Arvel Ayers
Passive | St Mungo's Cleaner
- Messages
- 723
- OOC First Name
- Claire
- Blood Status
- Half Blood
- Relationship Status
- Single
- Sexual Orientation
- Bisexual
- Age
- 11/2033 (26)
Continued from here
Arvel tried not to glance over Nixon's shoulder at Marlowe, but the harder he tried, the harder it became to stop himself. It was like trying not to think of a pink elephant. As soon as Nixon spoke, however, Arvel's attention was bound to his face. Nixon wanted to apologise... to him? If anybody should be apologising, Arvel felt that it was him, though Nixon did have a lot to be sorry for. Arvel supposed he'd just expected to have to be the one to apologise first. Nixon's maturity was surprising, and almost made Arvel feel immature in front of him. But though the apology was nice, there was a finality in the boy's statement, an unspoken implication that nothing was ever going to happen between them. Arvel hadn't even realised he was holding out hope that Nixon might turn around and profess his undying love for him until that moment. It cut right through him, threatened to make him cry. "Oh," he said, willing the tears not to surface. Suddenly he was overcome with the desire to get out of there. Nixon was rejecting him. Officially. In the middle of the Valentine's Dance. "OK. Thanks..." Thanks. As if Nixon was doing him a favour. Maybe he was; maybe this way Arvel could let him go for good. Too embarrassed to muster an apology of his own, even if Nixon deserved one, Arvel turned around and walked quickly in the opposite direction.
Arvel tried not to glance over Nixon's shoulder at Marlowe, but the harder he tried, the harder it became to stop himself. It was like trying not to think of a pink elephant. As soon as Nixon spoke, however, Arvel's attention was bound to his face. Nixon wanted to apologise... to him? If anybody should be apologising, Arvel felt that it was him, though Nixon did have a lot to be sorry for. Arvel supposed he'd just expected to have to be the one to apologise first. Nixon's maturity was surprising, and almost made Arvel feel immature in front of him. But though the apology was nice, there was a finality in the boy's statement, an unspoken implication that nothing was ever going to happen between them. Arvel hadn't even realised he was holding out hope that Nixon might turn around and profess his undying love for him until that moment. It cut right through him, threatened to make him cry. "Oh," he said, willing the tears not to surface. Suddenly he was overcome with the desire to get out of there. Nixon was rejecting him. Officially. In the middle of the Valentine's Dance. "OK. Thanks..." Thanks. As if Nixon was doing him a favour. Maybe he was; maybe this way Arvel could let him go for good. Too embarrassed to muster an apology of his own, even if Nixon deserved one, Arvel turned around and walked quickly in the opposite direction.