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Dorian Montoir
You can coax the cold right outta me,drape me in your warmth
Sun Mar 18, 2018 06:14
112.65.61.223

Dorian was feeling low. It had started the previous day in Defence Against the Dark arts, he supposed. Or maybe before that and that had just not helped… It wasn’t like he was still mad about it or anything. He knew it had been an accident, and that Nathaniel had been both mortified and incredibly apologetic. But he had had a day where he’d effectively been punched in the face, and that was never going to be great for anyone’s mood. And especially not for someone for whom school was usually the safe, calm place where he didn’t have to worry about such things… They were past the midway point of term, and he knew the weeks would slide by and before he knew it he’d be heading home, and all his complicated feelings about that – about how guilty he felt about not being happier at the prospect, how he felt he was letting down his mother and Émilie by not being able to look forward to it with his whole heart, all the anxiety he felt about having to be around his brother – were resurfacing. He would have liked nothing more than to spend the evening with his friends. Well… He wasn’t sure he could be buoyed by Tatya’s enthusiasm right now. It sometimes worked, she could be very good for low moods. But he wanted comfort and sympathy and gentleness. He wanted Jehan. However, Dorian had his shift as a library monitor and he wasn’t one to shirk responsibilities he had taken on, as he knew that was bad and irresponsible. And it was a principle he very much hoped he would have been committed to even if he hadn’t arranged his library duties to coincide with the times that Jehan was unavailable anyway, due to baking club and orchestra.

Dorian slunk into the library, looking preoccupied with less than happy thoughts. His personality had two markedly different modes most of the time – when with his friends, he was cheerful and animated, smiling easily, whilst with people he didn’t know so well, that person tended to hide away, and he was decidedly more quiet and reserved, though in neither case did he appear miserable, as he did now. On his own, he could sometimes slip into introspection, and it wasn’t unheard of to find him dwelling on less than pleasant things, although it was rarer, and not a side of him most people would immediately think of. To add to his bad mood, a sting of cold air hit him as he entered the library. It had been verging on sweater weather all week, though being Canadian he was staunchly refusing to be the first to cave in. He had forgotten the library’s tendency to be a couple of degrees cooler than everywhere else. He hunched in on himself, further adding to the sullen air. It was going to be a miserable couple of hours, and he felt further disappointed because he normally quite enjoyed his library time, and it seemed such a waste to be stuck in this awful mood.

It was almost unbearable to know that he would round the next corner and see the table where the Club of Tongues usually met sitting empty. He wished again for some company. Especially that of his favourite person… He couldn’t help but imagine rounding the corner and seeing Jehan sitting there, even though he knew that wasn’t going to happen And, in his mind, the rest of the library was empty, and his responsibilities could wait, and he could just sink into Jehan like he did when they were in MARS, and everything would stop feeling so awful. A hug would bring him both comfort and some much needed warmth. Coming up to their usual table, his first thought was that the universe was teasing him. It was not, of course, a hug, which could not exist independent of the person giving it, but draped over the back of Jehan’s usual seat was something he very much needed. But he couldn’t just borrow some random sweater he found lying around the library. He would have to leave it at the librarian’s desk and carry on shivering. But as he got a closer look, he realised that the universe had not been so cruel after all. It was cable knit, the pattern familiar as he ran his fingers over it, and royal blue, a couple of shades darker than its owner’s eyes in a way that made them stand out all the more. He knew this sweater. He knew its owner wouldn’t mind, and would rather he was warm. He pulled it on slowly, taking a moment as it went over his head to breathe in the comforting, familiar smell. They were almost exactly the same size, and it fit him perfectly. His arms slid into the sleeves, and then he wrapped them around himself, finding the comfort and security he had been craving. His gloomy air vanished. His smile was almost the one he had when Jehan was in front of him, the one that no one else got; the delicate, happy smile of someone who felt warm both outside and in.

Had anyone else had an eye on the table, they would have been able to confirm that Dorian’s initial fear had been correct. And that, until just before he had rounded the corner, the table and all of its chairs had indeed stood empty.

    • Put me at easeDorian Montoir and Jehan Callahan, Fri Apr 6 09:57
      (OOC - cowritten) There was something therapeutic and soothing about putting books away. It felt like making a little corner of the universe neat and tidy, and it gave Dorian’s brain some much needed ... more
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