john's mark changed in december. he hasn't been talking about it much. he was trying to bring on a transformation to see what else had changed. he broke containment. he found murphy, he didn't go looking for him and i believe him.
the moot hall was him self flagellating because he's blaming himself anyway.
he made a choice, fucked it up, now he's building a banya. don't make light that he made a choice and is doing something about it. [ Truthfully: that means something to Billy. He gets it, maybe the self-flagellation too. A small piece slots into place in an unfinished image of John in his head. ]
murphy didn't make any choices. he's going to need time. maybe a lot.
[ That's his language. He doesn't question it. But later when he approaches the property and sees a light glowing from the greenhouse, he pushes the door open and isn't surprised to see her.
He waits a moment before stepping in. It's so much warmer. It always surprises him. He means to greet her, but never gets the words out of his mouth before he reaches her, sets a hand on her waist, dips his forehead against hers.
[She’s been crying again. This is obvious, because her face is red, it’s a canvas of streaks, splotches, puffy eyes. She’s still hiccuping a little and feels furious that he’s caught her, that he has to see her cry at all.
She’s so tired. She says, with her mouth, voice raw: ] Why, when I keep disappointing you.
[Doesn’t she? First Danny, now this? But her hands are grabbing his front, small hands fisted in his jacket, nose against his, her thoughts reaching out to his to spill out:] i love you i love you i love you.
[ He was always a bit of a crybaby, but, he's not crying now, not like he had when she woke up in his arms, when she jolted back to life after days of lying prone. Maybe he's too frayed from Murphy, Jem, from the weight of the players. ]
i just do. [ he thinks back against the barrage. ] i dont know when i started.
[You knew. She didn’t know the extent, this time, until everyone else did. Is that worse? She grips his coat tighter.
Sometimes, when she looks at Eddie’s cheek, or she catches her own reflection, she wonders if it would have been better if she’d stayed asleep. Or if Quentin had buried her in the woods and not told a soul. She’d be quiet, then; as quiet as a mouse. Sometimes she hates Kieren for teaching her how to be loud. Nothing good has ever come from her loudness, has it? When she was quiet, nothing ever happened to her or around her.
She misses Kieren so much. She wishes desperately that he were here to tell her what to do. To tell her right from wrong, to point her in the right direction. She hopes to god he never comes here, too; hopes he never has to see who she is without him.
She hiccups, again; it’s a horrible wet sound. All she wants to hear is you didn’t deserve that. All she wants to hear is I trust you. But why would Billy, really, after the last two months? ]
[ He uses his mouth to say: ] Not like that. Not like you're thinking.
[ He's human. He desperately wants her to shove a knife in Danny's gut, ferociously wants her to see the world from his own perspective in everyway. Sometimes, when a disagreement bubbles up, he seizes up, convinced that's it. That she'll leave, take a bag, stop calling. What does he offer that three, four, five others can't?
Sometimes when they're in sync, he feels like he can read her mind before her thoughts bubble up against his. But he can't read her mind, can't offer platitudes when no one deserves anything they've gotten. But his thumb rubs against her side, forehead still against hers while she heaves in gasp. ]
if i didn't care, i wouldn't talk through half this shit with you. i'd just be... gone.
[She’s never doubted this, not even in the earlier days of not knowing what they were, or what they could be. She takes her hands from his chest and pulls herself back to start wiping her face; smudging over the streaks, rubbing over her tired eyes. ]
I know you love me. I love you too. [She’s just not -] I’m not making it easy. I’m sorry.
[ His hands drift up, fingers catching under the pretty sharp lines of her jaw, his thumbs rubbing over her cheeks, then under her eyes, catching moisture. ]
What do you want me to do?
[ A very real question. He knows what Murphy wants him to do, but he can't do everything everyone wants him to do. Just like they can't do what he wants them to do. A long time ago, or maybe not long ago at all, he thought he could control the people around him if he yelled loud enough, if he broke enough shit, scared them the right way. That doesn't work when you care, when you stop sleepwalking through life and try to be a part of it. ]
[Choose me. But that’s unfair, and it’s unnecessary. He’s been choosing her this whole time, in his own way. She says instead: ] Don’t leave me.
[It sounds so pathetic. It sounds so raw, sounds too clingy, too vulnerable. She sounds like some insane girlfriend sitting on someone’s couch saying please, please, don’t go. Like a hundred girls Billy dumped for less, in another life. But she loves him, and she trusts him, and she trusts that saying it is - okay. Fine. Doesn’t make her less for allowing herself to need him this badly.
She tilts her head up to look at him. The bags under her eyes are darker today; the red rim of her eyes are raw, stinging. She places her hands over his, and leans into a palm. ] And - trust me? But don’t leave me. Not you. Please.
[ Mumbled hot against her mouth, that private space they make when they're pressed close like this. Maybe it's a relief, because Billy is a raging, riotous, boyfriend deep down, isn't he? He bullies it down, has to, doesn't believe she'd choose him if he made her choose. And who would he be if he made her choose? He'd pack her bags himself.
His thumbs are wet with her tears and he doesn't know what to do with that. Knowing he did it by fighting for both of them. ]
I'm not going anywhere. [ Stubborn. But tired. He sighs. ] Sometimes, I don't even know if you need me. Not really.
Of course I need you. [The problem is she's not sure how to make him understand just how much. The problem is, she's so terrified that if he knows how much, he'll change his mind and turn the other way. Run as fast as he can, create enough distance between them to keep her away.
She doesn't want to brave, but maybe she has to, in this moment. ] Billy - you're everything. You're only thing keeping me sane. You're - [a pause; a hesitation, a consideration that this might be too much -] When I think about having to stay here - it's you that I imagine a future with. You're always in it. [There's Eddie, too - they're side by side when she thinks about a future, here. But before Eddie, it was Billy and some nice little cottage, close to the wall. It was Billy, and maybe one day - not just them. She closes her eyes, here, because she's a coward. She doesn't want to see the rejection if it's there; she doesn't want to see the regret. ] Sorry, I know that's - insane. Intense.
[ She's saying it, and he's hearing it; but it's water crashing on a rocky shore. Maybe he's too unbendable. Too resolute. Rock's can't soak up water, but they are prey to erosion. He hears it, shifts, scrabbles for how he feels, how he doesn't know how to put it to words.
He wants that too—thinks it snuck in the day he realized he wasn't going anywhere, that she wasn't either, that he loved her, that they could live here, if they never left here. Together. What that might look like, years from now. ]
No that's— [ Insane. Intense. ] Yeah. Me too.
[ He tries to bend. Erode faster. ] You have... them. Your Petre too if he's out there. [ There's a crease between his brows. It feels like there is always is. ] What the fuck am I gonna offer you that they can't?
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give it some time?
you didn't see him after he woke up.
it wasn't good.
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i heard john at the moot. what did he tell you?
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because i only know what he told the moot.
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he was trying to bring on a transformation to see what else had changed. he broke containment. he found murphy, he didn't go looking for him and i believe him.
the moot hall was him self flagellating because he's blaming himself anyway.
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it's a dangerous accident. it was a dangerous fucking accident.
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murphy didn't make any choices. he's going to need time. maybe a lot.
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He waits a moment before stepping in. It's so much warmer. It always surprises him. He means to greet her, but never gets the words out of his mouth before he reaches her, sets a hand on her waist, dips his forehead against hers.
He doesn't use his mouth. ] love you.
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She’s so tired. She says, with her mouth, voice raw: ] Why, when I keep disappointing you.
[Doesn’t she? First Danny, now this? But her hands are grabbing his front, small hands fisted in his jacket, nose against his, her thoughts reaching out to his to spill out:] i love you i love you i love you.
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i just do. [ he thinks back against the barrage. ] i dont know when i started.
you don't disappoint me.
cw: passing suicidal ideation
[You knew. She didn’t know the extent, this time, until everyone else did. Is that worse? She grips his coat tighter.
Sometimes, when she looks at Eddie’s cheek, or she catches her own reflection, she wonders if it would have been better if she’d stayed asleep. Or if Quentin had buried her in the woods and not told a soul. She’d be quiet, then; as quiet as a mouse. Sometimes she hates Kieren for teaching her how to be loud. Nothing good has ever come from her loudness, has it? When she was quiet, nothing ever happened to her or around her.
She misses Kieren so much. She wishes desperately that he were here to tell her what to do. To tell her right from wrong, to point her in the right direction. She hopes to god he never comes here, too; hopes he never has to see who she is without him.
She hiccups, again; it’s a horrible wet sound. All she wants to hear is you didn’t deserve that. All she wants to hear is I trust you. But why would Billy, really, after the last two months? ]
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[ He's human. He desperately wants her to shove a knife in Danny's gut, ferociously wants her to see the world from his own perspective in everyway. Sometimes, when a disagreement bubbles up, he seizes up, convinced that's it. That she'll leave, take a bag, stop calling. What does he offer that three, four, five others can't?
Sometimes when they're in sync, he feels like he can read her mind before her thoughts bubble up against his. But he can't read her mind, can't offer platitudes when no one deserves anything they've gotten. But his thumb rubs against her side, forehead still against hers while she heaves in gasp. ]
if i didn't care, i wouldn't talk through half this shit with you. i'd just be... gone.
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[She’s never doubted this, not even in the earlier days of not knowing what they were, or what they could be. She takes her hands from his chest and pulls herself back to start wiping her face; smudging over the streaks, rubbing over her tired eyes. ]
I know you love me. I love you too. [She’s just not -] I’m not making it easy. I’m sorry.
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What do you want me to do?
[ A very real question. He knows what Murphy wants him to do, but he can't do everything everyone wants him to do. Just like they can't do what he wants them to do. A long time ago, or maybe not long ago at all, he thought he could control the people around him if he yelled loud enough, if he broke enough shit, scared them the right way. That doesn't work when you care, when you stop sleepwalking through life and try to be a part of it. ]
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[It sounds so pathetic. It sounds so raw, sounds too clingy, too vulnerable. She sounds like some insane girlfriend sitting on someone’s couch saying please, please, don’t go. Like a hundred girls Billy dumped for less, in another life. But she loves him, and she trusts him, and she trusts that saying it is - okay. Fine. Doesn’t make her less for allowing herself to need him this badly.
She tilts her head up to look at him. The bags under her eyes are darker today; the red rim of her eyes are raw, stinging. She places her hands over his, and leans into a palm. ] And - trust me? But don’t leave me. Not you. Please.
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[ Mumbled hot against her mouth, that private space they make when they're pressed close like this. Maybe it's a relief, because Billy is a raging, riotous, boyfriend deep down, isn't he? He bullies it down, has to, doesn't believe she'd choose him if he made her choose. And who would he be if he made her choose? He'd pack her bags himself.
His thumbs are wet with her tears and he doesn't know what to do with that. Knowing he did it by fighting for both of them. ]
I'm not going anywhere. [ Stubborn. But tired. He sighs. ] Sometimes, I don't even know if you need me. Not really.
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She doesn't want to brave, but maybe she has to, in this moment. ] Billy - you're everything. You're only thing keeping me sane. You're - [a pause; a hesitation, a consideration that this might be too much -] When I think about having to stay here - it's you that I imagine a future with. You're always in it. [There's Eddie, too - they're side by side when she thinks about a future, here. But before Eddie, it was Billy and some nice little cottage, close to the wall. It was Billy, and maybe one day - not just them. She closes her eyes, here, because she's a coward. She doesn't want to see the rejection if it's there; she doesn't want to see the regret. ] Sorry, I know that's - insane. Intense.
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He wants that too—thinks it snuck in the day he realized he wasn't going anywhere, that she wasn't either, that he loved her, that they could live here, if they never left here. Together. What that might look like, years from now. ]
No that's— [ Insane. Intense. ] Yeah. Me too.
[ He tries to bend. Erode faster. ] You have... them. Your Petre too if he's out there. [ There's a crease between his brows. It feels like there is always is. ] What the fuck am I gonna offer you that they can't?
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