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[Parker James Hart]

& SILENCE WHISPERS WORDLESS LULLABIES

Parker found himself idly gliding his hand to and fro along the plush arm of the couch he was seated upon. His gaze, miles away. Every bit of his flesh felt the distance. His mind doing an exotic waltz, unable to shake the images just yet. One would think, after a certain amount of time you would adjust. Adjust to what has become of your life. Apparently Parker was an exception, assuming the aforementioned some rule of tragedy. Tragedy. One could gaff at the word. Tease him for being so melodramatic. Perhaps this was why he was still suffering the nightmares. He was thinking too much on what had become of him. He let it consume him in a manner he should not. He had no real excuse, he simply could not help it. Nor find it in him to try all too hard to do so. Why should he?

It played out in his head in flashes. His mother's cold disapproving eyes. Always as if he had chosen this. His cousin, darting off. The unknown face in front of him. The blood. The thermos. He felt like it all belonged to someone else. Perhaps a movie. The Twilight Zone. Surely something that out in the west wing could not be created in his own mind. To think, sleeping such an innocent time of passing. Dreams the thing most were told to clench to. Always the same nightmare for him, always. A part of him doubted it would ever waver. He was always careful when waking in the mist of the night like this, for he wished not to wake Evan. Luckily, he was not a screamer. Otherwise, Evan would be up every night just as often as he and Parker would request a room swap. He rather inconvenienced Evan enough as it was, he need not burden him by causing him sleep deprivation. Sure Parker did tend to shoot up straight, but it was a silent sort of panic. As it were, Parker always did his best to make as little noise as possible when leaving the room at such an hour. Sometimes he would wander the grounds, or make his way to the gym to shoot hoops, but tonight he found himself in the student lounge. All was rather quiet. No one but himself in sight. Normal people, slept. Parker the insomniac sat up and contemplated world domination. Or well, not really. He had no desire for power. He was a far too simple soul for such desires. What was the point in having power over others anyways? He would never really understand the appeal.

Suddenly, it was too quiet for Parker. He could not take the soft ticking of the clock or gentle patter of the lingering drizzle of rain. It was suffocating. He snapped from his distant place of contemplation and fumbled around on the table near by for the remote. He needed voices. Well ones that did not suggest he was going insane, anyways. Once the remote was located, Parker readjusted himself on the couch and turned the television on. The noise was welcomed. The first thing to pop on the screen was The Cosby show, which made Parker grimace and quickly change the channel. Taking a few minutes to sort through and change channels until he stumbled upon Beauty and the Beast. A guilty pleasure of his. Catherine Chandler was a goddess. Not that a lady killer like Parker needed any reassuring that a lovely lady like herself could ever love someone like him. He would never succumb to such a cliche insecurity. Or world he? He supposed cliche or not everyone succumbed to different fears or insecurities. It was a part of human nature. Not that he was exactly human. It still applied.

Then, rather peculiarly, the quiet was not so quiet. Parker froze on the spot and listened for a moment. Foot steps were approaching and he was quick to grab back up the remote and change the channel. Of course to his utter embarrassment the next thing to pop up was Baywatch. Where was the horrors of The Cosby Show when he needed it? Growing Pains popped up not long after, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Then setting aside the remote trying to angle himself on the couch in a manner that suggested he had been watching it all along. It was not the most quality show in the world, but he could handle the association with it. Parker liked to think other's opinions of him did not matter. Unfortunately, on some level they kind of did.

[Evan Chadwick O'Neill]

Sharing a dormitory with a vampire was never boring.

Evan Chadwick O'Neill found himself stirring in the middle of the night, though for what reason could not be determined. The blond-haired boy had no need to release his bladder; in fact he felt wide awake as though he had slept for several hours, though such was not the case. Without bothering to go back to sleep, he turned his head in the direction of his room mate's bed, but he saw no familiar lump of Parker Hart's body. Where had the vampire run off to? Glancing toward the bathroom Evan so no light beneath the door . . . though the door itself was open anyway.

This wasn't feeding night, was it? The sixteen-year-old looked down at his left arm, a momentary sense of conditioned soreness occupying the very spot that he always drew blood for his vampire friend. He never doubted what he was doing and never felt awkward about it; if he didn't do it, then Parker would either go on feeding frenzies and hurt someone or control his vampire nature and end up making himself sick to death -- no pun intended. Evan saw nothing wrong with what their friendship entailed, so long as the occasional and routine blood draws were not overdone (which they generally were not).

The junior sat up in his bed, his mind wandering. He debated wandering the school, despite the possibility of being caught and questions being asked, merely to see if Parker was okay. He was wearing the red tee-shirt and grey shorts that he had worn to bed that night, so it wasn't as though he had to do anything special to prepare himself for hallway travel. Besides, he was full of energy, and a good walk would have been a great way to burn it.

Evan pushed away the covers and swung his legs out of bed. Yep. Full of energy. Slipping on only his tennis shoes the boy checked the wristwatch, which he wore at virtually all hours of the day, including during sleep. It wasn't too awful late. School wasn't exactly in session, so it wasn't as though he would need to get up early -- and he doubted that anyone else would be up too awful early, assuming they were actually in the school. Despite his parents deepest desires, the boy often spent the latter half of the summer at Hadley Institute. Parker had plenty of other friends, but the boy still felt that he owed something as a friend to the vampire. Parker had a rough background, and Evan could only imagine experiencing such horrors.

Fortunately, the sound of a television as the junior entered the hallway told him that life was near. This didn't necessarily mean that his room mate occupied the student lounge, but it was the most likely alternative. The TV wasn't so awfully loud that it would wake everyone in the dormitories, but Evan had a certain sense of hearing (courtesy of his years of acting, which required excellent listening capabilities) that told him that he wasn't imagining things. He rounded the corner and, looking past the light of the television and instantly toward the couch, saw who it was for whom he was searching.

Parker seemed rather engrossed in the programme, though Evan wondered just how interested he was in it. Putting his hands behind his head, he walked into the room with a rather dramatic yawn, his crystal blue eyes intent on the other boy. "Top o' the morn'," he joked, allowing his Irish accent to be prominent in his speech. "Fancy seein' ye here at odd hours o' the night."