ArchivedLogs:Connection

Connection
Dramatis Personae Doug, Dusk
In Absentia	2014-02-27 '
Location <NYC> Village Lofts - Lobby - East Village
Bright and sunny, the lobby of this apartment building is clean and unassuming. Requiring an electronic keycard for entry, the pair of elevators dings cheerfully when one arrives. A small sitting area has bright yellow couches and small coffee tables, though the nearby vending machine is perpetually running out of /something/. Tall windows let in plenty of light during the daytime, and the building maintenance keeps the common areas spotlessly clean. A bank of mailboxes near the sitting area collects mail for the building, a recycling bin right at hand for the unwanted spam. Beside the mailboxes, a large corkboard serves as informal meeting space for the announcements, perpetually flyered with notes and notices from the various apartment residents. It is /balls/ cold in New York City, tonight. Not as cold as some nights prior, but it's still pretty cold. Luckily, it is dry. Dry, but so /very/ cold, particularly with the wind. The streets around the Lofts seem relatively deserted as a result, although their emptiness could be related to the late hour. And it /is/ pretty late. But late seems to be a regular homecoming time for Doug, these days, and today is no exception. Or maybe it isn't. Currently, the teenager is simply sitting in the lobby, staring out the front window vacantly. Dressed in jeans and a dark-colored pea coat over a thick grey sweater, he has his laptop bag pulled into his lap, one hand curled around a handful of mail. Around his neck, a green-and-white scarf dotted with Green Lantern symbols has been loosened to hang limply against his chest. Eventually, the staring stops with a /blink/, and Doug turns his attention to the mail in his hand, pursing his lips as he begins to sort through it. There's laughter that comes from the stairwell, preceding Dusk's arrival into the lobby. He doesn't arrive alone, in the company of a perhaps college-aged young woman bundled up in scarf and puffy blue coat and tall fleece-lined boots over skirt-and-leggings combination. Dusk is far less clothed, jeans and sneakers, no socks, no shirt, wings folded around himself like a cloak though one unfolds to hug the woman close to himself, saying good-bye at the door -- though not without a rather lingering kiss before she finally parts to hurry back out into the cold. Dusk shivers at the cold air as the woman heads out, flesh prickled with goosebumps as he turns around, folding his wings back around himself. "-- 'chu sitting down here all alone for?" His brows raise curiously. Doug looks up at the laughter, turning his head to watch Dusk and his friend as they make their good-byes. He looks back down at his mail when they kiss, wrinkling his nose at an envelope claiming him a winner of a tropical vacation for two before he sets it aside. He hunkers down in his coat a bit when the woman opens the front door, pulling his head down into his collar and hunching his shoulders. Dusk's question brings his gaze back up, and he gives the other man a slow sweep of his eyes before he shrugs with one shoulder. "Wasn't quite ready to sit upstairs alone," he says slowly, chewing on his bottom lip. "I just got in a few minutes ago." His eyes track to the door, then back to Dusk. "She looked happy." "Wouldn't upstairs be -- warmer?" Dusk wraps his wings tighter around his torso, repressing a small shiver. His teeth flash in a wide fangy grin. "Oh, I /hope/ so. I mean, /I'm/ pretty fucking happy and it's always best when that's a mutual thing, doesn't really feel right for that to be one-sided." He ambles over towards the mailboxes, digging keys out of his pocket to unlock his. "Anything interesting today?" "Probably," Doug says, looking back down at his mail, sifting out a couple more pieces of junk mail. "It's feeling a little closed-in, lately, though. So, I sit down here for a few mintues, home-but-not-home." He wrinkles his nose, and shakes his head. "It's stupid. I'm probably just being weird." The corner of his mouth pulls to one side in a sudden twitch of a smile to match Dusk's expression more than the tone of his voice. Or lack of. "Mutually happy is the best result," he agrees. "Although I confess to a lack of knowledge of that particular operating system, so I'm only going by what I've heard on Sex and the City." He shakes his head at the question. "Not really," he says. "Couple of magazines, and..." he holds up a postcard, his expression tightening. "A reminder to register as soon as I can." He rolls his eyes, and sets the postcard with the rest of the mail. "So I'll be sure to get right on /that/." "I don't know, home can feel pretty claustrophobic sometimes." Dusk shrugs a wing. "Maybe you need to get out of the house more. And I mean somewhere that /isn't/ school or work. Out of the house like /fun/." His eyes track back towards the door, and his quiet laugh sounds over /top/ of an almost purring growl in his throat; the growl doesn't immediately fade when he starts talking again, continuing on to the rather odd effect of his voice sounding in two separate registers at the same time. "-- I don't think you really need to know much about the hardware to know that /everyone/ leaving satisfied's a good thing." He grimaces, though, rumbling growl fading away at the mention of the postcard. "Fuck that shit, man. You registering?" "Mmm. Fun." Doug's half-smile returns in a sardonic tilt. "I think I remember that. I'm not sure that's the actual problem, though." He chuffs a laugh, dry and soft. "And, if I recall /that/ sort of fun I've had recently." His eyes track back to Dusk meaningfully before pulling away again to the door. He has another chuff for Dusk's observation. "Yeah. Like I said, the best result." He inhales deeply, dropping a hand to grab up the junk mail. "I think I have to," he says. "I'm on a scholarship, and my dad is a government contractor. I have to have documentation." He doesn't sound terribly happy about it. though, a bitter tinge creeping into his tone. "I just..." he pauses, wrinkling his nose. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the long-term possibilities of being on the record." "So what do you think is the actual problem?" Dusk leans against the back of the couch, wings stretching briefly and then wrapping in around himself again. He smiles brighter as Doug's eyes shift back to him. "Hey it's not like you can ever have too /much/ of that sort of fun." The talk of registration just returns his grimace. "Yeahno that's shitty as hell. I'm not doing it. But I kind of already don't have any life to /lose/ so there's that." Doug sighs at the question, and leans back on the couch, dropping his head back look at Dusk for a long moment. "You ever feel lonely?" he asks, eyebrows lifting. "I mean, the kind of lonely where you can be standing in a room full of people, having a great conversation, and still feel like you're standing in the middle of an empty room?" He wrinkles his nose. "That might be a terrible metaphor, but that's how I feel a lot of the time. Like, I can understand any language in the world, but I can't seem to /connect/ with anyone. Not long-term, anyway." He shrugs an awkward, half-upside-down shrug. "I'm probably just feeling sorry for myself. Too much work and school and other shit going on. Makes it hard to think clearly about some stuff." He shakes himself, and manages a game sort of smile that falls slightly at the other man's comments on registration. "Yeah. I have no idea what would happen. I'm not looking forward to it, though." He regards Dusk for a long moment. "You have a great life, all things considered," he says. "I don't think the things you have are the kind of things they're interested in taking away. Not directly, anyway." He frowns. "Not the sane ones. Which are, admittedly,f ew." "Lonely?" Dusk echoes this word like it's a foreign concept, brows slowly pulling together. "No, I don't know. People are awesome. Mostly being around people just makes me feel kind of -- alive. But I've heard other people talk about that same kind of feeling so I don't think you're -- strange in it. Or alone in it. Connection's not always that easy to find, I guess." His elbows prop against the couch, fingers lacing together. "My life? Hah." The grin that spreads back across his face is bright. "Man, that's the first time since I grew these things," his wings unfurl, briefly, shifting in slow flex before closing in again, "that anyone's told me /that/. My life /is/ pretty freaking awesome, though. And everything they could try to take from me they'd be doing registration or no. So fuck 'em. -- Can you look for other scholarship money? Outside the government or the school or whatever?" "Yeah," Doug says, his smile a bit wan at Dusk's confusion. "It's probably not a feeling you experience. You're lousy with people who have that kind of connection with you." His tone says exactly how lucky he thinks Dusk is for this. "I guess it's easier for some people than others. I'm just.../fail/ at it." He chuckles hollowly, and leans a bit in Dusk's direction. "Your life /is/ awesome," he says. "Your roommates are cool, you get more ass than a donkey ranch, and you're /insanely/ talented at computer stuff. /And/ you're hot." His grin this time is easier, and his tone is teasing. "An /embarrassment/ of riches." The question gets a roll of the blonde's shoulders. "I'm checking into some private scholarships," he says. "But there aren't many that offer a full ride. I think I can pull it off, though, if it comes to that." "I don't know. I just like people. I mean, I love --" Dusk flicks a thumb-claw down in Doug's direction. "Just everything, you know? I don't really know if there's much art to it it's just people are beautiful and so I like listening to everything they want to -- say. Maybe that's all the connection really is. Someone who pays attention." His fingers lace tighter, then unlace, one hand lifting to rub against the scruffy-bearded side of his jaw. "You've got half of those down already. Maybe you should move into a place with roommates. There's something to be said for just /having/ people around who. Like. Gotta put up with you." "I like people," Doug says, frowning a bit. "I mean, I know some of the most interesting people. It just..." he purses his lips, and furrows his brow. "I don't know. It's hard to explain." He continues his duck-face, narrowing his eyes at the ceiling. "Paying attention. That seems like a thing I should be good at." His duck-lips turn into a wry smile as he rolls his head to look at Dusk. "I do need roommates," he agrees, nodding firmly. "I know that. I miss having Anwyn around. Even when she was just being difficult, it was still kind of fun." He hums lightly, and narrows one eye. "I need to run another ad. Unless Flicker knows someone who's looking." Doug sits there for another moment before he smiles, and lifts his shoulders to drop them with a heavy, relieved-sounding exhalation. "Man. I already feel better than I did," he says warmly, reaching out to slap at Dusk's hip with his handful of junk mail. "Thanks for listening to me dump my crazy. I really appreciate it." "Dunno. Flicker knows half of everyone so he might. Roommates are also good for reminding you to take a freaking /break/ once in a while, so --" Dusk shrugs a wing, pushing himself upright with a small flash of smile. His wing curls forward, brushing lightly against Doug's shoulder. "Listening I'm excellent at. Crazy, too. We have no end of that around here, either." "Well, /that's/ something I could use," Doug says, leaning into that curl of wing. "Sometimes I look up and whole days have gone by. It'd be nice to have someone to remind me to look up a bit more often." He rubs his cheek against the downy fur of Dusk's wing, then pushes to his feet. "Hey, you want to come up and watch a movie with me?" he asks, moving to dump his junk mail in the recycling bin. "I just got Gravity on Netflix, and I was planning on calling that all-night Chinese place for some takeout." He lifts his eyebrows as he comes back. "My treat." "Oh, man. Movie, company, /and/ food?" Dusk brushes his wing gently back up against Doug's cheek as he slips his phone out of his pocket, glancing briefly at the time and then stowing it away. "I am so down."