keep me in mind {alger/copper}

[Python]

[presto] y o u r     w a l l s     a r e     u p [/presto]
[presto] n i n e t e e n [/presto]	[presto] A L G E R N O N   L O U V E T It happened like it would in the movies; on a moonlit evening in front of the park, with the protagonist dressed in extravagance. Citizens of The Capitol could always depend on someone hosting a ball on a Saturday evening, if not more. The proposal for the evening was to meet Lola – his pride and joy and girlfriend of four months – in front of the marble fountain, then escort her to the event with their arms interlocked. In Lamen’s terms, it was a date night, and anyone who knew Algernon Louvet knew that date nights were one of his favorite luxuries. The ball was in honor of some wealthy girl – not nearly as wealthy as the Fenwicks, hence why her surname was foreign to him – and her coming of age slash engagement. Why they had decided to mesh both celebrations into one ball was beyond him. He would milk as many parties as he could out of that life. The night was warm and humid, not unlike the misty aftertaste of a spring shower. The nearest streetlight cast his shadow across winking fountain water, and the rush of the waterfalls silenced the hoots of owls and songs of crickets. Algernon smoothed the fabric of his suit and checked his watch a fifth time. It was unlike Lola to be more than two minutes late. Was she walking in heels? That could explain the timing. Or maybe she had dropped an earring. She was always losing her jewelry, and he had lost count of how times they had ended up on their hands and knees, ducking under furniture just to find one glistening diamond. He was certain her kitten had swallowed one of them. Approaching footsteps guided his head sideways, but it wasn’t Lola who walked up to greet him. It was a woman in a spotted overcoat, a woman of about forty or fifty depending on how much cosmetic surgery she had invested in. ”Hello ma’am,” he acknowledged her politely. If she hadn’t approached for a specific reason, a little small talk wouldn’t hurt if she was up for it. ”Hello. I was asked to give this to you,” she replied, voice like an opera singer’s. She handed him a sealed envelope. He took it without question, because what was life without a little adventure? ”A girl with blue highlights gave it to me. She said it was best to leave it quick and impersonal.” He had always adored Lola’s blue highlights. With a “thank you,” he saw her off, and sat on the edge of the fountain. Lola was never impersonal about anything. Whenever she wanted to talk, she would pull him aside and talk, and then the conversation would end with cheek kisses and Algernon resting his chin on the top of her head. A letter was weird. A letter felt cold. Dear Algernon, We have to be realistic when we look at our potential future together. After we talked about our plans for the future it became obvious to me, and probably to you too, that our futures just don't align. When I think of commitment I think of devotion to a singular person, but recently my feelings have been changing. We both know I don’t cope well with guilt, so I’m sorry you had to find out this way. My best friend and I are getting back together. I’m sorry that I couldn’t wait to be with him again, and I’m sorry that it made me unfaithful. You are very sure of yourself, Algernon. Find someone who is just as sure as you. ❤Lola He folded the letter and slipped it into his pocket. The journey home would be long and silent, but no more than twenty minutes. He could listen to the hoots of owls and look at the moon. He could stroll by noisy bars and wait to hear echoes of laughter coming from inside. He could take detours by the party streets to feel the thrum of music in his bones. He did all of those things until he reached his doorstep. Inside all was quiet, and he lost his composure. All of Lola’s smiles and laughs and kisses crashed into him at once. Tears smeared his mascara as he kicked off his shoes and curled against the sofa, pillow wedged between his knees and his chest. Countless times he had ended up in a pitiful ball on this sofa, always over a break-up. It was always the same story; Algernon wasn’t good enough, somebody else was better, the world had better things than Algernon, there was no love for Algernon. He had all of the love in the world for other people, but nobody to return it. Not Lola, not Copper. Copper. Copper was his magnet. He always ended up crawling meekly to his bedroom to mope until he felt better. Tonight would be no different, he decided. He set the pillow aside and stepped past the threshold of Copper’s bedroom door, which was cracked open. Mascara-stained cheeks and all, he walked inside and sat on the bed. Copper was at his desk, focused and professional as always. Algernon sniffled and waited. [/presto]	[presto] c a p i t o l [/presto]
[presto] t o o   h i g h   t o   c l i m b [/presto]

[gamemaker kelsier]

[presto] y o u ' r e   d e s p e r a t e   f o r   t h e   a n s w e r [/presto]
[presto] n i n e t e e n [/presto]	[presto] C O P E R N I C U S   F E N W I C K His father had posed a question to him that morning as they'd sat in his office, stacks of paper piled high between them, trying to find a catch in one of the latest deals that they were working on. "Copernicus," he had said, cold gaze on the paper in front of him, "Do you want to be here or not, you've barely made it through your stack." Copernicus had not answered because his father would not have liked what he would have to say. If he had gone with honesty, the answer to his question would have been no. He did not want to be there in that stuffy office, staring the rest of his life, his doom in the face. He would have much rather been outside, where the sun was. It was what had kept grabbing his attention, the large window that had been directly to his left nearly serving to blind him with images of the rising sun. They hadn't even gone home to rest the night before, Copernicus had not breathed fresh air in over thirty hours. The answer was a solid no. He wanted to have a moment's rest. His skin was so twisted with pent-up stress that he felt that he must have become unrecognizable in this past week. He felt like one of those impressionist pieces from the art museum. Here he was now, hours later, still going through the same contract. His father had requested that he look through it one last time before sleep and like everything else in his life that his father asked for, Copernicus gave it to him without complaint. He was stuck on one paragraph, like a broken record caught repeating the same line again and again. His brain was either too tired to compute it or the amount that he just did not care about any of it was beginning to catch up with him. With a sigh, he took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. They leaked, his eyes were so strained even with the lenses. He'd loosened his tie hours earlier and his dress shirt was unbuttoned, rumpled. He'd almost been glad when he'd arrived home to an empty house only hours earlier, lonely but glad. He'd needed to get a lot of work done in order to sleep tonight and he was still only half way through it. He couldn't stop thinking about other things. Algernon said that he was taking his latest to a ball tonight. Copernicus had been invited but had had to respectfully decline. The girl was too low a status for him to warrant actually taking time off of work. He did enjoy those sorts of things, but it made no matter to his father what he enjoyed or didn't enjoy because in his eyes, Copernicus would do as he was told. Despite himself, he kept checking the clock, wondering when Algernon was due back. Knowing his friend, he wouldn't be home until the wee hours of the morning. However, this relationship was already lasting longer than Copernicus had expected it to, he was wondering when the ball would drop. He was too intent on his reading to notice when Algernon himself entered his room. on the other hand, it was second nature for Copernicus to be aware of him when he was around. without fully recognizing it, Copernicus visibly relaxed, shoulders drooping and head falling to one side in relief. A solitary sniffle announced his friend better than any butler could, Copernicus set down the paper he had been reading and turned in his chair to regard him, eyebrows knitting together in concern when he saw Algernon's usually perfect makeup smeared. At first he wondered if someone had been in an accident but Copernicus knew that if that was true, Algernon would be with said person, not here, crying. "Lola?" he asked, voice laced with concern. He knew that blue haired floozy would break his heart, they all did in the end. They didn't know how to care for it. [/presto]	[presto] c a p i t o l [/presto]
[presto] i t   e a t s   a t   y o u   l i k e   c a n c e r [/presto]

[Python]

[presto] y o u r     w a l l s     a r e     u p [/presto]
[presto] n i n e t e e n [/presto]	[presto] A L G E R N O N   L O U V E T He could always count on Copernicus to recognize his heartbreak. Evidence of his genuine concern was etched in the gentle wrinkles between his eyebrows, and it was all too familiar. Everything was all too familiar. Algernon was predictable; his heartbreak was seemingly inevitable, his visits to Copper’s bedroom with tears streaked across his cheeks were endless, and the pitiful moping could be anticipated from miles away. He often wondered how or why Copper was not exhausted by his emotional neediness. The boy was a strict businessman now, taking after his father like the first-born always did. Algernon was the same as he always was. Always partying, always starving for affection from his peers, always searching for the right person to replace what he couldn’t have. Fortunately, some of the old Copper was still lurking past the “all work no play” façade. He planned to reach out and grasp it as firmly as he could. ”Lola?” he asked, and Algernon nodded. He cleared his throat and wiped a stray tear below his eye. ”She stood me up and sent me this,” he said, pulling the letter out of his pocket. He unfolded it and cleared his throat again. Of course he was going to read it out loud. Somebody needed to understand why his heart was bleeding on his sleeve. ”Dear Algernon,” he started, voice cracking. He paused to once again clear his throat of his sorrows. He didn’t want to sound even more pitiful, like a twelve year old teenage girl sulking over her first breakup. With Copper in the room he needed to salvage the remnants of his dignity. When he finished the letter he stared at the little heart beside Lola’s curvy signature. How dare she be cute in a breakup letter. It wasn’t fair. He folded it up and slipped it back into his pocket. Would it be wise to shred it or keep it? The only sentiment it could provide was a reminder of Algernon’s worth to her, that he was only deserving of a letter after four months of dedication. Maybe he would shred it. It felt rude, but it was probably the wisest choice. Copper was in a relaxed state of attire. His tie was loose and his dress shirt was unbuttoned – he looked comfortable. Algernon was still clad in his suit, and it was warm. He shrugged off his top layer and folded it neatly on the silk sheets as he spoke up again. ”I guess I’m not worth meeting in person.” He smoothed the fabric and brought his knees up to his chest. Beating himself up about it was never comforting, but he couldn’t help it. How could somebody dump him in a letter? How could someone admit to being unfaithful and then dump him in a letter on a romantic night that was meant to be spent dancing at a ball and sipping wine? He had never thought of Lola as heartless. She always felt guilty about the smallest inconveniences. ”This is the fourth time in a row I’ve been cheated on,” he continued. Over the span of two years all of his relationships had ended like this, minus the impersonal letter. They say third time is the charm, but that ended badly. Now there was a fourth time? A fourth instance was a pattern. Something was wrong, and it had to be his own fault. ”I must be doing something wrong. Maybe I should give up.” He didn’t like those fateful words. “Giving up” meant a lot of things. It meant limiting his love life to hookups only, and he didn't want that. It meant finding his lost restraint when most of it was spent on not smothering Copernicus with obvious affections. It meant loneliness. [/presto]	[presto] c a p i t o l [/presto]
[presto] t o o   h i g h   t o   c l i m b [/presto]

[gamemaker kelsier]

[presto] y o u ' r e   d e s p e r a t e   f o r   t h e   a n s w e r [/presto]
[presto] n i n e t e e n [/presto]	[presto] C O P E R N I C U S   F E N W I C K As Algernon finished reading the letter, Copernicus sighed almost angrily. He'd met Lola once or twice and as always, was as polite as needed. Her station was lower but she was a woman so Copernicus had exuded the regular charm and grace. However, he hadn't liked her. He never did like any of Algernon's various dates. In Copernicus' eyes there was always something wrong with them. He was usually right about them because in the end, they often broke his best friend's heart. Copernicus had come to understand that Algernon was extremely bad at choosing dates. It never stopped Algernon from trying and Copernicus made it a point to tell him that his door was always open. Things had changed since they were younger, when he'd had more free time to be with Algernon. Now Copernicus felt that sometimes he didn't see the sun for days. He spent all of his time at the office. He glanced at his desk, at the papers there, all in neat stacks. He had been meant to finish reading but exhaustion was making his eyesight raw anyway. He picked up his glasses, placing them back on and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it. When he'd told Algernon that he could talk to him whenever, he'd meant it. He stood up, steadying himself with the chair when all his blood rushed away and left him feeling dizzy for the briefest of moments. his hand left the chair when his feet left the area of the desk and he was walking across the marble flooring of his bedroom to the bed. With a soft sigh meant to comfort, he sat down beside his best friend and placed a hand on his back between his shoulder blades. Gently, he began to rub Algernon's back in small circles, something that his mother had often done for him, time and time again. He'd taken to doing it to Algernon in turn years ago. "The girls' got no class," he murmured in response to his question. Copernicus had been through many a break-up with Algernon and knew what was required of him well. The general idea was to agree with whatever he said and also point out all of the flaws of the person he'd been dating. Then, he broke out the chocolates that Algernon was fond of and alcohol and the night often dissolved into watching romance films while Algernon drunkenly cried over various letters and objects of affection that he'd received over the course of the relationship, however short or long it had been. "I don't see how it's you doing something wrong, when they're the despicable cheats," he responded bitterly, mind going to Mariana. Of course he had since confronted her about the fact that she had a female lover and had worked things out with her. Of course they had never been in love in the first place anyway. It had still hurt to be cheated on. Copernicus shifted so he lay flat on his bed and then reached beneath it for the box dedicated to situations such as these. He kept it well stocked. Pulling it up, he placed it on the bed between them, and opened it to reveal four bottles of cheap wine and a smaller, more compact bottle of the moonshine often found at younger Capitolite's parties. He lifted out a bottle of wine and opened it, passing it on to Algernon, "Here, Drink," he said, opening a bottle for himself. Copernicus often needed to get wasted on nights like these just to deal with the feelings of hatred that grew on him for the people that Algernon dated. He didn't ever get to know them because he knew these feelings would emerge in the end. It was a cocktail of jealousy and utter dislike for the way they treated Algernon. "You shouldn't give up, Algernon darling, I'm certain that one day someone will come along who'll know how to treat you," he said sympathetically, following up the statement by taking a swig from the bottle of wine. The sour taste of it clouded his mouth but it was welcome. [/presto]	[presto] c a p i t o l [/presto]
[presto] i t   e a t s   a t   y o u   l i k e   c a n c e r [/presto]

[Python]

[presto] y o u r     w a l l s     a r e     u p [/presto]
[presto] n i n e t e e n [/presto]	[presto] A L G E R N O N   L O U V E T There was a comfort protocol. After years of this repetitive pattern of failures, the scenario was familiar. He knew exactly what Copernicus planned to do when he rose from his chair, and felt his hopes flutter with anticipation. Any amount of physical contact was a remedy. How often he relied on another’s touch was absolutely pitiful, and he knew it. He was not oblivious to his potent needs and he was not afraid to admit it. But he was ashamed of it. He felt starved when he was alone, like affection was a biological need instead of a luxury. He had once spoken to a therapist about it. She was a generous, patient woman who somehow managed to listen to his hours of rumination. She had recommended self-care and focusing on other goals. It was one of the reasons why he spent so much time pampering himself. He hung his head as Copper rubbed soothing circles between his shoulders. As distasteful as it was to dump somebody in a letter, he couldn’t find the anger within himself to trash talk her. Maybe Copper had his low opinions of her because of her status, but he didn’t see her as classless. She was a polite, punctual, giggly dandelion susceptible to guilt, and whose weakness was cute cheek kisses. Now that he thought about her personality again, he realized why she had sent a letter. She was cowardly. It wasn’t a nice way of putting it – a better word was anxious or scared, he liked those better. She was scared because maybe it would hurt too much to see his heart break in person. He would never know, because he didn't plan to contact her again. This was final. ”They’re cheats because I’m not good enough,” he moped, rubbing tears away from his cheeks. It only smeared his mascara further. It was only somewhat embarrassing; Copper had seen him at his worst before. In fact, this wasn’t his worst. There were nights when he had outright sobbed against Copper’s shoulder, ruining fabric with his salted sorrow. Tonight he wouldn’t do that. Tonight he had restraint. Copper retrieved a box from underneath his bed, stocked with Algernon’s favorite wine. He eyed it with interest and took the bottle on command. The admiration inside of him swelled. Somehow, Copper always knew what to do. It made him love Copper too much, and suppression was a strain on his heart. Fortunately, he had alcohol as a companion tonight. He wondered if Copper had his favorite chocolates here too, or a cute romance movie. He adored those. The wine was sweet as it trickled down his throat. There was no burn or bitter aftertaste, just the warm tingling sensation that made him drag his tongue across his upper lip. He smiled when Copper called him “darling.” It was an endearing pet name. He pondered the honesty behind the words, and how applicable they were to his life. He always thought that same thing, that somebody out there would be his perfect match and treat him right. Everybody let him down. They dropped his beating heart instead of coddling it in their hands. It hurt more and more but now he was starting to feel numb. What if his soul mate didn’t exist? What if it was Copper? But don’t soulmates have to love you back? He tapped the bottle and glanced down at the mattress. ”Do you believe in soulmates?” he asked. He wanted a realistic outlook. Copper was blunt and professional, and although he was Algernon’s closest friend he was sure he wouldn’t try to sugar-coat anything. Maybe he could talk some sense into him, and lower his elevated expectations. He didn’t want the stars in his own eyes to fade, but maybe it was healthier that way. His therapist always said to believe in what made him happiest. It seemed like silly advice now. He believed he was kind and handsome and deserving of love. After all this time, he could be wrong. He remembered what one of his exes had told him less than a month ago. ”Sorry, I can’t be seen with you. My girlfriend knows you’re a slut.” He pursed his lips and imitated the words like a helpless parrot. ”I’m too much of a slut, aren’t I?” [/presto]	[presto] c a p i t o l [/presto]
[presto] t o o   h i g h   t o   c l i m b [/presto]