Tony is staring at the ceiling, lying on the bed, clothes still on. It didn’t happen last night. He couldn’t let it happen. They kissed and went so far as to reach the bed, but it was Tony who pulled away, Tony who said he couldn’t do it no matter how bad he had wanted it. He was frustrated at his own inability to overcome something as ( Read more... )

Tony is an extrovert. He's motivated by people. He isn't the most outgoing guy, no, because some say he's shy and others say he's quiet. But he's always liked people, always liked talking with them, always liked being around them. Until today ( Read more... )

Sometime after his argument with Kim, Tony reemerges at the bar and orders a room key. He must rest before his shift tonight, and with Michelle in the same room he doubted sleep would be easy. A new room was necessary just for a few days, just to let the steam subside and the heads cool to allow for actual conversation ( Read more... )

Out by the lake, underneath a willow tree, there's a human being at rest. He's curled up on the grass, his eyes closed. He is asleep ( Read more... )

Tony is outside by the lake, under his tree, staring out at the water and the stars reflecting on it ( Read more... )

Tony is on the couch.

Tony is on the couch because, yet again, he can't fall asleep, not without having bad dreams. He didn't think the news of Jack's death could effect him so much, but now everything is an irritation to him. Even his dreams.

He stares at the television set. It's Lord of the Rings this time. A pity he's too bothered to pay ( Read more... )

He’s found himself in the bathroom again, waiting out the storm. He knows it’s coming. He knew it was coming since the dinner, talking to Kim, talking to Teri… Things kept flashing across his mind, his mood kept falling down ( Read more... )

( Journal Entry, Sat, March 12, 1:03 P.M. )

Tony's in the bathtub. The bed is gone, along with everything else. There's nothing in his room except a book. The door is unlocked from the outside.

Tony enters his room. His hand is bleeding. He tears off a peice of his sleeve and wraps it tightly, slowly around the hand. He turns and faces his bed. Maybe he should go to sleep. Forever. Sleep forever. He'd like that very much ( Read more... )