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Oliver Abel Bells

"What's the point of having friends? All they do is betray you."

0 · 717 views · located in New York - 2012

a character in “Girls in a Hectic All-Boys School?!”, as played by Of The West

Description

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Oliver ♖ Abel ♖ Bells

╔═══════╗
♝The Basics ♗
╚═══════╝

♖ My name is: Oliver Abel Bells
♖ You can call me: Olive, Abel.
♖ I’ve blown this many candles: 18
♖ I am a: Male
♖ I'll meet you in my dorm!: Two 'A'
♖ My Role is: Just a guy trying to make it through the day.

╔═════════════════╗
♝ Getting to Know Me Better ♗
╚═════════════════╝

♖ This Is My Life

Oliver's life was one of solitude, he didn't grow up with any friends, he rarely socialized at all. He spent his time engrossed in the virtual world of the internet, playing games and socializing from the safety of his chair, he did well enough in school. However he was bullied quite a bit, this lead him to resent people and keep his distance from them, he grew to be timid around strangers and even forgot how to act normal in public. To his surprise he was accepted into a college. He wasn't accepted solely for his good grades, instead he was accepted because apparently he was 'cute'. He really had no idea how they could think that, afterall he wasn't very popular with the girls in his highschool. Perhaps it was just because he spent so much time in his room? He had no qualms with it however, it was a good opportunity and he wasn't going to pass it up...

♖ Sometimes I Act Like This

Oliver is timid around strangers, he scarcely trusts anyone and is slow to stand up for himself. He is quiet when around people he doesn't fully trust, but around close friends he's outgoing and friendly. Academically he's pretty stable, usually earning B's and A's. He rarely spends his time outside, whenever possible he remains in his dorm and plays games. He overthinks things whenever he is uncomfortable, sometimes his anxietey can get the better of him and he'll simply get up and leave. He's actually good at faking emotions, and is a really good liar aswell. Oliver isn't sure of himself and tries to avoid risks, with matters of love he simply won't confess his feelings, he fears rejection too much. Around girls he's especially anxious. He's good natured but rarely gets involved in other people's business. He's a bit childish when it comes to what he likes, simple things like candy and games brighten up his day (sometimes one can even see him playing sports.)

╔═══════════╗
♝ Other Information ♗
╚═══════════╝

♖ Give It To Me
☑ Video games.
☑ Solitude.
☑ Soccer.
☑ Rainy days.
☑ Ice cream.

♖ Throw It Out
☒ People.
☒ Sunny days.
☒ Bitter foods.
☒ School work.
☒ Snakes.

♖ Crush: N/A
♖ Quotes
"No man is free who is not the master of himself."
"Trust one who has tried."
"It is nobler to declare oneself wrong than to insist on being right – especially when one is right."
"Why would I go out into the real world where I can get hurt, when I could just stay in here and experience pure joy?"
"Real life keeps getting in the way of my happiness..."
"Why does everything feel so meaningless?"


╔═══════════╗
♝ Final Information ♗
╚═══════════╝

♖ Other: Oliver is a sickly individual, which has made it impossible for him to take part in all the activities normal people do.
♖ Username: Of The West


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So begins...

Oliver Abel Bells's Story

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Oliver♡ Abel♡ Bells


"Today's the day, isn't it.." Oliver declared to himself, today was the first day at college. Laying in his dark room on an old floor mattress, his beloved computer sitting firmly on a desk behind him. His room was quite the mess, he didn't remember the last time he cleaned. He sighed to himself, covering his eyes with his left hand. "Do I really have to go?" He moaned to himself. He didn't feel very well, couldn't he skip the first day? The first day was always just introduction anyways. No, he couldn't skip the first day, his mother would scold him for being irresponsible, and he'd do anything to avoid 'the talk'. He sat up, dark rings under his eyes. "I really do have to go..." Was the final thing he said to himself before preparing to leave.

Oliver wasn't used to going outside and being around people, it caused him unneeded stress and strained his mind. Even a simple task like walking down the sidewalk was a challenge, to pass the time he would count the number of steps he took, then after he became bored of that he tried to avoid stepping on cracks. Oh how he wished he had a car, then he could go anywhere he wished with relative ease. As it was now he was lucky to be driven by his mother, which was really, really lame. He'd rather walk than be seen in his mothers car. Besides, he needed the exercise! That's what he kept telling himself, maybe if he would just get out more he'd be more athletic and less fidgety around people. Yet for some reason, it felt fake, he wouldn't change just because he became a little more fit, nor would his atittude change if he was outside more often. Besides, he was happy just the way he was...Okay, that was a lie, but his life was fairly easy, and he gathered a small sum of pleasure from it, so it couldn't be that bad, right?

Before he realized it he had made it to the campus, he entered through the gate and into the main lobby. Damn.. He thought to himself, this place was grand on a level he had never seen, he would be living here? He would be lying if he said he wasn't excited. He pulled his backpack closer to his body, acting as a sort of shield against the unknown. He walked to the main desk and checked in, he would stroll over to the nearest elevator. Two 'A'... He repeated in his head. That was his dorm number. He heard that he would be living in the same room as someone else, the very thought frightened him. Would his roommate dislike him? Would he think he was strange? He was anxious to say the least. Some part of him wanted to get it over with and meet him already, another part loathed the very thought and hoped that he would never see him. He burried his face into his backpack.

Finally the elevator door opened, he drew his head back as to not look too precarious. He searched the floor for his room, quickly finding it. "Two 'A'..." He quietly repeated to himself. His hand grabbed ahold of the doorknob, he was petrified. Why?! Why was something so menial so hard for him?! He stared at the doorknob, a deadly serious look on his face, he was even starting to look pale. Five seconds, ten seconds, fifteen, twenty, thirty, fifty...A whole minute passed with him just standing there, his hand plastered on the doorknob. Then finally with a sense of courage he twisted the handle and pushed inwards. He took a few steps in. "HELLO MY NAME IS OLIVER I'M HAPPY TO MEET YOU!" He shouted without realizing, he shut his eyes tightly, waiting for a response. But none came. He slowly opened his eyes and scanned the room, "Nobody...Is here..." His jaw dropped as he realized how foolish he must've sounded. He frowned and turned around, shutting the door, he would walk over to the left side of the room where his bed, desk, and shelves would belong.

He threw his backpack on the bed, everything he needed was in there. He unpacked a laptop, a digital clock, a few anime themed figures, a couple books and a couple mangas from his favorite series, some school supplies and that was all. He didn't have much, not even a picture of his family. To him these were all he needed, to be honest he could've just brought his laptop and be happy, but since he could bring a little more he took advantage of it. Still, his shelves and desk looked dreadfully bare. He stretched out his arms and fell back onto the bed, content that he had the place to himself for a little bit. He opened up his laptop, turned it on and began surfing the web.

█ ♞ ⊰ ωнєяє αм ι؟ :: In Dorm A2
█ ♞ ωнσ αм ι ωιтн؟ :: Noone.
█ ♞ ⊰ ωнαт'ѕ ση му мιη∂؟ :: "I have the room to myself, hehe."
█ ♞ ⊰ συт σƒ ¢нєѕѕ-ριє¢єѕ :: Tsukiakari~...Tsukiakari~...Tsukiakari~...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Oliver Abel Bells Character Portrait: Tessa Drake Kewell Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Tessa Drake Kewell
as
Morgan Eris Kewell


Light streamed faintly in through the window, slipping between a crack in the curtains and shining directly down upon a slowly stirring human form. The room, save for this single light, was dark and gloomy, with a bed with blank white blankets, blank white wallpaper, blank white carpeting, a blank wooden writing desk outfitted with a blank-looking computer, a blank wooden bookshelf upon which sat blank, jacketless books, and a few other small accessories that were all just as blank, and all completely irrelevant. Still, it hardly mattered to the room's owner how dreary the place was, for the only persons who had ever permanently occupied it either had or would soon depart, perhaps never to return to it again. The room's first owner had already done so, and had vanished to a place from whence he could never possibly return. But he had lived on in the form of the room's second occupant, a person who would, on this day, also leave for good.

The person in question had lain silently on the bed for some time now, wakened by the light of the sunrise that now shone through the window above, and yet had not bothered to rise, too caught up in a world of contemplation to actually move. It wouldn't be time to leave yet for several hours, which meant there was little need to rush. Everything was already prepared and in order, in any case.

Although ostensibly this silent shape was a male by the name of Morgan Kewell, the facade this individual maintained had been relaxed to allow for a somewhat more comfortable slumber on the previous night, making it somewhat obvious upon a single glance that this person was not the boy they claimed to be, nor even, in fact, a boy at all. As the door was locked and the room meticulously checked to ensure there were none waiting inside already, there could thus be none to see the removal of the mask, so to speak, nor could anyone behold the truth that lay behind it. Yet, the girl who at last rubbed the sleep from her eyes and rose to a seated position was just that: a girl. Unlike the lean, rigid shape of the one known as Morgan beyond the confines of this lonely room, her figure was slender, yet curved. Her flowing golden hair was let down from its usual smart ponytail, instead draping over her shoulders in a messy, free curtain. Her pajamas, the top buttons of which had been undone to ward off unwanted and excessive heat - not to mention to avoid the discomfort caused by the tightness of the top's chest area - gave a sufficient glimpse beneath her collar to make the rounded, prominent form of her bosom obvious, even though the garments themselves weren't particularly tight nor revealing. Long, lean legs slowly rounded out into a thin waist, and the ever-so-slight arch of her back, combined with the flat nature of her stomach and smooth curves of her upper body, made it quite obvious what her real gender was, presenting an appearance that was completely different from her usual state in the company of others.

And this stark contrast was, admittedly, precisely the problem, one of many she had been mulling over as she lay still. Although at first it had been easy to fake being her brother - he had always looked rather effeminate, and she hadn't developed much of a figure then - she now found the difficulty of the task had increased quite considerably since then. Even discounting biological issues, and the challenge of keeping out of places such as changing rooms or bathrooms when in public, her newfound shape was quite hard to hide from a vigilant eye. While most girls her age would have rejoiced to have a full, shapely figure, Tessa Kewell found it to be nothing short of a curse now that she was attempting to hide just the traits others would have flaunted. It wasn't that she hadn't found a solution long before now, mind you. Rather, it was just that she disliked the particulars of what that solution was.

Rising with a sigh, she supposed she could delay no longer. Even if she had already finished packing and other similar preparations, she still needed to clean herself in preparation for the day ahead of her. While she was sure the school would have showers - probably even private ones, at that - she would still almost surely have to share their use and access with her roommate. Thus, she would need to refrain from showering for the first day or two, so as to get a feel for the times at which this unknown element would be using the showers, and for the times during which she herself could safely clean herself and resume her disguise without being noticed. In addition to this, she would need to implement her disguise in full, an act which took a small but nonetheless notable amount of time, and was also somewhat uncomfortable and awkward, making it pressing that she complete this before anyone came to wake her up. It was still fairly early in the morning, and her parents would probably trust her to rise and get ready by herself unless she dawdled for a significant amount of time, but still, she didn't want to take any chances by getting so complacent as to assume the unexpected wouldn't occur.

With a soft rustle, she disentangled herself from the bedsheets, then crossed the room, hastening towards one of two nondescript doors that sat adjacent to each other in the front wall. The left door lead to the hallway outside, but the right one accessed a small, private bathroom that could only be entered from the room itself, and had its own lock, making it safe for her to use without risking revealing herself. And so, entering it, she swiftly undid the remaining fastenings on her pajamas, and slipping free of this, swiftly folded them and placed them on a nearby counter top, before turning and sliding back the curtains of the combined bath and shower. Starting up the water in the latter so as to heat it, Tessa then stepped back, hugging her arms against her chest to ward against the chill permeating the tile-floored room. The worst part about taking showers, in her opinion, was waiting, especially when it was cold.

Still, a quick check a half a minute later showed that the water sprinkling down from the head was now a pleasantly warm temperature, and so she wasted no time in quickly stepping in, shutting the curtain behind her out of a sense of habit and slight paranoia. In an instant, the cold that had assaulted her was washed away, replaced by a hot shroud that ran slowly from her head to her toes, before dribbling away down the drain and out of sight. Giving a quiet sigh of satisfaction, Tessa brushed back her soaked hair to keep it out of her eyes, and then slowly turned back and forth, trying to make sure she had fully drenched herself before she at last set about the task of soaping off. It was a pet peeve of hers to have the soap wash off while she was applying it, and yet she also intensely disliked moving into the cold any longer than she had to, so she habitually stood with her back to the shower head, soaping off her arms and front while still allowing her back to soak in the warm current behind her. The problem lay in the step that came next. If she bent over to scrub off her legs, or tried to wipe down her back, the water flowing across her form would wash her efforts away. As such, she at last had no choice but to step out of the water, grimacing as the cold struck back with renewed vigor. She hastily soaped the rest of herself off, and then quickly stepped back into the water, trying to curl herself up as best she could so as not to leave a single part of herself exposed fully to the chill air.

Giving a quiet grumble, she set about attempting to recover the warmth she had lost, plugging the drain once all of the soap had washed down it, and turning on the faucet to quickly fill the tub beneath her with nice, hot water, then turned off both the faucet and the shower and seated herself, slowly allowing herself to slip beneath the water as she stretched out, doing her best to simply relax in the comfort that surrounded her. After all, in her opinion, one of the best ways to calm one's mind was to take a long, hot bath, to simply lie beneath the water and soak - a privilege it would soon be unsafe for her to exercise. But despite this, she couldn't bring herself to relax in the least. Slight fears danced around the edges of her mind, countless different scenarios playing out in her mind and warning her of equally numerous manners in which she might be discovered for the faker that she was. Although she had managed to conceal herself admirably in a situation in which she could easily hide herself away in solitude, now, she realized, the game would be changing a great deal. In a boarding school - one exclusively for boys, no less - there would be very few places in which she could take refuge and let down her disguise, if there were any at all. She would have to maintain her facade on a whole new level, a feat which she was uncertain of her capability to perform. Yet, despite this, it seemed to be her only option: to maintain her disguise as best she could, and to continue with her life - no, with the life that had been set out for her. That was all there was to it, for if there was one field in which Tessa Kewell excelled, it was that of deception.

.....

Sighing, Tessa at last finished gathering up the clothes she would wear. Her bath had been disappointingly short, given the weight of her own paranoia on her mind, and so she had soon hastily risen, washed her hair, and dried herself off. She had already bound back her golden locks into their usual ponytail - an admittedly effeminate style, but one her brother had favored, as well as being a fashion she didn't exactly mind either - but had yet to clothe herself, instead taking what time she had to find an outfit that she was sure would conceal her figure as well as could be done. The first day would be the hardest, as she would need to adjust to her new environment. Thus, any advantage she could make use of would be made use of. She could not afford to spare any expense on establishing her disguise initially.

The results of her search were fairly satisfactory, and she looked on them with approval. First, an admittedly rather fancy pair of black pants, which, while baggy enough to render vague exactly how slender her legs were, were also not so oversized as to seem unnatural, or odd. Accompanying this, a long-sleeved black button-up shirt, and a white blazer with black and red trim. Both of these garments were thick and loose, yet also snugly-fitting enough to attract little attention. Still, she had to admit, there was one regard in which she was forced to remain woefully uncomfortable: underwear.

While she had little problem with the boxer shorts her parents bought for their "son" - actually, they were rather loose and comfortable, if somewhat annoyingly bulky - there was still the issue of what else to wear. If she wore nothing at all, or even wore normal undergarments, her figure would be much too apparent. Thus, there was only one item she could actually wear.

Eying the long, thick strip of white cloth with an air of disgust, Tessa at last gave a regretful sigh, and then began to wrap the sarashi around herself with a somewhat practiced, if reluctant hand. The samurai-style undercloth essentially consisted of a tight cotton cloth, something like a bandage, wrapped over and over around one's torso. This, in turn, served to further obscure Tessa's figure, adding an extra layer to her slender waist while pushing in her chest, thus giving an air of uniformity that made her true gender rather difficult to discern. It was rather ironic, really, using a garment that had originated as a symbol of masculinity - at least in feudal Japan - to conceal femininity, but the faker had little appreciation for such irony at the moment, largely due to the fact that to adequately hide her shape, she needed to wind the cloth tightly enough as to be quite uncomfortable. Even after all this time, she still hadn't quite gotten used to the pressure upon her body. Still, it was a necessary measure, and the only solution she had to a very pressing problem. That did not, however, make it any less of a nuisance.

In any case, she had spent almost all of her time already. Hastily winding the sarashi and then pulling it as tight as could be managed without causing outright pain, she then busied herself with slipping into the clothes she had picked out. Within a minute, she stood before the mirror, giving a slight smile at her reflection. Even she wouldn't have recognized herself as female, had she not known already. This disguise would work perfectly for the occasion, so long as nothing went wrong. She was sure of that much.

A knock on the door snapped her out of her reverie. "Morgan! It's almost time," a quiet voice said somewhat reluctantly. It seemed her time was up. Quickly, she picked up a backpack full of various textbooks for the courses she was to take, as well as a duffel bag full of personal accessories, all carefully calculated as to be of no risk to her identity as possible. Those items that might have betrayed her had already been safely smuggled out of the house, concealed in bags of trash from the kitchen and deposited in randomly selected public trash cans at least two blocks away from her own home, all at varying times of night, so as not to be noticed coming or going. Shouldering these bags, she hastily opened the door and made her way into the hallway, the tired, glum face of her father meeting her eyes. Judging by his voice and appearance, he didn't like the idea of her leaving. It made sense. The family had already lost one child, and Tessa was sure they didn't want their second leaving the nest, even now.

"I know. I'm all ready, dad," "Morgan" replied, assuming her usual deep - but not unnaturally deep - voice, an act which had been so practiced by now as to be indistinguishable from the speech of the brother she was impersonating. Realizing that her brother would surely pick up on the same visual cues as she had and act on them, she quickly moved on to assuaging the worry that was obvious in her father's face.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine, and I'll keep in touch. I wouldn't leave you and mom behind for the world," She said, smiling kindly. Her father nodded, and gave a slight smile of his own.

"Thank you for that. It's not that I don't trust you. I know you wouldn't get into anything dangerous, even on your own. It's just..." He trailed off.

"I understand. You don't need to worry about that, either. I'll be careful."

"I know you will."

"Well, then, we should probably be going." She gave a slight smile to lighten the mood a bit. "You and mom have work, so I'll just catch a taxi."

"Are you sure? I could drive you."

"Don't worry yourself with that. A walk will be good for me, I think."

.....

It had taken about half an hour - actually, a surprisingly good time, if one thought about it - but, looking calm and collected, Morgan Kewell at last arrived at the doors of the school. It was a little intimidating, going into such a large place as this, especially given his circumstances. But, he had known what he was getting into from the moment he set out, and it was far too late to hesitate. At this point, there was only one direction to go: forward. And so, placing a steady, resolved hand upon the double doors, he opened them and strode briskly into the lobby.

The school was even more fancy on the inside than it had seemed from the courtyard. Morgan glanced about himself as he slowly entered, giving a quiet whistle of surprise at the ornate and pristine furnishings all around him. If he didn't know better, he would have said he had just walked into a palace or a mansion rather than a university. And to think... this was where he would be staying for the next few years? That was pretty incredible, in and of itself.

"Excuse me?" He quietly, politely hailed the receptionist, walking up to her with a polite, if somewhat overwhelmed smile. "I'm Morgan Kewell. I'm a student here - or at least, I will be."

"Kewell... Kewelll..." The woman sifted through a few papers, and then quickly settled upon a name, applying a check to a small box next to it before reaching into a drawer and taking out a small set of keys, doing all of these things with a very businesslike manner, only serving to increase the faint sense of unease pressing on Morgan's mind. "These are the keys to your dorm. Two A. Thank you, and welcome to Beauchamp Academy." And, with that, she quickly, almost dismissively handed the keys over to the young student, and turned back to her work.

"Er... thanks...?" Morgan said uncertainly taking the keys and deciding it would be best to quickly leave. If he recalled correctly from the brochure, the dorms were up a few levels... he supposed he'd be taking the elevator, then. Locating this quickly, he soon found himself inside, and, consulting a map on the wall, found his destination with relative ease. Pushing the right button, he kicked back against the rear wall, setting down his duffel for a moment as he waited to reach the dormitory level. He couldn't help but be nervous. What sort of roommate would he get? How was he going to maintain his daily life, without... well, without blowing his cover, to be frank. And, most importantly, how would all of this end? Still, there was only one way to find out, he mused, emerging from the elevator and making his way down the corridor into which he exited until he found the dorm labeled "2A." Bracing himself, he took a deep breath, and then slowly opened the door, stepping into the unknown.

It seemed as though his roommate had arrived already, the small decorations adorning one side of the surprisingly large and plush room making it pretty clear that someone was here. Pushing back his uneasiness at stepping into such an unfamiliar environment, Morgan spoke as calmly and amicably as he could, even though he hesitated on the threshold of the door, not wanting to seem rude or boisterous by barging in unannounced. How did you deal with a roommate, anyway? Did you always knock before you came in, or at least ask if you should enter? Or did you just walk in? Or was that rude? Argh, all of these little things could be so difficult to figure out sometimes! Anyway, there was nothing to do but go for it. And so, Morgan announced himself, he hoped, without seeming impolite.

"Er... hello? Anybody in here? If so, I guess I'm your new roommate. Is it alright if I come in?"

x█ ♞ ⊰ ωнєяє αм ι؟ :: Dorm A2.
x█ ♞ ⊰ ωнσ αм ι ωιтн؟ :: Oliver.
x█ ♞ ⊰ ωнαт'ѕ ση му мιη∂؟ :: "A roommate, huh...? Could be troublesome. It would be safest to just distance myself, but if I act weird around him, people will get suspicious. I can't just change my attitude, either, just in case somehow my parents get wind of things, which means I just have to keep things up and hope for the best. Sigh... Even after all this time, it's still so hard to be like you, brother..."
x█ ♞ ⊰ συт σƒ ¢нєѕѕ-ριє¢єѕ :: Wasn't sure about the format, but this should work... I hope.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Oliver Abel Bells Character Portrait: Tessa Drake Kewell Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Oliver♡ Abel♡ Bells


Oliver would be sitting near the back of his bed with his legs crossed. His laptop sitting a few inches infront of him, the the right of his laptop was a notebook with a small black mouse ontop, a small black cord ran from the device to the laptop. There was not one, but two cords, the second connecting to some purple earbuds he was currently wearing. His back was slightly hunched over, he was currently reading an article about a soon to be released game he was thinking of buying. Although Morgan would not hear it, Oliver was listening to classical music and had his volume turned up pretty high. For a while now he had been reading, deeply engrossed in the seemingly endless article. Oliver was wearing a black long-sleeved shirt that seemed to be a little too big for him, it's collar was slightly wider than necessary, revealing a small fraction of his shoulders and chest. A black sweater with white outlines laid on the floor next to his bed, his gray sneakers residing only a few feet beside it. His white socks were a direct contrast to his dark blue jeans. A look of pure and true indifference was stuck to his face, this was how he looked when absorbed into his computer, almost as if he wasn't actually concious. Spending so much time in a virtual space he naturally formed a strange habbit, he could spend long periods of time sitting still, and not blink once. More than any normal person at least, he could go on for hours without blinking, only when he was interrupted from his virtual trance did he blink, his internal mechanisms reminding his body to blink.

At the beginning the article promised a leaked screenshot, finally after what seemed like and eternity he finished reading the article, just under the last paragraph there was a small blue link, it's title was 'Your Welcome.' With excitment he clicked on the link, the new image quickly loaded up. He marveled at the beautiful vista before him, was this pre-rendered? It must've been, no other game on the market had graphics like these. Wow...It's amazing! His eyes widened a bit, the corners of his mouth curling upwards to form a small smile. He noticed something move in the corner of his eye, but he wasn't interested in it. He simpley soaked in the majesty of the picture infront of him, It's...Glorious! Suddenly he heard someones voice, it was made nearly indecipherable by the music playing directly into his ears, but he could make out the majority of it. He quickly closed the tab and paused the current song that was playing. His heart raced for some reason, what was this feeling? Was it fear? It felt like he was being pulled down, like he was ten times heavier than before. His head slowly raised, his muddy brown eyes examining his roomate, he looked nice enough, but looks were deceiving, Oliver knew that too well. He soon realized he was staring at the other male and snapped his head back down to look at the laptop, he started to open a few windows and type in random words as if pretending he was in the middle of something. Without looking up at him he said, "Of course it's all right..." Despite his apathetic tone, he was distressed and his mind was racing. Why would he ask if it was alright to come in? Did he think Oliver was doing something private? That didn't make sense, maybe he was just being polite? Maybe he was discouraged and was secretly hoping Oliver to deny him access...

Obviously all of that was nonsense, but he wasn't used to social contact, so he didn't know how other individuals acted. After a few long moments he calmed down a bit, reassuring himself that it was just another student. His typing slowed down until it stopped entirley, he closed the browsers and opened up another one, he would check one of his forums simply for the sake of having something to occupy himself. He wouldn't look up at the other male, he was too frightened to look, he didn't want to seem like he was staring, nor did want to seem like he was ignoring him. Damn, why couldn't he just act normal? Oh, that's right, he forgot how. How would he relearn it? It wasn't like there was a book he could read, or a video he could watch and be normal again. He didn't know what to say next, he kept thinking of phrases and questions he could speak, I should ask for his name, right? Or should I say something cool like "I knew we would meet." No! That sounds so lame, how does that even make sense?! That would put him under the impression that i'm a stalker! He fretted endlessly...

█ ♞ ⊰ ωнєяє αм ι؟ :: In Dorm A2
█ ♞ ⊰ ωнσ αм ι ωιтн؟ :: Morgan Eris Kewell.
█ ♞ ⊰ ωнαт'ѕ ση му мιη∂؟ :: "What am I supposed to say next?!"
█ ♞ ⊰ συт σƒ ¢нєѕѕ-ριє¢єѕ :: Sorry for the slow reply!

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Tessa Drake Kewell
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Morgan Eris Kewell


Glancing around the corner, Morgan finally located his mysterious roommate. For a moment, the boy seemed perfectly at ease, like he was more a part of the room than a living being occupying it. Although his face was angled somewhat away from the entryway, the new student could still see his cheerful smile as his eyes slowly slipped across the monitor in front of him. Judging by his general manner, it looked like he was reading something, but given that he didn't at first seem to notice when Morgan spoke, and when he did notice, he hastily removed a pair of earphones from his head, he had probably been listening to music, too. Still, the moment his headset came off, his attitude completely changed.

Slowly turning around, the boy nervously gazed at the newcomer, his dark eyes fearfully examining the one in the doorway from beneath his hair, as though too scared to look up, yet too affixed to turn away. He was staring straight at Morgan with what looked like surprise and fear, and for a minute, the faker was quite worried that "his" sarashi had somehow loosened, blowing "his" act entirely just from the first glance. And yet, that was impossible... Even without looking - something which would only further inculpate him - Morgan could tell that the garment was as tight as ever, that absolutely nothing could be showing of his true nature. So why was the boy staring like that? Maybe he had noticed already how odd Morgan's face was? For a male of age 19, it must have seemed really odd that he didn't even have a trace of stubble. To have such a childish countenance, even at this age, probably would be considered unusual. That, his obviously soft, pale skin tone, his slightly format outfit, his long hair and his bright, unusually colored vermillion eyes, must have made him seem like some sort of effeminate pretty boy. Although that was an observation Morgan was long since used to, it would still be awkward here, even after all this time.

A quiet voice and a sudden flurry of activity gave Morgan his answer, and he watched as the room's other occupant swiftly returned to his computer, swiftly setting about opening several seemingly completely unrelated windows. No... actually, they probably were completely unrelated. He had been reading before, right? So why was he suddenly typing and bringing up countless new tabs on random subjects? The only explanation could be that he was trying to hide something... couldn't it? Did that mean he had been looking at dirty pictures or something? While that would explain his timid, embarrassed demeanor, that also couldn't be the case, since, again, he had been reading. Maybe he just really, really liked his privacy, then...? Well, if that was the case, Morgan couldn't really blame him, being someone who felt a great deal the same way.

"Of course it's alright..." The boy said quietly at last. Not wanting to seem rude, Morgan decided it would be best instead to take his slight confusion in stride and continue being amicable as ever - albeit not in a forceful way. The kid was probably just nervous. That was something Morgan could understand perfectly well. He'd been forced by circumstance to leave his comfortable home and his family, taken instead to reside in a strange and overwhelming place in the company of some person he didn't know. Who wouldn't be worried, in a situation like that?

"Alright, then, thanks. It's nice to meet you. I'm Morgan Kewell," Morgan said cheerfully, stepping into the room and setting down his duffel and backpack next to the bed on the right, one the other boy hadn't already occupied. To be honest, he didn't really like the proximity of the windows - it made him feel nervous to know somebody outside might be looking in, even if they were several floors up - but that issue could be dealt with later. Right now, there were more pressing issues at hand, like making a good impression and getting a feel for his roommate's personality.

"Sorry," He said at last, scratching his hair nervously and beginning to fidget with his ponytail as he turned back to the room's other occupant. The boy seemed more nervous than ever, his overall manner and his oversized clothing giving him the appearance of someone struggling to fit into his own skin. It was a stark contrast from how he had looked before, when he was alone. At this point, Morgan had to rule out embarrassment at looking at something private. If that was the case, he would certainly have mastered himself by now, wouldn't he have? "If I'm bothering you, just say so. How should I put this... you look busy...? So, yeah, if I'm getting in your way, just ignore me. I don't mind."

x█ ♞ ⊰ ωнєяє αм ι؟ :: Dorm A2.
x█ ♞ ⊰ ωнσ αм ι ωιтн؟ :: Oliver Abel Bells.
x█ ♞ ⊰ ωнαт'ѕ ση му мιη∂؟ :: "He seems really... I don't know, shy? I didn't expect that. Still, I think if that's the case, things could work out nicely. I don't pry into his secrets, and he doesn't pry into mine."
x█ ♞ ⊰ συт σƒ ¢нєѕѕ-ριє¢єѕ :: Sorry if it's a little rushed. I'm slightly crammed for time at the moment.

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Oliver♡ Abel♡ Bells


Compared to Oliver, the male revealed to be Morgan seemed so easy going and cool, even though he did seem a bit put off by Oliver's fidgety and nervous behaviour. It felt like he was doing some wrong, he felt like apologizing for his behaviour, but even that seemed to be the wrong move. Oliver felt trapped, anything he did was the incorrect action. Oliver glanced over at Morgan a few times, examining his appearance more. His fair white skin, soft looking blonde hair, and feminine facial features made him look quite...Cute. Wait, what was Oliver thinking? He shook those thoughts and tried to convince himself they meant nothing. Even so, it was impossible to deny that Morgan didn't look a little cute, perhaps charming would be a better word. Oliver was thankful to have such a friendly individual as a roomate, he could've had much worse, that much was for certain. Morgan Kewell.. Oliver repeated the name in his head, he could've sworn he heard that name before. Perhaps it was just he word 'Kewell'? Maybe he read that word somewhere online, he didn't know, nor did he very much care. He realized he should probably introduce himself, but even something as simple as that seemed difficult. Formulating words into coherent sentences was difficult, and making it sound right was even more so. He kept his head lowered and facing the laptop screen, even though he didn't want Morgan to leave his sight, he felt uneasy without the stranger in his field of view. "Oliver Bells..." He replied quietly, he didn't want to come off as unfriendly or apathetic, but for some reason he couldn't help but speaking as if he was talking to a scolding parent.

No doubt he was out of his safe zone by now, he was in a whole new environment, a one that was much too lively for his liking, he hated being out of his element like this. "Sorry," At this, Oliver looked up a little bit, why was he apologizing? Did he blame himself for something? Suddenly Oliver felt quite bad, did he do something wrong? Knowing how his social interaction usually went, he probably did. He felt disheartened. He wanted to apologize for his own behaviour, and try to be more friendly, but he couldn't, it was as if something was holding him back, like a great weight that he was unable to overcome. He was simply reading small messages on his laptop, not paying any particular attention to them. How pathetic, he was really pretending to read? Even he found it sad, but it wasn't like he could just shut it down and talk with Morgan, what the hell would he say? The weather's pretty good, isn't it? This place is pretty fancy, right? You wanna' go to the cafe and grab a bite to eat? Do you want to go for a walk together? That last one gave off a vibe that Oliver didn't consent in good will. What were roomates supposed to do anyways? He would be inclined to ask some other students, but he dreaded social contact, it was marching towards doom itself.

"If I'm bothering you, just say so. How should I put this... you look busy...? So, yeah, if I'm getting in your way, just ignore me. I don't mind." A small childish frown appeared on Oliver's face. Getting in his way? Well, he couldn't ignore him very well if he was in the same room. Hell, he couldn't ignore him even if he was two rooms away. He couldn't simply ignore strangers living around him, it was unnerving, he couldn't anticipate what they would do, complete unknown variables. He didn't want to appear as if he wanted Morgan gone, he didn't, well he did, but he didn't! It was complicated. He didn't know whether he appreciated Morgan's presence or loathed it. Of course he would be much more comfortable living by himself, but it wasn't like he would hate living with others, as long as they were friendly and didn't interact with him too much. The problem was that Morgan and Oliver would be living in such a small area, interaction would almost be a constant. His mind told him to ignore Morgan, but he felt that was the wrong decision. He summoned up his courage and raised his head slightly so he was looking at Morgan's lower half, he couldn't handle eye contact at the moment. He pulled his legs closer to his body, "You're...You're not bothering me." His voice was once again quiet and sincere. He wanted to say more, but the the words didn't come, they were trapped inside, longing to escape but forever trapped, like a butterfly struggling against the strength of a spiderweb. Ahhh! What do is say?! What am I supposed to do?! He hadn't been in a situation like this in many many years, he was at a loss. He wanted to do something to seem like a more open person, he was perfectly open and extrovert alone, but he couldn't speak his mind around others, it drove him crazy.

█ ♞ ⊰ ωнєяє αм ι؟ :: Dorm A2
█ ♞ ⊰ ωнσ αм ι ωιтн؟ :: Morgan Eris Kewell.
█ ♞ ⊰ ωнαт'ѕ ση му мιη∂؟ :: "I don't mind him. What am I supposed to say? Ahh! I feel like i'm an actor in a play that has no script!"
█ ♞ ⊰ συт σƒ ¢нєѕѕ-ριє¢єѕ :: Sorry for the delayed response, my sleep patterns have been messed up, I hope this pleases you!

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Tessa Drake Kewell
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Morgan Eris Kewell


The boy at last spoke, breaking the momentary silence between them. He introduced himself, but was so quiet that Morgan couldn't quite be sure he had heard him right, despite the almost complete lack of sound in the room. His voice was barely more than a whisper, and was seemingly directed at the ground rather than at his new roommate, making it even harder to interpret. Morgan raised an eyebrow slightly, looking a little conflicted. He seemed to have been right with his assessment of "nervous," but still, this was above and beyond even what he had expected. It was perfectly reasonable to be scared at the prospect of having to live in a strange place with an unfamiliar person for at least a year, if not more, and Morgan really couldn't blame him for being unable to adjust to the new environment. But still, retreating into himself this much made it look like the boy, Oliver, was terrified of the newcomer, a feeling that rendered Morgan somewhat indecisive. If that was the case, how should he react? On the one hand, it felt like a him-ish thing to do to keep on trying to be as friendly as possible, to show Oliver he wasn't anyone to be scared of, but on the other, now would probably be a good time to exercise some tact and just leave the boy alone until he calmed down a little. But if he kept on pressing conversation, wouldn't that just overwhelm his subject and make him feel obligated to respond? And if he simply stopped talking at such an awkward point, wouldn't it seem like Oliver had done something wrong and had insulted him? Either way he looked at it, there was no right way out of the situation! On the one hand, he'd seem like a self-centered, talkative loon, and on the other, he'd just be distancing himself and making Oliver feel guilty. Either way was no way to go about things. The way he saw it, the only way to break this long, awkward pause was to bring up a subject of interest to both of them. If there was something they both felt they could comfortably, the situation could possibly be salvaged. But how...? How was Morgan supposed to know that much about a person he had only just met? Unless he could somehow manage to make an educated guess and hit the target, there just wasn't any way he could discover such a subject, was there? Almost unconsciously, he began to fidget with his ponytail, spinning it around furiously until it began to twist, then turning it the other way and continuing the motion, making him look rather ridiculous as he stood deep in thought, frantically searching for some sort of clue to the solution he sought.

Suddenly, however, his reverie was snapped apart by just a few softly spoken words. Although they were still quiet, they were there, and Morgan could this time be sure of what he'd just heard. Stopping abruptly - unintentionally slapping himself in the face with his own overly long mane of hair in the process - he glanced up, and smiled slightly at what he heard.

"You're...You're not bothering me," Olver said at last, his face still angled downward, but his eyes glancing nervously up through his bangs at Morgan, who gave him a reassuring grin.

"Ah, that's good," He replied, relieved, mustering all of the friendliness he could and trying his best to continue the conversation. But how? What was he to speak about... If he went silent now, Oliver would feel like he was expected to say something, and considering how hard it seemed for him to speak up, he would probably just lapse into silence and distance himself again. It was a pattern Morgan - no, Tessa - knew all too well from her childhood. Always, everyone had expected her to be just as perfect as her brother, and had forced her into decisions and situations she never wanted to make. Always, she had let them down, and after a while, she had simply stopped trying, drawing back into her little shell and hiding within her own small world. Everyone had just accepted this and ignored her. For every single day of that isolation, she had wanted someone who would reach out to her, who wouldn't drag her kicking and screaming out of her comfort zone, but rather would help her gently to extend her reach out into the broader world. Her brother had filled that void until his - no, her untimely death, and now that she was Morgan, there could be only one option: to fill that place, and to be just like he had always been. It was just as much a matter of sympathy as it was a matter of personal nature. She couldn't just act the part of her brother. She had to be Morgan. Although her heart went out to the boy to begin with - she knew exactly how terrible it felt to never know how to interact with others - she now had another reason to help him. Because she, Tessa Drake Kewell, was more than just a liar. She was the ultimate imitation, the greatest swindler ever to have lived!

At last, Morgan's eyes fell upon exactly the thing he had been searching for: a clue. Smiling slightly, he walked as casually as he could over to a small side-table, upon which sat several unmistakable items. Ah, so that was this boy's hobby... Anime and Manga fans weren't exactly common, being somewhat an esoteric form of media in the United States, but admittedly, Morgan himself had seen a few - mostly big ones like Bleach, Fullmetal Alchemist, and, his personal favorite, The Slayers - and was familiar with the sort of style and genre.

"Oh, hey," He asked, inspecting the items on the table. This was his best bet. Now, all there was to do was bring the subject up casually, and hope for the best. Taking a silent breath, he mustered himself, and spoke. "Aren't these books of yours manga? That's interesting. You don't really come across fans of Japanese media often here in America. I've seen a few anime myself, but I don't really recognize any of these volumes you have."

Damnit. That wasn't casual at all. That sounded so forced! Well, he'd gone and done it now. All he could do at this point was hope that it worked, regardless.


x█ ♞ ⊰ ωнєяє αм ι؟ :: Dorm A2.
x█ ♞ ⊰ ωнσ αм ι ωιтн؟ :: Oliver Abel Bells.
x█ ♞ ⊰ ωнαт'ѕ ση му мιη∂؟ :: "He's so quiet... It's almost like... no, I think he IS scared of me. In that case, what do I do? I suppose I should try to just be friendly, but that's easier said than done."
x█ ♞ ⊰ συт σƒ ¢нєѕѕ-ριє¢єѕ :: By Kewell being familiar, are you perchance referring to Code Geass?

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Oliver's hobbies caused him quite a bit of trouble back in primary school, the other kids would call him a creep. He didn't drop the hobby because of it though, infact it only encouraged him to spend more time inside. That constant looming lonliness was suffocating, he experienced it every day outside, even when he wasn't in school. It felt like the air around him was stale, like he was slowly being starved of oxygen, he hated it. His only sanctuary was his room, where all the things he loved were. Inside that dark confined space he couldn't be hurt, he couldn't be insulted or picked on. Things only got worse when he progressed to high school, he found it difficult to socialize with other human beings in general, it felt unnatural, like he was talking to a monster. He found that there was simply no point, so he became a no-life shut-in. He was always hesitant of showing his hobbies off to people, he feared that he would be called a creep, hell, even he himself found his hobbies a little odd. He raised his head slightly, just enough so that Morgan was in his field of view, what was he thinking? He watched him play with his golden ponytail. It was silly, enough to make Oliver smile, almost enough to make him laugh, but he would hold back any hint of laughter, he didn't want to be rude.

He began to worry as soon as Morgan approached him, the distance between them was depleting quickly. He felt like his protective barrier had been broken, he was so vulnerable, it terrified him. What was he doing? Was he going to do something to him? Why was he coming closer?! He looked straight down at the bed sheets, No, you idiot! That'll make you look stupid! He raised his head quickly, his face turning a slight pink color, he tried to keep a straight face, but instead he ended up looking rather strained. Morgan was looking at his comics, it was almost too embaressing to handle. He should've hid them under his bed, internally he cursed himself. He listened to Morgan, he was surprised to hear that he had also experienced the medium, but he couldn't believe it. It was just impossible, somebody as cool as Morgan reading manga? Nah, it didn't make sense. He was probably just trying to make Oliver feel better, or at least that's what he thought, which only made him feel more uncomfortable. I'm screwing this up so bad.. He thought to himself. Of course Morgan wouldn't recognize them, they were fairly old, volumes he hadn't quite gotten around to reading. It was easy to missplace things and forget about them in Oliver's mess of a room.

He looked at Morgan straight for the first time, he still couldn't handle eye contact, so he ended up looking at his mouth/nose. A little akward, but it was better than the alternative. He tried to put up a cheerful smile, it looked odd to say the least. "Th-That's probably because they're old." He replied, trying his best to sound casual. "Y-You can borrow them if you want to..." He offered. God this was embaressing, he wanted to run away, maybe hide in some dark corner and cool down.

█ ♞ ⊰ ωнєяє αм ι؟ :: Dorm A2.
█ ♞ ⊰ ωнσ αм ι ωιтн؟ :: Morgan Eris Kewell
█ ♞ ⊰ ωнαт'ѕ ση му мιη∂؟ :: Ugh, I hope he doesn't think i'm weird...
█ ♞ ⊰ συт σƒ ¢нєѕѕ-ριє¢єѕ :: Sorry for the short post, figured i'd get this in already, still sick so it's an uphill battle to write a post out. (Also yes, I was reffering to Code Geass.)

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Tessa Drake Kewell
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Morgan Eris Kewell


For a moment, Morgan feared he'd ruined absolutely everything. His roommate's face flushed bright red, and Oliver quickly gazed down with an attitude that looked something between self-revulsion, shame, and horror, from what the blonde-haired student could tell, an expression he knew well enough as the signs of a person realizing that a conversation they'd been forced into was taking a turn for the worse, and they could do next to nothing to stop it. He hesitated, and almost apologized, but he had only noticed too late. He'd already started to glance over the book collection, and it would seem really weird if he just turned away and continued like nothing had happened. The poor kid would probably just end up all stressed out, thinking Morgan secretly thought he was some sort of deviant but was too nice to bring it up. That, too, would only guilt him, so that left only one option: press forward and, at the very least, break even by alleviating the fears he himself had inspired.

And so he did. To his relief, his plan seemed to at least not backfire, since the boy immediately looked up - directly at Morgan's face, something which was a first in this conversation, and was thus worthy of note - with a slight but nonetheless present smile, and quickly spoke. His words were stammered, and somewhat muffled as his embarrassment caught them in his throat, but the faker realized that, compared to the distant, reserved exterior he had beheld before, this had to be both an improvement, and a rarity. So the plan was a success, then? Well, it was too early to tell on that count, he supposed, but still, it looked like he'd at least managed to relieve some of the tension between them. Still, it was pretty clear Oliver was still feeling very awkward about the whole arrangement. Probably the best course now would be to accept his offer as politely as possible, and end the conversation on a decent note. Essentially, quitting while he was ahead. Now that there was an opportunity available to do so, it would be best to wrap things up and take it before he pushed his new roommate to further extents of embarrassment. Doing so would only raise the old tension once again, and if that happened, he didn't think he could so easily come up with a route to keep the conversation from breaking down completely.

"Ah," Morgan began, grinning wryly-yet-gratefully at the nervous boy and quickly trying to search for the best path to take in closing the discussion. "Thanks a lot for the offer. I'm in sore need of a good book to read at the moment, and it'd be a real pain to work out the library's whole sorting system just to find one good novel to borrow. If it wouldn't be a problem, that would be great. That is, unless you were planning on reading them. If that's the case, I'd be fine with waiting."

x█ ♞ ⊰ ωнєяє αм ι؟ :: Dorm A2.
x█ ♞ ⊰ ωнσ αм ι ωιтн؟ :: Oliver Abel Bells.
x█ ♞ ⊰ ωнαт'ѕ ση му мιη∂؟ :: "Whew. Crisis averted. Looks like he's feeling a little less pressed by my attempts at conversation than before, but it would be best, maybe, to recognize how awkward this is for him and end things as politely as possible after his next response, or so. Reading books would give me a perfect justification for that, so I guess that'll be my way out. Perfect. Another act, another conversation, just as planned."
x█ ♞ ⊰ συт σƒ ¢нєѕѕ-ριє¢єѕ :: I thought so. XD On a completely unrelated note, I was expecting Oliver would have identified "Morgan" as an epic-level Bishonen rather than a "cool guy." And on THAT note, it might be hilarious to start referring to "him" as "The Bishie" in my narration when not using "his" name. And, finally, now that I wrote "just as planned" in the "What's on my Mind" section, I'm stuck with a mental image of Morgan/Tessa with the infamous Light Yagami face. Hoo boy. XD