fandomhighdorms | The Roof; Late Friday Morning.

Entry tags:

The Roof; Late Friday Morning.

Although he'd spent a proper day ~~afk~~ brooding, A.J. was still feeling upset about that whole thing with Annette coming in the other day. And the more the thought about it, the more ~~angsty~~ ~~emo~~ upset he got. Maybe, yeah maybe she didn't know any better. But Annette was smarter than that! She had to have known what she was doing, and if she knew what she was doing...

Because he most likely didn't have the strength to put his aggression out in most forms, he did it through his painting. He'd laid down a big canvas on the floor, picked up a few brushes at once, each dipped in certain paints and just slashed and stabbed and dotted and streaked wherever it felt right, or effective. Jackson Pollack on moody, teenaged boy angst, as A.J. tried to figure out the conundrum of the fact that he always seemed to want what he couldn't have, and then what he could just....He hoped to find the answers in the paint. He'd title this piece "Solution to a Problem about Love that's Not as Messy as Blowing Out your Brains."

[[ open roof is open ]]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

River had wandered up to the roof, hoping to find some privacy, but as A.J. was there that wouldn't be he case. Still, he was good company, although his state of mind kept seeping into her thoughts, making her pull the imaginary veil that shielded her from the emotions of others tighter around her.

She approached A.J., watching him paint while remaining silent.

At first, A.J. regarded River with only an sharp incline of his chin, his expression set firmly in reflection to the emotions he was spilling out onto the canvas. He was in the middle of a move that he wasn't quite sure how to make. Finally, drawing in a breath, his arm swung out in a strong circle, arching the paint, and then he sharply brought his hand down, so splattering the blue paint sharply down for the graceful but dangerous sort of arch he'd just made. His lips pressed together as he looked at it; a lazy, splotty, angry sort of question mark and he sighed. He started this to get answers and was only getting more questions. Maybe he just needed a break.

"Hey, River," he said, finally, shoulders hanging as he turned toward her with an extremely weak attempt at a smile.

"Hello." River didn't smile back as he didn't really seem to be in the mood for smiling. "Doesn't work?"

Annette wandered up to the roof to get a bit of fresh air and to look out over the school grounds. Sometimes she just did this; time alone to be reflective about certain situations that seemed vexing to her. Lately it was A.J and she wasn't about to lie to herself about him. She was just going to be silent in the inward struggles that plagued her, and hoped that some form of answer would come to her in the peaceful quiet of the morning.

However, it was not to be as she spotted him the moment she stepped out onto the floor of the roof.

A.J. drew in a slow breath as he looked at the painting. "Not...yet," he answered, doubtfully, and then he sighed as he went to grab a bucket of grey paint.

A.J. had, in a manner of speaking, managed to immerse himself in the work enough that it wasn't just angry splashing and frustrated splattering anymore, and he, armed with a thick brush and a can of orange, knelt down beside his large canvas to start painting circles. There needed to be circle, starting big in one corner, spiraling across the canvas and looping around each other as they got smaller and smaller and finally disappeared, which might have been just a little bit of wishful thinking. He didn't notice Annette; he was too into the work at this point.

"Persistance can be good or bad." She tilted her head. Perhaps painting wasn't the way to solve this particular problem, but she said nothing about that. "It's not an uncommon problem," she added quietly.

"What? Persistence?" A.J. frowned a little.

She was uncertain, unsure whether or not to approach him and Annette took several moments in consternation to consider carefully her mood, possibly his. Had she remembered that he worked on Wednesdays, she never would have gone to the diner with Dick.

Or would she have? She hated these thoughts that turned around in her mind leaving her with mixed emotions and troubled feelings. It wasn't right, or fair, and she knew she was doing it to herself.

Unwittingly she found herself moving towards him. It was an action that was without thought and when she was at his side, she knelt down beside him, staring thoughtfully at the circles.

"That which you're trying to solve." She fell silent, observing the painting.

A.J.'s attention shifted when he felt someone approaching, and then his question of who was answered quickly enough when she was kneeling down next to him.

Come on! His jaw set firmly and his grip on his paintbrush tightened and he became very, very intent on that big orange circle in the corner. "Annette," he said, straining to make it sound casual.

"Oh," A.J. said, his eyes following River's toward the canvas. She couldn't mean...nah, how could she? "Yeah," he sighed in slight frustration, running a paint speckled hand carelessly through his hair. "I know. Modern art, right? I like it how it is, but most people will probably look at it and that it's just splotches, big deal, so I gotta work in something to make it connect more. Even thought it's not a...very...well connected piece by theme."

His straining wasn't good enough and she knew... she knew there was a definite change between them.

"Hi, A.J." she said quietly.

"Timeless problem," she replied. "If the circles start spinning you might loose your balance." She frowned a little, still studying the painting. "Might want to watch where the mind wanders."

A.J. kept his focus on his painting, finishing up the circle and reaching the other way to grab a smaller brush waiting with red to outline he shape with. He drew a thick line steadily around it and, since the orange was still wet and with a small dab of white he started to blur the edges. He didn't say anything. What would he say?

Annette didn't look at him yet, instead she kept her gaze focused on the circle and was trying to figure out it's purpose. She stared hard, unblinking, watching what he was doing and doing her best to understand the signifigance. Each person's interpretation could be different, her's could be different from his...

"You are upset with me," she stated simply.

As if that was something anyone could really help. A.J. let out a soft, thoughtful sound, feeling more depressed now than angry. Wait. Nope. Just took remembering why he was angry to get another spike of that, leaving him both, which left him tired. "I don't know," he said, sighing, rubbing his face a little. "I just...I don't know." He started to head toward his paints. "Maybe it needs more red."

"Maybe more letters," River said, wincing a little at the feelings that got through her barriers. "Should leave you to it." She turned to leave.

The brush stopped for a second as A.J. realized he needed to make a choice right then. Pretend that nothing happened or that he wasn't upset and just deal with it for the sake of preservation, or be honest. Knowing how well he did at that first one (which wasn't well at all), he continued painting again and simply said, "Yeah."

If she knew that much, she'd probably know why, which meant she did know what she was doing and...well, he didn't think he should have to say much else.

A.J. was quiet for a moment before considering the suggestion, and worrying a little that letter might end up saying too much. He was slow to realizing that she'd turned to leave, and he looked back over at her. "...Thanks, River."

Eyes fixed on the painting, she replied in the same soft undertones of being emotionally uspet herself. "I forgot you worked Wednesday's, A.J." Which in itself going to the diner on that day was just a choice... it didn't have to do with feelings, or anything else. He was using her going to the diner on that day as a copout to be upset with her; a coverup for something else that he has never voiced. Sure, a lot was said in looks, in movements, but he never said anything about her, to her, in any emotional manner. It wasn't fair for him to be upset with her. It wasn't.

"Why?" Finally she turned to look at him, her eyes on his.

And didn't those two comments just conflict, because if she felt the need to explain that she'd 'forgotten,' then she knew exactly why. He kept his focus on the painting, working more quickly. "You really have to ask?" he muttered, and then, as soon as he said it, found himself thinking that maybe she did. Maybe he'd been wrong in thinking there was something between them and all this was just him making it all up. That there was anything between them. Probably all in his head from start to finish, and it wasn't her he was mad at but himself for the wasted energy when he had something perfectly good and wonderful waiting for him.

"Yes, I do. I want to hear you tell me why. I want to know why you're angry. I need to know, A.J.," her voice raised. "I want to hear you tell me why."

She should have turned around and left the moment she saw him. She should never have knelt by him, already knowing the why's and the want's to the questions that struggled within her.

But dammit if she didn't want him to look at her and tell her. She needed to hear the words. She had to hear the words.

"What would be the point, Annette?" A.J. asked, with more anger than he intended as he shook his head and tightened his jaw. He turned to look at her, but it was only for a fleeting second, as he turned away again, this time past the painting. "So you could tell me outright that I don't stand a chance? Just rubbing it my face isn't enough anymore?"

"That's not fair, A.J., and you know it," she said. "I've not rubbed your face in anything, not intentionally. Ever."

Annette came to her feet and started pacing, folding one arm across her middle and pinching the bridge of her nose with her opposite hand. "Do you think this has been easy for me? Am I supposed to just suddenly stop the torrent of emotions that nearly choke me sometimes? I think, I feel, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop what I've got with you. Unless..." She stopped mid-stride to look at him in confusion.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 3

The Roof; Late Friday Morning.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject