Killobyte (IL) (angels and I)

[Cisala Elden]

Laylia Chirag

Laylia prodded at a random tuft of grass with her bare foot as she tried to get her thoughts in order. There were three things she knew for sure. One, she was pregnant. Two, she was certain that it was her boyfriend's child and or children. And three, there was no way she could see Ivelin until she had given birth. Or possibly even ever. She was already beginning to show as only a month or so and if Ivelin ever found out he would defiantly leave her. He was a rich boy and she was just some girl trying to slide by in life. He had a future and she couldn't6 even see herself anywhere important in the next ten years. Also he was two and a half years younger then her. That was a problem as well. He was a teenage boy and no doubt he looked to party. What boy in his late teens didn't? How could she expect to take that away from Ivelin because she decided to quit taking the pill?

She would never try to hold Ivelin back. Anyways this wasn't his fault. It was her problem and she was going to suck it up and deal with it. With a little help from Papa Bear of course. Rosiie was just an amazing friend. When ever any of her friends needed help she was always there to assist them. She had even gone so far as to give Laylia a place to stay because her aunt kicked her out seeing as how she was useless to her now. "What am i going to do now?" She asked aloud almost hoping that an answer would come out of no where. She couldn't just stay with Rosiie for the rest of her life. That just wouldn't be right and knowing what Rosiie had planned for Fil she knew that there wasn't going to be a whole lot of room left in her Papa Bear's place. So she had to get out of there soon... Maybe she could go back to china? Her family would like that. Plus her grandmother would love the fact that she will have great-grandchildren. That would also make her grandfather happy he was always telling her that she should put her 'birthing hips' to good use and to go out and find herself a man. Well one out of two wasn't wasn't so bad. She did put her hips to good use.

She watched as her friends Aslion and Seveny left the park. She was jealous of their relationship. Neither of them had to worry about getting pregnant, or their time of the month. They just got to do what ever they wanted, when they wanted to do it. Though she knew that there was no real love between those two. Aslion had said so himself. There was just a weird closeness that went as far as sex and maybe a little more but that was it. Atleast she loved Ivelin and she hoped that he returned her feelings. But the possibility of that being true was very unlikely. She was just a pretty face that was there to please those around her. Her aunt, and all of her friends had only told her this countless times before so it must have been true. What else was she if not a pretty face? And pretty soon she wouldn't even be that much she would just be some fat, pregnant chic who couldn't keep a boyfriend no matter how much she tried. God was life a b***h.

 

[angels_and_blindfolds]

Ivelin Dennet

Ivelin was the son of the third-best legal advisor in the city. At least, the widely-spread third-best; certainly paid the third-best amount, though whether that was by preference or skill level, none could truly know. The two of them, Ivelin and his father, lived a very rich and luxurious life, and had been living like that for nearly ten years, though they had only started coming into wealth about five years back. Alexander started getting paid more - and more - until he considered himself fit to hold the wallets of the top two advisors as they betted on which would win the coveted title of "paid the most money in one year". Of course, a little went to the man who arranged it - the Dennet fortune would never run out, and that was a wonderful thing. Ivelin could afford his good taste in clothes and jewellery; he could afford to keep the things he liked and toss the things he didn't, and that proved very useful indeed when it came to school, because no one could truly criticise him in his choices without it being some kind of superficial rumour, trying to sink his reputation as the self-centred, unintelligent narcissist. He had very carefully built that up and, while some might have been true out of that, he did care about his friends. He just didn't make friends very easily.

He still wasn't quite sure how he'd ended up with Laylia. She had always been the girl he strived to impress; since they had met, nearly six years before, he had been rather eager to catch her attention. That had, after all, been the inspiration for him to start crossdressing again at age twelve. It had been a hobby of his until eleven, but wearing a skirt could definitely manage to get a girl's eye. Especially when he had been feminine enough to pass as a girl; now he was lucky if someone didn't recognise him as "that Dennet boy". He might not have been the most influential heir in New York, but he was certainly somewhere in the top twenty. And he wasn't even eighteen yet, while some of the people on that list could be in their thirties and still waiting to inherit their family's fortune. He knew - blissfully - that Lisle Turann, the father of one of his better friends, was somewhere on that list above him as the slated heir to the fortune of his great-aunt. That money would be gone in a fortnight; that family could barely save a penny.

So yes, he was a rich, self-centred spoilt brat. But he loved his girlfriend, and he would never give up on her. He paced in circles around a sapling in the park, trying to keep a speculative eye on Laylia - yes, yes, he'd seen her, and he was fairly sure she hadn't seen him. He was debating his decisions, twirling one of his three rings, the one he'd stolen from on top of his father's dresser. That man's room confused him to no end - there were pictures of a woman that must have been Ivelin's mother, or some other equally-important relative to Alexander, but he had never been told about her. Mostly everything in there was spotlessly clean, while the rest of the house regularly fell to dust. The last time more than one room had been cleaned at a time was when they had needed to bleach the blood off the floor in the second-story hallway and down the stairs to the entry hall. They never went back far enough to use the spiral staircase anyway, unless they wanted to get up to the attic. Why keep a huge house clean when only two people lived in it?

Right now he was debating a similar question with himself. Why keep a relationship going at the same calibre when they were clearly - to him, at least - more serious about it than just a casual pair of high schoolers? For one, Laylia was in college, so that analogy was thrown out the window right away, but people still tried to pull up that they were both teenagers. Ivelin had discussed this option time and again with some of his more distant friends, the more accepting ones at that, and those who protested against it did use the argument you're a teenager, dude, chill the ******** out. No, no, he would not chill the ******** out. He would do exactly what he'd meant to do.

He slipped the ring off his finger skilfully and clenched it tightly in one hand. This by no means left him devoid of jewellery; he still had his pair of arm bands, his other two rings, and a pair of studs he'd decided to wear today, just to complete the feeling that he would not be going at this without most of his effort behind it. His hair was dishevelled, he looked generally messy and tired, but he would do his best and attempt to convince Laylia -

No, no he wouldn't. The ring slipped back onto his finger, and he crossed his arms, ceasing the pacing in favour of tapping his foot on the ground nervously and watching the grass grow. Ivelin finally glanced back up and over at where his girlfriend was, deciding that no, he would let it rest for a bit, and maybe he would talk it over with some closer friends. Someone closer, someone who could tell him how she might receive it, someone else, just so he wouldn't be too nervous when it came down to it. Now, though, he at least had to talk to her. He hadn't seen her in a while, and it was honestly murdering him not to be able to speak with her. So he set off towards her, setting a careful and leisurely pace that only the privileged kids would know, the look that said they didn't care if they were late for class because they could buy their way into any college they wanted anyway. "My lady," Ivelin called, waving once to catch her attention and then letting himself simply smile. "Laylia, how are you? Feeling better?" Still at a distance. Hopefully, though, it wasn't that she had been avoiding him... The thought made him cringe internally, and he was glad of the self-constraint he'd developed. Barely a twinge of hesitation showed on the outside.