pp
j
“I was bruised? I hadn’t realized,” Dom replied, but the puzzled look did not leave her face. Then he explained that he was being sarcastic and she nodded, an Ohhhh dragging on from her mouth until she remembered what that word meant. Then she smiled, actually realizing what he meant. Oh, sarcasm! Of course, I knew that, Desdemona thought nervously. It was unbelievable how often she ran into that situation where she had to pretend to know what a word meant. Today she had been lucky to remember whilst responding, other times she did not have as good of a fortune, and ran through conversation as if they were tall fields of yellow grass, and she kept getting more and more lost though there were little flowers here and there.
She laughed politely. “Silly me.” Stupid stupid stupid. How did you forget what sarcasm was?
Desdemona decided it was for the better to ignore her thoughts, they were being too aggressive. Not fitting for her character. That was something Mom and Dad would say, not Desdemona, Mona has to be nice.
“So, you’re new to Wyndham right? Me too!” She changed the subject. “How has it been living on a college campus?” the girl asked, and then her voice dipped. “Well, assuming you haven’t before. I didn’t.” She chuckled weakly, and then looked down at the flat dining table, wishing once again for a fork to toy with absentmindedly.
Without realizing, Desdemona’s first question would likely press Dominic, but it was possible that her second may have been worse. The boy froze, his forked hand still, his eyes fixed on his lap like he was reading something off of it. Perhaps a script, that would make the story of September 4th easier to tell.
“Yes, I guess,” He said, and then mumbled some more; a somewhat confident statement that did not match the sudden shakiness of his hand that overtook him, like just a memory alone had sent him into a panic. She waited patiently for him to speak, whenever he was ready…
“I fell down the stairs. Not once, but twice.”
At that, Desdemona’s lips curved into her fighting against laughter, leaning on the back of her hand to hide her smile, thinking of how ridiculous he sounded. How did someone fall down the stairs twice? She imagined him throwing himself down, then walking back up to throw himself again. Funny. That was funny.
But he probably did not intend it to be funny, as he had been quite injured, she reminded herself, her lips going flat behind her loosely-held fist. But how did any of that happen? Why would he do that? … twice? Huh.
“Were you pushed?” She asked easily, not really thinking about a tone to use. Her lips were sometimes faster than her head, which almost worked this time again, and told her to apologize, but it did not. The dominant voice in her head at that time… was curiosity, pushing all the others away to lead. “You must have fallen upside down, because I thought most of your bruises were above the waist,” She looked diagonally, away from Nic and around the ceiling like she was thinking seriously; a child coming up with false reasoning.
After a bit of awkward banter, and the occasional giggles, they had switched their topic of conversation back to Mona, and he asked her a question.
“The garden?” he’d asked, hoping to find an answer even though he knew he wouldn’t understand it. “What makes it so special?”
By this point in the conversation, the seconds hand on the clock had round and round several times, and the minutes one had lowered some degrees. One of Desdemona’s new Wyndham friends had come by and offered her a bite of their fruit, to which she gladly said yes, even though she wasn’t hungry. The girl put the end of the fork before Desdemona’s lips, and she gladly scooped the orange square of cantaloupe into her mouth, thinking nothing of what others may have referred to as intimate. Instead, she went along happily, and after the fact, she saw that her friend had giggled, so Desdemona giggled too.
She looked back to Dominic, forgetting anything had happened, and then considered how to answer him. “Hmm,” she sighed, dreaming of an answer. “The garden. What do I like about it?” She thought, and then found one or two answers.
“There’s lots of bugs.” She giggled. She loved bugs. “And it’s where I met you!” Desdemona beamed, and although Dominic would likely refuse to believe her, or reply back with sarcasm, she meant what she said, watching him intently with her sliced-grape color eyes. Though there were more people she was spending time with in recent weeks, and it was becoming more of a necessity to discriminate between who was a friend and who wasn’t, she found Nic too interesting to exclude. He was so secretive. Did he hide secrets similar to hers?
pp
@idiot.exe Domino Momino
pp
Notes:
Take as long as u want to reply!! Ik ur on a breakkkk