shoved his hands into his pocket, “I was waiting for you to leave, actually. But then you had to turn out to be a delinquent.” Manuel gasped softly, his hand coming to rest on his chest in mock offense. Amused, he watched the other as he made his way back into his abandoned stall before being rejoined. "As you can clearly see, I only want people to think twice before committing their acts of vandalism." Manuel gestured to a different piece of vandalism. But they can talk about that later. "Do you often wait for people to leave bathrooms so you can leave too? Or were you just wasting time here?" Manuel used to do both when he was younger and didn't want to be here. Now, he fully accepted his fate which is why he decided to sign up for Operative Training. If he was going to be here then he would do something more productive rather than selling metalwork on the internet. “Actually, I try not to use public bathrooms,” Noah shrugged nonchalantly, “But yeah if I have to I prefer not to interact with other people. I don’t like bathroom conversation.” It seemed like a perfectly logical thing to do, in his opinion. Manuel agreed, finding the others logic sound but not on the second half. Such a thing was not easily done when they were all such in close quarters despite the many floors of the Lock. You could hardly get away from people without trying incredibly hard. "What exactly qualifies as bathroom conversation?" Manuel asked curiously. "Like. 'this bathroom is one the better bathrooms I've relieved myself in' or 'It's nice that there's someone going around correcting grammar of the bathroom graffiti, it gives the whole building a more lived in feel despite basically being a dumping ground we can send unwanted individuals.'?" Maybe the more vulgar way of taking that he knew boys did was what the other referred to. “No,” Noah started slowly, brows knit together halfway between amusement and confusion, “Like, conversations in bathrooms. Mostly small talk about the weather, even though most of us see the outside for less than a month every year. Did you come up with that last one just now? Or do you spend most of your time thinking about bathroom graffiti?” “Oh,” Manuel understood now, small talk in general was what he avoided. He couldn’t blame him though. “Small talk is boring, I’ve learned to let people talk while offering an agreeing noise or a few words in return at minimum. It works pretty well and it’s rare to find someone that’ll pressure you into saying more.” Most people stopped small talk and just said ‘hi’ and ‘how you’ve been’ or ‘have a good day’ after a while. “Just now, I only pay attention to bathroom graffiti when it’s hard to avoid.” Again Manuel motioned to the writing on the wall but specifically the first one that caught his eye. “I personally think that this one,” he pushed his backpack to the side so Noah could see the one containing ‘queit’ and ‘librarie’. “was done on purpose because there’s no way someone could ever get something so wrong without it being intentional.” “Woah yeah,” Noah stepped closer to the wall, sounding appalled, “That’s either by someone who has the ability to typo without a computer, or someone who thinks they’re funnier than they actually are.” He’d known a lot of people like that in high school on the outside, he wasn’t surprised that it would be the same in The Lock. "Or trying a little bit too hard to get attention. It happens every once in a while in here when kids try to further stand out when someone else comes in with their same power." Manuel had lived through a lot of times where a kid suddenly tried a bit too hard because they seemed to feel that a new kid with the same power was more interesting. It was much worse when he was a child. "How long have you been at the Lock? I don't think I've seen you around before." “Uh,” Noah pressed his lips together, suddenly feeling self conscious, “Just a little under a month. That story’s a little too specific for it to be just a hypothetical though. I’m guessing you’ve been around for a while?” Manuel shouldn't have been surprised, he called the other being new at first sight after all. But still his eyebrows jumped before he could keep his expression neutral, something inside twinged with jealousy before he could tell himself he didn’t care. "13 years and counting." He replied, lips tight but curving slightly. "Did anything fun out there before, you know, coming here?" “Wow that’s…. terrible,” The words were out before he could process them, he tried to make his expression apologetic, “I mean, I guess it depends on your definition of fun but no. I didn’t really have friends or whatever.” “It is what it is.” Manuel said with a shrug. “My definition of fun shouldn’t influence your definition of fun but..” Manuel waved off his sentence. “Well, take it from a guy who was a child dropped into this whole thing when he was five, you kind of need friends in a place like this. Otherwise you’ll get really lonely.” “Actually, I was exaggerating. I have friends, well a friend,” His eyes shifted down to the ground as he mentioned TJ, “Anyways, I prefer being alone to... the alternative. Not that I’m uh- judging your lifestyle choices or anything.” "My lifestyle choices could use a bit of judgement." Manuel said with a slight smile. "I mean, I'm here correcting bathroom graffiti when I could be literally elsewhere in the buildings with other people, after all. Not that you're not interesting because you most definitely are." “I’m not that interesting,” Noah replied automatically, “Not nearly as interesting as a bathroom graffiti vigilante.” His phone vibrated in his back pocket and he pulled it out to check the notification. “I’d love to stay and chat, but apparently I’m needed at the front desk. It was nice to meet you uh- I never got your name?” “Manuel,” He answered, a slight accent on his tongue changing the usually three syllable name (when pronounced by most Americans) into one with two. His grandmother taught him his name, exactly how it should be said, how he should always press it to be said. “I’ll let you get back to it,” Manuel paused for a moment, looking over the other quickly before his eyes settled on his ID badge. “Noah.” Noah followed Manuel’s eyes to where his name was pinned to his shirt, “Ah yeah, I guess I’ll see you later.” He washed his hands at the sink before leaving the bathroom, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to ignore grammar mistakes in bathroom graffiti ever again. |