Time Warp: A Coping Mechanism (Open)

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January 2012

Oriel stared at the ceiling of his room. Then down to the digital clock beside his bed. 5:30. AM. Fucking. Hell.

He'd almost made it. After a couple of hours of rolling around, Oriel finally nodded off and managed to stay that way for a couple more hours. Until his subconscious decided to mercilessly rip his fucking heart out and pump his lungs full of chlorine. The way they burned with every rapid breath must mean they were melting, right? He wiped the dampness from his eyes with the back of his hand. His hair was sticky and clumping with sweat. He felt gross.

Oriel forced himself out of the bed and slipped on a thin white tank. It went well with his red pajama bottoms, he supposed. He didn't care that it was winter, though, and that it was several degrees below freezing outside. He wasn't going that way anyway.

On his way out, Oriel grabbed his pack of cigarettes and lighter from inside the desk. On his way downstairs, Oriel pulled one out and twirled it in his fingers nervously. By the time he got to the couch in the first floor commons, the stick was already burning and Oriel was pulling in a deep breath of blessed nicotine.

Oriel didn't care if he got in trouble for this. He needed it. His heart was still thrumming and threatening to burst out of his chest. It was too cold to go outside, and his room was the last place he wanted to be right now. At least he was courteous enough to get a small water cup to put the ashes.

Oriel closed his eyes, his head held up by the fingers of his free hand.

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5:30AM. It was so early – at least to most. Others, however, were not good at sticking to what was labeled ‘a normal night’s rest’. Milan happened to be one of them. Being a recruiter didn’t necessarily mess with the possibility of adopting a normal scheme, but it did mingle enough with his social life for him to have no specific reason to fall in the same routines as everyone around him had. So, with only his dog to leave alone at home, the man came in earlier than necessary to go through the file of a student he had to recruit later that day.

Often living at irregular hours, however, didn’t mean it made him any less tired at moments. Whenever Milan did struggle to stay awake, walking around often did the trick. It was no different today. And it was at that point that footsteps caught his ears. The next thing he knew, a student passed him by – Milan hidden away in the shadows – a cigarette in his hand.

With a deep frown appearing on his face, the recruiter hesitated for just a split second and then stepped out of the darkness. Despite the early time and a small lack of motivation, Milan knew students were not supposed to smoke within the buildings – or anyone else for that matter. The simple realization, in turn, was enough to stir his sense of responsibility, and so Oriel was soon going to be reminded of said rule.

Stepping around the couch, hands casually got tucked into the pockets of his jeans with blue eyes resting on the seated boy.

“You do know that cigarettes are killers travelling in pack, right?” His witty (in his opinion) remark being his way to address Oriel. He wasn’t commanding him to put it out, simply because Milan opted to give the student the benefit of doubt, assuming he would do so the minute he realized he was caught.

In addition, the man hoped his ‘joking’ comment about the attached health issues would have an effect as well.

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Oriel’s head was swimming and he was lost, drowning in it all. Why couldn’t it all just shut the hell up for once? Why did he have to deal with all the fucked up shit his brain wanted to torture him with? He took a deep breath. Then another. The next one came with another hit of nicotine. Oriel held it in, then breathed out slowly, enjoying the tingling shooting throughout his tired body.

He didn’t notice that he was being watched. Or that the watcher had turned into a stalker. It wasn’t until the recruiter spoke that Oriel even knew that there was somebody else in the room.

Oriel jumped and turned to look up at the man, having been startled out of his thoughts. What did he just say? Something about the cigarette? Oriel let his face sour up as he looked down at the smoking stick in his hand, and then back up at the recruiter. As if to say ‘I don’t care’, Oriel took in another lungful and slowly breathed out the smoke towards the school official. He flicked the accumulated ashes into the water cup.

“Adults say that shit ‘bout a lot of things,” he replied, his youthful voice cracking only slightly. “Don’t seem to stop them none, ‘specially when it come to shit like booze and driving and a bunch of other shit that’ll kill you much faster than these little thingies will.” Oriel snorted and looked away, towards the television that he was considering turning on to drown out the noise of hypocrisy.

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The least that could be said was that Milan was not pleased with the student’s defying reaction. With his hand, he fanned away some of the smoke. As one who never touched those cancer sticks before, the smell was quite overwhelming, and he rather didn’t ruin his lungs passively. Therefore a small step was taken back, even though his goal was to get Oriel to put it out.

“Then take it from an adult who’s not subjected to any of those things, if your need to compare yourself to them is so strong.” The recruiter paused for a second, allowing eyes to scan the young boy. Even though his appearance might not tell him a lot, Oriel’s attitude did. He didn’t come across as the kind of guy who truly cared for others. “Besides, I assume you would be more concerned about your own health than about the health of others.”

With another small break, Milan dipped his head to the side. “And in case you do care about mine, could you please put out that cigarette?” Asking nicely might be more effective than forcing the teen to do so. If he kept up smoking, however, the institute official would have to take more serious steps. Unlike some he was quite patient, and gave others some time and chances to make up their mind.

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“I don’t,” he said sourly, taking in another breath. According to countless adults back home, Oriel was far more likely to get shot and die in a ditch somewhere or get tossed into the East River before a tiny little cigarette could do any significant damage. Oriel was inclined to agree with them. His health was the last thing on his mind. Right now, he just cared about….focusing on anything other than the reason why he was down there smoking in the first place.

Oriel let the cigarette rest between his lips and he stared straight ahead at the television, once again debating whether or not to turn this sucker on. Now if only this old guy would leave him alone.

No such luck. Oriel sighed as the old guy kept talking. Why couldn’t he just leave the kid alone? So he was smoking inside? Big fucking deal! Still….Oriel slid his eyes in the man’s direction and, keeping his gazed fixed, he plucked the half finished cancer stick from his mouth and dropped it in the cup of water. His lips quirked up into a nasty, crooked sneer. “Ask….and ye shall receive,” he said snidely.

Oriel wasn’t a hard person to figure out, but you’d be amazed at how many people neglected to ask him to do shit, all in favor of demanding it from the bratty kid. Or, as this guy started out, giving a series of useless passive aggressive hints that never actually spelled out what he wanted from the kid. Oriel didn’t respond to ‘hints’ and ‘subtlety’. If there was something you wanted from him, be fucking straight up about it. Oriel was fed up with trying to read between the lines to figure out what people want, and then being chided for not picking up on it to perfection. No more sugarcoating, no more abstract expectations. He hated it. Oriel slinked back into the couch and kicked his feet up into it. “Hmph…and now that my plans’ve been so coldly interrupted by Your Sire-ness, you now have the pleasure of entertaining me for the next…” What time was it? “Half-hour. Hour. Really, it depends on my mood at the time.” Basically, until Oriel wasn’t feeling like shit anymore.

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Well… That had been more simple than imagined. While Milan had adjusted to his position as a recruiter, it still felt weird communicating with students who had been brought to the institute by others. His connection with them felt a bit strained, yet that didn’t mean he would reside to avoidance. He considered this good practice, and even more so since he appeared to be rather flawless at approaching the difficult ones. In the end, those were the kids that made him feel the most accomplished. Therefore, when Oriel did put out the cigarette, his tension diminished some and his smile developed into a more genuine one. It even didn’t fade when the guy reacted relatively annoyed.

“Oh, no need to call me sire,” his decision to avoid the stern approach. “Milan will work.” Rolling his shoulders for a second, the man tucked hands in the pockets of his jeans and gazed down at the student. “What are you doing up anyway? Isn’t it a bit too early to roam the halls to begin with?” Not sure if Oriel would be comfortable with him taking a seat as well, he remained standing for now. Of course Milan had intruded on the guy, but he wasn’t going to push his luck.

“What’s your name?”

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There were few people in this school that Oriel actually trusted and all one of them were Old Man Campbell, aka Dr. James Campbell. What was he a doctor of again? It was funny that he actually liked the guy who stole him away from his home and dropped him in this hell of a place…but the old guy was the only adult he really got a chance to bond with thus far…not that Oriel was looking for adults to bond with, but…it’d be nice to not feel like he wasn’t an inconvenience just being at this school. That more than just that guy thought he deserved to be here. Oriel sure didn’t think so.

This guy hadn’t done much to set him apart from every other power-tripping adult he knew who first started by making demands and trying to be fucking clever before finally getting to the point. At least he got there a lot sooner than some other had. “Milan,” he repeated what he presumed to be the guy’s first name. “You ain’t gonna make call you something like Mr. Miles or nothing, right? Or Dr.? Or some other fucking titles you ain’t telling me about?” For all Oriel knew, this guy was really “Officer” Miles and was patrolling undercover, looking for punks to bust for smoking and drinking.

Hmph…looks like this guy picked up on Oriel’s style…but now he was getting annoying, firing off one invasive question after the other. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said simply. He left out the part about the nightmare and sudden anxiety. Wasn’t his business. And he couldn’t make it go away anyway. He snorted, pulling his hands to rest behind his head. “….Oriel,” he replied, staring at Señor Miles and giving him a good look up and down. “You going to sit, or just stand there like the Almighty High and Mighty.” Whatever that meant. Regardless, it made him nervous having people standing there, looking down on him like he was some lesser being.

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The hositility didn't seem to diminish at first, but Milan didn't take it personally. His memories of fellow students back when he was still at Hammel helped with that. It made sense that Oriel would be cautious, being at a place that wasn't home, surrounded by many different people. "While that does sound rather tempting, no. Milan will do. I very much prefer it really. No fancy titles for me." The smile that curled his lips was genuine, but at the same time careful as well, not wanting to provoke something in case it got misinterpreted.

Shifting his weight, the recruiter accepted the reason as a valid one. He often wandered about when he couldn't sleep. In his case, however, it was in the shadows where staff wouldn't spot him. "Sitting down sounds like a plan," Milan decided before taking a seat opposite of the student."So, any reason you couldn't sleep, Oriel?" Using his name was more personal, right? He didn't intend to be intrusive, but sitting down and keeping his mouth shut wasn't a good combination. It was the first question coming to is mind, genuinely wondering about it.

"Bad dreams?" He was guessing, and at the same time trying to figure out whether open or yes/no questions were more Oriel's thing. "Or maybe snoring roommates?"

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This guy was weird. Of course, Oriel didn’t let that show on his face, but he wasn’t sure what to make of this guy, Milan. He didn’t want to be called by any professional title? Was that because he didn’t have one, or because he was trying to be Oriel’s ‘friend’? Like those teachers who tried to be ‘cool’ and ‘hip’ by trying to be something that kids like Oriel could relate to.

They never did a good job at it. It came off as patronizing more than anything. Rather than trying to act like a kid and treating a kid like a kid, Oriel would prefer they just be an adult and treat him like an adult. Oriel wasn’t just some stupid kid who didn’t know any better. Oriel hadn’t considered himself a kid for a long time already. But adults…all they saw was a number, their age, and that alone determined how they should be treated. It was all utter bullshit and Oriel hated it.

Oriel watched the man as he sat suspiciously. Why was he hanging around? Or was he just annoyingly nosy? He scowled at the question. The question that was none of his fucking business. “”The lights of the alien spaceship kept me up and then little green men threatened to shove a probe up my ass.” Classy as always.

The guess, the correct guess at that, had Oriel scowling even more darkly. No, he wasn’t some sissy that would let something as stupid as a dream bother him. “Do I look like I’m 5?” Oriel scoffed, leaning back against the arm of the couch and picking up the remote to the television. They really did need some background noise. “Think I’m a little old for night terrors n shit.” As in, why the fuck would you assume that right off, pissant?

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Milan wouldn't treat him as a child, as long as that wasn't how Oriel would portray himself. By giving childish and sarcastic replies, however, he was slowly starting to fall in the same category as many other students. If he wanted to be treated as an adult, Oriel should converse as one. "Quite honestly, that does sound like a nightmare," the recruiter eventually decided even though the boy had just gone against his assumption. "And anyone can have those. I have them, Dr. Neville has them... No need to grow defensive over it."

In other words, Milan still stood by his guess, based on Oriel's reaction. He didn't word it like that though, pretty certain that starting a discussion wouldn't work out in his advantage. After his gaze had settled on the clock for a moment, it fell back to the remote in Oriel's hand. "Normally there's a crime show on at this hour. Number fourteen." His head nodded to the television, even though he wasn't sure the student liked that kind of entertainment. "I used to watch it a couple of years ago whenever I couldn't sleep."

Losing some of the tension as he sat on the couch, Milan slumped ever so lightly. "I guess that's why I always stay up late nowadays." A friendly smile curled his lips, hopeful that he wouldn't come of as a threat much longer. Nothing was wrong with admitting what bothered him, but Milan wasn't going to push his luck. He just hoped to offer the opportunity for Oriel to speak up without the hostility.

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Oriel scowled when the old guy continued on his nonsense of nightmares. He looked away, his face still grumptastic and with a slight color tainting his cheeks. “Ain’t defensive if there’s nothing t’defend against,” he grumbled. And why should Oriel care if Milan and that other guy had nightmares? Just because they had them and it bothered them didn’t mean it was the same for Oriel, nope. Not at all…

The boy definitely need a distraction. What cartoons were on at this time of night? he thought as he turned the device on to some boring news report. Cartoons were always mindless enough for him to enjoy. At least, he preferred them over something like this, ie. reality. But then the guy…Milan…made a suggestion for some crime show to change it to instead. Oriel gave him a disgusted glare. “Why the fuck would I want to watch that?” he asked slowly. Crime shows? Like, that CSI and Law and Order shit?

And why was this guy still talking? Oh, right. Oriel told him to keep him company since he couldn’t smoke the cigarette. Damn, Oriel wanted one right now…

“Hmmm….’cause you were staying up watching TV? Past your bedtime? Heh, and people call me the kid.” That last part was mumbled, though Milan could probably hear it if he tried. Oriel shrugged. “Fine. Whatever.” He lifted the remote and switched it to channel fourteen. Oriel stared at the screen, silently hating on the so-called ‘drama’ of cops. Oh, they had it so hard. “The fuck’s this about anyways?”

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Milan shrugged. No need to grow defensive, right? Oriel probably didn't realize that his reply was just that: a defense mechanism. The recruiter saw no good in pointing that out. Instead he let the student soak in his own childish attitude. He saw truth in Oriel's statement about '... and people call me the kid'. "People label on how they perceive you," the Irish man decided. At this moment, the student was effortlessly placing himself in that category by his behavior.

As for him switching to the program Milan mentioned: it was no obligation. "You can watch whatever you want, you know. It was merely a suggestion. But to answer you question anyway, it's about solving murders." There was a chance the institute official had already seen whichever episode would be on right now, and it wasn't as if he was set on watching it right now. He just wanted to be helpful and establish a friendlier and less tense reaction from the student.

"So, how many times before did a dorm monitor find you here?" Milan began to assume it wasn't the first time Oriel came here. And students tended to be proud about breaking rules, right? Perhaps talking about 'his bad side' would be a better way to go. Plus, the man had mentioned it having been one of his habits as well, so perhaps that made him less of a threat when it came to conversing about this topic.

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“People perceive you offa shit that don’t matter,” he countered with an indignant grunt. “I could be the most well-behaved, goody-two-shoes, piece of schmoozer you can find, and people’ll still treat me like a kid.” As in, like they had the right to tell him what to do, how to live, where to go for every day, minute, and second of his life. Even though Oriel had probably seen realities that most adults were only aware of through stupid TV dramas like this one. As long as he was legally considered a kid, people wouldn’t give a shit about his opinion. They didn’t listen. At least, that was Oriel’s experience.

Oriel sent Milan a glare that said then why the fuck did you suggest it? He just wasted time changing the channel for nothing, is that what he was saying?? Oriel made a face and glared back at the television. “I’s just tryin’ to be considerate or something, maybe a ‘thanks’ is more in order than….whatever the fuck you were trying to do,” he grumbled. Fuck it all, Oriel wasn’t going to change it simply out of spite now.

“Enough,” he replied, watching the screen blankly. Stupid…what were they even doing? Chasing down some street kid, trying to get information from him or something. Of course the kid wasn’t going to give it up. At least, not without getting something in return. It reminded him of home…..he knew kids like that…he was a kid like that….fuck this shit.

Oriel clicked the screen off and tossed it to the table. “I don’t wanna watch nothing no more,” he grumbled and flopped away from Milan across the couch. He hugged close the throw pillow that was set against the arm of the couch.

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"Well, then... I could be the most low-paid employee in the world, in anything but an authority position, and you would still treat me like someone who would judge you and who would treat you as a kid." Milan shot back, simply in an attempt to get his point across. They were in the same boat it seemed. And while the recruiter at least tried to treat Oriel fairly, he kept his narrow opinion and kept treating the man as if he wasn't making an effort. While obviously older than the student, Milan at least wasn't as old as some of the staff who could have come across him here. Milan liked to think that was a good thing, if only because his approach possibly varied than the one of the others.

It was slowly starting to become clear that Oriel was not warming up to him. If anything, the boy seemed to keep building up the wall. Letting his gaze drift to the screen, the recruiter slightly slumped deeper into the couch. "If you want me to leave, all you have to do is tell me." No subtle hints, right? Direct requests and information, just like Oriel expected it from him. Perhaps part of the man was convinced that the student wouldn't request that. If he was wrong, he would let Oriel be.

"Anyway, what's your ability? Anything cool?" While Milan had the tendency to catch up on student files, even from those who he had not recruited, but he still had quite some to go. Maybe he had already gotten to Oriel's, yet his name didn't ring a bell.

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Oriel didn’t like his smart-ass answer and sent him a glare of daggers for it. Yes, it was a point, but he hadn’t done much so far to prove that he wasn’t just another judgmental piece of authority looking to treat him like a kid….

Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but Oriel was 15 and stubborn and was never wrong. So of course he didn’t say anything back and merely clenched his jaw in irritation instead. If he was expecting an apology from Oriel…well, he wasn’t going to get it. Because of course the man was just going to demand it so he could throw it back in Oriel’s face and call him insincere. Right?

Oriel gripped the pillow tighter and buried his face into it. “I didn’t say that,” he grumbled, growing more and more frustrated. He took a long slow breath, working hard to calm those agitated nerves of his. “Look,” he started, turning his head to look over his shoulder. “I’m a fucking asshole, I got fucking problems, I know that, but I asked you to stay, remember?” More like demanded, but it was the same thing to Oriel. He turned back to his pillow. “If I wanted you to leave, I’d’ve told you to do it by now….” The guy didn’t even have to talk if he didn’t want to. Just….stay. Yeah, Oriel didn’t want to be alone if he didn’t have to.

Though honestly, Oriel didn’t mind the talking half as much as he seemed to. It gave him a decent distraction. And besides, he happened to like talking to people, even if he could only do it by being an asshole. “Ink,” he muttered. Oriel shook his head and finally shifted to face forward on the couch, slouching into it while still holding the pillow tight. “Ink manifest. I’s a kind of ink manipulation.” He slid his eyes to Milan, then away again. “You probably already knew that.” The guy worked at a meta-school, after all. He’s probably required to know that sort of thing.