glad mishap------------------------

[François Laffont]

Killian did not just say he wanted to see a movie with Franck. Instead, he sort of left it to his decision whether they’d do that someday or not, claiming he would only if the feeling was mutual. At least it was what Franck got from this. Still, he read this as an invitation. Killian wanted him to ask him out, suggest they did watch a movie together. And French was not a necessity, no doubt.

This got Franck thinking. Other guys rarely flirted with him in such clear a way. Well, clear might not be the right word, as Franck was left very confused, but he could no longer doubt there was some of that in the guy’s words. Normally, if he was being treated this way, he was in a club, and they wanted to do something else than watch a movie. Franck thought he had always been the one asking the guy out or admitting his feelings first. There were exceptions of course, but more often than none, he was the one doing so. And getting turned down.

He was not even thinking about whether or not he wanted to go out with Killian. The guy looked very handsome and clearly knew how to behave. Franck was too busy being torn between his habit of turning down the guys who seemed to be interested in nothing but sexual activities with him and the fact he didn’t want to turn him down if he wanted something else like he was always turned down himself. The fact he may or may not be interested in Killian didn’t even come in the equation.

Besides, the moment Franck mentioned his power, something changed within the young man. Franck straightened up, sensing it but not daring admitting that he did. He just said that he could, certainly Killian assumed that he picked that up. He was used to this kind of attitude. Everyone had it when they found it. This feeling Franck could pry into their most private thoughts by knowing exactly how they felt at any time. The fact he was used to it did not make it less painful to Franck though. It always hurt him to sense, even if it was just for a split second, that the relationship he might have with the person just changed.

He flinched though at what Killian said. He was also used to the questions, but it usually were more questions about what kind of emotions he felt, how he felt it or if he could feel theirs right now. Not how he managed to deal with it. “I...” He was at a loss of words to explain it. “You get used to it, I guess.” He couldn’t say he was entirely used and what Killian said after, explaining his situation and how he admired Franck for dealing with his. Now, he really was surprised. Franck was not too good with praise, he tended to minimize his talents. “I can’t say it’s always nice. Sometimes, you wish you didn’t sense what you just felt but... You have to learn that a fleeting emotion doesn’t mean as much as what you can get underneath. And not let it control you.” Somehow, he doubted Killian would still be impressed by him if he saw him in tears because he couldn’t hold it anymore.

Franck was quick to shake his head at Killian’s apology. Sure, he couldn’t say he wholly appreciate being told he’d continue poking into his head but he would not be the first to do this. “I don’t think I can blame someone for not being able to fully control what their power do,” he replied. It was a strange feeling for Franck though, to think he had to watch where his thoughts may take him. He normally was the one people watched themselves around.

Franck was sorry to bring out his brother. In his mind, he was the one who did, although he might not be certain anymore how that happened. Still, it had to be a touchy subject to talk about with someone you just met and as such Franck felt the need to apologize, even if Killian assured there was no need. He nodded as he explained why he made the tattoo. He made another nod as Killian explained his power was the reason for his choice of career. He could understand, since it sort of what the same thing for him. “I think I get it. It’s kind of the same thing for me. True, I can tell how someone feels but I cannot tell why they feel this, what’s the cause. I want to help people when I sense they are down but you need more than their emotions for that, you need the reason behind them too. I thought, well, perhaps I can do something good with this power of mine.” Alright, maybe that part sounded different than Killian’s reasons, but he felt like they could mutually understand one another here. He had a little smile though when Killian admitted that his idea had yet bore any fruit. “People are more than just their thoughts, just like they are more than just their feelings. You can’t get it all with just one piece of the puzzle.”

[Killian Everard Waldorf]

Festinating into conclusions wasn’t Killian’s fashion, as he just frowned before every fuliginous matter and kept a frivolous stance and contemplated everything from afar with an objective pragmatic approach. Neither agreeing nor rebuking the invitation, was Killian taken aback at the silence that ensued the possibility of a tryst in reference to his new penchant for French. ‘ A no, I presume ’ he mulled over the deem for an instance with a speck of uncertainty – if he showed too much persistence on such affair he could be misled into believing he wished for something more than a seventh art beholding in the company of someone who would actually appreciate it. Honestly, Killian’s acquaintances weren’t piqued by such inanities as art films and good classic music or literature – perhaps it was too good to be true that someone could eventually find such trifle worthwhile. The bloke sighed, quite unobtrusively, just for the conspicuous bloating of his chest before the exhalation that could seem so evident to anyone around him (it couldn’t still be linked to what he was minding within his head, as it wasn’t that logic). Wordlessly they both opted to ditch the subject and keep forth into something else.

Killian scrutinised through every thought of his before he smiled genuinely at François’ loss of words upon his interrogation session, which more than interrogation – as with everything else regarding this particular fellow, it was an aloud soliloquy. “ How could someone get wonted to it? ” his lips puckered and he even snorted a little at the absurdity of it. “ I can accustom myself to not stirring my tea after two sugar cubes and for the anticipation of swilling the last dulcet drops of it, burdened with such sweetness ” he sipped from the mug, almost as a reflex to his words, “ I can accustom myself to having someone’s hand above mine, or mine above someone else’s ” unconsciously, he clasped François’ hand, again, only for a second or so, just to let go off it, “ And of course, I can accustom myself to rousing at dawn every morning, if necessary ” and then he listened to the rest of his explanation, where he had no choice but to nod with reticence. “ Clever ” he smiled widely “ Pretty clever, monsieur ” he nibbled on his lips for an instance, “ I believe it works different with sentiments than it does with thoughts. My head burns with all those deems that come to it and I can barely muster and discern through them. It’s like if a horde of people would be attempting to talk to you at once ” he shook his head slowly and let out a sigh, “ I go bonkers, every time ” he laughed shortly.

“ Whenever I think of sentiments, I couldn’t envision more than one withheld in someone’s mind. Because they all work mentally, just like thoughts, but their effects are quite drastically and poignantly different ” he mimicked with his hands, gesturing the shape of a ball before him, “ How can someone feel so much at the same time? ” he truly admired François, “ Even when they seem, as you describe them, fleeting. I’m truly mesmerised by you, François ” he pointed out, making emphasis on it. Neglecting the fact that he didn’t seem comfortable around his slightly unctuous behaviour. “ I would even understand if it’s too much to cope with it ” he said, with a brief, yet sincere grin.

“ I’ve learnt to concentrate on specific titbits and hearing that specific thought I want to know about, since we aren’t normally ruled by a single thought, but a mare magnum of images and words. It isn’t like I can actually see what you’re thinking, but more of a glimpse of what you’re pondering on ” he licked his lips and smiled “ Like when I asked you about watching the film together and, I ignore why, I glimpsed through night clubs images, flashing rapidly through your head, and people smiling back at you, from what I could gather ” perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned it, but it could aid him understanding his posture, a little. “ Hope you don’t mind my snooping, since I’m not exactly interested in sussing the relation between the French film and that ” he laughed lightly, but was promptly vindicated, “ I just found it, odd, yet whimsical ” he made a pause, “ And I am now utterly embarrassed that I had confessed that to you ” his cheeks flushed a smidge, “ It’s the first time I attempt to put it down to words ” he laughed quite coy.

Killian couldn’t keep his eyes off the French lad and his brief addition to his philosophical monologue, and thence, his attention emulated his eyes and pinned upon him, “ Not for you to think of me as a selfish individual, but I never considered my… Gift? Is that how I would call it? ” he waited a couple of seconds incapable of collecting a proper word for it and carried on “ I didn’t think I could put my ability into an altruist purpose ” he tutted at himself “ shame on me. Such a pity ” he let out a short laugh, “ I have yet so much to learn ”

“ I know there’s more than what the eyes meet, and beyond deems and sentiments. It’s the merge of all these factors, along with the memories and experiences that forge us all ” he downed his eyes to the plate below him and forked a chunk of sausage with eggs to usher them to his mouth. He sipped from his tea mug, again. “ Pieces of the puzzle. I love that idea ” he grinned (a practise he wasn’t wonted to, at all), “ Well, I believe it’s a massive puzzle with uncountable pieces, really. But I trust we’re closer to decipher it, progressively ” the bloke had another morsel of food and another swill of his beverage before retrieving visual contact with François “ I’ve always felt attracted to the enigma, but then you read Freud and everything is reduced to the posterior end of the body in different stages of life and craves ” he laughed longer than due, “ Takes a little to assimilate it, truly ”

tag: François Laffont

[François Laffont]

Franck still remained quite puzzled about Killian. It was beyond the language barrier. He knew English but he never heard it spoken quite like that before. It was like talking to Shakespeare or some writer from the Victorian era. This brought back a memory when he struggled at understand Poe’s poem The Raven and how another guy, as handsome as this one next to him was, helped him out. Maybe he should have agreed to the book castle, who knows where that would have led them. But it was all in the past now. Franck was not even sure what this guy was doing now for a living, getting but very sporadic reports of his life through social medias and mutual acquaintances. It was best to stay with the one he had in front of him. If he started talking without him focusing on his words, Franck was not sure how well he’d get what he was talking about, even if it would be something as simple as the weather or the content of his plate.

At first, Franck didn’t know where he was getting but he quickly understood where this monologue was going. He barely flinched this time at the contact of Killian’s hand on his but he did lower his gaze to look upon it. “If you had a constant pain or a limp or something that makes it harder on you, something that you know no matter what you do will always stay, you have no choice but to get used to it. After a while, it’s still there but it becomes normality. You still feel it but you don’t mind it anymore. Not unless it gets worse.” Certain crowds still remained hard on Franck. He had to be in the best dispositions possible and in full control of his power to go to a club. And preferably being accompanied with someone. As for concerts or sport events, he was still unsure just how well he could take it. The amount of people feeling the same thing at the same time was too much for him.

He had a faint smile as Killian explained how his power worked. “It’s a little like that too for me. Unless I’m close to someone, physically I mean, or that I focus on that person, it’s just one big wave of emotion coming straight at me and I can’t discern what it’s made of at all. Sometimes, an emotion is a little stronger, so I can notice it, but most of the time it feels like... it’s hard to say. It’s a little hard to breathe at first, like going into a stuffy room, but you adjust and once that happens, you can act almost like this is nothing.” Franck hated insinuating he had it hard. He was feeling, that sounded so lame. He was not putting anyone, not even himself in danger. The worst that could happen was for him to overreact on the emotional overload he got. In other words, his power could turn him into a diva. This was not worthy of complaining about it. Not when some could very well die one day because of their power. Or kill someone.

At the same time, he was ready to pity Killian as much as he felt the need to be pitied for his ability. The fact Franck was too modest to allow people to be sorry for him did not mean he couldn’t give that to others in a similar situation as his. He shook his head at what Killian said. “Actually, people are a mix of feelings. And there are many layers too. You have their core, what they always seem to feel, whatever the situation. It sorts of helps knowing just how deeply they can feel too. Then you have the emotions that come from the situation they’re in right now, and the conversation they’re having or just the person they’re sitting next to... Sometimes, I can feel how much two people appreciate one another, then they play a game and the loser starts hating the winner. Yet, once the game is done, they’re back to being friends, because that didn’t change within them just because they lost a stupid game,” he tried to explain. He blushed and looked down, trying to cover the nervous smile his compliment caused. Being mesmerised by him? He didn’t think he deserved any of that. His smile was still on when he looked up at Killian’s face. “It can be rough sometimes,” he admitted in a whisper. There was no point in being too modest either. The guy knew exactly what Franck was going through, even if he experienced it with something different.

Franck nodded while listening to his explanation about his power but startled, rather surprised about what he picked up from him. He was a tad embarrassed and no doubt the blush and unease smile returned on his face. “I was probably wondering if this was your way of hitting on me,” he admitted after a moment during which he pondered whether he should tell him or not, only to figure out hiding a thought from someone who could read his mind might not be the wisest thing to do. “Oh you don’t, have to feel embarrassed,” he said quickly, something that probably was ironic, since he felt that himself right now. He probably read too much into Killian’s offer for the film and now he was embarrassed of this.

Franck’s eyes widened a little, although not of shock because of what Killian said. That the guy did not mean to use his power for the good of the people was not an issue. Franck did not expect everyone to try and do that. He may feel the need to do it, it was important for him to do something good with his power, but he didn’t ask that of everyone else. Just that they didn't use it to hurt others. Now that would upset him. However, his wide eyes were the result of his confusion as he was not sure if Killian was being serious or not here. In doubt, he preferred not to say anything. Speaking about the puzzle that was human nature was, by far, a lot easier. “Maybe we’re not meant to decipher it all,” he simply replied. Franck was not entirely against that thought. It was like God. He couldn’t say whether there really was one, and so if there was a hell and a heaven, but he accepted that it was not his place to know that. It was not call faith for nothing.

[Killian Everard Waldorf]

Opposite to a within normalcy behaviour, the bloke stood still with sight fixated upon the interlocutor as the foreign emitted the message his ears pricked to, with a wanton thoughtful gesture shaping across his features. It was rare on his nature to just listen and sush, in a reticent notion that was mildly soothing, in a mysterious and perhaps devious manner. " Sounds like a cinch by the way you describe it " he mused aloud, placing a hand below his jawline and unconsciously edging the contour of his neck (a quirk of a meditative mien). " still, I'm gawking with awe at it " he mentioned before having a little sip from the tea mug. " I haven't accustomed myself to the dulcet, sometimes, and bickering, every now and then, tones in my head " he summed up with a simper, " Not quite yet, at least " he chuckled summarily, " I couldn't even ascertain if I ever will " the bloke placed the mug on the table and leant forth, having a slightly hunched back and propping his frame by the verge of the table, whisking closer towards François. " Perhaps, you might instruct me on how to accomplish such toil "



Slipping off the banter, Killian inspected the expression on François' veneer when he construed his perspective on the effects his ability reflected physiologicallly upon him. On Killian's behalf he couldn't exactly depict the horrors and the wonders of his knack for reading people, which progressively and gradually evolved into a penetrating minds might. " I played the clots once whilst venturing into a massive throng before an spectacle... I believe it's called Coachella, and it's a musical marvel that I couldn't endure for more than 10 minutes, or so... " he muttered, plainly, as though he was amidst blarney with an old acquaintance of his, " I ended up beholding at it from the parking area, just surmounted on the back of a pickup vehicle " he laughed sheepishly and shook his head with a faltering notion still vivid in his head (François should be able to sense a pang of vacuum within his thorax - by the pit of his stomach), " I enjoyed myself quite plenty afterwards, though " he admitted, quite proudly. The Scottish was someone to bask in musical festivals as he was a complete melody maniac.



When he boarded the topic of sentiments layers and how human beings could be comprised of, Killian's curiosity swelled and he could even envision himself discussing about pertinent matters with him in the future - he was pretty groggy about feigning listening to inanities and trivial themes for a ' conversation' with the majority of students he was mired with. " Right into the marrow " he quipped naturally, in reference to the analogy he had employed - which personally, he had loved. " Hatred is immanent to human demeanour. We are prone to go berserk before anything with the sufficient momentum to destabilise us, and even make us capsize " he entwined his hands in front of himself in a perusing manoeuvre, " I love the fact you had synthetised it to a simple quarrel after a videogame " he grinned, " I'm always told that I overcomplicate things, and I reckon I know why " he nibbled on his lower lip for an instance or so and downed his gaze to his food, " You just evoked an epiphany in me, François. Thank you " since the perimeter wasn't spanned for a single gaggle girding them, Killian could actually concentrate on François, solely, with some feeble and muffled whispers of deems crossing his mind, every now and then, " It is rough, indeed. At least, I've been through occasions in which I couldn't discern between my own thoughts and whatever everyone's were. I can only infer you might go through a similar stance with sentiments "



Every interpretation could signify a passel of conjectures and muddling concepts about permeating into someone's mind and attempting to decrypt whatever conundrum was concealed within, and Killian hadn't ever received an oral response to such deems but merely waddled through his own perceptions about them; nonetheless, he had been enlightened about what he had seen, and for once, it all could withhold a meaning, at last. Killian always took everything in the most literal manner - for which he was bound to err quite oft about fathoming devious ideas - such as sarcasm. Somewhere deep down his unconscious mind, Killian could sense the release of dopamine and oxytocin, rushing through his neural connections and the stimuli that ensued. Wordlessly, he had been courting him, in his own fashion. He thought he had been plain blatant from the commence of it, though it seemed he hadn't. " I am growing fonder of your company with every second past of this little reunion, François, and I believed I was being sufficiently flagrant. I see I must endeavour more " he laughed shortly before showing an ample grin lighting up his veneer, " Well, yes. I admit there's just something alluring about your persona that it's quite magnetising " he licked his lips for a moment, " which I'm rendered defenceless against, honestly "



Sigmund Freud was a representative figure of psychology and mostly every reference to psychoanalysis and the motives behind certain quirks, although his eisegeses were sexually inferred - that's what he meant about reading Freud, and he was hoping he hadn't taken that the wrong way. Killian remitted to grant another speck of his opinion instead " I'm merely obsessed with the overall of cerebral capacity and human relationships. I'm basing my thesis on these arguments, since nowadays ships have been altered drastically through technology " the bloke extracted his mobile phone from his pocket, " Principal reason why I am this detached from most of these gadgets " he stowed it back into place, " people change through them, and unless it's a real call where you can actually hear someone else's voice, then it's not real. Whatever everything else might involve " he grinned, purely out of routine (it had become a habit, in French presence), " Besides, it's the only communication channel where I can talk to someone without knowing what's going through his/her head at the moment " he didn't mean to humour the situation, as it just presented itself before them, " It's quite preferable to listen to one voice at a time, rather than flashes of images and deems "



" I didn't insist on it because I presumed my persistency could be mistaken with having an urgency of something else " he sipped from the mug, and the tea was almost shallow, mildly moisturising his lips, just as the contents on his plate were being reduced, as well, " I, however, would love to make my whims evident and make a formal invitation for you to spending some time together, under whatever conditions you are befitting with " he smiled amply, resorting to have another bite at his meal.

tag: François Laffont

[François Laffont]

Was Killian making fun of him? He didn't think so, as he did not perceive anything of the like. But the poor guy could understand about half of what the other one was saying. The thought popped in his mind that he hoped he was not talking like that in French also otherwise Franck might not even understand him in his language and that would be a bit humiliating. He dared not ask Killian to speak an English that was more common though, partly because he thought it was disrespectful but also because he feared this may be more common than he thought. Then again, he had been living here long enough now and he did not recall hearing people talking quite like that, at least not all of the time. So, instead, Franck did his best to understand what he was saying without admitting that he was sometimes struggling.

Franck looked down at the remains of their meal as Killian talked. “I can’t say I enjoy it all the time. It can be pretty rough and overwhelming. But, in the end, it’s painful only to me. I don’t... I don’t like complaining when others have it rougher than I do.” Franck was forced to stop though and startled slightly when he noticed how much closer Killian was to him. When did he move? And what was that? He wanted Franck to show him how he did it? “I...” he blushed a little and chuckled at his own reaction. This was so silly. It actually helped him regain some composure and look straight back at Killian to say “I simply don’t want it to affect who I am. I like being around people. Sure, it can be hard at times with my power, but I don’t want to use it as an excuse to stay away from the rest of the world.”

Again, François had the impression he was subtly hitting on him. And that the reason why he was this ‘subtle’ was solely Franck’s fault, like he could tell he shouldn’t be too forward with him. He chased that thought away, forced himself to focus on the conversation rather than what might be implied. He had an amused smile at the mention of a show. “I tried a sport event. It was just the school but the moment a team scored, everyone got excited and I thought my heart would give up on me, I had to leave.” He tried some more over time and he supposed he could do better now but it was still something he’d rather avoid. Or do as little as possible. “I can’t even go to a club or a party if I don’t have someone with me I can try to focus my power on when it gets too much.” Franck could still remember how he almost stopped breathing at some point during prom, all this because, as the king, he had to dance and too much people joined in. Luckily, leaving the crowd calmed things enough for him to breathe properly again. He smiled again to Killian. “You see, you’re already doing what I do. You don’t let your power prevent you from doing what you really like.” He didn’t think he could teach the guy anything then. The fact he did not believe he was a teacher was also a reason for him not to know what he could show him.

Franck tried his best to explain his power, how it worked and how the emotions were layered on top of another to make a person. He laughed at Killian’s words though also felt a tad embarrassed. This just led him to keep smiling at the guy once the laughter was gone. “Those kinds of emotions have no roots. It’s not ingrained in us, it just hits us then goes away as quickly as it came up.” He showed an expression of innocent surprise when told his words touched Killian so much. Could he really do that? He wanted to, of course, but he didn't think he had done anything for that right now. Franck nodded at Killian’s words. He knew it was tough and yes, the confusion occurred also with emotions. “I had a trainer who taught me meditation to help, but I suppose you already have your own techniques.” He also understood what Killian was getting at with technology and the desire to speak with one person without their thoughts flooding the guy’s brain at the same time. He listened, nodding in agreement. At the same time, he had many friends he only talked to through mails nowadays, but they were old friends of his he could not see any other way. Not to add that a phone call from France would not come cheap. He doubted it was what Killian was getting at though so he did not mention this in the conversation.

François could pretend all he wanted so far that the idea Killian was flirting with him only came from him and was not real but Killian now voiced it quite clearly. Franck did not hide his surprise at this, despite the fact Killian claimed he had been obvious with it from the start. He was ready to be more now. He was magnetic? Franck was speechless at this. He couldn’t say he was used to this. It happened before, of course, but Franck had always be modest if not shy when that happened. As Killian guessed, the reason why Franck was normally so shy about this was precisely because other motives than the pleasure of his company often were the reasons why they came to him. Franck would not judge someone for liking casual hookups but it certainly was not for him. “You... you’re asking me on a date?” Said like this, after what Killian said, it sounded so childish. He blushed at that. But it was what had been implied, right? Killian was asking him out after admitting his interest for him. Who would have thought a blow to the head could lead to that!

[Killian Everard Waldorf]

It was not completely deliberate that Killian expressed himself with such eloquence and abundance of flourishing; partly, it was his provenance, and the lineage he somehow complemented with his blood heritage - however, it wasn't precisely linked to a poised goaded livelihood or a lush infancy. Killian had learnt to devour books within hours of lecture and to assimilate the contents. Something that was no secrecy at all and that all people could easily regard at was that he collected all the pieces of words he read of or he even heard of. With a rousing fascination upon new words and the recursive necessity to augment his vocabulary, he intended to employ such learnt lexicon and apply it to a daily basis. He believed that generations had besmirched and corrupted language as it was and that it was in his hands to at least preserve it for himself. That, and the English phrasal expressions that came from the UK. He couldn't dissimulate a muffled laugh when he thought of the myriads of people who couldn't exactly understand him - teachers included. He would still attempt to communicate in a less intricate manner to him, nonetheless.

Killian could not equivocate at first impressions, and it was often a pleasure of him to attempt to decipher at someone's deems before even read them. How could this be parallel to François? He had somehow expected someone that besides of chiselled features would beckon to a kindness of heart and perhaps be more than just a handsome French bloke - he never flawed at it, and he hadn't done it with him, either. How come he was this humble? Killian could not pierce through it, because that wouldn't figure within his mind, but quite deeper into his soul - something he sometimes felt relinquished from. Had him sincerely not noticed when he whisked forth and closer to him? He couldn't do anything to suss it, barring the possibility of asking him and unveiling the doubts, but that wouldn't be righteous. ' Is he really flushing? ' he scrutinised with his eyes, able to detect the reddish prominent hue that out-standed the paleness of his integument. " I'm stumped " he exclaimed, with his words replete of a hint of scepticism, " You can't be this noble, selfless and caring. That doesn't figure within any aspect of anyone I've ever met " it escaped him, and after a whit of introspection he smiled, quite bashfully, " And as for the question you surreptitiously implied... No. I can't say whether I revel on people's accompaniment, or not " he laughed lowly and let his look fell upon his plate, " As you can witness so, I tend to ostracise myself " he made a hand gesture for him to peek around himself and the notorious place devoid of human presences.

As he spoke, he could revive the rush of adrenaline that rushed through his veins and the euphoria that such event had awakened in him, thusly, it was no surprise that his heartbeats sped up their pace just about a flutter ahead their rhythm, with a conspicuous smirk forming upon his lips, " I've never been to a match... Call it whatever you wish " another chuckled slipped through his mouth, " Which sport was the one unravelling before you? " he nipped on his lower lip - there seemed to be a bundle of matters that still remained unbeknownst to him, and that was a little enthralling to Killian. " As long as you maintain a conscious mind. I believe it's an ambivalent gift " he jested, slightly, " You must have a love-hatred rapport with it " he stated, " It's seizing by moments. I cannot assert that I'm even close to become proficient on it. Being welled with thoughts; at times mirth, at times they make you question your path and at times they just force you to simper and flee " he couldn't hold a snort that transformed into a laugh " Not all thoughts are worth mentioning or reasonable, for that matter " he gathered the ' club ' mention and he couldn't help but to shrug, " I prefer not to attend those slums, although I can be quite persuaded into it. It's not that I don't look fondly at it, but, I reckon the environment is propitious for unwanted scenarios, and you don't even need my power to surmise it " he let his head wiggled with an ample smile " We detain from living when we let matters deter us from it, for whatever simple or complex such might be " he made a pause to have a slurp from the tea, " I resorted to someone who helped me see that the only thing halting you, is yourself "

" I would embrace the possibility with contentment that those sentiments were fleeting and ephemeral. Perhaps I just need someone to attest such sophisms might be true " he wouldn't let go off the idea that human nature was prone to be maleficent and pernicious, unless he was inveigled into believing there would exist exceptions to the rule, and possibly neglect the Nietschze side and grant Kant an opportunity of vindication. The prude German still had a bash at convincing him that humanity wasn't as rotten as the actual world deipcted so. It was not as though it was like it, but the bloke held those ingrained assumptions way down deep of himself to just forgo them. Nonetheless, it was good that he deviated the topic into something else, as he didn't love the idea of seeming bigoted, thusly, he decided on not following the course of the debate and just swerve the route, " I've never had a bash at it, honestly. Has it proven to be effective as due? " Killian had been informed and admonished about meditation and its wonderful benefits, though all he could envision was mind hoarding thoughts and impossible to become blank, " I might give it a chance, eventually " he muttered, " I admittedly don't spare any technique to soothe the voices down. I'm quite wonted to simply isolate myself. It's good that it's not of a large range, though " he chuckled lightly, " 5 metres around me, to be exact " he licked his lips a little to aid them regaining humidity, " 10 at bizarre odds "

" You are truly adorable, François " he said with a vibrant smile that could have eclipsed the ones from before. " Oui, monsieur. Voulez vous? " he remarked in a slightly impious air, arching a brow as he grinned at him, " If you brood on it with detail, it's not too distinct from what we are at, nonce " he explained succinctly, yet not curtly, with an evident hint of diversion on almost every utterance, " with an insignificant difference: you would be aware of my infatuation " he let a short laugh out and proceeded, " with fancy clothing instead of the school uniforms, and an ounce of more privacy and intimacy; which would translate into a more personal environment of discovering each other mutually and profoundly " his voice trailed off as he forked the last bits on his plate into his bouche and quaffed from the mug of tea until the last drop was consumed.

tag: François Laffont

[François Laffont]

Franck looked up at Killian, rather surprised when he confessed his confusion. Did Franck say something he did not understand? Or maybe it was an action of his? His eyes were big and it was clear he did not get what he could have said or done to leave Killian with that impression. When he explained further, Franck’s gaze grew even wider if possible before he looked down at the table. He was a tad embarrassed and tried to chase that away with a timid laugh. “I wouldn’t say I’m noble. Or selfless. I just...” He paused a moment, trying to explain with as little words as possible. He thought he could mention his religion but he felt it would just give the wrong impression of who he was. He was not a good boy only because he was Christian. It may play a part but he knew what played a bigger one. Only, he didn’t feel like sharing that bit of his life to someone he knew not that much of when you think about it. “I guess I need to be the one supporting others as much as they need me to support them? No, now I sound too selfish.” He laughed again, clearly still embarrassed. “It’s just how I am.” There really was no other way he could express it, it seemed.

Killian wouldn’t be the first one to ostracise himself as he said. Many seemed to shelter themselves in such a way, making Franck sometimes wonder if he was not the weird one. His gaze followed Killian’s hand as he showed the room around them. It was a reflex, he did not realise he did it. “I don’t think it has to be a bad thing. It only means you’re maybe not as sociable as other people. Not that I mean it in a bad way,” he said, quickly lifting a hand to stop him in case he took offense in his words. “We all need the presence of others, just not in the same way.” Did that mean he was dependent of others? Franck never quite thought of it that way but now he wondered. He chased that thought away real quick however.

Killian said he never saw a game. Just like Franck never saw a concert, so he supposed they were even there. “Oh, uh football. The American one, not the sport we call football,” he explained. He had a smile at this. It kind of felt good to have someone who could understand what he went through with the difference of language. He loved America. He considered himself American now, since he’d been here for almost a decade already. But there were still certain things he could complain about and it was nice to have someone he could do that with without feeling bad. He didn’t want the others to think he was ungrateful or disrespectful. It was far from that.

It was also nice to talk about his power, complain almost, without feeling like he’s asking to be pitied over something that isn’t too bad in the end. Killian understood the kind of relationship you can have with such a power, he had one, in a way, similar. “So do you, surely,” Franck replied. He barely had the time to say this before Killian already proved him right, sharing his experience on the matter and how he felt about his own ability. He nodded although stopped when he started laughing, waiting to know exactly what made him laugh about this for he did not think it was the kind of response you’d normally have at the end of such a reply. He blinked a few times at the reason. “Well, yes, I suppose you’re right.” He certainly felt like he must have thought a few silly thoughts during their conversation too.

He had a slightly amused smile at his opinion on clubs. “I joined the track team mostly because I wanted to train and knew I wouldn’t find the time on my schedule if it was not set already. And I had friends in there,” he explained with a light chuckle. Sounded like a silly reason but it had been enough for him. Besides, it was better than to go to one where he’d have to get a lot of physical contacts with others, since that would be hard on him.

Franck had a drastically different opinion on mankind. True, men were able to terrible deeds but he wanted to believe people were good inside. When a tragedy occurred, everyone was gathering around to help. It had to mean something. At the very least, he tried to do the best he could at every occasion given to him. Hearing something different was not easy for Franck, as he was forced to witness the bad in people, something he’d rather brush off if he could. Because of that, he was grateful they would not extend on the matter and choose another topic to talk about. He nodded at Killian’s question. “It worked for me, at least. I take deep breaths, close my eyes and start looking at every emotions gathered inside of me and just let them go,” he explained, putting his hand on his chest as if grabbing something there and making it fly away. His smile reappeared as Killian said he may try and talked further of his power. “Being in class must be really bothersome.” Franck knew that feeling well. At first, he could not even be in a class with the rest of the students. Another reason why he was a year behind everyone else his age.

Again, surprise took him as he was being called adorable. He should be used to this but it always brought a timid smile to his lips, embarrassed of such a compliment. And he was clearly asking him out, in French no less. Wearing his clothes instead of the uniform was tempting and he had to admit that, aside from the language that sometimes left him puzzled, he didn’t dislike the boy’s company. As to saying he was infatuated too, he was not sure. Killian was obviously handsome but Franck tended to be careful at first. He knew the moment he started to feel something for a person, he no longer was and he didn’t want to go too far, too soon. “Uhm...” and he chuckled after that. “Yes, alright. Alright, we could... I’d like to see you again.” What would happen after that? He was not sure but he preferred not to think of it, in case it ended up with Killian only appreciating his friendship or, worse, not wanting something serious and only the fun in a relationship.

[Killian Everard Waldorf]

Killian felt ensnared by the tremor on the voice and the flickering eyes that averted his own, for instances, just as though he wasn't capable of staring back at him. François figured within the most emblematic blokes he had ever seen, and he hadn't just gathered that from a simple bearing, or the veneer that he maintained. The Scottish man mulled over it for a second or so and let his contagious timid smile reflected on him as he denied every reminiscence of him attributed as selfless. Although his weak strives at demonstrating he wasn't such, ended up making him appear otherwise. Killian lowered his head a little, craning his neck downwards as he hid the laugh that threatened to escape him. " Your modesty precedes you, François. It's completely ineffable " he said with a grin, and let him finish, " Exactly the demeanour we should all intend to cling to. One in a million " he stressed, plainly certain on his words, as he knew so was him.



Perusing on the interrelationships that connected one individual to a gaggle was not a matter that concerned Killian. It hadn't just been the might of his mental ability the one edging him towards seclusion, but quite the dead of his brother the one that had ignited, or better off, extinguished the flame of life that had been ever so vibrant qnd lucid on him. Having that necessity of renouncing to his provenance and the mirth of livelihood could only attest to forging a derision to the world itself - to neglect it as a whole, along with its inhabitants. " Not sociable. A mild manner to expose my inability to mingle " he muttered, yet it was loud enough for François to harken to. " For the most inhospitable it might sound, I strongly believe I can do without their company. Although, I admittedly reckon some companies are indispensable for our existence " he couldn't help to curve his lips upwards, as he attempted not to give him absolute advantage over almost everything he endeavoured on differing with. " I am dependent on certain people. I must confess so " he felt invaded by a bashful notion that stemmed at the pit of his stomach.



" Rugby's almost, then " Killian never meant any derisive remark when making that statement that almost erupted from his mouth before he could even think it through. It happened so often that his brain was linked to his bouche and he couldn't control what was exhaled at nonce. " You and I are in full awareness that is not what football is, but we should spare them the trial " he jested, having a quick sip from the mug of tea before darting his attention towards him, once more. " I have solely watched them through telly, but you can sense the emotions through it. It's exhilarating, indeed " he mentioned, quite lightly, " I have witnessed a few, real football, ones " he nodded to himself and remembered the adrenaline that rushed relentlessly through his veins prior to that massive throe just about the decisive goal at the end of the match. " It's different. It does feel like it "



" Absolutely preposterous. Nonetheless, I can't elude the thought it is wrong to penetrate into their minds without their consent " the bloke wished to conceal the ardour that was forming in his chest, gestating out of remorse and guilt. " Their privacy and secrecy is unveiled, without them having a single notion about it " he uttered, with his sight lost in the distance, " I wouldn't love others snooping on my affairs " he shrugged the ignoble deem of conceiving himself as an intruder on people's lives - it was an ignominious act.



" Track team? " he rephrased aloud and only then could him assimilate it thoroughly. " I had envisioned a totally distinct sort of clubs " he briefed up containing the laughter, " I had understood we were discussing on night clubs. Which I rather exclude from my frequent reunion locations " with that clarified and fathomed, he felt in need of sharing his opinion about the track team after that glad mishap. " My apologies on such blunder. I do not withhold snide remarks for training, regardless of how it is done " his teeth formed on a visible line right under his lips, in a bemusement gesture. " Actually, I train, myself. I trot whenever possible. It helps cleansing my mind "



" If it does marvels on you, it might function on me, as well " Killian expressed his deems with a pretty convinced attitude, " As long as the request of rendering my mind into a blank stance remains inexistent " he adhered with a simper that quickly evolved into a chuckle and then he simply burst into writhing laughter. As he deepened into the abhorrent phase classes were, he simply let his head beckoned to his words, about the execrable matter. " It is no secret that I span quite a room for the lessons. I don't let people around me at lectures " there was nothing that could describe his situation better than that simple sentence. Killian didn't wish to vent about his woes, and in this case, it was futile and to no use, " Picture an inverse magnet "



Anticipation withered Killian from the inside as he could even sense the clawing verge of his teeth gritting against the plump surface of his lips. The simple response of François could reveal nothing but a huge brilliant grin to cover his factions, " Well, then, if you would permit me to, I'd love to give you two sets of invitations " Killian construed as he turned around a little to extract a torn piece of paper from it along a pen. He scrawled something on it: ' Killian Everard Waldorf ' with his mobile number below, " An invitation to call me whenever you wish " he smiled amply and sought for his palm to hand him the note, " And an invitation to meet me this Friday at 8 o'clock at the main entrance. 4 nights from now " he grinned at him and almost reached out for his hand, but he restrained himself from doing so. " It's been a genuine pleasure to meet you, François " he clenched the mug and his empty plate and stacked them together, adding the cutlery he had employed for eating. He slung his satchel over his shoulder and straightened up with a subtle leap. " I must flee, but I'm really looking forward to this Friday " the bloke out jutted his right hand and waited for François to shake it in a farewell bid before heading off to the counter, stowing the filthy dishes atop and having a final glance at the handsome French and a gentle wave of the hand just about shoving the cafeteria crystal doors open and disappearing into the throng.

tag: François Laffont