altimit | [Closed] misteaks' mistakes

I don't know your motive, Morgan, I...

[How does he put this, while backed into a corner that feels much smaller than it is? He can feel the irritation radiating off Morgan.]

I can't tell sometimes. It's not because I don't trust you. But I can't read your mind. And I'm not...

I don't think I'm smart enough to notice things. Not like that.

( :T )

You're smarter than you think you are.

( Squishes his cheeks together to get his aggression out... It's rough, but at least he's not pulling Barrett's hair. He releases it, after a moment. )

I'm trying to understand you. But I won't understand if you don't explain it to me, either. And I'm trying not to assume. So I have to ask.

[is squished...

It's an oddly soft gesture for a pissed off Mithrun, one that lapses him into silence.

...

A large part of him wants to reiterate what he'd said before. Nothing's wrong. He has it under control. But... he'd told Mithrun he was having problems weeks ago, hadn't he? It just hadn't come of his own volition.]

I...

I didn't want to tell you. Back at the ferris wheel. I didn't want you to know anything.

I don't want you to look at it. I don't want anyone to look at it. But people keep asking.

I... I have it under control. I have to. I feel awful if I don't-- don't do something. Like... like some part of me is starving, no matter what.

I can't...

[No, that's not right. Can't isn't a right word. He knows that, from what therapy still remains. But it feels like ripping a bandaid from a wound that runs raw, gritting his teeth.]

I...

I feel... like it's all I can do. To make this feeling go away.

Edited 2023-10-14 12:47 (UTC)

( Yeah, he knows Barrett didn't want him to know - anyone to know. He knows. And he knows he doesn't want to talk about it now. But he can't ignore it when he knows it's festering. With everything else that's happened to him and Barrett - asking about it fell to the wayside. It seemed like it'd make the stress even more stressful. But there's no real avoiding it now.

He lets his hands fall against the pillow, his fingers running through Barrett's hair, stroking his head. He's listening. He catches the way Barrett corrects himself in a better direction. )

... It's fine if you don't have to have it under control.

( He wants to hold onto that point, because that seems to be where the rub, the If I don't, I'll— seems to be. )

You're stressed. Right?

[But it's not fine at all, habit screams. It tenses him up, speaks his resistance even as his mouth stays shut.]

...Yeah. But... so is everyone else.

I want to be able to handle it.

( He can feel Barrett going tense, and it's hard, because... He's trying to be conscientious, but even his most conscientious is direct and blunt. He's trying, but sometimes trying isn't enough to make the right sentiment convey. It's frustrating. )

You're treating the symptom, not the cause. The symptom is hunger, ( and all the stuff that comes after - the whole cycle, sounds like, ) and the cause is stress.

You can manage stress. But everyone has a different way of doing it. You just have to find the way that works for you. This way's just making you tired.

( and he knows that because you told him it was tiring you !!! well, fakerun, but still. )

But I'm doing what makes me happy.

[In excess. Losing the joy from it. Eating until he wants to throw up. Exercising until he wants to pass out. Fighting the anger out and downing potions to avoid the inevitable snap that he knows is waiting for him.]

It's helping. I stay on top of it, and I feel better, and I...I can stand being tired. That doesn't matter to me. I do it because it works, and if it stop working, I...

I just have to try harder.

( Brows furrow... )

Why?

...I just do. [Incredible logic.]

It's something I know I can do. I can push myself and keep getting better. Doing more.

[Something he can control in the midst of uncontrollable things... even if what he controls is his own slow destruction.]

It makes me feel horrible when I can't.

( Stroking his head, fingers running through his hair... )

... It's fine if it doesn't work for you. You can try something else. Something you don't have to push yourself to do, but makes you feel better.

It doesn't have to be this.

[He bristles slightly, frown deepening, but not meeting Mithrun's eyes with the flare of anger.]

It's not fine.

I can't just stop.

( Sees the bristle, notes it, but is undeterred. )

Why?

I just can't.

[The bite of the words is shorted. Another can't, another incorrect word. Ugh.]

I don't... like how I feel, when I stop. I always feel I have to go back to it. Being in the hospital for a week was torture.

You can wean off it.

( Petting... It sounds to him like dropping an addiction - stopping cold turkey doesn't always have benefits. )

... And you can always come to me. Even though I know you don't want to, because you don't want me to know. But... I'm not going to think less of you.

No matter what you do, you'll always be strong to me.

[It renders him completely silent, a frustrated twist to his brow as he lets his eyes close under the motions of Morgan's hands.

But when he opens them again, the harshness has gone. He looks tired. Lost.]

Thank you.

[His fingers find Morgan's. Contact. Certainty. Nothing more than a brush of fingers, but needing something.]

...I wish I could be as sure as you. I couldn't last the last time.

Maybe I'm just not meant to.

( If he'd had those memories, still, he could talk about how he went from vegetable to where he is now, but... those memories no longer exist in him, and what still remains remains in patchwork, poorly cut and badly sewn in. )

... I'll be certain for you. I'll carry it, the way I know you're enough, the way I know you're strong. Until you come to know it for yourself.

( No matter how bad it gets, he'll carry it all - until the weight crushes him, too. Like he'd done with Niamh.

He squeezes his hand... )

I won't let you burn out. Not for you. Not for anyone else.

Edited 2023-10-15 02:08 (UTC)

...

[He squeezes back, leaning his weight close, downwards, to put a trembling kiss to Morgan's temple.]

I won't let you waste away, either. No matter what you've been told.

If I have to fight my way to the head of CCCorp with my bare hands to get you back, I will. If I have to fight all the Waves by myself, I will. I'll make sure we have memories together again. Ones we both know are true.

[Ones he would fight for.

Avenge for.]

I won't let you lose yourself a second time, Morgan. Stay with me. As long as you can.

I'll take care of you.

Edited 2023-10-15 02:26 (UTC)

( Ah... )

... I always feel so sure things are impossible until I talk to you.

( Maybe one day he can do the same for Barrett, too.

He he rolls his shoulders a little, shifting the blankets better over them both, keeping them a little better warm. He knows... that taking care of others is how Barrett expresses love, and it softens him. )

... I promise. ( A promise for all those things. No matter how impossible the task, or even if Barrett's goal may want day change, he'll fight with Barrett for it. ) And... if someone tries to hurt you, I'll strike them down.

( Interlocking their fingers, he leans in to press his lips light to Barrett's opposite temple, in a mirrored motion. )

I won't let anyone separate us.

( He'll be there for him, no matter what that costs. )

[This feels familiar, in a distant way. Like a promise he might have made to someone close.

He wishes he could remember. But the wish fades fast. This promise belongs to Morgan now. And the though of anything, anyone getting in the way of that...

It fills his chest with fire. A new and unfamiliar warmth that guides his hands to wrap that much tighter against Morgan, to pull them together and make sure. Make sure he knows the feelings are here. Make sure he knows Barrett does not want him to leave.

Stay. Let him keep you.

Let him cradle this new feeling, however agonizing it is. A need to chase down what has caused a loss like an animal intent after its prey. An eye for an eye. Blood for blood. Vibrant and passionate and licking at his temper like a flame.

For now, it only smoulders in wisps of smoke. A flame at rest in the kiln of the earth. The embers of what is left of Morgan Chatainne wrapped up in his arms as though it might contain the heat as long as possible.

If the earth had to move to let fire have its way again... then let him rumble and crack. Let him erupt and explode.

Just let the one he loves go free.]

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

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