I GOT YOU .

[Agatha LeBreun]

Hey did you hear about the one

that got away?

She was late, she was late, she was late.

Again.

Oh dear, she knew how bad it sounded, and probably looked too, except that she didn’t really give a rat’s tail about it. It was Wednesday, the day of her appointment with Luke, and to say that she wasn’t exactly thrilled about it would be the biggest understatement ever. Because, see, Agatha didn’t want to go. As a matter of fact, she wouldn’t even bother showing her short self there if it weren’t for some stupid legal bonding ties that she’d created and accepted when she signed a contract. What had seemed like a very intelligent and official move from her part that fateful day had come to bite her in the rear. Very painfully. Of course, as soon as she’d gotten home after dropping off Fredo, she’d proceeded to read verrrry carefully said contract, including the fine print, and to say she was doomed was exactly correct. Because, see, she was doomed. Very, very much so. It seemed that Luke had a right to her until he found that exact shoot he was looking for. And Agatha didn’t care how wrong the whole ‘had a right to her’ thing sounded, because she was focusing on the fact that since Luke was such a sucky photographer, and a sucky person in general, he was never going to have ‘theeee’ perfect shot, and she was doomed to see him as long as he found her entertaining, and why, oh why did she reply to internet ads? Who did that? The extremely lame and dumb? Agatha, please raise your hand. AHHH! She could keep on flailing about it for the rest of her days, but it wouldn’t change the results, would it? That’s what Nona had very logically pointed out when Agatha had resolved to do just that: flail for the rest of her days. As it were, her grandmother was a very logical person, and had proceeded to literally slap some sense into her granddaughter. Okay, so maybe Agatha had been having something akin to a meltdown, but who could blame her? After what she’d been put through, she had a right to melt down, grr.

But she was past that, wasn’t she? She was now fuming because of the new shoot Luke had oh, so cordially invited her to this Wednesday—meaning, today. About like, oh, say, an hour ago? She didn’t care. Never mind that it went against her nature and her responsibilities, and what Nona had said (because her Nona was a very punctual woman, despite her other crazy tendencies), Agatha didn’t care. Because Luke didn’t deserve any of it. He was just a Backstreet Boys’ quoting loser who wanted to make her life a living hell, just like his life probably was already. Since he was so miserable, he wanted other people to be as miserable as him. But HA! Agatha was not going to give him that pleasure, because she was a woman in her own rights, and she was fierce, and independent. She was moving out this fall! Wasn’t that amazing? Never mind that she was still apartment hunting, but the intention was there, and when Agatha proposed or planned something, it happened, because she put effort into it, and thought things through, and she had mad skillz, darn it! Yeah, she had to breathe. She was getting wound up over nothing. She needed to chill, that’s what. Which was what she’d been doing a couple of minutes ago before she’d clambered unto her Vespa. She’d been blogging, web-surfing to see what was up with the apartment rentals in Wherever, New York, and plain shooting the breeze. She wasn’t good at it, but hey, the fact that she’d tried and clung to it spoke volumes of how much she did not want to talk or see Luke. Then again, maybe Fredo would be there. Agatha had forgotten to ask Luke about him on their late IM session the other day. But she hoped to whoever heard that he be there. Otherwise, mass murder was going to occur. She was so going to get on a rampage that she wasn’t going to limit herself to killing Luke, oh no. She was going to destroy him. Obliterate him. Make it so that nobody ever remembered he existed. He didn’t deserve it, anyway.

Okay, she was probably taking it a bit too far. She wasn’t going to defend him, but he probably was nicer to people he liked, yeah? Besides, she’d been so uncomfortable, and so focused on said discomfort that she hadn’t cared for much else during the shoot. Maybe she’d been a little too selfish? The guy had been working with a massive hangover, and she hadn’t made it easy for him. But what professional worked with a hangover? It seemed as if the guy didn’t even take himself seriously. That’s how lame it was. Sure, it wasn’t unheard of that ‘professionals’ were hard party-goers and had to make up some really exotic mixes to cure hang overs, but they worked around it. They didn’t let that affect their job. Of course it made them snarkier than normal, but that was okay. Luke hadn’t just been snarky—he’d thrown a full-blown tantrum! That wasn’t professional, and it wasn’t sane. He was probably mentally unstable, anyway. Right. She was done thinking about that. She had to focus on the driving, anyway. She still had some ways to go, considering she’d crashed at Nona’s place instead of her own, and Astoria was considerably farther away from Brooklyn. At least via her Vespa it was. Or maybe she was just being pessimistic. Ugh, who cared. She needed to get there. She wanted to piss Luke off, but not that much as in “I will hate you for eternity” much. Although he probably did. Uh, now she was speeding. Great, she had to focus, otherwise she would end up with a ticket, or who knew what else. She needed to be her typical, relaxed self. This could end up in tragedy for anyone! Shaking her head, she put on her blinker as she waited for the light to turn green. She was going to go through a very popular place. Well, she was on a college section now, which meant a lot of people, so she had to weave through them. At least she had that advantage over cars. She could take some very awesome shortcuts, and maybe save herself some of the trouble of having to deal with Luke’s temper. In all honesty, she had no idea what would happen if things got halfway out of hand. Last time she’d stormed out of there, but there hadn’t been any sharp, tempting objects to throw at his haggard face—who knew this time around? Speeding, again, but this time, she didn’t notice it, because her mind was already flying far away from her. She wasn’t noticing her surroundings like she should, on the lookout for a police cruiser or whatever, since she was driving on a sidewalk, and she was pretty sure that equaled some pretty pricey tickets if she ever got caught. But Agatha LeBreun had other stuff running through her mind. So out of it was she, that she failed to notice that if she kept the course she was currently taking, she was going to run smack dab into this chap that had boxes stacked high in front of him, and therefore couldn’t see the danger Agatha now represented.

It was typical, really, how it all happened. One moment she was mentally hexing Luke, and the next there was a loud crash, boxes everywhere, and her Vespa had stalled. She wouldn’t have even noticed the impact had it not been for the abrupt halt and the stalling of her vehicle. Then, of course, there was the cursing. Obviously, it didn’t come from her, but from the other college students around her, who’d witnessed the event. Blinking owlishly at the scene in front of her, it took Agatha a couple of minutes to register what had gone down, and when it did, she let out a shrill scream and clambered out of her Vespa, that, surprisingly, had remained right side up. “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed as she got off and crouched beside the fallen person. “I’m so sorry! I totally didn’t see you!” Well, um, duh. That pretty much was obvious, and Agatha had to chuckle as she realized what she’d just said. Probably not the best way to start off your introduction, but hey, she’d already run the guy over, how worse could it be? Oh wait, he could be hurt, and he could sue her, just like Luke would if she didn’t show up and—oh shiz. “Listen, are you okay? ‘Cause I need to know. If you’re hurt, we need to call an ambulance, or something. I could take you to the hospital. But if you aren’t, I kind of have an appointment to make? Which I’m late for, already, so…” she trailed off. Hm, she definitely was not making the best of impressions.

D E M E T R I

[Demetri Prince]

_{THIS IS A LESSON IN PROCRASTINATION}

( I kill myself because I'm so frustrated

[/b][/size] )
e v e r y • s i n g l e • s e c o n d • t h a t • I • p u t • i t • o f f • m e a n s
^{another lonely night I've got to race the clock}[/i][/center][/font]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

College was supposed to be some of the best years of your life. That was what everyone claimed, anyway. They all raved about how the parties were the best, and the women, and the social life. And the best part? The fact that you were away from your parents so you didn't have to worry about them ragging on you for coming home late completely plastered or whatever. It was complete and utter F-R-E-E-D-O-M. Of course, Demetri already knew a thing or two about freedom since he hadn't exactly been tied down by his parents when it came to his actions - it helped that his mother was a bit of a pushover and even though she had told him time and time again that she didn't approve of his partying she had made no real move to stop him; his stepfather liked to make them happy, he barely got to see his real father as it is (and honestly, now that he was eighteen years old - AKA an adult, by age terms anyway since his mentality was a little questionable -, he wasn't going to be seeing him any more than necessary if he could help it) and since the whole Demetri-getting-drunk-off-his-a** pissed off his father, it was simply more incentive to do it. He wasn't even going to consider his step mother since she can go bang her head against the wall for all he cared. Not to mention she probably didn't give a damn about what he did anyway. The one person, perhaps, that he might feel the least bit ashamed about his habits when he considered her was his sister. He disliked upsetting her period, but to be setting such a bad example? That killed him. Luckily, she was too young to understand what he was doing, so he really had nothing to worry about. Or so he hoped. But back to the point - the fact that college meant complete and utter freedom. He was moving into the dormitories - even though they could afford for him to get his own apartment, Demetri didn't like the responsibilities that came along with it, not to mention he couldn't cook worth anything and would have had to rely on outside resources. And as much as he loved junk food, the thought of consuming a large amount of grease every day still made his stomach queasy. Not to mention, being an athlete and all, he had to at least try to eat healthy food.

Bad thing about college? The moving part. For the past month his mother had been fluttering around his room, telling him what to take, laying out clothes, bringing boxes up to his room and forcing him to pack his things and then when he started to, at random intervals she would start tearing up, and then the sniffles would come and she'd wail about how he was all grown up and how he was leaving her and he'd have to drop whatever he was doing and try to comfort her because, hey, he might be a jerk but it was his mother and even though he had to fight back laughter he managed to keep on a straight - and even slightly concerned - expression. Which had taken a heroic effort, especially since his mother was quite the oversensitive Drama Queen, so he'd had to sit there on his bed, surrounded by boxes, while his mother tearfully made him promise to call her every day - he had complained about that and after a mini-argument in while she claimed he "obviously did not care one bit for his mother and simply wanted to leave her and forget he even had a family" - which was complete and utter bull, of course, but he had tactfully managed to keep that comment to himself - he had managed to convince her that once a week was more than enough - with the condition that he send her a text message every other day. He had a feeling the texts and phone calls would be a lot more than those agreed upon, which meant he might have to switch off his cell phone at times and use the excuse 'oh it ran out of battery and I forgot to charge it'. She'd fall for it; his mother was gullible like that. Which, you know, made him feel bad. Except not really. Because honestly, he didn't want his mother calling him every. single. day to check on her little 'monkey'. He was pretty sure he'd die of embarrassment if she called him Monkey with anyone in the vicinity. No, seriously. It just couldn't happen. Sure-fire way to be emasculated? Your mother's nicknames. And Demetri hated feeling unmanned so yeah. Ran-out-of-battery excuse it was!

Of course, once the boxes were all packed, they had to be moved. Being one who was blessed the upper body strength thanks to the sports he plays, Demetri had no problem with that part. Except for the fact that, no matter how much strength you have, it was still tiring. And trying to walk straight when you're carrying a pile of boxes that are basically obscuring your view? Practically impossible. Of course, David hadn't been willing to help, his other friends were too busy so basically, he was on his own. He should have known nothing good could have come from this. He should have known that trying to carry three boxes on top of each other at once was not a show of how strong he was - it was a show of how stupid he was, because he could barely see in front of him, let alone be able to tell the general direction in which he was headed unless he stretched his neck out as far as it could go at an awkward angle and squint his eyes in an attempt to see around the boxes in his arms. So really, it was his own damn fault if something were to happen to him. His conscious knew that, since common sense dictated it. Of course, one didn't often think of simple logic during certain situations. Because when you get run over, the last thing on your mind is common sense, mostly because your mind is too busy going between "What the hell just happened?" and "Ow that really hurt." Or something along those lines. At least, those were the two main general thoughts that ran through Demetri's mind when it happened. He didn't even see it coming - refer to aforementioned stupidity in which he decided to carry more than he could handle. One moment he was walking - well, sort of, it was an almost waddle he supposed since it was difficult to balance the boxes and walk at a brisk pace - in the general direction of his college from his truck and then the next BAM. He was on the floor with his precious boxes on the ground, his precious books and trophies and other knickknacks around him. He was too busy about the fact that his things were strewn all over the place, namely because he'd just smacked the side of his head against the ground and his side burned like hell from where he'd landed on it and what the hell had happened?

Groaning, he rolled over onto his back, trying to assess the damage as a string of curses flew from his lips. Years of practice during mock-football games and playful wrestling with his friends had taught him to figure out whether anything was broken or not. Well, he could feel everything, and the pain wasn't substantial, which meant he wasn't broken, just bruised. His head hurt like hell though, and he felt a little dizzy. Awesome, first day here and he probably had a concussion. His mother would throw a fit for sure, and wouldn't that be just lovely to go through? He was too busy trying to assess the damage that he had forgotten that that reason why there was damage to be assessed was that he'd just been run over. Sort-of. But then it clicked when he heard a distinctly female voice exclaim "Oh my gosh!". Of course it would be a girl. He sighed inwardly. It would have been so much easier if it was some idiot male, but a girl? He wouldn't be able to be a jerk and, really, all he wanted to be at the moment was a jerk because even if nothing was broken, it really f*cking hurt. He propped himself up, finally looking at the culprit, his eyebrows flying upwards. Well, she was pretty. Short, but pretty. And -- did she seriously just say that she was about to blow him off because she had an appointment. "You just hit me. With your-" his gaze flickered away from her to her vehicle, and he couldn't help but be a little impressed, "-Vespa there. And you're telling me you're going to leave me lying here just so you can catch an appointment? Wow, New Yorkers sure are friendly," he drawled sarcastically. Okay, so maybe he could be kind-of a jerk. He sat up fully, wincing and grasping his head. Okay, yep, probably got a concussion. And no doubt he'd have a bruise the size of Antartica where he'd landed. And a bump the size of a baseball. Oh, his college years here in New York were starting out wonderfully. He glanced at the girl with a little smirk.

Well, at least she was pretty.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

WORDS! ionno
STATUS! complete
NOTES! lalalala
TAGS! Agatha
INSPIRATION! meh music
TEMPLATE CREDIT! Arro @ Caution 2.0
PICTURE CREDIT! MALIA!

[/color]

[Agatha LeBreun]

They say he looked left

she turned right

If he was really hurt, or if he didn’t get up son, she was so going to jail. When moments ticked by and there was still no sign of life from the guy, Agatha groaned. She was so going to jail. Oh, no, wait a moment. Yeah, he was one of the cursers! Aha, so he was alive. Well, that was a relief. Pushing away some boxes to be able to see him better, she let out a small ‘eep’ when she saw his face. Whoa. Okay. Pausing, she stared for a moment, blinking at random intervals as she took him in. Hey, has someone lost a hottie? She almost called out, looking around and over her shoulder, almost certain that she would see a horrified girl hurrying, carrying two venti lattes in her hand as she saw what had happened to her boyfriend. Or you know, something along those lines. Someone must have lost a hottie. Guys like him didn’t go out on the streets all by their lonesome. They got mobbed by rabid fanatics. Like her. Well, except she wasn’t a fanatic, was she? She could definitely be one, in the future. Honestly? Blue eyes, dark hair? Yep, someone had a hottie to pick up. As no girlfriend was in sight though, the task was going to be left to her. Of course, she’d grown silent as soon as she’d seen his face, and she tried to be as not-weird as possible. Agatha had issues with hot guys ever since that horrid experience during high school, but man, it didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate them properly. You know, he was that kind of guy you whistled at when you saw him walk by on the street and then hid behind your friend in a fit of giggles, because you couldn’t believe you’d done such a thing. Not that Agatha had. Done that, of course. Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes at him. Well, at least he was not bruised enough to stop talking. Witty that one, wasn’t he? Aw, that just made him all that more adorable. Yikes. Okay, Agatha had to watch out, otherwise she’d end up doing some ridiculous things, like sighing and hugging him, or something freaky like that. Seriously, she had no experience with guys like him whatsoever. Well, she had zero experience with guys, period.

“I never said that,” Agatha said as she stomped her foot, already starting to feel stressed from the whole ordeal. This was going to suck. Almost as much as Luke. Eek. “I asked if you were okay, question that, btw, you still haven’t answered,” she said as she crouched beside him, trying to help him sit up. Heavy much? Besides, this time ‘round she was wearing heels, which wasn’t helping her balance much. She sucked at wearing heels, seriously. More often than not, she ended falling flat on her face when she tried walking sassily with them. Agatha was as unsexy as she could ever get in those chunky things, no matter how thick the heel. She always went for the thick heels. Not only did they give everything a very vintage look, but they weren’t half as bad as the stilettos the majority of her friends opted for. Her ankles technically shivered upon remembering what she’d suffered in stilettos, spraining one of them being the least of her injuries and embarrassments. With a small ‘oops’, she ended up on the floor herself, her bum taking the worst of the fall as she fell backward, sitting with a loud ‘thud’. Fabulous. Falling beside hottie did not amount to cool. But oh, when was she ever around hot guys? “Are you okay?” she asked again, this time more softly. Never mind that this little detour was going to throw her whole schedule off-time, she’d just run a person over, hot guy or not. Sighing, she let her legs stretch in front of her and she bit her lip. The Luke issue was still nagging at the back of her mind, but she resolutely pushed it away. Better. This way he could throw a fit because, apparently, she was going to be a no show. Ew. Okay, no, there had to be better ways to solve this. Stupid Agatha, it was all going to be her fault. If she hadn’t postponed her arrival to the shooting location, she wouldn’t have had to speed, and she wouldn’t have had to worry about being a no-show in a legally-binding contract. She wanted to scream, all of a sudden. “Hold on a sec,” she said as she struggled back to her feet, going back to her Vespa, wincing when she saw the huge dent in its front, but pushing it to the back of her mind. She was on a mission now.

Fetching her knapsack, she started to dig through it, on the lookout for the feel of her trust-worthy sidekick. When she found out, she quickly scrolled through her contacts, grateful for Nona’s advice of adding Luke’s number into her agenda—whether to avoid any calls by him, or for emergencies, such as this one. Biting her lip as she heard a first ring, second ring…she breathed a huge sigh of relief when it rang a couple of more times, and Luke failed to answer, directing her to his inbox instead. Snorting at his message, she turned to look at the fallen hottie, just to make sure he was still there—where else would he be, Agatha? Duh!—and then turned around again, presenting him with her back. She was ashamed, okay? Who wouldn’t be?! Plugging her ear with her left hand to cancel out the background noise, she heard the beep and took a deep breath. It was infinitely better to give explanations to a machine instead of Luke himself, that Agatha didn’t know whether to cry with relief or just not do anything. “Hey Luke, it’s Agatha. Duh.” Well, she wasn’t the best at talking over the phone, alright? As a matter of fact, she loathed it. Talking to his inbox didn’t make things any better, even if it did release some of the pressure she’d felt building up inside of her. It was one less thing to worry about. “Um, you didn’t answer, and I guess it’s better you didn’t.” Cue for the nervous chuckle. Gosh, she hated this. “Listen,” she stared with another sigh, still looking over her shoulder from time to time, trying to convince herself that a person such as the one she’d almost run over really existed. “Uhm…I’m not going to be able to make our uh…appointment?” Her voice rose on the last word, this time fully turning around to face the guy, her eyes skittering away before she could even consider about making eye contact.

Uh, no. She was so not going to start crushing on a guy she’d almost killed. That was seriously the last thing she needed right now. “Something unexpected came up,” she rushed all in one breath, trying to get this over as quickly as possible. She was off-schedule, but by clearing up her shoot with Luke, it meant that it would free more time, in order to attend to the guy she’d bruised up back there. Oh, yeah, like that would be a chore. “An accident, actually. A traffic accident.” Why was she saying all of this to him? He didn’t need to know. Of course, it could also serve like, a shield in the future? If he went the suing way, that is. Ugh, her mind was all fuddled up now. What was next? Was she going to admit she had run over someone? Yeah, she could see how that would go. Agatha could totally picture how Luke would mock her via a surprising IM. Not cool. “Anyway, whatever,” she said as she cleared her throat, shuffling her feet and immediately reaching out for her Vespa to steady herself. Squeaking she quickly finished the voice message that was going on for too long now. “Hit me up later so we can re-schedule? Have fun with Fredo. Uh…bye!” she squeaked and snapped her phone shut, breathless. That had been more taxing than strictly necessary. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and marched back to him. “So?” she asked as she placed her hands on her hips. “What’s it gonna be, stranger?”

[Demetri Prince]

_{THIS IS A LESSON IN PROCRASTINATION}

( I kill myself because I'm so frustrated

[/b][/size] )
e v e r y • s i n g l e • s e c o n d • t h a t • I • p u t • i t • o f f • m e a n s
^{another lonely night I've got to race the clock}[/i][/center][/font]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Did she really just say 'BTW'? Maybe she'd follow it up with an 'LOL' soon. Demetri mentally snorted. Okay, this girl? Officially adorable, if a little excitable and dramatic from what he had seen so far. He was glad that he'd at least he'd been run over by someone whom he didn't mind meeting at all. True, it wasn't the most conventional way of meeting someone, but hey he'd take it. He was already considering milking his "injury" for all it was worth to keep her around. Who cares if she had some sort of appointment? She could cancel it, he was sure. And if anyone gave her sh*t about it, he was more than willing to pull the whole hero-act and whatever. Hey, if it impressed her, it was worth it. Although, really, considering the throbbing headache that was starting in his left temple, he probably wouldn't need to milk it all that much. 'Course, he could always play the tough guy act and reassure her that he was fine and everything was okay and it didn't matter that she'd just run him over with her Vespa, but then she'd leave and, well, Demetri didn't want that. Besides, the 'appointment' could be with a boyfriend - because honestly, she was such a pretty little (no pun intended) thing that no doubt someone had snatched her up. And keeping her from her boyfriend would just be an added bonus to the fact that she was already such lovely company. And if she didn't have a boyfriend, all the better. Made flirting with her that much easier. Taken girls seemed to be a lot more stand-off-ish. Although the thrill of stealing someone else's girl was always great, he didn't know just how well he would do with a concussion. It was harder to think straight when there was a jackhammer in your head. Go figure. Running his hand through his hair, he felt for the tell-tale bump and winced when his fingers brushed against it. It was already starting to swell. Oh well. It just meant he wouldn't be able to wear hats for a while, which wasn't much of a loss.

Blue eyes flickered back to her when he heard a small thump and he raised an eyebrow in amusement. Did she just - had she just fallen over? His lips twitched and it was all he could do to keep from bursting out into laughter. Laughing at her was prooobably not a good idea. "Aha. Are you okay?" he asked instead. Blinking rapidly as if to ease the dizziness, he leaned back slowly until he was lying on the ground again, hand behind his head. Sitting up had become too much of a chore. "I'm pretty sure I have a slightly concussion, actually," wincing again because he'd slurred the last few words. And then she was telling him to hold on and he turned his head, watching her get up. Even from his position he could tell she was tiny - five foot one, two maximum. He'd tower over her no problem. It was cute. She was cute. All the more reason to milk this for all it was worth. His ears pricked when she spoke into her phone, catching the name - Luke. Hm. Was that her boyfriend, then? Not wanting to get caught for eavesdropping, Demetri closed his eyes and pretended not to be listening, although he snapped them open again when sleepiness started to take over. He knew more than anyone that sleeping was not a good idea when you were concussed, because then he might never wake up and uhh - that wouldn't be good. His mother would probably have a fit and try to get him to move back home, and plus he'd miss out on time with this pretty little thing. Who was still talking to her boyfriend. He sighed and propped himself up on his elbows again, ignoring the steady throb in his head. What, was her boyfriend some kind of control freak? Did she really need to spend all that time explaining to him why she couldn't make it? Unless it wasn't her boyfriend but her boss or something. That could make sense. Ugh, it didn't matter anyway. He was a bit of an attention wh*re and that voicemail was taking much too long. Impatiently, he looked around and almost groaned again when he saw the state his boxes were in. He'd have to get new boxes to fit his crap in. Great.

When she finally decided to turn back to him, Demetri raised an eyebrow. "Well, first of all, my name's Demetri. Demetri Prince," he smiled his charming smile that had seduced many girls before her. "What's yours, dollface?" He struggled for a moment to sit up completely, frowning a little in annoyance - frustrated that a little bit of concussion would affect him like that. He probably wouldn't be able to get up on his own. How embarrassing was that? He hated asking for help of any kind. He'd always been that way; part of his idea that men shouldn't need help from anyone else and that they should be able to do everything themselves and asking for help would be un-masculine or whatever. Pretty stupid idea to most people, but it was something that had been drilled into him by his father ever since he was younger; one of many things, really. Made him half-wish his mother had divorced their father earlier. And maybe if she had, he wouldn't be the same person he was today. But he liked the person he was today, thank you very much. Even if a lot of people didn't or pretended to. He didn't like much of them anyway so, really, it wasn't like it bothered him much. But whoa he'd really derailed there. Where had he been? Oh yeah. Flirting with the gorgeous chick that had run him over. "Also, I think you should take me somewhere where I can have access to some sort of ice-pack, because my head's starting to swell up, and I'd rather not lie down on the ground like some sort of homeless person. Don't worry though, babe, I'm not gonna press charges," he added jokingly, grinning again to show her that he was, indeed, kidding. Well, not about not pressing charges, but about considering the idea in the first place. He wasn't that much of a jerk. Although, he probably would have considered it if she was an ugly as hell dude or something. But, lucky for her, she wasn't. So she had nothing to worry about.

Sort-of.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

WORDS! ionno
STATUS! complete
NOTES! it's short. ew.
TAGS! Agatha
INSPIRATION! meh music
TEMPLATE CREDIT! Arro @ Caution 2.0
PICTURE CREDIT! MALIA!

[/color]

[Agatha LeBreun]

Meant to be together

but not that night

“A concussion?” Agatha squeaked as she stared at him, horrified. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, she was dead, that’s what she was. Dead meat when her parents found out. The guy was probably gonna sue, and he was gonna sue, and like, he was gonna sue and—great, he was groaning now. That meant pain, right? But of course he had to be in pain. He had a concussion, for gosh’s sake! Resisting the urge of slapping her forehead, she turned to look at him, her brows knitting close together as she stared at him. What to do, what to do? Despite being in girl scout’s while younger, all of the first aid knowledge flew out the window as soon as she’d gotten her badge and—gosh, she wasn’t trained for these kinds of situations! Really. Now they were both going to die. She from a panic attack, and him from a ‘mild concussion’. She could already feel her breath shortening. Unghh, could this get any worse Oh, no, she shouldn’t ask that question. Murphy law was gonna pwn her butt for asking something as lame as that. Of course things could get worse. Things could always get worse. Like him passing out on her for example, if she didn’t do something quick. Eyes widening, she started shaking her hands, flailing them a little bit so that her short, pudgy fingers slapped against each other. Gosh, what was she gonna do? Maybe take deep breaths would be a good step, yeah. Like, actually calm herself for once? That seemed like good, solid reasoning, yeah? “What?” she asked as she started hopping on one foot and then the other, miraculously staying upright. It took her a moment to register he’d asked her an actual question. “Oh, I’m Agatha,” she said mindlessly as her brain still whirred about what she was going to do with this situation. It blew. It blew on so many ways. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. “Wait, why are you introducing yourself?” She paused in her hopping, dropping her hands and tilting her head to the right. “And why do you want to know my name?” Realization dawned on her. “You want to sue me, don’t you?!” she all but shrieked, oblivious to the crowd of spectators they’d attracted. Hah, she knew it. Idiot Hottie was going to sue her. And she’d given her name away just like that! Rawrrr. Wait, why was he an Idiot Hottie? At any rate, it should be Idiot Agatha. She’d been the one to run him over, and she’d been the one to tell him her name. Gah, this was confusing.

Now he was trying to sit up, and really, why wasn’t Agatha helping? The most she could do to lessen the suing damages the better. Crouching again as she tried to help him, she gingerly held out her hands to push his back up in a sitting position, afraid of touching him in any way that would make it worse. Man, those were some awesome muscles, by the way. Coughing as she dropped his hands away from him as quickly as possible, she continued staring until he started talking again and snapped her into action. “Listen, I’m really sorry, okay? Please don’t sue me. I’m not really rich or anything of the sort, and fixing my Vespa up is gonna cost a pretty penny. I’m willing to pay hospital bills for that concussion, but if you sue me, things are gonna get ugly.” For her, probably, because he had all the possibilities of winning. Especially after her parents found out. They were so not going to finance a lawyer. They’d probably excuse it behind how it would ‘teach her a lesson’. Excuse her, but a lesson how?! On how not to run people over?! Yeah, uh, she’d taken that. It was called driver’s ed. Then again…she hadn’t done a good job at it, had she? There was a reason why she didn’t drive a car. She’d gotten her license thanks to her father’s connections and nothing else. It was a miracle she was allowed near anything with wheels, much less own it. So to say Agatha was scared was the one major truth of it all. Nevertheless, she still had Nona…she hoped. “An ice-pack?! Are you kidding me? You need to go to the hospital, come on, I’m taking you,” she said, reaching out to him once again, this time tugging on his arm as she tried, in vain, to help him stand up. Muscles equal weight, apparently. So if his muscle mass was measured by his weight, Demetri sure had a lot of muscles. His comment was reassuring, however, and Agatha visually let out a sigh of relief. “Phew, I was worried about that, not gonna lie,” she said somewhat sheepishly, after succeeding in helping him incorporate to his feet. After the way she’d gone on about it? The least she could do was accept it. Blushing, she let go of his arm before he could ask it back, or something. Now, what to do? Eyeing her Vespa critically, she bit her lip. Sure, two people could fit in there, but would it actually work. As in, would the engine turn on? And even if it did, would she really take him to the hospital?

Being a born New Yorker, Agatha was used to travelling light. She didn’t carry her wallet with her at all times, because she knew just how ugly things could get in a matter of seconds. Having been a victim of purse snatching in the past, she’d taught herself at an early age to not carry heavy amounts of money with herself at all times. Just the minimum for emergencies. Like, fifty bucks if she needed to call a taxi or grab a quick bite. Which, was exactly what she had right now. Well, 40 bucks, give or take a few dollars, considering she had stopped for a soy venti latte on the nearest Starbucks facility the day before, and hadn’t really thought much about it until now. She was not going to cover hospital bills with 40 plus bucks. No way. They would laugh at her face and then proceed to unceremoniously dump them out of the hospital, concussion or not. Face burning in embarrassment just thinking about it, she sighed. “Okay, so maybe not a hospital. I don’t have more than forty bucks on me, and no credit card whatsoever. I overcharged,” she admitted in an embarrassed mutter. Right, he didn’t need to know that, Agatha, she chided herself. Walking the few steps to her Vespa, she tried starting it up, but pouted when it just sputtered out pathetically. Sighing and letting her breath ruffle her bangs, she shook her head. “Okay then, seems like no Vespa road trip,” she said sarcastically before going through her knapsack again, pulling out her Sidekick for the second time. There was no way she was calling her parents before strictly necessary, so she had no other option left: Nona Time! Almost giggling, she pressed number one and it immediately speed-dialed to her favorite grandmother. Well, her only grandmother at that. Which, you know, was okay, because there was only room for one Nona in Agatha’s life. Quickly having a conversation where she informed her of everything that had gone down, she nodded, made some quick farewells and hung up before she dialed for a taxi. “I’m calling a taxi,” she informed him uselessly, nodding her head to herself before she started giving directions to their location. It was always a relief to talk to Nona. She always knew what to do, even in the direst of situations. Agatha felt better just by talking to her.

She even knew what to do now! She was going to take Idiot Hottie—wait, no, Demetri—to Nona’s house, where they would both proceed to spoil him rotten. That had nothing to do with the fact that she was developing a monumental crush on him on the spot, nope. She was just trying to show her kindness to strangers, that was it. After calling for a taxi, she started snapping pictures of her Vespa and the strewn boxes. Evidence. For what? She had no idea, but hey, Agatha had always seen people doing that after a car wreck, so why should this be any different? Nevermind that she drove a Vespa instead of an actual car, but it was still something with wheels, right? “Hey, would you mind if I took a picture of you? Just collecting some…uh, mementos,” she called out stupidly. Truth be told, she was only looking for an excuse to have him on her mobile memory. Maybe even use it as a wallpaper or something. Ha-ha, look at that, she was pathetic. “Don’t worry, the cab will be here any time soon. I’m gonna take you to Nona’s place, and you’ll love it there. She’s amazing, and she’ll cure your concussion. You’ll be up and going in no time,” she rambled on in what she thought was an reassuring tone. Oh gosh, she had to shut up.

[Demetri Prince]

_{THIS IS A LESSON IN PROCRASTINATION}

( I kill myself because I'm so frustrated

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e v e r y • s i n g l e • s e c o n d • t h a t • I • p u t • i t • o f f • m e a n s
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She was freaking out, quite badly too. It was cute, he decided. He couldn't remember the last time a girl had genuinely freaked out over him -- well, out of worry. The last couple had mainly been bitching at him for being such a jerk. But whatever. This girl's freaking out? Absolutely adorable. Even if she was overreacting. Because honestly a concussion wasn't going to kill him. Put him into a coma if he slept, sure. But kill him? Nah, he didn't think it would go that far. Could it? He'd never heard someone getting killed because of a concussion. Ugh, who cared? All he needed was some bed rest preferable with this very gorgeous, if a little dramatic, young woman (he hoped she was a young woman, she looked around his age, couldn't be younger than eighteen right? Eh, who cared, he was only eighteen himself, it wasn't that illegal if she was younger) next to him - ensuring that he would stay away of course, nothing more than that - and he would be totally fine. He grinned when she finally paid him enough attention to tell him her name. Agatha? He couldn't decide if it was befitting. The name Agatha always reminded him of an old lady. Or that woman from those books, Agatha Christie or something. He was pretty sure she was an old woman, too, which just proved his point. And yet, for some reason, it did fit her. Or maybe it was just his concussion talking. Entirely possible. When she proceeded to freak out again, this time about his suing her, Demetri had to laugh. She was adorable. He wasn't used to adorable girls. At least, not here. Most girls were completely bitches or prudes or ice queens or sl*ts. Then again, maybe that was just his luck. "Relax, sweetheart. I'm not going to sue you," he tried to reassure her, glancing around casually and making a 'move along' motion with his hand in the direction of the stragglers who were starting to stare. He loved making a scene as much as the next person, but he wanted to find a nice comfortable bed and an ice-pack more than making a spectacle at the moment.

What was she saying now? Something about a hospital? No, he didn't need to go to the hospital, they'd probably pull out his records and call his mother or something, who'd freak out and want to bring him back home. Ugh, he hated being a mamma's boy, it got really annoying sometimes. "No, no, I don't need to go to the hospital," he insisted. "And I'm really not going to sue me, even if you don't take me to the hospital. Seriously, relax." And then she was finally relaxing somewhat. Which was a little disappointing, seeing as the flush in her cheeks was starting to abate and he'd rather liked her fussing over him. Her voice had become a little shrill when she'd squeaked, so maybe it was for the best that she had calmed down. Demetri placed his hands against his back, rubbing gently as best as he could. That would probably bruise tomorrow, too. Seriously, if Agatha hadn't been so damn gorgeous - or had been a guy - he might have seriously considered suing. As it were, she was pretty, and he was attracted to her and might end up asking her out if things went well, and he didn't think the whole suing thing would sit too well with her. Not to mention, was he even old enough to sue? Could you sue when you were eighteen without some sort of parental supervision or whatever? Technically he was an adult. Unless the age was twenty-one. Ugh, too many thoughts for his head. It didn't matter anyway, since he wasn't suing her. "Really? You were worried? I couldn't tell," he said jokingly, smiling to show that he was just teasing her. She was a keeper, this one. He'd want her around for sure, even if it was just as friends. She might be a tad too adorable for his tastes, after all. And short, he noted now that he was fully straightened up. He must be about a foot taller than her, if not more. It was almost comical. But that was just his personal taste talking, really. He did have a soft spot for brunettes, after all.

Vaguely listening her try to start the Vespa, Demetri surveyed the strewn books around him. He wasn't sure how comfortable he was, leaving all his stuff out there. But the thought of carrying everything back to his truck was out of the question. He supposed he'd just have to come back for them. If they would even still be there by the time he got back, which was improbable. It wasn't like New York was the safest place around. Oh well, none of this crap was important anyway. It was all replaceable, he decided after another long look at the objects. Which was just as well, now he could go wherever he wanted with Agatha without needed to worry about having lost anything valuable. Although, from the spluttering sound of the Vespa, it looked like they weren't going anywhere anytime soon. He was glad she'd decided against the hospital, at least. He supposed he could have offered to pay for his own bill, but he really didn't want to go to the hospital. He hated them in general. Too clean and...sterile. Besides, it wasn't like it was a serious concussion. He was still capable of thinking and regular movements. His head was just throbbing a little, and his back hurt too, but that was pretty much it. Your typical sports injury, really. "All right," he replied when she informed him she was calling a taxi, folding his arms and locking his knees together to stop his body from swaying on the spot. He hoped the taxi would come soon. Standing up hadn't been that great of an idea, but he didn't want to sit down again and risk not being able to get up without Agatha's help again. He wasn't stupid, he knew how heavy he was - all muscle though, thank you very much. He focused instead on the short brunette, watching her snap pictures with no small amount of amusement. Was she taking pictures as evidence? He had to bite his lip to stop from laughing out loud, knowing she probably wouldn't appreciate being laughed at. Could she get any more adorable?

She could, apparently. His eyebrows rose once more when she asked if she could take his picture. "Memento, huh? Sure." A small smirk appeared on his lips and he waited for her to snap the picture, not sure whether he should pose or not. He supposed not? He wasn't that great at picture-taking, anyway. Wasn't very - what was the word? Photogenic? Or that was what he had believed over the years. Oh well, he had a nice enough face that it didn't matter if it came out a little awkward. "I can't wait to meet this Nona," he told her, genuinely enthusiastic. She sounded like one of those old people who coddled and spoiled you, and he could use some coddling and spoiling right now. "Sounds great to me - speak of the devil! There's the cab." He grinned as the taxi came closer and then stopped. Making an exaggerated gesture, he ignored the throbbing in his head in an attempt to smile at her disarmingly. "Ladies first." Yes, he could be charming even when he was concussed.

Kind-of.

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WORDS! ionno
STATUS! complete
NOTES! it's short AND late. urgh. ILY ALVA
TAGS! Agatha
INSPIRATION! meh music
TEMPLATE CREDIT! Arro @ Caution 2.0
PICTURE CREDIT! MALIA!

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