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fellowshippers2004-03-16 03:10 am
one900.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-03-16 03:10 am
(no subject)
Paranoia
PG-13
OB/EW
Quick random drabble...ficlet...type thing..
*
"I'm depressed," Orlando announced.
"You're depressed," Elijah repeated as he slid into a chair adjacent to the couch where Orlando was sprawled. He ran a hand through his hair repeatedly and grimaced at the oily sensation.
Orlando continued to stare up at the ceiling, eyes tracing invisible patterns into the plaster. "I'm depressed. I don't feel like doing anything."
"Fuck, Orli." Elijah rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That's-- that's not depressed, that's just being lazy."
"It's depressed, I swear."
Elijah ignored Orlando. "And even if it was, what would you have to be depressed about? Depression is just, like, not enough serotonin in your brain. Or low norepinephrine levels, I forgot which one. Anyway, both can be cured by exercising or some shit."
Orlando stared. "Jesus, man. Way to get all scientific on me."
*
He gazed into the mirror. "I think I have ADD."
"I think you're a fucking narcissist," Elijah called. Orlando could see him bustling around the room through the reflection.
"I really do think I have ADD. I can't pay attention to things." Orlando didn't take his eyes off the adversary in the mirror. He absently brushed down an unruly curl and watched as the Orlando clone did the same.
Elijah's reflection came to a stop in the upper right hand corner. "Jesus Orlando, would you stop fucking preening and get packed already? Your shit is all over the place."
Orlando hummed and lightly traced the lines of his goatee with an index finger.
*
"I think I'm bipolar." He heard a moan of frustration beside him. "What, you don't believe me?"
"Being bipolar is---never mind." Elijah flipped a page in his magazine. "God Orli, you're such a fucking baby." Another whip-crack of a page turning.
"What?" Orlando sounded wounded. He rubbed his elbow slowly. "And I think Viggo gave me a bruise."
Elijah looked up with an incredulous expression. "Holy fuck, is this ever gonna stop?"
"I'm just asking for a little pity here," Orlando grumbled, gently pressing his fingers into the protrusions and crevices of various body parts. "My joints are a little sore."
Elijah made an unintelligible growling sound and threw the magazine onto the empty seat beside him.
*
"I think I'm a hypochondriac," Orlando whispered against a pale bare shoulder. He felt Elijah smile against the thin vines of his hair.
"I think you're a fucking headcase."
*
A/N: Blame psychology for this thing; I've been reading over psychological disorders for the past hour. Argh.
PG-13
OB/EW
Quick random drabble...ficlet...type thing..
*
"I'm depressed," Orlando announced.
"You're depressed," Elijah repeated as he slid into a chair adjacent to the couch where Orlando was sprawled. He ran a hand through his hair repeatedly and grimaced at the oily sensation.
Orlando continued to stare up at the ceiling, eyes tracing invisible patterns into the plaster. "I'm depressed. I don't feel like doing anything."
"Fuck, Orli." Elijah rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That's-- that's not depressed, that's just being lazy."
"It's depressed, I swear."
Elijah ignored Orlando. "And even if it was, what would you have to be depressed about? Depression is just, like, not enough serotonin in your brain. Or low norepinephrine levels, I forgot which one. Anyway, both can be cured by exercising or some shit."
Orlando stared. "Jesus, man. Way to get all scientific on me."
*
He gazed into the mirror. "I think I have ADD."
"I think you're a fucking narcissist," Elijah called. Orlando could see him bustling around the room through the reflection.
"I really do think I have ADD. I can't pay attention to things." Orlando didn't take his eyes off the adversary in the mirror. He absently brushed down an unruly curl and watched as the Orlando clone did the same.
Elijah's reflection came to a stop in the upper right hand corner. "Jesus Orlando, would you stop fucking preening and get packed already? Your shit is all over the place."
Orlando hummed and lightly traced the lines of his goatee with an index finger.
*
"I think I'm bipolar." He heard a moan of frustration beside him. "What, you don't believe me?"
"Being bipolar is---never mind." Elijah flipped a page in his magazine. "God Orli, you're such a fucking baby." Another whip-crack of a page turning.
"What?" Orlando sounded wounded. He rubbed his elbow slowly. "And I think Viggo gave me a bruise."
Elijah looked up with an incredulous expression. "Holy fuck, is this ever gonna stop?"
"I'm just asking for a little pity here," Orlando grumbled, gently pressing his fingers into the protrusions and crevices of various body parts. "My joints are a little sore."
Elijah made an unintelligible growling sound and threw the magazine onto the empty seat beside him.
*
"I think I'm a hypochondriac," Orlando whispered against a pale bare shoulder. He felt Elijah smile against the thin vines of his hair.
"I think you're a fucking headcase."
*
A/N: Blame psychology for this thing; I've been reading over psychological disorders for the past hour. Argh.