[to the rhythm of the awful rusted machines]

[e v e l y n *]

It was still.

And it was raining; the water drummed quietly on the thick window panes. The sky was sickly and heavy, ready to dump pounds of rain in light loads. All the better. No one liked downpours, after all. Evelyn was glad for the silence. It made it easier to paint; easier to focus. She dipped her brush into the paints and made a graceful stroke across the canvas. The dull red streaked messily across the white fabric, and her strokes became more furious. The light itching sound of the brush’s bristles against the rough canvas was the only sound that soaked the air. It was mesmerizing. Evelyn worked with a steady, still hand. Her eyes were focused and dark as she followed her brush, every movement of her hand measured and planned. She was born with a paintbrush in her hand. It was where she felt at home. The rain tap tapped on the window, an uneven beat now. She swallowed and pulled her brush from the canvas, green eyes surveying her work. The sunset she was painting was locked in her mind. She’d seen it a few years back, right off Lake Michigan. The sky was streaked blood-red, with an orange tint that made it seem like it had caught fire and was slowly burning away…

Evelyn blinked, pulling her long bangs out of her eyes with a paint-splattered hand. She didn’t exactly know how she was going to put that beauty on the canvas – that was the challenge to being an artist. Getting the emotion from your heart to the paper was hard, no matter how easy it seemed. It’s hard to put yourself into something and hope people like it. She would know, after all. Evelyn sighed, pulling her painting shirt farther over her jeans – her dignified paint shirt was an old, ratty t-shirt she wore to keep her real clothes from getting dirty. She needed a new one, now that she thought of it. Her eyes fell to the dirty floor of the art room. Bits of paint, flecks of clay and hardened plaster dotted the dull green tiles. Scuffing her shoe boredly against all the filth, pausing to listen to the rain. It had been raining for weeks. Sure, she was sick of snow, but sometimes rain could be even worse when it came non-stop.

Sometimes, though, rain captivated her. She couldn’t exactly say why; it just did. Something about the rhythm it kept as it slapped against the ground, uneven and unsteady but never stopping. You never knew what was going to come next. Evelyn pulled her gaze from the floor and back to the canvas, gripping the paintbrush tighter as she wondered what to do next.

ooc; wifey only. D:<

[__ ADAL !]

if i only had a mask i'd cover these bleeding eyes.

The beat thrummed in his ears. Adal's eyes were closed. He was sitting. the weather outside was terrible, as it had been for weeks. It was raining, pouring. ...the old man is snoring? Adal shook the old tune out of his head. Everything about the world reminded him of music. He now loged to get back to his apartment on Michigan Avenue. Get his hands on his guitar and forget what he left behind in Germany. Flecked brown orbs flitted open. His eyes are red and bloodshot. They looked rusted like an old piece of machine or something of that sort. Adal twitched at the irony of the day. Rainy. Cold. Windy...Chicago was always windy. Just like that day. The day he lost her. The day he lost himself. He cringed at the memory. No. Yes. Leave it behind. He could get away from it. He was in the U.S. In Chicago. A huge city. They couldn't find him here...could they? Adal started to shake. What if they did find out where he was? What if they found out what he did? NO! They would never find him. They..couldn't.

Adal's heart thudded. Why did the past come back. It always came back. It ruined his life. It ruined is thoughts. It ruined his whole self in general. Not that he really minded. Adal wounded himself daily. Puking, pills. they hurt him on the inside. The knife, razor, anything damaged his skin routinely. Part of his abnormal lifestyle. But nobody cared. He didn't exactly have anybody to care. Adal curled his hands over his knees, drawing them close. He rocked slowly back and forth to the music sleeping into his ears. He heard thunder rumble in the distance. Adal's feet twitched. He broke from his scared poistion and walked. Then it morphed into a run. Then a sprint. A quick, reckless ramp. His shoes hit the ground in tap, tap taps. They hardly touched the ground in fact. A door approached. Adal's pace raced faster and faster. He punched the door open in front of him. Blind fear drove him. He heard shouts behind him. Quick, shadowy figures followed after him. Fierce dogs barked in threatening tones with his pursuers. Nothing was real. Nothing was real. Adal didn't know anything happening though.

He didn't see her. He didn't see anything but those wispy people chasing him down. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to get thrown into a nasty prison, he didn't want whatever punishment they'd throw at him for what he'd done. Adal cried out when his body hit something. Running at full speed he fell backwards on the hard floor. A crash erupted and he heard a girl cry out. Adal layed there, shoked from the impact. He zoomed back into the real world. The chasers and canines buzzed away. Something sticky and almost wet feeling puddled around him. Red. Adal's heart stopped for a second. Then he say purple, orange, grey. He gently sat up. Paint was everywhere, an easel lie on the floor, a canvas sat on the floor - looking slightly tattered. Adal then saw her. A girl was opposite of him on the floor. He frantically backed against a wall, fear over ruling his eyes. What had he done? Adal's breaths came in shaky, heavy, gasps.

they're bloodshot now. but they'll be black by dawn.

[e v e l y n *]

thump, thump, thump.

What was that? Evelyn lifted her eyes to the empty doorway. She paused to listen for more thumps…

Thump thump thump.

And then:

thumpthumpthumpthumpthump.

Fear swelled in her stomach as she put down her brush. They almost sounded like footsteps, but she couldn’t imagine who would want to hang around here on a lazy Saturday. She froze like a terrified bunny, waiting for the mess that could possibly come roaring through the door. The last thing she expected was this boy, who came running in like a savage animal was chasing after his soul. She watched him with nervous eyes as he expanded his path of destruction to the art room. People say that dramatic things happen in slow motion – that isn’t true. This happened so fast, Evelyn was surprised to see the kid in a thick, maple-syrup sticky puddle of her paints. The wobbly table that held her paints had been knocked over carelessly; red paint stained the floor like blood. The nervousness stayed in Evelyn’s gentle green eyes.

What should she say? Are you okay? Want me to help you? You ruined all my paints… From the looks of the fear in the boy’s own eyes, he didn’t seem quite sane. This didn’t really bother her, but it was still something to be nervous about if he was still in that state of mind. She took a few fearful steps, the sound of the boy’s ragged, shallow breathes filling the air. She swallowed and felt words crawl their way up her throat. “Um.. are you alright?” Evelyn's voice was a soft, light alto. Her words were hesitant, but caring. Poor kid. He looked like a wounded zebra that had just been chased down by a lion, and barely escaped death. The rain pounded harder as thunder’s voice soaked the heavy clouds. She focused on that sound for a moment, waiting for the awkwardness in the situation to go away. It didn’t.

Should she say something else? Evelyn licked her lips and surveyed the chaos around her. The canvas had be pulled from the wooden stand, and lay in torn ruins across the floor. Her table lay on its side, rolled over to the corner of the room. The paints on the floor reminded her of something Jackson Pollock would’ve done. If she didn’t clean the paint up, it would stain the tile and Mr. Kane would just about slit her throat. Then her blood and the paint would soak into the floor. She swallowed, looking at the boy again. He still hadn’t moved, and was looking around the room like he had no idea where he was. Evelyn put on her smile, gentle and caring, and offered a paint-splattered hand to the boy. Please take it, She thought desperately.

[__ ADAL !]

no explanation for the things i failed at before.

Adal blinked. His breaths stayed the same terrible, ragged, heaves. His light chocolate eyes were dark now. He stared at his feet. He dropped his hand down gently into the paint surrounding him. He felt as if he had no more enegry. Adal suddenly wanted to just drop down onto the floor and fall asleep. Being a schizophrenic, Adal was drained allot of times from the mentally and physically demanding memories that haunted him. Thunder grumbled closer. The boy shivered. He hated thunderstorms. Now he'd end up walking home in one. Not that he cared. A simple storm was the least of his problems. Getting wet and smelling like a soaked dog didn't even phase him. He'd made a mess and ruined the art section of the school. It was late and most likely people wouldn't be around to see his destruction except...this girl whoever she was. Adal then brought his attention to her. She...was fine. His breath sighed out deep and slightly relieved. He lifted his chin wearily and glanced at her.

“Um.. are you alright?”

Adal jumped at her voice. It was soft and gentle sounding. He hadn't herd a voice like that such a long time. Someone who ...cared? Just a little? He then saw a paint stained hand reach down towards him. Adal's heart skipped a beat. A gesture of...help? He lifted a crimson coloured hand, shakily, and grabbed a gentle hold onto the girls. With her help Adal stood up tiredly and leaned back against the wall. he pulled his hand back and pressed both against the wall. His orbs watched her. Adal swalloed the lump in his throat. He had been so quiet, so alone. He hardly knew how to speak to another person anymore. His soft black hair was matted with paint. It was drying now. He didn't much care though. Adal flicked his eyes to the side nervously. What was he supposed to say? He couldn't help. He needed to get home. But...

"D-do...you need help with...my mess?"

His voice was a smooth honey tone with a hint of shakiness. Always something unstable about him. He would be a normal person. A normal kid. If only that insecurity that he so well knew didn't return. If only. Adal looked at his feet and hummed softly to himself. A slow beat. His head stopped drumming slightly. Eyes showed that welcoming glow for the one thing that would always be stable. Music. Adal paused as he remembered he was just stading...waiting for a reply. He shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm...Adal."

He managed to squeeze the words out from his jaws.

will you hold my hand?

[e v e l y n *]

Evelyn’s eyes wandered around the room. Fear suffocated the air in the room, fear from both of them. What had he been so afraid of, anyways? She frowned, captivated by this little scrawny stick of a boy. Funny how people can do that. She bit her lip, her hand hovering untaken in the air. Awkward, awkward, awkward. That was the only word that ran through her mind – which was why she was slightly startled when she felt the boy take her hand. He was lighter than she thought; she pulled him to his feat with ease. Paint dripped from his body; it made him look like he was slowly slipping away. Interesting concept – must make a note to study further. Evelyn frowned, but tried to keep the worry and disapproval out of her eyes. Her hair blew in the cold breeze that was coming from an open window. A shudder ran up her spine like a spider but she made no move to close the draft. She could deal with it. Evelyn crossed her arms and didn’t look at the boy as he spoke. There was a nervous smile on her lips, the kind you would use with an animal that’s halfway tame. “Your mess?” She echoed softly, a hollow tone to her words.

The sixteen year old blinked dully and rubbed her forehead with a dirty palm; paint outlined the wrinkles there. “No, no... it’s fine. I have all day, anyways.” There was a tiredness to her words; she was hiding the fact that yes, help would be nice, and she didn’t want to spend all day here – but it wasn’t his fault. He looked so terrified. It would be mean to help him clean up. Besides, being so jumpy, he might just make a bigger mess. Yeah. The rain continued to slap against the windows. A brief flash of lightning illuminated the tiny room, and fear twisted to life in Evelyn’s eyes. She hated storms. The pieces of torn canvas rippled like snakes on the paint-covered tiles. She sighed, looking at the barely started masterpiece she had never created – what might have been, but never was. Wouldn’t have been that great, anyways; she barely remembered that sunset. She picked up the canvas and studied it with an artist’s gaze, looking at the vicious claw marks that had destroyed it. Her mind churned something creative, and she put the canvas back on its stand. “Still usable,” She muttered to herself.

Evelyn jumped slightly when the boy spoke again. Adal. What a pretty name… she smiled, a small, soft smile. Her heart leapt. He could be cute when he wasn’t covered in red paint. “I’m sorry about your clothes,” She half-whispered, looking at the floor in shame. “The paint, it isn’t washable.” The girl blinked and pulled her bangs from her face again.

“Evelyn.”

[__ ADAL !]

you keep saying you've had enough.

Adal saw hesitation...then doubt...then weariness. He looked guiltily from the wall he stood pressed against. He slowly sunk down to the ground. He stared at the red paint, drawing a frown in it with the tip of his finger. He looked up to see the girl looking at the canvas lying on the floor. He hadn't noticed the chill or wind until he saw the piece of art flitting in the air, shredded and the goosebumps dotting her arms slightly. He felt even more guilty. Adal pressed his forehead into his palms. The floor was still splattered with paint. The room trashed. The teacher, whoever that might be, would surely blame this girl. Then Adal saw her pick of the painting. He saw what was left of a lovely looking sunset. Wouldn't that have made a nice picture? Not anymore though. He had ruined it. the boy's guilt seemed to be searing him through now.

"No...I think I should stay...Its getting late."

Adal paused. He gulped at looked at the ruins once deemed an art ruin suitable for making wonderful creations in. He was a disaster. A monstrous mess. If anything he should be rightly punished by cleaning the whole room. Adal glanced at the sky outside the window. It was gloomy and the sky was now cackling with a chorus of thunder and lightning.

"And. It's storming outside. I'll...walk you h-home?"

Adal trudged over to a sink and grabbed a large sponge, still filled with water from earlier. He rang it out slightly and started to wipe the floor. “I’m sorry about your clothes...The paint, it isn’t washable. He paused then just shrugged. Silence. Then. Evelyn. So she had a name. Evelyn. He recited it in his mind. He hadn't heard that named used much. He looked up at her. She had a slight smile on her face. Adal stopped. He frowned. He couldn't stay. He couldn't do this. What if he hurt her somehow? What if it was like what he did before. He didn't mean o. He couldn't have known. But they did't care. They said he was a murderer.

Adal squeezed his eyes shut, almost wincing. Like someone had stabbed him. Then it flashed back. The blood. Her cries. Oh, the cries. Adal...h-help..w-why did you do this to me? why baby? He dropped down and backed into a cold corner. Adal's soft voice whispered over and over. Over and over.

"Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?..."

and i know just how you feel. Its eating you alive.

[e v e l y n *]

Evelyn smiled a genuine smile as Adal offered to stay late. That was so sweet of him. She went on picking up all the fallen furniture, slowly watching the thick, syrupy paint roll off. Then, she dragged herself over to the sink and found a fat, moldy sponge that puked dirty suds all over her hands every time she scraped it across the tile. However, she worked hard to finally get the tile clean again; it took longer than she thought. Her eyes seemed focus, but her mind was wandering. When he wasn’t looking, she studied Adal like a curious baby, watching him react to things and the way his eyes darted around the room like he was looking for the bad guy hiding in the corner. In truth, he fascinated her – what she wouldn’t give to find out what made him tick, all the secrets and tragedies that pieced him together. Was it wrong to think about humans like that? Evelyn frowned as she considered this fact, her scrubbing slowing the harder her mind worked. She was focusing more on Adal than anything else. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice her staring; then he would think she’s a creeper. Not good – she had a strong urge to get to know him better.

When most of the paint had been washed away, Evelyn wrung the sponge in the sink and walked back over to where Adal stood, looking him in the eyes but trying not to scare him. There was the slightest flicker of amusement as she listened to the hesitance, but also friendliness in his tones. That is, if she was hearing right. She swallowed, her eyes showing flecks of happiness as she tried to fight a delirious grin. He was so adorable! “That’s sweet of you,” She said, stripping the paint shirt off to reveal a bright blue shirt with Pikachu on it. I choose you? Evelyn grinned and listened to the brewing storm outside. Thunder cackled with its deep baritone voice and lightning made the lights flicker slightly. She bit her lip and took a nervous step away from the windows, feeling the rain sprinkle her arms gently. Yeah, she wanted to close the window – but… well, it was scary!

When she looked back at Adal to accept his offer, she froze for a second. He was curled into a corner, by the looks of it, trying to retract into himself like a turtle. Worry curled in her eyes, mingling with the fear that lay there. She watched him with that pair of green eyes, unsure of what to do. Was this a regular thing with him? How odd. But captivating at the same time… she took a hesitant step; the sound ricocheted off the walls with a roaring ferocity. Evelyn winced, but crept closer, like Adal was a sleeping monster that you wouldn’t dare wake up or it’d tear your head off. Maybe it was the same way. She had no idea, which was why she was being careful. “Adal?” Came the hesitant words from her lips. This was to check if he was still in reality, or if there was something wrong in his head and he was in Adal World. Again, she had absolutely no clue. When she was close enough, Evelyn bent down to his level and put a hand on his knee, gently, uncertainly. Did he liked to be touched? Probably not. But she needed to get through to him somehow. It would be mean to leave him like this.

“Adal?” She repeated his name like a patient mother, though there was a more caring echo to her voice. “I would like it if you walked me home. It’s really sweet of you, you know.” She accompanied this with a smile, a small one, one that had a c’mon-smile-for-me feel to it. As Evelyn’s words hung in the air, the rain and thunder were the only sounds in the empty academy.

[__ ADAL !]

i don't mean to scare you.

Adal's thought blurred with the past. His eyes are squeezed shut. Tears bubbled out of them. What had he done? Why had he done it? He shook violently from the terrible guilt raking him. Now she was dead. She was dead. Adal sobbed, hard and heavy tears. then he felt something. Some hand touched his knee. He jumped and shouted.

"I DIDN'T DO IT! PLEASE JU-"

Then he saw...that girl. her voice was smooth and honey-like. She spoke his name. The boy's soft brown eyes locked onto her. Her face held a smile. A pleading one. She stared at him. He glanced at her hand on his knee. His stomach knotted. she said she wanted to be walked home. No, he couldn't do it. He'd do something stupid. Adal pushed her hand off his knee. He stood up and pressed as far into the corner as he could. His black hair was ratty looking, slopped all over with paint. It was matted here and there. He needed to get home himself. He wasn't okay. He couldn't go on like this.

"N-no. I can't take you home. I-I can't.."

Adal looked at her. Would she be mad? Would she be upset? Would she be hurt? He crouched down like an ashamed animal. He always looked for approval, acceptance. Maybe this girl would be different from everyone else. No. he couldn't think like that. He would get to know her. Get close to her then hurt her. He had done it before. Except..she was ripped from his hands, from his arms. Adal looked up with reddened, teary eyes. He looked straight into her eyes, calm, caring, worried? Adal gulped from a dry mouth.

"Help me?"

but i, i've not been sleeping lately

[e v e l y n *]

Evelyn jumped fiercely has Adal’s shout filled the air. Fear flashed in her eyes and she took a step back, realizing that yes, he wasn’t quite sane. Besides fear, the only thing she felt for him was sympathy or pity, one or the other. It was hard to distinguish the two. She stood up now, looking down at Adal. He shook like a nervous animal and she was sure that if he was a dog he would have his tail between his legs, his ears back and his head low, low, low. He was cute, but he bites, so that was the problem. It’s too bad he wasn’t a dog; animals are so much easier to fix than humans. Evelyn frowned, the fear in Adal’s eyes making her heart throb just a little. Meanwhile, a full-blown storm raged outside like a lion. Rain no longer tapped quietly on the windows, it punched the glass with a force even Rocky Balboa couldn’t match.

As Adal spoke again, Evelyn frowned at the hesitance, the absolute terror she heard in his voice. Her eyes softened at the fear melted away a little as he seemed to return to earth. He did seem a bit shaken up, though. He reminded her of a nervous doe, almost. Maybe if she worked very, very slowly she could finally get to open up, just a little. That would be nice… if it he didn’t, well, she’d just be stuck wondering what might have been. But that wouldn’t happen – she would figure this boy out. She was sure of it. Blinking, Evelyn said, “Oh…” There was an air of disappointment in her words. However, she didn’t let it show for long. “That’s alright.” She added quickly, maybe too quickly. Her eyes fell upon Adal’s skinny body again, waiting for him to do something. Anything. Now, desperation and fear soaked the air like a heavy washcloth. Saysomethingsaysomethingsaysomething. Evelyn chewed on her bottom lip, feeling her throat close up just as Adal spoke again, his words more choking but less fearful, like he had to fight to pull the letters from his vocal cords.

“Help you?” Evelyn echoed immediately, pulling a lock of hair behind her ear. Confusion grew in her eyes and she cocked her head to one side. She didn’t exactly understand. Help him with what? The mess had been picked up, right? To confirm this, she stole a quick glance around the room and found it was relatively clean… suddenly, a thought exploded into her head. Evelyn’s eyes widened as she understood, and her heart skipped a beat or two before she could regain her composure. Her eyes fell to the canvas. Ripped pieces of the fabric hung like corpses from the wooden frame, revealing the canvas stand’s spine and beyond that, the doorway out to the art room. With a smile in her eyes, Evelyn took the torn pieces of canvas and held them up so they fit again, like a puzzle. When the canvas was a whole again, she answered, “Sure. I’d like that.”