i do what i want [o]

[ry]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #eeebe3; width: 450px, bTable] [style=background-color: #e0674f; width: 100px; border-right: 4px solid #edd4ca; float: left; padding: 10px; height: 520px; font-family: arial; font-size: 20px; color: #f1efe9; letter-spacing: -1px; ] notes gosh i feel sorry for whoever deals with ringo count 705 tags open~ [/style][style=background-color: #fbfaf8; border-right, border-top, border-bottom: 4px solid #e8e5de; -webkit-border-radius: 2px; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; padding:8px; text-align:justify; color: #6d6d6d; padding: 20px; overflow: auto; text-transform: none; height: 500px; overflow: auto;]"Here again, Oshiro-kun?" "I don't feel good." "You don't feel good a lot these days." "Excuse you? The last time I was here was like, three weeks ago." "What did you have then?" "A headache." "What is it today?" "A stomachache." "Kids usually see me because they're seriously injured from actually doing something, you know. You only come in here for sissy reasons." "What if I faint, like, right now? Just on the ground from the pain in my stomach because you wouldn't let me rest here." The nurse sighed and rubbed his temples before motioning for Ringo to take a bed. "You're outta here if there's someone who really needs the space comes in." The nurse grunted. Ringo, holding his stomach, flashed a smile and walked further into the infirmary, settling with the bed furthest in the corner. He moved the thin curtains back and tugged them closed behind him before sitting on the bed and pulling out his cell phone. "Hm," he lightly hummed looking at the time. He'd be able to skip the more physically demanding classes if he was lucky. It wasn't like Ringo couldn't keep up with the demands of physical training sessions, he just didn't really like to sweat. On regular days then, sure, he'd join the rest of his class through the various, rigorous courses the school was known for making students endure. He wasn't the best student of course, but he made damn sure he looked good doing what he did. More often than not he had found himself claiming to feel unwell simply to avoid ruining his hair because it looked exceptionally good that day, or he just didn't feel like dealing with the gross, after workout feeling he was subjected to most days. Really, was a little break now and then that big of a deal? He had perfectly good, in his mind, excuse for skipping out today too. His mom, while not actually a mainstream designer, had to interview models to showcase her new line at an upcoming fashion show and Ringo was his mother's biggest critic by far. If he didn't like a design of hers, he was honest and told her what to change, and more often than not the finished design ended up a collaboration between the two of them. So of course, if they had to pick models for the clothes, Ringo had to be there. And he had to make sure he looked better than usual in order to show the girls and guys they weren't as pretty as they thought. Maybe if interviews didn't start right after school he'd consider going to class. "Gosh what am I going to wear?" Ringo groaned, slipping off his shoes and flopping onto the bed. "Gotta tell mama to bring something with her..." He flicked through various images on his phone, (why yes, Ringo had almost all of his clothes pictured on his phone for a dilemma such as this,) and muttered to himself reasons why an article of clothing word work or not. Hearing someone enter the infirmary, Ringo pursed his lips and paused to try to listen to whoever had entered. He stayed quiet, listening to their footsteps trying to determine which bed to take, and grinned when he heard the curtains of the bed next to his open and close. He heard rustling and a few squeaks of the bed before a silence. Ringo tapped on the back of his phone as he looked up at the infirmary ceiling, contemplating just when to break the silence between him and his new infirmary roommate. He sat up, clicked through a few more images and cleared his throat, figuring that'd get the attention of the person beside him. "So let's say," he began, "you had a choice between a solid pattern or a check pattern shirt. Which would you choose?" Ringo hummed for a moment. "Or like, do I go with a cashmere sweater or a cotton sweater? Merino wool even, actually!" He moved to pull back his curtain and decided against forcing the other's back as well. "Mind you, this is all from the latest Burberry line so like, it'll all look good on me. Burberry always looks good on me." [/style]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width, 500px][atrb=style,border-top: 10px solid #BFE03A;background-color: #111111;][STYLE=font-size: 50px;font-family: times new roman; color: #eaeaea;text-align: center;letter-spacing: -5px;]{    i'm wide awake[/style][STYLE=background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/BKZBZ.png);-webkit-border-radius: 100px;-moz-border-radius: 100px;border-radius: 100px;height: 100px; width: 100px;float: right;margin: -20px 35px 0px 20px;] [/style][STYLE=float: left; margin: -80px 140px 0px 95px; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 9px; color: #707070;text-align: justify;text-transform: lowercase;line-height: 8px;]I was in the dark I was falling hard With an open heart I'm wide awake How did I read the stars so wrong I'm wide awake And now it's clear to me That everything you see Ain't always what it seems I'm wide awake I was dreaming for so long Falling from cloud nine Crashing from the high I'm letting go tonight I'm Falling from cloud 9 Thunder rumbling Castles crumbling I am trying to hold on God knows that I tried Seeing the bright side I'm wide awake and not blind anymore[/style] [STYLE=margin: 70px 30px 30px 30px; text-align: justify; color: #c4c4c4;font-size: 10px;] technically, it wasn’t skipping class if you had a pass. technically, his chemistry teacher had practically begged him to go, ushering him out the door herself and reminding him with an exasperated look not to come back. class that day had been planned for as a review session for the next test, and she couldn’t possibly help the rest of the class better understand the concepts and calculations if he persisted in answering every question. angelo had merely shrugged and acquiesced easily, picking up his few things and asking for a pass so that the hall monitors wouldn’t harp on him incessantly like they always did. (the entire disciplinary committee had some sort of god complex, if you asked him.) he stood in the hallway now, leaned against a set of lockers and looked around for a sign of life. most students were in classes by now, and the few delinquents who were illegitimately still hanging around had better hiding spots than the open hallway. around a moment’s contemplation, angelo decided to head to the infirmary. that way, he could read a book, take a nap, and avoid the idiots that seemed to gravitate to the library these days. he couldn’t trawl the shelves for new reading material in peace anymore, not without someone wondering where he could find the teenage vampire stories and puke-inducing, amorous couple cuddling around every corner. maybe he was exaggerating just a little, but after one not-so-pleasant experience in the hyaku library (don’t ask), angelo had no wanting to go back and risk it again. cutting across the school grounds to the various buildings scattered around, angelo pushed open the infirmary door and was hit by the unpleasant odors of bleach and antiseptic. ugh. he hated hospitals for exactly the same reason, but at least it wasn’t too strong here. “what now? you don’t look too sick to me, either.” almost immediately, angelo was greeted by one disgruntled nurse, who peered at the foreigner from the top of his glasses. rearranging his features into one he usually reserved for teachers and authority figures, angelo kept his eyes on the black and white tiles before raising them to humbly meet the suspicious look. “may i stay here until my next class? i’m feeling a bit light-headed.”

[/color] he took out the paper pass that had been written and handed it to the nurse.

“take a bed then.”

he sounded tired, and angelo thought, with a twinge of pity, that he probably dealt with obnoxious students all day. the emotion only lasted long enough for angelo to smile politely in thanks and walk over to his curtained bed of choice. pulling the curtain open, he settled in and leaned back against the wall, thinking that the paper shifting irritatingly under him wasn’t so bad. at least he had privacy. with a contented breath, he pulled the the curtain closed with one deft flick of the wrist. rummaging through the small bag he had brought with him, he took out a worn paperback that had been haphazardly thrown in there this morning and looked at the title. dante’s inferno. the italian poet was full of himself too, but at least he wrote pleasing poetry. he flipped to the first line and began reading, letting the printed words immerse him. nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita...

all of which was too soon interrupted by someone who apparently wanted fashion advice. angelo growled in frustration. whatever had happened to peace and quiet? he was tempted to just ignore the question in the hopes that the other would get the message and shut up. it wasn’t to be. angelo’s wall of solitude was broken with another quick slide of the curtain. against his will. against his will. weren’t there infirmary rules against these sort of things? why didn’t this bright-eyed moron respect personal space?

with a louder growl that very clearly translated to hostility, angelo cast poisonous green eyes on the stranger and grit his teeth. “do i look like i care? if bearberry or whatever all looks good on you, then just. pick. something.”[/color] he shot one last glare at the boy and viciously yanked his curtain closed.

“now shut the fuck up.” [/style][/td][/tr]
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[ry]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #eeebe3; width: 450px, bTable] [style=background-color: #e0674f; width: 100px; border-right: 4px solid #edd4ca; float: left; padding: 10px; height: 520px; font-family: arial; font-size: 20px; color: #f1efe9; letter-spacing: -1px; ] notes s-so obnoxiously sassy, ringo... count 731 tags angeloooo~ [/style][style=background-color: #fbfaf8; border-right, border-top, border-bottom: 4px solid #e8e5de; -webkit-border-radius: 2px; font-size:10px; line-height:13px; padding:8px; text-align:justify; color: #6d6d6d; padding: 20px; overflow: auto; text-transform: none; height: 500px; overflow: auto;]The thing about Ringo was that any sort of remark that could come off as rude tended to fly off him like bullets on Superman. You just couldn't deter him from his goal unless you used the right words, which in this simile, would be the kryptonite. Without kryptonite, you can't hurt Superman. Without the right word combinations, you just can't shake off Ringo. Especially because all he really heard from the other boy was Bearburry, and looks good on you. He could forgive what appeared to be a slip of the tongue when it came to Burberry, only because it sounded enough like it that he instantly thought of that anyways. Also because this guy was obviously a foreigner who might have not heard of Burberry before. Though Ringo was surely going to throw a fit and pull out the history of the British fashion brand to educate his fellow infirmary visitor if he said he was from the United Kingdom because wow everyone there should totally know about this brand if they live in the land of it's fabulous origins. Ringo pursed his lips at the silver-haired young man and rolled his eyes. He pulled open the curtain once more and leaned forward, frowning. "Uh, yeah. If I could figure out what I wanted to wear I wouldn't be asking, would I now?" He flicked a lone strand out of his face with his pinky and looked the boy over before starring at his face for a moment. His eyes shifted their gaze back to his phone and he tapped through more images of his wardrobe, smirking slightly. "South district, I assume?" He grinned lightly, wondering how knowledge like that would be reacted to. "And you're from somewhere in Western Europe, though I just cannot place from exactly where," he continued, "and don't you even say I'm wrong hun, my eyes are practically honed for this kind of stuff." He looked up from his phone and grinned. "I mean look at them, they're quite bright and pretty, no?" He pointed at them. "Oh yeah- your eyes are kind of nice too. Yeah. Sea foam green? A particular shade of aqua, that's for sure." He clicked his tongue and shifted is position so he sat on the edge of the bed with one leg crossed over his knee, leaning back with one to keep himself up and the other fiddling with the strands of his hair. "My my, just where are my manners? I'm Oshiro, Ringo. You might have heard of me but I'll forgive you just this once if you haven't. Your name?" He stopped fiddling with his hair and turned his head slightly, looking down at his phone and pressing it once to check the time before moving his hand to rest on his knee. "Since you seem like you are a bit cranky and possibly here to actually rest up, I'll make this easy for you. Just give me an answer to what I should wear and I'll leave you alone!" Ringo beamed at the guy, ready to solve this very serious predicament as the indecision was killing him on the inside. Literally. He could feel his fake stomachache morph into a real one at the thought of not looking good for the interviews. If he didn't look his best, then just who would those models think he is? Just the son of some designer? He had to be more than that. He had to show them what they needed to compare too, if only a little bit, in order to wear clothes sewn by his mother! In the Oshiro household, fashion was serious business. The actual business that his father took care of was also serious business, but to Ringo, that was an extremely close second. After all, that business is what bought a majority of his clothing. Burberry was damn fine, but it wasn't cheap. To Ringo it's moderately priced, of course. Fabulous clothes cost that much. Or sometimes nothing, seeing as most of his clothes were obtained through various fashion shows for free since designers liked to promote their brand with free swag at such events. Even for a spoiled brat like Ringo, free was always worth a try. He paused for a moment. "Do you need visuals? I mean I can totally give you visuals. Unless you know what I'm talking about, in which case, I'll respect you quite a bit!" [/style]

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