ArchivedLogs:Big Deal

Big Deal
Dramatis Personae Hive, Melinda	2015-01-24 '
Location <NYC> {Geekhaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
There's an open airy feel to the floorplan of this unit. The door opens up into a wide expanse of common space that is not so much divided up into rooms as it is simply multipurposed. Ash-grey resin flooring underfoot runs up against the paler grey of the exposed stone in the walls; between the stone support there are wide floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the river on one side of the home and the Commons' central yard on the other. Half of the space has a ceiling at one-floor height, though half of the space is left open with a balcony up on the second floor overlooking the living space below. A slatted stairway heads up to the second floor balcony; on the other side of the room, a fireman's pole running straight down to the basement provides a quicker way /down/. The wide open space here is combination living and dining room; near the windows there are a pair of couches and large armchair around a wide coffeetable; further off a steel-and-glass dining table is surrounded by eight tall black chairs. A full bathroom behind the stairway is done up in dark granite; the glass-doored bathtub/shower is rather expansively large. The kitchen is tucked off in back, beneath the half-height ceiling; in here the appliances and cabinets and shelving recessed into the wall are in brushed steel, wide grey sweeps of tempered glass countertops running around the edge of the room and a large central island holding stoves and oven and deep double sink. Adjacent to the kitchen, beneath the ceiling as well, is a sitting area structured largely around the enormous television against one wall, a wealth of video games for a number of consoles held on the shelves around the television. Crates and beanbags and one low futon folded against the floor are arranged in good viewing distance; opposite the television, a sturdy large pen built out of wood shrines a couch amid a sea of brightly colorful playpen balls. A door in one wall opens up to the apartment next door; a door opposite leads down to the basement. Geekhaus is quiet. Saturday-night quiet, meaning its more gregarious members are out (hopefully) /enjoying/ their Saturday nights. Hive is not out clubbing or partying, unsurprisingly. He's tucked into the ballpit with his laptop, largely ignoring /Bojack Horseman/ playing on the television and focusing instead on his laptop screen. He's dressed like it's bedtime already though it's really not that late, soft black pants and his big Grumpy bear sweatshirt, wrapped up in a Van Gogh Tardis throw blanket. A half hour ago, Mel left a text on Hive's phone asking him if they could maybe talk. A few minutes after that, she asked if he was there. A little while after that, there is a knock at the door. She is wearing a pair of sweat pants and a larger sweatshirt over the top, her hair braided over one shoulder, her thoughts a mess of concerns and disquiet. She has left Tola at home with Tove so she might just get his attention for once. She just maybe wants a little attention for once, if he is up for it. She knocks a second time and waits, rubbing at one elbow with her free hand. << You /have/ a key. >> It slams into Mel's head with all the mental force of a sledgehammer, thudding painfully and carrying Hive's grumbly-gruff voice as an undertone. He curls tighter into the corner of the couch, pulling his blanket more snugly around himself and balancing his laptop on his knees. << Yeah, well, I was trying to be polite, >> Melinda reaches into a pocket in her sweatpants, one she had to sew on herself. She retrieves her keys and opens the door, slipping out of her shoes as she enters. She pauses to look around the room before moving closer, looking him over before turning her attention to the TV. She moistens her lips and exhales softly before moving to lean against the ballpen briefly, looking for room to sit as well. "Hey." She settles against the corner, glancing back up at the TV. "Apologies for barging in on you. I just... we haven't spoken in such a long time and I miss you and I have no idea what is going on with you, and I apologize for... just... being like this. If you want me to go, I will go." << Yeah, we all care a lot about manners around here. >> Hive taps at his keyboard, pausing the show on the television screen. His eyes don't move from his computer, though. "Guess it's been a while." His voice is just as gruff aloud as in mental space. Though without the sledgehammering. His eyes narrow, faintly. "... being like what?" "Well, you know, I was trying. Maybe it's new, maybe it's the fact that you haven't wanted me in here in about a month." Mel scrubs a hand across her face. "I... don't mean to be a pain. And I'm being a pain because I'm feeling irrationally upset that you're still alive and I don't know how to deal with it and I've been trying to keep it away from you because I've felt like you didn't need that shit on top of whatever else you're going through." She moves a little further into the corner of the ball pit and pulls her legs in tight. "But I no longer know what you're going through, so I needed to come over and ask." "Haven't wanted gorram anyone here." Hive does look up from his laptop, now, eyes a little wider, brows raised. He /snorts/, startled, a rough sharp breath of laughter. "Upset I'm -- wow. Thanks." His lips have pressed thinly together, mouth hooking upward in a lopsided slice of smile. One arm rests on the wooden edge of the ballpit, fingers curling into his short scruff of hair. "I don't know what you're asking. I don't know what I'm supposed to be saying." "I... that's not what I meant. I mean, it's kind of what I meant, but, damn. It... fuck." Mel curls up further, staring at her feet. "Hive, I ... what happened? You were done. You wanted that. It hurt a lot, but I wanted you to have it... the end, the ability to rest. Then you ask me to leave and you won't see Tola and I figure you just had to be stubborn and really wanted to die alone, but instead, here you are." Mel gnaws on her lip. "I'm thrilled you're alive. I wanted to hug you the moment I saw you, but I'm afraid you don't want anything to do with me." "Here I am." Hive closes his laptop, finally, leaning out of the ballpit to set it aside on a crate. "Changed my mind." His voice is kind of flat. Toneless. "I imagine a lot of people would when they're looking right the hell at death." He's sinking further down into the pit with a rustle of shifting plastic. His fingers close around a iridescent red-and-gold swirled ball, spinning it around in his hands. "It's been kind of grueling. Healing. Hasn't been a /quick/ process." "I... guessed as much." Melinda closes her eyes and exhales, her mind imagining how it might have been if he'd told her. How she'd be there more for him, help him out, keep him company, be there to talk about it - whatever, but she pulls away from the fantasy, gaze distant as her eyes open. "I am not happy to hear how hard it was. I hope the worst is over now." Inside, she is push down the fear and the depression and just... trying to keep it together while they speak. The ball stops spinning in Hive's fingers. His fingertips press small dimples into it; they open back out with very faint pops when the pressure eases and he starts spinning it again. His eyes fix ahead on the frozen image on the television screen, jaw working slowly before he answers quietly, "Think the tumor is nearly gone, yeah." He tosses the ball back in with the others, plucking up a new one at random. Black and speckled in a rainbow of oilslick shimmer. "S'fine. Haven't. Been very talkative. Sleeping a lot. Working a lot." There's an easing of the knot between Mel's shoulders as she settles into listening, actively of course, but listening all the same. "I can only imagine how much energy it'd take to sleep off the healing of a tumor." There's quiet behind her words, few thoughts, having no way to approach such a mental picture at this time. She's just glad to be there. "It's okay if you don't want to talk. I don't know if everything's still not coming out right. I'd love to see what you've been working on lately, when you feel like show it off." "I don't know," Hive echoes, slow and uncertain. "If everything's still not -- coming out --" He shakes his head abruptly, fingers running along the side of his head, tracing around behind his ear. His eyes still stay locked steady ahead of him. "I'm sorry I didn't. Tell you. Been an -- odd. Time." "It seems to be okay. Don't really know what you're trying to say versus what is the end result, but the end results are good." Melinda swallows hard against the moisture in her mouth, trying to clear it once more, fidgeting slightly and sneaking a glance in Hive's direction. "I was surprised, I'll admit that. But I'm not upset you didn't tell me. I apologize if I made a big deal about it." Hive's shrug is just a small jerky-stiff twitch of shoulder. He lets the oilslick-black ball roll down off his fingers, picks up a chrome pink one. "Guess it was a big deal." His jaw tightens, teeth briefly creaking together. His eyes close, slowly. Open again, slowly, fixing back on the television. "How's. Your year. Been?" "Started out rough." Melinda tries to play it down again, but fails. "Who am I kidding? The year has sucked. It's been so jarring, I feel like I'm spending most of my energy on acting as if it hasn't been a mess. You deciding to live and not telling anyone about it... well, it's been more of a happy surprise. Better than most other things." Hive's brows lift at this. Finally he slowly turns his head, eyes a little vacant as they turn towards Mel. "... Mess?" "You were gone and I kept waiting for you to... to hear that you... and then Jax and Micah adopted this baby that drove the twins out and basically kept Spencer out of sight for his own sake, and the baby was pretty much killing Jax and Micah, but also making them crazy at the same time, so there was no talking sense with them -- or at least I thought it was like that, but even after they abdicated to better equipped parental guardians, I was still wrong about everything. And it's just a mess when I feel strongly about something, but am ... wrong." Melinda lets the words out quickly, trailing off as she finishes, tacking on the thought, "I know I'm exaggerating when I say I'm wrong about everything. I'm just upset." Hive blinks. Once, twice. Slowly his head turns /back/ towards the (still-paused) television, fingertips rubbing at his temples. "... uh." His eyes screw up, tight, and then relax to resume his blank forward gaze. "If it helps," he says, dryly, "/everyone was wrong about everything." He fidgets with the blanket, tugging it up more snugly around him. "... why are /you/ upset?" "People were dying... and I could only stew in useless feelings." Melinda has stopped looking at Hive at this point, letting her gaze remain unfixed and near her feet for the time being. "Now people are okay, but I'm still... I don't know, maybe I should just go on vacation for a while." "Most feelings are useless." Hive shrugs, quick and jerky once more. "Vacation? Would that help? Do you want --" He sounds briefly confused, then shakes his head. His tone returns to a quiet-flat. "Where?" "Not sure. Half feel like the last time I was relaxed was in Thailand. But that's your family, not mine." Melinda shrugs a little. "I don't know what will help, but distance from issues often provides perspective and that's useful at least. Maybe I'll just take a weekend and rent a car, drive to my parents' house, see how Ohio is this time of year. It's been a while." "S'good to see family, I think." Hive's teeth creak again, grinding slowly. "And good to have perspective." "I'd rather spend time with you." Melinda replies, quiet. For a while Hive is silent in answer to this. But, eventually, also quiet: "I am not a vacation." "Not technically." Melinda frowns and wraps her arms around her knees, drawing them in tighter. "But you could go on one with me." There's more silence, from Hive. His fingers curl into his hair again, chest rising and falling slowly on several deliberate deep breaths. "Don't think so, no." He hesitates. Opens his mouth. Closes it again, eyes still fixed ahead and his teeth grinding once more. "Oh." Melinda turns to look at Hive, watching him grind his teeth. "Ever?" Hive's brows pull together, his mouth opening once more. And closing once more just as quickly. The next grind of teeth is harder, slower. "/Ever/? I don't know from fucking. Ever. This time last month I didn't think I had an /ever/. I don't have next week planned out. I sure don't have /ever/ planned out. Whole damn last year of my life's been a vacation, though. /Now/ I've got fucking work to do." "Ah." Melinda's lips purse as she starts to pull herself out of the ball pit. "I really hadn't set a date yet. I wasn't going to go this weekend because I haven't suggested it to anyone nor have I remotely prepared." She looks him over once before she dusts off some imagined dust from her clothes. "I feel like I am interrupting something... so I should probably go. I mostly just... wanted to say that I love you and I miss you. I can understand that you have a lot of time to make up for, but ... don't work too hard, okay?" Hive pushes out a sudden laugh at this, rough and breathy and startled-sounding. "Yeah. I. Have a lot of time to make up. For." The heel of his hand rubs against his eyes, then, slower, over the side of his head. "I'm Asian. Working too hard is kind of our jam." Melinda has a small smile for his laugh and reference to racial stereotypes, but she's still somber on the inside. "Okay. Good night." She then lets herself out.