Spikey-Eared Pichu
Pichu-pi!
- 1,016
- Posts
- 15
- Years
- My house
- Seen Feb 11, 2012
Oliver looked up from his sobbing; actually he'd stopped and was just curled up in that alcove because he was tired. When he heard Ian apologize and create the rose, Oliver stood, eyes pink from tears and his cheeks stained from tears as well, "Look," his voice was a little shakey, "I understand if you don't want to come out to me. But," he took the rose gently from Ian and inspected the petals, "believe me, when I tell you that bottling it up and denying it hurts so much worse..."
He pulled up the sleeve of his right arm, revealing pale, almost rose pink cut marks up and down his forearms, "This, is what happens when you try and bottle it up." He looked at a clock which was hanging in the hall, "Just...take what I said into consideration..." He walked off, well actually, he ran at full speed. He wanted to get away from Ian.
He rushed down random corridors and stairs until he found a bathroom. He ran in and locked himself in a stall, the ice rose still in his hand. He was a whirling mash of depression and angst. He needed release. He looked at the rose. The stem ended in a jagged edge. He held it to his left forearm, hand shaking, heart racing. He whimpered slightly as the ice made a cut. It drew blood. Oliver looked at the ice rose and saw a thin line of his blood travel through the inside of the flower and spread out into the petals and leaves.
He pulled up the sleeve of his right arm, revealing pale, almost rose pink cut marks up and down his forearms, "This, is what happens when you try and bottle it up." He looked at a clock which was hanging in the hall, "Just...take what I said into consideration..." He walked off, well actually, he ran at full speed. He wanted to get away from Ian.
He rushed down random corridors and stairs until he found a bathroom. He ran in and locked himself in a stall, the ice rose still in his hand. He was a whirling mash of depression and angst. He needed release. He looked at the rose. The stem ended in a jagged edge. He held it to his left forearm, hand shaking, heart racing. He whimpered slightly as the ice made a cut. It drew blood. Oliver looked at the ice rose and saw a thin line of his blood travel through the inside of the flower and spread out into the petals and leaves.