patheticvillain | eleven ➢ private + spam

Entry tags:

eleven ➢ private + spam

private/video | chris

[Cassel is looking just - crazy excited right now. For him, anyway; he's grinning wide, one of his legs jogging as he speaks.]

Hey, Skywalker. [Guess who got out early. And guess who's caught up with what you've been doing.]

Point one, hi, but I said that. Point two, you totally are a weapon of mass destruction, I don't know why you never used that line on me before. Point three, I have a billion things to tell you, starting with - Star Wars?

spam 1 {mid-afternoon 5/13; deck}

[The first thing Cassel does when he gets out of Zero - besides calling Chris, which always comes first - is he takes Patches up on deck. It's kind of stupid, but he's missed this dog like crazy, and he's more than happy to spend an hour or two in the fresh air throwing a ball for him.]

[For those who know him, he looks weirdly content, like a weight's been lifted; for those who don't, he looks a hell of a lot more like a normal kid than he's ever looked before.]

spam 2 {mid-afternoon thru evening 5/13; gym}

[When Kon suggested he start working in the gym for real, it had seemed like a weird idea at first, but the more he thinks about it the more it seems like - maybe it wouldn't be so bad. So he says he'll try it out, at least, and if he's going to try he's going to start right away. No point waiting.]

[He's still learning the ropes beyond just cleaning tonight, but he's around, keeping things as organized as he can on Kon's direction.]

private/video | doyle

[The camera's on to prove a point: that he's genuine about this, because he is, extremely. Discomfort shows on his face, because he's not used to apologizing, and he can't look at the camera for more than a couple seconds at a time, but he goes for it anyway.]

Hi. Um.

I'd like to talk to you, if that's cool. Here or in person. Or I can just text if you'd rather do that, I - you know. Whatever you want.

private/voice | steph

Do you still wanna skip the apology? Because I have one. Up to you.

private/voice, later | zane

[It's tempting to yell at Zane, or to ask if he's okay, or to say nothing at all, or to go find him in person now that he can. None of these sound particularly right, though, especially after everything he's ~~stalked~~ read over the last hour or so, so he reverts to sarcasm. Decently affectionate sarcasm, but sarcasm nonetheless.]

You're such an idiot. I feel like you should win a prize for being as much of an idiot as you are.

private/text | barron

pizza?

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Too worried about his own power over you.

[ Zane's voice is dismissive, though this, in fact, is the source of many of Zane's own worries. Power.

He hesitates. ]

What's 'pizza'?

Maybe.

[He never thought about it like that.]

Pizza's food. It's like flat bread with tomato sauce and cheese on it. And other stuff sometimes.

They have it in the dining hall all the time. It's good.

Oh, that.

[ He recognizes the description at least. ]

That means he was afraid of you. You knew more than him. He couldn't trust his mind.

No, he can't. And the more he works the less he can trust it. My body bounces back, his won't.

I don't want him to be afraid of me, though.

There are worse ways he could feel.

I know. And I get that it's petty, but . . .

[He untangles his fingers from each other and draws a circle on his palm with the other index finger.]

They hid what I could do from me. That I could be useful, that I could be part of this. [He taps the inside of the invisible circle.] So I was stuck out here. [He taps the outside, the precipice of the edge of his gloved hand.]

Right on the edge of being normal, but not, because I'm a Sharpe. Not inside or outside. Not anything. And then I find out that I was inside the whole time but I wasn't allowed to know about it?

It's bullshit.

It is. [ If bullshit means what he thinks it does. ]

Like I said: they were afraid of you. It isn't petty to want more from your family.

It's just. Useless. [ If it isn't there, it isn't there. ]

[It's only as the anger is draining out into a bone-deep feeling of emptiness that Cassel realizes he was angry. Not at Zane, but at Barron. He hasn't allowed himself to feel angry at Barron since he thought he was lost forever, but now he is again.]

[He's very, very angry.]

[He turns his face back into Zane's shoulder, annoyed and confused. What he wanted was what he saw on television, reruns of crap sitcoms, a big brother who'd sit and listen to your stupid problems and sound like he knew what he was talking about and worry about you some. Instead he got Philip, who didn't care, and Barron, who'd stab him in the back in a second, but . . . sort of cared despite that.]

[Why is Zane listening when his family never did?]

[His words come out muffled.]

I love him, but I hate him too.

[ Zane has this hazy idea, right now, that he is giving Cassel something he needs, and that Cassel is giving him something he needs, and that there actually isn't any manipulation on either side, neither of them forcing the other to be something. It's a shaky thought, and requires a little bit of thinking around before his mind touches on it directly.

Love him but hate him too. He examines himself, seeking out signs of hatred directed at his father. What there is is either new or very deeply buried and only recently unearthed. But it's there.

He nods, silently. Understanding, not interrupting. ]

[When he talks about his family, about what makes them his, he uses small words, because they're too complicated to be bogged down by big ones. It's true of all of them: he loves them, but he hates them too. He wants to keep them safe, but he also wants desperately to hurt them before they can hurt him.]

[This is not a feeling he likes. He wants it to go away. But, because he can't make it go away and the avenue of hurting other people has been cut off now, it turns inward, to self-loathing.]

[His shoulders hunch. He does not cry because Cassel Sharpe doesn't cry, but his hands at Zane's elbow shake. He doesn't miss home or Lila or his mother but he does miss his grandad, who listened like this (but not like this because nobody's like Zane) and who made him feel, once or twice, nearly normal.]

[ Zane has lived the life of a shadow, but he has seen closer, warmer lives. He has crouched on rooftops in the swirling mist and seen one person draw another into their arms, for comfort, for deception, for decorum. Closeness has not been possible for him. Cassel, here, has probably already been closer to him for longer than anyone else he would allow.

Tentatively - ready to stop if Cassel shows any trepidation - he shifts around so his arm is around Cassel's back, drawing him closer. Something of an embrace. ]

[It's awkward, and for a second Cassel doesn't move simply because he doesn't realize what's going on. A couple months ago he would have flinched away from the touch entirely, gotten up and left - but then again, a couple of months ago he wouldn't have trusted anyone enough to comfort them like this. Now he expects this from Chris, at least, and he knows it doesn't have to be bad.]

[He still hesitates, but in the end he allows Zane to draw him closer, feeling small and vulnerable and very stupid. Swallowing hard, he lets himself rest. Even if it's just for a minute, even if Zane moves away and pushes him out again. Last time he was given a gift and told to leave. This is a gift, too, and not only does he want it, but he doesn't want to push away.]

[ He rubs Cassel's shoulderblade with the backs of his knuckles, not sure if that will help with the bare hands issue, but certainly unwilling to touch Cassel with the front of his hand.

He doesn't want to say anything. Doesn't want to jeopardize this by pulling Cassel one way or another. He would offer to Soothe him, but doesn't have any zinc or brass left, now.

Being this still means that the exhaustion dogging his steps has caught up with him. Pewter can't hold it off now. ]

[It's not great, but it's better. Soothing without Soothing. Cassel sighs and lets himself relax by inches, until he's nearly calm, almost safe.]

[After the quiet settles, he doesn't feel so scared anymore, so lost.]

[He looks up at Zane, scrutinizing him. Not unkindly, just curiously.]

[ His eyes are closed. They blink open, briefly, and he shifts slightly, and then they close again. He's not falling asleep, not exactly, but this is more restful than he's been in weeks, and exhaustion is nipping close at his heels.

A little shake of his head, to wake himself up. ]

[Cassel watches him, lips twitching at the corners. All of a sudden it's hard not to smile.]

Do you have nightmares?

[ A shake of his head. ] No.

I just don't sleep often.

[ The sheer weight of paranoia, really. ]

[He nods; figured. Lila never slept much, he recognizes the signs.]

What makes it okay to sleep?

[ He shrugs. It's never really okay. ]

Pewter, usually. Knowing it's there. Knowing I can protect myself.

[ This isn't him asking Cassel to make some. ]

[He knows, and nods. Honestly, he was expecting the answer with a little more guilt attached, but there's none.]

But you were resting just now.

If you turn on me, it's already too late.

[ He's already too close. There's no point in being suspicious.

This is what he tells himself. ]

[Now he smiles.]

If you say so.

Well, don't let me stop you.

[A beat.]

From sleeping, even.

[Not like he has anywhere to be right now.]

I'm not falling asleep here.

[ His shoulderblades shift, slightly, and he winces. Not from pain, but from the drag of the tip of the spike against the wall, even though the cloth. ]

I never sleep on my back.

[He rolls his eyes, nudging Zane slightly with his shoulder.]

So don't fall asleep here. Lie down like a guy with two brain cells in his head.

[ He stares at Cassel for a long moment, and then, with a half-shrug, moves to his feet and to the bed. ]

You can too. Rest.

Or just stay. If you leave, lock the door.

spam

patheticvillain - 2013-05-15 02:09 (UTC) - Expand

spam

godsays - 2013-05-15 02:16 (UTC) - Expand

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