ArchivedLogs:Falling Apart

Falling Apart
Dramatis Personae Shane, Micah
In Absentia	3 January 2014 Everyone's a worryface.  :( (Takes place directly after visiting with Hive.)
Location <NYC> 303 {Lighthaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome, though of late myriad bright-coloured dragonflies swarm across the living room wall. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. The living room and kitchen both hold a rather inordinate number of lamps in addition to the ceiling lights; standing lamps, small lamps on each counter, large sunlights in the corner. More often than not, they're largely all turned on, too. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within. Outside the snow is piling up, but in here it is warm. Warm from the shepherd's pie cooking in the oven, warm from the space heater filling up the living room. It's /darker/ than usual by far -- there's a light on in the kitchen that provides illumination and from behind Spencer's closed bedroom door there's light, too, but the twins and their dark-adapted eyes have not bothered with Jax's usual complement of a /million/ lights. So by the apartment's usual standards: Dark. There's a small pile of Shark in the beanbag. Sebastian is asleep, curled up snug with a damp towel draped over him but no other clothing. Shane is dressed, at least, pinstriped slacks and dress shirt, bowtie and vest for now discarded over the arm of the couch. He is tucked into the oversized beanbag along with Sebastian, eyes scanning the screen of his Nook and his free hand gently petting at the gills at the side of Sebastian's neck. Daiki has fallen asleep, too, at Shane's other side, on a beanbag of his own but with his head resting against the side of the twins' bag; it's early yet and none of them have made it to bed but with as tumultuous as things have been lately, finding enough peace of mind /to/ sleep has been hard for /everyone/. Micah's feet land in front of the door and just...stop as he regards it for a moment. The light coming from inside, though dimmer than usual, reminds him that /other people/ will likely be on the other side of the door. He stops to run the sleeve of his Batsignal hoodie over his eyes and finger-comb his hair out of the rather /extreme/ muss it had been put in by Hive's grasping fingers. He tugs at his 'UNSTOPPABLE!' T-rex T-shirt and his jeans to straighten them, the whole of him in a considerable state of disarray that he hadn't thought to correct as he walked down the stairs. His teeth meet with his lower lip. So, he's returning with one less Hive and two fewer mugs that anticipated. He takes a deep breath, digs his key out of his pocket, and opens the door. Shane glances up, black eyes fixing across on Micah and his nose twitching in a quick inhale. "Hi." His voice is very soft as the door opens, out of respect for his sleeping companions. "He okay?" His brow rumples together. "/You/ okay?" Noting the sleeping forms across the room, Micah pushes the door to very softly. His voice may have been soft even without the consideration, but also is rough when he speaks. “I'm...yeah. Hive...” His cheeks colour as his eyes track upward. “He'll be down after he showers. For dinner.” Micah moves to the kitchen to fill a glass with cold water, downing half of it at once before returning to the living room and sinking into the couch, continuing to sip slower from the glass. Shane's nose twitches again. The look he gives Micah is a little startled. "-- After he showers," he repeats. His head shakes as though to clear it of some thought. Very gently, he shifts his hip away from Daiki's head, moves Sebastian's off his lap. He tucks the damp towel higher over Bastian and slips away towards the couch. He drops to a crouch in front of Micah, hands resting on the other man's knees and his eyes searching Micah's face with a /frown/ at the roughness of Micah's tone. "Are you crying." Micah's eyes are rather /firmly/ fixed on his water glass. Repeated sips of water serve as the only reply to the repetition about showering. Shane very conveniently asks his question in the present tense. “No,” Micah responds simply to the water glass. Sip. Shane's fingers press down firmer against Micah's knees. He leans in, slightly, sniffing now closer to Micah. He doesn't seem particularly satisfied with Micah's answer, dropping his head with a brief ripple of gills to press his forehead to robo!knee. "Do you want hugs?" The sniffing brings a brighter flush to Micah's cheeks, well aware as he is by now of just how accurate the twins' noses are at figuring out precisely what he's been up to. He finally sets the glass aside on a table. Biting his lip slightly, he finally looks down at Shane. Not quite meeting his eyes. He nods once. Shane climbs up onto the couch beside Micah immediately at this answer, one leg folded underneath himself and the other hooked over Micah's knee. His arms wrap around Micah tight, pulling him in close for a fierce squeeze. Micah's arms wrap tight around the teen's slight frame, letting himself be dragged closer. His shoulders quiver faintly with a slightly shuddery breath as his forehead falls against Shane's shoulder. "{I love you.}" Shane whispers it fiercely, too, in quiet Vietnamese. His fingers rub at Micah's back, other hand sliding up to curl gently against the back of Micah's head. Cradling Micah close, squeezing tighter at the quiver of shoulders and shudder of breath. "{I love you} and we're going to get through all this and I /love/ you." He presses a kiss to Micah's temple, hand still rubbing slow circles between Micah's shoulder blades. "I love you, too, honey," Micah replies, voice gone from just rough to strained with his throat starting to feel tight again. He leans into Shane's embrace, just letting his eyes scrunch closed. "I'm sorry." This is whispered in shaky Vietnamese. "I shouldn't be...this. There's enough. I...mmn. Makin' an art form of makin' things worse for everybody around me lately. Maybe I just oughtta stop...tryin' t'fix things." His shoulders sag, the weight of his forehead heavier on the teen's shoulder. "No. No, no, no," Shane whispers; his cheek presses to the top of Micah's head which makes the shake of his head just muss Micah's hair more again. "No, you're -- Micah, Ba, no, without you we'd be lost. It's just, it's /okay/ to need help too. Everything's fucked up as /hell/. You're allowed to be hurting. You're even allowed to be falling apart." He kisses the top of Micah's head, hand still rubbing at Micah's back and the hold his arms still tight. "I'm really strong, you know." His arms squeeze in a little tighter, then loosen before they can cut off /air/. "I mean it's all heavy but we can help. Hold it. You." “It'd be...one thing if I'd have the good graces t'just quietly fall apart in a corner. But...no. I...make everybody upset. An' then get half of everyone charged with...terrorism. An' /then/ make everybody who's /left/ more upset than they already were 'cause everyone's bein' charged with terrorism.” Shane's shoulder does dampen slightly by this point. “I keep tryin'...t'make things better. An' they just keep gettin' worse.” Micah pulls in as deep a breath as he can manage past his constricting throat and Shane's squeezing hug. "Shhhh," this might be just meaningless soothing though with the surveillance in their house of late, it's rather /firmer/ than would be warranted just for that. Shane's hand curls against the back of Micah's head, holding it against his shoulder. His claws curl inward in very gentle scritching through Micah's hair. "/You/ didn't do shit, Malthus -- that video was sick. And /nonsense/. And /not your fault/." He kisses Micah's hair again, body shifting in gentle-slow rocking as he holds Micah close. "And don't you /fucking dare/ fall apart quiet in a corner. We're /all/ here for you, you /tell/ us when you need. Anything. Ever. And we'll help hold you together." "{Sorry}," Micah repeats in that same shaky Vietnamese. He tucks in tighter to Shane's shoulder. "If...it wouldn't. It wouldn't be happenin' now. Maybe not...ever. Maybe not...for a really long time. I don't... I think I broke Hive a little." He bites down on his lower lip, then reconsiders. "A little more." His head shakes, not /really/ wanting to get into the details of what happened, considering. "He might move in, though. You mind if one of us uses your room while y'all are at school?" He sniffs and rubs his palms over his eye sockets, sitting up straighter to try and hold a normal conversation like an /adult/. One hand grabs his water glass, starting the process of slow sips all over again. Shane just holds Micah through this, lips pressing again to the top of his mussed hair. His grip slackens when Micah sits up; he doesn't move, though, nestling closer still against Micah's side. "Hive's beena fucking mess for --" He frowns uncomfortably. "Too long," he admits. "Don't know how to help." His gills flutter once, and his fingers move from rubbing at Micah's back to rubbing at his side. "I don't mind if you use our room while we're /here/. But yeah that's fine are you -- is he. I guess it's lonely up there now." “Thank you, but...I should only need it when y'all aren't here. S'yours when you're here.” Micah shakes his head, patting at Shane's arm as he settles back into his corner of the couch. “It's flippin' /eerie/ up there now. S'all...dark an' quiet an' /empty/.” He cringes, stops himself, takes a deep breath, and sips from the glass again. Shane turns his head, eyes tracking over to the door of Jax and Micah's bedroom. A small shudder shivers up him, and he curls in against Micah, tucking /his/ head now against Micah's shoulder. "Here, too." Micah's eyes track away, too, but his scan over Daiki's and 'Bastian's sleeping forms, over the light streaming under Spencer's door. "No. It's...not right without 'im here, but it's not...not like it is up there. He's just sittin' in 'is room with all the lights out an' /everyone/ is gone." That last draws another shuddery breath. Micah repeats the process of pause, deep breath, sip of water. Shane's gills flutter again briefly, his eyes sliding closed. "Yeah." It's rough and quiet and then he is silent. For a time, at least. "Do you think Dusk is going to die? I saw him once. When he stopped eating. /Really/ stopped eating. It didn't -- it wasn't." He presses closer still against Micah, signing 'sorry' in a small motion. "They need to come home." Micah's free arm slips around Shane's shoulders, pulling him up against his side. “We're not gonna let 'im die. I met with a disability lawyer this afternoon. She's s'posed t'go talk with the authorities an' fight t'get 'im transfusions. For his 'medical condition'. It won't...hardly keep 'im fed none, but it'll keep 'im /alive/ while we wait for all our work with these videos t'pan out. Buy us time.” His arm squeezes tighter. “Yeah, they do. Don't even know...what Flicker's doin'.” "Freezing," Shane whispers. His leg uncurls, joining the other in its drape over Micah's lap. "It's /so cold/ now. Pretty much half the country just -- so. So cold." His fingers curl in harder against Micah's side, claws prickling into the sweatshirt. "Not enough blood for him and not enough light for Pa and. And you --" His head lifts and bonks back down lightly against Micah's shoulders. "... I get a little worried you're going to wither away, too." "Teleporter. Maybe...he'll stay in hostels. Or pop into empty hotel rooms. Or unleased apartments. Or even...off-season time shares an' summer homes. All kindsa places t'stay warm in when y'don't have t'worry about the breakin' part of breakin' an' enterin'." Micah gives Shane's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "He's a bright kid. He should...be able t'figure things out. An' at least be exceptionally hard t'pin down, if nothin' else." His eyes are drawn down to Shane's claws, that worry that their curling betrays. "Seems like it's the worst of us who keep gettin' put in cages. You'n B needin' water an' so much protein. Jax's light. Dusk's blood. S'just...the worst folks t'be in the care of people who /don't/...care." His hand squeezes at Shane's upper arm. "I won't, honey. I got too much t'do for all that. An' I promised I'd eat any time someone told me to, didn't I? An' whenever Spence eats. An' when you an' B go back t'school an' can't pester me /personally/, I'll set alarms t'make sure I eat at least three times a day, if all those other things aren't enough. Okay? I'll have me a /belly/ soon enough." A corner of his mouth attempts to twitch upward. "He's so /good/ though. I just hope he's not /dumb/ and actually goes and finds himself an empty place if it's -- it's /so/ /cold/." Shane's claws prick in harder against Micah's side, and then relax. "Pa would feed Dusk I bet. If they let him." He gives a small nod at Micah's reassurances. His hand moves to Micah's stomach, rubbing in a small circle. "Good. That's good. I didn't mean food though. I just." His eyes tip up towards the ceiling for a moment. His head turns back to nuzzle in against Micah's shoulder. "Feel like you'll shrivel up and die without enough cuddles. You're -- really touchy." "He's good, but who's it hurt t'sit in an empty buildin' t'keep from freezin' t'death? Not nobody. He'd be...all polite an' tidy an' if anythin' the place would look /better/ after he left. He won't let 'imself freeze, honey. He'll...take care of 'imself, I'm sure." Micah manages to sound /entirely/ more certain of this than he feels. "I'm sure Jax would." He frowns. "I'm sure they /won't/." He sighs, drinking again from his glass. Little circles of red burn bright in Micah's cheeks at Shane's clarification, in light of what just went on upstairs. "I...mmn. Will live. I don't always need t'be right on top of everyone." He mutters this last with a subtle hint of self-chastisement. Shane closes his eyes, cheek pressing to Micah's shoulder. "I didn't mean that like a bad thing. It's okay to need people. I just worry. Because when we got back to school /you'll/ be mostly alone here and I don't -- want. You to wither up and die. There's nothing /wrong/ with being on top of anybody." Micah's flush only deepens with that reassurance. “I'll be fine, honey. Not gonna be alone here. Tag's here an' Spence. An' Hive's s'posed t'move down. Y'know how long I lived in m'van before I met y'all when I moved up here? Was /months/. Didn't really know /nobody/ but Janine an' Sam an' Jake. Just...kept so busy it didn't really...” He shakes his head, flushing brighter yet, and hides behind his water glass. "It's different," Shane whispers, tightening his grip on Micah. "Do you know how long /we/ lived in --" He shudders, just pressing closer to Micah's side. "... I don't want to go back. Every time I /blink/ someone else has been taken and I don't want to be out a million fucking miles away from you and Spence and Hive and Ryan all goddamn week." “It's not that far, honey. An'...I'll see you'n B on the nights that y'all work. 'Cause you'll need rides to an' from. An' then you'll be back on weekends. S'hardly a blink from now.” Micah pours the remaining swallow of water in his glass down his throat and deposits the cup on the coffee table. He hugs Shane tighter. “I'm not bein' put in a /cage/, honey. I'm not bein' tortured. I'm not bein' denied human contact. I just...got a couple fewer of my people here than usual. /They're/ the ones goin' through the really hard time. I'm just...waitin'. It'll be okay. We just need time for the videos t'help. That's all.” "I know they are." There's a frustrated growl to Shane's voice and he muffles it against Micah's shirt. "But I can't hold /them/. So I don't want to let go of /you/." Both hands freed up again, Micah pulls Shane into his lap, wrapping his arms tight around him. “You can have /all/ the hugs, okay? Well, all the hugs but the ones y'have t'share with your brothers. Good?” He bonks his head into Shane's shoulder. Shane turns in against Micah after he's pulled closer. He nestles in close and closes his teeth for a moment against Micah's sweatshirt to worry at it with another soft whining growl. His head drops in against Micah's neck once he releases the fabric, gently nuzzling there. "All the hugs," he agrees softly. "I love you. I guess I should wake them for dinner." Though he sounds rather reluctant to do so. “Love you, too honey.” Micah gives Shane another squeeze. “Y'can wait 'til the timer goes off on the oven. But that'll be any minute now. Do gotta get the three of you back t'the school t'night 'fore it's too crazy-late. Still icy an' snowy out there.” He leans in to place a kiss on Shane's forehead. “Love you.” Shane presses his cheek to Micah's chest, squeezing tight. He nods, slow, glancing back to the kitchen and then just tucking in close against his father. His arms curl just a little bit tighter around Micah. "I'll wait, then." His eyes close, his breathing slowing, and he clings tight for whatever scant extra minutes the timer permits him.