fandomhighdorms | Through the Halls of the Dorms, Friday Night

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Through the Halls of the Dorms, Friday Night

Here a week, and already Blackheart was getting nasty ~~handwavey~~ letters on parchment from his Father. It was bad enough that the old man felt the need to check up on him, did he honestly have to do so on parchment? How absolutely, maddeningly... old fashioned. Paper. Honestly. Was it so difficult to use paper? He was the lord of Hell, for Hell's sake, one would think it wouldn't be difficult to get his hands on the stuff. Send a demon up to get some. So bloody difficult. Really.

Blackheart had even been good enough to give his father the benefit of the doubt and read through it. Typical parental garbage. 'How is school?' 'Learn anything new?' 'You better not have killed anyone, or you'll be in so much trouble, mister.'

Stupid old man.

Blackheart wasn't about to do anything to jeopardize his time here in Fandom, if it meant that he didn't have to actually spend time around his Father.

That's why he was stalking angrily down the hallways on his way out of the building, so that he wasn't lighting a fire in his dorm room. Hellfire wasn't really a good thing to be using indoors.

(For one person in particular, but hey, I'm not gonna stop you from using the hallways. Boggle at the angry, pasty, kind of smelly goth kid if you want to!)

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After spending most of the day cramped up in he room, Will had decided that she needed to get out for a bit. She'd grabbed a book and popped out the door to her room--

--and right into a goth kid in the hallway. She bumped into him with a whump hard enough to knock both of them over.

Blackheart was sent sprawling with a snarl- what human had the gall to knock him on the seat of his pants?

He snatched the offensive letter off of the floor and sat up, glowering at the guilty party.

"Not watching where you're going," he noted, with a somewhat dour expression. "Nice."

Oh hello. Here was a new student that Will hadn't met yet. So far her impression of him was that he seemed to be a jerk wearing cheap cologne.

"I wasn't expecting to find someone going right by my door," she replied. She tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

"I wasn't aware that hallways weren't for being walked through," Blackheart raised an eyebrow. "Next time, I'll have to go out the window, I suppose. It's faster."

So what if he had gotten a little lost on his way down, and wound up going up a set of stairs, first? He was from Hell. Things were a little complicated down there.

He stood up, dusted himself off, and, as an afterthought, offered her his hand. One never knew, maybe he'd be able to eat her soul to make up for this.

Will roller her eyes at his comment and tried to ignore it as best she could. Still, it was nice of him to offer his hand. She took it.

She felt a weird sensation go through her when she touched him, kind of like what she'd felt in Metamoor way back when. She frowned as she pulled herself to her feet.

"Thanks," she said flatly to the other guy.

"Anytime," Blackheart said, frowning slightly. No meal tonight. And he was still angry at his father. And he still had to get rid of that bloody parchment. Eugh, letters from home. And running into nasty little humans.

Next time, maybe he would take the window.

"I suppose you're heading outside, hm?"

'Please. No. Please, please no. Do not make me put up with this stupid little thing on the way down the steps. Please.' Not that anyone was really listening.

The weird feeling still wasn't going away, even after he'd let go. Will decided to stay at least somewhat guarded with him.

"Yeah, kind of. I just need to get out for a bit, so outside sounds nice."

She noticed the parchment in his hands. That was an odd choice of writing materiel. "Are you writing something?"

Blackheart glanced at the letter and frowned some more.

"No, I'm just taking this outside to dispose of it. It's a letter from my father." If the tone of his voice hinted at all that he didn't like getting letters from his father, that hint would be very, very correct.

Oh yes, that much was very much evident. Still, Will decided to ask the obvious follow-up question.

"So, do you hate that your Dad writes you letters, or that he doesn't write them on nice stationary?"

"What?" Blackheart stared incredulously at the girl. She couldn't possibly be that stupid. Therefore, she was being a smartass. And he could tolerate that. At least she wasn't being a traditionalist, like his father. Ugh.

...

"My father and I don't really get along." He scowled. This was none of her business. But he had to save face, here.

Oh yeah, he was totally wishing that the letter was on Hello Kitty stationary. She decided that there was a sad emo boy with a love of cutesy Japanese cats under that smelly be-vested pasty goth exterior.

Weird feeling or not, Will still nodded at what he said. "I can understand that. My Dad's a huge creep, so I don't get along with him either."

The kind of creep that had forced her Mother and her to move to a completely different city to get away from him, and who had kidnapped her for a ransom once he'd found her.

Perhaps it was very fortunate that Blackheart couldn't read minds. He might have decided to skip the necroplasm and just take a bite out of her face. He certainly had the teeth for it, when he felt so inclined.

In any case, here was a girl who had father issues, and she was heading outside, and they'd be both going down the stairs at the same time, anyhow. Might as well make with the pleasantries.

"That sounds unfortunate," he decided. It was somewhat unfortunate. Possibly. Perhaps her father would be on his own father's list somewhere in the future, and it was unfortunate that the man would have one more soul to waste some time down the road. "My own father has a somewhat skewed concept of reality, himself."

"Oh?" Will asked. "Does he do drugs, or is he just naturally messed in the head?"

Drugs? Blackheart seemed somewhat amused at the notion.

"No drugs. He took a somewhat nasty fall long before I was even a thought, and hasn't quite been right in the head since." Oh yes, nasty, bitter, almost snarling hate for his father, right there.

Will and her own Daddy Issues were okay with Blackheart's snarly hate. It sounded to her like his Dad was dropped on his head as baby.

"It's a shame that people end up like that, and have to try to mess up their kids too," she said."

"A real sin," Blackheart agreed. Once again, he was sharing father-issues with a human. And it didn't bother him as much has he had thought it might.

Apparently, mortals had their uses, too. He'd tolerate the girl on the walk down the stairs.

"All there really is for us to do is keep going however we're meant to go," he mused, looking down at the parchment in his hand and tightening his grip on it bitterly. "We can't let nasty fathers hold us back."

Will was still getting weird vibes from Blackheart, but there was nothing overt about him to make her think he wasn't human. If she knew, she wouldn't enjoy a slightly strained chat with him.

"That's true," she said. "I know I've tried to do the best I can to help save the world without him."

She offered him a weak smile. "And I'm Will, by the way. Hi."

Ah, a 'save the world' type. Blackheart smiled and nodded slightly. It didn't matter much. She could be a save the universe type, and he wouldn't be worried. After all, he was Blackheart. Even his father feared him enough to strip him down to the bare bones of his power and send him away.

"And my name is Blackheart." .... "Really. That's what he named me."

He liked his name. He was just nipping the 'no, really, what's your name' question in the bud before he had to tell someone else that his name was Gerard.

Will would try to save the universe if she thought it would help. Stupid Hero Complex.

"Oh, I believe you. My full name's pretty bad too," she said.

And besides, she would have known who Gerard was.

... Bad. Right. It was better than the thought that he was compensating for something.

"Let's walk, hm?" So what if he didn't like humans, maybe company wasn't so bad anyhow. He looked at the letter again and crumpled it into a ball.

"Sure."

Will got to the door first, and held it open for Blackheart.

"So, what are you going to do with that letter, anyway?"

"I was thinking I'd burn it," Blackheart mused, stepping through the door- what spectacular service they had in this place. "It's ... therapeutic."

He grinned almost devilishly.

"Unless you had a better idea."

Will shrugged. "Not particularly. It's too bad that you don't have any Jiffy Pop to cook over it, though."

"Jiffy pop?"

Blackheart raised an eyebrow. "What in the world is that?"

Yes, yes he had lived a sheltered life. Why?

"You know, that foily popcorn thing that you put on the shove or over a fire, and it pops up a whole bag of the stuff?" She gave him a look. "Have you made microwave popcorn before?"

...

...

...

"Popcorn?"

A really, really sheltered life.

Will blinked a couple times before giving Blackheart a piercing look.

"Where did you say you were from again?"

"Hell," he said simply. And then he had a notion that this wouldn't be the best note to continue this conversation on. "Michigan."

"Uh-huh."

She wasn't buying the Michigan thing for a minute, but he didn't seem to be plotting anything at the moment. She decided to keep an eye on him.

"And how were you going to burn this letter?"

....

"Matches?"

Hellfire, matches, same thing.

Will leaned back against the school wall.

"We'd better get started. I heard that it's going to get cold later tonight."

Well, Blackheart was good and screwed now, wasn't he? He didn't have a single match on him, really.

There was a ball of parchment in his hand. There was a very suspicious hero sort of girl standing nearby. And here he was without a freaking pack of matches.

And he had to do this without starting a fight and getting sent back to Hell, which seemed less and less appealing the more he thought about it.

...

"I seem to have forgotten the matches."

This was so stupid.

Will gave Blackheart a sympathetic expression. "Aww, that's too bad," she said.

Suspicious? Who, her?

"Yeah. A real sin."

So he was a little annoyed. He glowered down at the parchment and tore it in two. And he felt marginally better.

He'd like to do the same with Will, but once again, the prospect of being sent back to his father danced into his mind. He didn't like it much.

"Maybe I'll just ... recycle it or something, instead."

Did they even recycle parchment?

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Through the Halls of the Dorms, Friday Night

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