fandomhighdorms | The Roof, Thursday Morning

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The Roof, Thursday Morning

By now, Ender had identified whatever was going on with him as the raging hormones that they were. He still didn't like it; the indirectness of the itch, the way it made him flush for no reason at all, was troubling. Maybe if there had been an actual target for it, it would've made more sense to deal with, but there wasn't.

It was just some other creature carrying his skin around, like an overcharged chimpanzee looking for a quick release. Out of everything in the world he didn't have control over, his body had always been the one exception.

In short, Ender's place was on the roof this morning, where he could still catch the last snatches of the night's cold and he could focus on the laptop keys going tap-tap-tap underneath his fingers.

[[ open, for i am cruel ]]

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Eleanor had been feeling rather itchy herself since yesterday. She was used to rising early, but this time she was up purely because she couldn't sleep.

One can only handle tossing and turning for so long.

She thought the roof might be a good place to relax for a bit, catching the morning before she had to worry about class. She hadn't expected anyone else to be up there.

"Oh. Good morning," she said with a nod.

It might be noticed that she was still in her thin white linen nightdress with only a knitted shawl around her shoulders and bare feet.

It was a fact of life that if you took to the roof when you didn't want anyone to be there, someone would be there. Of course Ender spent a lot of time on the roof; it wasn't really a surprise, then.

It didn't stop that chimp from curling under his skin, leaning into not-quite-right but drawing his eyes to the lines of her skin by the nightdress anyway.

He fought it. His eyes went up to her face. "Good morning."

Penelope rushed out onto the roof, a hand covering her heart in a senseless attempt to still its rapid beating. Winded, she fled for the edge of the roof, both hands splaying flat against the barrier, and there she closed her eyes, gulping in the fresh morning air.

Sleeping had proved difficult. Her body ached; there were feelings she couldn't name nor express and she ached, not knowing how to satiate the raging need.

Unaware of anyone else out, she had fled here to try and quiet her minds thoughts, and more importantly get some sort of stoic grip on innominate emotions that continued to plague her.

"It's a lovely morning, isn't it?"

Not exactly a great conversation starter, but Eleanor couldn't think of much else. She was too busy noticing his eyes. Wow.

Ender was distracted by the sudden movements, and then the lean of her body by the barrier. He closed his eyes and took in a breath to steal himself, mentally admonishing internal wiring, valves and wheels that had been long left in the dust to quiet themselves.

He didn't say anything to greet her - whatever it was that was going on with him, with the rest of Fandom, was something he felt no need to provoke.

With a slight wrinkle of concern on her brow, Eleanor headed in the other girl's direction.

She stopped nearby, but not too near as to be imposing upon her personal space.

"Are you all right?"

No, it wasn't a lovely morning. It was tiring, exhausting, even, and posing a strain. In the interest of maintaining a normal facade, Ender tried for a slight smile. "I guess," he said.

It wasn't brilliant, either. Not to his standards.

"We haven't been introduced yet. I'm Eleanor," she reached a hand out toward him.

Would skin-to-skin contact be a good idea right now? Ender's mind said no, but there was a little voice now, screaming about how it would hurt anyone. So he took her hand, and shook it gently. "Ender," he replied. "Aren't you one of the new students?"

Her face tilted upwards, to the sky, to the light, and she felt her body grow warm once more. The heavy sensation that provoked the very root of who she was, had her pressing against the barrier, claiming it.

If only it would push back the desire that seemed to ripple in waves just under the surface of her skin.

There was something wrong with her and she was easy to accept that it possibly could have started with the stick figures in Professor Bond's class yesterday.

"Oh," she murmured on a whisper, "please stop."

He shouldn't say anything. The more distance he kept between himself and everyone else, the easier it would be to isolate his own hormones, to keep things simple. "It's probably Fandom Weirdness," he wound up saying, despite his better efforts. "It's like the tides. It'll go."

She turned her head sharply at the spoken words, and her fair skin flushed fast in the morning light. Was she easily read? Would this girl see that Penelope had been lost in thoughts desirous in nature?

Good heavens, she was breathing too hard.

"I... I'm not certain."

Startled that she wasn't alone, Penelope stepped back from the ledge, focused on the boy who spoke to her. Flushed, her chest rose and fell quickly with her rapid heartbeat. "Forgive me; I wasn't aware anyone else was out here."

Fandom Weirdness. Is that what was making her look at him longer than necessary? Made her want to...

No. Clearly she had to stop thinking.

A relentlessly logical - or maybe the opposite of that - part of Ender was pointing out that none of this was in the least bit right. The rest of him was preoccupied with the unfamiliar sensation of having to force himself to keep from staring at her chest.

"It happens," he said, "It's a big roof."

It wasn't right. Any of it. Still, she unwittingly took a step forward in his direction. A single step. The nervous fluttering in her stomach didn't quite reach her brain, instead the pleasure she derived from it did.

She chewed her bottom lip, dipped her head away from his gaze, and if it was true that Fandom was affecting her -- was it affecting him too? -- she could only assume.

"It is," she finally replied, her voice soft.

"I'm not sure if proximity is a good idea."

He should have remembered that a minute ago, when he could've still left the roof and found somewhere else a little quieter. Now he was stuck with this; something in his stomach tensed.

"Yes," she replied, feeling suddenly flushed. His touch was gentle and it felt so nice. "I'm ... from England."

Because that wouldn't be obvious from the accent. Heavens above, why couldn't she think?

Her lashes lifted and her dark eyes settled on his face.

Right. Of course. How could she, in a million miserable years, think that anyone would be attracted to her?

Penelope swallowed and slowly raised a hand to cover her nose.

"Of course." There was a small shake of her head, a small step backwards. "I wasn't thinking," she whispered.

"What's wrong?" she asked, stepping a bit closer. "You seem flushed."

And it was so terribly cute.

...and why was she thinking that?

Eleanor may have been a bit flushed herself now.

"Is it ... perhaps it is something in the air? I am not feeling quite like myself either."

"You wouldn't be the first."

It was that Ender had a lot of extra brains to go around, even if those were clouded and foggy. "I'm from the States, but I grew up..." he squinted, and only then did he let go of her hand, slowly. "Somewhere else."

"Am I?" She knew she was; her cheeks were burning.

"As you are."

Flushed cheeks seem lovely on anyone but Penelope.

"Fandom, quite possibly." She bit her lip. "How... how do you feel, exactly?"

And now he'd hurt her feelings. He needed to do something about that.

"It's not you," he tried; luckily, he'd seen enough movies not to say anything beyond, "I'm trying to deal with what the island is throwing at us. It might... unbalance things."

She nodded, "So I've been told." She found herself wishing he would hold her hand again, so instead she pulled it close to her chest.

"Where somewhere else?"

It was so warm outside, even in her nightgown, she felt hot. There was a bit of pinkness beginning to fill her cheeks.

Romeo gave up smoking when he turned 18, on the general theory he was past his days of courting an early death.

Today, though? There was something a little ... he didn't feel quite right in his skin, and even Yurika wasn't helping as much as she usually did. Maybe it was his conversation with Turtle last night putting him in a melancholy mood, he wasn't sure. At any rate, he was up on the roof earlier than he wanted to be awake, stray package of smokes he'd kept for emergencies such as this one in his hand.

Of course, he couldn't be the only one there. "Good morrow," he said, to no one in particular, as he lit his cigarette and found a place on the ledge to sit.

It was always her. Always her nose. But she found herself trusting those three words, taking them for truth even though she did not know this boy. Perhaps another reflection of what the island might be throwing at them. Her.

Her hand slowly lowered from her nose, to rest over her heart once again.

"I wouldn't wish for that to happen." Or perhaps that unbalance might enlighten her. Who was to know? "I don't wish discomfort upon you," she added, now leaning back against the barrier that kept her from toppling over to the ground below.

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The Roof, Thursday Morning

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