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  Un nouveau départ

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Prentiss Proveaux


Posts : 387
Join date : 2013-10-08

PostSubject: Un nouveau départ   Tue Oct 08, 2013 12:31 pm

Elvis grinned happily at Zach, leading him over into the employee only section of Disney where most of the characters were gathered to welcome back one of the lost boys. He had been away for almost two months, gone to France to visit with his family. He was Elvis's favorite, and being so, the boy had made sure he would be welcomed home warmly.
The redheaded boy waited with an arm around Zach, his feet propped up in Xavier's lap as he impatiently waited for his friend.
"Where in the hell is he?" Lifting himself up to look around, his eyes settled on the familiar form of Prentiss as he gracefully slid his way into the room.
"Prentiss! Welcome back!" He waved enthusiastically, his smile a mile wide as he made his way over to the slightly smaller boy.
"Bonjour, je suis de retour!!" Prentiss adorned an easy smile, one full of confidence and pride. He was the kind of boy people died for, the kind to kill you with a smile when he left you with goodbye.
Elvis pulled him into a hug, moving to introduce the boy to Zach.
"This is Zacharaiah, my main squeeze!"
A small grunt as gold speckled eyes traveled the length of the boy. "Main squeeze, eh?" He still kept the French accent, but he was extremely fluent in English, having an even bigger vocabulary than Elvis, who had lived in the states his entire life.
"I like ez' 'air." He nodded with finality, as if excepting Zach as the person who would be accommodating Elvis for a while.
"And this is-" Elvis had turned to introduce Xavier but Prentiss had beat him to it, offering his hand to the tattoo artist as if he expected it to be kissed.
"Ze pleasure es all yours monsieur. I am Prentiss, but you can call me yours." A wink, his tongue dashing out to wet his lips.
He was sexy, and he knew it.
Everyone did, he was sure.
"What is this?" Xavier examined the small yellow sticky note, reading over the words "Don't be late for work." It had been stuck onto the back of his door. "Prentiss?" He turned around, his eyes darting to the boy as he wondered into the room.
"Eh?" The boy's hair was mussed, sticking up in odd places. He wore a simple pair of green boxers, already having made himself comfortable in Xavier's home.
"Zhat ez my sticky note." a soft smile as he plucked it from Xavier's hand, placing it back on the door. "Zhey 'elp me remember zings."
Xavier glanced around, his eyes widening slightly as he noticed for the first time that his home had slowly been covered in sticky notes. They were on the counters and the sofas, tables and walls. He had not paid it any mind but now they all seemed to jump out at him.
"You use them a lot, huh?" Not that he really minded, everyone had their quirks.
"I do." Prentiss stepped closer, their breaths mingling now that he was only an inch from Xavier's face, having to stand on his tip toes to even reach the mans lips. "Now, zon't you think that we could be zoing much better things right now?" His hand found Xavier's, fingers playfully tangling with that of the other man, tugging him forward so their chests touched.
"Come now, lets go play in ze sheets." Another wink, a woot of excitement, and Prentiss was gone, his form lost around the corner leading into Xavier's room.
The sticky notes were forgotten.
Prentiss groaned softly, his eye brows furrowing in frustration as he found the tenth sticky note of that morning sitting on his tooth brush, reminding him to brush his teeth. His mother was worrying too much, she really was. Ever since adopting Prentiss from that orphanage and finding that he had an illness she had began taking special measures to combat it.
Combat what?
Prentiss was in a car accident when he had been three, his family died, and in the wreck his head had been damaged. The doctors say he will forget, almost like having Alzheimer. He will forget. Not too bad while he was young, but as he got older it would happen more and more. He would forget.
And she desperately did not want her baby to forget, anything. The doctors predicted it would be so bad that one day he would forget how to breath, his heart would forget how to beat and he would die.
He would die.
Prentiss shrugged it off, busying himself with trying to make memories, memories he could NEVER forget. His mother had a different method.
f*cking sticky notes.
She left them everywhere, reminding him to do simply things, every day things. It got on his nerve to no end.
But now.
Now Prentiss had learned how useful they could be. They helped.
But not even the sticky notes could aid him when he woke up some days, for now it was rare, but on occasion he would wake up, and not know any of his family, He would not know himself. He would had no idea who he was, where he was.
He forgot.
It was dreadful.
"Prentiss?" A strange voice. He picked his head up, his eyes falling on a blonde haired women, her smile soft.
"Who are you?" He immediately drew back, not recognizing this person.
not recognizing anything.
"Prentiss? Its me, momma." The women neared him, only to flinch back as the boy scrambled away from her, shaking his head viciously.
"Your not my mère. Qui êtes-vous??"
Who was he?
He didn't know.
He didn't know.
And now this stranger was going to get him.
It threw the boy into extreme panic, so much that he found himself cowering in the corner of his closet, his small form trembling as fear clutched him.
The women tried to get closer, tried to hold him, tried to tell him she was his mother.
He knew better, if she was his mother he would remember her.
He stayed in the closed all day, crying whenever anyone entered his room and got close to him. Finally the women stopped coming back, her heart broken because her baby did not know her.
It was the first time of many.
The next day he would wake up, and he would remember everyone.
Yet he wouldnt remember what had happened the day before. Would not remember that he forgot.
But he knew. His family told him. He saw bruises and cuts they had, all from him in his haste to get away from them all.
It was getting bad.
And he wasnt sure how to handle it.
And so he did what he knew to do. He made his sticky notes.
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