Jonathan 'Flick' Brennan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flickofthewrist) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomhighdorms2013-12-17 10:46 am
flickofthewrist) wrote in fandomhighdorms2013-12-17 10:46 am
the gym ; tuesday afternoon
With his two classes finished, Flick made his way down to the gym for some celebratory end of the semester exertion. Except with less celebration and more exertion and rage and anger and devastation because that was still bottled up inside him and he figured that getting it out here would be better than getting it out in the form of a panic attack.
He hadn't spoken to anyone back home since he'd gotten back. Not his father or Mandel or Gwendolyn or anyone. Not that he wanted to speak to any of those people but he figured they'd, at least, try to reach out and gloat in their own passive aggressive way (well, maybe not his father but Flick really didn't want to speak to him right now).
Actually, he hadn't said two words since he'd gotten back on the island. He'd taken his exams, spent time in his room, stolen a few things on the mainland and now he was here, beating on the heavy bag as was his MO. He'd been doing that solid for nearly a half hour when he realized that it wasn't working.
The vice like feeling in his chest wasn't releasing, his anger wasn't abating, and he still wanted to do things that he was trying to avoid thinking about. He didn't want Mandel to be right but he slowly beginning to wonder if the psychopath was right.
Flick kept swinging.
[It's an open post, natch]
He hadn't spoken to anyone back home since he'd gotten back. Not his father or Mandel or Gwendolyn or anyone. Not that he wanted to speak to any of those people but he figured they'd, at least, try to reach out and gloat in their own passive aggressive way (well, maybe not his father but Flick really didn't want to speak to him right now).
Actually, he hadn't said two words since he'd gotten back on the island. He'd taken his exams, spent time in his room, stolen a few things on the mainland and now he was here, beating on the heavy bag as was his MO. He'd been doing that solid for nearly a half hour when he realized that it wasn't working.
The vice like feeling in his chest wasn't releasing, his anger wasn't abating, and he still wanted to do things that he was trying to avoid thinking about. He didn't want Mandel to be right but he slowly beginning to wonder if the psychopath was right.
Flick kept swinging.
[It's an open post, natch]