One After Another

The Library was dark because of the overcast skies blocking out the light from entering through the large windows. That was okay, Marka thought. He liked the gloomy days better than the bright and cheerful ones. The stormy weather always seemed to energize him more than the sunshine and it always struck everyone around him as a bit odd, but he didn't see the problem. He was watching the rain hit the window from the tables where he had several books scattered out in front of him. He hated school work and he was never good at it. His best friend, a college student, bailed on him so the only real entertainment left was the actual report. It fried him because he was 18 and only just entering high school. He was smart, but apparently not smart enough.

Nonetheless, he was bound to do the work. If he tried hard enough he could be in the top of his class, in both age and grade, he scowled. Damn the school and damn his transfers. He struggled to fit into his class, but his age group was slipping away from him as they prepared for graduation. There were only two other students in the whole school even close to his age and not graduating. What a wonderful group to be part of.

"Man...This sucks..." He muttered putting his dead down on the table and listening to the sounds of quite whispering and rain and every other damn thing. Why did it always seem like time was moving at a snail's pace? Bad enough his friend was suspicious of his true sexual orientation, now he had to fend off the crazy batshit insane librarian who suspected him of secretly being a woman. What next? Dear god....what?

He tossed his head back, his black hair moved away from his cobalt eyes before it fell back in place. He seemed to have a ready smile, still; he was one who had a quick temper. He strode down the hallway; his emerald sweater pulled taunt over his body as he ducked into the library and blew a kiss to the librarian who grew a bit flustered under the rather eccentric gaze of the man that suddenly stood in front of him. “Hello.” He purred as he leaned over and as he neared the other man he snagged the set of keys that were near him then saluted sharply. “I relieve you of your duties…now get.” He commanded his voice going from teasing and light to commanding and dominating.

He moved around and closed a book that had been left on the table before he opened it and hurriedly scrawled his name in the back. Alecuian Silven. He walked around his library and he was only the substitute. In fact, Alecuian was a bit of a nomad, at least when it came to jobs. He never fully settled on what he wanted to be. He was able to practice medicine, which was his first job, yet now, at least for that day he was a librarian and the next day? He’d probably go back to practicing medicine. That was what he was good at, yet a person could only see so much death, so much dying and pain before their mind started to splinter.
And Alecuian was every bit insane when he had the need to be.

So this was his vacation, a one day vacation. He looked around the empty library, deciding that it was much too quiet, much too…tedious. He saw only one person in the library and moved over, pulled out a chair and crashed done in it before he reclined back. “How are you doing doll?” He asked softly, making sure that his tone stayed low so not to disrupt the cryptic silence of the library too much. He sat forward then, it seemed like some part of him was always moving, and he was fluid in his movement, graceful yet at the same time wholly dangerous and unpredictable. Yet his smile was open and friendly, completely trusting with only the barest hint of sadness in his blue eyes.

Marka blinked up at him. In the middle of a thought process, suddenly there was a person sitting across from him. It took his mind several minutes to collect itself to actually respond. But then...he didn't really know how to respond to that. At first he wanted to smack the man for being too callous and talking to him like he was an object, yet at the same time...at least he was much more pleasant than the previous Librarian.

"I'm not a doll...and I'm not a girl if you thought that on first glance." He replied. He looked back to his blank paper and made a sad attempt to disguise himself for someone who actually studied. Though it was painfully clear that he has no intention of doing that as long as there was this new person before him.

He looked up again. "Have I done something wrong?" It was usually do to his self suspicious mind he would even think he was at fault for something, but most of the time in the past it had been deemed true. After all, he wasn't used to any form of attention that wasn't bad. "I'll leave if that's the case."

The ebony haired man looked taken a back for all of one moment before he threw his head back and laughed. “Forgive me then.” He said as he fought to control his laughter, “I merely called you doll because you remind me of Harlequin, the sad eyed doll.” He explained, before he sobered, his emotions changing rapidly. He tilted his head back, allowing his blue eyes to take in the boy in front of him while still having his bangs covering his eyes.

“If I can’t tell a boy from a girl then I am in a dire need of a new profession.” He said simply before he stood up and extended his hand, all seriousness, all business. “My name is Alecuian Silvan and I could care less about what you are doing in here as long as you aren’t loud or too annoying. If you were, then I am afraid that I would have to kill you.” Though there was no smile that would have said if that last bit was a mere joke, it seemed as though he meant every word.

The elder man quirked his head to the side before he allowed the mere ghost of a smile to cross his insane features, “if you care to leave, you know where the door is.” He said quietly before he turned around and placed his hands behind his head, interlocking his fingers, showing that the space between every knuckle on both hands had been pierced. “If you need help with your homework…I’ll be up at the front desk. It was nice meeting you Harlequin.” He said before he waved and headed back to aforementioned desk, crashing down in the rather uncomfortable chair. It would seem as if he loved to give nicknames and that could be because he had the hardest time remembering what people’s names really were.

Marka stood quickly and, in a voice not too loud to disturb other, he responded, "My name is not 'Harlequin', its Marka. I would appreciate not being called such things. Dolls are inanimate...they're lifeless. I'm not. I have spirit, even if you don't think I do."

Why it bothered him so much he wasn't sure. Hell, the man had just made a blatant death threat to him over something as trivial as noise, yet...he was more insulted by the way he seemed to think of him as an object or a lifeless creation. At least that was how it seemed to him. He wasn't very good at expressing his emotions, but he wasn't absolutely inhuman. It's hard not to feel dreadful when he was absolutely alone in school and at home.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disrupt you." He sat back down at stared at the paper in front of him angrily. People never made him feel this way without him at least provoking them. But he knew, or at least thought he'd been acting no different than every other time he'd spent hours on end roaming through that miserable little library. "I'll leave." He began to gather his things in as quick a fashion as he could manage. Eighteen years old and still no more graceful and mentally mature than the average fifteen year old. Stupidly enough he only managed to drop his books and papers all over the floor. He cursed under his breath and sighed.

His notebooks were all open, his photos and sketches were all clearly visible and he knew he was going to get kicked out for their content, even though he was already leaving. Sketching and photographing nude male models was not a very public appropriate hobby.

“Dolls are beautiful and most dearly loved by the children that have them, they have a life to the children that take the time to look, they have feelings and they have hope.” Alecuian replied quietly as he stood up in time to see Marka drop his paper to the floor. He walked over to the younger man and knelt down beside him and picked up one of the pictures. “Nice work.” He commented before he handed it to him, “Those are fantastic.” He said genuinely as he handed the rest of his papers and books to Marka. “I don’t see why you have to hide them.”

Alecuian was a bit naïve when it came to school and their rules, after all, he saw naked men, women and children constantly in his line of work and it had gotten to the point in which he no longer cared. “They are good.” He looked up at Marka before he stood up. “Do you ever have people model for you?” He asked, not fully volunteering himself but then before the boy could get the wrong idea he explained: “Artists have a wonderful way of immortalizing their models, to put them down forever, Doctors live only as long as their patients are alive.” He smiled at Marka, trying to reassure him. “I’m sorry…Marka.” He said, using his name, “I will more than likely forget your name if I see you again, so please…don’t take offense if I use a nickname.”

Marka was a little surprised. Most people certainly don't respond to his hobby in a decent way. Most people considered it vile and in most questions, wonder exactly why it is that he focused on the masculine sex. He was a little embarrassed even has the man helped him gather his materials. His face reflected it, but he kept his head down and whispered an apology.

"But..." He said. "Dolls are still objects. Objects that children control and use for their pleasure. I am no such object." He was still bothered by being called a doll. He was always bothered by such things and his own nitpicking annoyed even himself at times.

"I...just...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything." He sighed and placed his folder on the table so he could rearrange them and leave. His dusty blonde hair was now a mess and all in his face and he was just short of temper flair. His bipolar personality made it hard to talk to people in the slight chance that they might say something to upset his irrational mind. He hated himself for it.

"You said you're a doctor..." He trailed, "Then you know about diseases and medical procedures...I'm doing a research project in the medical field...what would be an easy topic?" He asked hesitantly. He was terrible at research. Something easy would ease his frustrations as the project's deadline came closer.

“Do you want to get into an argument with me?” Alecuian asked quietly, though there was still the light air of teasing behind it. “Don’t be ridiculous, I think that you are cute in a rather emotional way.” He looked over Marka’s shoulder wanting to see more of the artwork that the boy seemed afraid to show him. There were times when Alecuian swore that high school was the work of Satan and that it should be banned altogether. He quirked his head to the side, he really did not have the air of a doctor as his hair fell over one shoulder as he thought about the relative easiness of the research paper that Marka had chosen to do.

“It depends really, “He said all business suddenly as he pulled a chair up for Marka and bade him to sit before he sat across from him. “Please sit, I hate standing at attention.” He explained before he pulled out a business card and handed it to the younger man. “That is where I work, as you can see, it is a hospital.” He pointed out as he leaned back. “Give me a call alright? I’ll help you with your research; after all…I’m sure that I could be counted as a source.” He said brightly, almost too brightly. It seemed as though his voice tones were in a constant state of flux. He was beautiful in a distinctly, crazy sort of way as he thought about medical procedures. “Honestly, give me a call.”

He shifted topics then. “You never did answer my questions about models…do you ever use real people?”

Marka frowned and sat in the chair. He clung to his note books and refused to look the doctor in his eye. "I am not cute." He replied curtly. He didn't care how angry he made him. "I just wanted to know a topic I might have an easy time working on, that's all." He felt bitter inside and it wasn't because of the doctor or the research, but to himself for making such a scene and arguing with a man he'd probably never see again.

"Yes...I use real models." Marka replied to his question. One less question to answer, the sooner he could leave. A positive correlation. At least he remembered that much from psychology. "But..." he snorted derisively,” I only use models I've slept with." He stood up and dropped his library books on the table.

He walked a few steps. "I'll keep your number...just in case." He added before continuing to make his way across the long stretch of library toward the door. He had no intention of calling this man.

Alecuian watched the other leave before he looked down at the books that he had left on the table and started to idly thumb through them before he took out a black felt tipped marked and started to destroy different words, he took a ball point pen and started to write down what he thought the books should say. When he was done with that he walked over and casually put the books back where they belonged before he laid himself down at ‘his’ desk and allowed one leg to hang down while the other was braced on the table. He sighed as a smile crossed his face. “Ahhh Marka, every time you deny what I say, don’t you know that I just want to figure you out even more than before?”

He reached up his shirt sleeve and pulled out a piece of paper that he had snagged from Marka, his favorite out of the bunch. Yet it wasn’t the male in the picture that Alecuian kept staring at, it was something else. It was the emotion that Marka captured, there was something in the drawing itself, not the nude man as a whole.

There was something different about Alecuian, something that wasn’t all together the right thing for a doctor to be, something that was a bit…fake, hidden. Perhaps it was the cruelty that was hidden deep in his eyes, or perhaps it was the way that when he lay back on the table and lifted one arm up, there were tattoos covering every inch of his skin that could be covered by clothing. “You’ll see me again; after all…I do have connections.”