Remember the Past (Tristan//Open)

[Laila White]

The morning air was slightly colder than usual, but the wind was soft, not like the sharp winds of New York. Her sketch book in a bag that hung over her shoulder, along with pens, pencils, watercolors, and a few paintbrushes. The bag was brillant shade of blue, that matched the blue design of her shirt almost perfectly. Laila had gone with more casul wear, not in her usual high heels and plunging v-neck shirt. Her shoes were simple flats, her skirt wasn't too short, and she had chosen a polo with a 3/4 sleeve. Laila wanted to try and make a good impression on the people at the St. Louis Art Museum, she was going to see if they might put some of her work in the section that was done by the students, and maybe apply for a job, she needed to seem like she cared, which she did, but adults always seemed to treat the kids who were dressed better with more respect.

Laila pulled open the glass door, and nodded to the two men who most have been security guards. This was Laila's first time into the museum, and it was amazing. She had seen the very nice art museums in New York, but she had to admit that this one was very pretty. She breathed in she loved the smell of art museums, the oil paints, old canvas, and the metal or iron in the sculptures that scattered the entryway. The museum reminded her a little of home, Laila knew that she would be spending a lot of time there. She glanced quickly at a map seeing where she would want to head, the second floor seemed to be where most of the contemporary stuff was right now, she wanted to take a look at that, there were also landscapes on that floor, second floor it is, she said to herself. She headed for the direction of the elevator, her hair bouncing lightly behind her.

[Tristan Alexander]

Tristan had had a rough night trying to sleep again, due to the return of his recurring memories and nightmares. He didn't really like telling people about them and had never told any of his past girlfriends, so usually he either drank them away or stayed up all night trying to distract himself. It was evident he hadn't gotten much sleep, for his eyes were bloodshot and half-lidded. For some reason today he'd decided to use a less destructive coping method. Today it had been easier to surround himself with art. He'd practiced on his guitar for a few hours until he knew the museum would be open and had gone as early as the moment it had opened.

For a while he had walked around the museum aimlessly, glancing at the paintings and scultpures. Music was really more of his thing these days, but he still appreciated art now and then, for he still liked partaking in art himself. After a while he'd wandered up to the second floor, laid down on the bench with his headphones blasting and fallen asleep for the first time in hours. Half an hour had gone by and he'd woken to the tune of The Black Parade.

Now he sat upside down on a bench, head touching the floor lightly, hair strewn all over the place. His hoodie hung around him loosely as a different song blasted through his head phones. His legs hung limply across the bench as his hands rested across his stomach. He was staring at a painting upside down, trying to see it from different angles, paying attention to it though he wasn't all there. He yawned once, not appearing to notice anything around him as the music pumped through his ears and his red eyes stared blankly at the painting.

[Laila White]

Beep the elevator signaled that it was on the second floor, the door slid open and Laila stepped out walking across the marble tiled floor. Laila was glad that she hadn't worn heels, they would have drawn more attention to her then she wanted today. She barely made any noise as she walked slowly around the room. Unlike on the first floor, there was some contemporary band playing, but Laila wasn't sure who. The music was soft just meant to be a background noise, part of the exhibit. As she walked around her eyes drifted to the statues, each one its own set of weird shapes, seeming random, but not at the same time. Laila could spend at least thirty minutes looking at one piece, especially the statues since she was never drawn to working with metal herself.

After a while of looking at the piece of work Laila wanted to try some drawing for herself. She choose a bench in a part of the exhibit that didn't have many people walking through it. Her eyes wandered the room looking for a subject for her drawing. She picked a boy, looked like he could have go to Sententia actually. She started drawing the lines for his face, when she stopped mid pencil stroke, it was Tristan. She must not have been paying much attention before, but now that she looked across the room she knew it was him. Laila ripped the page out of her sketch and started to walk towards the exit when her bag slipped off her shoulder onto the floor. Several people looked over at her in annoyance, why, why did my bag have to fall off my shoulder now, she thought in anger as she started to pick up her things.

[Tristan Alexander]

At first, Tristan hadn't really noticed any change around him. There were more people here than before, sure, but his mind hadn't registered them as being of any particular significance. He just needed some peace in a place where his thoughts couldn't follow, and the museum seemed like the most logical place to go especially when he could block people out if he chose to. The music in his ears made it especially easy.

Because he hadn't noticed anyone else around him, he hadn't noticed Laila when she'd shown up. But now he was getting a little bit restless. He'd stared at this particular painting from all the probable angles and it still wasn't making any sense to him, so it was time to pick a new one.

He turned his head sideways, wondering if he should get up off the bench then realized that choosing a different piece would probably require him moving. He was more interested in the art work than the people but for some reason one caught his attention, a girl bent over on the ground as she moved to pick up her things. Tristan blinked for a few moments before he finally recognized her and a slow smile spread across his face.

Who else would it be? He was starting to feel a little bit better already. Seemed like his morning was looking up already. He pushed his hands off the ground to move back onto the bench and glanced around as he sat on it, wondering how many people were really paying attention to him. With that, he made up his mind and walked a fraction of a second faster than a normal person would, trying very hard to keep his powers in check.

Before he knew it, he had bent down and picked up a couple of her pencils, coming up from behind her as he handed them to her, pointed ends in his hand. "Well what happened I wonder? How did your life end up all over the floor?" His smile was warm, yet amused as he spoke, rather entertained by the fact that Laila was here and he now had something to do.

[Laila White]

Her eyes came away from the floor, she went through all of her things but was missing a few pencils she looked up to see that Tristan was handing them to her. She took them out of his hand and put them carefully back into her bag, "Thanks," she said. There wasn't much emotion behind it, but Laila still felt like she had to at least give him that. Laila noticed how it looked like he had just woken, he hair kind of all over the place. Laila stared at him maybe a second to long, not sure of what to say. "Yeah, so do I," she said softly, not really sure to say to his weird question. Laila stood up not really sure what else to say. What do you say to someone who just recently broke up with you.

She knew that she couldn't just leave now. She still wanted to go see about getting a job, but she felt a little flustered at the moment. Then she felt someone tap on her shoulder, a woman who looked to be in her late twenties was handing her the picture she had started to draw, I must have dropped it when my bag fell , she thought. She smiled at the woman, "Oh thank you," she said sweetly, this woman didn't know that she didn't really want the drawing. She turned back to Tristan, "Here you might as well have this," she said handing it to him. She didn't want to have anything to do thing th drawing.

[Tristan Alexander]

Tristan was most certainly weird or unusual when he was sober and hung up on insomnia. It was somewhat reminiscent of his behavior when they'd been going out, when he'd been trying to stay sober and clean and be a normal person, but failed at the third aspect since he was usually loopy and got little sleep.

"Hmm, I wonder.... could I still possibly have you so flustered that you couldn't handle the sight of me and therefore rushed off in an effort to conceal your true feelings and avoid talking to me?" He smirked as he asked the question, blinking rather slowly, before he shook his head violently as though snapping out of some trance. "Nah," he said as he began to yawn, rubbing a hand over his eye. "Being sober is a bitch...." he mumbled to himself, momentarily unaware that he was talking to someone else. Yes, this was truly reminiscent of his behavior when they'd been going out, minus the few bursts of romanticism he'd had now and then. It was unusual to others, including those who had ever been with him, because he never really explained his actions or moods to people, he simply kept them caged inside and came off as weird as a result.

He blinked rapidly a few times as she handed him a piece of paper, zoning back in on reality with the action. He took it with a somewhat puzzled expression as he looked at it, the lines incomprehensible before he recognized the beginnings of a face and nothing more. Yet, it was upside down for some reason... and it took him quite a few minutes before he realized he'd been sitting upside down on the bench only moments before. He grinned and lifted his eyes to Laila's, "I didn't peg you as the stalker artist type."

[Laila White]

Laila looked at the ground, try to hide the fact that she was blushing a bit, she wondered when he started reading emotions, last she could remember he wasn't an empath. She couldn't let him win, "Flustered, by you, yeah you wish," she said a smile playing her lips. She laughed at his next comment, "Oh so what not drunk are we that's unusual for you, why the sudden change?" she asked as she leaned back against one of the columns, Laila herself hadn't had much alcohol, but if she ever did she was sure it was just when she was with Tristan. She just got used to not drinking much cause her parents didn't even drink that much. Now that she looked at him again she wondered how long he had been sober.

Laila instantly knew she shouldn't have given him that picture. Her eyes narrowed slight, her stalk him? "Well your right, I wouldn't have sketched it if I had realized it was you, but you know how it is, sometimes you just lose yourself," she jeered, not wanting him to be able to hold anything against her. She suddenly wondered what had brought him here, he had never wanted to go to the museum with her, but she didn't want to get into a real conversation with him so she let it go.

[Tristan Alexander]

Tristan was in a word, obtuse, especially where his exes were concerned. It was hard to understand people you'd never really had a connection with in the first place. When he'd said the bit about her being too flustered to face him, he hadn't really believed a word of it, he was simply teasing her, trying to provoke her. His expression faded into one of boredom and fatigue, sheer exhaustion even as she responded. It was taking him a bit longer than usual to process what she was saying but a few moments after 'yeah you wish,' the right corner of his mouth lifted upward into a tiny smirk.

The smirk was gone as soon as it had showed up however, especially after she began mocking his sober state. Honestly? He didn't really know what was wrong with him. Alcohol would have given him a good night's rest, like it always had. Why hadn't he just drank himself to sleep? Deep down, he felt the answer was within him somewhere but he was currently too self-absorbed to see it, buried too deeply in his own misery. He narrowed his eyes at Laila, unwilling to giver her any sort of leverage or power over him, so he would not admit any of this allowed. His eyes glanced away as he responded sarcastically, "I'm sure that's what you would want. You'd want me drunk so you could throw me on the floor and take advantage of me," he said in a voice that sounded heavily laced with suspicion. Tristan giggled to himself, a little light headed from the lack of sleep. He didn't even really know what he was saying.

"Lai! You don't need me drunk for that to happen." He spread his arms out as far as they would go. "Take me, I'm yours!" The proposition might have been slightly more convincing if he hadn't been giggling the entire time, grinning ridiculously from ear to ear.

Tristan shut his eyes for a moment or two then lifted his paper back in his line of sight as though he'd forgotten he'd been holding it. "Well your right, I wouldn't have sketched it if I had realized it was you, but you know how it is, sometimes you just lose yourself."

"I know...." he muttered in what nearly sounded like a serious response as he stared at the paper. Less than a moment later he brought a finger up and began pointing at the paper. "Why not just finish it though and hand it in for a proper critique? Afraid?" He arched an eyebrow at her then narrowed his eyes as he stared at the sketch she'd barely begun. "The jaw is a liiiittle too thin here, and...well. It's not finished."

[Laila White]

Laila expression changed to shock within a second. She quickly looked around, she could tell people were try not to start at them. She was quite angry at him, although a few months before she would have taken him up on that offer. "I can't believe you, can't you talk a little more quietly," she said in a harsh whisper. That wasn't a decline to the offer she realized, she didn't hate him that much, "Well," she said trailing off realizing she shouldn't give him anything that he would be able to hold against her. How could he call her Lai, barely anyone ever called her that, she probably been drunk with him when that nickname first got started, "Please don't call me Lai," she hissed at him.

She rarely got angry but she felt angry now, "Yeah, why don't you try to do any better, but you were always a little to drunk to hold a pencil when a was around, but you know your not drunk now so why don't you try," he said. Laila fished a pencil out of her bag and throw it at him, "Here," she said turning to walk away. She felt stupid to have acted like that but he was being, awful.

[Tristan Alexander]

Tristan snorted as she threw the pencil at him, surprised at her sudden outburst as the pencil hit him in the chest and fell to the ground. He didn't bother to pick it up, he simply remained where he was standing, giggling for a few more moments as he hunched over, hands on his knees. Once he saw that Laila had walked away from him, he tried to calm his laughing fit, and only when he thought he had it under control did he follow her. He jogged a few steps to catch up to her, not wanting to use his powers in such a public place. He wasn't really aware that they were being watched, he just knew better than to make such a public demonstration.

Tristan kept pace walking beside Laila as he put his hands in his pockets. He shut off his zune at this point, all his attention focused on her. A small smile was on his face as he whispered, leaning in close to her "Okay, okay I'm sorry. I'll use my indoor voice. And I won't call you Lai. Unless I'm screaming your name."

He continued to walk beside her silently for a few moments, a cocky smirk on his face, waiting for the retaliation. As he continued to walk beside her he said, "So is this really about me being drunk all the time? Cause clearly I'm not drunk now.... Are we going back to your place or mine then?" He said, watching her from the corner of his eye, adding a wink at the end of his question.

[Laila White]

As she walked away she knew that he wouldn't just let her, but she wondered how far she was going to get. Suddenly glad she hadn't worn heels she picked up her pace quickly glancing at a near by map to see where she should go. It wasn't long before she heard his steps fall in pace with hers, and she cast him a look, "Well good," even if she wanted Laila didn't think she could sound cruel with Tristan. Laila was frustrated with how he had been, but she should she expect from him? She wondered if she should still try to talk to the manager, or whoever she should talk to about getting a job, but she decided against not wanting have to deal with that at the moment.

Laila didn't stop walking to talk to him, instead she headed toward the sculpture part of the museum wanting to still try and look at some art. She didn't look at Tristan as she answered his next question, "You know I don't care about you being drunk," she paused she really hadn't cared that much even when they had been going out. Laila wondered how he could keep his life together with his many girlfriends, and his partying. "You know, I thought you were the one who broke it off," Laila said, ignoring the question he had asked, even though she caught his wink at the end.

[Tristan Alexander]

Tristan grinned, noting her increased speed thought it was only less than a fraction of a notch to him. This was one of the few instances he really enjoyed having his powers. No matter how quickly she walked, it would still feel like a snail's pace to him. He rolled his shoulders as he kept up with her with ease. He laughed at her response. "Well good, you want me screaming out your name? May I then ask for a time and a place?"

He really didn't know why he acted this way around her, especially right now. Part of it had to be that he was tired. The other part was definitely that it was just fun. He didn't really feel like he had any motives, even though he kept making innuendo-jokes... It was all in fun, though he wouldn't be complaining if things went that route. All in all, it was a nice distraction, having her around. No nightmares could chase him when he wasn't thinking about them.

Tristan arched an eyebrow at Laila's final statement. He wasn't really paying attention to where they went at this point, it made no difference to him. He was more focused on what she was saying. He tilted his head slightly, confused. "I broke it off?" He ground his teeth in his mouth for a few moments as he thought about it.

"Was I drunk?" he laughed. He couldn't honestly recall. He couldn't even gather the memory of their break up forward. He was really drawing a blank.

He tried to reason with himself, why he would break up with a girl like Laila. Eventually a smile spread across his face as he slowly began to remember, the statement she'd said about her not minding his drunken states aiding his memory. He still didn't remember the actual day they broke up, but he was remembering potential reasons. Including her being fine with his being drunk.

Whenever he drank, or got high in the past, those were the moments he hated himself the most. He felt like nothing more than a coward who couldn't face his problems like a man, and hid in a bottle to keep them at bay. Anyone who facilitated his cowardliness instantly lost a couple of attraction points in his eyes. Tristan frowned slightly.

[Laila White]

Laila laughed at his statement about him being drunk, and his question about him breaking it off. She hadn't know Tristan that long, but she had always wondered why they had stopped going out. She had thought they had been an okay couple, and the night wasn't very clear in her mind, and she was sure she hadn't had anything to drink that night, but she remembered that sometime the brain blocked out painful memories for people.

Laila lost in her thoughts had forgotten her course and started wondering toward the exit. She still hadn't realized where she was till she was almost at the door. She looked up out of her dazed and mumbled a silent, "oh." She turned around and started to walk in the other direction. Laila casually glanced back over at Tristan. Why was he frowning? she wondered. Laila couldn't help but worry about him. Laila thought about how she could possibly feel worried about Tristan, he had broken her heart and was now being an annoyance, why would she feel worried about him? Tristan had been one of her only boyfriends, maybe that was part of it, maybe she still had feelings for him.

[Tristan Alexander]

Tristan arched an eyebrow as Laila laughed at his question. He guessed since he had laughed slightly, she'd thought he meant it to be funny. "No, really..." he said. "Was I?" He gave her a puzzled look. Though he couldn't remember the actual event, the moment he'd broken up with Laila, the reasons were slowly filtering back to him. He rolled his shoulders as he tried to push the memories aside. It's complicated, he told himself. No one knew who he really was or what his past had been like. But it wasn't as though he'd shared with anyone. He never delved past his surface when he'd been in relationships in the past, and nobody had triggered that urge in him to make him want to reveal himself.

Tristan walked silently beside her for a few moments before they reached the exit, the frown disappearing slowly. As he began to smile again, she turned back around and headed back into the museum. Tristan chuckled and asked, "Where are you going...exactly? Aimless walking is fun and all,but..."

He stopped and glanced around for a moment, a long yawn taking over for a few moments. "What are we doing here anyway?" He had stopped walking all together. He glanced at his watch, wondering if it was too early to hit a bar or liquor store. He lifted his eyes back to Laila and smirked, tilting his head toward the exit. "Want to go get a drink for old times' sake?"

It was a sudden, unusual shift in gears for Tristan. He hadn't been...well less annoying in quite some time. Maybe it was the fatigue setting in, or maybe he just genuinely felt like being nice.