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31_days2006-10-14 05:42 pm
acesodapop.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2006-10-14 05:42 pm
14 october . l'auberge espagnole . on my insistence
Title: on my insistence
Day/Theme: 14 oct // cure for the itch
Series: l'auberge espagnole
Character/Pairing: xavier and his mother
Rated: pg-13 for a crass 20-something boy's 'tude
Notes: i just took the SATs (and thus missed yesterday) and today i had my driver's license exam. i had to resist killing everyone off. anyways, there's a weird cynicism in here that's not there normally, and it's awkward!
His mother glanced at him with a squinty sort of look - her eyes were always dewy and wet, like - as he sat stoically at the kitchen table, having a battle of wills with the strong coffee (the French, they love their coffee fresh and bitter) before him. She coughed once, twice.
"I'm glad you came. You're never home anymore." She said lightly, with an air of resentment and mournfulness and maybe some guilt triggers tucked away neatly in the corner. "But I don't see why you couldn't call."
"I'll go back to my apartment right now if you like." Xavier burst out childishly. "Not like I haven't got better things to do, maman--"
"Alright, alright," she turned off the stove and set down the plate, eggs benedict and toast and some gooey vegan shit in the corner, just to spite him. "You're so short-tempered these days." She touched the side of his unshaven face gently with her hand, the cheek warm underneath skin and stubble. Xavier jerked his head away and picked up his fork, shoveling his food in until he was sure she had tiredly left the room.
The egg was shaped a bit like Italy. He shifted some of untouched vegan goo into a shape that uncannily resembled the British Isles. The toast became Spain, his real home, the place where he belonged, or had. He lifted the hot mug and tilted very carefully-- and a small splotchy dot of brown on the bread became Barcelona.
The anger on his face loosened and tightened elsewhere. A secret smile hovered somewhere above his lips, never quite reaching, never quite seeing.
His home.
*
Day/Theme: 14 oct // cure for the itch
Series: l'auberge espagnole
Character/Pairing: xavier and his mother
Rated: pg-13 for a crass 20-something boy's 'tude
Notes: i just took the SATs (and thus missed yesterday) and today i had my driver's license exam. i had to resist killing everyone off. anyways, there's a weird cynicism in here that's not there normally, and it's awkward!
His mother glanced at him with a squinty sort of look - her eyes were always dewy and wet, like - as he sat stoically at the kitchen table, having a battle of wills with the strong coffee (the French, they love their coffee fresh and bitter) before him. She coughed once, twice.
"I'm glad you came. You're never home anymore." She said lightly, with an air of resentment and mournfulness and maybe some guilt triggers tucked away neatly in the corner. "But I don't see why you couldn't call."
"I'll go back to my apartment right now if you like." Xavier burst out childishly. "Not like I haven't got better things to do, maman--"
"Alright, alright," she turned off the stove and set down the plate, eggs benedict and toast and some gooey vegan shit in the corner, just to spite him. "You're so short-tempered these days." She touched the side of his unshaven face gently with her hand, the cheek warm underneath skin and stubble. Xavier jerked his head away and picked up his fork, shoveling his food in until he was sure she had tiredly left the room.
The egg was shaped a bit like Italy. He shifted some of untouched vegan goo into a shape that uncannily resembled the British Isles. The toast became Spain, his real home, the place where he belonged, or had. He lifted the hot mug and tilted very carefully-- and a small splotchy dot of brown on the bread became Barcelona.
The anger on his face loosened and tightened elsewhere. A secret smile hovered somewhere above his lips, never quite reaching, never quite seeing.
His home.
*