welcome to the edge of nowhere (OPEN)

[Kenneth Terwood]

we fell in love,
but not in court!

Kenneth Terwood knew he should be in the counselor's office, working out his schedule for next year. He'd already spent hours in there yesterday, though, sorting out what his minor should be, since he needed one to be a junior, apparently. He'd picked Anatomy almost randomly, he thought, lighting up a cigarette as he leaned against the goalposts on the football field. He didn't know the first thing about human anatomy, but it seemed to fit well with his preferred pathway of kinesiology. Shoving his lighter into the back pocket of his destroyed jeans, he inhaled, letting the smoke waft over his head and float around in the summer breeze. Today was really a beautiful day, the kind of day his parents would tell him to go out and play sports in. Oh yes, he still needed to find some athletic field to excel in, beyond weight lifting. But nothing held his interest, since other people were extensively involved in sports. A conundrum if there ever was one.

Taking another drag of his cigarette and blowing out smoke lightly, Kenneth noticed that, a couple yards away from him, on the cement walkways and through the fields, tours were pouring through the high school. Shit. He thought he could spend most of the afternoon in relative peace, since it was summer. Not a whole lot of students attended the summer classes, and he couldn't stay home and smoke, since Rita would get on him for it. Kenneth just didn't want to deal with anyone today, and that tour guide would definitely get on his case. Not only was he smoking on campus, he was Kenneth Terwood, that guy everyone publicly hated, even if they privately adored him. He glanced over in the direction of the tour group and wandered, quickly, away from the football field, letting the cigarette dangle from his mouth. Kenneth slid onto the cement walkway, behind the massive tour group, where the incoming freshman class oohed and aahed at Pallet High's extensive amenities and facilities.

Kenneth, interested in not getting caught smoking on campus, ducked into an alcove of a nearby building. He used this spot a lot, even though it was plainly visible if you passed by it, because no one bothered to look at the building most of the time. It was a locker room, and tours didn't go into locker rooms. He took a drag of the cigarette and watched the retreating backs of the potential Pallet recruits. So he was safe. For now. Eventually he'd have to go see the counselor again. Life would be so much easier if everyone just left him alone for a little bit.

words: 444
lyrics: Americano/Lady Gaga
image: berebeth's own image

[Nick Alaric]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; background-image: url(http://www.commentnation.com/hotlinks/argyle_pattern_background_yellow_seamless.gif), btable][cs=5][atrb=style, width:100px; height: 100px]	Words: 603 Tags: Kenneth Lyrics: Redemption - Gackt Notes: ----	[atrb=style, width: 15px]
[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: FFF205]	[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: 000000]	[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: c627ff]	[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: A7F2EB]	[atrb=style, width: 65px]	[atrb=style, height: 340px; background-color: FFF205; border: 4px dotted #000000; opacity: 0.59] What was he doing here? He didn't even like sports. Despite all that, Nick found himself striding along the cement sidewalk, walking with such a swagger, one would think he had just won an all-expense-paid, lifelong trip to Japan. Sadly, that hadn't happened, but he still had his walk. It was effeminate, but in full honesty, he really couldn't care less about what someone else thought. He was him, no one else, and no one's damn opinion was going to change that. But that still didn't answer his question. Why was he at the athletic field? As a senior, he was sort of obligated to help with the tours of the campus. but he had done that pretty much all day. And he was sick of hearing whiny freshman talk about whatever crap they talked about. Freshman suck. He hated freshman. They were pathetic little people who were always shorter than him. Then again, who wasn't? He was 6' 3" for Christ's sake. He could play basketball and be awesome. Actually, he could play just about any sport and probably be awesome. But that was beside the point. It was sunny out, no surprise. After all, they were in Colorado. Nonetheless, he still wore his creme colored cardigan with a simple, thin sleeveless shirt beneath it. His skinny jeans were carefully tucked into his boots, and one would think that he were dressed for a colder state. But all in all, Nick was perfectly fine temperature-wise. He walked along the sidewalk that ran alongside the wall of the building, his left hand casually brushing against the rough surface. He hummed a song he knew by heart to himself which eventually turned into him mouthing the words as he walked to the beat of the song in his head. His hand dropped to his side as the wall cut off abruptly to create a small alcove with a pair of doors that led somewhere - Nick didn't particularly care to think about where at the time. He shrugged before lifting his hand to the wall again when the alcove ended. He inhaled, meaning to actually sing the words aloud but stopped dead in his tracks as something toxic invaded his lungs. What. Was. That. He took in another breath before coughing slightly. Who the hell was smoking on campus? He would wring their guts out. No doubt his chance of becoming a singer had just gone down by a few percentages, and he was not happy about that. At that moment in time, Nick had two choices presented to him. He could either continue on his merry way and find cleaner air, or he could turn around and give this smoker a piece of his mind. He rather liked the latter of the two choices. So he backtracked. As he reached the alcove again, he gracefully stepped around the corner, leaning his back against the wall. He stood opposite of the smoker, an unamused expression on his face. He knew that these types of people existed in some god-awful place on earth, but what was one doing here at Pallet High? "Looks like someone's gonna die of lung cancer. Thanks for spreading it," he said, the tone in his voice similar to that of a gay guy. But Nick most certainly wasn't gay. Then, before the other student could reply, he slipped out of the alcove just as fluidly as he had entered. However, not long after making his exit, he peeked around the corner once more. "And just so you know, smoking does not make you look cool. Not in the slightest."
[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: FFF205]	[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: 000000]	[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: c627ff]	[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: A7F2EB]		Letting my broken wings flap I'll show them everything disappearing One day, I'll meet my end Up until the final bell stops tolling

[Kenneth Terwood]

we fell in love,
but not in court!

Kenneth figured that, at the very least, someone from the tour would come to irritate him about his chosen pastime, whether it be smoking or sneaking around near the locker rooms. People should just leave him alone, he reasoned, leaning against the alcove. He heard footsteps coming towards him and sighed. Well, he had one of two choices. He could run, and likely get caught, sent to his counselor, and get in more trouble than this was work. On the other hand, he could stay put, and risk offending whoever came calling, but otherwise not suffer any ill consequences. He was Kenneth Terwood, after all. Did anyone think they could curb his behavior? Tugging at his gray beanie, he took a drag of his cigarette just as a person rounded the corner to stare at him.

The person, an officious-looking Asian boy with a cutting glare and an impeccably assembled outfit that wouldn't be out of place in a snowstorm but didn't make much sense in the Colorado sunshine, leaned against the opposite wall. His stare made it clear that he didn't appreciate Kenneth's smoking, or his banged-up jeans and ratty black wifebeater, or his presence in general.

"Looks like someone's gonna die of lung cancer. Thanks for spreading it."

"Anytime," Kenneth called at the boy's retreating back. Kenneth wasn't worked up about the insult. In all honesty, it was one of the more clever retorts he heard, and much better than the usual 'you're gonna kiiiill yourself, mmmkay?' that he usually got. Points for sliding out easily as well. Kenneth chortled to himself, moving to take another drag, when the boy came back, popping his head in to inform Kenneth that smoking didn't make him look cool at all.

"Seems to make me look cool to some," Kenneth responded blankly, letting the cigarette dangle from his lips. "What's it to you anyway?" Kenneth usually didn't expend so many words on anyone, but he kind of wanted to know why this kid cared so much about his smoking and not... everything else about him. Usually, first words exchanged involved some sort of dumb child abuse joke, something about his hair, the state of his jeans, or his sister. Smoking came up relatively infrequently. Terrence stared at the Asian boy, hoping he wouldn't slink away again.

words: 388
lyrics: Americano/Lady Gaga
image: berebeth's own image

[Nick Alaric]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; background-image: url(http://www.commentnation.com/hotlinks/argyle_pattern_background_yellow_seamless.gif), btable][cs=5][atrb=style, width:100px; height: 100px]	Words: 404 Tags: Kenneth Lyrics: Redemption - Gackt Notes: ----	[atrb=style, width: 15px]
[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: FFF205]	[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: 000000]	[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: c627ff]	[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: A7F2EB]	[atrb=style, width: 65px]	[atrb=style, height: 340px; background-color: FFF205; border: 4px dotted #000000; opacity: 0.59] Nick raised an eyebrow at the smoker. There was no doubt that the guy had a point. What was it to him anyway? He thought for a moment. Kudos for prolonging him further. Ah well. Not like he had anywhere he needed to be at the moment. So, he joined the other male in the alcove once more despite his better judgment. He made a mental note that the other guy was relatively tall, just like himself. Wasn’t often that he saw that. However, he didn’t stay confined in the alcove for much longer. As he breathed in again, the scent of the cigarette burned his nostrils and he promptly walked out to the grass, a good five feet or so away from the other guy. He’d stay and talk, just not where he had to breathe in that toxin. “I think it’s kind of ridik that you’re carrying cancer-in-a-stick around with you,” he said, ignoring the fact that he had rhymed. “But I’m not going to lecture you, if that’s what you’re thinking because, honestly, I could care less about how you kill yourself just as long as you don’t take me with you,” he added, his neutral expression unfaltering. Yup, he was a vain bastard. But oh well. ‘Screw the world’ he always said. He stood on the grass, weight on his back leg, arms crossed, hip cocked, and sassiness fully ready if need be. At least the air wasn’t as tainted here. The smoke from the cigarette had enough time to dissipate into the air around as opposed to wreaking havoc on his lungs. He’d go on about how much he despised cigarettes, but what good would that do? After all, he wasn’t this guy’s health teacher nor was he this guy’s counselor or whatnot. In the same way Nick enjoyed his own freedom, he’d allow the other guy to enjoy his too. “But I’d suggest not smoking in such an open place. The smoke travels too well,” he commented, wondering why exactly he was still here. Ah well. At least this guy didn’t whine about every little thing that was going on. That was probably the one thing he hated most about little kids. He hated it more when the kids were only a few years younger than himself. They never grew up.
[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: FFF205]	[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: 000000]	[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: c627ff]	[atrb=style, width: 3px; background-color: A7F2EB]		Letting my broken wings flap I'll show them everything disappearing One day, I'll meet my end Up until the final bell stops tolling