Trouble
WHO: The Doctor, His Secretary, The Lover
WHEN: June the fourth, late afternoon
WHERE: The Office
WHAT: Pulling out the truth behind a puzzling abduction.
RATING: A for anything can/will happen
He had never meant to cause them trouble. He had never meant to do them wrong, and when he did manage to cause them trouble, he never- at least- meant to do them harm. For as much as he tried to avoid it however, Raivis had inflicted damage on the ones he loved and after simply two months passing, the brittleness his absence had caused had widened like moisture in the concrete. Expanding, cracking, destroying. His mind, though pockets of clarity surfaced occasionally, felt perpetually suspended above that reality. Wrapped in the fine, cloying strands of a spider web where no matter the intensity of his thrashing, it remained intact. Turn the world dreamlike regardless of where he was, what he was doing, who he was with and finally, finally, he had had enough.
The clock in the kitchen had chimed its four lonely notes and Raivis, hastily garbed, wrecked from a night of little rest, slid liquidly out of apartment 403 with a gait far too quick for his sleep addled limbs.
They carried him through town despite their wavering strength. Across crosswalks, through pedestrian traffic, up minor patches of stairs, inside doors that nearly killed him on their outward swing, into an elevator, right to the door emblazoned with I. Braginski, Phd in its accusatory, sharp Gothic font. The same door that had partially shaken him from his deep stupor all those weeks before, threatened to do similarly now.
His palm warmed the handle, but did not turn it.
Peter would come, soon. It meant a nervous smile, the pressing down of erratic locks of hair as he approached. A little more welcoming, a lot less doomed man walking, but the hallway at the moment was bare and instinct- that base little thing- demanded he get back to his job and stop wasting time.
Raivis took his hand away, pivoted in place, leaned his back to the wall beside the office's entrance. He would wait. For all that he wanted to unravel the web curling around his brain and pluck up the piece of him too enshrouded to see, he would wait. To Peter, he owed at least that much. To the doctor-
A debt that could never be paid.
WHEN: June the fourth, late afternoon
WHERE: The Office
WHAT: Pulling out the truth behind a puzzling abduction.
RATING: A for anything can/will happen
He had never meant to cause them trouble. He had never meant to do them wrong, and when he did manage to cause them trouble, he never- at least- meant to do them harm. For as much as he tried to avoid it however, Raivis had inflicted damage on the ones he loved and after simply two months passing, the brittleness his absence had caused had widened like moisture in the concrete. Expanding, cracking, destroying. His mind, though pockets of clarity surfaced occasionally, felt perpetually suspended above that reality. Wrapped in the fine, cloying strands of a spider web where no matter the intensity of his thrashing, it remained intact. Turn the world dreamlike regardless of where he was, what he was doing, who he was with and finally, finally, he had had enough.
The clock in the kitchen had chimed its four lonely notes and Raivis, hastily garbed, wrecked from a night of little rest, slid liquidly out of apartment 403 with a gait far too quick for his sleep addled limbs.
They carried him through town despite their wavering strength. Across crosswalks, through pedestrian traffic, up minor patches of stairs, inside doors that nearly killed him on their outward swing, into an elevator, right to the door emblazoned with I. Braginski, Phd in its accusatory, sharp Gothic font. The same door that had partially shaken him from his deep stupor all those weeks before, threatened to do similarly now.
His palm warmed the handle, but did not turn it.
Peter would come, soon. It meant a nervous smile, the pressing down of erratic locks of hair as he approached. A little more welcoming, a lot less doomed man walking, but the hallway at the moment was bare and instinct- that base little thing- demanded he get back to his job and stop wasting time.
Raivis took his hand away, pivoted in place, leaned his back to the wall beside the office's entrance. He would wait. For all that he wanted to unravel the web curling around his brain and pluck up the piece of him too enshrouded to see, he would wait. To Peter, he owed at least that much. To the doctor-
A debt that could never be paid.