| parker and callaway |
[Jun. 7th, 2010|07:29 pm] |
Surprisingly, things were going pretty well with Murphy in their home. Callaway was extremely accpeting of the boy, and Parker's attachment to him. He worked to give the two enough space on their own but still kept himself included every now and then so that Murphy could get to know him a little bit.
It was late at night, after a Callaway had cooked a big dinner for the three of them, and he was up late writing in his study. Parker and Murphy had been watching a movie together, though they'd been whispering to eachother througout the entire thing. Callaway could hear them now and then, and it made him smile a little bit.
After a while, he dozed off at his desk in front of his laptop, slumped down in his chair. |
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[Mar. 6th, 2010|11:37 pm] |
Parker felt better with Murphy around where he could keep an eye on him. After getting the details about the incident with Adam, he thought maybe Murphy should be committed. The boy was hurting and Parker was very worried that he'd do something dangerous again, self-destructive. He wanted nothing more than to be there for him and really, he'd missed having him so close all of the time.
Murphy was in the guest room and Parker was in the kitchen fixing something to eat. He was writing again, large amounts and he wondered if maybe it didn't have something to do with Murphy being close again. Not to say he missed being in that cell, but there was something to be said for a constant support system. Parker stirred the spaghettios he was heating up on the stove, liking the sound of the fork scraping and klinking against the steel pot. |
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| to parker |
[Jan. 31st, 2010|01:17 pm] |
Parker didn't know if it was good or bad that he hadn't gotten his notebooks back yet. The other items had been returned to the other boys, but a lot of Parker's writing had documented the things that were going on in the house. Chancellor had learned a lot from them and so they couldn't be returned. Parker understood. Top priority was getting Adam. The notebooks would have just reminded him of what he'd lived through in horrid detail, so he wasn't all that eager to get them back. But he would have liked some of his story starters for right now.
The book he'd been writing before seemed like a distant memory and he couldn't even connect with the writing to edit it. Now he was sitting on the living room floor, laptop sitting on his crossed legs. He wasn't typing anything, just staring at an open, blank word document. Dog came over to sniff at his shoulder, cold nose pressing to the back of his neck, making him jump a little and cry out. He could till be skittish at times. |
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| To Callaway |
[Jan. 12th, 2010|10:27 pm] |
Parker didn't have any injuries to speak of. He was very clear that he wanted to get out of the fucking hospital as soon as he possibly could. As the members of the team questioned him, he was short with his answers, sullen at best and belligerent at worst. They reassured him that they'd called Callaway and that the man would be there soon, but Parker had almost told them not to call because he didn't know if he was ready to see the man. Sure, Reagan had mentioned that the man had been waiting for him, but could he really trust to hope for something so amazing? In Parker's experience, he didn't get such a good thing twice, especially after he'd treated it so poorly the first time around.
Everyone had left him alone, moving on to the next victim, the next little headline or piece of the puzzle depending on how you looked at it. The silence of the little exam room was almost too much to bear and before he knew it, he found himself on the floor with his knees up to his chest, sobbing as quietly as he could. |
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| To Callaway, Backdated |
[Jan. 4th, 2010|01:12 pm] |
"Are you sure I can't talk to him?" Parker said, clutching his manuscript to his chest. The publishing company had sent it back with a rejection letter and this was the last one Parker was going to take sitting down. He hadn't ever thought of getting an agent to do this sort of thing. All he knew about the writing industry was that he wanted in and damn if these people didn't tell him why his work wasn't good enough to get published when things like Twilight were being printed.
"No, Mr. Reigh. Mr. Sanders is in a meeting right now and even if he wasn't, it isn't likely that he would be able to take your request. He's very busy. Please, resubmit your manuscript at a later time." The woman was used to dealing with desperate writers who had been recently rejected by the company. Parker grit his teeth together and could hardly keep from slamming the stack of papers and the deceptively blithe manila envelope in which they'd sent his rejection down on the desk. He stood there, refusing to leave and the receptionist looked up at him blankly, stubbornly as their stand off began. |
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| Open to Liam |
[Nov. 23rd, 2009|08:51 pm] |
When Parker went missing, Callaway never for a second thought that he had just disappeared on his own accord. Yes, they sometimes had volatile fights, but he never left without coming back. Callaway had a sinking, terrible feeling that something was very wrong. The past five years had been a struggle for Callaway, emotionally and sometimes even physically. He hated that the police had given up so easily, and no matter how often Callaway pushed them, they just didn't seem to care.
At the moment, he was trying to write. He was a fairly successful writer, but since Parker had gone missing, he had a difficult time concentrating. Parker was a writer, too, and it was hard to write without thinking of him. It was hard to do anything without Parker. The last rough draft the young mad had given him to read, Callaway had read probably over a thousand times. It was all he had left.
Staring at the blank computer screen, he let out a heavy sigh and lifted his hands up to rub his face tiredly. There was no way that he was going to get any writing done today. |
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