OPEN.:practicemakesperfect:.

[Jazz Hurt]

It's no surprise to me I am my own worst enemy...

...Cuz every now and then I kick the living shit outta me.

Jazz was walking through the halls alone, as per usual. He didn’t have very many friends, and he was often overlooked, but it didn’t bother him any. There were more important things in life than popularity. He was listening to his IPod as he walked, drowning out the world with the sound of one of his favorite bands. He opened the door to one of the practice rooms and glanced around to find it empty. He always went to that one, because it was one of the few that had a full drum set. He could’ve just gone home to use his; but, he wasn’t sure his father would appreciate it without a heads-up. Plus, there was that god-awful toll. Why pay money for something he could do for free at the school? It wasn’t like he didn’t have cash to burn; but, he always knew how to save money and would rather do that than to spend it all wastefully just because he could.

He was glad that the music rooms had been almost completely soundproofed as to not disturb the rest of the school -or other music classes- with whoever was playing what. Sure, sound still came out of the rooms, but it was pretty muffled when the door was shut. He reached into his bag and pulled out his drumsticks. One thing he loved about the drums, was he could put all his frustration into it and play all the better. He’d been playing for a good ten minutes when he noticed someone else in the room. He immediately stopped playing and reached up to still the cymbals. He sat there waiting for the other person to say something…anything, really.

tag;; open
word count;; 283
ooc;;

[Matthew Razorblade]

Matthew liked to wander. There wasn't really much else to do, so that's what he did. He wandered about the school and did nothing. He ignored his teachers and usually had a good time burning the homework later. His signature combat boots thumped on the floor as he walked and he had his leather jacket draped over his shoulders. The buckles clacked as he walked. He had his guitar wedged safely in it’s black and white checked case and it was slung over his shoulder. He was bored out of his mind right now. He looked about for someone anyone, but couldn’t find them, so he gave up and headed towards the music wing.

It was usually empty so he opened the first door he came to. Someone was engrossed in playing the drums. He watched them for a moment. The white haired kid was just banging away and it seemed to take him a while to realize that Matthew was in the room. Matthew tilted his head a bit when the boy stopped playing. “That was really good.” He said simply. “Sorry if I interrupted your little jam session.” He apologized pushing his hair out of his eyes.

[Jazz Hurt]

It's no surprise to me I am my own worst enemy...

...Cuz every now and then I kick the living shit outta me.

He gave the other boy a half smile before quietly saying, “S’okay.” Jazz was almost completely sure that the other boy was one of his roommates, but he didn’t spend much time with them. In fact, he was pretty sure that he’d only ever met the other boys in the suite on the day of orientation. He tended to keep to his own bedroom, only venturing out into the main suite area after the others were asleep. He held both drumsticks in both his hands, resting them on his lap. He’d give anything for some cue cards or something to help him say something. But, his withdrawn personality stopped him from voicing anything. He twisted his hands around the drumsticks in a way that was a nervous habit of his. “You’re Matthew, right?” he asked, thinking back to the odd little man that had introduced the boys staying in the suite to each other. He wasn’t too sure if that’s what his name was, but he’d really only said it to have something to say other than random syllables that didn’t make much sense. Actually, he was quite impressed he’d got a full sentence out. True, it was only three words…but it was more than the usual one-word talking he’d usually engage in.

Jazz glanced down at his hands and saw how white his knuckles were getting from gripping the drumsticks and he put them on top of one of the drums before crossing his arms a lot. His old therapist had told him it was a defensive stance…crossing his arms. Jazz could remember almost word-for-word everything he’d been told through his years in therapy. He’d always been pretty good about remembering things like that. But then, the memories would come back up at the oddest of times. Or, they seemed odd to him, anyway.

tag;; Matthew/open
word count;; 305
ooc;;

[Matthew Razorblade]

Matthew smiled at the boy cocking his head to the side once more. “Yes that would be me. Matthew Razorblade.” He said pulling a chair from the corner and setting his guitar on the ground he flipped it around and sat down in it backwards. His arms were draped over the top. He looked at the boy for a moment. He knew him. He had seen him before. He thought about it for a moment and then it clicked in his head. “And you would be Jasper, am I correct?” He asked him. Well he was pretty sure he was correct who could forget that absolutely perfect hair. He could probably point him out in the middle of Times Square.

Matthew would have usually backed out of the room by now muttering apology after apology, but he was hyper. That’s what eating a whole pack of sugar cubes did to you. Their other room mate told him to go and get his energy out and so that’s how he ended up here. He looked around and saw the piano in the corner. He smiled a very childish smile and moved towards it flipping his hair out of his face he began to play Mary Had a Little Lamb. “Did you know that this was the first song I ever taught myself to play on the piano and it’s still my favorite?” He said with a chuckle. He looked over his shoulder at the boy with a cheeky grin and a very cheesy wink. He turned back to the piano and switched to something with more tempo before finally stopping all together. He spun on the bench so that he was facing the boy. “You’re so quiet and I’m so hyper. I’m probably annoying you aren’t I?” He asked him with a worried expression and a slight pout to his lips.

[Jazz Hurt]

It's no surprise to me I am my own worst enemy...

...Cuz every now and then I kick the living shit outta me.

He watched silently as Matthew grabbed a chair and sat in it backwards. He pulled a face when the other boy used his first name. He rarely used it, only for official document stuff, because he didn’t like it too much. Every time he heard it he thought of his old and not so nice uncle. “Jazz,” he said, simply stating what he preferred to be called. He was quiet again as the other boy’s eyes scanned the room, falling on the piano. “Did you know that this was the first song I ever taught myself to play on the piano and it’s still my favorite?” Jazz wanted to say something, but didn’t think he’d be able to say anything without sounding stupid. So, he just smiled slightly. His smile faltered a bit when Matthew winked at him and turned back around. He shrugged it off as nothing, though, and the smile reformed at the sound of the song with a faster tempo. Then, the younger boy stopped playing and turned around on the piano bench. “You’re so quiet and I’m so hyper. I’m probably annoying you aren’t I?” Jazz smiled softly as he shook his head a little. “No, not really.” He actually thought Matthew was a lot better company than some of the people he could’ve been in the room with. There were quite a few people in the school that just irritated him to no end; but, they usually didn’t notice him, so he always just put it to the side really. Why worry about people who didn’t even know you existed? Jazz had been staring at Matthew for a little while and didn’t realize it until then. He looked away, glancing at some random object in the room and fighting the red tint that wanted to claim his face. “D’you really teach yourself to play?” he asked softly, referring back to what the other boy had said about the piano.

tag;; Matthew/open
word count;; 324
ooc;;

[Matthew Razorblade]

Matthew looked over at him with a smile. "Jazz that's such an awesome name." he said staring at the wall for a moment. he shook the thoughts away and turned back to the keys. He tapped out an interesting tune and then raised an eyebrow as the boy asked his question. "Why yes I did." He said with a smile. "I taught myself that and the guitar." He explained looking over his shoulder at the boy. Matthew couldn't help that he was so loud when he was high on sugar it was just a problem of his. He looked over at the boy with a slight smirk. "So are the drums the only thing you play?" He asked him with a raised eyebrow. This boy was so quiet but he seemed cool enough. "How come I never see you in the dorm?"

[Jazz Hurt]

It's no surprise to me I am my own worst enemy...

...Cuz every now and then I kick the living shit outta me.

A smile tugged at Jazz’s lips when Matthew said he also taught himself to play the guitar. He thought that it was really cool. He couldn’t remember when he first started playing the drums or if he ever took lessons or anything. All he knew was it’d started during a time he didn’t really want to remember. There were times he wished he had selective memory loss, to just forget all of it. But, he also knew he was more than likely never to forget it. Jazz looked down at his hands and saw he was absent-mindedly tapping his right thumb against his leg, something that’d been a habit for who knows how long. He stopped the nervous habit and looked up when Matthew asked about him playing anything else. He shook his head in response. He’d never actually tried to play anything else, to be honest. He’d never really thought about it, either. "How come I never see you in the dorm?" Jazz shrugged a bit before saying, “I usually stay in my room when I’m there…unless the rest of you are asleep or out.” There were a few times he’d be out in the main area of the suite while he was alone and he’d hear someone unlocking the front door, which signaled him to retreat back into his room. Jazz tried to avoid confrontation as much as possible. It was easier for him to be alone than to try to really talk to someone. Sure, he’d spit out sentences every now and then; but, there were only a few people he felt comfortable talking freely with. Unless it was online…he never had a problem ‘talking’ online. He wasn’t too sure why; but, it probably had to do with the fact he wasn’t actually saying anything and he wasn’t actually sitting in front of the person.

tag;; Matthew/open
word count;; 308
ooc;;

[Matthew Razorblade]

Matthew listened to his answer with a nod. "Well that's no fun." He said with a shake of his head. "How are you suppoused to meet friends when you never come out. That just won't do." Matthew said with a stern look. He was nice to everyone and he loved making friends, it was just that they didn't love him back, so therefore he kept to himself most of the time. Whenever he had a chance to though, he would try and make at least one new friend and this was the perfect opportunity. He got up and moved towards him sitting down on the floor cross-legged beside the drum set so that he could look up at the boy.

[Jazz Hurt]

It's no surprise to me I am my own worst enemy...

...Cuz every now and then I kick the living shit outta me.

Jazz shrugged a bit at Matthew’s reply. He’d never been good at the whole making friends thing. Most of the friends he did have had been his friends since he was young or (as a few of them had) literally tripped into his life. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually made a new friend. It’d been too long ago. “I don’t make new friends often,” he said before he bit his lip. He had a horrible habit of that, biting his lip. Jazz looked down at the other boy as he stopped biting his lip. He had no idea what to say to Matthew. They’d lived in the same suite all term and Jazz had barely said ten words to him…of course, he rarely talked a lot to anyone. “Is this your first year here?” he asked after a while of thinking. He knew it was a completely lame and predictable question…but, it was all he could come up with. He really was bad at the whole conversation thing. Sometimes he wondered why he even tried. He sometimes even had a hard time talking with people he’d known for a long time. There were times that conversation with his best friends was impossible even. His friends never seemed to mind though when he’d just sit there and listen to their conversation.

tag;; Matthew/open
word count;; i've no idea
ooc;;

[Matthew Razorblade]

Matthew nodded. "That it is." He said with a smile. The boy seemed to be hacing trouble thinking of what to say. Matthew didn't mind helping him out. "How long have you been playing the drums?" He asked him with a tilt of his head. He looked at the drumset he was sitting next to. Honestly Matthew figured that if he ever tried he would not be able to play. It would probably end up a bunch of noise. He got up and moved back to his chair. He wanted to hear this boy play. He was obviously very good if he was here at this school. "Will you play something?" He asked studying the boy's face. He looked down at his hands and then back up brushing the hair out of his eyes.