"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Rorick Skyve
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((Maxim Kehlenbrink continued from Hearts of Irony))

Finally. How long had he waited now, standing secludedly, watching the two? Far too long, that was for certain. But still, he preferred this over the alternative, over having to approach Cristo and risk being pulled into a conversation with another person that way, one he didn't know one thing about to boot. The guy looked like he was involved with sports, already told him enough, namely that he had no desire to converse with him on that topic. Hell, judging from what he had just accomplished, he probably did nothing else besides sports in his life. Empty-headed, all brawn and no brains, a typical jock. Yes, definitely no one he would have wanted to get involved with.

So he had waited, twiddled his thumbs, praying that Cristo would finally break loose from the other boy and wander off alone, giving him a chance to finally talk to him. He had wanted to talk to him all afternoon, probably even longer than that, in fact. Something burning in his mind, questions waiting to be asked. The fact that he was actually willing to go to such lengths just to converse with his friend - clearly, he had to be fond of him, at least somewhat. These days, it was every so often that he seriously doubted if he even enjoyed the company of human beings at all. Exaggerated, yes, but not even that much.

And even though the last line of events had been...unusual, to say the least, stunning probably was the better term here, he still felt no need to bring himself into that situation. Yes, the other guy was visibly injured, but it wasn't like he was going to die if Maxim hadn't intervened. Could go and patch himself up, go to the school nurse, anything. Was a grown man after all. None of his business.

He turned his attention away from the injured one and looked back towards where his friend had walked off to. Cristo had sat down, all by himself. Perfect opportunity. Though Maxim did regret having to sit beside him now, somewhere out in the open, unshielded from curious eyes, he still deemed it to be the lesser evil. Laying in wait even longer would have exceeded even his steeled patience, no, approaching him now was the right step, no doubt.

A hand in his pocket, the other hanging limply beside his body, he started to walk towards the boy in the grass. The scene almost had something esthetically pleasing, he had to admit. Rays of the sun, the lush green of the grass and...well, Cristo sitting there. An actual artist could have described it far better, no doubt.

Many slow steps later, he stood directly behind his pal, who didn't seem to have noticed his presence yet. Was he shaking? Something did seem to be off about it him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Even from behind, that much was obvious. It was enough for Maxim to briefly consider walking off and leaving the boy to his troubles, but he quickly dismissed that. Still enough room to retreat later. He had a right to talk to his boy here and now and he would exercise it, plain and simple.

He cleared his throat, hoping this would be enough to get Cristo's attention. Deeming it too low in volume a mere second after, he immediately repeated it, louder this time.
Edited by Rorick Skyve, Aug 6 2016, 08:05 AM.
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