altimit | [Closed] misteaks' mistakes

( *tucking up his **head against the crook of Barrett's neck... sleep crime typos.......

His brows furrow as Barrett clears his throat, concerned.

He doesn't have to think on this one much at all. )

... You. The sheets, your clothes - but you, most of all. You're warm. You're firm, but soft.

[One of his hands slowly moves up Morgan's back, the full press of his forearm slowly stretched across his shoulders, keeping him close.]

The air is colder outside the bed. Can you tell?

( Quiet, focusing... Shifting to get that much more comfortable in Barrett's arms, like a puzzle piece fit against him. )

... I think so. I can feel how warm your neck is against my head, and how the side without you is cool.

( ... )

... We... did this at Twilight Shoreline once, didn't we? You kissed me...

( It feels a little vague in his memory, but... )

[...

He leans in to press a kiss to Morgan's hair, grip tightening slightly.]

It was in Malibu. On a Thursday.

We were on the beach together. The sun was setting, just like Twlight Shoreline. But you could see all the houses down the beach. You could see your back porch. Hani was wearing red that day. Cael was out there, on his wheelchair.

You'd only been out of the hospital for a couple days. I couldn't stay long, because I had a football game that weekend. But I flew out to see you, from Berkeley.

We took our shoes off, and we walked through the water. We talked about this then. Closing your eyes and finding things you smell and touch and taste and hear. Things to help you remember... you're here.

...I kissed you then. You asked me to stay, and I... told you no, back then.

( His heart falters.

Mithrun is quiet, listening. It feels familiar; and yet, foreign, and strange. He tries to imagine what Barrett's seeing; tries to place them on some Malibu beach, but - he can't picture it. He knows of Malibu. He doesn't know its beaches.

Barrett remembers the same beats, the same feelings - almost. But it's different. There's a disconnect. And only Mithrun knows the version he lived, the version he remembers. He can't even share that with Barrett. That's hard. )

... Why?

Edited 2023-10-13 22:17 (UTC)

...

I was scared.

[It's a careful admission, the words barely stringing together, fragile in their weight.]

I knew what you wanted more than you could want a life with me. When I thought about having to watch you be so angry for what was left of your life, and have to watch you walk to your own death because nothing else mattered more to you...

...

I didn't feel strong enough. All I could think about was what happened to Lily. And I knew that... even if I told you yes, and stood by you, I wouldn't ever treat you the same. I wouldn't give you the care you deserve, because I think... I would be too afraid you would be gone before I could have the chance to live a life with you. To tell you how much I loved you someday.

...I didn't want to do that to you. To treat you like that.

( oh, love

He thinks he understands now - what he said about the professor. He holds this all quiet in his head, his chest feeling a little sick. Then, he... lifts his head, propping himself on his elbows, and he - takes Barrett's face in both his hands, very gently, his expression mixed; a tinge of loneliness, a strange look of fear, and then - strangely bright clarity, in his one good eye. )

... But I don't want that anymore. So... you could stay with me, if you wanted. You don't have to be afraid anymore.

...

Morgan...

[He meets that look with one that's pained, confused, exhausted. There's a flicker of frustration, though he tries to swallow it down, letting one of his hands come to rest overtop Morgan's touch.]

I'm sorry. There's... a lot to be afraid of now.

If that isn't what you want anymore, do... do you know why? Do you know what you DO want?

Edited 2023-10-13 22:48 (UTC)

( His hands fall from Barrett's face. )

... Again...

( "No" again. But some part of him knew that'd be Barrett's answer.

He lets his face drop, his forehead against the crook between collarbone and neck, and he's quiet. He's quiet, he's quiet.

He knew, he knows. )

... Mm. I'm starting to remember what I'm for.

( He doesn't say anything else right now. )

[The cold silence sits, as though something irreparably wrong had just been said. The distance grows despite how close they are, and Barrett finds his anger rising. Not at Morgan. But at himself. Why had he bothered to say those things? What could he even do here? He was supposed to be getting better. Stronger, for this. For this. Was he never going to be good enough?

Maybe this was his punishment?

...

...]

...

Would you tell me?

I want to understand. But I'm afraid right now because I don't understand, Morgan. I don't... know what it is that's making you feel this way.

[His face leans into silver locks, his arms still keeping him held tight. Like trying to hold onto a flame that doesn't want to be contained. Trying not to snuff it out, but fearing it might escape and disappear.]

We wanted to do this together. I told you, I don't want to run away from you.

Please. [A plea.] Please talk to me.

( He's quiet for a long while, smothered in his arms.

Eventually, he speaks, though his face does not lift, though his voice strains with some pain: )

... I spoke to Lily... and he helped me remember...

( He inhales, his breath shaky; his head pounds, but he still speaks. )

... My purpose... to love and be unloved... To be loved and fail to love in return... To witness these things in others... Here, in this world...

( He swallows hard, feeling - the loss, the barrage of loss, the shift, the turbulent changes, with every word he speaks. And still, he speaks: )

... He told me my name...

( Not asked, told.

Suddenly there's a jerk - a deep guttural yowl like an animal, where he presses his palms to his forehead to soothe it. He's breathing hard, shuddering, pained. That was a lot. That took away a lot.

He shouldn't have told Barrett any of this, but he can't help but want to think that if he tells him enough, he'll tell him "yes," in turn. Even knowing he won't, even knowing he won't. )

... But your fear is stronger than how much you want to be with me...

...!

[His arms immediately release when Morgan screeches in pain - Barrett crawling back slightly, sitting up, hands against Morgan's shoulders, trying to get a better look at what's happening. Why is Morgan in so much pain?? What happened, what happened--]

Morgan... Morgan, shh... [He doesn't want to continue this conversation. He wants to ease this pain, he wants to take it back. Something horrific is happening to Morgan, and Lily... was this really Lily? Why would...

...

No. No, he said he wouldn't run.

His hands find Morgan's face - not pulling Morgan to him, but curling against him, resting his own skull against Morgan's, not wanting to stop the touch. He's here, he wants to be here, how does he explain--]

I'm scared because I don't want to be without you, Morgan. I don't. And I feel like... like no matter what I do, I can't keep you.

What do I have to do to keep you??

( The proximity helps. The physical comfort helps. The words help. He hears him, vaguely, his breath shuddering awful, his head a swamp, a swamp, of ones and zeroes.

When he speaks, his voice is weak - struggling beneath the weight, but refusing to be snuffed out - weak, but soft; and that much, at least, is his intention. He isn't gone yet. )

... What does "keeping" me look like... to you? What does... when you close your eyes, and you think of it— what do you see?

[Morgan's breathing shudders, and Barrett holds him tighter - shifting himself on the bed to try and keep them close. Heads at his face, in his hair.]

You. Old and wrinkled on a comfortable chair. By the beach. With as little regrets as you could have.

I wanted to see it for you and your brother... Just as much as I wanted to see it for Booker. Being together, and happy. Learning as much as we could... Going through good and bad for as long as we could.

[It must feel impossible now, if Morgan is questioning his own existence. A lack of a life to live, a lack of a person to grow old.]

I don't want you to give up yet. [He swallows hard.] I don't want you to lose your fight yet.

[It's one of the things he loves most. To see the fire snuffed away... What would be left?]

Edited 2023-10-14 00:50 (UTC)

( ...

He's quiet, he's quiet. He doesn't think it possible, if what he's come to know is true - and it feels so true; it feels so certain. But...

Softly, softly: )

... I can try.

( Barrett stands at the shore, and he never comes near enough for him to drown. But love is wanting to become something you're not, like a mermaid bound to sea. )

Despite everything, ( despite what he may be, despite their circumstance, despite how much harder it is to imagine the future Barrett tries so hard to describe, despite everything, ) I want to be yours.

( Even if he can't. )

[It feels like trying to get control over a panel of glass thats tilting so far that it might shatter. Which was does he go, to keep this steady?

How hard will he have to mourn, for the person that's slipping away, for the one he felt safe with?

...

His face leans back into Mithrun's hair. The kiss lingers. His throat burns.]

I won't leave you. Okay? Please... don't leave me, either.

Let's get through this. Whatever it is that's happening to us. You can ask me whatever you want. We can make a plan. Start small.

[Trying to make sense of the carefully constructed building of their relationship that is now crumbling down to the foundations. When your love is built on something that claims to be falsehoods, what steadiness is left?]

I want to be yours, too. I... don't want to believe that Fragment is all you have. Not until I see it with my own eyes.

Even then... I'm not going to leave you.

Edited (Typos :() 2023-10-14 02:28 (UTC)

... Thank you.

( The words escape with an exhale, and, slowly, he lifts his head. His expression's softened, his gaze wet - like when Barrett said he'd still have him if he were scraps, when Barrett told him he could still become stock.

It's impossible, it's impossible. But maybe it would worth it after all, even if it meant walking on glass, even if it meant falling away into sea foam. He's just too stubborn to give up on love, even knowing it wasn't meant for him. We know that if he'd known to give up on Niamh, well - he wouldn't be here, would he?

He cups Barrett's face in his hands, careful. )

... I won't leave you, either. I feel steady with you. ( Reiterating what he'd said before. ) I feel like myself. And I'll keep this space here for you... so you can feel safe.

( And, not that he feels himself, exactly, it's more - he feels at ease being himself, whatever that is, anymore. It's been stressful - finding so rapidly that the things he'd believed were false, finding that there was no one else like him, not yet. It was awful feeling alone. But - as long as Barrett won't leave... he feels like the earth beneath him's steady enough to stand on. At least for now.

It doesn't matter what he loses on the way - himself, or his memories, or his reason for loving him. As long as Barrett is still there— just like with Niamh, he can lose sight of the point of love so easily. He just needs Barrett there. That's it. That's all.

He presses a gentle kiss to Barrett's lips, brief. He seems less agitated for now, and though he settles back against his chest, he doesn't move back far from his face. )

... Can you tell me... what is it you're gone doing, every day, for those two hours? What is it Lily's asking of you?

[He sees that look, one he's only noted once or twice before. Tears that don't quite fall. It has his own expression muddling down its anxiety with compassion, concern, a slight bit of relief, even as his hands slip to rest against Morgan's neck, one cupping against the back of his skull as their lips meet. It's fragile, so fragile, whatever this has become. He doesn't know where to direct this anger that builds in him at the thought of what's happened here. To Lily? No. Why would Lily do this? What was Lily trying to tell him that had gone so wrong? Had something else intervened?

It's only fitting the topic moves to Lily in tandem. Barrett exhales slowly, returning his arms to gently wrap against Morgan, to pull the blanket back up to his waist.]

...It's not by his request.

He's lonely. And when I got hurt, with my leg... I'd never seen him so worried. He thought I might never come back.

He says that he's learned a lot from me. Compassion and kindness. So... I try to spend time with him. So he doesn't forget--

[There's a sharp inhale from the redhead, his eyes screwing shut as he tightens his grip against Morgan, leaning his head back and breathing hard through his nose for several long moments. It hurts. It didn't used to hurt like this.

But he wants to be honest. He wants it.]

( Ah, oh, he understands what this is, it's the same as him; and for a moment there is an anger with Lily; and then it falls softer, as if landing on snow - without the same impact as as it used to have even a day ago - though he remains angry, though he remains protective of Barrett. The target of his feelings remains vague, and indistinct. Not focused on Lily, or anyone, like it was before.

He has questions. But there is this first, there is this first and foremost. He lifts his hands, his own head still pounding residual, and he lays his his first two fingers on either side of his temples, and gently begins to rub there - testing. )

... Does this help the ache? I think it helps me.

( He just doesn't do it because he never attends to his body's needs. )

[His chest rises and falls, trying to push through how sharp the world now feels. But the warmth at the sensitive parts of his skull are a welcome distraction, even if the pain itself doesn't falter under it.

He swallows weakly, giving a nod.]

A little.

Is this what you felt at the meeting, too? When Okoto was prying at us with... with that name.

( "A little" is enough. He rubs circular with a little more force, trying to soothe the pain there is. He knows it doesn't fix it, but - he's so bad at doing nothing. )

... Yes. Before that, I just felt like something was wrong, every time I... said things.

( His tail flicks, and he frowns, pursing his lips - in that same particular way he did constantly throughout the meeting, every other time he spoke up. It seems like he was hitting on a lot of things he wasn't supposed to be saying, and pushing through the conversation anyway.

Trying to discuss Harald Hoerwick and trying to tell Barrett about his purpose - those were when he'd felt the worst aches.

... )

... Do you... remember things, too, after you forget? I— ( Tail flicks, a little - a minor sensation. ) I didn't realize I was forgetting or remembering things until Sinclair started asking...

( Purses lips. )

Edited 2023-10-14 06:27 (UTC)

[His hand lifts to rest against Morgan's head in return - a steady heat and pressure with his palm, even as his fingers stroke that strange new cat-like ear that rests at the top of his head.]

...I don't know. I'm not sure if I've forgotten anything.

You told me that picture was my family. [A picture that is now completely absent from the room.] I... don't know if it was. I didn't recognize anyone, except for me and my brother and sister.

...What sort of things do you remember, that you think you forgot?

( It doesn't dismiss the pain or the feeling of loss, but he thinks he likes Barrett's hand there better than not. He seems to press into the touch, instinctive, as Barrett strokes his ear - it's pretty soft, like a long-haired cat's fur. Softe catte... )

... Mm. I wonder if there's traces of your past memories in your messages. That's what Sinclair suggested to me. I wonder if the memories you forgot were fake, ( you know, like Mithrun's! ) or...

( He trails off, considering - thinking about Barrett's question. )

... Sinclair said I visited him in a place called Seattle. I went to the sharehouse he lived in... He was trying to get me to work at his company, instead of... doing revenge? ( Unsure. ) He said he visited me in Malibu, he said I had an apartment there, a brother... And there was someone who killed his family - someone I was trying to help him kill...

( He closes his eyes. )

I don't remember those things.

Edited 2023-10-14 06:58 (UTC)

...I don't know. I don't feel anything is fake. But... there's a lot that feels fuzzy. Like I slept through it or something.

...I'll have to look.

[Later. Not now. For now, he strokes Morgan's ear slowly, letting his fingertips find his way into silver locks.]

Did Sinclair telling you all that... did it help? I know your Malibu apartment. That's where I went to see you, too. Where we went to the beach.

... Tell me what you find.

( This, he says with no particular motive, besides a pulsing desire to be there for Barrett. At least Barrett wouldn't feel alone. At least he'd have somewhere to be vulnerable, if he let himself be.

If Mithrun could purr soft, he might just be. His body language, from his ears to the expression on his face, is very much like a content cat. )

Help... Did it help me remember, you mean? ... No. You still don't remember your family despite what I've said, right...?

( Same hat, it seems. )

... But I'm fine with what I've forgotten. As long as I still remember the important things... Even though I don't like that it's not the same as you remember it...

( ... )

... Where do you go when you disappear suddenly? Like... you did in front of me and Nanashi. Why did he give you that power?

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