we put the mates in roommates ~mikhail~

[unconventionalcow]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]uhh.. i donno WORDS FOR Mikhail/Janise Oh hey look who decided to show up after like two weeks. Sorry about that, I've been kind of swamped. outfit here DREAM [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Logan stared out the window of his dorm room, feeling as if he were well and truly bored. He had never really felt that way in the past, so this feeling was like a slap in the face for him. He let out a drawly sigh, and walked over to his bed. It was all done up in his signature color, maroon. Maroon sheets, blankets, pillow cases. Hell, he even had a maroon colored plushie in the shape of a horse, his favorite animal. He had named it Horsey, with the idea in mind that simpler was better when it came to naming your stuffed animals. Logan collapsed face first onto over abundance of pillows, and wiggled around a bit before flipping over again. He was completely restless, which was a bad additive for the british boy. He bumbled around for a few moments before giving up and walking over to where his cheap ass guitar was situated on it's make-shift stand (said stand was composed of two wire clothes hangers and the actual case that the guitar came in). He picked it up and sat down on the floor, leaning his weight against the doorway that led to the hallway outside. Strumming a few chords, he began to hum along to an old Beatles song about octopi and submarines, his foot tapping along to the beat lightly. "We all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine.." his voice drifted off at the end, allowing time for his fingers to pull themselves into position for another song. His well callused fingers drifted up and down the neck of the guitar, and suddenly his own song flowed out of the body of the guitar. Logan's voice drifted out towards the open window, and into the street below him. It was only then that he decided that he was content.. well, for a little while at least. [/style]

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[mikhail vasiliy petrov]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 420px; height: 300px; padding: 10px;background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/DAA2R.png);] Mikhail had to wonder what he was doing with his free time, honestly. There were times when he would simply sit on one of the benches, feeling the warmth influx of the spring season as it neared closer to summer as he inhaled the smoke from his cigarette. It was uncomfortable and he wanted the harsh winters of Russia. He supposed that in a sense the winter suited someone like him- the bitter wind, the freezing temperatures of the air and the snow that would gracefully fall down onto the grey pavement where it was likely to melt. Mikhail was stuck in the same rigid place he always was and he hated it. Mikhail sighed quietly, as he let puffs of smoke escape from his lips. The sun beat down on him. Of all the places he could have chosen to relax, it had to be on one of the hottest spring days. It was a pity it could not be spring. It was a great and terrible pity- that was all that it was. He stood up slowly and let his cigarette drop to the floor. His sneaker clad foot stepped on the dying cigarette. Mikhail took his time going back to the dorms and once he arrived in front of his door, he stopped. Mikhail turned the door knob and stepped in. He didn’t say a word however; when he saw his roommate playing the guitar he had while singing. Best not interrupt, he thought. His stomach grumbled loudly from hunger and he hoped that Logan did not hear it. [/style][style=width: 165px; padding: 10px;background-color: #736873; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; color: #f8f8f8; font-size: 7px;text-transform:uppercase;float:left;]i don't ask for everything weve done has passed Who cares if we will meet again Its obvious that we're not friends I darent speak of what Im wishing uselessly My stupid vision clears to see a sugar mountain melt in me I can cut my heart out just like you do And I can suck the life out of it just like you do Im gonna pick myself up and pull myself together never revel in recovery mode For when commitment is a dirty word You cant afford to ever slip or let down your guard Cause you're not big in my life not big in my life not big in my life at all

notes: this is really late and terrible, i apologize.

[unconventionalcow]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]A number of WORDS FOR Mikhail/Janise I AM LITERALLY THE WORST PERSON IN THE WORLD I'M SO SORRY FOR TAKING THIS LONG PLEASE FEEL FREE TO INFLICT SOME SORT OF PUNISHMENT ONTO ME. outfit here DREAM [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: left; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;] A loud grumbling broke Logan from his daze, and it was then that he became aware of the other presence in the room, standing near the door. 'Roommate? Maybe. That'd be sick.' his inner monologue spoke. "Um, hey mate. The name's Logan." he stood up, and walked over to offer a handshake. "It's cool to meet you. Sorry about the absent-minded jamming, I'm just a bit of a music guy.". He smiled warmly at this new guy, wondering if they would get along. Logan did that weird sort of glance at this guy, summing him up. Slim, hipster-esque, around the same age, looked pretty nice too. He thought that they would get on pretty well. "So. You wanna go grab some nosh? I'm starved, and there's a good place for a bite about ten minutes away from here, five if we bike. But you probably don't have a bike do you? Considering it seems like you just got here.." he trailed off, realizing that maybe he should just stop talking. The one thing that Logan did notice on this guy that really stood out, was the aroma of a cigarette. He felt his throat tighten at the nostalgic smell, the need for a fag* starting to bubble up in his body. 'No.' he reminded himself, 'You're clean, remember?. He pushed down that urge in him, and instead just smiled even wider at his new roomie. He quickly grabbed his shoes, slid them on, and opened up the door while calling, "Come on, off we pop!, back towards the dorm room. *A fag is slang for a cigarette. Just thought I'd mention that [/style]

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