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Viewing Single Post From: This Isn't My Home, It's Where I'm Locked Away
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Who is this sassy lost child
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And then Alvaro was just gone.

Just like that.

Jae took one stumbling step after him, and then the pain really hit him and he had to drop the baton and grab onto the bed frame with his good hand to keep from collapsing. Holy fucking shit.

He was breathing harder than he thought he ever had in his life, and he could feel the beginnings of another coughing fit in the pit of his chest. When he finally did double over to hack again, his whole body shook. Blood dripped from the gash on his face and made a small collection of dots on the floor. Jae watched the tiny puddles form, thinking bizarrely of the dot art project they'd had to do in Mrs. Liberman's class.

Holy fucking shit.

Everything was quiet again, too quiet, weighing down on him. It was quiet enough that he was starting to really think again.

He needed to get the hell out of here.

Gingerly, favoring his hurt knee, Jae stepped through the mess on the floor to retrieve his baton and bag. It was awkward using just one arm, but he kept the left one tucked close against his chest to avoid jarring his broken hand again. He needed to do something about that, about everything else, and soon. As soon as he was somewhere else, somewhere safe.

No sign of Alvaro in the hallway. Good. Wherever they were both headed, he hoped it was far, far in the opposite direction.

Like Alvaro though, Jae didn't look back.

((Min-jae Parker continued in デビュー))
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."

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