Vivaldi Follows Me [Closed]

[Ellison Eisenstein]

November was ending, its dying brown petals whitening to a peaceful white, blooming again as snow blossoms in December. Endless forests of nature's slumber began to envelop itself in the annal silent passing, a quiet falling like think sheets as the creatures found their resting homes, ready to live through the cold of months to come. For Ellison, it was a symphony of heraldic wonder, his favorite time of the year.

The snowballs, with subsequent forts and finally snow-based battlements, where snowflakes packed into ammunition fueled frozen fires of war, were the symbols of his joy. Out of the door he would appear, like a tank of cloth and down feathers, letting his eyes process the miraculous light refraction of the snow. Soon he would need sunglasses, as white fields against open skies brought him such obscurement of sight that he could suffer total blindness. However, under a safe gray firmament the white of the snow would, so more often than not, dance to Ellison, and Ellison alone. In the frozen liquid, light would bend itself to the will of young Eli, his eyes capturing the most dazzling display of colors, a vibrant rainbow dancing on the ground. It only took a flick of manipulation, altering the magnification and interpretation of the snows blanketing white, to trigger the chromatography before him. Until that day came, Ellison would have to accept the creeping cold alone, bidding a quiet farewell to life before welcoming winter as his favored guest.

The field's grass was kept well cut and defiantly green, vigilantly viridian until the very end. Ellison's black shoes met the study resistance of the already hardening earth. Open eyes assessed the empty field. So easy to slip out during class, to avoid prying eyes. Yet, solitude brought more questions than answers, and in the singularity of his venture he could only discover the silent specter haunting his mind, more profound than any manipulation of the sensory realm.

Would there come a day that he may have to use his ability against someone? The idea of power training filled Ellison with a fear he could scarcely contemplate. All he had was a modest collection of parlor tricks, only temporary fixes to aid in his escapes. In the comfort of his own body, in front of a mirror, his own senses could be like putty to his brain, many nights he would experiment with the reach of his own power on himself. But an enemy, one that is violent, moving, and intelligent, would not be stopped by the ten-cent tricks of a petty magic-man.

On the other hand, there was a risk of something much worse, as is the usual case with the world. No enemy would ever truly be the omega to his alpha, the black to his white. The world was never that simple, and an enemy might in a different light be a dear friend. An enemy might be one temporally, or simply one that could be disabled and not wounded. Ellison felt in his meta-brain the power to do terrible things to the senses of a man. Powers to indue awful fear and torture, to bring the greatest man to weeping knees.

The prospect wracked his mind, his hands gripping his head in confusion, fingers plowed in his hair, eyes open staring out into the treeline forests on the outskirts of Hammel grounds. Too tangled up in the personal conflict that waged onward in his mind, even Ellison's senses would not detect the footsteps marching up behind him.

[Jared Park]

‘Marching’ would probably be a word too stiff to describe the way the young boy moved across the now-white training field grounds. In fact, considering how the boy’s almost always bursting with energy, one could actually say that the moment such words that denote rigidity and constraint be put in the same sentence as his name, well, we should start preparing for the worse.

Ok. So maybe I exaggerate. But only by a bit.

In any case, the Canadian wasn’t marching as he went out from the warmth of the school building. He was jumping, prancing, grinning and giggling – apparently extremely excited at the sight of the white blanket now covering the school grounds. Not that it’s his first time seeing the stuff (he was born and raised in Canada after all), it’s just that he’s been bogged down by schoolwork lately that he hasn’t really had the time to enjoy it.

Until now anyway.

Clad in a full winter ensemble – complete with his newly-bought shark mittens – the boy saw a few of his friends and happily engaged them in a snowball fight, being hit in the face more often than securing a hit on them himself. The riot lasted for a while, until the initiator (Jared, that is) waved the white flag, telling his friends he’s already tired laughing and screaming as snowballs went under his shirt owning them.

His friends were quick to call it off, and were on their way back to their respective rooms. But Jared being the supposedly impish boy that he is, made one last snowball and threw it to their direction. But as reliable as his arm might be, it missed and hit an unsuspecting boy at the back of the head.

“Oh my gosh! So sorry!” yelled Jared, running towards the boy as he flailedwaved his arm. And with grace on with the boy when he’s in the dance floor, he inevitably tripped a few inches from his innocent victim, falling face first on the boy’s feet. “I totally did not mean to hit you. My friends, they dodged fast.”

Cue in awkward grin. Hopefully he won’t get creamed for this.

ooc:
Hopefully the apparent shortness won't bother you. Sorry. ^^.
- Jam

[Ellison Eisenstein]

The snow softly covered the field as Ellison phased out, deep in troubling thoughts while consideration for his surroundings waned. So much so, that when that destined snowball collided with the back of his head, his balance was nearly destroyed. The frozen dampness chilled here and stung there, and if he had better sense in that moment he would've appreciated such a well packed snowball, only a pro snowball craftsmen could have forged that missile.

But his balance would give way as this stranger attempted a consultation and subsequent tumble of his own, creating a domino effect. The two figures sank into the snow, Ellison's darting eyes capturing only the pure whiteness of winter's precipitation as his descent was face-first. As his sweater dampened in the snow, and his head half buried, he spit away the snow from his face and laughed, harder than he had ever laughed before. A hilarious and absurd chortle, that burned his lungs as the cold air rushed in and out of his throat. Barely containing his laughter, he managed to speak.

“Nice shot!” He tried to move his head away from the growing snow blanket, turning his head to reveal rosy cheeks and pursed lips barely containing his excitement. Glancing down with his one unsubmerged eye he spotted his assailant of fun. “Should have seen that coming, but...” More snow covering his lips, his muffled words drawing in more snowflakes. His half-sentence would remain uncompleted as he found the sense to bring him back onto his feet.

His rise was unstable, his form rising while coated in snow. His vision slowly returned to take in the thick snowfall, like shifting curtains falling in unison with the soft wind. A brief pause was taken by Ellison, admiring the moment's singularity. For this moment, as all the others had departed, in the quiet winter they existed as two small souls in a growing white canvas of natural beauty. But brief nonetheless, and as the moment was captured in his mind, he took the few steps over to his fallen companion. His hand extended down to help this rather intriguing entity, and as noticed the unique and outright adorable shark-shapes gloves his smile curved up into a wily smirk. “Promise me you won't bite.”

[Jared Park]

Jared’s anxiety only grew more when he saw the boy he accidentally hit fall down on the ground face first. Caring not about what the people around him might think (he somehow knows the he sticks out like a sore thumb on a daily basis; no point pretending or hiding his supposedly weird personality), another rather girly squeal escaped the Asian boy as he ran towards his victim, the blanket of snow making the dash a little harder than usual. It’s probably this – combined with his paranoia and innate clumsiness – that caused the boy to miss the root in his path, and awkwardly follow the boy with his winter dive.

The Canadian slowly looked up, biting his lip and blushing red in embarrassment, readying himself for a good shouting to. While he’d rather not get into a fight (with his lanky arms he’s sure to lose), he knows he pretty much deserves it. But then, the boy suddenly laughed. This caught Jared off guard, staring up at the boy with his jaw agape.

Did he just miss something?

Jared wouldn’t deny it, the laughter that erupted from the boy made him feel better, but something about the whole thing still feels off. “Say what now? You’re not…angry with me?” He was just about to prop himself up – his arms and legs were already shifting from beneath him – when he saw the hand stretched out to him. Despite his doubts about the oddness of the situation, he instinctively grabbed them, brushing some of the snow that clung onto his sweater off as he finally stood up. “Nope. I don’t bite. I swallow my prey whole,” he said with a grin, making chomping gestures with his hands.

“I’m reaaaally sorry for hitting you at the back,” muttered the boy a few seconds later, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, “Like, err, ahhh, urm…you want a shot at me? I promise I won’t dodge.” He promptly took a few steps back and even spread his arms wide. “And you can have more than two shots. Since I threw one at you when you weren’t aware and I hit you while you had your back on me.”

Normally he’d treat a person out for ice cream, but the weather seems a bit too cold. He could’ve opted to simply get him a cup of hot cocoa, but then it’s too already too late to retract his words, right?

ooc:
Dylaaaaaan. Sorry this took soooooooooooooooooooooo loong. I really did not mean to stall it like this. >.>
- Jam

[Ellison Eisenstein]

His left hand felt the remains of that destined snowball on his head, bits snow still attached to his collar, others melting in his hair. Snow still drifted down in thick sheets, moving softly in waves, musical notes falling with conductor winds. Ellison's black clothes had lost most of its black, to its exact counterpart with only his face a flush mix of white and red.

“This has happened to me more than once. Well, not someone apologizing, but the blindsiding of snowballs.” His wide smile faded a bit. “And it's not really your fault either. Any snowfield is a potential battlefield, I was a bystander with too much on his mind. I was...” He caught himself, the eagerness to speak overstepping modesty. He wasn't going to bore this boy with his personal conflicts.

“What I mean to say is, thanks for giving me a wake up call. But...” A few devious thoughts sneaked in, giving him pause whilst contemplating a fitting punishment. Two birds could be killed with one stone, even if he hated that analogy he could still respect its meaning in this current situation. It didn't take long for him to formulate, and the promise of its outcome returned a grin to his face, although now in a mischievous form.

“But I can't just let you get away with that. No, we'll have to make this interesting, I'm not one for the snowball-for-a-snowball rule, so we'll have to think of something different. Yes...” His quick energetic stride brought him close to the boy again, his hands squeezing the shark mittens and pulling his arms down to their sides. “This can work. I want you to close your eyes. Keep them closed and just listen to the sound of my voice.”

Ellison's footsteps, each step sinking into the fresh snow, backed away from the boy. Unsure intentions sizzled in the back of his mind, but he would be sure to be careful. To be safe. Nothing could go wrong, it wasn't as if he was dealing with too many sensory contradictions, the white overlay was to him a a clean studio, and this boy his fresh canvas.

“Tell me your name. I'll tell you mine. It's Ellison. You'll need to remember that if you want to avoid a face full of snow for the second time.”

[Jared Park]

Seems like Jared’s in for quite an emotional roller coaster at the moment. First there was utter glee when he went out to the grounds. Then excitement when he engaged his friends into a snowball fight. Mischief when he shot that last snow ball which quickly turned to embarrassment and fear when it missed. And judging by the look of things, it’ll later transform into anxiety.

But at the moment, he’s just plain confused.

“Err, can you say that again?” asked the boy, mouth slightly agape and hand unconsciously scratching his chin. Though the boy claims that he’s not as dense or as stupid as some people would claim, it’s moments like these that he can’t do anything else but concede to such conclusions. He knows what the words meant, and he got a general sense of what Ellison was saying, but for some weird reason it just didn’t click all that good in his head.

Perhaps it was the rapid use of so-called ‘big words’ – words Jared wouldn’t normally expect in such a casual conversation (blindsiding, battlefield, bystander, the like). Or the uncertainty with which the boy spoke. (Like something was on his mind even). In any case, Jared felt like an ESL student. A ‘FOB’ even, he says. Which is quite the insult to him, since despite his Oriental appearance, he’s very much a Westerner, born and raised in the rather Asian city of Vancouver.

He tilted his head to the side as Ellison backed away, still confused to what might happen next. The Korean boy would’ve wanted to protest, but since he did owe Ellison at least this, he decided not to say it anymore, quickly retracting his extended arm and closing his mouth. “I won’t die or anything, right?” uttered the boy as he put both his hands over his eyes and taking in deep breaths. In Hammel, anything’s possible. Hopefully once this is all over with, Jared would at least be able to remember himself still.

“I’m Jared. Jared Park. Please don’t kill me Ellison, I…I still need to get a pet hamster. I’ve always wanted to cuddle cute little furry beasts like them. Once I finally get one, then I’ll be good to die. I think,” he gulped.

Here goes nothing.

[Ellison Eisenstein]

Ellison was abusing the moment. Every voice in his collective conscious was warning him against it. This was something for a power trainer, someone with experience, a teacher who could step in if it went too far. His better judgment, even on a bad day, would warn him against what he was doing. Considering the safety of himself should had been the largest red flag, not to mention Jared's well being.

So cast blame on the irrational, the nonsensical, the idiot drive that propelled Ellison to betray his worries and personal convictions towards safety. It wasn't the first time he would lie to himself, that he convinced himself beyond his own judgment of a horrible idea. He had to try, on his own terms, even if they were dangerous and still very ill-trained and little-understood.

“Jared, just keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them. This won't exactly equate to a sneak attack snowball, but... well, you'll see.” His hands reached out, resting on Jared's hands over his eyes. He needn't touch, but Ellison thought it would be appropriate. Quiet the fall, the wipe of canvas of the mind, the paintbrush senses marrying the oblivion of snow white. “You can still hear my voice, Jared. Just not the same way anymore. I'd say more, but my words can't really amount. Open your eyes. Open your ears.”

[shadow=red,left,300]“The brain is merely a switch-box." Biology class with sneering gazes jeered at Ellison's response to his teacher question. So subtle was his power then, he could actually tune out their voices, and make gray noise of their faces, focusing on the one person who would consider his response. “We've all been made with the switches we have, placed in the right positions. Looking, hearing, even tasting, is just my brain reading the information it can't speak with my words. Words can't always amount.”[/shadow]

A switch-box can always be changed, and Ellison had switched around Jared's brain, or more accurately how the brain read information. Ellison was caught off guard because of a lack of attention, but more importantly, he wasn't listening. Listening for the snowball fight, the sounds around him, anything that could anchor him enough in his surroundings to know if and when someone would prepare for an ill-fated snowball throw.

So for Jared, Ellison had places an sensory redirection. No real elegance to his action, strictly biological. Where Jared had once heard, he now saw. It was an emulation of echolocation, with the optic nerves transcribed to the brain as auditory information.

To Jared, the world was at first black, a soundless environment waiting for colorized echoes to paint his sight. The chilling breeze, now visible, was a shifting gray that illuminated part of the trees far away, while the falling of snow was almost invisible thin lines, precise pencil lines, where the sound of the wind had been absorbed. Over time, the black of the ground grew more profound, the packed snow absorbing the sound of the background. Soft shades of white and yellow waxed and waned from the academy complex afar.

“It's temporary, try not to panic.” All of the sudden blue. A wash of azure across black and gray, overpowering the background, stemming from a singular location, echoing across its form, creating a thin silhouette of a form. From his lips splotches of color, painting a visage of eyes, cheeks, lips, and teeth. “Take a few minutes, let things sink in. Your brain is trying to gallop when the coach, your eyes and ears, is telling it to run. You get the same conclusion, just not how it was supposed to be given.”

[Jared Park]

Jared is usually not opposed to having people’s powers used on him. As it was, within the Asian boy’s first few months in Hammel, he’d been asking every person his knew to demonstrate what they can do to him. Sure almost all of them weren’t trained so there was a safety issue, but Jared didn’t really mind; a stray pebble from a telekinetic may bruise or a small ember made by a pyrokinetic can singe, but the Canadian insists that it’s part of the learning process. In fact, mishaps like that only strengthen the boy’s belief about how awesome that particular power is and how lame his own is compared to that.

But nothing could’ve prepared him for what Ellison was doing to him.

With his anxiety skyrocketing within seconds, Jared took deep breaths in an effort to calm himself down. Ellison didn’t sound all too threatening anyway. Sure he sounds eerie and creepy, but that might be because of his tone and the vagueness in his words. He fiddled nervously with his thumbs, trying to follow his instructions.

Close your eyes.

That was easy. All black. Nothing weird really. Hoping to distract himself, he tried to guess what powers Ellison might have. Making him close his eyes could mean his powers are more of the mind than physical, though it might be that he’s making some snowman copy of Jared and surprising him soon after. Or he could be a shapeshifter and it’s taking him quite some time to copy Jared’s form. Boy would that be amazing. The trouble he could get himself in having an exact copy of himself.

Open your ears. Open your eyes.

The time for thinking is over, as it seems. Filled with joyous anticipation, the boy slowly opened his eyes, grinning from ear to ear. And boy was he in for a surprise.

Almost immediately, panic set in. He couldn’t see anything! Was he blind? Was there something in his eyes? He could see a movement, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Everything doesn’t seem like it was. Where’d the boy go to? Where’s the tree? The building? Where is he?

“What’s happening?!” the boy shouted in panic, dropping to his knees as tears went down his face. The sudden splash of colour, from his own voice and from Ellison’s, only made him panic even more. He wasn’t processing what Ellison was saying anymore; he felt like he was dying. “Make it stop! Please make it stop!” he yelled with his eyes closed, burying himself in his gloves, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I won’t throw snowballs at you ever again!”

ooc:
Sorry this took so long (and if it is rather crappy). Last week was my finals week so I didn't have enough free time. And after that my muse was drained so it took me a while to recover. I promise to do better next time. So so sorry.
- Jam

[Ellison Eisenstein]

The black landscape brought no joy that Ellison excepted, no wonder or excitement. Just a minute more, he thought to himself, watching Jared tremble in fear as a terrified soul in an alien world, a culture shock of the senses and the perceptive receptors. No, he thought more, the growing anxiety quietly suppressed as not to let know to Jared his own growing uncertainty, he'll get used to it.

“If you don't like this, I can change it.” His voice was slowly growing in the confidence before, although now interwoven with a rising air of enthusiasm, nearing on pride. “Take your hands down, they're just tools. Your body is just a tool. I always ask for permission, but even the woman who brought me here, miss understanding, couldn't ever stomach the change. But I don't understand why.”

The touching of Jared's eyes was a formality, a courtesy fitting of the nature of Ellison's alteration. However, now skipped the ceremonies, and reviewed Jared's brain again. “I made it blue because I thought it would be pleasing to your eyes. But it doesn't have to be like that. That's just the eyes and your ears, little organ powerhouses. But I can just turn them both off. Some people like silence. But I bet you like variety!”

More changes, drastic in speed and complexity. The soft black and blue folded into a kaleidoscope. Vivid colors, many of which were beyond the spectrum of sight, flashed like rabid specters, while the firmament above warped and waned like burning paper. “It's all for you, tell me what you want, but not the real colors. I can't make it stop, I'm not stopping anything. Your eye is just a tool, reality is just a tool, everything is just a tool for your brain! So let me help you use them!”

Still Jared showed fear, and a repulsive fear to Ellison. Just a reactionary impulse of ignorance, of terror and seclusion, of a mind too fearful to reach out and defy the senses. “I'm giving you a gift, you helped me more than you know. Just relax! I know I can make this work for you, but you just have to let it through!” The kaleidoscope flashed brighter, maddeningly twirling the color spectrum faster and faster. A growing frustration was rooting itself in Ellison, grinding at his patience with deadly efficiency.

He wanted this to work, not for Jared, but for himself. He wanted his powers to be a positive thing, when before he only saw it with doubt and worry. A weapon, a power to impose onto others. If only it could be an aid, he wished for himself from the moment he came to Hammel. So he pressed on, for a selfish need to find good, to change Jared's mind so that he could convince himself. So as Jared continued to resist, so did it aggravate Ellison, the self-doubt mounting and the possibility of failure inching closer and closer as a looming omen.

“No, Jared, just give in! You'll love it this way, I know you will! You don't have to feel anything, see anything, hear anything! Or you can feel anything and everything you want, just let it happen, let me do this for you! You will like it, you will thank me for it, just give in!”

ooc: terribly sorry about the wait!

[Jared Park]

Never had Jared been so terrified of a power display as he is right now.

Despite the calmness and soothing quality of Ellison’s voice, it did nothing to lower the Asian kid’s anxiety. Sure his sobbing has subsided, he’s not shivering much and his breathing’s back to normal (or at least close to it), but his fear of what’s happening around him still is as high as ever. It’s rather crippling really, how scared the boy is. He still can’t open his eyes, and the severe panic he’s feeling is making him get less than half of what Ellison was saying. (Not that he’s that dumb or anything, but even in a normal conversation, with the way Ellison words his points, Jared would probably get around two-thirds of what he’s saying at best; with his current state of mind, getting a third of it would be extremely lucky already).

“Tool? What tool? I-I don’t understand,” stuttered the boy, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down slowly as he tried to take all of the stuff in. “Change what? H-have you ever t-thought of h-how unsettling i-it is to s-suddenly s-see all t-this? N-nothing can ever p-prepare you for t-this.” Very much how lab experiments seem so easy on paper (in the manual) but once you really get your hands dirty, it’s like an entirely new world.

Still, when he felt Ellison touch his eyes, he found himself slowly opening them, just to take a peek. Call it curiosity, or maybe he just felt like Ellison won’t really get off his case unless he at least tries what the boy wants him to do, but he did. Gone are the blues and the blacks and hello psychedelic overload. “It’s like Alice in Wonderland gone wild,” was all that Jared could say. The sudden rush of colours was enough to shut the boy’s eyes once again, the sudden change actually causing him a bit of pain.

“Enough! Please!” It wasn’t every day that the boy raises his voice to his friends (he’s quite the pushover, they say), much less to an absolute stranger, but this is one of those rare cases. Ellison seems to be a little too wrapped around the concept of the change being a good thing, and while Jared thinks it might be fun for some, it’s just not all that amazing for him. “I-I don’t like it. It’s freaky, and too bright and just too weird. S-sorry,” he began, trying his best not to sound offensive or rude. “H-have you ever considered slowing down a bit? I…just can’t do it.” He doesn’t know where Ellison gets the idea that he’d enjoy it – maybe from his rather flamboyant attire, but who knows – but he’s certainly not fond of it at the moment. “C-can you bring things b-back to normal? And, uh, m-maybe we can s-start over?”

He’d rather be hit by twenty snowballs in rapid succession than have his retinas burn with the sudden rush of colours really.

ooc:
GAWD. Crappy and extremely late. Sorry 'bout that Dylan. T_T.
- Jam

[Ellison Eisenstein]

Jared was a nice guy, and even though he was still terrified beyond consultation, Ellison still liked him. He respected him, Jared was one of the first people he even spoke with, or trusted to show his power towards. But the more Ellison forced the cascading kaleidoscope onto Jared, the more he realized where his prioritizes were, why showing this to Jared was so important. It wasn't really for Jared, but for himself.

The fear of ability. The worry of going too far, of loosing control and hurting someone on accident. Ever since his abilities manifested through quiet nights in his mind, his school became a crowded world surrounding Ellison, whilst himself trapped in an equally encompassing bubble of isolation. A stranger in a crowd of friends, unable to vocalize his abilities enough not to ostracize himself further from the friend he once was to them. It was still too early to transfer the power, the world waxed and waned only for his eyes, and whilst the first days were dazzling trips through the sensory nerves, it soon became obvious, and in such a somber way, that no one else could or would accept his personal revelations.

Defaults, he would call them, clenching his fists in personal frustration. If they would only try and imagine the world without its default sights, sounds, and tastes, then maybe a connection could be made. Ellison could never accept this now glaring status quo of perception, and if just one other person could realize the same, then he wouldn't be alone in this crowded world of simple-sighted ignorance.

But standing in fiery-crimson snow with viridian green clouds overhead, Ellison could convince Jared no longer. One-by-one, the presets returned to Jared. His eyes, hears, and all other senses returned to their defaults, and Ellison too. Jared would never know just how mocking the white of snow was to Ellison, or how cruel the normality of the world could be.

“It's done, it's all over, back to normal." The word normal stung his lips worse than any freezing effect. "I'm sorry, Jared. It's all normal again. Sorry if it wasn't what you wanted. I guess it wasn't what I wanted either. Thanks for throwing a snowball at me. Maybe next time, I'll do the same. That, and nothing else.” A meager smile covered up the melancholy realizations in his mind, the acceptance of an ever-present danger that his power possessed, no medium for anyone. Alone with a weapon, only useful as a weapon.

Ellison waited for a moment, trying to formulate a real apology, something that could console the damage done. But the truth he found kept banging in his cranium, the danger that was himself. It made himself feel sick and frightened. While Jared was still shielding his eyes, Ellison took off, running onto the empty soccer field. The white of snow seemed to stretch out forever.

When Ellison was young, first experiencing the powers manifesting themselves, he would talk about how music would the notes of music would follow him, much to the perplexing response of his teachers. Vivaldi's Seasons, winter in-particular, would play out from a CD, but to his ears create itself only for him, as an audiovisual display. It always followed him, and long after the music stopped he could hear the echoes linger for hours at a time. It was back when he couldn't understand how to tone down or tune out the powers manifestations. Now, isolated in the ridicule of snow's white, the powers that seemed to trump his person-hood in identity, following him full-circle back to isolation once again.

OOC: Please forgive my terrible lateness!

[Jared Park]

Jared’s panic didn’t subside immediately when Ellison told him that everything’s back to normal. For a good minute or two, tears still flowed down from his tightly sealed eyes, the boy still on the ground with his hands over his face. His breathing was still rather rapid, and his heart still racing. It’s the first time he’s ever been in a stressful situation such as that; everything had just been too much for him that he needed a bit of time to recover, to relax.

Once those precious minutes have passed however, he forced himself to stop sobbing and slowly opened his eyes. He can’t stay curled up in a ball forever after all. And besides, staying as he is would probably just upset Ellison even more. He might be a little dense when it comes to most things, but sadness and disappointment the Asian kid’s rather attuned to. Odd as it might be, the Canadian teen actually felt like he let Ellison down. Maybe he should’ve been braver. Should’ve been more adventurous. Maybe he should’ve really given those blaring colours another chance.

“I-I’m sorry Ellison,” Jared said simply, standing up and walking towards the boy, “M-maybe next time we can t-try it again?” It still feels so uncomfortable saying that, but somehow, he feels like he owes the boy at least a second chance. But at least not right now. Or within the next few days. “I’m sorry. I’m a little slow. And I panic a lot. M-maybe you can explain to me how everything would be so I can prepare myself a bit before we do it?” Some mental conditioning never hurt anyone, right? He casually slung his arm over the boy’s shoulder and grinned, “But for now, maybe some hot chocolate first? It always cheers me up, especially if it’s with those humongous marshmallows.” Which he believes he has some stored in the mini-fridge in his room.

ooc:
I'm late tooo so I think I should be the one apologizing actually. T___T.
- Jam

[Ellison Eisenstein]

“I assumed you would just run away. I mean now, before I assumed you were going to enjoy the change. So, thanks?” In the bitter cold his attempt at tension relief was poor, and left a chilling self-resentment. For Ellison the rejection was still sinking in, and he was still trying to regain focus. But Jared was kind nonetheless. Ellison could smile at that. His pursed lips endured the wind chill and the chill in his self-confidence.

“I'm sorry. Running away wasn't much of an apology, but it works for me. I run away from a lot of unhappy endings, from bad decisions. Your experiment, well... my experiment, was a running-away from a unsolved dilemma. It's not very often they track me down, let alone with open arms. I'm trying to say thank you, so... thank you?” Almost made himself laugh, if it wasn't so depressing to himself. But he could forget about these problems, for the moment. The promise of humongous marshmallows was forming, like a vision of things to come, and the tastiest destiny Ellison could ever think to accept.

"I'd love to go, get out of the cold. Maybe now we can talk. But next time, the snowball will be headed towards you. And it won't be a purple or a polka-dot snowball either, I promise!"