enraptured [maya]

[Dalton Jeffrey Collier]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style,margin-bottom:-4px; background-color:#000000][STYLE=width:100px; height:100px; margin:10px; background-image:url(http://i589.photobucket.com/albums/ss334/Midori-chii/piratesoftheC-1.jpg); float:left] [/style][STYLE=width:229px; background-color:#000000; margin-top:15px; color:#f2f2f2; font-family:georgia; font-weight:bold; font-size:30px; margin-left:120px; letter-spacing:-2px; line-height:20px]you can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness[/style]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][STYLE=border-left:11px solid #000000; padding:10px; background-color:#f2f2f2; width:320px; margin-bottom:-2px; text-align:justify; font-size:10px; line-height:10px; margin-top:-2px]Dalton Collier was a bit of a questionable figure with mystery clouding around him. He was fairly certain that he wasn’t any sort of masochist, yet he found that there was something strangely magnetic about a certain snobby sixteen year old girl with a knack for ignoring him. He was a hundred percent sure that she knew who he was because he tried to get her attention every time she passed by, but she disregarded his presence the way the average person managed to overlook a wallflower. It was as if he didn’t exist, and he wasn’t hurt, but he did sometimes find himself questioning if there was anyone else in the world who could put up with her coldness the way he did. Some people might have mistaken his seemingly endless patience for some sort of odd crush, but he wasn’t the type who waited around for girls to reciprocate his feelings, and there was nothing he loved about her whatsoever. The main emotion in motion was mere curiosity. Beneath the tough ice queen act, there must have been some soft of vulnerability or softness just waiting for him to find and manipulate it. There was no exact beginning to his fascination with the teen known as May-Ann Jenkins. One day she had been nonexistent, and then he was suddenly aware of her presence and dying to know how she worked. Something had to make her tick, but he had yet to discover what that was. His shameless calls for attention had been shot down so they obviously weren’t the answer to his question, but he knew that no one could play the part of a picturesque model of composure forever. It was a matter of time before something happened, and he just hoped he would be there when the time came. Maybe he sounded like he had an unhealthy obsession with the younger girl, but that would be an inaccurate and exaggerated representation of what he really thought. She was certainly interesting in comparison to his boringly predictable peers, however he only remembered and thought about her in the moments when she passed by and provided him with a physical reminder of her existence. Otherwise ninety-nine percent of his thoughts were dominated by reminders to attend social gatherings and reflections on how well he was liked. It was easy to mistaken Dalton for being an attention whore, and it was a common misconception that he would wither away into dust if people ever averted their eyes away from him. He often wanted to scoff at the absurdity of such notions. Admittedly he liked attention, but his independent nature never had him feeling needy for anything or anyone. His desire to be liked stemmed from a deprivation of maternal approval that he had dealt with while growing up, but that didn’t change the fact that he just as easily could have been content with being a reject with only a handful of friends. Of course, it would have been significantly less amusing to constantly be around the same boring people, hence why he so often made friends with strangers. Socialising was difficult for some people, but it came naturally to the nineteen year old drifter. It was a matter of smiling and saying things that people wanted to hear, and when a good first impression was made, it nearly sealed the deal for a future friendship. On occasion, it took a little more time and effort for him to convince certain people to buy into his charisma, and that was why Maya had his attention. A long time had been wasted casting friendly smiles and compliments in her direction, but he was always brushed aside wordlessly. She didn’t acknowledge him, and eventually he simply fell into the habit of acting half charming and half infuriating in hopes she would someday react. She couldn’t ignore him forever, and he was almost hoping that he would run into her today so he could take another crack at the mask of indifference that she adorned so smoothly. [/style]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][STYLE=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font: normal 11px arial; line-height: 14px; border-left:11px solid #000000; background-color:#000000; width:320px; color:#cccccc]tagged:

[/font][/color] maya
words:[/font][/color] 675
notes:[/font][/color] template change o;
credit:[/font][/color] oxymoron @ back to neverland[/style][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[MAY-ANN JENKINS]

.

a trick of the light,

Maya Jenkins was hanging by a thread, gripping it with so much force knowing it was only a matter of time before she would fall into nothingness. It had been three days since she had eaten something other than plain celery and water. The pride that came with that was overshadowed by how weak the sixteen year old girl felt. Her life was spinning so hopelessly out of control, the thread she was hanging onto was loose and attached to nothing at all. The only thing she could make decisions about was food. The mirror told her lies and she bought them all. She was all angles and hollow endings but in her eyes there was so much bulk. Nausea took over whenever she passed by her reflection, the hatred for her own body and mind went entirely too deep. The need to be loved was rooted within her, taking over everything. But she wasn't loved. She was probably one of the most hated girls in school and she knew it.

The young woman spewed poison every time she opened her mouth, keeping everyone at a distance. The only person she was nice to was Des and even then it felt forced and unnatural. The only person she'd ever felt comfortable with was out of her life. She had pushed Jace away when things had gotten tough, saying things that tore everything inside her, breaking everything she'd built. And then one day, just like that he was gone. Out of her life and she thought it was her fault. Things had gotten worse then. She never did anything right. Her life was mistake after mistake and she found that trying to fix it was pointless. She thought she had protected her mother when she stood in the way of her stepfather, taking the blows to her already fragile limbs. But she had been wrong. Her mother had objected to leaving the aggressive man. Now both of them were victims of his rage behind closed doors.

During the summer she'd been in London with her real father, the one who was too busy working to realize that anything was wrong. They had been getting along really well. There had been one day at a pub where they had really connected again, when she felt like he had never left them. She tried to find her voice and tell him everything she'd been holding in since becoming a royal last year, but fear won out in the end. What if he did nothing? What if he thought she deserved it? Deep down she knew she did, so she kept quiet and moved the food around her plate in peace. She tried to hint at hiring a tutor and living with him but he seemed to think it was a joke. How could a popular girl with so many friends want to be home-schooled in a different country?

Except she didn't have friends, not even one. Most people were scared of her and that's why she was back at square one. Three people came to mind when she thought of friendship. First, Johnny. She couldn't take him seriously because she didn't believe he was serious. It was surely just a game to him. Nobody could really be that friendly, right? As much as she'd blown him off he seemed to laugh and continue with his humorous antics. It hurt knowing she was the joke of a joker but she'd never admit it. Everything she felt was always kept inside, guarded by the walls, by the tight lid that jammed everything shut. Then there was Annie, but she was the suck up. She only wanted to be popular, it wasn't like she truly liked Maya. No, she was just doing what Maya had done all of last year, play the game. Except Annie was actually nice, and pretty. Maya envied her sweet disposition and slender figure. But she didn't trust her. It had to be an act, another trick to get higher in the ranks. And at last, there was Dalton Collier.

He brought nothing but unanswered questions to her mind. He was the real puzzle she had yet to figure out. What was his deal? She knew he couldn't possibly be truly interested in her. Unless it was for sex but she knew how that turned out and it wasn't going to happen. Maya was a scared little virgin, too afraid to expose herself in the mirror much less to another person. Summer was hard, skimpy outfits were a requirement and she cringed at the thought of having someone look at her massive thighs and flabby arms. She avoided them as much as possible, wearing sweaters, jeans and scarves to hide the fatty layers and swollen bits of skin. Anyway, the boy was too charming for his own good but he wasn't going to get that from her. She doubted anyone ever would. Images of small apartments crawling with felines filled her mind.

She had been sitting on a bench outside the school thinking all of these things. Her mind was a constant threat, attacking her with unpleasant memories and harmful opinions regarding herself. The blonde had just returned from her vacation. It had escaped her mind to make her schedule for this upcoming fall so she had to visit the school to pick out her classes before the administration took matters into their own hands. Her method for selecting the courses was simple. Everyone had posted theirs online and all she had to do was pick the ones where most people were afraid of her. Fear often brought along behaviors similar to friendship in her opinion. It made them agree with anything she said or asked them to do. And when she needed them, they would always be there for her. As long as she maintained her position on the social pyramid, of course.

That's why when she saw the boy she had just been thinking about, she instantly looked the other way, tugging at her long sleeves to cover the welcome home bruises. She couldn't branch out. She couldn't be accepting of anyone but the very best. If she lost her spot as a royal, she would lose everything. Her biting words were enough reason for the whole school to hate her but she was popular therefore she was protected. With that security blanket gone, she'd have nothing to save her but apologies that would never make a difference.

[Dalton Jeffrey Collier]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style,margin-bottom:-4px; background-color:#000000][STYLE=width:100px; height:100px; margin:10px; background-image:url(http://i589.photobucket.com/albums/ss334/Midori-chii/piratesoftheC-1.jpg); float:left] [/style][STYLE=width:229px; background-color:#000000; margin-top:15px; color:#f2f2f2; font-family:georgia; font-weight:bold; font-size:30px; margin-left:120px; letter-spacing:-2px; line-height:20px]you can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness[/style]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][STYLE=border-left:11px solid #000000; padding:10px; background-color:#f2f2f2; width:320px; margin-bottom:-2px; text-align:justify; font-size:10px; line-height:10px; margin-top:-2px]What should have been on his mind at the moment was what he was doing at school during the summer. Dalton had woken up a few hours ago and had gotten dressed in his work clothes, but he had time before his shift at his part-time began. It seemed insensible for him to call out a few friends to hang out because chances were he would lose track of time while goofing off. Being late wasn’t an option, and while most people didn’t particularly like going to work, he found that his didn’t quite mind waiting on tables at a local restaurant. Making money was always good motivation to keep him moving, and it always helped that his social personality helped him get along well with the customers that came in. Plus, he liked to think that he looked pretty good in the white dress and black slacks that were part of the outfit he wore for his job. Being at school while dressed nicely made him feel almost nerdy, and that was a feeling Dalton rarely experienced. There were numerous instances in which he had seen the smart students in school get dressed up for competitions, and obviously he was never one of them. It was a simple fact that he was far from being the smartest kid around. Studying likely would have been an easy solution, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was no fun in sitting around with a book in his hands, trying to memorise definitions and formulas. People watching and observing was far more interesting, and sometimes he thought he would make a decent psychiatrist one day, though it definitely wasn’t a career choice he seriously considered. And that train of thought brought him back to a topic he previously contemplated. If he had to have an answer for what made Maya fascinating, then Dalton would have taken a wild guess. Maybe it was the way she seemed to always carry herself around with such poise and dignity that he couldn’t help but to suspect that not everything was peachy keen. The people who tried their best to convey a certain image always had the most skeletons in their closets. Or at least that was what his personal experience taught him. In a certain way, the younger teen reminded him a bit of himself. He didn’t exactly go around picking on people and enjoying the benefits of popularity, but he did put on a smile and act like the personification of charisma in order to be liked. Making friends kept people from sneaking around and trying to dig into his history in order to store up on ammo when they wanted to hurt him. There were certain things about him that simply weren’t meant to be known. At first glance, Dalton seemed to be a human being who was very easy to understand. He had friends, went to school, and had a normal family. Life was good, and he would probably grow up normally and someday have his own little family to raise even if he was a bit of a flighty guy now. No one ever noticed that his life seemed a bit too flawless or that he rarely talked about his family or childhood. The chances were no one who cared enough to take a closer look at all the finer details of his life. Most of his friendships were based on the elegant simplicity of hanging out and having fun. Swapping secrets and getting too attached to others only caused complications that interfered with the type of life he had come to enjoy. He could only imagine the sort of drama that would unfold if people discovered that he was an unwanted child who was living with his aunt and uncle. What kind of pitying glances would he get if people discovered that he had been held back a year because he was homeless for a little while? That his mother never loved him and refused to acknowledge his accomplishments? That he was still distant from his family because he didn’t know how to depend on them? But wasn’t it better off like that anyway? He was learning to work hard to pay for what he wanted by himself, and independence was something that everyone needed to know at some point or another. If people didn’t react with pity, then the only other imaginable emotion would be rage. Dalton did, after all, choose to deceive people with misguiding words. Probing questions were deflected by answers that deliberately had double meanings, and he referred to his aunt and uncle as his parents partially because they were the closest he had ever had to real parents and partially because he wanted to avoid being asked about his family life. He found that people didn’t take well to being lied to, and it was a weak excuse to say that he never stopped to explain just because they never asked. To be fair, it was true though. It would be terribly awkward if he were to one day interrupt a friendly conversation with an angst-filled tale about his rough childhood. It was much easier to let his peers think whatever they wanted. Basking in his own thoughts was getting tiring, so maybe it was time to get a little more active. Taking a glance at his wristwatch, he noted that he still had a little longer before his shift began, which meant he had enough time to do a bit of exploring. Technically Dalton had been at Manchester Prep for long enough to become well acquainted with every crook and cranny, but there was always room for some more exploration to see if anything changed. The classrooms were never places of interest seeing as they reminded him of mini prisons where teenagers were confined to learn about subjects that they completely forgot about within two years. The real fun was outside, where there were places to hide or hang out at. Turning at a sharp corner that made up part of the building, he headed towards the area where benches were carefully placed, passing by without a glance. There was no time to sit down if his goal was to go around checking if anything significantly changed. In the corner of his eye, Dalton caught the sight of someone sitting down but reminded himself that now wasn’t the time to be making friends. But the head of blonde hair and thin figure all seemed too familiar, and when he backtracked to take a closer look, all his previous plans flew out of his mind. Maya looked away, as if the sight of him repulsed her, and he couldn’t help but smile a little. Had he really grown to be so detestable in her eyes that she couldn’t even stand looking at him? He wasn’t sure how he would feel if the answer was an affirmation, so he decided not to ask. Smiling lightly, he took a seat next to the ice queen and murmured, “You know, not looking at me won’t make me disappear. You could at least say hi and shoot me down after I start annoying you.” [/style]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][STYLE=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font: normal 11px arial; line-height: 14px; border-left:11px solid #000000; background-color:#000000; width:320px; color:#cccccc]tagged:

[/font][/color] maya
words:[/font][/color] 1,198
notes:[/font][/color] I hope this reply was alright. My muse was kind of iffy. D: I'm sorry!
credit:[/font][/color] oxymoron @ back to neverland[/style][/td][/tr][/table][/center]