Andrew ficlet
Dec. 18th, 2004 05:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascavefor ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_dothefandango
Green socks. White shorts. Black tshirt.
Andrew stared down at himself and wondered if there was anything there to be embarrassed by. Everyone giggled at him when he wandered the hallways, and he had narrowed it down to either his clothes, or his hair.
Living with girls was a lot harder than living with a brother who was always plotting to destroy things. But Andrew couldn't see anything wrong with what he was wearing, and he'd checked the mirror for signs of bed hair and saw none. He should be good to go, but somehow he knew when he walked out, there would be giggling.
He could just stay in here. Storage-room-turned-cell, it was the only home away from dead family and burned house he had. Or maybe they'd got away; he didn't really know and he'd stopped caring around his twelfth birthday when his brother had disintegrated all Andrew's presents and their parents refused to buy any new ones.
There wasn't much to do in here, beyond the obvious, and he'd done that twice already. He went back over to the cot anyhow, and sat down. Giggling girls, Slayers of Evil who never seemed to understand the pain of trying to leave Evil behind and start a new life? Or this. Alone with just a flashlight and a pile of comics he'd read a dozen times before?
He reached over and picked up the one on top. It wasn't that he had them memorised, he thought to himself as he opened it up. It was that once upon a time he'd have shot himself before reading a title drawn by C. Marley. And now here he was, with nothing else to read.
Maybe this was penance. He lay down on the cot, and read.
_dothefandangoGreen socks. White shorts. Black tshirt.
Andrew stared down at himself and wondered if there was anything there to be embarrassed by. Everyone giggled at him when he wandered the hallways, and he had narrowed it down to either his clothes, or his hair.
Living with girls was a lot harder than living with a brother who was always plotting to destroy things. But Andrew couldn't see anything wrong with what he was wearing, and he'd checked the mirror for signs of bed hair and saw none. He should be good to go, but somehow he knew when he walked out, there would be giggling.
He could just stay in here. Storage-room-turned-cell, it was the only home away from dead family and burned house he had. Or maybe they'd got away; he didn't really know and he'd stopped caring around his twelfth birthday when his brother had disintegrated all Andrew's presents and their parents refused to buy any new ones.
There wasn't much to do in here, beyond the obvious, and he'd done that twice already. He went back over to the cot anyhow, and sat down. Giggling girls, Slayers of Evil who never seemed to understand the pain of trying to leave Evil behind and start a new life? Or this. Alone with just a flashlight and a pile of comics he'd read a dozen times before?
He reached over and picked up the one on top. It wasn't that he had them memorised, he thought to himself as he opened it up. It was that once upon a time he'd have shot himself before reading a title drawn by C. Marley. And now here he was, with nothing else to read.
Maybe this was penance. He lay down on the cot, and read.