Caleb Michaels (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greatamazingfeelingsboy) wrote2019-12-22 06:26 pm
greatamazingfeelingsboy) wrote2019-12-22 06:26 pm
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Dec 22
Candlewood Apartments looms tall and slightly intimidating ahead of him. Michael's said he can use his apartment there, so he doesn't have to try to sleep through the varying emotions in the Children's Home. Caleb had hugged him, hard, when he'd made the offer, and now, he stands on the sidewalk, with all of his belongings stuffed into a hastily bought duffel bag and a couple of boxes he'd rescued from recycling.
It isn't much, but he's not gonna need much for awhile, right?
He can change that when he finally has his own place. He just has to wait five more months.
An hour later, he's more or less sprawled on the bed, feeling the neighbors through the walls. The threads are new and strange, and Caleb's eyes grow unfocused as he stares up at the ceiling. He can feel the differences in the people they're coming from, the different colors and shapes that try to wind their way into his body. It's easier, because there are only two or three within his range, instead of the several people rushing him like at the Home. He breathes out emotions that aren't his, and closes his eyes.
* * *
He wakes up with a gasp, disoriented and empty and surrounded by darkness. He jerks up and nearly falls off the edge of the bed, where he'd sort of rolled, one leg off the mattress, while sleeping. It's quiet, inside and out, and that's when he remembers where he is.
"Fuck," he breathes. He wants to go back to sleep. He wants to stay awake, and enjoy the quiet feeling of his own emotions. Because for the first time since coming here, they're just his.
He fishes his phone out of his pocket, then squints as he lights up the screen to check the time. 2:38 AM. He has school tomorrow — in just a few hours, really — and he'd fallen asleep way earlier than he'd thought he would. He's hungry, thirsty, and has to pee.
And, shit, he might as well take a shower, while he's at it. No point in trying to go back to sleep. He strips his jacket off (how the hell had he slept so long with it on?) and makes his way out to the main room so he can check the freezer and fridge for food. Michael works on his projects here occasionally, so he anticipates finding something.
There's a couple boxes of Hot Pockets in the freezer, so he grabs them and and microwaves both boxes.
While he eats, he checks the messages on his phone. There are a couple from Clint, and even Rosie, after he'd told her the news and promptly, apparently, passed the hell out. He texts them both back, then sets his phone to charge so he can take a shower and finish unpacking his duffel bag.
By the time he's done, it's almost time to go to school, so he makes sure he's got everything he needs before starting his day.
Candlewood Apartments looms tall and slightly intimidating ahead of him. Michael's said he can use his apartment there, so he doesn't have to try to sleep through the varying emotions in the Children's Home. Caleb had hugged him, hard, when he'd made the offer, and now, he stands on the sidewalk, with all of his belongings stuffed into a hastily bought duffel bag and a couple of boxes he'd rescued from recycling.
It isn't much, but he's not gonna need much for awhile, right?
He can change that when he finally has his own place. He just has to wait five more months.
An hour later, he's more or less sprawled on the bed, feeling the neighbors through the walls. The threads are new and strange, and Caleb's eyes grow unfocused as he stares up at the ceiling. He can feel the differences in the people they're coming from, the different colors and shapes that try to wind their way into his body. It's easier, because there are only two or three within his range, instead of the several people rushing him like at the Home. He breathes out emotions that aren't his, and closes his eyes.
He wakes up with a gasp, disoriented and empty and surrounded by darkness. He jerks up and nearly falls off the edge of the bed, where he'd sort of rolled, one leg off the mattress, while sleeping. It's quiet, inside and out, and that's when he remembers where he is.
"Fuck," he breathes. He wants to go back to sleep. He wants to stay awake, and enjoy the quiet feeling of his own emotions. Because for the first time since coming here, they're just his.
He fishes his phone out of his pocket, then squints as he lights up the screen to check the time. 2:38 AM. He has school tomorrow — in just a few hours, really — and he'd fallen asleep way earlier than he'd thought he would. He's hungry, thirsty, and has to pee.
And, shit, he might as well take a shower, while he's at it. No point in trying to go back to sleep. He strips his jacket off (how the hell had he slept so long with it on?) and makes his way out to the main room so he can check the freezer and fridge for food. Michael works on his projects here occasionally, so he anticipates finding something.
There's a couple boxes of Hot Pockets in the freezer, so he grabs them and and microwaves both boxes.
While he eats, he checks the messages on his phone. There are a couple from Clint, and even Rosie, after he'd told her the news and promptly, apparently, passed the hell out. He texts them both back, then sets his phone to charge so he can take a shower and finish unpacking his duffel bag.
By the time he's done, it's almost time to go to school, so he makes sure he's got everything he needs before starting his day.