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

Blake stumbled and tripped through the stream, finally loosing his balance and falling when he reached the other side. He caught himself on his arms before he hit the ground, but instead of getting up, he simply flipped over onto his back, and folded his arms behind his head. He stared blankly up into the beautiful sky overhead. Libby was up there now...
Idiot. Those're just stars in the sky. You know that.
It was true... He did know. But he wanted so desperately to believe Libby was still with him... He could not get Neva's offer out of his head. To speak with Libby again... No. No, it was wrong... He had struggled enough letting go and accepting reality the first time. The second time would be worse... He'd just end up in the loony bin again, only this time he'd know he deserved it...

Neva-
I sighed gently thinking about my own stupidity before i groaned. I didn't want to do this. I slowly made my way to the stream. My steps silent before i sat beside him, "I know what your going through. I know my offer was a risk but it's the only way i cope with the loss of my mother. She was who i was talking to earlier." I spoke softly, thinking my words over as i lapsed into silence. Was it worth my efforts to talk to him. Try to not fall in any deeper than i had...

Blake slowly turned his head to stare up at Neva, his dull eyes turning an opaque, milky white in the reflection of the moon. "You're stronger than I am." Blake stated simply. Saying nothing else, he turned his gaze back to the stars overhead, his eyes returning to a dull hazel when the reflected light left them. "But thanks, anyway..." He added quietly, mumbling the words in a barely coherent voice. Blake was still and silent for a while, calming himself, and when he spoke again his voice was soft and clear.
"Look at the sky." He stated gently, raising a hand and gesturing to the endless sheet of velvet, sprinkled with a million brilliant pinpricks of light. "I used to come up here sometimes when I needed to think. You looked like you needed to clear your head..." He trailed off, lapsing into silence again as he lost the will to explain his motives. What was the point? His intentions in bringing Neva here may have been good, but it had just ended up the same as back at the house. Him lying around and selfishly moping in self pity, and her trying to fix him, even though he was already too far gone.

"Several times-" Blake began thoughtfully repeating what Neva had said, then suddenly turned his head to face her, sitting up abruptly and staring at her with a rare flame of hope in his eyes. Once again, all reasoning had left him, and Blake felt only a cruel desperation to hear Libby's voice once more... "You mean- You mean I could actually talk to her? Like, on a regular basis?" Blake's words sped up in excitement, and before he knew what he was doing, he had shifted closer to Neva and taken a firm grip on her shoulder. "So it would just be like a long distance relationship, right? right?" He pressed, shaking Neva slightly, completely without realising it. "Tell me! Please... Tell me how I can see her!" Blake had both his hands on Neva's shoulders now, and it seemed he was mere inches from trying to shake the answer from her. It was the same thing all over again. The hope, that crazed denial... It completely robbed him of any reasoning skills he'd ever had, and even of his sanity. He could think of one thing and one thing only: Libby.

Blake shook his head rapidly, refusing to hear what Neva was saying. "No... No! Let me talk to her. I have to talk to her! If we can just talk... She'll tell me how I can bring her back. I know she will! She wants to be with me!" Blake's words were flying from his lips in maddened desperation. His eyes bulged, and his fingers tightened on Neva's shoulders. "You can't keep us apart!" He hissed, "Nothing can ever keep us apart! Now tell me! Tell me!" Blinded by desperation, Blake sprung to his feet, glaring threateningly down at Neva. He was desperate now. Desperate enough to start getting violent. This was how he had ended up in that asylum.

Libby, dead... Libby, gone... Murdered... All over again. Consumed by grief, Blake fell forwards, catching himself on his hands. Neva was gone now, too... Gone... And good riddance. Who did she think she was, dangling Libby before him on a string like that?! And she claimed that she cared for him... Well, he was not about to believe that. What else had she lied about? Was she even a real angel, or had it all been some sort of hoax? He didn't care. He didn't car about anything any more... Not without Libby.
At that thought, Blake broke down. His arms buckled, and he found himself lying down on the cold ground, his body completely hidden by the tall grass stretching up around him. The loss of Libby throbbed through him, raw and painful, and before Blake knew it, tears were streaming down his face. He touched his sodden cheeks, then clenched his fist around the salty dampness and sobbed bitterly into the ground, wishing that a hole would just open below him and swallow him up.

Neva-
Guilt swollowed me up. I bit my lip looking away. He had a choice. Me or Libby. I knew the answer and didn't want to face up to it. It's why i didn't tell him. I didn't have the strength and there was every chance i would die if i made a connection now. Humans were more difficult than adeth's the master

As Blake lay there, just one thought ran repeatedly through his mind, again and again. He had to get away...
Standing up slowly, Blake gazed around the familiar landscape, suddenly unable to see the beauty of it. Even the moon looked dull.
With a resigned sigh, he turned and walked away - heading back to his house - the place he had lived before the accident...
Once at home, Blake collapsed onto his bed. The place was dusty... Obviously not used in a good couple of years, but Blake didn't care. He coughed slightly at the dust rising up, then fell back against the pillows.
Taking the remote from his bedside table, Blake flicked the TV on and watched.
And watched.
And watched.
Eventually, minuted bled into hours, and hours into days. He didn't eat. He didn't leave the bed, yet he barely slept. Before long, the days had added up and week had passed, without any change. The frame of Blake's skeleton was visible, even through his clothes, and there was sickly green-grey hue to his stubbled face. He was wasting away... Yet he either did not notice, or he did not care. This was his life now. It was meaningless... He was only alive because he didn't have the courage to die. He was weak. He always had been.

The TV blared. It was terribly loud, yet Blake barely heard it - for he was not really listening. He had seen every program and every re-run a dozen times, and now he watched it only because he didn't know what else to do. Staring mindlessly at the screen like a zombie, he did not have to think... Nor feel. It was the only way he survived.
Staring square-eyed at the screen, Blake raised his can of beer to his lips and took a sip. Dozens more empty cans and bottles littered the floor around him now. When he had started losing interest in the television shows, he had taken to drinking instead. It had worked, for it had made him drowsy and comfortable - almost allowing him to forget... Though it had become something of a habit now, and Blake was seldom seen without a beer can in hand. He didn't know what to do with his hands, otherwise.
"Open up!" The voice on the television sounded angry. What show was this, again? He had forgotten what was happening... "Don't make me break down this door Blake." Ah yes, he remembered that line. This was the part where-
Wait...
Blake?! That was his name!
Suddenly confused, Blake showed the first sign of life he had shown in a while, sitting up and twisting his body to stare toward the door - where he could now hear an impatient knocking ringing - punctuating the words of the angry, Italian voice as it went on. "Or would you rather kill an innocent person?!"
This accusation truly shocked Blake, but after just a moment it had worn off. He didn't really care about anything at the moment, so it was difficult to pay attention for long. Besides, he had got into a habit of letting those sort of dramatic lines wash over him with all the TV he had been watching.
Not to mention he was just a little drunk.
Beer clutched in hand, Blake scrambled clumsily out of the bed and tottered unsteadily toward the door, stumbling every other step and sloshing beer all over his already stained white T-shirt. He did not even seem to notice. His feet were enclosed in tattered old slippers, and they shuffled noisily as he dragged himself over the floor, swaying from side to side. His once athletic legs now looked rather scrawny where the silk boxers he wore exposed them.
Finally, Blake stumbled over to the door, grasped the handle, and swung it open.
"Whattoyouwan?" He inquired drunkenly, his words terribly slurred from a combination of lack of use, alcohol, exhaustion and lack of motivation. He squinted at the girl, her image sliding in and out of focus in eyes that had learned to focus only on a screen. "Why're you 'ere?" He asked again, his words slightly more coherent this time, yet still not making much sense. The beer in the can he held sloshed quietly as Blake swayed from side to side - seeming as though he was about to keel over. His hair was now long and matted - a short beard springing up on his face. He was certainly no longer the handsome boy he had been before. No... He looked exactly like what he was: A wasted old loser, gone completely to seed.

"Wha-?" Blake's mouth dropped open, and he blinked stupidly at the girl before him, a completely shocked expression on his face. "Neva..." He murmured thoughtfully, frowning as though trying to remember something. "Yeah... Is she- She's- What's wrong with her?" He asked, finally managing to sort out his words. The beer can slipped from his limp fingers and fell to the floor, spattering what was left of its contents to soak into the fluffy cream carpet underfoot. Blake paid it no mind. "What's wrong with Neva?" He asked again, his words perfectly coherent this time as his mind suddenly clicked into gear. No matter what else had happened, he certainly still cared about Neva. He did not want her to get hurt... "What- What did I do?" He added, seeming bewildered and somewhat hurt. He had done nothing! He'd just been moping around in his little hole all this time. Why was everything always his fault?!
But wait - now was not the time to be acting like the selfish kid he had become. Now was the time to worry about Neva. "Is there... Anything I can do?" Blake asked in a dull, robotic tone. He doubted he could help at all in the state he was in. He did not really want to leave the house, either, but he still felt obliged to offer...

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?!" Blake retorted angrily, glaring indignantly at the girl. "How was I supposed to know what was going on?! I didn't ask for any of this! I couldn't possibly have known-"
He broke off, shaking his head furiously.
"I'm only human, you know. We're not all as perfect as you lot."
Blake let his harsh, sarcastic words ring in the air for a moment, but then guilt stabbed through him, and he felt compelled to take them back. "Sorry..." He muttered grudgingly. "That was uncalled for."
"But this- All this is just too much for me to handle right now. Can't you just... Tell Neva to 'unlink' or whatever? I can look after myself."

Blake shifted nervously under the verbal onslaught - suddenly uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was beginning to feel distinctly hung over. His head pounded. Though perhaps it was partially from having so much shocking information piled onto him... It was as though this woman was trying to force some form of pity and sympathy from a heart that had none left to give.
Are you stupid or something? 'None left to give', what rot! What absolute rubbish! Get a grip, Blake! You've been feeling sorry for yourself long enough. Now stop being so darn selfish and just throw Neva a rope. She never did anything wrong, after all.
"I'm sorry." Blake murmured quietly.
"I really am. For you, for her - everything. I hate that Neva's suffered so much - I do! But what am I supposed to do about it? What do you want from me?!"
He fell silent with a frustrated growl, tugging at his dirty hair in a stressed gesture.
"I need a drink..." He muttered irritably, glancing around. For once, there was not one nearby. Usually, half finished cans littered every inch of the house, but he had not ventured as far as the door in a long, long time.
"Just tell me." Blake pleaded, suddenly seeming weak and fragile, "Just tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do."

Blake swatted the woman's fingers away from his neck and stepped back, hovering beside the door with a rare, steely glint in his eyes.
"Now you look here!" He demanded darkly. "I may be a mess right now, and yeah, maybe I screwed up - but that doesn't mean you can waltz in here and treat me like dirt for something I didn't even do! I did not ask Neva to do this. I wish she hadn't, to be honest. I feel terrible - I do -but really, none of this is my fault, and I'd appreciate it if you would start acting that way!"
Blake's eyes narrowed - and for the first time in a long time, he found himself wishing that he looked just a little more respectable. He had some pride left, after all... And some determination with it. He was not going to be blamed for things he could not control, nor was he going to be treated like some child who could not care for himself. He could... He just hadn't seen the point until now.
"Thank you." Blake concluded stiffly, "I'm truly grateful that you've told me all this. Now, if you don't mind, it seems there's somewhere I need to be.
Thanks, and goodbye."
Blake tugged the door open, gesturing for the woman to leave. He appreciated her offer... But he had decided it was about time he took matters into his own hands. They had kept him in the dark all this time... Only to launch the truth at him now, and blame him for everything?! That wasn't fair. But regardless, Neva was his friend. If she was suffering, he would be at her side. He didn't care who did what to try to stop him... He'd be there, if it was the last thing he did. Once he made a promise, he did not break it. Just like with Libby...
They hadn't been able to keep him away from her, even when they'd locked him away in the loony bin.
Likewise, nothing would keep him away from Neva.
For the first time since he had lost her, Blake was able to think about Libby without breaking down. His resolve... It was back.

Once again, Blake pulled away. "I already planned to!" He hissed venomously. "I don't need you to tell me that, thanks. Now if you don't mind - please leave." He indicated the door, then turned on his heel and stormed off - his steps still wavering slightly, but considerably steadier than before, nonetheless.

With an effort, Blake resisted the urge to scoff and roll his eyes. He was not a child, after all... He did, however, huff an irritable sigh and slam the door shut with unnecessary drama after the woman had left. He had not enjoyed being belittled like that... But he had needed it, and he had deserved it. He would thank her, some time. But for now - he needed to get himself sorted out. He had moped around long enough...
Libby would not want to see him like this.
Drawing in a deep breath, Blake finally resigned himself to cleaning up the mess that had become his life.
He stalked off into the bathroom, and reappeared a fair deal later - clean, shaved, and properly dressed. His hair was rather too long for his liking - creeping almost to the nape of his neck - but he had to admit that after he'd attacked it with a comb, it did not look too bad.
With difficulty, Blake resisted the urge to grab a beer from the fridge, and just poured himself a glass of water instead. He had to admit... It felt good to be back on his feet. He had been moping around for far too long!

Thus it was that lake left his house, and made his way briskly in the direction he remembered Neva's home being in - looking handsome as ever with a dark hood tossed casually over his head, and his hands in the pockets of his black jeans.