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 Feel My Love (Harvard), TW: Child abuse
Angel
  • 36 yrs
  • Taken
  • Harvard Card
Posted On: Jun 17 2017, 08:54 PM
No, there's nothing
that I wouldn't do
to make you feel my love

Ethan glanced at the clock, feeling a slight pang of worry in his chest. Samantha had always been on time to her sessions with him; it was not like her to be late. True, she was only late by a few minutes, but as time ticked by, the sinking feeling in his stomach became more prominent. Even though he knew it could be considered unprofessional, he considered his students his surrogate children; the ones he knew he could never have. Thus, he worried about them like a father would, though he never admitted it aloud. He picked up the book resting next to his elbow and started to flip through it idly until the bell on the door chimed. It did not too much longer for her to show up, and, instead of chiding her like he wanted to, Ethan smiled at the young woman. "I was going to send a slip for you if you didn't come, Sam," he said, nodding to the chair in front of him. "Is everything okay?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her, "You're never usually late for our sessions."

The young woman looked at her shoes, causing Ethan's brow to furrow. He let out a gentle sigh and reached across the desk, offering his hand to her, "Hey, I'm not mad at you," he said in a gentle tone of voice, "I'm just concerned." He heard the girl sniffle softly and he sat back, reaching over to the corner of his desk and placed a tissue box in front of the girl. "Is there anything going on at home that you want to talk about?" he asked kindly, leaning forward to hear her better and show his interest in what she was saying. She looked up at him with tears tracking down her cheeks, which smudged the shoddy job she did of concealing her black eye. "Mom and I got into a fight," she mumbled, "And she punched me to "teach me a lesson". The dark-haired counselor kept a straight, but sympathetic expression while the girl recounted the story. He could not help but notice the bruises littering her arms and wondered if there were any in places he could not (and would not) see, like her back, stomach, or legs. "Does your mom usually do that when she gets mad?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, "Lash out, that is." The girl simply nodded, starting to cry again.

After another 20 minutes, Ethan managed to calm the girl enough to open up about what happened. He informed her that he would have to call someone from Child Protective Services, due to his obligation as a professional. He saw the fear in her eyes and laid a hand on her shoulder, "You don't deserve to be hurt like this," he assured her, "And your mother won't be able to hurt you again. Just tell them your truth; that's your only job." He handed her a stuffed animal from one of the shelves and she clutched it tightly. She looked so childish doing so; by then, she was a junior in the high school division of Mazi, and she had been under the thumb of an abusive mother for what he could only assume was a lifetime. He stepped into another room to make the call, and CPS said they would send a case worker out immediately. He blinked a bit; response time was not usually that fast, but something told him this family had been visited before. This time, though, the mother might be held accountable for her horrific actions toward the daughter that she was supposed to love and care for.

Some time later, someone called for Ethan over the PA and he left the girl with another one of his colleagues, assuring the girl he would be back soon so they could do what they needed to do and get her back to class. He headed toward the front office, taking his time to look around the halls, which bustled with students. Something was vaguely familiar about the scene transpiring around him, but he could not put his finger on it. He shrugged and carried on, opening the door to the front office and greeting the secretaries behind the desk. The dark-haired counselor looked at the visitor sign-in sheet, and searched for the name of the case worker they had given him. Something Card, I think? he thought to himself, scanning the list until he found it. He signed his own name next to the social worker's and approached the only man in the waiting area. "Mr. Card?" he said, coming to a stop in front of the man and offering him a hand, "I'm Ethan Lombardi, one of the counselors here. I assume you're here to discuss the student I called about earlier and interview her?" For a split second, Ethan felt a strange sense of elation, but, in the blink of an eye it disappeared. He sighed softly, scratching the back of his head, "I'm sorry to drag you out here right before the end of the year, but... I'm very concerned about her."

@Kurt

Human
  • 35 yrs
  • Taken
  • ethan lombardi
Carry on my way word son, there will be peace when you are gone
Posted On: Jun 18 2017, 03:08 AM
Harvard Card

"There's nothing more scary than silence"

Harvard remembered waking up with a hard headache this morning. Bordering on a migraine the man had forced himself to crawl out of bed before looking at his clock. Maybe, just maybe he should call in for work. It wasn't something that he did often - in the few years, he'd been working at the social services he'd never missed a working day. Rubbing his temples he breathed in slow and groaned, no what sort of man would he be if he called in sick. That was just stupid, he stood up and started to quickly get ready for his day. While in the shower, he'd received a call, the ringing interrupting him as he rushed out grabbing a towel before placing the phone to his ear.

His boss went on to apologize for bothering him, but today if he could go out to the school to check on a girl. Harvard was immediately alert of course, scrambling through his room trying to get dressed while listening to the details of the case. Originally they weren't going to bother since they'd sent one of his co-workers before for this same kid but she had found nothing "wrong". Harvard wanted to scoff, he knew how lazy some of his co-workers could be. How they simply scanned the surface and left because they just wanted to be done with work. Samantha Buckett was the girl's name, a fourteen-year-old at Mazi Academy a counselor had called in because the girl said her mother had been punching her. With summer around the corner he could only imagine the worry the teenager was going through.

After the phone call ended, Harvard had grabbed his keys and headed straight over to the academy. Signing in quickly as he waited for the counselor to call him in. Sometimes he was thankful to work with the counselors here - after all, many of them were understanding if they called CPS to do an interview. The goal was to make the kids comfortable and if they were in immediate danger to get them out of the situation. He tried to remain as calm as he could, sitting there in the office until he stood to greet the rather young looking man. He looked to be about nineteen if he had to say but with so many species it was hard to tell. When he noticed the slight indents of wings - he realized it was most likely an angel that along with the calming and bright energy feeling given off. As a human, he was sensitive to these sorts of things.

Harvard grabbed the man's hand and he could have sworn he had felt this sensation before. Like a warm familiar feeling, when he looked at the counselor once more his mind was thrown into a whirlwind. His heart rate increased and he blinked wide eyes and confused for a minute. Harvard tried to keep his composure. "Harvard Card, it's no problem I would have come even if I wasn't on hours." he smiled rather painfully...... it had to be! That sensation he wouldn't miss it anywhere and he fought the temptation to cry and prevented himself from shaking the best he could. Not at work no he would need to remain calm. Casually Harvard decided he would invite the man to coffee later on. Then he'd be positive right?

"You're free to stay with her if that means she'd be more comfortable. I've just got a couple of routine questions to ask." Harvard pulled out his notebook and a pen, he had to write everything down so that he could report it to the main office. After all, in the end, it would be up to his boss if they did a house call - meaning they'd send police with Harvard to fetch the child away from her mother. Sometimes it was the hardest thing to do kids were not always cooperative and neither were foster parents always kind. Either way it was a good thing his mind concentrated on that instead of.... Ethan.

@Jasmine

Angel
  • 36 yrs
  • Taken
  • Harvard Card
Posted On: Jun 18 2017, 08:56 AM
No, there's nothing
that I wouldn't do
to make you feel my love
Ethan really had no idea what he would be looking for when he entered the front office. He had no lack of familiarity with visits from social services; he had called upon them several times during his years of employment, much to his chagrin. He never understood how a parent could hurt their child or how a sibling could seriously injure another. He supposed he could never understand, though; he was not a parent, and he could not remember whether he had siblings or not. Right after he managed to escape from the cemetery alive, he had stumbled into some poor old woman’s house, and she claimed to be his mother. Naturally, this confused him because he had no memory previous to waking up six feet under (quite literally). He brushed the thought aside and scoured the list for the name. He tilted his head a bit when he noticed a different name. CPS had come out to interview Samantha at school before, but the last time, it had been a female. Perhaps the girl had been assigned a new case worker? He shrugged to himself, supposing that might be the answer to his question. He decided to go and look for Mr. Card, who probably had the neatest handwriting on the list. The fact probably should not have interested him as much as it did, given that he had a nagging feeling of familiarity surrounding it. I’m probably just worried about her and it’s messing with me, he thought to himself, finally managing to approach the man who sat patiently in one of the many chairs in the room. He introduced himself, offering his hand for the other to shake. He did not expect him to take it, but he did, although, he did not shake it as expected. He just held it, which made him feel a bit odd, but he knew people had their quirks.

Ethan grimaced slightly at Harvard’s words. ”I would have come, even if I wasn’t on hours.” He wondered to himself how many awful cases this man saw a day. Sure, Samantha’s case was heartbreaking, but he knew that the world was not a sunny and rosy place. Children and teens got molested, beaten, neglected and various other things on a daily basis; that was nothing to say of the hundreds of thousands of cases of domestic violence against any and all genders and sexes across the country. He really could not understand how people could deal with the scum of the earth for a living. Then again, most people would probably not understand how he could work with teenagers on a daily basis and keep his sanity. The thought caused him to smile a bit before clearing his throat and nodding, “I appreciate that, Mr. Card. Thankfully, it’s not as prevalent around here, but I can’t tell you how many cases like this I’ve seen in other places.” He nodded toward the door of the office and started to head out, waiting for the other man to fall in step beside him or behind him. “I usually keep the students in the counseling office to do these interviews,” he said, glancing at the other out of the corner of his eye, “There are plenty of things for them to fidget with or hold in there. Plus, I think the atmosphere is more open…” He realized after a moment that the other man was not following him anymore, and he quickly backtracked and beckoned for the other to follow him. “Be careful Mr. Card,” he warned with an amused smile, “This is a gigantic campus; I wouldn’t want you to be wandering around all day long by yourself.”

When they finally arrived at the office, Harvard mentioned that Ethan could stay in the room and he nodded a bit. “I think she would appreciate that,” he commented, glancing at the girl, who was scrunched up in the chair with her knees to her chest and clutching the stuffed dog he had offered to her like a lifeline. “To be completely honest with you, this is the first time she’s told me the truth about the whole thing,” he mumbled to the other man, sighing, “Usually, she tells me she’s just clumsy; you know, falling down stairs, getting her arms caught in doors, falling out of trees, the like. However, she’s in the gymnastics and competition dance team, and she seems to have a balanced gait, so…” He shrugged a bit before heading into the room where Samantha sat and ushered for Harvard to come in behind him. “Samantha, this is Mr. Card,” he said, smiling at the girl and pulling his chair beside hers, “He’s going to ask you some questions. I can be right here next to you, if you want, but that’s up to you.” The girl nodded quickly at his offer and he gave the other man a small, sympathetic smile and sat back in his chair, allowing the social worker to take over the interview. When the whole ordeal was finished, Ethan allowed Samantha to sit in the waiting room of the counseling office for a bit. He knew that she would not want to go back to class with red, puffy eyes and tear tracks still visible on her face, even if no tears were actively flowing. He shook his head a bit and moved his chair back behind his desk. “I really appreciate you coming out to take care of this, Mr. Card,” Ethan said with a soft sigh, “Do you have everything you need to complete your assessment? Seeing as you’re her caseworker now, I presume, I can give you her school records, if need be.” He really did hate involving other people in the lives of his students like this, but he knew the girl was in danger, and it was only a matter of time before her mother did something again. People like that did not just stop being awful, after all; they just tried to cover it up, better.

@Kurt


Human
  • 35 yrs
  • Taken
  • ethan lombardi
Carry on my way word son, there will be peace when you are gone
Posted On: Jun 22 2017, 08:45 PM
Harvard Card

"There's nothing more scary than silence"

Harvard tried not to be rude and tell the man that he knew the school like the back of his hand. He had not only attended the Academy, but he often came here to take care of the students within it. He entered the room with the girl and introduced himself. Quickly sitting down to ask the routine questions.Once the interview was over, Harvard knew what to do. Sending the girl back to her class he was putting his pen away and exiting with Ethan. His thoughts were mixed with worry for this young girl and a worry for his own sanity. As the man listened to the counselor he tried to keep on a smile.

"That's alright, I'll just have to follow up at her house and we should already have her home address." Albeit he left out the part about needing to take the police with him. This girl needed to be taken into custody but for now, that was a discussion for another day. Now what Harvard was more interested in was Ethan himself. He cleared his throat - might as well give it a shot. "Would you be open to getting a cup of coffee sometime or just going to a cafe. Doesn't matter if it's not coffee." Harvard offered as he held onto his clipboard.

The most disturbing thing about this though was his want to be around Ethan. The shock hadn't been great for the first time since this was indeed Tanner. It had to be! Harvard could only connect the dots and it made his head hurt. He wanted to groan, sit in bed all day and do nothing. Regardless he couldn't just go out and tell Ethan he was his dead boyfriend brought back by nature's miracle. That would be rude not to mention confusing. Ethan was under no obligation to like him either - which to an extent depressed him.

@Jasmine

Angel
  • 36 yrs
  • Taken
  • Harvard Card
Posted On: Jun 24 2017, 09:17 AM
No, there's nothing
that I wouldn't do
to make you feel my love

Ethan gave Harvard privacy after he finished the interview with Samantha. The counselor went out into the waiting room, where the girl sat and took the chair beside her. “You did a good job, Sam,” he assured her with a sympathetic smile. He waited a moment before saying, “You can go back to class whenever you’re ready. Just let me know, and Mrs. Oz will write you a pass.” He gestured to the secretary at the front desk, who only looked up at the mention of her name. The girl nodded with a soft sniffle and blew her nose before standing up and walking over to the desk, timidly asking for the pass so she could go back to class. He managed to refrain from sighing until the door closed behind her. “It’s really sad, you know,” the older woman commented with a worried look on her face. “It is,” Ethan replied with a small, wry smile, “So many people in this world would kill to have or be part of a family, and some people take advantage of it, or worse, abuse it…” He stood in the middle of the waiting room for a moment, watching through the opaque glass window at the students passing by. A nagging sense of deja vu came over him, but he quickly shrugged it off. He headed back toward his office, where the other man was waiting. He offered the girl’s school records, which would probably help with his assessment, but he supposed he already had them because he politely rejected the offer. “I figured as much,” the counselor replied with a soft sigh and a shake of his head. How could anyone hurt such an innocent girl? He would never understand.

Ethan situated himself back at his desk, getting ready to make a note in Samantha's file about Harvard’s visit. His hands paused on the keyboard and he looked up at the other man, who appeared to have a slight pink tinge to his cheeks. For a moment, he sat there, stunned and wide-eyed. Normally, social workers did what they needed to do and left. They were polite to him, sure, but they never asked him out for coffee or anything. Perhaps they had a good radar, though, because most of the social workers he had seen had been women. Regardless, he was still a bit flabbergasted by the invitation. “U-uh… Um, sure, I guess,” he replied with a polite smile, trying to hide the fact that he was somewhat startled by the sudden invitation. He cleared his throat, looking away for a moment before looking back up, “The high schoolers should be done in an hour or two, so, maybe we could meet then? Around 3?” He scratched his cheek, not really knowing what to say. Being away and underground for so long had messed with his memory, so he could not remember if he had ever been on a date before. “I think there’s a coffee shop around the corner, if I’m not mistaken. Perhaps we could meet up there?”

Ethan scratched the top of his head, not really sure what else to say. Being alone with Harvard gave him a strange, warm feeling throughout his whole body that he could not explain. Who was this man? And why was he making him feel like this? As awkward as the whole situation was, he could not help but feel slightly curious. Sure, he had initially accepted the invitation purely out of politeness, but as the minutes passed, his mind turned over questions more and more. He decided to turn back to his notes, typing a quick one in Samantha’s file before saving it and closing it. The intense look of fear on the girl’s face came back into his mind and he frowned slightly, opening a different file to make notes on it. He had no more student appointments that day, and he had not had a lot of time between earlier sessions to make notes. He reached over and grabbed his notebook, where he had jotted down some things with pen and started putting them in the electronic record. By that point, he had hoped the other man had exited his office, and probably the building, so he could do what he needed to do.

@Kurt


Human
  • 35 yrs
  • Taken
  • ethan lombardi
Carry on my way word son, there will be peace when you are gone
Posted On: Jul 9 2017, 03:16 AM
Harvard Card

"There's nothing more scary than silence"

Harvard was a bit... surprised, really. He had expected the man to gratefully decline - seeing as he was just a complete stranger and had finished his job. Scrambling into his pocket he pulled out his card, lucky enough for it to have his number on it so he didn't have to struggle. "It sounds like a plan to me." he responded as he offered Ethan the card. To be honest it was taking everything he got to not shake. His head was still trying to wrap itself around this. After all he didn't expect his day to go like this. It'd been a while since he took a case at the school and when he did, well it seemed fate decided to get in his face.

The man took a deep breath and smiled towards the other. "Just call or text me when you're ready." Harvard quickly turned around and said his goodbye's. Breaking under the pressure he needed to get some air before he broke down. On the side of the building, he stopped and tried to catch his breath. Staring down at the concrete as he held tightly onto his clipboard. Standing up he looked around, nobody had seen him which was nice. So then, he headed towards his car to get home and ready for his "date".

ooc: Sorry for the shortness! You can move them to the cafe


@Jasmine

Angel
  • 36 yrs
  • Taken
  • Harvard Card
Posted On: Jul 11 2017, 12:54 PM
No, there's nothing
that I wouldn't do
to make you feel my love

Ethan definitely got caught off guard at first when Harvard asked him to get coffee. Normally, he would have said no, especially since they had met under a professional capacity. Nevertheless, he found the word “sure” slipping from his lips before he could think of anything else to say. He watched the other fumble around and offer his card, and he wondered to himself if the other’s cell phone number was on there. Thankfully, it was and he breathed an internal sigh of relief as he took it from the other and placed it on his desk. He smiled politely at the other man, who told him to call or text when he was ready, excused himself, presumably to go home or something. The dark-haired angel could not really tell where the other was going, or why he seemed to be acting so squirrely with him. He did notice the beating of his own heart to be a bit faster than normal, but he shrugged it off. His nerves were getting to him, most likely; he could not remember the last time he had been on a date. He straightened out his tie and glanced at the clock. He still had some time before school ended, so he continued to work on his notes and transcribing them into the electronic file until the final bell. He straightened his clothes out, bid the secretary locking up farewell, and texted Harvard to meet him at a cafe called “Hot Shots”. It was somewhat of a strange name, but Ethan often found himself purchasing their coffee because it was so good.

Ethan sat at a table in the corner, quietly sipping on his coffee. He pushed the plate, which had an assortment of small pastries on it, to the middle of the table. His leg shook in anticipation as he looked at the people moving in and out of the coffee shop. A small, amused smile crossed his face as he mused on fate. How fickle a thing it was! How would anyone explain him waking up six feet under a rather large pile of dirt after several years of being dead before? How could anything explain him starting to remember snippets of his old life, with a loving family that had lost all hope when he had tragically died all those years ago? How was it that he would be able to feel the flutter of “butterflies” in his stomach, even after all this time? He really could not understand any of these things, but, perhaps, Harvard could help him find some insights. After all, their professions were not too far off from one another; hell, his undergraduate degree was probably in psychology, like most other social workers’ were. He perked up a bit when the other finally entered the shop and smiled a bit, waving to get his attention. The smile he received in return caused him to blush slightly and duck his head, taking a sip of his coffee. He reached out to grab a danish to nibble on and looked up when the other sat down. “I got us a few things to munch on. I hope you don’t mind,” Ethan said with a small smile, noticing Harvard’s change in attire, “You look nice.” He could not help but let the compliment slip past his lips, though he did not remember forming the words in his brain. It seemed that his brain-to-mouth filter was malfunctioning that day. He could only hope it would turn back on just enough so he would prevent himself from saying anything stupid that would ruin the nice little setup they had.

@Kurt


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