patheticvillain | twenty ➢ private + spam

private } chris

Can we do something? Anything. Just away from everybody else because I am legitimately about to lose my mind.

private } vesper

So do you know how to play cards or does Jimmy just keep you around for eye candy?

[Please let him come to your room and play with Martin and avoid everybody else.]

private } kon

Hey. Um.

. . . Can I have a cat.

spam } bond

[Well, that went incredibly poorly. He's too off to focus well - not even mad, just off - and by the end he's frustrated enough that he wants to call it quits and give Cass the damn knife back. But giving up in front of James is absolutely not an option, so he just grits his teeth and closes it up.]

That was a colossal waste of time. [With the sunniest of smiles, of course.]

spam } prefect

[Cassel knows where to find Prefect. Absolutely. When he's not with Barron, he's in the pub. It's fucked up and pathetic, but that's the name of the game this week, so whatever. He's not quite messed up enough to try to get in without Kon, but he'll absolutely text Prefect from just outside the door. Yes he will.]

come outside. you have a secret admirer.

[This will probably work no matter how drunk he is.]

spam } gym & greenhouse

[Cassel's still taking double shifts at the gym. He's a pretty common fixture at this point, and when he's not furiously cleaning something he's doing light work on the mats, training with Kon or Cass or James.]

[The rest of the time, he's either locked up in his room or tucked away in a quiet corner of the greenhouse. There's still a strange feeling of safety that lingers here, even though he knows that whatever reason Ivy had to protect him when he was small, it doesn't carry over to now. He brings a book and curls up behind a raised flowerbed anyway, taking sanctuary in the quiet when he gets too antsy to stay in his room.]

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[James sees it: he'd be blind not to, he's seen it in himself and other young men who are pent up and angry. So he falls silent for a time, holds the back and lets Cassel attack it. Then the quiet goading starts.]

Come on, you can hit harder than that.

[His eyes snap up, a quick glare, no fuck you, but he does, he can't not. He slams his fists into the bag and imagines they're everything that's hurting him right now: memories, lack thereof, his mother, Barron, Zane, Two-Face, helplessness, not being listened to. It just makes him angrier, because this is all he can do. This is it.]

[Right, left, right; he tosses his hair out of his eyes and puts all his weight into it until his fists are a blur.]

[It's good, solid, and James can feel the bag moving, has to really work to keep it still for the boy. That's how it should be, a work out for the both of them, a way to deal with aggression in the healthiest possible way.

Better than fighting, anyway. Bond learned that late, himself.]

Good, [he grunts out,] Better. [He's waiting for Cassel to exhaust himself at this point, waiting for the tell tale signs that he's slowing down.]

[It doesn't take all that long. He's emotionally exhausted to start with, and he hasn't been sleeping like he should, so he's begun at half-strength at best. He wears himself out quickly. The trouble is, by the time he lets his hands fall to his sides and puts his regular gloves on, there are tears starting at the corners of his eyes and he can't even say why.]

[He backs up and shakes his head viciously, trying to make them go away.]

[Noooooooooooooope. Bond shifts awkwardly when he realizes that those are in fact tears. He pauses, staring briefly and then averting his gaze, but that doesn't feel like quite enough.]

There are ice packs if your knuckles are split.

[He knows it's not that, knows there's no way Cassel hurt himself on the bag. But it's just a quiet offer to talk, if that's what Cassel wants.]

Yeah. Thanks.

[He rubs at his face, glances towards the ice packs like he's thinking about it, then thinks better of it.]

'M fine.

[Not even slightly. He gives a shaky laugh.]

They're not split.

[He could just leave it alone. It would be easier, he thinks Cassel might even thank him for it, silently, for not digging.

Fuck, he thinks with a long exhale.]

That's a crock. [He levels a look at the younger man.] What is it?

[He almost snaps Nothing, I said it was nothing, but doesn't in the end - just meets James's look evenly, runs his hands through his hair.]

It's all happening too fast. I'm not supposed to graduate already, but I can feel it. I can feel it.

And that's a bad thing. [It's half a question only. Change can be frightening, but it's never been something he's backed down from. He doesn't think it stops Cassel, either.]

I'm not good enough.

[This is quiet. More contemplative than anything. He believes that he's more than he used to be, but he doesn't believe he's any good.]

Yes you are.

[He doesn't know how to put it all into words; he's so good with them, when he's describing something else, when he's undoing a contact with a few words, a touch, but he's never been good at putting his own feelings into sentences.]

You're a very smart, very dedicated young man. You're loyal, and you're strong. Just because you're shit with a knife is no reason to hold yourself back.

[He offers a vague almost-smile.] You've been stuck here long enough, Cassel.

I never used to be loyal.

[That's even quieter. When family's glued together with magic, what does loyalty to it even mean? Not much, when all's said and done. This is what he knows about himself: he isn't naturally loyal. He's naturally mean.]

[But then there are people like James and Vesper and Zane and fucking Chris of all people, and - maybe it's just that he doesn't know himself at all anymore.]

[His smile's wan.]

Even if I did - I don't have a home to go back to anymore. No real family that's not here.

Now you are. [He falls silent, though, because, Christ - no real family elsewhere means he has family here, and James doesn't want to think about what that means much more deeply. He doesn't want to think about whether or not he's part of that family.

So he just shrugs, keeps his expression neutral.]

There's always a deal to be made.

Deal with the devil?

[He grins crookedly.]

Mom always told me not to trust anybody, I bet she wouldn't approve of me getting cozy with Space Satan.

Was she trustworthy? [Sometimes, he knows, it gets unclear. Muddy. The people you thought would have your back - don't.]

No.

[That's all. No. She wasn't.]

[He nods, then reaches out and takes Cassel by the shoulder, squeezing a little.]

You are.

[He hunches his shoulders but, for once, doesn't move away.]

[So that's five people, he thinks. Five people who are allowed to touch him.]

If you say so.