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Post by Brin Ferrer on Oct 22, 2008 3:37:13 GMT -5
"It's hot in here."
As if that explained everything.
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Post by Aldrick J. Montag on Oct 22, 2008 3:38:27 GMT -5
"Sure it is."
He rolled his eyes again. Why did he even bother talking to him? He continued writing in his neat way.
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Post by Brin Ferrer on Oct 22, 2008 3:40:05 GMT -5
He reached up and grabbed his pillow, hugging it to his chest. It felt good on his bare arms.
"What are you writing?"
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Post by Aldrick J. Montag on Oct 22, 2008 3:40:59 GMT -5
"Words."
He rather enjoyed his tone. Generally it was rather rude. Rude or bored.
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Post by Brin Ferrer on Oct 22, 2008 3:43:18 GMT -5
Brin was used to it.
"To who, your girlfriend?"
He snorted to himself. Girlfriend? Yeah right.
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Post by Aldrick J. Montag on Oct 22, 2008 3:44:15 GMT -5
"Sure. Let us go with that, shall we?"
He rolled his eyes again. Something he could do. Lack of drug impairment.
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Post by Brin Ferrer on Oct 22, 2008 3:46:39 GMT -5
Another thumbs up. He knew his grumpy roommate wasn't writing to any girlfriend. Chances are he was writing to his mom. He was always writing to his mom.
"I think I'm going to throw up."
Not right this second but he could feel it coming on pretty quick.
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Post by Aldrick J. Montag on Oct 22, 2008 3:49:30 GMT -5
"Not in here."
That was far from a request. If he threw up in there he was waking up dead.
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Post by Brin Ferrer on Oct 22, 2008 3:51:29 GMT -5
"Fuck you."
He sounded even more miserable than before as he started shakily pushing himself up into a sitting position. He had to get down to the bathroom soon.
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Post by Aldrick J. Montag on Oct 22, 2008 3:53:02 GMT -5
"No. And not in here."
He glared at his roommate. This was one of the things about him he disliked. Really on of the only reasons he would as for a change. He hated the sickness. It disgusted him.
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Post by Brin Ferrer on Oct 22, 2008 3:58:55 GMT -5
It was only once in a while. Every few months, maybe, but Aldrick was right, it was bad when it happened.
Okay, he was not okay anymore.
Pushing up from the bed, Brin ran out of the room and down the hallway to go spend the next twenty minutes or so on the bathroom floor. Wether he came back or not depended on if he fell asleep while he was in there.
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Post by Aldrick J. Montag on Oct 22, 2008 4:01:52 GMT -5
And here was where he stopped caring. When Brin ran out of the room. As long as he didn't vomit on or around Aldrick he didn't care. There was a lot he didn't care about.
As long as he got to his classes, and got his letters to and from his mom, he was fine. Nothing else mattered. Not even his druggie roommate.
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