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Post by Adrian Veidt on Sept 29, 2009 12:24:27 GMT -5
"You say that as though I could forget," he said, almost teasingly.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Sept 29, 2009 12:28:55 GMT -5
Adrien half-smiled unconsciously, coaxed and comforted by this admission, planned or not, of how memorable Adrien apparently was. "Well. First Communion is the name of a friend of mine who used to work for a waiter. I was borrowing his work clothes. It was the first thing that came to me."
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Sept 29, 2009 12:32:44 GMT -5
"Do you really think I couldn't tell you were making things up on the spot?" he asked, while giving a vague, strained indication that he wanted Adrien to sit by his side again.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Sept 29, 2009 12:35:53 GMT -5
"Of course I thought you knew," said Adrien, not moving, and glancing away idly. "But no one else seemed to. I mean, I think they suspected, but I don't think they wanted to appear as though they didn't know me if I actually, legitimately belonged there."
He paused and brushed his hair behind his ear. "Have you heard of Roger Marchetti?"
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Sept 29, 2009 12:44:53 GMT -5
Something about the way Adrien said this gave Adrian pause. He knew what was coming.
"Yes, of course. He's been a favorite of the press for namedropping while interviewing me ever since I've come here- 'Roger Marchetti didn't need a vigilante to capture him' and the like."
He glanced back at Adrien and inclined his head toward the same indicated spot on the bed as he continued, "Never mind that the bastard took two years to catch, even after the official investigations began."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Sept 29, 2009 12:50:03 GMT -5
Adrien nodded. "Mmhm," he said, quietly. "I've heard people talk about him in articles about you, too."
He took out a photograph from the paper bag of photos he'd meant to scrapbook or something but never had, and tossed it onto the bed a short distance from Adrian.
It was of two men, tan, blond hair that curled in the front, one in his thirties though good-looking anyway, and with a cold but beyond satisfied smile that said he knew it, the other about seventeen and smaller, appearing to be laughing about something that had been said prior to the snapshot's being taken. Marchetti had an arm around Adrien's shoulders in this photo, pulling him sharply and almost uncomfortably close, though the kid hadn't minded at the time. Adrien was glancing away, up at Marchetti, but Marchetti, pressing his lips against a signet ring on the hand at the end of the arm around the boy like a gambler does with dice for luck, was staring at the photographer.
Adrien looked away casually again, one arm loosely folded and resting on the edge of the bed.
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Sept 29, 2009 13:03:02 GMT -5
He hadn't expected photographic proof- his mind had already put the puzzle pieces in place, so to speak- but this made the reality so much more concrete. Certain details stood out with particular clarity, however- the almost brutal hold Marchetti had on Adrien, the fact that Adrien was now revealed to habitually mimick the personal appearance of those he was sleeping with, and above all the cold vulgarity of Marchetti's expression, amplified far greater by the intimacy of the photograph than a picture exploited by a newspaper would have.
He looked up at Adrien, and the old feeling- dulled by the boy's confession at Karnak- that he was looking at a creature of the utmost innocence, however damaged, returned.
"Adrien, come here please."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Sept 29, 2009 13:04:57 GMT -5
Adrien slid onto the bed beside him, appearing - although not consciously - to move as though trying to avoid the incriminating photograph.
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Sept 29, 2009 13:17:20 GMT -5
The first thing he did, with an expression like he was oiling a creaking door that was bothering him, was push Adrien's hair around until there was no resemblance to his own habitual way of wearing it.
When this was finished, he wrapped his arms around him, quite snugly, without saying a word.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Sept 29, 2009 13:19:58 GMT -5
Adrien didn't notice this, as it felt more like Adrian was, almost aggressively, stroking his hair.
At the embrace, he held him tightly, almost needily, like a child, and buried his face against him.
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Sept 29, 2009 13:23:10 GMT -5
A new realization was creeping into his consciousness- that he was now filling Marchetti's role in Adrien's life, and this made him feel sick and dizzy entirely aside from the alcohol.
He tightened his hold, staring into space.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Sept 29, 2009 13:26:07 GMT -5
But after a moment, Adrien pushed against him, just a little, trying to pull back so that he could look into Adrian's eyes, almost searchingly, with a kind of desperation that was calm and yet, at the same time, moments away from complete distress.
"Adrian. You know why I'm telling you this, don't you?"
There was an undercurrent of begging in his tone, as though he needed Adrian to know.
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Sept 29, 2009 13:28:25 GMT -5
"Adrien, I don't care. I don't care."
His voice was flat, his eyes not looking at him.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Sept 29, 2009 13:29:32 GMT -5
"Adrian," he repeated, now outright begging, trying to look at him. "Please."
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Sept 29, 2009 13:32:42 GMT -5
He was silent for a very long time, until he looked at Adrien with an expression full of horror and pity and above all, love.
"My God," he whispered. "Look what they've done to you."
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