babylon, the one I'm wasted on

Damien's front was a weak one. Perhaps it was the lack of a father figure in his earlier years, and even now. Or, perhaps it was because Marissa Knight only taught her son with words and stories. It was all he ever knew. He had no experience, no exposure -- just ideas and stories and ... air. It was as if what he knew carried him, or made him think he could carry himself, so far as to arrive at the edge of a black river. And at that, he had no means to get across. He could see people who have crossed it, or who looked like they had a certain way of getting there and was already making their way across that ominous river, to the other side where dark adventures were promised. He could merely stay on his side, the amateur side, and narrate what little he could see of the other, to young and aspiring children around him. That thought would have made Damien, who hated children, sneer. He would probably thought about asking the kids to form a bridge, to step on them to get across to the other side. But of course, if the opportunity presented itself, it might never happen. He was a mere thinker, never a do-er, it never happened before.

Perhaps it was this very trait of his that made Damien who he was, especially now, here, with Roxi. There was no one around, and probably no one bound to know of his relations with the Gryffindor girl. Still, he was a ball of hesitation and a lack of initiative. If there was some Kendall in him, perhaps Damien would already be pinning the girl against the wall. After all, did Roxi not mention some kind of encounter with the other boy back when they were at the Shrieking Shack? Damien did not question the boy about it. It was not something you simply went up to ask someone without having a thousand other questions back at oneself. Besides, why did he have to ask? Kendall had a reputation, and Damien clearly knew about it. He envied Kendall. Kendall was a do-er. He did things. At least, it was the idea that Damien got of him. Did he have what it took in himself to try? If there was going to be, Damien thought, the opportunity should be grasped right now, no matter how unlike himself it was going to be.

Still, Damien eyed Roxi, and made no move. With the sketchbook in one hand, and a pencil in the other, he watched as the girl went from almost eye-level to way below his. Perhaps it was really a good idea to sit, after all. Damien was starting to get tired of standing up, what with the pressure his feet were asserting against the ground because of the discomfort he was allowing himself to feel. He let himself down slowly, sitting just in front of the girl, taking a bold move to sit himself not more than a couple of inches away from her. He was going to try to challenge himself with this, then. At Roxi's question, Damien frowned, but maintain his stare at her. Was she trying to get him to be vulnerable? He sure felt it, but he was not going to spill it, not to anyone but his mother. Even with his mother, he had reservations. Damien chuckled, thinking about her audacity to want him to open up to her like that.

"What is this, Roxi ... Aunt Agony?" Damien shrugged, before he let his pencil touch the clean parchment of the sketchbook. "What about you, Weasley. Who are you?" He smirked, throwing her question back at her, although it was not fair to say that he was not interested in her answer. To hide his interest, although weakly, Damien began to start the sketch of the girl, beginning with the shape of her face. He alternated his eyes between capturing his vision of her, and putting that capture down onto the parchment. His head, however, remained static, as if he wanted to prove how firm it was in its position, not that anyone would notice.

Roxi settled on the ground and set about the difficult task of making herself comfortable. She shifted this way and that, testing the ground beneath her thighs, before sloely rolling her head, feeling small pops in her neck as her head rolled from one side to the other. She clenched her fists, pulling the fingers inward, before reaching her shoulders to each other. She felt relief in all these areas.

She let her hand travel up to her shoulder, tugging at the bottom of her hair as though she actually wanted to hurt herself and Damien slid down next to her. He was watching her and she looked away after a moment, not wanting him to peer to far into her face, to figure out just how off of her game she actually was. She liked to be known as the brainless sex machine party girl... It made things so much easier. That was all ruined if she was suddenly human.

Roxi became aware of the fact that she was rubbing her head absentmindedly as though she had a huge, throbbing head ache. Damien was intrigued by her for some reason, which in turn intrigued Roxi. He sure seemed curious about someone he pretended did not exist most of the time. She listened to him sidestep the question and then turn it around on her. She blinked and shrugged, looking away. She sighed, and as she expelled her breath said, "I don't really know yet."

Damien felt a little cheated. He had thought that Roxi wanted to get to him, whether it was to annoy him or for other reasons according to her amusement, he did not know. All he knew was that he had believed that Roxi was the one who wanted to get to him. Even when she appeared tonight at the Astronomy Tower, so coincidentally at a time that he was there, there was a little something that mulled on the fact that she had somehow gotten wind of his location, and located him so. That little part of him that cheered was left hanging, as if being handed a potentially delicious bag of chips, only to find that it was just an empty bag that was sealed, without its contents.

He was very discontented. He had relied on responding, on answering to the call of Roxi. How could he, then respond now, when she seemed to wait for his? It was then that Damien was alerted to how boring his life was. At least, it seemed, his personalty was wanting of something to be even worth turning into a story for. He had no childhood with stories to share, only that of his time tagging along with his mother, watching, always watching, her going about her adult affairs. Even now, all he ever did was read, and thought, and watched, and read, and thought, and watched. And sketch, when he wanted to break the monotony of those actions. There was nothing seemingly admirable, or even, lovable.

"It's no wonder you're suck a wreck, if you don't know who you are." Damien blurted the sentence out, as soon as Roxi gave her reply. As soon as it was out, he paused, and stopped himself. The statement resonated in the air, staring at him accusingly. It was a mirror, and although mirrors were meant to be objective, the person who looks never gets the message objectively. In this, Damien felt like the sting of his reply stung the both of them. After all, he had shot the question back at Roxi only because he did not know how to give it an answer either. Damien realised the similarity, and turned his eyes to meet Roxi's, not knowing if he should be apologetic about his comment, especially when he noticed the difference in the spirit of her eyes.

"How was summer?" He attempted to side-step the sensitivity of his earlier reaction, hoping to not have to feel like apologising, and yet, grappling with the fact that he should not apologise. "Did your fellow Dorkies gain anything from that stupid booth?"

Roxi did not really know how she had expected Damien to react to her statement, but. honestly, she had not expected him to react so rudely. What person their age could honestly say that they knew who they were already. They were all still exploring their personalities, on the road to self discovery. How could anyone claim any different than at least a minor identity crisis.

But Damien... so aggressively called her out. Her neck turned to bring her chocolate eyes to his dark, unforgiving ones. She stared at him, a stunned, hurt look on her face. her eyebrows turned upwards in confusion and she closed her eyes, shaking her head and setting her jaw painfully. Wow. Wooow. She looked forward, blinking heavily.

For whatever, his reaction hollowed her out, stunf her entire being, filled her with this cold, biting numbness that she never thought Damien D'eath, of all people, could inspire in her. It was a terrible feeling but the funny thing was- it was a feeling. She had felt blank until she had had her run in with him. Her mind was fuzzy and she heard him talking and she felt something rise within her...

And with it, she rose as well, rounding on him. She turned and glared down at him, her face aflame with passion as she said, "You know what- there is no reason I need to sit under your scrutiny. There is nothing that says you are better than me and have any right to judge me. I'm sorry I interrupted you but I'm even sorrier I thought you'd act any differently than all of the other ignorant Slytherins." She shook her around. "I guess being a clone is the 'in' thing nowadays. See you around." She turned to leave.

Damien would not bet on Roxi leaving his presence. Perhaps he had taken it for granted. He had hurled insults and snides at her ever since Merlin-knows-when, but she had never withdraw herself from him. On the train, in their first year going to Hogwarts, she was already getting on his nerves. He remember wanting nothing more than to get out of her presence. She was, in her fifth year, still getting on his nerves. But when she made to leave, he felt something heavy in him drop to his feet. Immediately, as if on reflex, Damien jumped up and made a grab for Roxi's arm, almost as if it was imploring her to stay. He would have expected to be happy at finally touching a raw nerve of hers, and then making her piss off and leave his sight. But no, apparently, his body or some part of him that he had denied, had other plans. Once again, Damien felt that fragmentation in himself that he felt like he had to consistently deal with. He was very uncertain about himself, and even about what he wanted. Sure, he knew he wanted power and control. But they were too big and general concepts for him to even comprehend, let alone possess.

Damien frowned, extremely hard at it, and jerked the hand that was holding Roxi's lower arm a little, as if it was uncontrollably jerking her towards him. He contemplated what the girl had just thrown back at him, in her anger, and how she had conveniently ignored his question, of which was to further aggravate her, not that it was needed already. The urge, the strong impulse in Damien to pull Roxi towards himself, scared him. The intensity of the need was baffling. He was a boy who talked, and who had weak actions. The sudden urge for such an empowering action scared him. Suddenly, Damien realised how hard he was gripping Roxi's arm, and decided to loosen it, afraid that he had hurt her. He had words that came close to wanting to beg her to not leave, but he could not bear to allow them to come out gushing through the floodgates of his mouth, the ones that he had jammed up so tight to prevent himself from giving them away.

"It's all your fault!" He exclaimed suddenly, as if it was the best he could offer, though without explanation. He glared at Roxi, but did not let go of his hold of her. He did not want to her walk away. "All, your, fault." Damien repeated again, pushing the blame inch by inch closer towards the girl with each word. Although he really did not know why he was doing it. Perhaps he just wanted to mask it. The muscles in his body were fighting each other, wondering why they got no release, why they never got any release. What was wrong with their owner? Why did he not, for once, attempt a simpler way of behaving?

Roxi may have been flighty and careless, but she had the Weasley stubborness that worked for, or perhaps it was against, her. When she made her mind up about doing something, she stuck to it and her mind focused on it. Someone had called her one-minded, said that her mind worked on one track. As insulting as that was, it was sort of true- when something angered or upset her, there was little derailing her from that.

So she had not expected resistance, and she had not thought Damien even wanted anything to do with her. He grabbed her arm and her shoulder pulled unpleasantly as she continued forward. She whipped around, her hair whipping around her face, her eyes blazing. She jerked her arm, but he held tight, too tight, painfully tight, and her expression contracted in pain.

"Let go!" she demanded, pulling her arm again, her shoulders leaning back but he jerked her towards him and she tumbled against him. She leaned back and looked up at him, confused, hurt, and overall angry. And suddenly he was yelling at her. She felt her confused hurt stare turn into an aggravated one, full of frustrated confusion. She reached her other hand up and shoved his chest, pushing him towards the wall, rising on her tiptoes to shout into his face.

"I never did anything to you! I never, ever did anything to you! I never told anyone that we used to 'hang out' or whatever, because of Georgie. I never called you out or treated you like sh!t because you are a Slytherin! I have always treated you very well, and I realize a lot better than I should have treated you! And- and- and.... That sucks! Okay?!"

There was a lot that Damien had in him, desperate for expression, that had their meaning lost simply because the context that they had to be mapped on was never allowed to manifest completely. What Damien acted out was, for the most part, only half of what he really meant. He could have prided himself on his language abilities, what with reading from an early age, and being a talented reader and all. What good did it do? He was still rendered to an incoherent mess, having his expressions fragmented because his pride held back too much.

It was all Roxi's fault, really. That he maintained in himself. Of course it was her fault. Her fault for bringing herself into his life, her fault for throwing herself right into his path, her fault for that evening, her fault for making herself unforgettable, her fault for being a Gryffindor, her fault for weighing on his mind. It was her fault, for being her. What Damien did not admit was how it was her fault for twisting his feelings for her, from that of repulsion to attraction. It would have been an obvious diagnosis if he allowed greater self-expression. As it is, only the book contained a clue of it. And even so, he had marred it to hide it, after the expression manifested in the drawing of her face.

Damien had never really used force through his hands. Yet, he had just used it on Roxi. It was out of the ordinary, which made him even more annoyed that she could make him do that. Of course, again, he was pushing the blame and piling it on the girl. He had chosen to use his hands. But Damien would argue that she had triggered him to. It would be a never-ending cycle of debate. Whatever it was, he did not like go. When she fell towards him, he had the incredible urge to ... kiss her. Only then did he drop her hand, as if afraid of what he might do, afraid of himself. And so Damien had yelled at Roxi, acting out against what he felt to be a sudden loss of control, again.

Soon enough, he found himself backed hard against the wall, at Roxi's shove. The cold impact of the shove against the wall made him glare extremely hard at the girl, who matched the intensity of his stare with her own. She looked fiery now, with her anger, with her hair. Damien glared and watched her. She went on a tirade that irritated him. "So I'm indebted to you for treating me really well, aren't I?" He retorted back sarcastically, a sneer on his face. "Georgie has bad taste in friends, and you're the worst of the lot. She may like you a lot, but I won't be fooled!" How contradictory was everything that Damien was saying now. He was not a fool. He realised it, how he had become the smitten one, not that best friend of his. It was precisely because he was painfully aware of himself and the situation, that continued to fuel the anger.

"You're a waste. When I with you I'm wasted-" Now that was an odd choice of word. He blinked a little, then continued. "-I mean, I waste myself with you. My time, my energy ..." and my heart. Clearly, something inside of him was working against, constantly being quick to remind him of what he so wanted to suppress. Damien hated it. He continued to glare at Roxi, fuming at the sight of her, wondering why everything made him so mad, yet knowing the answer, but still not understanding the intensity of the madness.

He still seemed so disgusted by her, and it bothered Roxi. What made her so disgusting. She could feel her eyes stinging. She knew her sins, she knew her crimes, she knew what made her digusting, but Damien had no clue. He had no reason to think her disgusting, and yet, underneath his cold gaze, she was scum, she was nothing.

Then why did he keep her there?

That was what bothered her the most. Here, she had not pressed herself into his presence, he had kept her there, and he continued to look at her as though her very existence was a burden to him. Yeah, well, her existence was starting to become a burden on herself, too, so she would greatly appreciate if he would stop drawing out the effect so painfully for everyone and just let her be...

She shook her head, "No, but it means you don't get to be a little b!tch and treat me like crap all of the time, that's what it means." He continued on and she rode over him, "Bull, I actually care about Gerogie. I am a lot of things" and she thought the names to herself- whore, slut, idiot, bimbo, airhead, moron, skank, druggie- "But I am a good friend."

She stared up at him, pursing her lips so tight together that they would not be able to quiver and curl and show just how tough she really was. She used the freedom of her arms to cross them protectively over herself, but he continued on. Before her sadness could take over, and tears would fall, she let her anger reign, and let her words fall.

She usually blabbered when she had nothing to say. But when she had something to say, she needed few words. She stepped closer, invading his private space, drawing near to him, her eyes locked on his in a challenge, shining with anger and tears. In a low, quavering voice, she offered him a challenge to prove that his words were true.

"Then. Leave."

If Marissa Knight knew what her son was up to, she would have laughed it off and told him to watch his anger, dismissing it as childish tantrums. She was accustomed to those tantrums. He was her only child, and he was used to throwing that weight around. She, in loving him, did little to correct him. Although, what with the way he turned out to be like an an older age, Marissa did regret not being a little more firm with him. Perhaps if she had been more firm, he would have been less of a pissy child, even at an older age. But now, character cannot be undone. It seemed pretty fixed now. Besides, with the majority of his time spent at Hogwarts, either Hogwarts or Damien had the greater say in his behaviours. As much as a parent might want to trust the school to have a say in their child's life, reality never abided that way. Damien was then left in the same skin that he was standing in ever since he was his mother's baby, not that he ever stopped being a baby.

Damien rolled his eyes performatively when Roxi claimed to be a good friend. Of course, he had dished out judgement without consulting the truth. But, then, he was not interested in being reasonable. That act itself was his only answer to her. The boy continued to glare at Roxi, watching as she stepped closer in what he thought to look like an intention to challenge him. He wondered about it. He did not want to lose whatever challenge she was presenting him with. That would not do. She had stepped a little too close. But unlike the usual times when she did so, this time, it was not meant to be seductive. Why, then, did he feel ... Damien blinked a little, trying to focus. His head felt light, as if it was ready to spin along with the scent of her hair that the air carried across to his nose. She was close enough.

But suddenly, she spoke. This time, it was not a torrent of sentences. Two words, simple and flat. Yet, it was the challenge that he had been waiting for her to dish out. But no. What? "I'm not leaving just because you tell me to. Life isn't as simple as that, isn't it?" He smirked, not knowing what he was smirking at, or for. Damien inhaled, only to take in more and more of Roxi's scent. He frowned, and stared into her eyes. And then he pushed his upper body forward, slowly, as if that few inches between Roxi and him was a few feet instead. Only when his face was almost touching the girl's. Or rather, only when Damien's nose was almost touching Roxi's, he stopped. And he held it there. That was his challenge, or an answer to her challenge. He was going to meet her, not leave. From the corner of his eye, he could see the almost invisible hairs on the skin of Roxi's cheeks. That was how close he was to her.

And then, his nose touched hers. Damien looked at Roxi, now losing a bit of his anger. As if when the words were lost, so was the angst. The slight of touch of his nose to hers made him hold his breath, not because he did not want to exhale against Roxi's face, but because he wanted to keep it there. And not leave. Suddenly, it was if the point touching her was the only point that was lifting him up. All of his nerves and his muscles were watching that point, a little shocked that their representative made it that far, and so at a loss of what to do next.

He smirked at her, drawing closer, laughing at her earnesty and mocking her. Something inside her was breaking, and she squeezed the lie on her finger, because even though she was pretending to try and stop people from hurting her by challenging Damien, by 'defending' herself with words, but she was not defending herself in that she was taking his words to heart, letting them affect her even though she should not, because Damien should have had no effect on her happiness...

She felt her jaw quivering, her chin dimpling as she sucked in her bottom lip to try and keep herself from breaking down, from ,etting out any noise that voiced her distress. Why was it that all she seemed to do was offer herself on a slab for everyone to poke and prod and play with like a little doll. Why was it she couldn't just go about her business, as herself, no strings attatched? But everyone had their conditions. I'll be your friend, if I can put you down. I'll treat you well, if you have sex with me. I'll pay attention to you, but you're going to regret ever opening your mouth...

She closed her eyes and turned her head, salty tears stinging the back of her eyelids, her hands shaking terribly as she tried to force them into her pockets, but she gave up, bringing them back to her stomach, crossing them over it. She turned and opened her eyes at a touch, seeing Damien so close. His proximity did not faze her, but the look in his eyes continued to kill her. She shook her head, her bottom lip trembling. In a broken voice she said, "Why do you hate me?"