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Fading_Cards
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Jan 19, 2010
- Location
- East Canada
The place was… stable. At least that was the most flattering thing Cecil, or ‘Ceec’ as everyone called him (“Cecil is sucha grandpa name man” as one of his more articulate roommates had stated) could think about the house he lived in. It was the kind of housing only college students were allowed to live in, not fit for anything else. But! The rent was cheap, which allowed him to spend all of his hard earned money at his part time job as a mail room clerk towards his addiction. Computers. It helped he had the second largest room in the house, just big enough to be divided down the center by patchwork blankets hung from curtain rods. It made a suitable mini living room with his palisade of monitors and wires in one corner, a beaten-but-comfy recliner in the other across from a small tv on top of a mini fridge. The other side was his boxspring and mattress, on the floor, a side table and bookcases against the wall. With a LOT of books. Mostly on mechanics. A hobby of his. It made him decently popular amongst his roommates with cars. Otherwise… well… the place was okay. There was only mildew in the bathrooms, and the walls were decently thick enough you didn’t know EVERY detail of the tryst going on next door. Just some details. The kitchen was of a decent size, and the living room had three couches that had seen better days and a large flat screen tv. Courtesy of one of the newer roomies. As for his … company… eh, they were all right. There was the usual drama, the usual arguments over chores, and the usual parties.
Like right now.
The music was okay. One of the guys Cecil new from one of his computer programming classes thought himself a DJ, but really he just had decent taste in music. There was beer for the guys, bitch pop for the girls and harder stuff for shots or the mixed with cola drink in Cecil’s own hand. He sat at the dining table shoved against the wall with two kegs sitting on top of it, cradling a whisky in one hand as he eyed the rest of the guests in the house. Of a decent height at 5’10, he had broad shoulders with a tapered physique. All long sharp lines from swimming growing up and a metabolism that wouldn’t die. He had long fingered hands covered in tiny scars from machine work and rock climbing as a kid. He had naturally pale peach skin and short platinum blond hair. Nordic features except for two nearly black brown eyes behind thin rimmed glasses. If he wore a scowl he’d look like some evil uppity bitch, but his grin was mellow, slouched halfway down in the chair like he was half made of liquid. Oh, he could be a snippy, sarcastic little bastard when he pleased, but with a glass and a half of whisky and a jagger shot from earlier in his system he was much more content. Let alone that it was the start of a long weekend, and they’d all survived, to some extent, their midterms. So it was party time.
Eyes roving here and there he realized it wasn’t a HUGE party. Just two or three main groups of people, clannish artsy punk types, computer tech guys that were in it for the money (so actually had some social graces), and some ‘Dudes’ that didn’t quiiite make it into the Alpha Beta Kapa. The house was busy, but not choked or over flowing. People were getting drink, but most weren’t getting wasted yet, a few ladies dancing where the furniture was cleared away, but no one was loosing their clothes yet. That figured though, it was still early in the night and he’d heard several people planning on going to a bigger one that was at another guys house later on. Apparently he had more space and a pool. Spoilt little bastard had to wait until his parents left in a few hours first though. That was FINE by the blond, less mess to be cleaned up later and it wasn’t his party anyway. He just kinda… well… LIVED here so he was invited by default. And he brought some moonshine he’d been hiding. A gift from a cousin he wasn’t EVER doing to drink himself anyway. The clannish hoards in the house had already drank half of it.
He did recognise some of the people in the crowds. He’d had small talk with some of them, but they would get distracted or he would dive out of the conversation before his brain died. Shayla, a dark complexioned girl from New York, was one of his best friends so far in the past two years of college life, had been there earlier with her boyfriend. They’d talked and made rude jokes for awhile before she left a few minutes previous to now, friskily pawing at her man. As usual. He was glad she hadn’t brought up her attraction to him yet, and hopefully never would. Her family would have a conniption fit if she brought a white boy home, and he loved her dearly as she was, but her sharp jabbing attitude that made them such good friends turned him off as far as that was concerned. He knew her temper. He was NOT going to put up with that as her fuck toy. It didn’t help he would probably rather make tongue with some of her exes. She still didn’t seem to quite GET what he meant when he told her he was bi the second year of them hanging out together.
“But you, like, barely date Ceec.” A joking tone lighting up her amber eyes.
“Being Bi doesn’t mean you’re a slutty Mc’Sluttypants Shayla,” he pointed out, “It just means I fancy and have had fun with both sexes, and like the option when I feel like it.”
She smirked broadly. “Aww, you’re just a romantic then? Find your one true love and all that rot.”
He’d nearly snorted the fries he’d been eating at the time into his nose. “No, don’t be retarded. Just means I go with my INSTINCT. I don’t want to fuck’em, I don’t. I do and they do, we do. Get it?”
“Pffft. Whatever Ceec,” she brushed it off, “Instinct. Right. Makes you sound like an animal.”
They had left it at that.
But she was gone and, for now, he was content to relax next to the booze and chat to whomever came buy for longer then a refill. It was a good night, and it was going to get better… he could feel it.
Like right now.
The music was okay. One of the guys Cecil new from one of his computer programming classes thought himself a DJ, but really he just had decent taste in music. There was beer for the guys, bitch pop for the girls and harder stuff for shots or the mixed with cola drink in Cecil’s own hand. He sat at the dining table shoved against the wall with two kegs sitting on top of it, cradling a whisky in one hand as he eyed the rest of the guests in the house. Of a decent height at 5’10, he had broad shoulders with a tapered physique. All long sharp lines from swimming growing up and a metabolism that wouldn’t die. He had long fingered hands covered in tiny scars from machine work and rock climbing as a kid. He had naturally pale peach skin and short platinum blond hair. Nordic features except for two nearly black brown eyes behind thin rimmed glasses. If he wore a scowl he’d look like some evil uppity bitch, but his grin was mellow, slouched halfway down in the chair like he was half made of liquid. Oh, he could be a snippy, sarcastic little bastard when he pleased, but with a glass and a half of whisky and a jagger shot from earlier in his system he was much more content. Let alone that it was the start of a long weekend, and they’d all survived, to some extent, their midterms. So it was party time.
Eyes roving here and there he realized it wasn’t a HUGE party. Just two or three main groups of people, clannish artsy punk types, computer tech guys that were in it for the money (so actually had some social graces), and some ‘Dudes’ that didn’t quiiite make it into the Alpha Beta Kapa. The house was busy, but not choked or over flowing. People were getting drink, but most weren’t getting wasted yet, a few ladies dancing where the furniture was cleared away, but no one was loosing their clothes yet. That figured though, it was still early in the night and he’d heard several people planning on going to a bigger one that was at another guys house later on. Apparently he had more space and a pool. Spoilt little bastard had to wait until his parents left in a few hours first though. That was FINE by the blond, less mess to be cleaned up later and it wasn’t his party anyway. He just kinda… well… LIVED here so he was invited by default. And he brought some moonshine he’d been hiding. A gift from a cousin he wasn’t EVER doing to drink himself anyway. The clannish hoards in the house had already drank half of it.
He did recognise some of the people in the crowds. He’d had small talk with some of them, but they would get distracted or he would dive out of the conversation before his brain died. Shayla, a dark complexioned girl from New York, was one of his best friends so far in the past two years of college life, had been there earlier with her boyfriend. They’d talked and made rude jokes for awhile before she left a few minutes previous to now, friskily pawing at her man. As usual. He was glad she hadn’t brought up her attraction to him yet, and hopefully never would. Her family would have a conniption fit if she brought a white boy home, and he loved her dearly as she was, but her sharp jabbing attitude that made them such good friends turned him off as far as that was concerned. He knew her temper. He was NOT going to put up with that as her fuck toy. It didn’t help he would probably rather make tongue with some of her exes. She still didn’t seem to quite GET what he meant when he told her he was bi the second year of them hanging out together.
“But you, like, barely date Ceec.” A joking tone lighting up her amber eyes.
“Being Bi doesn’t mean you’re a slutty Mc’Sluttypants Shayla,” he pointed out, “It just means I fancy and have had fun with both sexes, and like the option when I feel like it.”
She smirked broadly. “Aww, you’re just a romantic then? Find your one true love and all that rot.”
He’d nearly snorted the fries he’d been eating at the time into his nose. “No, don’t be retarded. Just means I go with my INSTINCT. I don’t want to fuck’em, I don’t. I do and they do, we do. Get it?”
“Pffft. Whatever Ceec,” she brushed it off, “Instinct. Right. Makes you sound like an animal.”
They had left it at that.
But she was gone and, for now, he was content to relax next to the booze and chat to whomever came buy for longer then a refill. It was a good night, and it was going to get better… he could feel it.
