c o n c e r n e d
/kənˈsəːnd/
adjective
worried, troubled, or anxious
r e l a t i v e
/ˈrɛlətɪv/
noun
plural noun: relatives
1. a person connected by blood or marriage.
/kan (ə)v wəːms/
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Bjorn
- Registered User
- Posts: 551
- Joined: 05 Jan 2016, 21:52
- CrowNet Handle: P Parker
/kan (ə)v wəːms/
-
Bjorn
- Registered User
- Posts: 551
- Joined: 05 Jan 2016, 21:52
- CrowNet Handle: P Parker
Re: /kan (ə)v wəːms/
BACKDATED SPRING 2016
Wallach Hall
New York, NY
New York, NY
“So, what? He dropped out?”
Peter shifted uncomfortably where he sat, kneading at his hand with whitened knuckles. It was the third time he’d been confronted about his roommate’s unexplained disappearance, and he’d exhausted all excuses. If he looked ready to throw up, it was because he could’ve had he eaten anything. It’d been days since he’d last had a proper meal, though even if he’d had, he wouldn’t remember it. Drugs were becoming the only way he could qualm his anxiety.
“Pete…”
“Yeah, sorry, no, I have no idea. I told you last time, man, he stayed behind.”
“Didn’t tell you why though?”
Peter shook his head, then looked away as a knuckle cracked painfully under the unnatural pull and twist. It took commendable effort to stop fidgeting, which he managed to do for no more than a few seconds. There was something about the pain, how it took the edge off the discomfort. His mind was elsewhere, brow furrowed.
“Dude, what the hell’s going on? Seriously, you’re wigging me out. Where the ****’s Poodle?”
“I told you, man, he ******* stayed in Canada, alright? He didn’t tell us why, he just ******* stayed.”
James Schneider was not close enough a friend to catch onto Peter’s tell. When nervous, lying, or downright guilty, Peter would resort to excessive swearing. The borderline compulsive wringing of hands wasn’t hard to miss though. It didn’t take a psychology degree to notice something was way off.
“Pete, did something happen to him?”
“No!” Too eager, too quick.
Slouching, the redhead shook his head. “No, he didn’t-- listen, nothing ******* happened, alright? We went up there for a good time, and then he ******* decided to stay, alright? He just ******* stayed.”
“Just like that, a semester short of graduating, and with early acceptance to post-grad…”
“I don't ******* know his mind.”
“You were his roommate for four years, come on. Did he get into trouble or something?”
It wasn’t as if Bjørn had a particularly clean slate. He managed to keep his record pristine. He was one of those annoying smart kids who seemed predisposed to succeed without ever picking up a book. Outside of class and off campus though, he was known for getting too involved. In fact, their group in its entirety seemed likely to step on the wrong toes one day. Perhaps they had, across the border.
“I told you already, I don’t ******* know, okay? I don’t think so, but I don’t know.”
James rubbed at his face, then raked both hands through his hair. The office chair creaked as he leaned back, elbows pointing outwards. He pressed his nails into his scalp and let out a lengthy breath, then dropped his arms to his sides.
“I’m going to have to report this, you know? It's been over month.”
He’d been trying to figure it out. It wasn’t in his nature to throw anyone under the bus, but he was growing tired of the non-answers. The end of the semester was fast approaching, and it’d been nearly two months since he’d last seen Bjørn. He’d asked everyone, and no one seemed to know anything. More troubling than anything was the fact that there was no trace of him anywhere. Nothing came up on google search, no activity on any social account, and according to everyone he’d asked, no communication of any kind. Short of assuming the guy was dead, the RA was at the end of the rope.
Peter didn’t reply, instead wringing his hands more forcefully.
There was clearly something left unsaid, but James was over trying to figure it out. With finals fast-approaching, this was up to someone else now. He had tried to give them all a chance. He'd tried to put pressure on the closest link, sought to unearth whatever secret was eating away at the guy. It was too obvious not to notice something amiss. Peter had dropped weight, stopped hanging out with the same people, and was hardly going to class. He reeked too.
“Okay. You can go. Just get out of my sight, man…”
Turning towards his desk and reaching for his cellphone, James didn’t watch as Peter made for the door. If he had, maybe he would’ve noticed the hesitation, found a crack he could finally exploit. Instead, he did what he should’ve done weeks ago.
Peter shifted uncomfortably where he sat, kneading at his hand with whitened knuckles. It was the third time he’d been confronted about his roommate’s unexplained disappearance, and he’d exhausted all excuses. If he looked ready to throw up, it was because he could’ve had he eaten anything. It’d been days since he’d last had a proper meal, though even if he’d had, he wouldn’t remember it. Drugs were becoming the only way he could qualm his anxiety.
“Pete…”
“Yeah, sorry, no, I have no idea. I told you last time, man, he stayed behind.”
“Didn’t tell you why though?”
Peter shook his head, then looked away as a knuckle cracked painfully under the unnatural pull and twist. It took commendable effort to stop fidgeting, which he managed to do for no more than a few seconds. There was something about the pain, how it took the edge off the discomfort. His mind was elsewhere, brow furrowed.
“Dude, what the hell’s going on? Seriously, you’re wigging me out. Where the ****’s Poodle?”
“I told you, man, he ******* stayed in Canada, alright? He didn’t tell us why, he just ******* stayed.”
James Schneider was not close enough a friend to catch onto Peter’s tell. When nervous, lying, or downright guilty, Peter would resort to excessive swearing. The borderline compulsive wringing of hands wasn’t hard to miss though. It didn’t take a psychology degree to notice something was way off.
“Pete, did something happen to him?”
“No!” Too eager, too quick.
Slouching, the redhead shook his head. “No, he didn’t-- listen, nothing ******* happened, alright? We went up there for a good time, and then he ******* decided to stay, alright? He just ******* stayed.”
“Just like that, a semester short of graduating, and with early acceptance to post-grad…”
“I don't ******* know his mind.”
“You were his roommate for four years, come on. Did he get into trouble or something?”
It wasn’t as if Bjørn had a particularly clean slate. He managed to keep his record pristine. He was one of those annoying smart kids who seemed predisposed to succeed without ever picking up a book. Outside of class and off campus though, he was known for getting too involved. In fact, their group in its entirety seemed likely to step on the wrong toes one day. Perhaps they had, across the border.
“I told you already, I don’t ******* know, okay? I don’t think so, but I don’t know.”
James rubbed at his face, then raked both hands through his hair. The office chair creaked as he leaned back, elbows pointing outwards. He pressed his nails into his scalp and let out a lengthy breath, then dropped his arms to his sides.
“I’m going to have to report this, you know? It's been over month.”
He’d been trying to figure it out. It wasn’t in his nature to throw anyone under the bus, but he was growing tired of the non-answers. The end of the semester was fast approaching, and it’d been nearly two months since he’d last seen Bjørn. He’d asked everyone, and no one seemed to know anything. More troubling than anything was the fact that there was no trace of him anywhere. Nothing came up on google search, no activity on any social account, and according to everyone he’d asked, no communication of any kind. Short of assuming the guy was dead, the RA was at the end of the rope.
Peter didn’t reply, instead wringing his hands more forcefully.
There was clearly something left unsaid, but James was over trying to figure it out. With finals fast-approaching, this was up to someone else now. He had tried to give them all a chance. He'd tried to put pressure on the closest link, sought to unearth whatever secret was eating away at the guy. It was too obvious not to notice something amiss. Peter had dropped weight, stopped hanging out with the same people, and was hardly going to class. He reeked too.
“Okay. You can go. Just get out of my sight, man…”
Turning towards his desk and reaching for his cellphone, James didn’t watch as Peter made for the door. If he had, maybe he would’ve noticed the hesitation, found a crack he could finally exploit. Instead, he did what he should’ve done weeks ago.