Lazy pathetic RP for Polo and Girleh to kill time they don't have. :P

"That's right..." Blake whispered quietly in response to her first words. "So she really is-" But he broke off, partially because he did not want to say it, and partially because the girl had begun speaking again. This time, he listened. To some extent, anyway.
The more the spoke, the deeper the spike of sympathy jabbed into Blake's heart - slowly awakening his logic, his pity.
Then he saw her standing on the edge, and the spike twisted like a knife in a wound, dragging him to his feet.
"Wait!" He gasped, grabbing her hand and holding her in a powerful grip. "Haven't I lost enough?" He asked in a dull whisper, his heartache such that all emotion seemed to have been drained clean out of him. "Don't throw your life away so carelessly, Nevada..."
"You can't..."
Libby...
And with that thought, consciousness left him, and Blake collapsed on the dirty roof, a faint pool of blood welling around his arm. The thin layer of skin over his wound had split, without the desperate will to live that was holding it together.
It would have to heal at its natural pace now.
After all, Libby was gone. His heart had been ripped in two. He was an incomplete human, so what was the point of him? A shell without a soul...

Completely dead to the world, Blake simply hung limply as the girl carried him to Goodness-knows-where. He was not aware of anything as he lay there, completely helpless, destroyed by his despair.
He came to briefly when she stopped outside the house, and remained conscious just long enough to note that he did not recognise the house... And that she was carrying him. A faint flush of heat crept into his cheeks at this realisation, but Blake simply let consciousness drift away from him again - half passed out, and half sleeping. He just didn't want to face reality... Anything was better than that.
And still, the wound continued to bleed.
Blake slept for three days straight after that - not bothering to wake at all. When he did, he simply pretended to be asleep until sleep claimed him once more. Apart from the steady heartbeat, and his quiet breathing, he might have gone down the same path as his beloved.
Finally, on the fourth day since arriving, Blake let his eyes slide open. He stared blankly around the house - looking, but not seeing. He didn't want to see. Without Libby, the world wasn't worth seeing... The colour had been drained from it.
Blake's once handsome face was now gaunt, and greyed with stubble. His bright, gleaming eyes wee dull and lifeless. Yet the most apparent change of all was in his personality. He took interest in nothing, he reacted to nothing. It was as though he had no soul left.
[/i]And still, the wound refused to heal.[/i]

Blake's dull eyes followed the girl as she walked past him, heading toward the door. He doubted she'd noticed he was awake. Perhaps he'd just go back to sleep again... It was easier that way...
"You." He murmured quietly, his hoarse voice directed toward the girl. "Name... What's your name?" His words were somewhat slurred by exhaustion and lack of motivation, yet Blake's question was clear enough nonetheless. He thought he had heard the name from her brother, but- It only seemed right that she should tell him herself. He wasn't sure why it was so important... It just was.
He felt bad.
He felt terrible for everything he had put her through... She didn't deserve it. But still. Her brother had taken Libby away... Had he not taken Libby, none of this would have happened. Blake would still have been himself... The way he was now, he barely recognised himself.

"Neva... Huh?" Blake repeated thoughtfully, his quiet words soon fading into nothingness as he let sleep claim him once again.
Yet even as he drifted off, Blake could not help but wonder... Blood? How could he have lost blood...? He was not injured.
Was it perhaps true, what he felt? That somebody had ripped open his chest with a chainsaw, and cleaved his heart clean out of it, leaving him with nothing but a painful, gaping black hole within.
Hmph, how dramatic. He had not fallen so low that he would believe such nonsense. It was all just a sick game his mind was playing with him... That was why he did as Neva commanded, and rested. He could not find room in his grievously infatuated heart to see that she, too, was suffering... And to summon sympathy for her, when he hurt so much himself. It was a wonder to him that he could still be alive with this pain...
For days longer, Blake slept - showing no indication of waking again. The brief window during which he had been conscious had been just that: A window.
Yet now, he opened it again. It was just two days later, and Blake's eyes slowly flickered open again - dull as every before. Only this time, something was different. He did not just stare blankly at the ceiling above him. No, he was looking for something. Searching for Neva.

"Neva?" Blake called groggily, wincing slightly at the loud sound of his own voice - shattering the silence he had become so used to. "You okay?" He questioned, though for the most part he did not really care. He was slightly concerned about her. He wished he could feel more... But he could not. Not with the loss of Libby so raw and fresh within him. She had been everything to him... His entire life. It was like waking up one day, and being told that you had died. That all that remained was your empty shell... What was the point in continuing with life, then?

Satisfied with her answer, Blake was about to roll over and slip back into his slumber when he realised that Neva was standing by the door. "I didn't wake you, did I?" Her gentle words washed over him, and once again Blake felt a stab of guilt for putting her through all this. She shouldn't have to suffer... She shouldn't have to look after him - just because he was moping. It wasn't her fault Libby was-
Libby...
Blake closed his eyes and looked away, then slowly opened them again and stared unseeingly at the opposite wall, his back facing Neva. "No, not at all." He replied quietly in response to her question, his voice dull and toneless. "Say, Neva..." He added suddenly, "I was thinking... You look pretty wiped out. Maybe it's time I went back to my place... Give you some space to recover..." He trailed off vaguely, making the suggestion only half heartedly, and not really caring about her response. Whether he stayed here, or whether he left, it was all the same to him. Perhaps it would be easier if he could mourn alone... Without this guilt pressing down on his back.
Either way, he was not too bothered by it. Nothing bothered him, now that Libby was gone...

You don't look fine. Blake thought to himself, his eyes narrowing in brief concern at Neva's words. Yet he said nothing. It was not his place to speak. "Neva, wait." Blake said quietly as she began to leave, not completely sue why he was calling her back. Yet he did it, anyway.
Without saying anything else, Blake rolled onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling. His eyes, once so bright and lively, now seemed cold and dead as stone in his face. A definite shadow of stubble coated his chin now, and overall, Blake was a mess. He looked nothing like the handsome, cheerful boy from before. No... That boy had died with Libby.

Neva-
"yes?" I asked as i was called back curious as to why. He hadn't shown interest. Why now? I sighed heavily thinking everything over carefully

"I don't know..." He murmured quietly, speaking in perfect honesty. After all, he had no clue why he had called her back... Why...? "Just... Are you- Are you sure you're okay? I was worried..."
Worried.
Why was anything in the world worth worrying about, now Libby was gone?
Though he asked himself that, he knew it was true. He was worried about Neva. He had already lost Libby... Somehow, he just did not want to lose her, too.

Blake sighed and returned his gaze to the ceiling again when Neva left, half glad to be alone again, and half burning with loneliness. Yet he had a feeling that loneliness would remain no matter how many people he surrounded himself with. That gaping hole was left by one person in particular, and nobody else could fill it.
Tears filled Blake's eyes at the thought of Libby, but he blinked them back irritably. He was done crying. It would not bring her back, after all...
Presently, he heard voices in the other room, and Blake tilted his head so that his eyes rested upon the door. He could get up and see what was happening... But what was the point? Why should he ever get up again? He had no reason to...
Libby was gone.
At this thought, Blake felt a sudden desire to be alone wash over him. A thirst for the familiar. His own house, his own bed, his own life... And of course, his own company. To be isolated, shut away from the world. That was what he wanted... After all, this world had nothing to offer him any more.
With dull-eyed acceptance, Blake swung himself clumsily out of the bed, staggering to his feet and struggling to find his balance on legs weakened by their week of rest. Too bad. He was going home.
Blake took a moment to steady his pathetic limbs, then walked toward the door and stepped out. He knew he ought to say goodbye, and thank Neva, but solitude was calling him. Still, it was no excuse to be rude... With a frustrated sigh, Blake forced himself to listen to the sound of Neva's voice, and follow it toward the general direction of the sitting room.

Hovering by the door, Blake could not help but overhear what Neva was saying. Nay, yelling. So... She really did like him, huh...?
Blake's shoulder slumped, and he leaned back against the wall - thinking and pondering over what had been said. If he remembered correctly she had admitted it before, but he had been too distraught to listen, then. The shock had worn off now... But the grief and the pain were still raw. He did not expect his heart would ever heal. He had given it to her, after all... Perhaps she had taken it with her.
Blake sighed, running his fingers through his hair, then pulling a revolted face at the greasy feeling, and dropping them back to his sides. He needed a shower, desperately. And a shave, no doubt... But really, what was the point? He simply didn't have the motivation to do anything... But what on earth was he doing feeling sorry for himself, when poor Neva was clearly in a state?! It was time for him to get over himself and actually put in a little bit of effort himself. What she saw in him after the way he had been acting, he simply could not comprehend.
With a bitter sigh, Blake stepped quietly into the room and crept to Neva's side. Tentatively, he reached out and touched his hand to her shoulder. "Come on." He said simply, forcing a friendly smile onto his face, despite the fact that he felt his cheeks would surely crack. "I want to show you something." He lifted his hand from her shoulder,then offered his palm to help her to her feet. It was clear he was trying his utmost best to keep a friendly expression plastered on his face, but he was struggling. He felt dead inside. Nothing but Neva kept him trying. Some combination of concern and gratitude somehow invoked in him a potent desperation to do something to uplift the girl who had done so much for him. He could never reflect her feelings for him... But he could do this, at least.

Blake pressed his face into a vague attempt at a reassuring expression as he closed his hand gently around Neva's, and helped her to her feet. She had said nothing, and that suited him just fine. It was as if she knew what to do to make things easier for him... Perhaps she did. She was different, after all. An angel... Right?
No. Libby was his angel.
But there was a difference, he knew that. Brushing his thoughts irritably to one side, Blake maintained a light grasp on Neva's hand and lead her to the door. It was true that he did not know this neighbourhood, but his sense of direction had always been uncannily good. He would know where he was going.
Once outside, Blake paused a moment to get his bearings - the magnitude of the situation almost overwhelming him. Outside... Out in the world... Without Libby.
Once again, Blake forced the thoughts aside. There was a time for grieving and mourning, but it was not now. Now was a time for helping out a friend, which was what he would do.
Blake stepped briskly down the street, the cool night air chilling him to the bone, yet somehow comforting him. He walked on, his eyes wide and alert, yet still lacking their usual spark. Suddenly, he turned off the road onto a little side street, and crossed directly across it - soon finding himself staring up at the familiar bulk of a big, grassy hill. He tightened his grasp on Neva's hand slightly, and lead her silently up - scaling the hill effortlessly with long, powerful strides.
As he reached the top, Blake's eyes darted instantly to the sky. The stars were brilliant here - shining with more clarity than anywhere else in the city. The milky way splashed across the dark velvet of the sky like the swab of a paintbrush, and individual stars shone brightly like lone rangers all around, twinkling merrily in hues of a million different colours. It was like something out of a fairy tale... Blake stared breathlessly at the sky a moment longer, then let his gaze trail down. At the bottom of the hill was a peaceful little stream, flowing placidly along in trickling tranquility with the brilliance of the stars above reflected on its surface. Starting from the back, and stretching right up to the hill where he stood, flowers bloomed wildly. They seemed almost magical in the moonlight, the pale white of their petals gleaming a glorious silver where star light struck. "Pull up a seat." Blake offered, finally turning to Neva with a teasing smile, then flopping down into the long grass, sitting there with the sweet scent of the flowers surrounding him. He felt at peace here, and for a while, the smile lingered easily on his lips.

Neva's offer sounded over and over in Blake's mind, repeating endlessly, echoing back and forth of the lining of his skull. With every passing moment he felt his heartbeat quicken more and more, until he was afraid the flow of blood might burst his veins. Some part of him wanted to leap at the offer, to cling to every moment he could spend with Libby, even after death... But his more logical half saw that it was wrong. Not just wrong, but cruel. To dangle false hope in front of him... She was NEVER coming back, yet he could not make himself stop hoping... And now this? Just who was Neva kidding if she thought he was strong and stable enough to cope with something like this...? It was like having Libby stolen away all over again! Couldn't she see he did not want to talk about Libby?! Or, more specifically, that he did not want her to bring up the topic of Libby before he was ready for it.
Blake felt his jaw clench, and the fury boiling at the back of his mind warned him just as he was about to unleash a cruel tongue lashing on Neva. She's just trying to help... He reminded himself firmly, but it did not make much difference. He offer had been cruel.
Not trusting himself to speak, Blake simply stood and walked away without a single word. He stumbled carefully down the hill, walking straight through the stream, not seeming to care at all when the bottoms of his jeans were soaked.