[Gallagher]

He's my primary roleplay character, and the one my avatar is based off of, too. My current signature is a section from him... -chuckles- He pretty much makes up my entire world. I don't have much else that's actually worth posting from him though. Except, I guess, a little peek into his head in a different universe than those other selections were done for... Actually, I might want to do more pieces like this. I have a lot of fun with them.

Lies

Look what you’ve done now.

You didn’t mean to.

Didn’t mean to? That’s a laugh.

It was just an accident.

Sitting at a familiar desk, in a familiar room, on an otherwise ordinary day, an utterly insignificant and unimpressive act had suddenly sent the two-toned young man’s mind into a dark, chaotic spiral.

An accident? Now that is rich.

Well, it was. Just an accident, nothing more.

Do you honestly believe that?

There’s nothing else to believe.

Oh, is that so?

… It’s not even that bad. You’re fine.

Kier had bitten his finger.
It was an utterly insignificant and undoubtedly unconscious act that had left nothing more than redness and telltale indentations in his skin. There wasn’t even a single drop of blood to show for it.

You’re in pain.

There was little more than a dull throb and a strange but not unpleasant tickle as his flesh slowly righted itself.

That’s wrong.

You wanted it to hurt.

You’re not like that. You don’t do that.

Are you still trying to tell yourself it was an accident?

Stop it.

You’re pathetic.

Shut up!

Oh, so sorry, did you want to go back to the silence?

It’s not-

He was suddenly aware of his own hands. One was stiff, pen in hand, rapidly tapping against the desk with no rhythm whatsoever. There wasn’t enough control for rhythm in the simple, urgent need to make some sort of sound, anything that would fill the gap. The other had found its way back to his mouth.

Who do you think is doing that?

You are.

No. You are.

No, you’re not. You. Don’t. Do. That.

His brows furrowing, he balled his hand into a fist, tight enough for seemingly every one of the small muscles to ache. He bit his lip, his hand trembling there near his face, then brought it down against the desk, the edge of it ramming right into his wrist, and yet, the entire gesture was pitiful. It didn’t even do enough to make the markers strewn across his desk move a single inch.

Don’t you?

…

That’s right. You should be ashamed. You’re weak.

I-it’s alright- It’s not that bad. It was an accident.

You want to do it again.

You don’t. You’re stronger than that.

Are you?

It took some effort, but he loosened his fist, light, fresh indentations already formed in a line across his palm.

What will Bee think?

He’ll forgive you.

Will he? After how much you already put him through?

He doesn’t mind, he tells you so…

Just like you don’t mind when he hurts your feelings?

He means well. That’s what matters. You know that.

Speaking of which, where is he now?

He looked over his shoulder, as if to look at the door, but his gaze didn’t quite make it. Perhaps because he simply didn’t have the will to turn, or perhaps because he didn’t want to risk seeing him there, waiting. It was ridiculous, thinking that he would, yet the thought was there.

You know where he is. You know it can’t be helped.

Can’t be helped indeed. It’s good for him to get away from you and your bullshit.

Kier looked back down to his desk, at the papers he’d been working on.

What makes you think you should be forgiven? What have you done to earn it?

Well-

You don’t have an answer.

You just need a chance to think. You know it’s there.

You’re a liar.

You aren’t. You never have been.

The click of the door sounded somewhere behind him.

Bee-

Why stop now? You can hide it from him.

He flexed his fingers, the tapping of his pen slowing significantly.

This isn’t right-

He never has to know. You won’t need to be forgiven if he doesn’t know.

Light, familiar footsteps, coming closer. Kier set the tip of his pen to his paper, as if he’d been writing. His other hand fell into his lap.

You could do it again. As much as you want. He doesn’t have to know.

Stop! You don’t need this, you don’t want this-

Then stop biting your lip.

The sound of things being set down, a flicker of movement just out of the corner of his eyes, and the feeling of being watched all weighed heavily against him. He did just as his own thoughts had said, hoping that the other young man hadn’t caught the reoccurring habit. The last thing he wanted right now was to be scolded again.

Admit it. Admit it, and you can stop feeling bad about it.

Don’t…

“Kier…?” His companion’s familiar voice, gentle, unsure. It brought the faintest of sad smiles to his lips.

He doesn’t need more worries. And you need whatever release you can get.

He looked up and over to the man now right beside him, only just noticing the hand on his own shoulder.

Bee… Sorry-

“Welcome back, Preston… How was class-?”

… It wasn’t an accident.