A FORTUNE FOR YOUR DISASTER }{ Tag: Jane/Becca

[SHANE DEVAN ROSS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]626 WORDS FOR JANE/BECCA Hey look I wrote Shane in third person and it wasn't that terrible! But yeah hurray for Shane angst. SHANE [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;] Being stuck in a school for fucked up teenagers with fucked up powers was not particularly good for fucked up Shane. He hadn’t had time to really think about how he was feeling until that evening, since he’d had classes all day and that prevented any sort of independent thought. He wasn’t used to school. He hadn’t put any effort into it for ages and after dropping out, he lost any of the last traces of work ethic that his body had, until then, clung to in a desperate attempt to not completely be a useless failure. Not that he was going to do any of it, but they certainly did give a lot of work out. The whole thing was just a lot to handle. He wasn’t used to being away from home. Regardless of not liking home particularly, he missed it when he was away. Being anywhere besides his own bedroom just reminded him of being in mental wards and being reminded of being in mental wards made him ridiculously depressed. Everything in here looked so sterile. Not as much as the hospitals always did, but the place was so much cleaner than his room at home. The walls were whole and there weren’t razors stashed in small spaces. Thus far, he’d been able to keep all of his clothes organized. What was clean was in the tiny standard dorm dresser and what was dirty was in a pile in the corner. He wasn’t particularly fond of messes, but when things are too neat, it felt like it was mocking him. Look how clean and organized everything is! UNLIKE YOUR LIFE. HAHAHA. But it wasn’t like he could do much about it. Typically they frown on people carving swear words into their school dorm room. And, since it wasn’t a secret how much he didn’t want to be there, he figured that they wouldn’t expel him. They’d probably just make him stay another year, and that would be worse. Situation analysis: He had time to think, the room was mocking him, and he had no idea how to go about dealing with it. Conclusion: Shane was depressed. It wasn’t even the angry sort of depression that made him want to tear out his veins and let all his blood paint the carpet a more exciting color. That was the kind he knew how to deal with. But this was the empty depression. It was the sort that wanted to die but didn’t want to do anything about it. It was the desperate hope that he could just lay down and stop breathing and let the world fade to black. That’s where he was at the moment: laying on his bed with his eyes closed, wondering if it was physically possible to think one’s brain into releasing chemicals the right way. He realized after a few minutes of trying that he was actually speaking out loud to himself, which was stupid because it wasn’t even like he had split or anything. Talking to yourself in another body is okay because they can’t hear your thoughts. Talking to yourself as one singular person was just crazy. As true as that descriptor might be, he refused to let himself be crazy. Being crazy and being depressed at the same time were not okay. There was enough wrong with him already. Eventually he decided that if he was going to talk, he needed there to be someone there with him because then talking out loud was excusable. So he texted Jane. Even in the fucking loony bin of a school that he’d been forced to attend, he could usually count on Jane to show up when he needed her to. "Hey, are you busy?" [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[JANE ALYSSA HUNTRY]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: f9f9f9; border: #d96a70 solid 10px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] sometime later, getting the words wrong I'm not. I'll be there in a minute. It had been a long time since Jane had had to really ask what Shane needed when he sent her a text like that. Besides, she was too worried about him. There was always that little voice in her head that told her to be there just in case he needed to talk or he was close to falling off of the edge ooooor he was violently slashing into his wrists with a giant knife. She wished she didn't, but Jane thought about that often. It terrified her that he ever even thought about hurting himself. She didn't really like to tell Shane that it scared her, because she didn't know how he would react and yeah. It was stupid of her to be that caught up on it, wasn't it? She should trust him to call her when he needed her. And he usually did. But ever since she had gotten over whatever it is that had made her disappear, Shane had become one of the most important things in Jane's life. Making sure Shane stayed alive. Trying to figure out how to fix Shane. Praying that one day he would be happy. Suggesting that he get laid. Showing up when he needed her. Letting him talk to her. Pretending that she wasn't signing anything when he ignores her. But don't let that fool anyone, no sir. Shane helps Jane plenty. He distracts her from her brother's sudden hatred of her and from Jerry's weirdness and Vanessa's argumentativeness. As long as she is trying to fix him, Jane will use him to get away from the rest of the world. Not to mention she's totally in love with him and just doesn't know it yet. Some days were more difficult than others. Sometimes she was in a bad mood and Shane never failed to notice. Of course, she wasn't very cooperative. Nor was he very good at comforting her. But at least he tried. That was the important thing, wasn't it? Their friendship wasn't exactly balanced out, but they both made the effort, and there was nothing else you could ask her for in a friend. Anyway, it was entirely too late for her to realize that she was still in her pajamas and her hair was still unwashed when she knocked on Shane's door. In fact, she was wearing an old sweater of Avery's that was entirely too small and only socks on her feet that probably had holes in them. She supposed it didn't matter. She and Shane weren't the sort of friends that had seen each other naked, really, but they didn't much care. Or at least she hoped they weren't the sort to care. Christ, stop worrying about everything. When Shane answered the door, Jane gave him a slight smile. "Hi. Are you okay?" she signed. She wished she could talk to him. She wonder if it would make things easier or if it would just be more difficult. For her, she knew it would tear everything apart. She didn't think she could handle it. But maybe it would be good for Shane. To see that things like that could be gotten over. You're being stupid. Stop over-thinking everything. Jane had been trying for years to psycho-analyze Shane. Even though she wanted to be a psychologist, she didn't know much about it at the moment. Nothing more than what she knew from being around Shane all the time. She also knew that he hated the idea of someone listening to him because they had to. But Jane would have listened to him no matter what. Her eyes flashed to his hands and arms, and then past him, into the room, just to be sure. She was almost shaking with worry. She couldn't help it. She was born with the inability to let things go hardwired into her brain. which way to something better? tagged otpotp words 651 outfit here notes i am not good at third person jane there isn't enough sarcasm credits irisheyes of C.20

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[SHANE DEVAN ROSS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]692 WORDS FOR Jane/Becca hi. SHANE [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;] You are total shit. Why the fuck would you bother Jane just because you’re in a bad mood? It’s not fair to make her drop everything for you all the time, you despicable cunt. Suppose she was doing something. You know she wouldn’t say she was busy if she thought you were going to hurt yourself. And the only reason she thinks that is because you do all the fucking time. Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking bitch about everything you wouldn’t ruin everything all the time. Sometimes it was a mystery to him if these thoughts were a side effect of the depression or if the depression was a side effect of these thoughts. These days it was getting hard to tell. He was still laying on his bed in a miserable sprawl when his phone vibrated from somewhere next to his head. Without opening his eyes, he fished around across his blankets and pillows until he felt the familiar plastic body of his cell phone. It was only once he had opened the message that he even bothered to open his eyes. I’m not. I’ll be there in a minute, he read. It was probably a lie. Jane had friends here. She was probably spending time with one of them. That would make sense. Why the fuck are you so needy, Shane? God. But Shane supposed that the text meant he was obligated to get up and start functioning. Sitting up, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. On the whole, he felt rather stupid. He shouldn’t need someone to take care of him all the time. He was sixteen for fuck’s sake. He wasn’t an infant anymore, oddly enough. He slid himself off the bed and did a half-assed job of straightening out the blankets so he wouldn’t look like a total slob when Jane got there, but he realized part way through the job that she’d been in his actual bedroom at home so it didn’t really fucking matter, now, did it? When he heard her knock, he slowly went over to the door and opened it without much of a greeting. "Fine,” he said in response to her question. He was slightly reassured to see that she hadn’t done much more with her appearance than he had. Most of the time she looked better than he did because he was just completely unable to give a fuck anymore. His self-image was already so terrible that it hardly mattered if his clothes looked good or if his hair was done right or whatever. But having her be disheveled as well was helpful. At least a little bit. Her unkempt appearance was just enough for him to miss how nervous she was. Ordinarily, he would have picked it up right away. Maybe it was the way she looked today that threw him off, or maybe he was just too self-absorbed at the moment to care. It bothered him when he saw her checking his wrists and the wall and everything. He supposed it was justifiable, but he couldn’t help being offended. She didn’t even trust him not to start slashing into everything. But he chose to ignore it. “Come in,” he said, moving aside so she could get in the door, then closed it behind her. He sat down on the edge of his bed, since the dorm rooms weren’t really the best place for hosting guests and lacked certain furniture like chairs and such. He didn’t say anything, naturally. It was her job to make him open up about things. That was the only way things ever seemed to happen with the two of them. It didn’t make a lot of sense for a kid so against being interrogated to only be able to talk to people when answering questions, but that was just the way it worked with him. Shane usually had a lot on his mind but not much to say, because he really did not believe that anyone could possibly care to hear all of the things he thought. [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[JANE ALYSSA HUNTRY]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: f9f9f9; border: #d96a70 solid 10px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] sometime later, getting the words wrong The first thing Jane noticed was that Shane looked like he had just rolled out of bed. Even more than usual, even. She tugged self-consciously down at the bottom of her sweatshirt, which didn't do much to improve anything. It's just Shane. Calm down. Christ. It's not like he looks any better. Quit stressing. There wasn't much by way of greeting, just the two of them looking at each other and probably thinking about how bad they looked in comparison to the other, until Shane told her to come in, and she did, wishing she had worn shoes. His room was kind of gross. Not that she thought badly, but he and Avery were of the same species, and if Avery had squishy socks on his floor, Shane might too. But Jane pushed those thoughts from her head, because it was a little bit disconcerting and it made her stomach feel weird to think of Shane like that in any way. Like the one time she had jokingly mentioned watching porn . . . Whatever, it didn't matter. Jane sat down on his bed and pulled her knees up to her chest. She was glad to note that he hadn't hurt himself yet, that she could see. She didn't think he had anything to do it with at school yet. She hoped it would be harder for him to find something in a more controlled environment like this one. It scared the crap out of her when Shane hurt himself. She couldn't understand what he would want to do that to himself for. It wasn't obvious, if you just talked to him once, but there was something so undeniably great about Shane. At least, there was to Jane. She'd seen it a few times, but it took a lot of work to get it out. Jane bit her lip and tilted her head to the side. She didn't sign anything at first, just in case he wanted to launch right into it, but she should have seen it coming that that wasn't happening. So she signed, "You okay?" she signed, just because it was only two words. She knew he wasn't, but she thought maybe that might not make him go on a weird rant that time. Just in case it did, she also said, "How are you coping? With your power and everything? And the people, and everything? I mean, I guess not well . . . I'm sorry. Are you okay?" Jane probably asked Shane that question thirty or fourty times a day. One of her biggest fears was losing one of the people she was closest too. She wasn't sure why, but particularly Shane. She felt like if he could just overcome whatever he was going through, it would do a lot of good for everyone involved and he could . . . Well. He could be happy and he could have a normal life and everything would just be so much better if Shane was okay. She pushed a hand through her hair, then let it drop in her lap. She wished she knew more about what Shane was going through and more about the way he thought and more about the way people in general thought and she wished there was an easy way to fix him. That was what she really wanted. She wanted to be the one to make him happy. It didn't matter what she had to do--she had already proven that. What mattered was whether or not she would be able to do it. Everything pointed to no. She had spent countless hours over-analyzing everything he did and said to no avail. All she did was confuse herself and come up with stupid, obvious conclusions that a duck could have made. A lot of the time, it made her think that wanting to be a psychiatrist was probably the stupidest idea she had ever had. What kind of psychologist can't even fix her own issues? Much less that of the two boys--Avery and Shane--she was closest to in life. There was something wrong with that picture and she didn't like it. Maybe she just wasn't good enough. Maybe she wasn't cut out to be a psychiatrist. which way to something better? tagged otpotp words 705 outfit here notes i should have used the gif of her crying credits irisheyes of C.20

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[SHANE DEVAN ROSS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]767 WORDS FOR Jane/Becca I love angsty Shane so much it comes way more easily than it should it's actually probably unhealthy to have all this muse in me. SHANE [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;] I’m not okay I’m not okay I’m not okay Jane I’m really, really not okay. As much as the thought repeated itself in his mind, however, Shane didn’t know how to make the words come out. Even if he did, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to tell Jane. It would just worry her, and she already worried about him enough without him aggravating it with his pointless whining. Jane was to being worried as Shane was to being depressed. He knew he didn’t like his defining trait, so he could imagine she didn’t feel much better about hers. She asked if he was okay, which was laughable, as if he ever did anything of the sort. Of course he wasn’t okay. Had she looked at him? Did she realize where she was? She knew him well enough to realize that he wouldn’t bother her if he was okay. The worst part of being so not okay was that there was absolutely no reason to feel that way. Everyone around was at least half decent to him and nothing was falling apart. And yet, it felt to him right now like the universe was turning inside out. There was a void forming and it was starting inside his chest and it threatened to destroy him in its futile attempt to destroy all existence. He was just an insignificant pawn in something much bigger. He had a feeling that this was not a normal feeling. He was supposed to feel important in his own life. That was the point of living, right? Being the center of something. But he never felt quite like that. Most of the time, he saw himself as a distraction from something better. Like one of those photographs that are set up to be beautiful and elaborate and timeless, but then something shows up in the background that ruins it, like a passerby with a stupid expression or a dead body or some shit. The world would clearly be a better place if they could just get him out of the way. Photoshop him out or let him off himself--whichever was easier. ”I really hate it here, Jane. I don’t want the powers and I don’t want to go to class and I don’t want to deal with the classes and there’s just too much going on and I can’t handle all of it at the same time.” That was the simplest way he knew how to put it. Simple was the way he needed to keep his emotions when talking to Jane, because he knew if he started elaborating, he knew he’d end up talking about his need to cut himself and that was filed in his brain under Things Not To Talk To Jane About. Even so, the need was there. The depression often changed between Empty Depression and Angry Depression and the latter stage was kicking in. Shane was glad he had a sweatshirt on, since it gave him somewhere to keep his hands. Thank God for whoever invented hoodies with separate pockets. He’d probably end up scratching his inner forearm until he bled without them, what with the way he was feeling at the moment. He clenched his fists tighter and tighter until his fingernails dug into his palm enough to really feel it. Maybe if he did it hard enough, the feeling would go away. It wasn’t as though he was really in the opportune position to start cutting himself, anyway. Jane was here. He didn’t have the supplies. And Jane was here. And he didn’t have anything to cut himself with. Shane really started regretting asking her to come over then. It would’ve been better for all involved if he’d just dealt with this on his own. He was a big kid now, he could deal with his own problems, right? He was too fucking emotionally handicapped. He couldn’t even handle being sad on his own. He couldn’t even imagine what it must be like for people that didn’t have a Jane to come rushing to their side. They were probably all dead. But he couldn’t afford to think like that. If he started envying the people without someone who cared about them, he’d start pushing everyone out and if he started doing that, he’d be back to when it was worst. And when things got worse, he started acting rashly and frequently ended in the hospital and then spending months in psych wards so he didn’t perform suicidal actions anymore. This is so unfair. I don’t want this. Make it stop. [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[JANE ALYSSA HUNTRY]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: f9f9f9; border: #d96a70 solid 10px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] sometime later, getting the words wrong Jane's mind was a whirlwind. Her face was calm, definitely. She had always been good at that. But her brain was on autopilot. There had never been anything that she could do to stop that. Anytime she was around Shane, Jane became a totally different person. Not necessarily in a bad way, but she was always so scared that that time was going to be the last time she would ever get to see him. She kind of just considered herself a loving person, but, in reality, she didn't feel that way about anyone else. Maybe it was just because the threat was always there with Shane. Death seemed to constantly be hanging over him. Or maybe it was her undying love. Regardless, she spent a lot of her time praying that she would never have to see Tracy dressed in black at her only child's funeral. And Shane isn't even really Tracy's child. But she had always been pretty good at making him feel better. Never good, of course. Shane was never more than okay. In fact, Jane's goal in life lately had been to ask Shane how he was doing and get a positive response for once. It didn't even have to be truly positive. It could be semi-positive. Anything was better than being constantly depressed. Jane had wondered, too, if there were other people like Shane. She wondered--hoped--if they had people that cared about them, or if, maybe, that was why people became depressed in the first place. Because they didn't have anyone to care about them. Or because they didn't think that they did. Jane bit her lip. It was cool being able to do those sort of things and talk at the same time. She had never really gotten the match-the-expression-to-what-your-signing thing down. "You'll get used to it. The teachers are great and most of the students are really understanding. And most of us hate our powers, Shane. That's not the point. You're supposed to learn how to live with it. That's why you're here. Maybe if you talk to the principal and get Tracy to call you can cut down on classes or something." She had more to say, but her arms were getting tired, so she had to put them down. That, and, she could never be totally sure that Shane was even listening to what she had to say. A lot of the time, he just talked over her and after he had said everything he needed to say, he was better. He just needed someone to listen to him. But this felt a lot worse than usual. Jane had never considered herself extremely intuitive, but there was a sort of heavy feeling about being in Shane's room today. Heavier than usual, since it always stressed her out to be having one of these conversations. One of the things that stressed Jane out the most, she was pretty sure, was that Shane never told her everything. Or at least, she didn't think he did. There was no way he could be as miserable as he was if he wasn't feeling more than he said. But she liked to think that it was because he didn't want to freak her out, which she appreciated because she most definitely would have freaked out. Jane's mind had always been based on a problem-solution basis. If there was a problem, there was always a solution. Always. Not necessarily a fix-all solution, but a solution nonetheless. Until Shane became depressed. There was no solution to that. He hated doctors and nothing she did ever worked and he was never happy and nothing that anyone ever did helped. She stared down at her hands in her lap. She was playing with the hair tie on her right wrist, mostly because she needed something to do while she tried to re-assess Shane. She had been trying to figure him out forever and a day. She couldn't even remember, now, the time when they had been happier. When he had been happy, she supposed. She still had the capacity to smile and mean it. She was grateful for that. What she wasn't grateful for was the constant buzzing in her mind telling her that she should be able to fix this. That there had to be something she could do and she was just missing it. She felt very inadequate when it came to Shane. She never did anything that made a real impact on his mental health and it really really really sucked. How on earth was she going to be a successful anything if she couldn't even fix her best friend? I just really want to be a kid again. which way to something better? tagged otpotp words 782 outfit here notes they are so depressing omg IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT OKAY credits irisheyes of C.20

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[SHANE DEVAN ROSS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]730 WORDS FOR jane/becca This post has less words than the one before it. Ooh combo breaker. I would've made it longer but I thought that that was pretty much the angstiest thing I could write and I had to end with it. SHANE [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;] Nothing against Jane or anything, but sometimes her suggestions were really fucking stupid. Shane knew full well he wouldn’t be doing anything she advised, but he thought it would be rude to tell her how terrible they were, so he settled for a ”Maybe,” and contented himself by thinking of all the ways her plan would not work for him. He did appreciate her, there was no doubt. It was almost certain that without her, he would’ve killed himself by now. Shane didn’t know if she knew that or not, but he hoped she did. It was so important to feel important. There were few people more important to him than Jane was. That didn’t mean, though, that she didn’t say really unhelpful things in her attempts to make him feel better. Anyone that knew him knew that Shane had issues adjusting. He wasn’t about to get used to it. He didn’t get used to anything. He’d been living with Tracy and James for ten years and he still sometimes had issues dealing with how clingy Tracy was or how disagreeable James was. He’d gone through ten years of school and didn’t get used to it, and that wasn’t going to change just because now, not only was he at a school full of normal people he didn’t want to go near, all of these kids had super powers. At any given time, they could be reading his mind or his emotions or looking into his memories and he didn’t want to be near them. Is there a proper way to adjust to that? Maybe it was just his inexperience in socialization, but he really didn’t think so. The fact that most of the students hate their powers, too, was equally as ridiculous.Everyone hates cancer, but it doesn’t go away. A lot of people hate terrorism, but people still throw bombs on each other because they don’t believe the same thing. Most of the students hate their powers, too, but you still have to fucking deal with them. It wasn’t as though he had anything that could be potentially helpful at all. He just had his younger-but-equally-miserable self to talk to and the unyielding fear that at some point he would accidentally summon his future self. He didn’t know what was worse: the idea of being alive long into the future or being dead. Suicidal though he may be, there is no way to be okay with the sight of one’s own dead body. Learn to live with it. He knew she meant this for the best, but Shane was very touchy about things like that. Why bother living with it, after all, when you could easily just die and not have to deal with it at all? Naturally, Jane hadn’t meant to plant ideas like that in his head, but it was always there, begging to be heard. The whole thing with the classes was ridiculous as well. It wasn’t like he’d do his work if he had less classes, anyways, and he didn’t want to bother Tracy with requests he knew she wouldn’t fulfill. She’d want him to try. To put forth effort. That was something he couldn’t do. Not with school, on top of the effort he put in on just trying to stay alive. It all sounded so pathetic. He was such a baby about this whole thing. Billions of people get through school without having a mental breakdown every day. Millions of people want to go to school and can’t because of their gender or economics or the sheer unavailability of a school. He should be able to handle it but he couldn’t. He tried to blame it on being stupid or the depression, but in all honesty, the whole thing just overwhelmed him. It felt like he was drowning in work and forced socialization, and his way of coping was to give up and get out. He was sure there had to be a better way, but Shane didn’t know it. Fuck this. I just want to go back home. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and scratched his inner left forearm, doing his best to make it look nonchalant. It wasn't as though he'd be tearing himself up while he wasn't alone, but he was getting desperate. If only Jane would leave. He needed to do something. [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[JANE ALYSSA HUNTRY]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: f9f9f9; border: #d96a70 solid 10px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] sometime later, getting the words wrong Jane knew almost immediately, though not because of his reaction, that Shane would never do any of the things she had suggested. Sometimes he made her feel really inadequate without even trying. She felt her stomach do a little flip of frustration. There had to be some way to help him. Today he wasn't really telling her anything about what was going on, so she was a little lost as of what direction to take. She took a deep breath and puffed up her bangs when she let it out. She noticed him fidgeting with his arms and it freaked her out a little. It didn't worry her, that she knew that he hurt himself, it just made her really really sad. She knew she couldn't help it and that even if she was around a lot and he never did it in front of her, it still happened. There wasn't much she could do to stop him from cutting or whatever else he did. Initially, she just pretended it didn't exist but it had gotten pretty hard to ignore in the past year or so. Usually she didn't say anything. It was a sort of rule of their friendship that they didn't talk about stuff like that. There were a lot of things that they didn't talk about. That bothered Jane. She wished she could just read Shane's mind or something. Of all the powers she could have gotten, she couldn't have had one that was at least useful in helping one person? Jane bit her lip and tugged at the sleeves of her sweatshirt, which stopped about three inches above her wrist. Maybe Shane should shrink all of his long-sleeve clothes so his wrists are always exposed, so then he wouldn't cut so much because he wouldn't want anyone to see and God knows he'd never go and buy himself any new clothes. It had been silent for a really long time. For a split second, Jane thought she might actually say something to him. Physically speak. That's how desperate she was to get some sort of reaction out of him or see some sort of difference in . . . whatever was going on with him. But it passed. Truthfully, Jane had a lot of moments like these. She had never been so close to speaking as she was when she was around Shane and it terrified her sometimes if she thought about it too much. "You're talkative tonight," she signed lamely. She suddenly felt very tired. Not physically or mentally. But somewhere very deep down. she wasn't sure, even, what she was so tired of. Maybe she had exhausted herself by trying to do something that was never going to end well. Jane never planned on giving up on Shane, but she thought that this might be what it felt like, to completely give up on someone after wasting the last few years of your life trying to keep them alive. It made her want to go back to her room, curl up in a ball and cry forever. which way to something better? tagged otpotp words 513 outfit here notes dfioasdfjio credits irisheyes of C.20

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[SHANE DEVAN ROSS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]525 WORDS FOR Jane/Becca omg this is awful SHANE [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;] One of the more frustrating things about this depression issue was that there was no way to come out of it feeling okay. Either Shane didn’t get to hurt himself and he’d end up feeling angry and repressed for who knows how long, or he would and he’d feel guilty for doing it. It was an awful decision and he just wanted his brain to work right so he wouldn’t have to make it. But he was always better at dealing with the guilt. Shane wanted her to leave so badly. Why had he asked her to come in the first place? He hadn’t been thinking. Maybe he was hoping that her being here could distract him from the fact that he had again lost the will to go on, but she was just sitting there, being a pretty poor distraction. They should talk about something else, because depression was a damn depressing subject. That being said, they weren’t really saying much of anything, which Jane pointed out so eloquently as she told him that he was being talkative. Sarcasm didn’t really get communicated well through sign language, but Shane knew her well enough to get her meaning. It wasn’t difficult in this instance, of course, but other times he wouldn’t understand what was trying to be said if it had been anyone else. He missed the days when she had talked. It felt like ages ago. Everything was so much simpler then. She had her father and her voice and he hadn’t had depression then. Sometimes it was that version of himself that appeared when his power started acting up. He envied the innocence and ease of that life, and he hated the knowledge that he couldn’t have that back. No matter what he did, Jane would never see her father alive again, and for that reason she would probably never start speaking again. His depression was never going to go away. The both of them were going to be miserable until something changed. He couldn’t really see the change being anything but death. And it was miserable, living with dying as a goal. It made him wonder why he didn’t just keep trying. Attempt suicide every night until it finally worked. No one could be too particularly upset, since they’d all seen it coming for so long. Anyone who believed that he could get through this were fooling themselves. Even his thoughts were hypocritical. ”I don’t have anything to say,”

[/color] he told her in response to her talkative comment. ”How was your day or something?”[/color]

It was probably frustrating for her to always have to run the conversation, especially since she had to sign everything, but the only things that ran around his mind were things that he couldn’t say to her. She’d just worry more about him if he talked about nostalgia or suicide or anything like that. And maybe it wasn’t fair that she had to bring up something to talk about, but it was worse for him to bring up things that would just be painful for everyone.

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TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

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