[Closed] misteaks' mistakes - the sequel (catchall)

[gluttoning]

Who: Mr_Misteaks and also some other people
What: In person catchall + dungeon runs
When: October thru November
Where: various, please note in headers
Content Warnings: nsfw, ED discussion Please cw in headers.

[overflow and log space for October and November]

Comments

[tablescraps]

( It's strange, how things that seemed so opaque and muddy become that much clearer with just a little talking. The intervening silence had been a lot crueler than the words that leave Barrett's lips.

Where does he begin? He looks to where Barrett's eyes would be if their gazes would meet. It's fine if Barrett needs a minute. He can take his time. )

... I think I've done a lot of things to make you doubt. So... it's not your fault, I think.

( He doesn't want to ask for blind faith. He knows he has to fix himself up, too. )

... But I wouldn't change the part of you that wants to believe in the things that I'm wary of. I'm worried about you. And it's... a lot more than I'm used to feeling, so it's hard for me to control. But... I do trust you. And I'm trying to hear you.

And if there's more I can do that I'm not... I can try, if you tell me. Sorry if I seem upset, at first. But I like talking to you. Even when it's about things like this.

[gluttoning]

[...

The words settle into crevices of silence. But Barrett lets the hand in his own earn another squeeze as he gives a slow, shallow nod, letting his eyes flick up to meet Morgan's gaze.]

I don't think anyone's ever really told me that as much as you have. That they trust me, or that they like talking to me.

[Sometimes it doesn't need to be said, like with Booker or most of his brothers. He doesn't need reminders, always operating on the assumption that the people he loves will think well of him unless he has some anchoring proof of the opposite.

Someday, maybe, he'll get to the point where he doesn't even need reassurance from Morgan. He feels, perhaps at the start of their exploration of their feelings, that he hadn't doubted so much. But the months had really stretched them both, turned them different, only to snap them back... and they had both come out of it battered and afraid.]

Maybe we need time to relearn a little again. I haven't really felt I could be just... just "Barrett" for a long time now. Even after we came back, it feels like it just never stops.

[His lip catches between his teeth, following a stray thought that winds off of the tangent drawn from exhaustion. His hands squeeze a little tighter. Safety. He knows, he knows, that Mithrun of all people will understand his feelings here... possibly on both ends of the experience.]

Being Tarvos... made my feelings turn into horrible things. Everything made me feel negative. Everything was an attack. If I had a problem, I fought it until it stopped moving or it ran, because it's the only thing that satisfied me. I looked everywhere, and saw things that weren't fair, and I was never, ever happy.

Even though he's gone now, sometimes I really feel what he left behind in my memories. It hurts, a little. Like... maybe he's left scars behind that I'm never going to be able to get rid of.

...

I don't... want to have him in my shadow. Feeling that kind of anger made me feel like I was being eaten alive by my own feelings. And I...

[Another glance to Mithrun - tired, concerned, wondering--]

...All I can wonder is if you feel it's eating you alive, too. And if it is... I wonder if it scares you, too.

[tablescraps]

( Yeah, he gets it. Both as Macha, and as Mithrun, and - he feels that flare of anger, that flare of frustration, again, toward Cubia, for doing this to Barrett. He is upset with Cubia, too, for carving up what little there is left of himself, but - Barrett? He hates these things Cubia's done to him.

He inhales, though, trying to tamp down on it, though he squeezes Barrett's hand back especially tight. Focus on the other things, like Oria suggested. On the things that don't make him angry.

Here, he hesitates. Should he be honest, even though it might not be an answer Barrett likes? Honesty is what they've striven toward, but - will it always do them good? Can he have faith in that, himself?

He exhales, gentler. )

... Yeah.

( Softly. )

But I keep thinking about... when I killed that copy of you, Hien summoned. And I start to think about what I'd do if that'd been real; if... something happens, and that's it, and... you're gone. And that eats at me, too. All of it together.

( Anger, and grief, and fear, and heartbreak. That's Macha's mark on his heart.

He brings a hand up over Barret's own, covering a hand on both sides in turn. Though his expressions are minimal in variation, often - there is strain, here, in his visage. Everything these past few months really messed with the both of them. )

... I don't like feeling these things. I just... think about the beach at Malibu. And I'd rather we be there. I'd rather we be learning... just how to be us again.

[gluttoning]

[And like a mirror, he can understand the same thing from another perspective. Even in the warm moment that had been so precious in Malibu, the same fear had lingered for Barrett as well. How long would Morgan have left, in the throes of revenge? Was there truly nothing else he could do, other than to back away?

It became a feeling that was less unrequited and more at threat of snuffing out at any moment, with no way to control it, with no way to plead for it to stop. It simply dug a hole and radiated an ache, devouring the fear that loss brought.]

...I don't like those kinds of feelings, either.

[It's both raw and nostalgic, an old friend that seems to just keep returning.

He lets out a slow breath as he leans himself forward to rest his forehead against Morgan's. Not a kiss, not quite wanting one or feeling it's appropriate, but desiring to show the closeness somehow. A little reminder that he was still here, beyond the rough exhaustion that sands out his voice in quiet tones.]

We'll get there. We've come too far not to try our hardest. I'll believe it, if you feel you can't.

...

I'll take care of myself until then. I'll be honest with you. And I'll be here to talk, even if your feelings feel impossible. [His eyes drift closed.] I wish I could take all of this away somehow. But... I know those are the best things I can do for you.

[A beat, and his eyes flutter back open, letting his thumb stroke a firm circle in Mithrun's palm.]

Can I bring you to the hotspring when we're both healed up? We don't have to do anything. We can just talk. Tell stories, eat eggs and drink sake. Maybe fall asleep for a while.

[tablescraps]

( The feeling of Barrett's forehead against his is nice. Somewhere between a hug and hands held - it feels almost like a phrase, an articulation he doesn't know the words to, but he's come to understand.

It's hard to feel convinced in the moment that Barrett will care for himself just because he's promised it - just as he's sure it's hard for Barrett to feel convinced Mithrun will care for himself just because he's promised it. He slips up. Barrett will probably slip up, too. But... if anything, Mithrun cares to be fair toward Barrett. He asks for Barrett's faith, and acknowledgment that he's trying - so he feels it only right to do the same. Even when it's hard. Maybe especially when it's hard.

Though it's subtle, his expression seems to light faintly when Barrett suggests the hotsprings. )

... I'd like that. Something... simple.

( It feels weird to say, almost. He's always in motion when he knows there's work to be done, so asking for this almost feels like asking to be inefficient - to waste time, and let danger come to pass. That fear bites at his heels, at his back. Keep burning fuel - lest the flame go out, and the darkness come.

But it's a lot easier to square his shoulders against it, when he's got Barrett here to warm him. )

... I'll take care of myself, too. What you give me, I'll give you in return. Because... ( His gaze drops to their hands, and his lips part, but his voice hesitates - before he decides, in the end, to commit to it. ) I think... before I died, as Macha, I - think in some way, I decided against revenge. And I... decided, recently - I'd continue my research.

So - I'll take you to a real hot springs, when we leave. I'll... still be there.

( He still needs to figure out how the weight of living feels to carry; it's been heavy on his shoulders, and he doesn't know if he's learned to want that yet. So he isn't sure it's really - he thinks this isn't really enough to assuage the fears Barrett had about him. And so he doesn't argue it as such, as a final and proper answer. But it's something, right? Something beyond Cubia, beyond Fragment. Something simple they will reach, that will make this all worth it, in the end. )