OPEN starter.
Jehan stumbled down the street, tripping in the darkness but he didn’t dare to stop. He had to keep going, despite the pain, despite his body screaming for him to stop while his mind was consumed with the need to get home.
His bottom lip and nose were burst and there was a bruise blossoming on his right cheek. Covered in blood with his shirt ripped he made a sorry sight. He tripped again over, falling to the ground with a cry. He tried to get up but his body protested, going numb and limp as his arms buckled when he tried to climb to his feet.
Hoechlin’s love for Dylan actually makes me cry. Yes people always say “But Dylan loves Hoechlin too!” but Hoechlin is so obvious for his adoration for Dylan is makes my heart cry.
Like the way Hoechlin always pays attention to everything Dylan says, hanging off every word and always laughing wholeheartedly when Dylan makes a joke. Or how he looks at Dylan, like he could look at him forever, how his eyes always seem to flicker to Dylan’s lips before looking back up again.
Or how he does childish things to get his attention, like the latest S3 video with throwing things at his back, or the bloopers with them together, or him making an excuse to hold Dylan’a hand during Comic Con.
His face lighting up everytime he goes to film in the mornings because he knows Dylan will be there and the thought instantly makes him smile because he can be himself around Dylan, he can be goofy and childish and Dylan will love him for it.
Denny tossed a rock into the tide, his eyes following it until the stone disappeared under the waves. Popper fluttered down from his place on the dock, landing on the calm waves. What a carefree little bird, he thought. Rubbing a hand through his hair, Denny lay down on his back, eyes focusing on the gray clouds that covered the sun.
Why the hell was his stomach in a knot?
M!A: It's a bird. No, it's a plane! ...It's Lloyd Irving?!
Flying without a rheaird was an exhilarating experience for the youth. Perhaps, this is what Colette felt like when she could fly, he thought to himself. He soared through the skies, making various shuttle loops and turns at every chance he took. The activity seemed to take little to no effort at all…
Or so he thought.
A giant gust of wind knocked the swordsman out of the sky and sent him spiraling towards the ground into, or rather, through the roof of a house.
After the dust cleared, he found himself in a bathtub filled with water and the debris from the ceiling. A strange mixture, indeed. The sun shined through the freshly-made hole in the ceiling onto him, almost as if to let the whole world know that he was there.
Sighing to himself, he picked the pieces of ceiling and roof-tile out of his hair. How was he gonna get out of this one? He could only hope that whoever owned this house was not in at the moment.
