the piano knows something i don't know.

[SAMMII KNOWELL]

  
EVERYTHING'S GONE MISSING ,
I'VE LOST MORE SONGS TO
FLOODS .

The whole first half of the day had passed away slowly. There hadn't been much to do, actually. Ezra and Dani were who-knew-where -- he hadn't bothered to call them. He figured they would probably appreciate some time to do whatever without him annoying them. Besides, it was kinda of nice to be alone sometimes. Yeah, even he appreciated to be left alone. Not to mention he had some stupid assignment do to for a class. He hadn't even gotten it done yet before he got bored of it. Working on the same project for hours straight was really annoying. And his attention span wasn't long enough to do that -- by the end of two hours he had started to make up excuses to himself to get away from working on it.

So finally he had decided that he should just plain out stop. He could work on it tomorrow -- and he had later today, too. That was if a friend (or Ezra) didn't stop by first. Okay. Well then, in that case he had tomorrow to finish it. That should be enough time. Besides, it wasn't due until Thursday. Hmm. But what if he got plans for tomorrow, too? Okay. Nevermind. He was going to get it done tomorrow. Or he'd push it back and never get it done. He really couldn't afford handing in another major assignment late. But enough of that stupid school stuff. Sammii hadn't come to the auditorium to stress out about when he was going to get his project done or worry about how he was going to procrastinate. No. He'd come to relax and get his mind away from the goddamn project.

The thin boy made his way slowly down the middle aisle that was cut into the rows upon rows of sets that had been set up. This place was huge -- it was a bit freaky being there all alone. He was just a loser, though. In his opinion, at least. The werewolf wasn't going to let the vastness of the auditorium bother him. That was just ridiculous. He would turn it into something fun and relaxing, like he'd meant to do.

He rested his hands on the front of the stage and lifted himself up, landing his feet up there and standing up straight again. With a faint smile on his face, he walked over to a piano that was usually always on the stage. It was a beautiful black grand piano. He didn't really know how to play -- but he'd been teaching himself lately on it. The boy plopped down on the bench that sat in front of it and lightly pressed one of the keys, the note ringing out around the auditorium, even though he hadn't pressed it too loudly. He figured it must sound louder simply because there were no other noises in here. That's why he always tried to play softly. He didn't really want anyone else wandering in and hearing him singing and playing piano. Especially because he probably sucked. It would be so embarrassing if someone heard him. Actually, he hadn't even told anyone that he was starting to learn the piano -- or that he'd been sneaking in here every so often to practice. He definitely didn't want Ezra to find out -- because he was teaching himself their song. And he figured it would be a perfect surprise for the other boy. Hopefully once he learned it well enough, he would get a chance to play it for the demon. That would be great. He hoped when he got to do that, that Ezra would like it -- that he would love it.

Again, Sammii pressed down on the piano's white and black keys, the music playing out softly. After a moment, when he got into it better, his voice began to play out with the song, still soft.

"When the moon fell in love with the --" he paused for a moment, pressing the wrong notes and sighed. Damnit. I can never get this. The black-haired boy started over again, beginning the singing again and getting past the point he'd previously messed up. When he got the tone right again, he started to sing. "When the moon found the sun... He looked like he was barely hanging on..." he sung out slowly, matching it up with the slow playing as he tried to concentrate on what he was doing.

! ¿ ? ! ¿ ? ! ¿ ? !

WORDS
742 !
TAGS
ezra !
OUTFIT
cliiiick.
NOTES
not too bad for a starting post (:
if someone else really wants to join,
then they can feel free.
but otherwise, is closed now.

[EZRA HART]

O U T F I T.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He hated Paris Hilton.

There were many things he hated in his life. He hated that he had to quite smoking. He hated a good percent of the student body. He hated the teachers and how they always seemed to think they were better than he was. He hated dogs, and how they kept him all night with their stupid barking and their constant need to have attention. He hated the color yellow, and how much it reminded him of his cousin Ukiah, whose life was astronomically better than his all the time. He hated sunflowers, and how they made him feel short, and he hated getting burns from the sand when he walked too slow on the beach. He hated the fact that everyone thought he was a small-town type of guy because he happened to have already lived in Germany before he was accepted into Winterthorne. He hated that he was shorter than Kasen, and he hated that Asher managed to get away while Parker turned him on.

But mostly, he hated Paris Hilton.

He'd spent all morning watching her stupid show--the one about her new "bff", or whatever--because Kjara had told him to. She said that it was stupid otherwise, but the music on it was phenomenal. So, he watched. He watched and tried to ignore all the disgusting things about upper-class girls, and tried to look for one good song somewhere in that whole fiasco of a show. Nothing. He'd wasted a good three and a half hours trying to make it up to Kjay because he hadn't been there for "significant parts of her life". Hell, he would've baked her a cake, or spent a day at her house to catch up--anything but this. It was like watching Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, and Amy Winehouse babysit blind children.

There was no end to the terror.

Finally, he'd managed to drag himself away from the tv and head down to his classes. Around the first five minutes of what he thought was supposed to be fifth period, he'd realized he'd read his watch wrong and that he'd missed all of his classes--again--and that it was now the late afternoon. He grunted, collected his items, and began his trek across the fields. He wasn't up to teleporting for something that he could easily cross; it took too much work, and he couldn't be bothered about losing an eyelash or something that insignificant now. Besides, he needed the exercise (well, not really, but it felt good to pretend that he accomplished something other than rotting his brain with spoiled divas).

He was walking through the green grass when he spotted the auditorium. Now that looks like a damn good place to get some anger out. He took a sharp left turn and entered the building, heading down the vast amount of stairs with his backpack bouncing up and down behind him as he went along. As he spotted the figure at the piano, he reached up and pulled the headphones off of his ears and set them around his neck. Almost immediately, he knew who was playing the piano--and, after a few seconds of eavesdropping, he recognized the song that was being attempted as well. A smirk drew at the corners of his lips and he slid his hands into his pockets as he ambled down the stairs. Well, well. He didn't know that Sam was trying to learn how to play the piano--more specifically, that song--and was a little curious as to how it was going.

But, of course, curiosity turned into the need to show off.

Quietly, he stepped onto the platform at the bottom of the seats--what they called the "stage", though it was nothing more than a raised platform so that the shorter teachers actually be seen--and crept up behind the werewolf boy. He resisted the urge to hum along with the other--no, that would give him away--and instead slowed to a stop. Before he knew it, he was right behind Sammii. Unable to fight the smirk on his face, he leaned down and slid his arms over Sam's shoulders and onto the piano's glistening keys. "But her eyes saved his life in the middle of summer," he finished softly, fingertips still pressed lightly against the keys as his dark eyes flickered to the pale skin next to his face.

[SAMMII KNOWELL]

  
EVERYTHING'S GONE MISSING ,
I'VE LOST MORE SONGS TO
FLOODS .

Finally, he had managed to get a nice rhythm going — it was actually starting to sound like the song it was supposed to sound like.

But it was no where near done, either. He would have so much more work to do on it before he got to play it for Ezra. There wasn't any possible way that he was going to let Ezra hear him playing it before he had it perfect. The demon didn't deserve anything but perfect. At least, that's what Sammii thought. And, therefore, the werewolf wasn't going to let himself play an imperfect song in front of Ezra. Not to mention it would be embarrassing if he screwed up — because there was always a possibility of Ezra teasing him about it. And not to mention he was always a bit of a perfectionist. Especially when it came to things he was going for someone else. He couldn't tell you how many times he had stayed up all night working on a simple birthday card for Dani — or planning aspects of Jay's next surprise party (which for some reason their group of friend's always seemed to do). And even then, he felt like he hadn't done good enough — no matter how many hugs or 'great job's or 'thank you's he got when the time came around to show what he had done.

He was too busy concentrating on hitting the right notes and keeping his singing matching with the melody, there was no way he would have noticed Ezra had walked in and was heading towards him. His slim, pale fingers continued to press down on the keys, and his soft voice continued to sing out the words of their song. He messed up once or twice in between the time that Ezra had taken to make it from the start of the auditorium to walking along the stage up to him. But he'd made it right back to where he'd gotten to before. "He looked..." He paused, biting down on his bottom lip and trying to remember, then took the song back up. "He looked like he was barely hanging on... Bu —"

Suddenly, he cut off, jumping at the feel of arms snaking over his shoulders and pressing the keys. The fear quickly turned to embarrassment in the matter of a second as he recognized the hands right next to his own; as he heard the voice that murmured right by his ear; as he peeked over and saw the murky blue eyes that were next to his now. A blush crossed his cheeks at the same moment that familiar feeling of embarrassment came to him.

So much for surprising you... he thought a bit sadly. There wasn't anything he could do now though, was there? Not unless he suddenly gained the power of altering time. Which didn't seem very likely. So, instead, he turned his head ever so slightly towards the demon, smiling now, and planted a soft kiss on the other boy's cheek. "Hi Ezra," he muttered, voice still portraying his embarrassment. "Erm... What are you doing here?" he asked, moving back slightly so he could see his boyfriend more clearly. The werewolf moved his hands so that they were holding onto Ezra's, and pulled him over a bit until he was sitting next to him on the bench. Then he proceeded to lean against the boy's arm. "Do you know how to play this?" he continued, looking up through his eyelashes towards the other's blues, "Its hard," he admitted.

! ¿ ? ! ¿ ? ! ¿ ? !

WORDS
588. blehh.
TAGS
ezra !
OUTFIT
cliiiick.
NOTES
socute. ;3;

[EZRA HART]

O U T F I T.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The demon smirked a little as he watched the other boy jump. It had always amused him how his presence affected other people. Some, like Jackson and Kjara, didn't bother to throw out much excitement because they spent too much time to him--and Kjara could smell him coming. Others, like Asher and Blair and--actually, a lot of people--sneered or glared at him until he passed on (whether with his life or with his walk). There were people like Trenton and Zachary, who only really stuck around for one reason, and then there were people like Parker, who decided when he wanted to flirt with Ezra depending on the weather, or something like that. But, he had to say, the best reactions were from people like Jay, Fletcher, Xio, and Sammii. The whole terror/frightened reaction. It seemed that whenever he popped out of nowhere, he gave them heart attacks that seemed to last for either thirty seconds (Jay's case) or a few months (Xio's).

Aside from Xio's reaction, which nearly sent him into a giggle fit every time he saw her, Sam's was the best. Sometimes he would just be a little scared--like now; he supposed it was because the younger boy had gotten so used to Ezra popping out of thin air whenever he felt like it. However, the old reaction from Sam--that was golden. It used to be that Sam would shout, or maybe even scream, when Ezra magically appeared behind him, or next to him, or on top of him. It was the funniest thing to watch: Sam's blue eyes widening, a tiny jump, and sometimes a quick slap to the demon's face for a "reality check". Admittedly, this time wasn't nearly as amusing (he didn't quite feel like bursting out in laughter), but it was cute nonetheless. Sammii's eyes had widened for a second, but as he realized who was behind him, the awkward blush spread over his cheeks and he stayed still.

Then, the demon was greeted by the familiar smiling face, and felt the tingling of a kiss on his cheek. He reached up one of his hands to touch it, then let it drop to his side again. Ezra blinked his dark eyes and nodded as he was, again, greeted. "Hey," he murmured just as softly, smirk flicking onto his lips as he watched the other struggle for words against his embarrassment. What was he doing here? Uh, no, Sammii. What were you doing there? "I can't visit the auditorium anymore?" Lifting his free hand to straighten a lopsided spike, he obeyed Sam's movements and slid onto the bench, wrapping his other arm around the boy's shoulders. For a few moments, he simply stroked his fingers down the boy's hoodie and watched the keys of the piano and the rays of light it caught.

"Mm," he nodded, scratching the back of his neck and looking back down to the keys. "I know a little bit of it. Kjay tried to teach me, but I couldn't stand sitting in that room for more than a few hours." He shuddered, thinking back to Paris Hilton, then cleared his thoughts. "Why're you trying to learn it, anyway?" He rose an eyebrow, then looked down at Sam. "I thought you wanted to learn guitar." Unless he had missed something over the past few days?--which was entirely possible. He was Ezra Hart, after all.

[SAMMII KNOWELL]

  
EVERYTHING'S GONE MISSING ,
I'VE LOST MORE SONGS TO
FLOODS .

The werewolf giggled quietly, blushing slightly again. "No! I mean — you can visit the auditorium. Just... I didn't expect you to be here?" he rambled, trying to spit out an excuse. He was sure he didn't need one. It was just habit, though. Probably from so many years living with Cathy. But now he was just making himself sound like an idiot. As usual. And now Ezra would probably tease him. As usual. Damn. He was just trying to learn how to play their song so that he could give Ezra a surprise. But now that whole plan was ruined. He felt like he could never do anything nice for the demon. Maybe because Ezra always teleported them to amazing places like Italy or Florida. Sammii didn't have the power to teleport — nor did he work. And therefore, he couldn't afford a plane ride. Especially not for two people. With a whole nice trip added on to that. If he did want to do anything, he'd have to ask for money from Kenny. It always made him feel like an asshole to take all that money away from his older cousin.

So what else was he supposed to do for Ezra? This surprise had been his best idea. A frown overtook his face for a moment as he leaned against Ezra, feeling the other stroking his hoodie. He'd thought it would be a good way to say 'I love you' without saying it. Expressing how much he really did love Ezra was always too difficult to put into words anyway. The werewolf had been hoping playing and signing their song would sweep the taller boy off his feet. So much for that.

Sammii looked upwards at Ezra, erasing the frown (because he knew if the demon saw it, he'd get worried — and he didn't like when Ezra fussed over him for no good reason) and replacing it with a smile instead.

'Why're you trying to learn it, anyway?'

Damn. That was the question that he was really hoping Ezra wouldn't ask him. The werewolf bit down on his lip, chewing on his snakebites for a moment and gazing upwards through his black eyelashes again. Should he just say the real reason why? Okay. Stupid question. Even if he did decide to lie about it, Ezra would know. Anyone could tell when Sammii was lying — he sucked at it. And if anyone could, then Ezra certainly always was able to tell when he wasn't telling the truth. "Er...well..." he started out. The blush crossed his cheeks once more and he continued to chew at his lip — also a habit of his. "I wanted to learn it be-because...'cause I wanted to surprise you with it," he admitted shyly, looking down towards the white and black keys now instead of Ezra's murky blue eyes. "I th-thought it would be n-nice?" he finished uncertainly, the way he did quite often when he was speaking — especially if he was nervous about something. "But I guess it doesn't matter."

He heard the comment about playing the guitar and ventured a quick glance up before looking away again. "Well... I did? But piano's really pr-pretty. And besides — you play the guitar. A lot of other people do, too. So...I wanted to learn something dif-different." Sammii was probably the oddest kid around. He was shy — and quiet. But at the same time he would do anything to stick out and be different from everyone else. He wasn't even sure why. But knowing things everyone else knew didn't seem cool. He'd rather be the only one who could say they knew this or that.

! ¿ ? ! ¿ ? ! ¿ ? !

WORDS
6OH!5
TAGS
ezra !
OUTFIT
cliiiick.
NOTES
yay. decent post!

[EZRA HART]

O U T F I T.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He snorted a little as he watched Sam rambling on like he always did. That was one of the things that people told him--if there was a difference beween Sam and Ezra, other than the obvious race, grade, and state of mind, it was that Ezra could say a thought in one sentence and Sammii would take twenty minutes to explain it. Take, for example, the phrase "I have to walk the dog" as an excuse not to talk to someone. Ezra would simply and bluntly say "Fuck you, I've got better things to do", or, perhaps, "I'd rather watch a dog shit than keep listening to your whiny-ass voice". Sammii, however, would explain his dog's long history of medical needs and abusive past, which now required as much nourishment and love as possible, and letting the dog out was one of the routine moments of joy in its life--and one of the only ones. Besides, he'd add, since his parents were dead, he was the one who'd have to do all the walking, so, no, he couldn't stay another five minutes to hear the latest piece of gossip about the wedding.

And, really, all Sam had to say was that Ezra should've stopped showing up unexpected.

For a moment, he was bothered with the frown that curled at the edges of Sam's lips, but, just as quickly as it had appeared, the frown was replaced with a dazzling smile. He found it hard to get mad at Sam when he kept on being so fucking cute. He cleared the frown from his thoughts; he'd bug Sam about it later, as he usually did. Instead, he focused on how bright his eyes were, and how his smile was a bit lopsided, and how the blush seemed to spread quicker than gossip around the halls. Quickly, Sam's whole face was covered in pink. He bit his lip to keep from grinning insanely, and instead tilted his head to the side a little and watched as the smaller boy turned his gaze to the piano. What, shy? He smirked a little, then leaned a little closer. "It was very nice," he murmured, reaching out and brushing a few strands of dark hair behind Sam's ear so he could better see the boy.

Truly, it was much nicer watching Sam practice the song than having seen the finished product. First of all, it was thousands of times cuter--to see him mess up, get frustrated, and blush when he was found out and touched. Second, he seemed a lot more at ease--he could imagine Sam playing it when he knew it, and he would be a bit more uptight--just to make sure he got it right in front of Ezra. That kind of took the fun out of everything. "Of course it matters," he argued softly, leaning even closer and planting his lips on the boy's cheek. "I liked this a lot better," he added, "trust me on that one."

Ezra watched him curiously and silently for a few moments to see if he was telling the truth. Then, finally, he sat back up straight and let out a tiny sigh. "My offer still stands, though." He shrugged a little and stretched his arms out above his head. "I'll teach you guitar if you want to learn." It wasn't that he was hurt--far from it--but he was curious as to why Sam's motives would change all of the sudden. Just the other day he was complaining about how he didn't know how to play guitar--and now he wanted to learn piano? Then again, it sounded kind of like Sam. He brushed it off, then shook his head. "Anyway, it was really good. I like your voice." He rested an elbow on the piano and leaned on his fist. "Much better than Brandon Furie's."

He couldn't be bothered to keep up with pop singer's names.

[SAMMII KNOWELL]

  
EVERYTHING'S GONE MISSING ,
I'VE LOST MORE SONGS TO
FLOODS .

When the demon was silent for a while after Sam had rambled, he managed to steal a glance upwards — to make sure he was alright. Then heard the boy's words:

'It was very nice.'

It was...nice? But... It had sucked. He still couldn't play it right. How had it been nice? It was supposed to be perfect before he got to play it for Ezra — and now all of that was ruined. It wasn't nice at all. The frown returned to his face. Was the demon just trying to make him feel better because he hadn't been able to follow through with his orginal plans? Or maybe Sammii had really sucked and Ezra was trying to make him feel better about that. It could also be a mixture of the two. This was always what bothered the small werewolf whenever Ezra said something had been 'nice' or 'wonderful' or complimented him. He wasn't used to compliments. And the younger boy certainly didn't have the kind of self-esteem that accepted them. To him, usually, a compliment was more of a cover-up for making him feel better about something he was trying to do. That's what a lot of people had done to him in the past anyway. Friends and aunts and uncles back home. They'd congratulate him and tell him it was great. But then when he showed it off to less sympathetic eyes, he would get laughed at and made fun of.

Compliments just scared him, he supposed. It was hard to tell the person's true intentions when they were given. Even though he was sure that Ezra truly meant them.

"But..." he started to mumble, blushing a deeper shade of red as his eyes moved to follow the hand that tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Again, he heard Ezra tell him that it was 'nice.' Actually that he liked it much better. Better than if he had played it perfectly..? So... Even if he had learned it perfectly, Ezra wouldn't have liked it?

That made him feel so much better.

The frown deepened, although he felt the kiss land on his cheek. Why was it that whenever he thought he was trying to do something good for someone he loved, it wasn't the right thing? It hadn't been his intent to let Ezra see him play it while he was still learning. It had been his intent for Ezra to see it after. First, his whole plan had been flushed down the drain. Now he was learning his plan hadn't even been a good one to start out with. "Okay." He couldn't help the disappointment that escaped with his voice. It was stupid — he shouldn't get his feelings hurt over something like this. Ezra was still happy with him, right? That was all that should matter. That had been still been what he had been aiming for, hadn't it? You're a moron, Samuel.

For a moment, Sammii just watched Ezra as he stretched back, speaking; wondering how the demon always managed to seem so laid-back and collected. He wished he could do that. He always found himself in awe of everything Ezra did. From the way he spoke and the way he moved to the things he did in his life and how bold he was. It was like he didn't care. Sammii was sure he did, at least sometimes; with some people. But he rarely showed it all the time. He wished he could be that good of an actor. Instead of the sensitive idiot he was. No one really liked a guy that cried over the smallest things. Guys were normally stereotyped as 'macho' people. Not Disney-loving crybabys.

Then he realized Ezra was probably expecting an answer about the offer on guitar lessons. He took another few seconds to think. "Well... If you really don't mind... I'd l-like to," Sam mumbled, looking up at the demon with shiny blue eyes now.

— Did Ezra just say his voice was better than Brandon Furie's? First off, Sammii was pretty sure he meant Brendon Urie. And secondly, there was no way that he could possily, in a bagillion years, sound better than the lead singer of Panic at the Disco. He might as well have said Patrick Stump was the ugliest man in the world (which would probably come up some time — because for some reason Ezra was actually jealous that Sam liked him). "Ah. Ezra...love. Its Brendon. Urie. Not Brandon Furie," he corrected, unable to help the faint smile that broke through his frown. "And I really don't sound better than he does — at all," he tacked on, trying to deflect the most recent compliment to be thrown his way.

! ¿ ? ! ¿ ? ! ¿ ? !

WORDS
784 !
TAGS
ezra !
OUTFIT
cliiiick.
NOTES
yay longer post c:

[EZRA HART]

O U T F I T.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Well, no duh, Sam. Of course he still wanted to teach him how to play guitar. He rolled his eyes and nodded. "I don't mind at all." That was like saying he didn't like strawberry ice cream, or he hadn't murdered half of the dead kids, or his name was the fifth most popular name in the United States. It was, quite frankly, absurd. He loved spending time with Sam--whether it was teaching him how to play guitar, or eating ice cream with him, or tanning at the beach--maybe not disney movies (there was a whole rant involved, trust him), but as long as he could see that boy smile, he would be there. Unless, of course, it had anything to do with Asher. Then he would develop a mysterious sickness, like Paris Hilton's New BFF, or AIDS.

"Brandon Furie, Brendon Urine. Whatever." That was a retarded name, anyway. Brendon Urine. Who would name their kid that? Granted, last names were inherited, so it wasn't actually the parent's fault (well, it was partially the mother's fault for marrying a douche with a stupid last name). Then again, he could've changed his name, but who in their right mind would change their name to Brendon Urine? Oh, that's right. Someone with a shitty voice who wrote songs about love that he never truly had. "Hah. No, trust me--you sound ten times better than that guy." He ran a few fingers through his raven-colored hair and added, "And I know, I've stolen your ipod tons of times. He sounds like he has something stuck in his throat."

He shrugged a bit. "Anyway. You wanna learn the song, or do you wanna come home with me?" He nodded over his shoulder to the backpack he'd set at the edge of the stage. "Where's your stuff?" There was a chance that Sam had beaten him home to the apartment and--somehow--gotten back to the auditorium before he'd even got halfway there (Paris Hilton marathons always slowed him down). He blinked, then looked back to Sam with a small grin. "Unless, of course, you'd like to stay here and show me a bit more of your outstanding talent."

He had a strong feeling that he was going to get smacked today.

[SAMMII KNOWELL]

  
EVERYTHING'S GONE MISSING ,
I'VE LOST MORE SONGS TO
FLOODS .

He decided that it would just be best if he made himself cheer up. It would save him from being interrogated by Ezra later, after all. And anything that got him out of being interrogated by Ezra for frowning for two seconds was definitely worth it. Because then he would have to go into this whole long, awkward explanation about how he was stupid (which always got him in more trouble when he called himself that) and why Ezra hearing him before he had wanted to the demon to hear him had actually upset him a lot. And, after he was done explaining that, he was sure Ezra would start to feel bad because he had upset Sammii. So then the werewolf would have to go on another long ramble about how Ezra shouldn't feel bad about anything — because then it made him feel even worse.

It was like this whole ridiculous circle.

But then they would make up again. And went on happily ever after with their lives. Thank goodness.

"Then I'll learn, Ezza," he replied, smiling again at the demon. "I'd really like to." He couldn't stop watching the demon's every move as he sat beside him. The taller boy was so amazing. I love you. With all my heart. It was true. Even if Ezra didn't know who Brendon Urie was — or at least didn't seem to care who he was. Or if he hated Disney movies — even though he would watch them with Sammii anyway. Which then proceeded to make the werewolf feel bad when he remembered that Ezra didn't like them at all, yet he always made the other watch them. The two were so different. Every once in a while, when he took the time to sit down and actually think about it, he realized how weird they probably were together. They were absolute and complete opposites of each other. But wasn't there that phrase of 'opposites attract' or something? When he remember that, it made more sense. Ezra and him were just, simply, made for each other. Soul mates; destined to be with each other forever and ever. No matter how many people hate the fact that they were together and tried to get them apart. They would always come back to each other. Even as friends they had been that, actually. No matter how annoying Ezra was to him, Sammii never left for long.

Until that wonderful night at the Secret — when Ezra kissed him. He smiled a bit wider at the memory and kissed Ezra's cheek again.

Urine? "No! Its Urie, silly!" He couldn't help but giggle at it. That was nasty. What kind of last name was Urine? He'd feel bad for the person stuck with that last name. Sammii listened disbelievingly as Ezra continued to speak about the Panic at the Disco singer. What?! No. Way. "Brendon does not!" he said defensively, "Brendon Urie's voice is almost as amazing as Patrick's! It doesn't sound at all like there's something stuck in his throat. I mean, he sings our song and everything!" How could Ezra say that? It was their song — it was amazing. And it was Brendon Urie — also amazing. A pout crossed Sammii's face, a mechanism used to get his way, at least with Ezra. It could normally get an apology out of him if the werewolf tried hard enough.

'Anyway. You wanna learn the song, or do you wanna come home with me?'

Sammii wiped the pout of his face, a thoughful one probably crossing its pale features now. He supposed there wasn't much use in staying much longer to play, was there? Ezra already knew he was doing it — there wasn't a rush to get it done any longer. "Can we go to your house?" he answered, putting it in the form of a polite question, as he normally did. Actually, it may be their apartment now. He wasn't that sure. He had a key. And half of his stuff was there already because he spent so much time there on weekends and after school anyway. But he still had a dorm room, and he still stayed there the majority of the time. That was definitely a question that he needed to clear up with Ezra sometime. "Ahh. My stuff's over there." The werewolf motioned towards almost the other side of the stage, where his schoolbag sat. He'd put it down there before he'd hopped up on the stage and walked over to the piano to play. He rolled his eyes and remained silent as Ezra added on a last bit about staying here and listening to more of his 'outstanding talent.' It would probably be to not disagree.

"Let's just go," he insisted, standing up and sticking his tongue out at the demon; pulling him up off the bench with him. Or, at least, trying to pull him up. Ezra was stronger and bigger than he was.

! ¿ ? ! ¿ ? ! ¿ ? !

WORDS
eighttwotwo !
TAGS
ezra !
OUTFIT
cliiiick.
NOTES
even longer!
i was surprised cx

[EZRA HART]

O U T F I T.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Then learn you will, Sam," he replied, sticking his tongue out childishly. Ezza. He hadn't been called Ezza in a long time. At the school they'd moved to, he and Sam had shared a dorm; unfortunately, most of their time was spent out of it, whether it was because of classes, or friends, or family. Sam had become more attached to Dani (which he had honestly thought wasn't humanly possible) ever since he'd "used" her to get back in some dirty scheme. That wasn't what bothered him, really; Dani had moved on to Adrien, so there was a blatant lack of suspicion for the redheaded girl. What bothered him was that he got to see Sam for five minutes in the morning, before they went to school, five minutes afterwards, when they just got out, and then five minutes right before they went to bed. But, hey--they'd gotten back to Winterthorne, right? And teaching Sam guitar meant that he could spend more time with him.

He was glad that he was able to teach the boy something, at least. Sam had opted to teach him manners (which was working, sort of); Kjara had (kind of) taught him how to dance; Asher had taught him how to be a slut, and Parker had taught him an effective way of distracting people while other's went off to make-out with said person's boyfriend in a hospital. These were useful life lessons. What they learned at school was shit--except, maybe, Battle Tactics class. Ever since teachers had started disappearing, more and more of them had dropped out, and it had become harder to hire Class-A teachers. The Administration, obviously, was pissed, and decidedly took their anger out on students. This went the same for all the new teachers who were hired, who were honestly just trying to make some money, and were shit scared that they were going to be the next victim in Winterthorne's murder case. So, with everyone ganging up on the students, there was a lot less learning going on and a lot more playground-bullying. People had started to leave Winterthorne because it was turning into such a shitty school. He was going to stay--mainly because he was in his senior year, and he was going to live it damn well--but also because Sam was there, and he couldn't figure out a way to spend more time with him otherwise. Plus, there was always the chance that he'd get yelled at for dropping out (a huge chance, actually), and get the whole "you're wasting your life" lecture.

But back to current matters.

Urie? He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Same thing, Sam. Ezra, Erza. Who gives a fuck, really?" Blair sure as hell didn't. Everywhere he went, now, he was greeted by a group of freshmen yelling Hey, Exra! or, perhaps, How ya doin', Erza? It was damn annoying, and he couldn't seem to rid himself of it--and if he had to suffer, Brendon Urie had to suffer as well. These were the times when he believed in the whole eye-for-an-eye thing. Suddenly, his eyes snapped to Sam's, and he knew he'd hit a nerve. Perfect. Biting back an aggravated sigh, he listened to Sam ramble on about why Brandon--no, excuse him, Brendon Urie--was so amazing. "Right, and it's a great song with fantastic lyrics, but he sounds like he shoved a wool scarf down his throat for fun." However, as soon as the pout crossed the other boy's face, he knew he had lost the battle. Quickly, he averted his gaze. "Fuck. Fine. He has an amazing voice. Will you quit that now?"

Stupid pouting.

As soon as Sam stood up, he gave a groan. I don't want to move. Grinning, he shook his head and gradually gave in to Sam's tugging. "Alright, alright," he laughed, pulling himself to his feet. "Let's get your stuff, then." He stuck his tongue out right back, and then took the younger boy's hand and lead him toward the side of the stage where their stuff lay.

"Are you staying tonight?"

That was code for yes, you are staying at my house, and no, I don't have a spare bed.

[SAMMII KNOWELL]

  
EVERYTHING'S GONE MISSING ,
I'VE LOST MORE SONGS TO
FLOODS .

Well. The pouting had won. Yet again. Quickly, after the 'will you quit that now?' Sammii erased the pout from his face, replacing it with a triumphic smile. "Sure!" he replied enthusiastically. He probably sounded like an asshole whenever he did that. But oh well. Ezra still loved him. At least — he was pretty positive that Ezra still loved him. If the demon didn't, he'd be so depressed. But Ezra did. He was sure Ezra did. No doubts about it anymore. Sammii had spent too much time doubting it before.

The werewolf let out his giggle as he heard the groan leave Ezra's mouth. He knew exactly what the demon would be complaining about this time. "Stop being so lazy and get up!" he laughed, gripping onto the other boy's hands tighter and attempting even harder to get the taller boy up onto his feet. "C'monnnn Ezra!" Finally, the spiky-haired demon had gotten on to his feet. "That's more like it." He giggled once more and leaned over a little bit, getting up on his tiptoes (just a little, Ezra wasn't that much taller, even if he liked to pretend he was) and laying a quick kiss on the other boys lips. He held on tightly to the other boy's hand and moved happily towards the other side of the stage, towards his school bag.

'Are you staying tonight?'

Yeah. Like Ezra actually meant that as a real question. Sammii knew better than that; Ezra was more like assuming that Sammii was going to stay over tonight. Actually, not even assuming — saying that he was going to stay over tonight. Unless the small werewolf really decided that he didn't want to stay. If he argued against it enough, he would be able to win. Of that he as pretty sure. But, of course, he wasn't going to say no to staying over. He had absolutely no problem with sleeping over Ezra's house. Ezra knew how Sammii worked well enough not to give the werewolf a reason to want to leave, anyway. "Yeah. Of course I'll stay tonight," he answered, smiling warmly upwards at Ezra.

When they finally reached their bookbags, Sammii released the other boy's hand for a moment, picking up the strap of his bag and putting it up on his one shoulder. Then he turned to look at the demon again, waiting for him to start the way back to the apartment.

"Can we walk there?" the werewolf questioned. Sure, teleporting was easier, he assumed. But then he knew that there was always a danger that something could happen to him or Ezra — a chance he really hated to think about. And then there was the fact that he still got sick to the stomach whenever he had to be teleported somewhere.

And there was also the fact you got to see more. It was a nice day out. They had plenty of reason to walk all the way to Ezra's apartment, even if it required walking all across the grounds and the to the apartment complex, located inside the city. There was no way he would say yes to a driving offer, if Ezra offered it, either. Sammii swore the demon was going to kill them with his driving skills one day. It scared him.

! ¿ ? ! ¿ ? ! ¿ ? !

OUTFIT
cliiiick.

[EZRA HART]

I'MMMMMMMMMM GETTING TO THIS.

DON'T THINK I'M NOT.


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