At-At-Atta Boy! {Open}

[Atticus Sanford]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; height: 550px; border: 10px solid #66654a; background: #fdf701; color: d4cf00; vertical-align: top; text-align: justify; font-family: Georgia; letter-spacing: -2px; padding: 5px; line-height: 15px; font-weight: bolder; ] Eyes are feeling heavy but they never seem to close. The fan blades on the ceiling spin but the air is never cold. And even though you are next to me I still feel so alone. I just can't give you anything for you to call your own. And I can feel you breathing. And it's keeping me awake. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. Something I've been keeping locked away behind my lips. I can feel it breaking free with each and every kiss. I couldn't bear to hurt you but it's all so different now. Things that I was sure of, they have filled me up with doubt. And I can feel you breathing. And it's keeping me awake. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. I can feel you breathing. It's keeping me awake. Could you stop my heart? It's always beating. Sinking like a weight. How am I supposed to feel about the things I've done? I don't know if I should stay or turn around and run. I know that I hurt you, things will never be the same. The only love I ever knew, I threw it all away. And I can feel you breathing. And it's keeping me awake. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. I can feel you breathing. It's keeping me awake. Could you stop my heart? It's always beating. Sinking like a weight. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. I can feel you breathing. It's keeping me awake. Could you stop my heart? It's always beating. Sinking like a weight. Breathing by Yellowcard

[atrb=style, opacity: 0.8][style=border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 5px; background: #ffffff; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left][/style][style=border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 5px; background: #ffffff; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left][/style][style=border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 5px; background: #ffffff; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left][/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 360px; margin-top: -500px; z-index: 1; position: relative, bTable][atrb=style,border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 10px; opacity: 0.6; background: #ffffff; ][style=font-family: Helvetica; color: #5e5858; height: 300px;overflow: -moz-scrollbars-vertical;overflow-y: auto; padding-right: 10px; font-family: Helvetica; word-spacing: 1px; line-height: 15px; text-align: justify; ]"Have you got everything packed, Atty?" his mom called from downstairs. "Not quite, Mom!" he yelled back, neatly stuffing a folded shirt into his suitcase. "Atticus! You've been packing for two hours! What are you bringing?!" "Just a couple more things!" Atticus snatched a carefully hidden box from a tricky drawer at his bedside. He moved to tuck it away beneath his multitude of scarves, planning to take extra caution in hiding it away from the world. However, before he had completely stashed away his mysterious box, two younger kinds burst into his room and jumped him. With a startled cry, his grip tightened on the box, and he hastily stuffed it under his thin T-shirt. "What's that, Atty?" his younger brother asked, draping himself over his brother's back. His arms hung down over Atticus's shoulders. "It's nothing, Faron," Atticus lied, straightening his back to lift Faron's grabbing hands away from his box. "Then why can't I see it?" Faron whined. Mary, the youngest sibling, wrapped her small arms around Faron's stomach and made an attempt to pull the young boy from Atticus's back. In turn, Faron clung to his older brother's shoulders, refusing to let go. "Faron, let go! You're hurting him!" Mary cried. She dug her feet into the carpet and pulled again. This pulled Atticus off balance and the trio ended up in a pile with Atticus lying on top of his siblings. He sighed, resting his hand over the box that was still under his shirt. As footsteps climbed the stairs, Atticus scrambled to his knees and messily shoved the box beneath the mass of scarves he packed away earlier. Just as he drew his empty hands from his bag, his mom stepped into his doorway. Faron had hopped back onto his brother's back. "Mom, Atticus is hiding something from me!" Faron whined. "Oh don't be a bugger, Faron," Atticus began, "You're free to see my socks all you want," and he took a pair of said socks from his bag and pushed them in Faron's face. He spluttered and backed away. "Ew! Gross! They stink! You have stinky feet, Atty!" Atticus merely laughed. "So this is why you're taking so long," his mother smiled. "Okay, guys, let him finish. He has to be somewhere." "Where are you going, Atty?" Mary asked, looking at him with big eyes. "I'm going to be living at a dorm at the school," he said, tossing his socks back into his back and zipping it up. "You're going away?" "Just for the school year. I'll visit on the weekends and be here on the holidays." "But what if I want to see you after school?" "I'm not that far away, Mary." "Did you stay there last year?" "Yeah. Don't you remember?" Mary shook her head. Atticus kissed her forehead and picked up his back. "I'll be around. And if you really miss me, then you can call me on my cell phone." He tapped the end of her nose and smiled. "Well, let's go, Mom!" The drive wasn't all that long. "Mom, you're straying to the left again," Atticus pointed out. "Oh, thanks. Ah, America is so different yet similar to Britain," his mom sighed. Atticus shrugged. He loosened the scarf around his neck, staring out the window. "Do you know who your dorm partner will be this year?" "Nah. I'll find out when I get there." "I hope it's another nice boy. What was that other boy's name? Br... Brendan? Bradley?" "Brandon. His name was Brandon," he turned to look at his mom, suddenly serious. "Oh right, Brandon. He was so nice," his mother gushed. He looked back out the window, a knowing smile playing on his lips. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as memories played through his mind. He hoped that this year would be as... busy as his freshman year was. "---don't you think?" He jumped slightly as he realized that his mother was talking to him. "Sorry, what?" "Oh, I was just thinking how maybe this year you might see a cute girl. If you do, don't be afraid to invite her over for dinner. We'd love to meet her." "Ah... yeah," he breathed, mentally scoffing in his mind. Should've seen that one coming... he thought to himself. With a wave, his mother drove off, leaving him standing at the entrance of Pallet High School. Of all the things Atticus could have been nervous about, he was worried about one thing and one thing only. His dorm partner. He hoped to god that his dorm partner wasn't a stick in the mud. His thoughts wandered back to the box he stashed away in his bag and a smirk played on his lips. How would Americans word it? He was... confident. Definitely confident that things would go his way. With a bounce in his step, he made his way to the main part of the courtyard of the school, opting to wait a bit before going to his dorm. TAGGED : Open WORD COUNT : 835 NOTES : Oh, Atty... tsk, tsk, tsk CREDITS: TEMPLATE by JAWN of AA, OTE, DMB and TC[/style]

[Bartholomew B. Sauer]

Bartholomew lay across his bed, scribbling away at his horticulture essay, which addressed the eight areas that Horticulture encompassed under its title, according to experts (as well as the textbook Bart and his peers were studying from). There were focuses on all kinds of things but they were a bit hard to remember. There was a study of fruit, fruticulture, and there was also a specific study of grapes and turning them into wine. Bartholomew’s current interest was in floriculture, which dealt with the production of plants that produced flowers, or the kind of plants you might buy if you went to, say, Home Depot. However, he had to write at least a paragraph or two over each focus, and so he was currently writing away on the least interesting part: postharvest physiology. Even the name just made him want to yawn. But he should at least give each focus his attention, so he tried. But the next time Bartholomew finished a sentence, he realized that he had already written the exact same sentence a few lines earlier.

He needed a break.

He got up from his bed, and stretched. No. That wasn’t going to be enough. He grabbed his gray hoodie and pulled it over his head as he walked out of the door. The weather wasn’t freezing, but it wasn’t exactly the right weather for a t-shirt. As he stepped outside, he took in a deep breath and felt better. Now would be a good time for a walk. It was early in the afternoon, and he’d been working all morning. He walked away from the dorms and toward the courtyard. He wasn’t sure where he was going, and he just ended up meandering along, hands in his pockets as he looked up at the scene around him. As he was looking around, he noticed his friend Atticus walking through the courtyard, with a suitcase in one hand. He smiled, happy to recognize a friend.

“Hey, Atticus!” Bartholomew pulled a hand out of his pocket and waved, smiling as he approached his British friend. “You finally back? School started awhile ago, you know,” He teased a bit, enjoying the feeling of someone he could joke around with a little.



Summary:

[/i] Bartholomew is working on a horticulture paper (so responsible), but realizes he needs a break since he's been working all morning. He heads outside and walks around just to rejuvenate a little and spies his friend Atticus, and walks over to say hi.
Comments:[/i] Yay~ <3
[/blockquote]

[Atticus Sanford]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; height: 550px; border: 10px solid #66654a; background: #fdf701; color: d4cf00; vertical-align: top; text-align: justify; font-family: Georgia; letter-spacing: -2px; padding: 5px; line-height: 15px; font-weight: bolder; ] Eyes are feeling heavy but they never seem to close. The fan blades on the ceiling spin but the air is never cold. And even though you are next to me I still feel so alone. I just can't give you anything for you to call your own. And I can feel you breathing. And it's keeping me awake. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. Something I've been keeping locked away behind my lips. I can feel it breaking free with each and every kiss. I couldn't bear to hurt you but it's all so different now. Things that I was sure of, they have filled me up with doubt. And I can feel you breathing. And it's keeping me awake. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. I can feel you breathing. It's keeping me awake. Could you stop my heart? It's always beating. Sinking like a weight. How am I supposed to feel about the things I've done? I don't know if I should stay or turn around and run. I know that I hurt you, things will never be the same. The only love I ever knew, I threw it all away. And I can feel you breathing. And it's keeping me awake. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. I can feel you breathing. It's keeping me awake. Could you stop my heart? It's always beating. Sinking like a weight. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. I can feel you breathing. It's keeping me awake. Could you stop my heart? It's always beating. Sinking like a weight. Breathing by Yellowcard

[atrb=style, opacity: 0.8][style=border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 5px; background: #ffffff; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left][/style][style=border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 5px; background: #ffffff; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left][/style][style=border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 5px; background: #ffffff; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left][/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 360px; margin-top: -500px; z-index: 1; position: relative, bTable][atrb=style,border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 10px; opacity: 0.6; background: #ffffff; ][style=font-family: Helvetica; color: #5e5858; height: 300px;overflow: -moz-scrollbars-vertical;overflow-y: auto; padding-right: 10px; font-family: Helvetica; word-spacing: 1px; line-height: 15px; text-align: justify; ]The school still looked the same. There weren't very many people out and about, and Atticus figured that they were in class. What a shame. Ah well. He had a rough idea of most of the people at the school save for the new freshmen. To say he was interested would be an understatement. Nonetheless, he proceeded to sit on his suitcase (It's one of those rolling, rectangle ones), contemplating his next move. It wasn't until his name was called out that he perked up. "Hey, Atticus!" a familiar voice called out. He turned to see a friend from the year before walking towards him. Bartholomew Sauer. He thought back to his freshman year. The two did spend some time together (innocent time, mind you) but never really were super close. But Atticus wasn't complaining. It was nice to see someone familiar. "You finally back? School started awhile ago, you know." "Ah, yeah," he put a hand to the back of his head, allowing a smile to take over his facial features. "I've been going to class, I swear. Just fell behind on the whole 'moving into the dorms' sort of thing, you know? But it's nice here. No blooming siblings to go through my stuff," he chuckled. He ran a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs from his face. "What about you, mate? How's stuff been for you?" He turned the conversation around. How odd. He didn't remember ever fancying Bartholomew in his freshman year. Maybe time had changed that. The more he looked at his peer's face, though, he found himself mentally shrugging. Well, he could certainly see how someone else may find the boy attractive, and it could work for him if it came down to it. But, he couldn't see himself with an old friend for more than a fling. Even then, that was pushing his unspoken rule of 'no hitting on close friends'. Oh well. A new thought hit him and he felt a need to voice it. "What dorm you in this year, mate? Got a dorm partner yet? Is it terribly crowded this year?" Hm, he didn't mean to ask that many questions. Well, he wanted to know. He figured that now he'd find out if he would have a dorm roommate or not. His fear of having a stick in the mud for a roommate came back with a vicious fury. Damn. TAGGED : Bartholomew WORD COUNT : 401 NOTES : British~! CREDITS: TEMPLATE by JAWN of AA, OTE, DMB and TC[/style]

[Bartholomew B. Sauer]

Bartholomew was happy to see that he was received with a smile by Atticus. They hadn’t been the closest of friends, but this was the closest to having a friend that wasn’t a study buddy for one of his classes. It was promising for Bart, who had been cautious about making friends since the whole Ashton mishap. He felt a twinge in his stomach that he still hadn’t heard what had happened to his friend. He had decided to run away, but no one had seen or heard from him since. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was somehow his fault...

He pushed aside these thoughts as Atticus smiled and explained that he had been going to school, he just hadn’t moved into his dorm yet. Bartholomew laughed when he said that siblings didn’t go through his stuff here. “That is nice, although my siblings wouldn’t do that, I don’t think. One of the advantages to being the baby of the family.” He shrugged as he laughed.

The conversation then turned to Bartholomew. “Me?” He confirmed, and put a finger to his chin, considering. “Well, it’s been pretty good for me. Classes are interesting, and all this stuff around school has been... interesting, I guess you could say. Did you go to the Halloween dance?” Bartholomew shook his head as he remembered that fiasco. At least he had been with Kit for the whole thing. He bit his lip at that thought, trying to disguise a slight smile. He moved on as Att asked him about the dorms.

“I’m in 1a. I don’t have a room mate yet this year, though there’s always people switching around moving in. It’s kind of nice, but it’s... a bit quiet sometimes.” Sometimes Bartholomew had been sad to come home to an empty dorm room other than his straight and neat belongings sitting on the dresser and his desk. It wasn’t that bad though, and he was grateful he didn’t have a room mate bothering him while he worked, or telling him that he worked too much, or (God forbid) bringing girls into their room. Yes, he was grateful he didn’t have to deal with any of that.

“I don’t think it’s too crowded right now. I haven’t seen too many people,” Bartholomew paused to consider this point -- granted he usually didn’t go too far out of his dorm room than was necessary -- and then he remembered that he had looked at the dorm assignments earlier that week. “I may have seen your name on the dorm list. I think you’re on the first floor, same as me. Not in my room, though. You heading that way?” Bartholomew asked, ready to accompany him if he needed to.



Summary:

[/i] Bart talks to Atticus. Will elaborate later, if need be. xP
Comments:[/i] Yay~ <3
[/blockquote]

[Atticus Sanford]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; height: 550px; border: 10px solid #66654a; background: #fdf701; color: d4cf00; vertical-align: top; text-align: justify; font-family: Georgia; letter-spacing: -2px; padding: 5px; line-height: 15px; font-weight: bolder; ] Eyes are feeling heavy but they never seem to close. The fan blades on the ceiling spin but the air is never cold. And even though you are next to me I still feel so alone. I just can't give you anything for you to call your own. And I can feel you breathing. And it's keeping me awake. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. Something I've been keeping locked away behind my lips. I can feel it breaking free with each and every kiss. I couldn't bear to hurt you but it's all so different now. Things that I was sure of, they have filled me up with doubt. And I can feel you breathing. And it's keeping me awake. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. I can feel you breathing. It's keeping me awake. Could you stop my heart? It's always beating. Sinking like a weight. How am I supposed to feel about the things I've done? I don't know if I should stay or turn around and run. I know that I hurt you, things will never be the same. The only love I ever knew, I threw it all away. And I can feel you breathing. And it's keeping me awake. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. I can feel you breathing. It's keeping me awake. Could you stop my heart? It's always beating. Sinking like a weight. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. I can feel you breathing. It's keeping me awake. Could you stop my heart? It's always beating. Sinking like a weight. Breathing by Yellowcard

[atrb=style, opacity: 0.8][style=border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 5px; background: #ffffff; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left][/style][style=border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 5px; background: #ffffff; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left][/style][style=border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 5px; background: #ffffff; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left][/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 360px; margin-top: -500px; z-index: 1; position: relative, bTable][atrb=style,border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 10px; opacity: 0.6; background: #ffffff; ][style=font-family: Helvetica; color: #5e5858; height: 300px;overflow: -moz-scrollbars-vertical;overflow-y: auto; padding-right: 10px; font-family: Helvetica; word-spacing: 1px; line-height: 15px; text-align: justify; ]"Lucky bugger," Atticus chuckled, responding to Bart's comment about being the baby of the family. He couldn't imagine his siblings being older than him. He was far too used to their constant wrestling and digging through his stuff to imagine them being older. He was top dog at the house when it came to the kids. He rather liked being in charge. Shifting slightly atop his suitcase, he adjusted his scarf again, this time tightening it ever so slightly. As the conversation moved onto talking about the recent dance, Atticus found himself shifting on his suitcase once more. Bart's smile didn't go completely unnoticed and it was at that point in time that Atticus decided to try and skim over the subject with as little focus on himself as possible. No, he wasn't worried about Bart finding out his secret and telling his family. He was just naturally worried when it came to someone possibly figuring him out. Sure, it wasn't the biggest secret he had, but it wasn't something he would just randomly talk about. Biting the inside of his lip, he strategically switched the focus back onto Bart. "Nah, didn't go. But I heard it was pretty hectic. Something about the lights going out and bad punch? You go with a gal?" he questioned with a light shrug, showing vague interest in the dance. As dorms came up, Atticus's nervousness dissipated and the tone in his voice became far more casual. "1A, huh?" and before he could stop himself, "I sure hope my dorm isn't above yours," had already spilled from his lips. He tightened his jaw, mentally slapping himself. Bloody brilliant, Atticus. You'd rather him not knowing your secrets and yet you let something as obvious as that slip past your guard. You're a blooming genius, he thought, barely managing to keep a straight face. You could have just as well told him all your various other habits while you're at it, he chastised. He opted to simply nod in interest as Bart continued. When he mentioned that the two were on the first floor, Atticus momentarily wondered if they were next door neighbors. If that was the case, there was definitely going to be some questioning at some point in the year... unless the walls were soundproof or he could magically make things quieter. No matter. He'd tackle the problem if/when it came. "First floor, that works. In fact, I was planning on heading that way. Do they have the assigned dorms listed there or am I going to have to go through the office again, this year?" And with that, he stood up, slipping the handle from its spot and tilting the suitcase on its wheels. "Well then. Lead the way, won't you?" TAGGED : Bartholomew WORD COUNT : 459 NOTES : You're free to have Bart walk somewhere and just assume Atticus is following him :3 CREDITS: TEMPLATE by JAWN of AA, OTE, DMB and TC[/style]

[Bartholomew B. Sauer]

Bartholomew smiled as he spoke to Atticus. It was so nice to have a basic conversation, especially one that wasn't about school work, at least not directly. Bartholomew didn't really talk to too many people, and so it was nice to have someone he could consider a friend, and not just an acquaintance.

"Yeah, the dance was pretty crazy. The lights went out near the beginning, and when they came back on, something was different. I didn't really know until later that the punch had been messed with. Spiked, I heard. Well, if that had happened in Indiana..." He shook his head as he trailed off. That wouldn't have happened in Indiana, but if it did, there would have been a fit. Pallet High, of course, had already gone around and apologized to everyone, and were still in search of who had spiked the punch. It didn't seem like they would get many leads, though.

Atticus' comment about him going with a girl seemed off-hand, like an afterthought. It still made Bartholomew blush a little, and he nodded. "Yeah, I did. A girl named Kit Felix. Now she is something. Beautiful, and smart." He coughed roughly, frustrated that he had revealed so much about what he thought of Kit. They weren't even dating. Not yet, anyway. Wait a minute, 'yet'? What was he thinking. He coughed again, realizing how ridiculous he must look.

"Um, anyway..." He reached for the next topic of conversation somewhat desperately, about the dorms. He looked at Atticus curiously when he said that he hoped his room wasn't above Bartholomew's. "Why, do you own a trampoline?" He asked, laughing quietly at his silly comment. It just seemed an odd thing to say when you were asking someone about the dorm situation.

"There's assigned dorms. I'll show you the list." Bartholomew looked sideways at him, curious by the sudden change in tone, but going along with it. It was Atticus' business, not his. He started walking. "Off we go, then." He chuckled quietly. Atticus sure seemed to be acting strangely.



Summary:

[/i] *will fill in later*
Comments:[/i] Yay~ <3
[/blockquote]

[Atticus Sanford]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; height: 550px; border: 10px solid #66654a; background: #fdf701; color: d4cf00; vertical-align: top; text-align: justify; font-family: Georgia; letter-spacing: -2px; padding: 5px; line-height: 15px; font-weight: bolder; ] Eyes are feeling heavy but they never seem to close. The fan blades on the ceiling spin but the air is never cold. And even though you are next to me I still feel so alone. I just can't give you anything for you to call your own. And I can feel you breathing. And it's keeping me awake. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. Something I've been keeping locked away behind my lips. I can feel it breaking free with each and every kiss. I couldn't bear to hurt you but it's all so different now. Things that I was sure of, they have filled me up with doubt. And I can feel you breathing. And it's keeping me awake. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. I can feel you breathing. It's keeping me awake. Could you stop my heart? It's always beating. Sinking like a weight. How am I supposed to feel about the things I've done? I don't know if I should stay or turn around and run. I know that I hurt you, things will never be the same. The only love I ever knew, I threw it all away. And I can feel you breathing. And it's keeping me awake. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. I can feel you breathing. It's keeping me awake. Could you stop my heart? It's always beating. Sinking like a weight. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. I can feel you breathing. It's keeping me awake. Could you stop my heart? It's always beating. Sinking like a weight. Breathing by Yellowcard

[atrb=style, opacity: 0.8][style=border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 5px; background: #ffffff; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left][/style][style=border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 5px; background: #ffffff; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left][/style][style=border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 5px; background: #ffffff; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left][/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 360px; margin-top: -500px; z-index: 1; position: relative, bTable][atrb=style,border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 10px; opacity: 0.6; background: #ffffff; ][style=font-family: Helvetica; color: #5e5858; height: 300px;overflow: -moz-scrollbars-vertical;overflow-y: auto; padding-right: 10px; font-family: Helvetica; word-spacing: 1px; line-height: 15px; text-align: justify; ]He followed after his peer, biting his lip and trying to think up an excuse that both wasn’t a complete lie but also wasn’t the whole truth. The information about the girl Bart had gone to the dance with fell on dead ears. “Ah, you know, uh,” he barely kept from clearing his throat as he thought. “I’d hate to… wake you up at night with one of my, uh, childish tantrums,” he made an attempt to hitch his shoulders up in a nonchalant shrug, but the motion was more stiff that he intended. “I have a habit of, uh… throwing things on the ground when I’m angry,” he said slowly, carefully picking each word. Atticus mentally sighed, knowing that this was rousing more suspicion than it was supposed to. “Any road,” he found himself reverting back to his usual British slang. “”So, anything else of interest happen here while I’ve been away at home? Or has Pallet High been pretty boring without it’s British boy wandering the grounds?” he joked, his tone taking on a much more relaxed sound about it. As the dorms came into view, Atticus found himself hiding his knowing grin again, eyes straying to the freshmen dorms. He began to wonder where Brandon was. In freshman year, the two were dorm mates, and Brandon had been… willing to try something different. From there, it sort of took off on its own. Albeit the two were never super close friends, rather merely dorm mates with benefits. But he certainly knew what he was doing. He pushed the thought from his mind. How rude of him, to think of someone else whilst with a friend. “Are the sophomore dorms the same as the freshmen ones, what with the bedside table?” It was an odd question indeed, then again, most of his questions were often odd. And pertained to very common things Americans were used to but British like him found strange. TAGGED : Bart WORD COUNT : 330 NOTES : Yay ffor some background information, even if it's totally irrelevant CREDITS: TEMPLATE by JAWN of AA, OTE, DMB and TC[/style]

[Bartholomew B. Sauer]

Bartholomew looked strangely at Atticus. He didn't think that he would have tantrums and throw things. The blonde didn't seem like the type that would do that. But if he said that he didn't, Bartholomew supposed that he couldn't argue with him. He shrugged and let the matter drop. It didn't seem worth discussing, and if Atticus said so, then Bartholomew would trust his word. That was what friends did, after all.

Bartholomew smiled at his friend's arrogance. At least it wasn't cruel. It was more like over confidence. It didn't stop him from rolling his eyes as he said, "Oh no, it's been terribly boring without the Brit."

He chuckled at the idea and shook his head. "But no, nothing else is really happening, to my knowledge. Just same old, same old," Bartholomew finished, looking thoughtful.

"Yes, they have a bedside table. Is that not common?" Bartholomew queried. Atticus was full of strange comments today. They were nearing the sophomore dorms now, and Bartholomew could see them up ahead.



Summary:

[/i] Bart says stuff. That's pretty much it. xP
Comments:[/i] Ho hum, late.
[/blockquote]

[Atticus Sanford]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; height: 550px; border: 10px solid #66654a; background: #fdf701; color: d4cf00; vertical-align: top; text-align: justify; font-family: Georgia; letter-spacing: -2px; padding: 5px; line-height: 15px; font-weight: bolder; ] Eyes are feeling heavy but they never seem to close. The fan blades on the ceiling spin but the air is never cold. And even though you are next to me I still feel so alone. I just can't give you anything for you to call your own. And I can feel you breathing. And it's keeping me awake. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. Something I've been keeping locked away behind my lips. I can feel it breaking free with each and every kiss. I couldn't bear to hurt you but it's all so different now. Things that I was sure of, they have filled me up with doubt. And I can feel you breathing. And it's keeping me awake. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. I can feel you breathing. It's keeping me awake. Could you stop my heart? It's always beating. Sinking like a weight. How am I supposed to feel about the things I've done? I don't know if I should stay or turn around and run. I know that I hurt you, things will never be the same. The only love I ever knew, I threw it all away. And I can feel you breathing. And it's keeping me awake. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. I can feel you breathing. It's keeping me awake. Could you stop my heart? It's always beating. Sinking like a weight. Can you feel it beating? My heart's sinking like a weight. I can feel you breathing. It's keeping me awake. Could you stop my heart? It's always beating. Sinking like a weight. Breathing by Yellowcard

[atrb=style, opacity: 0.8][style=border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 5px; background: #ffffff; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left][/style][style=border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 5px; background: #ffffff; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left][/style][style=border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 5px; background: #ffffff; width: 100px; height: 100px; float: left][/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 360px; margin-top: -500px; z-index: 1; position: relative, bTable][atrb=style,border: 5px double #bdbdbd; padding: 10px; opacity: 0.6; background: #ffffff; ][style=font-family: Helvetica; color: #5e5858; height: 300px;overflow: -moz-scrollbars-vertical;overflow-y: auto; padding-right: 10px; font-family: Helvetica; word-spacing: 1px; line-height: 15px; text-align: justify; ]He shrugged as he took notice of Bart's odd look towards him. However, indifference sealed the subject, and they moved on. This time around, when Bart questioned his odd inquiry, he had a much better excuse. "Oh, it's not that they're uncommon. I'm just making sure for whatever emergencies may arise," he said, patting his cell phone and inhaler in his pocket. Although, to others, it looked more like he was simply patting his thigh as his jeans were on the baggier side. But he didn't think much of it. The sound of his rolling suitcase ceased as he walked on the grass to take a minimal shortcut to the dorms. "So... is the list on the inside, I assume?" he questioned, pulling one of the doors to the building open. He waited for his friend to walk through first before following after. They seemed pretty similar to the freshman dorms, if not exactly the same. He wondered if the dorms themselves were as similar as the freshmen ones. There was no doubt that the walls would be somewhat thin as well. He mused over the possibilities of sharing a dorm with a stick in the mud. It was certainly very possible, but at the same time, he could be paired with a relatively fun-loving person. The chances further slimmed at being paired with a fun-loving person who was interested in his sort of things. The very fact that he had been partnered with Brandon the year before was pure chance and luck. TAGGED : Bart WORD COUNT : 253 NOTES : I imagine the dorms to be set up sort of like a hotel except without a front counter. If I'm wrong, then lemme know and I'll fix it. CREDITS: TEMPLATE by JAWN of AA, OTE, DMB and TC[/style]

[Bartholomew B. Sauer]

"Oh, okay." Bartholomew shrugged as Atticus as he explained that he needed a night stand for his necessities. That was probably for his inhaler and whatever else he might have. It was logical that he would need a place to put those things. It occurred to Bartholomew that since he was new to these dorms, he supposed that, strange as it might seem, there were useful answers to the questions Atticus was asking. He was an unusual thinker, thinking of questions most other people didn't ask.

He nodded his thanks as Atticus held open the door and he went inside. The clicking noise of the rolling suitcase told him that Atticus followed him inside, and he asked where the list was. Bartholomew pointed to a white erase board, where all of the names and dorm rooms were listed. "Right there."

He walked over to the list curiously, to see if there were any changes. A few new people, from what he gathered, but he was still by himself in his dorm. He found Atticus' name - the dorm managers always seemed to know when a new person would be in the dorm, and added the name before most people even knew the new person existed.

"There you are. Room 1D." Bartholomew pointed helpfully at the name "Atticus Sanford." "Looks like you don't have a room mate yet. But you're just down the hall from me." He smiled at Atticus. He was happy to have a friend close by, in case he ever needed someone to talk to. He wondered if Atticus would feel the same way.



Summary:

[/i] Bart says stuff. That's pretty much it. Again. xP I'm not lazy, I swear.
Comments:[/i]
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