Say, it's not easy being green.
Feb. 21st, 2007 10:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fenellaLike I said, really bad at the not writing fic concept. Yesterday Kel/Lerant, today prologue of the Bruno and Boots fic. See me do multi-chapter fic and die - I really haven't got their voices yet :( Anyways, this one's for Sarah.
*
No Tomorrow - Prologue
*
“Hey Boots,” said Bruno, rushing into room 306. “You’ll never guess what happened in the middle of Biology this after-”
Bruno stopped mid-sentence and stared at his roommate. Boots was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his unmade bed, intently focused on a carefully placed envelope. Judging from the ripped edge, the envelope – now neatly framed by the tiny Toronto Maple Leaf logos on Boots pillowcase – had been opened.
“Boots?” asked Bruno, worried. “Did somebody die?”
Boots opened his mouth as if to speak, but the only thing that came out was a strangled sound. He cleared his throat and took a breath, but didn’t remove his gaze from the offending letter.
After a pause, Boots spoke. “Huh, funny, why don’t you tell me?”
“You’re not making sense,” said Bruno, distressed. “You’re probably in shock – are you in shock? Why don’t you start at the beginning, and explain, and then we can go from there. Talking about death is therapeutic; I’ve heard people say that.”
“Oh, okay,” said Boots harshly, his eyes shifting to glare at his roommate. “Should I start with the part where you coerced me into accepting McGill, the part where you hid my acceptance to Northwestern, or the part where you pretended to phone Chicago, explained that my letter had gotten lost in the mail, ’Probably during the freak May snowstorm in Miami that coincided with the postal workers strike of America’ and then told me that I’d been refused!”
“Hm,” said Bruno, shifty. “Those are serious allegations, Boots. You’re lucky that I’m not offended.”
“I found the letter on your desk, Bruno!” shouted Boots, getting to his feet and crossing the room. He slammed the door, causing the small crowd (unashamedly watching from a safe distance, in Pete’s room across the hall) to flinch.
“You went through my stuff?” asked Bruno, appalled. “What happened to the sanctity of the roommate code of honour?”
“Honour?” laughed Boots, somewhat hysterically. “It was placed carefully underneath the library books that you took out on my card, which by the way are overdue, and Bruno! You have never, not in the seven years I’ve known you, ever placed anything carefully on your desk. That would have been suspicious in itself.”
“That’s not fair,” said Bruno. “I’m always careful with Petunia.”
“That’s not even the point,” stormed Boots. “And you do not get to make this about you. They offered me a scholarship Bruno, and it’s big. I wouldn’t even have to worry about loans.”
“Your parents are rich, Melvin,” said Bruno patiently, “They can afford tuition.”
“You know that they’re not paying for university,” said Boots exasperated. “Earning my own way, and all that.”
“Yeah, well they’re jerks,” sulked Bruno, kicking at the wall.
“Yeah,” said Boots softening a little. “Come on, I know you want to do the whole university thing together, but it can’t always be us against the world.”
“Why not?”
“It just can’t, Bruno.”
Boots, after a moment of uncomfortable silence, grabbed his jacket and opened the door.
“Where are you going?” asked Bruno, uncharacteristically quiet.
“I don’t know,” said Boots. “Not Montreal.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Bruno sighed as the door banged shut, and he dropped onto Boots bed.
“I was going to tell you about how Elmer’s fetal pig hadn’t been drained,” Bruno told the empty room regretfully. “It was amazing. There was blood everywhere.”
*
*
No Tomorrow - Prologue
*
“Hey Boots,” said Bruno, rushing into room 306. “You’ll never guess what happened in the middle of Biology this after-”
Bruno stopped mid-sentence and stared at his roommate. Boots was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his unmade bed, intently focused on a carefully placed envelope. Judging from the ripped edge, the envelope – now neatly framed by the tiny Toronto Maple Leaf logos on Boots pillowcase – had been opened.
“Boots?” asked Bruno, worried. “Did somebody die?”
Boots opened his mouth as if to speak, but the only thing that came out was a strangled sound. He cleared his throat and took a breath, but didn’t remove his gaze from the offending letter.
After a pause, Boots spoke. “Huh, funny, why don’t you tell me?”
“You’re not making sense,” said Bruno, distressed. “You’re probably in shock – are you in shock? Why don’t you start at the beginning, and explain, and then we can go from there. Talking about death is therapeutic; I’ve heard people say that.”
“Oh, okay,” said Boots harshly, his eyes shifting to glare at his roommate. “Should I start with the part where you coerced me into accepting McGill, the part where you hid my acceptance to Northwestern, or the part where you pretended to phone Chicago, explained that my letter had gotten lost in the mail, ’Probably during the freak May snowstorm in Miami that coincided with the postal workers strike of America’ and then told me that I’d been refused!”
“Hm,” said Bruno, shifty. “Those are serious allegations, Boots. You’re lucky that I’m not offended.”
“I found the letter on your desk, Bruno!” shouted Boots, getting to his feet and crossing the room. He slammed the door, causing the small crowd (unashamedly watching from a safe distance, in Pete’s room across the hall) to flinch.
“You went through my stuff?” asked Bruno, appalled. “What happened to the sanctity of the roommate code of honour?”
“Honour?” laughed Boots, somewhat hysterically. “It was placed carefully underneath the library books that you took out on my card, which by the way are overdue, and Bruno! You have never, not in the seven years I’ve known you, ever placed anything carefully on your desk. That would have been suspicious in itself.”
“That’s not fair,” said Bruno. “I’m always careful with Petunia.”
“That’s not even the point,” stormed Boots. “And you do not get to make this about you. They offered me a scholarship Bruno, and it’s big. I wouldn’t even have to worry about loans.”
“Your parents are rich, Melvin,” said Bruno patiently, “They can afford tuition.”
“You know that they’re not paying for university,” said Boots exasperated. “Earning my own way, and all that.”
“Yeah, well they’re jerks,” sulked Bruno, kicking at the wall.
“Yeah,” said Boots softening a little. “Come on, I know you want to do the whole university thing together, but it can’t always be us against the world.”
“Why not?”
“It just can’t, Bruno.”
Boots, after a moment of uncomfortable silence, grabbed his jacket and opened the door.
“Where are you going?” asked Bruno, uncharacteristically quiet.
“I don’t know,” said Boots. “Not Montreal.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Bruno sighed as the door banged shut, and he dropped onto Boots bed.
“I was going to tell you about how Elmer’s fetal pig hadn’t been drained,” Bruno told the empty room regretfully. “It was amazing. There was blood everywhere.”
*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-02-22 04:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-22 03:29 pm (UTC)oops, you did it again...........
Date: 2007-02-22 04:49 am (UTC)boots freaking out and bruno being shifty is always fun. and the last line sort of made me gag a little.
Re: oops, you did it again...........
Date: 2007-02-22 03:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-22 06:18 am (UTC)This is such a them conversation! And you brought up Petunia, who I miss through each and every one of the books she is not present in!
Especially that last line. Bruno would so say that.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-22 03:32 pm (UTC)Thanks :)
no subject
Date: 2007-02-22 02:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-22 03:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-23 10:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-05 02:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 06:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-05 02:31 am (UTC)