Pierre || Ian - Whatever you want.
As he waited for an answer, an almost serene look befell the face of the delivery boy. Well, fuck, Ian thought. But before much else, the serenity was broken by the exclamation from the one in purple. His face contorted in bewilderment. The donut box was thrust into his hands as the delivery boy made his way past, but not before one of the sharp corners of the box dug painfully into his chest. By the petty attempt at revenge it was more than obvious that Pierre had found him and had come for Lyn - not that he went very far in the first place.
Closing and locking the door behind the lavender laced male, Ian turned opening the box of donuts that he had been waiting for. Padding barefoot toward the bed, he stopped a few feet away, still between them and the door, and leaned casually against the wall. Biting into a fresh glazed donut, Ian watched the going-ons between the Montgomery and the little goat. If he were one to admit such things, he would have thought the exchange was comically adorable. Nevertheless, he watched blankly as the two settled together, mechanically shoving the fried dough treat into him mouth. Thinking is over-rated anyway.
As Pierre cleared his throat, Ian was brought out of his trance like state. Licking the glaze from the corners of his mouth, Ian innocently raised an eyebrow. “What, did you say something?” He blinked expectantly, but still raised a sprinkled donut to his lips. A quick, passing thought popped into his head. ‘Brianna is such a bitch. She hates cripples!’ He wasn’t sure where he heard that, but Ian was sure that it was true and that Seyton was right about the promiscuous Armont.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, Ian refocused. No doubt Pierre would try to leave with Lyn, Ian didn’t have the slightest problem with that. But the Montgomery was surely mistaken if he thought he could leave so soon. Ian stood up straighter, though he still rested against the wall supporting most of his weight. Looking first at the small pygmy and then at his roommate, he raised an eyebrow questioningly.
He thought I spoke. Pierre scoffed internally, tensing slightly. Clearly the goat had had enough of his fathers and their outbursts; releasing a sleepy bleat as he stood from Pierre’s lap and stumbled off of the bed, Lyn disappeared from the bedroom and into the bathroom for a well deserved indulgence of toilet water. The sloshing sounds continued and Pierre spoke up in attempt to subdue the revolting image of his prized goat’s tongue slapping against a dirty toilet bowl.
“I- I didn’t speak.” Pierre replied, the heat of his words bubbling over the added fluff in his response. The artificial delivery boy he had come as was undeniably dropped in the hallway. Whatever niceness he has mustered into a believable act with the receptionist had disappeared, possibly burnt out in the shock of coming face-to-face with the two figures most prominent in his life; a goat and fellow Montgomery too high to care about much anything. He could be none other but Pierre Franklin in their presence. Overly-dramatic, abnormal Pierre Franklin who had come seeking revenge, that of which had since dulled into a blunt frustration that no longer held the ability to escalate into wickedness, yet falter at properly processing his feelings toward his current situation.
Pierre looked up. Silent, he brought up his arm out in front of him, leaning forward on the mattress as he tucked two fingers into the front of Ian’s boxer’s, urging him to leave the wall and take the few necessary steps to stand directly in front of him. He relaxed his shoulders and he sat back on the bed, however he kept his grip on Ian’s waistband, using his free hand to unclasp the top buttons of the makeshift delivery boy polo, kicking off his shoes and allowing them to hit the wall behind them. Time came as no threat. They were given all the time in world, as if the school had shut down and allowed them no place to return. Pierre could have sworn that this was it. After this there was nothing else. They were left to repeat this scene from the time he had arrived until, however it came to be, it would it end.
“I want you to tell me what the hell I did wrong Ian.” He spoke sternly,”Was it because I left without explanation? I trusted you with the Lyn. You knew I trusted you with Lyn and you used it against me. I followed you, I’m here. You have me now.” He cleared his throat, licking his lips as searched for a reaction to offset the response in Ian he was desperate for. A fucking answer would be fantastic. “I don’t care how you tell me. How long or short your goddamn explanation is, I just want to know. What the hell did I do wrong?”
(Source: pierrefranklin)
