|o p e n| 'cuz we are broken

[francois jonathon lucielle]

Adjusting to a new life could be quite tedious; it was a skill that took a while to perfect, and that was no exception for the small French boy at all. He was moving into a new place all over again, which meant restarting once more. It took a while for the movers to finally get all their stuff into their new house, but it happened, but with a few problems as well. The kitchen table had been dented, a lamp was shattered, and even Francois bed post was chipped and cracked. Really? Francois couldn’t imagine how these people were still in business; he was probably more careful than them. It did annoy Francois a little bit more than it would annoy a normal teenager, because he had to pick up the slack. He had to clean the house and do everything, simply because his father would not. The man argued that it was the job of a woman, and without one there would be no cleaning unless Francois would do it; and so he did. It was just another thing he had to add on to his never ending list of chores, but he didn’t mind; he took pride in keeping the house immaculate.



School was proving to be a problem though as well. It was hard to move into a school half through year and expect to blend in immediately. But he didn’t blend in at all, and that was the problem. Francois was the boy in the back of the classroom no one wanted to talk to. He was the boy who wore lacy gloves and sweatshirts in ninety degree weather. He was the boy who wasn’t involved in any sports at all. He was the boy who wore eyeliner. Francois was simply the boy who didn’t fit in with anyone. It could be quite nerve wracking sometimes, but the boy got through it. He was able to ignore the stares and whispers, because he was already used to them. He was able to disregard the rumors that immediately started flowing around when he entered the school. It was simply out of habit that people did this. He didn’t think it was possible for someone to hate him that much already to want to make him miserable, so he just imagined it was due to the fact that he was new.




But this is why the small French boy danced. This is why he pushed his body to its limits, until it couldn’t take anymore; to escape it all, to remove himself from the haze of life and everything about it, and simply dance all his feelings away. It worked very well to say the least, and so that is why it was never uncommon to find the boy dancing in the auditorium. It was the largest stage to practice on when there wasn’t a concert that was in progress. The boy moved with such fluent grace and agility, it was unimaginable sometimes. From air to ground, hand to foot, finger to toe; he moved with the grace of a swan and it was easily visible. His body shifted weight as if it was nothing. It was almost like he had complete control over every single fiber of being inside him, and there was simply no stopping him once he was dancing like this. Then, ever so gently, he moved all his weight onto his right leg and gently lifted up into the air, on the utmost tip of his toes, and began to pirouette in a delicate, three sixty degree circle all around. He spun for seconds that were timeless, the action breathtaking and eloquent; he could have easily been dancing for ten, twenty years that way he moved. As the boy began to slow to a stop, his leg gently grazed the floor for a moment, but there was something wrong. A small muscle twitch, a slippery floor; something threw him off balance for a short moment. His eyes widened a little as his body fell forward, cheek landing smack against the floorboards with a small thud.




“Oh mon dieu…” His body weight shifted again and brought him up onto his knees, warm hazel eyes staring down at burning red hands.


Things had to get better eventually, right?

[/center]

[brooklyn ava cauldwell]

_{because i'm broken when i'm lonesome}

it wasn't unusual to find brook in the concert hall. it was basically always quiet, if there wasn't a concert going on, and no one eve3r found her here. it wasn't a place you'd expect brooklyn cauldwell to come. and so that was exactly why this was the place she came to when she had homework that needed to be done. her phone had been left pointedly back in her dorm room so she couldn't be distracted by an invitation to go do something somewhere with someone. brook was quiet the social butterfly. she always had things to do, someone to do something with. it was rare to see the girl by herself, except she was dancing, in which case her friends knew better than to distract her. while her dance was her passion, and people gave her space to do that, nobody seemed to think that the class homework was as important, and doing homework was never a good enough excuse to keep her from going somewhere with them. and so she had resorted to hiding in the concert hall.

today, she slipped in almost silently, her backpack over one shoulder, armed with her ipod to block out any of the rather creepy sounds that were occasionally issued by the older building and tended to make the rather high strung girl jump, and thus cause distraction. music fixed everything. well, no. dancing fixed everything. but music was the food was dance, it added another element that helped the audience interpret, and so to brook, music was almost as important as the dance itself, at least, if you wanted a piece to wow an audience. and so music was another welcome distraction.

initially, she almost didn't notice that she was alone in the auditorium, but it wasn't long before her eyes were riveted on the dancer on the stage. he was one of those dancers who took her breath away, and made her literally green with envy. oh, to be able to move like that. it was natural talent, too, it wasn't something that could be learned, you had it or you didn't. it was like being able to sing--either you could sing or you couldn't. either you had that flawless dancer's grace or you didn't. and brook knew it couldn't be learned because she had tried. if you could become the best by through sheer force of will and determination and practicing until your legs literally gave way beneath your body, brook would be the best dancer in the world. as it was, she was no competition for people like this. of course, she didn't really realize how good she herself was--all she saw was that she would never be this good.

she gasped a little as he fell, watching in horror, but he quickly picked himself up. "ohh, are you okay?" she asked as she hurried toward the stage, and then realized maybe she would have been better off to hide and not let him know she was there. she knew she herself never wanted someone around when she made a mistake. she knew from experience it was the worst thing and it was even worse when you had a witness. she paused in front of the stage, her gaze taking the boy in. now that she was closer, she recognized him, or thought she did. she suspected he had to be the new french kid that literally everyone was talking about. she'd been all ready to gossip maliciously about him just like everyone else, but really, who gave a fuck what you wore when you could dance like that?

"that was amazing" she added, still sounding half breathless from watching him. i mean, you're really, really good. seriously, i'd kill to have your talent." she offered him an earnest, radiant smile. "i mean, not that i'd kill you, because it wouldn't get me your ability anyway. just so you know. i'm not really the murdering type...oh god." she said, trailing off as she realized she was babbling, as she always did when she was nervous, or stumbled into a decidedly awkward situation. She bit her lip, keeping herself silent, and swung onto the stage, offering a hand to help him up.

count; lazy clothes; click tag; francois lucielle
notes;he's so cute lol

[francois jonathon lucielle]

Francois could have honestly thought he was alone throughout his entire life. There was no one solid who ever really stuck with him, but it was just something he got used to and got over. Wouldn't anyone else? Or at least, that's how the boy thought of it. Why would anyone want to help him, want to get involved, if they ultimately had to leave? It was how he thought when his mother crossed his mind. There was a certain reason she had only been there for half of his life; it was because she was only supposed to be. It was to ensure that Francois would grow up to be strong and not the weak, pathetic child he used to be, and in his eyes, still is. He always thought badly of himself. It wasn't anything he did on purpose, but it just sort of happened. It was the main reason he always braced himself for dissapointment, but would he ever tell anyone that? Of course not.



He was a little surprised when he heard someone call out to see if he was okay. His warm, hazel orbs traveled along to find a girl running up the aisle. Why had he missed her? How come he didn't see her when he walked in? Maybe she had just come in now? He imagined it was that, but he didn't think twice about it. He couldn't help but let a crooked smile spread across his features. No one had ever really...complimented him, unless they had to. It was new...but it was nice; it was a feeling he welcomed. He let out a small giggle as the girl seemed to be embarrassed by her own rambling, before opening his mouth to speak in a small tone.



"I am all right, yes, thank you; and it is fine, really. Thank you for the compliments, you're too cute." He gave her a large smile as she got onto the stage, and graciously he took her hand and got up smoothly, not making a sound.



"My name is Francois; it's a pleasure to meet you." There was the same smile as before. The sad part?


It had been practiced. Over, and over. And over.

[brooklyn ava cauldwell]

_{because i'm broken when i'm lonesome}

brooklyn was one of those girls who could generally see the best in everyone. not always--there were a few people who simply rubbed her the wrong way, but she was generally willing to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, unless they gave her a reason not to. she was a hopeless optimist, could see the silver lining to every cloud, and was willing to give everyone a chance. she wasn't, however, unrealistic. she was aware that people would leave, and let her down, and turn their back, but she refused to let that keep her from missing out on life. she was too spunky, too competitive, and perhaps had a little too much attitude, to let anything keep her down for long.

she grinned a slightly relieved looking smile as she helped him to his feet, giggling when he told her she was too cute. "you're too cute" she retorted. "that accent. god, to die for" she told him with a slightly flirty grin. she didn't really mean it to be--it was one of those things that sort of just happened. "i'm brooklyn" she said in response. "otherwise known as brook, brookie, cauldwell, or pretty much whatever else floats your boat. "blondie" or "hey you" works fine, too" she said with a slight giggle. brooklyn was one of those laid back girls who just sort of went with the flow.l "and no, the pleasure is definitely mine" she said with a grin. "god, i still can't get over that. you're fabulous" she threw her head back and laugh a genuine laugh. "with talent like that, though, you must hear it all the time. how long have you been dancing?" she asked curiously. "and please, by all means, feel free to tell me to shut up or buzz off. i talk way too much for my own good" she offered him another slightly sheepish smile. the girl smiled constantly. she was one of those people who just liked to smile and generally be happy...

count; lazy clothes; click tag; francois lucielle
notes;he's so cute lol