4 posts tagged “tybalt”
Tybalt stayed after again on the last day of class, walking up to Dr. Evelinne's desk and setting down a six pack of the strawberry tea on the desk. "Merry Christmas, Doc."
Alice looked up at the tea and then past it at Tybalt and smiled to him. "Thank you. Do you have plans for Christmas?"
Ty smiled and adjusted his backpack, shaking his head a little. "Not really. I'll probably curl up with some hot chocolate and a decent book or something." He smiled teasingly. "Or, now that I don't have to concentrate on mentality anymore, I could follow up on some of this mafia business..."
"Tybalt, there is no such thing as the Irish mafia."
"Does that mean I didn't get a good grade on my paper?"
Alice put her hands on her hips and gave him a Look. "The paper is graded objectively, not subjectively. But honestly, it's a dangerous little obsession to have."
"I am not obsessed. I just think it's fascinating. Did you know their head guy, Alabaster, died the same day they found you in Africa after your car accident?" He smiled mildly at her.
Alice tensed a little. "Nonsense, that was over thirty years ago. Are you saying I look old?"
Ty laughed a little. "Never. Well, I better get going."
"Hey, Ty?" Alice said as he turned his back.
"Hm?" He looked back at her.
"You're not really going to be alone for Christmas, are you?"
Ty smiled. "Of course not, my roommates are sticking around, too."
"You don't have any roommates," Alice said before she remembered that Alice hadn't ever been to Tybalt's apartment. "You never mentioned any roommates before."
Ty quirked a brow to her. "Oh, haven't I? I do. I share my apartment with a male and a female. We'll probably all curl up together to wait for Santa."
Alice smiled a little. "Nobody should be alone on Christmas, Tybalt, remember that, okay?"
"I will. Have a good Christmas, Dr. Evelinne. And make sure you take your own advice." He waved and hurried out the door.
"Please, not again!"
The anguished wail echoed in the darkness, stretching out all through the void and then wrapping back around Tyler. He was crying, his face in his hands.
Every time, he thought miserably, again!
He looked blearily through his tears at Purgatory, just the wide, empty void that stretched out around him. He'd been Tybalt this time. He'd liked being Tybalt, though he could have done without the curls; well, you couldn't really say much about genetics.
Tybalt had done all right, really. Relatively normal home life, even if it had been a foster home. He was in college, wasn't insanely unpopular, but more than that, he'd had...
Al. Again. Gods, how many times over the centuries have I run into him? And every time, I'm head over heels.H
And every time it hurts. He gave a pathetic moan and wrapped his arms around himself. Twenty six was about his cut-off limit. He couldn't seem to get past it. Tyler did. But just the once. It didn't really bother him that he died early: he never had to worry about losing his sight or memory or hair. Dying early might be considered a good thing, after all. But his deaths were always so damn violent.
He'd died 3 times in different wars. At least twice of cancer: and not the kind of cancer that let you drift peacefully away in your sleep; it was the kind of cancer that made you want to stab yourself just to ease the pain. Then he'd been killed with a sword. Suicided a couple times.
And then the car accident. It was a bloody angel! Damn it! If it was Haniel, I swear I'll tear every feather from his body!
He'd been alive when the car burst into flames, and he could swear someone had been holding the seatbelt so that he couldn't unbuckle it.
He shuddered. Burning to death was not a way he wanted to go again.
"I CAN'T KEEP DYING LIKE THIS!" he yelled at the void as he shivered and looked at his arms to make sure the burn scars weren't there anymore.
Why? Why can't things ever just work out? It's not fair! "It's not fair!" he yelled to anyone that might be able to hear him. He doubted anyone else was here. Most people moved on. But he couldn't. He couldn't go anywhere but here or back to the human world, where he'd just meet Al and die all over again.... painfully.
"I can't," he told himself, folding himself into a sitting position on the nothingness around him, his arms wrapping tightly around his knees. "Not yet. Please not yet."
If he sat here long enough, he was sure he could go back, and would. If, for nothing else, to check on Al. Ever since he'd first seen the demon over two hundred years ago, he'd crossed paths with him at least once every lifetime. Sometimes that's the only reason he kept going back, though he was sure that after a time they'd send him back anyway, but he usually went back to see Al again before it got to that point.
I ought to stop that. I feel like some weird stalker every time I get back here after seeing him again. I doubt he's even noticed. I mean, I'm sure a part of him has. When I was Tybalt, I think he knew it was me, but he probably hasn't caught on that I see him every time.
This is some punishment. I'm doing something wrong. And I must be doing something so terrible that I can't even finish doing it, so I die again and have to start over.
"Can you at least give me a hint?" Well, maybe he didn't want a hint. If it turned out he wasn't supposed to see Al every time, then too bad, he'd keep making that mistake. It was a mistake he liked. Loved, even. And even when it was nothing more than a cursury glance on a subway, it let him come back here knowing that Al was still alive. Still well. And still Al.
Meh. I don't think this conversation would ever take place, but it popped into my head, so I wrote it out anyway.
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Tybalt was on his last dregs. It was nearly the end of the semester, which meant term papers, essays, tests, quizzes, reviews, and study groups. And not just his own. Business was booming. He had more stacks of other peoples' assignments on his desk at the apartment than he knew what to do with.
All of that meant, of course, that he was getting about two hours of sleep a night, and looked like the walking dead. It was a wonder that he didn't show up to class still in his pajamas.
He was on break. His next class wasn't for another hour, but he hadn't felt safe enough to run home and catch a nap, because he was positive he wouldn't wake up in time. So he had commondeered a table in the dining hall, where he was currently editing an essay on the history of sanskrit, and that was doing nothing for his attention span, or his exhaustion.
"I don't know," a boy in a letterman's jacket was saying to the boy beside him. "It's like he's fine, and then someone will say something and all of a sudden he'll just shoot out of the room like he has a nose-bleed or something. And it's all the time. He'll just get all red and leave."
Tybalt perked his ears, but tried to concentrate. He had to get this done, he'd promised it back by Friday.
"Maybe he's just a spaz."
Ty turned his head, resting his cheek on his palm. "It's a defense mechanism."
Both boys turned to stare at him. "Say what?" the second boy said.
Ty rubbed his temple. "A defense mechanism. When he gets overwhelmed, scared, stressed, or embarrassed, he shuts down. It's some kind of coping devise. Some people yell, some run away, some go silent, some fight. We all have them. It's an instinct thing, goes back to the neanderthals. It's comparative to how people play dead around bears-it's a way to survive."
They both looked at him for a minute and then the first one got angry. Maybe it was because Ty had sounded so bored, maybe it was frustrations with exams, maybe it was frustration with the roommate. Whatever it was, Ty had suddenly piqued a sort of quiet rage in the bigger boy, who slammed his hands down on the table and leaned down, glaring at him angrily.
"And how are you going to survive today? Because I'm about to put you in a world of hurt, Four-Eyes."
Tybalt's exhaustion had shortened his temper and he stood in a quick motion. "How about I just kick your ass?"
Both of the letterman-sporting boys looked him over: the black cap complete with loose curls, glasses, short stature, thin frame, and small hands. The second boy started to laugh, the first grabbed the front of Ty's sweatshirt. "You mocking me, Four-Eyes?"
Exhaustion cleared for a split second and Ty realized he was in a very bad place and that it was all his fault, but he couldn't back down or he'd get his ass kicked and lose all dignity. If he didn't back down, at least he wouldn't be a coward. He opened his mouth to voice a retort, when a familiar voice cut in.
"Tybalt!"
All three boys turned and saw Alice Evelinne, who was glaring at Tybalt. "Mr. Prentiss, we had an appointment."
Tybalt recognized the save and immediately swallowed and blushed as the other boy let go of him. "I'm sorry, Dr. Evelinne."
"I do not like my time being wasted. You were set to see me half an hour ago about your outline and when you make an appointment, I expect it to be kept."
"Yes, ma'am."
The other two boys were grinning stupidly, but neither Ty or Alice looked at them. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go, now. I won't have you taking up any more of my time than necessary."
Ty blushed brighter and quickly grabbed his papers, stuffing them into his backpack and flinging it onto his shoulder. He fell into step beside and slightly behind his teacher in an obvious show of subservience, and didn't look back or speak until they were out of the dining hall. Once they were clear, he sighed a little.
"Thanks," he said, not even bothering to keep the exhaustion and relief from his voice.
"Would you have just let them beat you up?"
Ty blushed a little. "I would have tried to fight back, but in the end, yes, pretty much. It was futile to start with, I just didn't realize it until after my nerves snapped."
"You look like shit."
"Thanks." Was now a good time? No. Not yet. He was still strung too tightly, he wasn't thinking straight. When he took what he'd found to Dr. Evelinne, he wanted to be calm and able to back up whatever he was saying. Right now, he wasn't even sure of what he was saying. He sighed wearily.
"Want to step out and get some coffee?"
"Oh, bless you, teacher mine," he said with a laugh. "Do they serve IVs?"
"I doubt the IV would help you much right now. What you need is to be bludgeoned upside the head so that you get some sleep."
"Sleep... I think I remember what that is... It's that thing that happens after that other thing that never happens to me... I think that one started with an S, too."
"Syphillus? Scurvy? Shingles?"
"Well, thankfully none of those have happened, either." He said with a little laugh.
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I originally was going to end this as soon as they got out of the cafeteria, but my sleep-deprived brain kept going, but I think I'll stop here with horrible diseases that nobody wants.
