MC - CHP 17 pt 1Chapter Seventeen – Nuit BlancheMC - CHP 17 pt 1 by *Eeba-ism
I tried not to mess with my hair, but I just knew it was sneaking out of place.
Despite my persistence, the back of my head would undoubtedly look how always does: like I’d spent about half an hour rubbing it with a balloon.
The hall was set up with tables and chairs, but mostly everyone was standing, conversing and nursing plastic cups of soft drink. I noted a podium and a projection screen; doubtless there would be speeches at some point, and probably a photo montage or commemorative video (the kind that was made by the most outgoing and extracurricular students, and whatever footage they’d pieced together was guaranteed to feature only themselves).
Behind me, I heard Xeeva mention Farrere.
‘What?’ I turned to her.
‘I was just saying I bet Farrere would think this was the tackiest thing since...’ she grinned, searching for an example.
‘Black layered under lighter neutrals or colours?’
MC - CHP 17 pt 2Chapter Seventeen continued:MC - CHP 17 pt 2 by *Eeba-ism
Farrere stood against his bench, chewing his thumbnail.
His curtains were open and the city lights were haunting him, like the lures of a thousand angler fish. He felt like he was out there with them, swimming against the darkness, drowning despite his efforts.
His breathing would quicken unless he kept it consciously in check – he was hungry, but he didn’t want to eat. He thought about making tea, and realised what he wanted most of all was a cigarette. Or five.
He’d almost convinced himself to don several jackets and brave the cold to walk to the nearest all-night service station, but he walked to the mouth of his hallway instead. He stared down its black expanse like it was the boundless, echoing gullet of some monstrous spectre.
He pushed his fingers through his fringe and headed for a door, opening it with all the surety he didn’t feel. He tapped the light switch, wanting to see the thickening dust and upsetting clutter,