HOME | DD

Description
1.

You'll never amount to anything. You don't know what you're going to do with your life. You're certain the only thing you love will disappear before you know it.

Just give up.

There. It was done. Weiss Wakefield's hands were covered in charcoal (along with everything else at his desk), and a scrawled black figure stared up at him from the paper to show for it. A signature reading Schwarz was scribbled at the bottom of the frame—Weiss's idea of irony. He didn't think himself much of an artist, but he figured that a little self-degradation was always the best way to go.
"That's awfully dark for you, Weiss." Charlotte Beauregard leaned over his shoulder, examining the artwork. A rose bloomed on her paper—black as the charcoal she drew it with, but still more cheerful than what Weiss had drawn. He gave her a shrug and stood with the paper.
"You could say I'm branching out," he whispered, taking the paper up to the teacher. Professor Sam, as he liked to be called, eyed the sketch, a small smile just barely forming at the edges of his mouth. He was a young man who almost certainly had never been a professor in his life, despite the prematurely grey hair and constant stern expression on his face which gave him an air of maturity. His smile grew into a grin as he took the paper from Weiss, placed it on the whiteboard behind him, and took a step back, viewing the piece from a distance.
The art teacher put a hand on Weiss's shoulder in approval. "Very well done," he said. "It really shows the demons in all of us—whether we want to see them or not. Class, I'd like to use Wakefield's work as an example." He gestured towards Weiss's chair. "You may sit down."
Charlotte started talking as soon as he took his seat. In fact, the entire class began to talk, as Professor Sam would always ignore everyone when he went off on one of these tangents. Besides, nobody had any focus—summer was fast approaching, and most of the class would be graduating in a few short weeks, Weiss and Charlotte included.
"Hey, Weiss. I found someplace cool—you want to check it out after school today?" She spoke with the slightest hint of a French accent, emphasizing the "oo" in "cool" just a little too much.
Weiss sighed. "Charlotte, the last time you brought me 'someplace cool,' we walked for an hour to stare at the world's smallest lake slash largest pond."
"Oh, it wasn't that bad."
"The only living thing in that lake was a duck."
"This will be better, I promise!" Charlotte lowered herself in her chair and stared up at Weiss, batting her eyes at him. He sighed again, and turned his gaze elsewhere.
"Fine, but if you're wrong, I'll—"
The bell rang, and Professor Sam froze in place, stunned as usual by the sound. "Alright ladies and gents," he said, being completely ignored by the crowd of students, "Have a wonderful evening. Be inspired!"

2.

"Inspired," muttered Weiss as he twirled the lock on his locker impatiently. "What am I supposed to be inspired by, exactly?"
"Something wrong, sweetheart?" May Emerson, as usual, greeted him with a grin, a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You're mumbling again."
"It's nothing," he responded. "Professor Sam just didn't make any sense today, that's all."
"So what else is new?" She pulled her own locker open and took out her bookbag, lugging it onto her shoulder as Charlotte walked by, giving her a light shove.
"May! You want to come with us to see something cool?"
May stumbled for a second, but Weiss helped her regain her balance. "No," she said, lingering in his arms for a moment before gathering the rest of her things. "I've got to study for finals."
"What?" Weiss laughed. "Everyone knows senior finals are pointless."
May gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry, hon. You know my mom." She mimicked cracking a whip, then started down the hall. "You guys go without me. Tell me all about it tomorrow, okay?"
"Yeah," Weiss shouted after her. "I promise."
Charlotte smiled as May walked away. "Looks like we've got the afternoon to ourselves." She circled Weiss slowly, placing a single finger in the middle of his chest. "Shall we hence?"
"S-sure."

3.

The flirting wasn't new. Charlotte had been toying with Weiss since she met him—a suggestive comment here, a longer-than-perfectly-acceptable touch there—and he had largely ignored it, chalking it up to cultural differences. However, in the last few weeks, she had increased her flirtatiousness, causing a few very uncomfortable moments. This was one of those moments: Charlotte clung to Weiss's arm as they walked through downtown Paradox, towards the Farmer's Market.
"Charlotte?" He gave her a gentle push. She ignored it. "There's nothing cool about the Farmer's Market. Cheap cheese, maybe, but that's about it."
"There's a new stand, cheri, run by a very delightful woman. She deals in some very… eccentric materials."
Weiss groaned. Charlotte had always been one for pretty crystals and incense, and if she had dragged him all the way out here to smell some glorified soap—
"Voila! Here it is."
Weiss's train of thought stopped—no, crashed—as he saw the ragged canvas tent that stood before them. Before he could say anything, Charlotte let go of his arm and walked right in. Reluctantly, Weiss followed.
A disheveled woman who appeared to be frantically packing the entire store's contents into a suitcase looked up at them, stunned. "I'm sorry," she said, "We're closed. I'm closed. I might be back-"
Charlotte cocked her head as the woman recognized her. "What's going on?" she asked.
"Charlotte, oh, hi! There's been an emergency, sorry! I tried to get your order ready in time but something came up, and…" She trailed off and stared at Weiss. "Who… Who's this?"
Charlotte grabbed their respective hands and extended them, and they shook tentatively. "Anemonae, meet Weiss Wakefield."
Anemonae's eyes widened as she heard this, and she jerked her hand away from his, shoving her things into the suitcase again. "No, no, no," she muttered, "Not now. I can't deal with this now!" She finished packing and threw the suitcase over her shoulder, pushed past the students and rushed out of the tent.
Charlotte and Weiss exchanged a confused glance as they stood in the empty store. "Great," said Weiss as he pushed aside the tent flap, walking back into the street. "That was a waste of time."
"I don't get it," Charlotte said, a little hurt. "She's usually such a nice person. I hope she gets back soon."
"Can we go home? It's hot out, and I'm hungry."
"Want to come to my house? I've got some ice cream left, I think."
"Yeah, sure."

4.

Weiss checked his watch. It was 9:00, and he and Charlotte were still watching that movie on TV. To be more accurate, Weiss was watching the movie, and Charlotte was sleeping next to him. Right then, time to be on my way, he thought, carefully lifting himself off of the couch. He turned the TV off, and found a blanket to cover Charlotte with. "Night, Charl," he said in case she was still half awake. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He got as far as the front door before she was upon him. She seemed to be crying, but in the darkness it was hard to tell.
"Don't go, Weiss."
When Charlotte got emotional, her accent got thick. Now, Weiss could barely make out those three words.
"Stay a little longer. You know I'm only here for another month, and… I want to make the most of it."
Weiss was, of course, not going to stop Charlotte from wrapping her arms around him and pressing her mouth against his—it would be their little secret, and, like she said, they only had to keep it for a month. Her plane left for France on July 1st, and then it would be over. He might hear from her, get a letter, watch her Facebook posts slowly change from English to French, and this little bump in the road would be miles behind him.
But as anyone who's been in an unexpected romantic situation late at night could tell you, Weiss wasn't thinking too clearly. He didn't consider the small detail, for example, of May's house, which happened to be just across the street from Charlotte's. As they stumbled into Charlotte's well lit room, Weiss's girlfriend of (god, how long has it been now? four years?) saw a flash of bare skin in the window across the way. It didn't take her long to realize just what was going on. She knew in an instant, in fact, as the skin gave way to a tuft of bronze hair pressed against a wave of dark, scarcely-dyed green.

May Emerson's heart broke just about as fast as her pen did as she smashed it in her hand.

Description
1.

You'll never amount to anything. You don't know what you're going to do with your life. You're certain the only thing you love will disappear before you know it.

Just give up.

There. It was done. Weiss Wakefield's hands were covered in charcoal (along with everything else at his desk), and a scrawled black figure stared up at him from the paper to show for it. A signature reading Schwarz was scribbled at the bottom of the frame—Weiss's idea of irony. He didn't think himself much of an artist, but he figured that a little self-degradation was always the best way to go.
"That's awfully dark for you, Weiss." Charlotte Beauregard leaned over his shoulder, examining the artwork. A rose bloomed on her paper—black as the charcoal she drew it with, but still more cheerful than what Weiss had drawn. He gave her a shrug and stood with the paper.
"You could say I'm branching out," he whispered, taking the paper up to the teacher. Professor Sam, as he liked to be called, eyed the sketch, a small smile just barely forming at the edges of his mouth. He was a young man who almost certainly had never been a professor in his life, despite the prematurely grey hair and constant stern expression on his face which gave him an air of maturity. His smile grew into a grin as he took the paper from Weiss, placed it on the whiteboard behind him, and took a step back, viewing the piece from a distance.
The art teacher put a hand on Weiss's shoulder in approval. "Very well done," he said. "It really shows the demons in all of us—whether we want to see them or not. Class, I'd like to use Wakefield's work as an example." He gestured towards Weiss's chair. "You may sit down."
Charlotte started talking as soon as he took his seat. In fact, the entire class began to talk, as Professor Sam would always ignore everyone when he went off on one of these tangents. Besides, nobody had any focus—summer was fast approaching, and most of the class would be graduating in a few short weeks, Weiss and Charlotte included.
"Hey, Weiss. I found someplace cool—you want to check it out after school today?" She spoke with the slightest hint of a French accent, emphasizing the "oo" in "cool" just a little too much.
Weiss sighed. "Charlotte, the last time you brought me 'someplace cool,' we walked for an hour to stare at the world's smallest lake slash largest pond."
"Oh, it wasn't that bad."
"The only living thing in that lake was a duck."
"This will be better, I promise!" Charlotte lowered herself in her chair and stared up at Weiss, batting her eyes at him. He sighed again, and turned his gaze elsewhere.
"Fine, but if you're wrong, I'll—"
The bell rang, and Professor Sam froze in place, stunned as usual by the sound. "Alright ladies and gents," he said, being completely ignored by the crowd of students, "Have a wonderful evening. Be inspired!"

2.

"Inspired," muttered Weiss as he twirled the lock on his locker impatiently. "What am I supposed to be inspired by, exactly?"
"Something wrong, sweetheart?" May Emerson, as usual, greeted him with a grin, a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You're mumbling again."
"It's nothing," he responded. "Professor Sam just didn't make any sense today, that's all."
"So what else is new?" She pulled her own locker open and took out her bookbag, lugging it onto her shoulder as Charlotte walked by, giving her a light shove.
"May! You want to come with us to see something cool?"
May stumbled for a second, but Weiss helped her regain her balance. "No," she said, lingering in his arms for a moment before gathering the rest of her things. "I've got to study for finals."
"What?" Weiss laughed. "Everyone knows senior finals are pointless."
May gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry, hon. You know my mom." She mimicked cracking a whip, then started down the hall. "You guys go without me. Tell me all about it tomorrow, okay?"
"Yeah," Weiss shouted after her. "I promise."
Charlotte smiled as May walked away. "Looks like we've got the afternoon to ourselves." She circled Weiss slowly, placing a single finger in the middle of his chest. "Shall we hence?"
"S-sure."

3.

The flirting wasn't new. Charlotte had been toying with Weiss since she met him—a suggestive comment here, a longer-than-perfectly-acceptable touch there—and he had largely ignored it, chalking it up to cultural differences. However, in the last few weeks, she had increased her flirtatiousness, causing a few very uncomfortable moments. This was one of those moments: Charlotte clung to Weiss's arm as they walked through downtown Paradox, towards the Farmer's Market.
"Charlotte?" He gave her a gentle push. She ignored it. "There's nothing cool about the Farmer's Market. Cheap cheese, maybe, but that's about it."
"There's a new stand, cheri, run by a very delightful woman. She deals in some very… eccentric materials."
Weiss groaned. Charlotte had always been one for pretty crystals and incense, and if she had dragged him all the way out here to smell some glorified soap—
"Voila! Here it is."
Weiss's train of thought stopped—no, crashed—as he saw the ragged canvas tent that stood before them. Before he could say anything, Charlotte let go of his arm and walked right in. Reluctantly, Weiss followed.
A disheveled woman who appeared to be frantically packing the entire store's contents into a suitcase looked up at them, stunned. "I'm sorry," she said, "We're closed. I'm closed. I might be back-"
Charlotte cocked her head as the woman recognized her. "What's going on?" she asked.
"Charlotte, oh, hi! There's been an emergency, sorry! I tried to get your order ready in time but something came up, and…" She trailed off and stared at Weiss. "Who… Who's this?"
Charlotte grabbed their respective hands and extended them, and they shook tentatively. "Anemonae, meet Weiss Wakefield."
Anemonae's eyes widened as she heard this, and she jerked her hand away from his, shoving her things into the suitcase again. "No, no, no," she muttered, "Not now. I can't deal with this now!" She finished packing and threw the suitcase over her shoulder, pushed past the students and rushed out of the tent.
Charlotte and Weiss exchanged a confused glance as they stood in the empty store. "Great," said Weiss as he pushed aside the tent flap, walking back into the street. "That was a waste of time."
"I don't get it," Charlotte said, a little hurt. "She's usually such a nice person. I hope she gets back soon."
"Can we go home? It's hot out, and I'm hungry."
"Want to come to my house? I've got some ice cream left, I think."
"Yeah, sure."

4.

Weiss checked his watch. It was 9:00, and he and Charlotte were still watching that movie on TV. To be more accurate, Weiss was watching the movie, and Charlotte was sleeping next to him. Right then, time to be on my way, he thought, carefully lifting himself off of the couch. He turned the TV off, and found a blanket to cover Charlotte with. "Night, Charl," he said in case she was still half awake. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He got as far as the front door before she was upon him. She seemed to be crying, but in the darkness it was hard to tell.
"Don't go, Weiss."
When Charlotte got emotional, her accent got thick. Now, Weiss could barely make out those three words.
"Stay a little longer. You know I'm only here for another month, and… I want to make the most of it."
Weiss was, of course, not going to stop Charlotte from wrapping her arms around him and pressing her mouth against his—it would be their little secret, and, like she said, they only had to keep it for a month. Her plane left for France on July 1st, and then it would be over. He might hear from her, get a letter, watch her Facebook posts slowly change from English to French, and this little bump in the road would be miles behind him.
But as anyone who's been in an unexpected romantic situation late at night could tell you, Weiss wasn't thinking too clearly. He didn't consider the small detail, for example, of May's house, which happened to be just across the street from Charlotte's. As they stumbled into Charlotte's well lit room, Weiss's girlfriend of (god, how long has it been now? four years?) saw a flash of bare skin in the window across the way. It didn't take her long to realize just what was going on. She knew in an instant, in fact, as the skin gave way to a tuft of bronze hair pressed against a wave of dark, scarcely-dyed green.

May Emerson's heart broke just about as fast as her pen did as she smashed it in her hand.