Post by Maxwell Green on May 3, 2007 16:22:57 GMT -5
Eleven o'clock, AM.
Maxwell Green was suddenly jolted awake by the loud music bursting through the speakers of his stereo. Luckily for him, it worked as an alarm clock, or else he probably would've never woken up. Or maybe that wasn't such a 'lucky' thing. But, it was Saturday, so whether he got out of bed at eleven in the morning or six at night, it didn't really make much difference.
Very little light shown through the windows, though it was quite a beautiful day outside. Sun shining, birds chirping, teenagers running amok down below on the ground floor. But, Max's black curtains kept out most of the light. He liked it that way... it let him sleep longer and easier. He was a very light sleeper, which was probably why he didn't get much sleep. Max would wake up at the smallest noise or the tiniest bit of light, and would not be able to get back to sleep. So, he made sure everything was dark. Plus, he liked the night better than the day. It was quieter and there weren't as many people around... well, then again, that might depend on where you are.
He sighed, laying there in bed listening to the music, pounding from the speakers to his head. On a steady diet of soda pop and Ritalin... no one ever died for my sins in hell, as far as I can tell; at least the ones I got away with. And there's nothing wrong with me. This is how I'm supposed to be... in a land of make believe that don't believe in me. Green Day. The CD he was listening to the night before, the CD he fell asleep to. Or at least, he thought he did. He couldn't remember that well. Come to think of it... what time did he even go to sleep last night?
His laptop was open beside him, though the screen was blank. The charger was sitting on the ground, so that may be the reason. It ran out of battery. Max blinked, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't want to get up. He was tempted to go back to sleep, or at least try to, or even just lay there for a few more hours. It felt nice. But, no. He couldn't do that. Lazy as he was, he knew he couldn't just lay in bed all day.
Slowly, Max rose to his feet, scratching the back of his head. His hair was basically a big mess, as was the rest of him. He never looked very attractive in the morning, with no makeup on and nothing done with his hair. Max would be the first one to tell you that. He shook his head and yawned, looking around the room as the music continued to play. Max didn't feel like turning it off. He rather liked it, actually.
He looked up toward the bathroom, deciding it was his best bet to get a shower and put some kind of nice looking clothing on, which would probably consist of black, black, and more black. Maybe a band T-shirt thrown in and some chains and wristbands. That's basically what Max's attire was made up of. It was simple, and kind of gothic, but he liked it all the same.
He closed the door to the bathroom and turned the shower on, undressing quickly and getting in. Max normally took longer showers than most men, since he actually cared about being clean. He could still hear the CD playing in the other room. The people in the halls could probably hear it, too. It would probably tick some people off, but Max didn't really care. He liked his music, and he would play it however loudly he wanted.
He got out of the shower listening to the fourth part of the song Jesus of Suburbia, which was called 'Dearly Beloved.' Dearly beloved, are you listening? I can't remember a word that you were saying. Are we demented or am I disturbed? The space that's in between insane and insecure. Oh therapy, can you please fill the void? Am I retarded or am I just overjoyed?Nobody's perfect and I stand accused. For lack of a better word, and that's my best excuse. Always one of Max's favorite parts on the song. He wrapped a towel around his face and walked out to his closet, pulling down random clothes from the hangers, which was a pair of black jeans and a 'Motley Crue' T-shirt. Nothing special today, but Max would probably dress it up with jewelry and such. He always did.
He got dressed as quickly as he undressed. However, he left his shirt off. He didn't like to put it on right away; he didn't want his hair to get the back of it wet. It was uncomfortable. He shook his head violently, like a dog, to shake any excess water from it. He would probably blow dry it in a minute, once he finished applying the little makeup he wore. He looked down at his fingernails, noticing the chipped, black polish over them. He should probably redo them soon.. they were starting to look like crap. He looked at himself in the mirror, shaking his head. He never liked what he saw. He inserted his ring through the hole in the right side of his lip and put on a thick, black eyeliner around his eyes. That was always one of the main reasons people thought Max weird, or so he assumed... because he wore makeup. Oh, well. Screw them. Max liked eyeliner. It wasn't that big of a deal.
He put on socks and shoes (both back, for the record), though he doubted he would be going anywhere. He didn't normally go out places this early in the afternoon. There were a bunch of people eating lunch and walking and talking and being loud and obnoxious and rude. Max didn't want to be bothered with it. Sometimes he would go out when his sister wanted him to, though.
Max walked into the bathroom once more to blow dry his hair. Now, that was another strange thing. He enjoyed doing his hair and making it look nice. Most other guys would barely put a brush through it. Max liked his hair, the length, the black color. He took good care of it and took a good amount of time making it look at least decent for the day.
While he was doing this, a tall woman, around the same age as Max, opened the door to the room and slid in, leaving the door open a bit. She was skinny, maybe even a little too skinny. A smirk was over her face as a strand of her short, bright red hair fell over her face. Over her chest was a cream white shirt that matched her skin tone, with flowing, lacy sleeves and was cropped just above her stomach and below her breasts, revealing her smooth, thin stomach and back. Her belly-button was pierced with a red ring. Over her legs were a pair of extremely tattered black fish-net stockings, along with one red and white stripped sock running up her right leg to her thigh. Her skirt was black and very short and revealing. It barely reached halfway down her thigh. It was longer and more flouncy in the back, however. Over her feet were tall, black leather boots. Around her neck, what looked like a black dog collar, and around her wrist, a black bracelet with spikes sticking out of it. There was quite a lot of makeup over her face, including red lipstick, blush, and a lot of red and black eye makeup. The thing that stood out, however, was the red heart that was outlined in black underneath her right eye. She drew it often, though the eye it was under normally alternated. It was somewhat of her trademark.
Just a little strange...
But that was exactly what Emilie Autumn was. Strange. She always had been. She lived a strange life, alone most of her life, with the exception of April. Emilie met April when they were both around eleven, and were inseparable. Except for the times when Emilie was forced to be put into child care facilities and orphanages. But, Emilie normally got away from them and the two found their way back to each other. She met Max through April, and befriended him, as well. The three spent a lot of time together, until April died. Max and Emilie had sort of drifted since then, but Emilie wanted to change that. Emilie would certainly change that.
She probably wasn't supposed to be here, nor have a key into Max's dorm room without him knowing. But she didn't really care much. Emilie was most definitely a dare devil, or at least acted like one. The events in her life made her pretty bold and strong. Very rarely did Emilie like to show weakness to anyone other than her very true friends, who were not many. She was headstrong and stubborn on the outside, though on the inside, she might as well be dead.
She scampered over to the stereo, flipping through the songs to one she liked. As she heard the hair dryer go off in the other room, she jumped, her eyes going wide with surprise. She hurried over to the bed, jumping on it and laying on her stomach cutely, waiting for Max to come out.
Max was, for the most part, oblivious to Emilie's breaking and entering. Either that, or he just didn't care. But it was probably the first one, because if he suspected someone was coming into his room he probably would've chased them out, whether it was Emilie or not. He ran a brush through his hair, half of it falling over his right eye, and walked out. He jumped back almost immediately at the sight of Emilie, his eyes going wide as he let out a faint gasp of surprise.
What the heck was she doing here? He stood there, in shock, as she smiled at him, singing along with the chorus of the song. "Nobody likes you... Everyone left you... They're all out without you... Having fun." She sang, a teasing tone to her voice. It normally took that tone while she was talking to people. Emilie was quite the tease, both sexually and humorously. She held her hand under her chin, giggling softly as she watched Max.
Before Max could speak, Emilie jumped off the bed and ran toward Max, throwing her arms around his neck tightly. "Oh, Maxy, I missed you!" She said in a cute, girlish and rather childish voice. Max smiled faintly. He missed Emilie, as well. She was always a good friend to him... well, for the most part. He wrapped his arm around her waist, taking notice of how small she was. Max sighed, but made no comment on it. "I missed you too, Emmie. It's good to see you again." He said warmly, hugging her a little tighter. 'Emmie' was a nickname Max had come up with for her when they first met. It didn't mean anything particular; just something he attached her with.
Finally, both let go of each other. Emilie smirked and narrowed her eyes playfully. She ran her fingers through his soft, black hair. ".. I missed you so... So much..." She whispered in a rather seductive manner, running her palm down Max's body. She bared her teeth, growing He shook his head, laughing softly at this. He pushed her hand away and walked toward his bed where his shirt was laying. "Very funny." He said humorously.
Emilie was always a little on the... #$%^^$ side. She was sexual and vulgar and vain, yet insecure and decaying on the inside. Her smirk grew a little wider as she walked toward the mirror, admiring herself in it. A silence fell between the two before Emilie broke it with a dreamy sigh. "Thank God I'm pretty..." Max laughed again at this statement. Well, he should've expected something like that from Emmie. She was a little self-centered sometimes, even a little cruel when it came to looks. But she didn't usually mean any harm by it; the same went with her smooth, sexy attitude. She never meant anything by it.
Max suddenly noticed the door was half-open. Well, that was great. Anyone who wanted by would probably think Emmie was some kind of hooker. But she wasn't... she just had a knack for dressing like one. And.. acting like one. He sighed, taking a step forward to shut it, but Emilie stepped in front of him, her body dangerously close to his. She stepped forward, making Max step back. "So.. What have you been up to?" She asked, raising her eyebrows as she took another step, causing Max to fall backward into the bed. Emilie sat on his lap, pushing him backward as she climbed onto his stomach, sitting there with her legs on either side of his waist. Well, that was a lovely position for them to be sitting in. Emilie ran her palms across Max's chest as she had done before. Max narrowed his eyes and smirked. "You're sick." He said teasingly. Emilie laughed whole-heartedly, a cackling kind of a laugh that a witch would have. "I know." She said cheerfully.
"Seriously.. What have you been doing the past few years? I barely got to see you at all." Emilie said with a pout, her voice actually sounding quite serious. She wasn't that of a sex maniac that she didn't care about her friends. Max shrugged. "Putting my life back together." He answered, his voice sounding a bit sorrowful and dull. He sighed, looking away. Emilie frowned. Not the answer she was hoping for. She sighed as well. "Yeah, well... join the club." She said softly, her eyes never leaving him.
A silence fell between the two as they reminisced about April, what an amazing person she was. It broke suddenly, however, as Max sat up slowly at the sound of the door creak. Emilie turned around as well, but didn't move from where she was sitting on Max's lap. Well, this probably looked great: Max with no shirt on and and Emilie on top of him with barely any clothes on at all. This would be a swell confrontation.
Maxwell Green was suddenly jolted awake by the loud music bursting through the speakers of his stereo. Luckily for him, it worked as an alarm clock, or else he probably would've never woken up. Or maybe that wasn't such a 'lucky' thing. But, it was Saturday, so whether he got out of bed at eleven in the morning or six at night, it didn't really make much difference.
Very little light shown through the windows, though it was quite a beautiful day outside. Sun shining, birds chirping, teenagers running amok down below on the ground floor. But, Max's black curtains kept out most of the light. He liked it that way... it let him sleep longer and easier. He was a very light sleeper, which was probably why he didn't get much sleep. Max would wake up at the smallest noise or the tiniest bit of light, and would not be able to get back to sleep. So, he made sure everything was dark. Plus, he liked the night better than the day. It was quieter and there weren't as many people around... well, then again, that might depend on where you are.
He sighed, laying there in bed listening to the music, pounding from the speakers to his head. On a steady diet of soda pop and Ritalin... no one ever died for my sins in hell, as far as I can tell; at least the ones I got away with. And there's nothing wrong with me. This is how I'm supposed to be... in a land of make believe that don't believe in me. Green Day. The CD he was listening to the night before, the CD he fell asleep to. Or at least, he thought he did. He couldn't remember that well. Come to think of it... what time did he even go to sleep last night?
His laptop was open beside him, though the screen was blank. The charger was sitting on the ground, so that may be the reason. It ran out of battery. Max blinked, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't want to get up. He was tempted to go back to sleep, or at least try to, or even just lay there for a few more hours. It felt nice. But, no. He couldn't do that. Lazy as he was, he knew he couldn't just lay in bed all day.
Slowly, Max rose to his feet, scratching the back of his head. His hair was basically a big mess, as was the rest of him. He never looked very attractive in the morning, with no makeup on and nothing done with his hair. Max would be the first one to tell you that. He shook his head and yawned, looking around the room as the music continued to play. Max didn't feel like turning it off. He rather liked it, actually.
He looked up toward the bathroom, deciding it was his best bet to get a shower and put some kind of nice looking clothing on, which would probably consist of black, black, and more black. Maybe a band T-shirt thrown in and some chains and wristbands. That's basically what Max's attire was made up of. It was simple, and kind of gothic, but he liked it all the same.
He closed the door to the bathroom and turned the shower on, undressing quickly and getting in. Max normally took longer showers than most men, since he actually cared about being clean. He could still hear the CD playing in the other room. The people in the halls could probably hear it, too. It would probably tick some people off, but Max didn't really care. He liked his music, and he would play it however loudly he wanted.
He got out of the shower listening to the fourth part of the song Jesus of Suburbia, which was called 'Dearly Beloved.' Dearly beloved, are you listening? I can't remember a word that you were saying. Are we demented or am I disturbed? The space that's in between insane and insecure. Oh therapy, can you please fill the void? Am I retarded or am I just overjoyed?Nobody's perfect and I stand accused. For lack of a better word, and that's my best excuse. Always one of Max's favorite parts on the song. He wrapped a towel around his face and walked out to his closet, pulling down random clothes from the hangers, which was a pair of black jeans and a 'Motley Crue' T-shirt. Nothing special today, but Max would probably dress it up with jewelry and such. He always did.
He got dressed as quickly as he undressed. However, he left his shirt off. He didn't like to put it on right away; he didn't want his hair to get the back of it wet. It was uncomfortable. He shook his head violently, like a dog, to shake any excess water from it. He would probably blow dry it in a minute, once he finished applying the little makeup he wore. He looked down at his fingernails, noticing the chipped, black polish over them. He should probably redo them soon.. they were starting to look like crap. He looked at himself in the mirror, shaking his head. He never liked what he saw. He inserted his ring through the hole in the right side of his lip and put on a thick, black eyeliner around his eyes. That was always one of the main reasons people thought Max weird, or so he assumed... because he wore makeup. Oh, well. Screw them. Max liked eyeliner. It wasn't that big of a deal.
He put on socks and shoes (both back, for the record), though he doubted he would be going anywhere. He didn't normally go out places this early in the afternoon. There were a bunch of people eating lunch and walking and talking and being loud and obnoxious and rude. Max didn't want to be bothered with it. Sometimes he would go out when his sister wanted him to, though.
Max walked into the bathroom once more to blow dry his hair. Now, that was another strange thing. He enjoyed doing his hair and making it look nice. Most other guys would barely put a brush through it. Max liked his hair, the length, the black color. He took good care of it and took a good amount of time making it look at least decent for the day.
While he was doing this, a tall woman, around the same age as Max, opened the door to the room and slid in, leaving the door open a bit. She was skinny, maybe even a little too skinny. A smirk was over her face as a strand of her short, bright red hair fell over her face. Over her chest was a cream white shirt that matched her skin tone, with flowing, lacy sleeves and was cropped just above her stomach and below her breasts, revealing her smooth, thin stomach and back. Her belly-button was pierced with a red ring. Over her legs were a pair of extremely tattered black fish-net stockings, along with one red and white stripped sock running up her right leg to her thigh. Her skirt was black and very short and revealing. It barely reached halfway down her thigh. It was longer and more flouncy in the back, however. Over her feet were tall, black leather boots. Around her neck, what looked like a black dog collar, and around her wrist, a black bracelet with spikes sticking out of it. There was quite a lot of makeup over her face, including red lipstick, blush, and a lot of red and black eye makeup. The thing that stood out, however, was the red heart that was outlined in black underneath her right eye. She drew it often, though the eye it was under normally alternated. It was somewhat of her trademark.
Just a little strange...
But that was exactly what Emilie Autumn was. Strange. She always had been. She lived a strange life, alone most of her life, with the exception of April. Emilie met April when they were both around eleven, and were inseparable. Except for the times when Emilie was forced to be put into child care facilities and orphanages. But, Emilie normally got away from them and the two found their way back to each other. She met Max through April, and befriended him, as well. The three spent a lot of time together, until April died. Max and Emilie had sort of drifted since then, but Emilie wanted to change that. Emilie would certainly change that.
She probably wasn't supposed to be here, nor have a key into Max's dorm room without him knowing. But she didn't really care much. Emilie was most definitely a dare devil, or at least acted like one. The events in her life made her pretty bold and strong. Very rarely did Emilie like to show weakness to anyone other than her very true friends, who were not many. She was headstrong and stubborn on the outside, though on the inside, she might as well be dead.
She scampered over to the stereo, flipping through the songs to one she liked. As she heard the hair dryer go off in the other room, she jumped, her eyes going wide with surprise. She hurried over to the bed, jumping on it and laying on her stomach cutely, waiting for Max to come out.
Max was, for the most part, oblivious to Emilie's breaking and entering. Either that, or he just didn't care. But it was probably the first one, because if he suspected someone was coming into his room he probably would've chased them out, whether it was Emilie or not. He ran a brush through his hair, half of it falling over his right eye, and walked out. He jumped back almost immediately at the sight of Emilie, his eyes going wide as he let out a faint gasp of surprise.
What the heck was she doing here? He stood there, in shock, as she smiled at him, singing along with the chorus of the song. "Nobody likes you... Everyone left you... They're all out without you... Having fun." She sang, a teasing tone to her voice. It normally took that tone while she was talking to people. Emilie was quite the tease, both sexually and humorously. She held her hand under her chin, giggling softly as she watched Max.
Before Max could speak, Emilie jumped off the bed and ran toward Max, throwing her arms around his neck tightly. "Oh, Maxy, I missed you!" She said in a cute, girlish and rather childish voice. Max smiled faintly. He missed Emilie, as well. She was always a good friend to him... well, for the most part. He wrapped his arm around her waist, taking notice of how small she was. Max sighed, but made no comment on it. "I missed you too, Emmie. It's good to see you again." He said warmly, hugging her a little tighter. 'Emmie' was a nickname Max had come up with for her when they first met. It didn't mean anything particular; just something he attached her with.
Finally, both let go of each other. Emilie smirked and narrowed her eyes playfully. She ran her fingers through his soft, black hair. ".. I missed you so... So much..." She whispered in a rather seductive manner, running her palm down Max's body. She bared her teeth, growing He shook his head, laughing softly at this. He pushed her hand away and walked toward his bed where his shirt was laying. "Very funny." He said humorously.
Emilie was always a little on the... #$%^^$ side. She was sexual and vulgar and vain, yet insecure and decaying on the inside. Her smirk grew a little wider as she walked toward the mirror, admiring herself in it. A silence fell between the two before Emilie broke it with a dreamy sigh. "Thank God I'm pretty..." Max laughed again at this statement. Well, he should've expected something like that from Emmie. She was a little self-centered sometimes, even a little cruel when it came to looks. But she didn't usually mean any harm by it; the same went with her smooth, sexy attitude. She never meant anything by it.
Max suddenly noticed the door was half-open. Well, that was great. Anyone who wanted by would probably think Emmie was some kind of hooker. But she wasn't... she just had a knack for dressing like one. And.. acting like one. He sighed, taking a step forward to shut it, but Emilie stepped in front of him, her body dangerously close to his. She stepped forward, making Max step back. "So.. What have you been up to?" She asked, raising her eyebrows as she took another step, causing Max to fall backward into the bed. Emilie sat on his lap, pushing him backward as she climbed onto his stomach, sitting there with her legs on either side of his waist. Well, that was a lovely position for them to be sitting in. Emilie ran her palms across Max's chest as she had done before. Max narrowed his eyes and smirked. "You're sick." He said teasingly. Emilie laughed whole-heartedly, a cackling kind of a laugh that a witch would have. "I know." She said cheerfully.
"Seriously.. What have you been doing the past few years? I barely got to see you at all." Emilie said with a pout, her voice actually sounding quite serious. She wasn't that of a sex maniac that she didn't care about her friends. Max shrugged. "Putting my life back together." He answered, his voice sounding a bit sorrowful and dull. He sighed, looking away. Emilie frowned. Not the answer she was hoping for. She sighed as well. "Yeah, well... join the club." She said softly, her eyes never leaving him.
A silence fell between the two as they reminisced about April, what an amazing person she was. It broke suddenly, however, as Max sat up slowly at the sound of the door creak. Emilie turned around as well, but didn't move from where she was sitting on Max's lap. Well, this probably looked great: Max with no shirt on and and Emilie on top of him with barely any clothes on at all. This would be a swell confrontation.