i hope i didn't bore you with the story of my life (rp for <lj site="livejournal.com" user="headofap

[heroslayer]

He'd let her sleep until somewhere nearing nine o'clock the next morning, occupying his own time spent awake thumbing through a book, sure that it was the safest of all of his options. She'd gotten up, surprisingly without complaint, taken a few minutes to get her bearings, then slipped out the door to bring back the breakfast she'd promised him the night before. He wasn't sure why she hadn't asked what he'd wanted, whether she figured they liked the same things or if she'd simply forgotten, but it had amused him just the same.

Returning to the couch, a hint of a smile on his face, he'd pulled his book back into his lap and waited for her to return. And some twenty minutes later she had, carrying two take-out plates full of surprisingly decent pancakes and a half gallon of ice cream -- for the pancakes, of course. They'd moved into the kitchen and she'd pestered him into telling the rest of his life story as they ate.

Now out of words, or at least things he could talk about without having to edit immensely, the sat in silence as they finished up their breakfast. After a moment, though, he couldn't help but suggest, "Your turn."

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[howmanyangels.livejournal.com]

She'd slept soundly that night. So soundly that he probably could have killed her had he desired to do so. Perhaps she had let her guard down a bit too much too soon, but he had been pleasant when he woke her up, and though confused initially, she'd quickly remembered everything that had happened the night before, and the fact that all of that hadn't just been a dream. Breakfast had been promised, and she left quickly, needing a bit of air, and it wasn't until she was half way down the street that she remembered she hadn't even asked what he liked. Pancakes though...they seemed safe.

She'd smiled her way through his history, laughing at bits, and having to bite back apologies for others. Of course they were never her fault, but there were times where it would seem right for her to hug him, something, but she stayed in her spot.

"Oh, but I'm no good at telling stories," she said a laugh, as she pushed her last bit of pancake around in the mess of melted ice cream and syrup on her plate. It gave her something to do with her hands as she tried to avoid the question, but knew that really, it would only be fair if she told hers, now that she'd gotten him to tell his.

"Well...I've always lived in an apartment. At least...I think so. I can't remember all that far back, and Dad doesn't really talk about times before it was just the two of us all that much. I think it hurts. Him. That my Mom left. She did that when I was six, though. So, a bit before you, but then again, with our age difference..." She trailed off for a minute, and then shook her head. No, those were tiny, minor details that weren't all that important.

"Anyway. After Mom left, Dad sort of...became obsessed with having everything be best for me. I got sent to private school, too. An all girls school, too. Enrolled me in dance and piano and all that sort of thing. Wanted me to "find my talent", he put it. You know, wanted me to excel in something, so he pushed me when it came to school work too. Disappointed in Bs and all that." She laughed for a moment, a memory running through her mind, and she used it to take a quick drink of water, too. "I don't think it all really worked out the way he would have liked it, though."

"High school was...high school. I didn't care about sneaking off to see boys and all that, so I didn't really have any friends. Dad seemed pleased with that though, since it meant that I spent all my time focusing on my studies. And then came college. I applied to Stanford, and I got in. And a right before I was supposed to go, Dad had a heart attack and couldn't work." Her gaze went to her plate now, continuing to push the food around. "So, because of that, I couldn't go. Despite the scholarship, but, I had to work to keep up the payments on rent for the apartment and the shop, and then for his medical bills. And even though he's been able to work now for a few years, I haven't had the balls to reapply. I don't want to risk getting rejected, I guess. And...now I'm here with you."

[howmanyangels.livejournal.com]

He should try it sometime. Albeit perhaps not while she was there with him, at least not without a proper warning first, since him suddenly just shifting to look like her would freak her out quite a bit. It did, however, have its perks, as did being able to cry on command.

Her arms went up around his neck in a surprisingly tight grip, but it was her life at stake here if she somehow managed to still slip out of his grasp, and she wanted to do all she could to avoid that. "Ready."

[headofapin.livejournal.com]

"You sound legitimately insane, you know," was her comment to him as she noticed the gleeful tone in his voice, however, she had let the cat down by then, and was making her way over to him, a bit of an amused smile on her face. "You do know you look like a boy on Christmas morning now, right?"

And the look on her face became more amused at that, almost to the point where she wanted to reach out and ruffle his hair, but she was pretty sure that would get her sent across the room.

"Find it?"

[howmanyangels.livejournal.com]

"The blood is kind of...bloody. Horrible to get out from under nails once it's dried." And she didn't move either, with him in the way, and not really wanting to move, she was rooted to the spot, staring into his eyes, and then swallowing thickly.

[howmanyangels.livejournal.com]

And she knew that. She could sense that he had more - much more, than the little things he had shown her so far. He'd had years after all, and apparently quite the hunger for collecting new things. It was logical that he would have even more than that. "I can even cook for you if we get groceries."

She paused for a moment. "Really, most nights I just stay in and read...and that makes me sound like the most boring person on the planet."