Hell, today was just a good day with Darkside in general.
Darkside and I had a chat in the morning. Not much was said. In the computer lab we each worked on things that were due that day: him a writeup on the major failings of some websites, me on a summary of an essay. We both got our assignments done.
Somehow, he ended up telling me a dream rather close to his heart. Sharing some of the same dreams, I'm going to do every damn thing I can to encourage him, maybe pull him back out of the place he's fallen into.
There was an amusing little bit where he was assigned to a working group in his database class that lacked a member. He was groupless; the group needed someone more. The teacher, the inimitable Mr. Wright mentioned way back when, told the guy in the group that sure, (insert actual name here) was looking for a group, and it would work out perfectly.
Now, the fact remains that there are at least two, if not more, people of that first name in that class group. At just that point, Shrimpy walked up to the group. Shrimpy happens to share Darkside's given name. Shrimpy interrupted the conversation. Mr. Wright spared a few comments for him, then kept on talking to the group.
The group was peeved and understandably so. Shrimpy would be a bright boy if he only applied himself. He doesn't apply himself. Not to anything. Not ever.
Darkside would have been rather insulted, especially at the e-mail that the group sent to Mr. Wright on the status of the project, including some bitching about their newest member, if he'd thought that they were even attempting to describe him. Since it wasn't even the right last name, and it described Shrimpy to an exact exactness, and Darkside is accustomed to confusion, it was all cool as soon as the group was straightened out as to which person went with which last name.
After Darkside's last class, I caught up to him and asked him if he knew anything about the subject in math that Sis was struggling with. I walked him out to his car. He commented on the wooden sword he's got in the trunk. I asked him if he wanted to do a little sparring, as he looked like he didn't have work (no white uniform on, as with the new situation he goes directly to work from school) and he said, "Get in the car."
We bashed the hell out of each other in the parking lot. I guess some of the down-deadlies in my psyche decided to make an appearance. I got too enthusiastic with the wooden swords. He noticed the difference. He also noticed the difference when I shrank back into myself and got very quiet.
That was armed combat. When we tried things unarmed, it pretty much turned into a wrestling match. This is how things usually turn with him.
Then he called me on it. "...or are you subconsciously using this as an excuse to get close to me?" he asked. "Because we always seem to end up this close."
I froze, again. "I'll.... have to have a chat with my subconscious," I said after a time.
"I don't think your subconscious will listen," he told me.
That was it. No other comments. We resumed swordplay, but he had to go then, seeing as we'd been beating the hell out of each other for at least an hour.
We'll see what happens tomorrow morning.