{{ LLP.

[Regan Schuyler Black]

After a long night of tossing and turning and the rather sad fact that he couldn't get to sleep, he finally just got up. Getting a few hours of on and off sleep was better than not getting any at all, besides, he felt slightly energized – it would just take a nice cup of coffee to make him fully function. So, a coffee, that's what he had planned himself, and he planned to give himself that simple pleasure. That's right, as soon as he had gotten up and headed toward the shower he had decided he would treat himself to coffee. It would be a fun-filled day with laughter. Granted, everyday was a fun-filled day for him.

Regan pulled on a scarf, draping it around his neck casually. The temperature had dropped quite a bit from yesterday's rather warm day, now it was only in the low forties, so it called for a scarf and some gloves – and the coffee would be nice, too. His chocolate brown hair was in his face, as usual, and styled in the typical 'emo' way, with it reaching the nape of his neck and all. He loved his hair at this length, but he'd probably end up cutting it, just because he would want to eventually. For now, it remained. His sapphire colored eyes were traced in black eyeliner, making them pop a little more – though, he didn't put too much, so that was good, too. Regan was just good with hair and make-up, it came naturally to him, he could probably do it for a living, but he was a student, still, deciding on a future career was only around the corner, but he had a little more time to just think about everything.

Walking to down town never took that long, and he knew a few short cuts here and there that cut down on waiting at stop lights to cross the street, etc. He crossed his arms over his chest as he walked, the black hoodie with the words BABYCAKES on them was big and bulky, but it was keeping him warm; he was dressed casually, today, with a few hints of formal – the nice scarf, he supposed you could say. His skinny jeans clung to his legs, keeping them warm, and on his feet he had a pair of black converse, which were a little beat up – he'd had them for three years now.

Turning a corner he reached down town, a smile now on his face as he made his way toward the Starbucks. He could already smell it in the air, which made him a little excited because he knew he would be awake. He skipped toward it, gathering a few stares from people, to whom he waved and said a happy hello. He walked into the coffee shop and looked around. He ordered his drink – a white chocolate mocha with soy milk instead of the regular stuff – and, once he obtained the coffee, he sat down in a comfortable looking chair and looked out the window, his eyes watching the random people walking by. Many of those people looked as if they hadn't a care in the world, which was something he wished he could feel. He was happy, true, but at the same time it was all a faηade, one he wished he could change, but couldn't.

Now, the only thing that could make this even better was if there was someone to talk to. So, maybe that would come true. Maybe not, only time will tell.

[Dixon Peter Strickland]

Dixie never got up very early when he didn't have to do anything. He'd awakened to the chirping of birds outside his dorm window - a loud chattering that penetrated the glass pane. He sighed and threw the covers off a boxer-clad, fit form, stretching before moving into a standing position. It was dim in the room, the only light filtered through a thin curtain draped over the window. He sighed and made a soft, tired grumble in the back of his throat, pushing his palms against the small of his back and popping it. He snatched a green and white polo off the floor, sniffed it, and tossed it to the side, wrinkling his nose. Trotting over to a basket full of clean clothes, he fished through it before he found a plain white t-shirt. He pulled it on over his bare chest and grabbed a pair of faded, tight jeans off the floor, before locating the jeans he'd worn yesterday and pulling the belt out of the loops - a studded one - to weave through the current ones.

That being done, he tugged the curtain to the side and opened the window, increasing the volume of the annoying birds, and blanched at the burst of cold air. He shut it once more, closed the curtain, and began hunting around for a clean sweater. He found one after awhile, a zip-up hoodie lined with goose down feathers his mother had sent to him, tugging it on and zipping it to the neck. He slipped into a pair of white Vans, the kick sort, and pushed the door open.

He walked downtown now, simply looking for something to do. Used to walking long distances ( never running, for that'd trigger the shortage of breath, the annoying handicap that ocurred even after the first few feet. He messed with his hair, smooting it, running his fingers through it and cursing himself for not fixing it. It looked half-decent when he neared Starbucks, deciding to hop in for a coffee to defeat his morning moodiness. He entered, shuffled across and ordered an iced cappuchino (( I probably spelled that wrong... tired... )) before turning around and spotting the ever-cheerful ever-gorgeous Regan, seated. He decided to stay for awhile at least - he was close enough friends with the other boy. Well, they'd talked a few times at least. He sipped his drink, which didn't help the chill that remained from the outside air.

"Yo." was the greeting, a tug at the zipper on his jacket following, and forseeing the removal of it as he stole a chair near Regan. "Well, fancy seeing you here," he remarked, cocking an eyebrow; Regan looked quite - too - cheerful.

[Regan Schuyler Black]

Regan continued to sip on his drink, the warm liquid filling his throat, warming himself up as the temperature started to come back inside. Thankfully, Starbucks was usually warm; otherwise he might actually be shivering inside. That wouldn't be too nice, either. The smile still remained on his face, though, like it usually did when he was trying to forget painful memories. He seemed to think that if he fooled everyone by smiling, that maybe one day he could fool himself into it as well. He was unsuccessful so far; therefore he was trying harder to fool himself. At times he felt like he was falling for his own deceitful ways, but then his mind would pull him back and give him a slap in the face, showing him how life really was. Sure, he was at an all male boarding school, which was considerably packed with homosexual people, but that didn't mean he wanted them. He had this thing about being touched, kind of, from a long time ago when things went down hill for him. It still haunted him, but he tried not to let it get to him. He failed at that, too, though.

A frown over came his face, but he filled it up with a smile once more. He amused himself as his index finger began to trace little patterns in the table that was in front of him. He didn't want his mind to wander, but he couldn't help it. He remembered the real reasons why he was at the school. His father had found out that he was homosexual, that he liked the same sex as his own, and it freaked him out. There were two choices that he could choose from. One, go to the psychiatric hospital and try to get cured that way, and still have the support of his family, but not be who he really was. Second, go to Saint Kristoph's School for Boys, get basically caught off from the family – except the money that he would need, of course, and be whoever he wanted to be. At first he tried the hospital, but he hated it, so here he was now. Virtually alone in this world that intimidated him all the time, he wasn't sure how he was going to keep on surviving, especially when no one was there to lean on.

He could feel it coming now, the pain. The desperate need for release and of some form of relaxation. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to have that, not here in this public place, where people could watch as he broke down. No, he had to be strong. Relax, calm down, you're fine. He told himself, biting his lip and then sipping on his coffee. He forced the smile to come back to his lips, though he could tell that it was fake, though his fake smiles were so convincing these days, it didn't even matter. To be fake was to be human, it was all that he could conjure up at the moment. Being truthful and realistic would just consume too much valuable energy that he couldn't afford to waste.

A voice filled his ears, a familiar one, and his head snapped up as Dixon Strickland made his way toward the table. He smiled at him, genuinely happy to see a familiar face, and to top it off, Dixie was rather attractive. "Is it so strange to see me out of the school and in a public place? Or do you not see me as the coffee kind of guy?" He asked him, cocking an eyebrow, smiling at him.

[Dixon Peter Strickland]

Sipping on his drink, the boy waited for a response from the other. As he did, he watched the people around them - reading, looking calmish. It soothed him a little. Dixie settled a little more comfortably into the chair, eyes now on Regan as he spoke. A small smirk pulled at his mouth, and scratching at the soft cup in his hand he shrugged and replied, "Meh, well... y'know, if you're a regular in here I wouldn't notice. I think this is the first time I've been in this place for a month. Coffee's never been a huge thing for me. Tastes worse than sweaty cooch sometimes."

Despite the vulgar, rather repulsive statement he'd made, he calmly sipped more of his drink, which chilled his teeth and tongue as it slipped down his throat, the strong aftertaste residing on the back of his tongue.

"Come to think of it, I don't see you anywhere outside of school. If I didn't know a hundred times better, I'd say you were avoiding me. But of course, who could?" he smirked once more and brushed his hand through his hair, before letting them spill over his face once again.

"So," he brushed his hair from his face once more, "What's shakin'? Gotta be bored to wander in here, don't you? I know I was." he glanced up at the ceiling before his eyes were back on Regan.

[Regan Schuyler Black]

Regan just watched as Dix made it his duty to make him talk. It was annoying, but welcoming as well. He liked the fact that the male was persistent, and not in an annoying way, yet. He sipped on his coffee, disgusted at the use of the word cooch. It was disgusting, girl parts were just ew to him. "You know, you've got the dirtiest mouth ever, I swear, it's gross." He shuddered and looked away from the male, trying to see what his reaction would be at him being slightly called out.

"I don't really come here too often, only when I need to get out of the school, which I did today, and yesterday, and a lot of days before that, too." He stated, nodding hs head. His sapphire eyes closed as he felt the coffee burn his throat. He winced a little, but got over it quickly. He could handle pain, though it sometimes showed on his face. He tried to make it so he didn't show it, though. He succeeded sometimes.

"I'm bored, as you've correctly guessed. I'm guessing you're bored as well?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

[Dixon Peter Strickland]

Dix grinned. He didn't resent the comment - in fact, he took pride in it. Of course he had a dirty mouth - he had since he was twelve. Ever since he'd gotten that dog he'd named Fucker...

He winced. That reminded him, he'd forgotten to give Sid some food. Dixon was a little annoyed with himself. Whenever Sid got hungry, he'd fiddle with his cage, get out and go through Dix's stuff until he found something yummy. That's why he didn't have anyone living with him. The last roomate he'd had had given him a choice - Sid, or him. The guy's things were packed up and in his car in the next two hours. Dixie couldn't bear to get rid of his mini-me.

"But according to most, it's my most admirable trait," he defended himself with a grin, "You have to admit, it makes me an individual. AND, since there aren't many of those -" he'd immersed himself partially in carving a design into his cup with his fingernail, which he exposed more by pulling on the ball of his finger."- you should love me for it. And cherish my vulgar... ity..." his voice trailed off and his finger stopped moving as he examined the design he'd made - 'hello, i am a cu' "...Er, uh, vulgarishness? I dunno, anyway..." he finished it; 'hello, i am a cup.'"... cherish it or get over it, either one."

He examined the finished result and sipped his coffee again.

"Well, I could try and censor my wording a little bit, but it'd cost you..." he added, winking at him, "And you may have to deal with some - ahem - mature content first." a devilish smirk followed the statement. He quickly added, "Kidding," tongue poking a centimeter out of the side of his mouth, before he moved on.

"I don't really come here too often, only when I need to get out of the school, which I did today, and yesterday, and a lot of days before that, too."

This brought a soft chuckle from Dix's lips, a crooked smile remaining as it died out.

"I hate," he began, "That school. I don't like... being cooped up in there that long."

"I'm bored, as you've correctly guessed. I'm guessing you're bored as well?"

"Well, obviously I'm not bored now," he replied, "But, before, yeah. Like I said, I don't like being trapped in that school for too long. It's like... Rosie O'Donnel sitting on your face for a day when you have to stay there. Minus the smell, the hair, and the blood..." he wrinkled his nose, "On a good day, at least."

He had no idea that he made little sense to anyone but himeself.

"So..." he paused, "... Regan. Hm... wanna go do it in the bathroom or something?" there was a certain twinkle in his eye and a hint to his grin that said he was kidding.