ArchivedLogs:Meddling

Meddling
With Care Instructions
Dramatis Personae Sebastian, Shane, Micah	5 April 2013 Sebastian and Shane come to gather their Stuff and find Micah recuperating (and taking advantage of critter-time) while Jax is off at work.
Location <NYC> 303 {Holland} - 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 bright coloured sealife has made its way into being painted on the 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. 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. It's late. Well past midnight. On a Friday night this means Jax has been at work for a while, and won't be back a good while more. And yet here is the door. Rattling. Quiet. With keys turning in the locks. Door pushed open, quiet, too. One and then two pairs of jet-black eyes PEEKIN'. Inside. Micah is currently a splash of powder blue T-shirt and faded jeans sprawled out on the floor. He has a bit of purple yarn that he is snaking temptingly along the floor for kittenpounce! purposes. Squiggle-wiggle, pouncypaws! This process has been repeating for an indeterminate amount of time. The door opening earns a twist of Micah’s torso to observe. Maybe Jax came home early? His attention being turned away provides the ball of fluff and claws the perfect opportunity to pounce /hand/. “Eepclaws!” Micah collapses back onto his stomach, pulling his hand to safety. The two pairs of eyes /withdraw/. The door closes. There is quiet. And then it opens again, after a pause, to admit both the twins. One neat-dressed in black slacks, dark button-down, lighter blue vest; the other much more colourful in a powder blue wrap skirt and pale yellow sleeveless top embroidered with darker yellow butterflies. Sebastian is carrying a duffel bag that currently looks empty. Shane is wearing a scowl. "She'll freaking /eat you/ if you're not careful." He still wears his scowl as he stoops to ruffle Obie's head, claws absently scritching behind the beagle's ears. "Yeah, she's kinda used to us. Our hands take a lot of abuse." Sebastian slips his shoes off by the door, padding over in socked feet to lean against the back of the couch and watch Micah. "Are you /actually/ living here now?" Shane wants to know. He hasn't moved from the doorway. "Oh!" Micah looks surprised, albeit pleasantly, to see the twins. He scrambles to his feet. "Guys! You're here! Jax made it sound like... Are you /here/ here?" He dips down to retrieve the yarn and stuffs it into his pocket--not a good toy for unsupervised kitty play. "I was okay until I stopped watchin' her. Rookie mistake." He chuckles. The hand looks no worse for wear, a couple little superficial claw marks with no blood drawn. "I'm...no. Not. Jax insisted I hang out here until the Hive migraine goes away." His hands toy with the hem of his T-shirt, his expression sheepish. The Cheshire-Totoro face on it wriggles with the movement. "Yeah? How're you doing with that?" Sebastian looks over Micah, a little worried. "He looks /conscious/ at least." That seems the extent of Shane's concern, at least in his nonchalant tone. Ignore the look he /also/ darts over the older man. Surreptitiously, as he de-shoes himself. "We're not /here/-here," Sebastian says hurriedly, "we just --" "-- had to pick some shit up." Shane shrugs a shoulder. "We'll be out of your hair --" "-- in like /no/ time at all." Sebastian hefts the duffel bag in indication. "Sorry. Carry on -- Sprite-ing." He waves towards the cat. “It’s gettin’ better. Yesterday was…I kinda passed out last night and didn’t know any better until some time this mornin’. And then I wished I still /didn’t/.” Micah scrunches his eyes closed. “Just kinda bad headache now.” He looks at the bag. “You don’t hafta, y’know, hurry or anythin’. I mean, this is /your/ place. I’m just…convalescing here, I guess.” His brow furrows. “Jax is missin’ y’all somethin’ /fierce/, y’know?” "It's not our place." This comes from both of the twins together. Shane snatches the bag from Sebastian, heading off into their (former?) bedroom. "There's -- there's headache things in the cabinet in --" Sebastian flicks his fingers towards the bathroom connected to the living room. "Jax's bathroom kinda just has herbs and things." "All that woo-woo crap. He hates pills. Gorram hippie." Shane's grumbling comes from the bedroom, along with rummaging sounds. “It…” Micah scrubs a hand through his hair nervously. “Look, it’s not remotely my place to be meddlin’ with y’all or anythin’. But you should know. Jax is convinced he’s done somethin’ horribly wrong that y’all asked not to come back here.” He waves off the offer of analgesics. They haven’t proven helpful for psychic unplugging pain thus far. "What is your place?" Sebastian isn't following Shane towards the bedroom, although Obie is, beagle practically tripping over himself in his dash after the other twin. "Here," Shane answers, from the bedroom. "You gonna keep all these bones I don't know where the fuck to put them." "-- You going to keep those /testicles/?" Sebastian wanders over to peek into the doorway although he doesn't enter the bedroom. "Dude I came back here /just/ for the testicles." Shane is wandering back, when Sebastian comes closer, leaning against the doorway and looking out at Micah. "Jax is a dumbass. You should know that by now." Micah sighs, fingers fluffing at his hair again already. “I really…I’m not sure. Apparently sort of awkwardly interferin’ in a tryin’ not to interfere way?” He just-barely quirks a brow at the discussion of the contents of the twins’ room. “He’s…that’s not really fair. He’s just the type that tends to blame himself for everythin’, absent /glarin’/ evidence to the contrary. Like, /obvious/ glarin’. Like someone talkin’ to him directly glarin’.” "Right, so, sticking to his bogus ideas despite evidence, what're you supposed to call that? Dumbass." Shane watches Micah fluff his hair with a frown. "-- who was talking to him? About what?" Sebastian shifts a little uncomfortably, weight moving from one foot to the other. "I mean. Sorry. Right. We're -- we're not here to --" "We're just packing our shit and going." Shane says this firmly, clapping a hand on Sebastian's shoulder. But the boys exchange a look, and then look back at Micah. "Look," Sebastian says, "I know you said you weren't doing the label thing or whatever but --" "-- but you're totally fucking dating Jax that's obvious as shit," Shane says, "so you --" "-- should look after him, okay?" Bastian sounds quite earnest about this. "I mean he's tough and he can look after himself and --" "-- probably will try and look after /you/ more often than not but you still should. He's not really /good/ at --" "-- being nice to himself." Sebastian wrinkles his nose, shifting now to lean up against Shane's side. "I mean, if you're staying. You're staying right?" “No one was talkin’ to him much, I think, is the problem.” Micah leans himself against the arm of the couch. In for a penny, in for a pound at this point… “I mean to say, y’prob’ly should. Talk to him. Honestly. About this. Otherwise, he’s just gonna assume everythin’ is his fault.” The recommendation to look after Jax coaxes out a small smile. “I been tryin’. When he lets me. Well, even sometimes when he doesn’t really. He’s stubborn.” Oh look! The blushing is starting now. “Yeah, I’m pretty much around as long as he’ll have me.” There's a beat of quiet. Then a quiet exchange in Vietnamese. And then, "Maybe it is his fault," Shane says. He's not looking at Micah, anymore, but down towards Obie leaning up against his ankle. Sebastian crosses his arms stiffly over his chest. "I don't want to talk to him," he says, uncomfortably. "I just want --" "-- look, just because we don't want to live here doesn't mean we don't want -- him to be okay." Shane doesn't sound particularly comfortable, either, and still doesn't look up. "You should /know/ things. If you're going to be here because he'll need someone to -- I mean maybe you already know all the things." Sebastian's hairless brow creases into a frown. Micah watches the boys speaking in that blank way that people do when they have /no idea/ what is coming out of another person’s mouth. Languages are /not/ Micah’s thing. He sighs when Sebastian says he doesn’t want to talk. So much for his declaration that he shouldn’t meddle. “Okay, I admit it. I’m Captain Meddlesome. So I’m just gonna apologise in advance. He /loves/ you guys. And y’all obviously care about him. This whole thing is tearin’ him up. And…have y’all thought at /all/ about how any of this is affectin’ Spencer? Because the Child Welfare people don’t listen to little kids’ opinions /near/ as much as teenagers’. You guys sayin’ you don’t want t’be here weighs a lot heavier than Spencer sayin’ he /does/ want to be. Did you know he’s been sneakin’ off here when his fosters aren’t lookin’? Just to play or sleep, even if nobody’s here?” Micah pulls the brakes on his own diatribe in the making. “I…I don’t know all the things. I don’t think it’s possible to know all the things. I just want as few people gettin’ hurt as possible, that’s all.” The twins exchange a look again. Sebastian's arms tighten. Shane's head bows further. "Spencer's little. And cute. And white," says Sebastian, "he'll find a good family." "Jax is the one who's got fucking /everything/ stacked against him." Shane's weight is adjusting, now, shifting to lean into Bastian even as Bastian leans into him. "/He/ needs a fucking break." "He needs a lot of things." Bastian's fingers are curling in against his bicep, nails digging slightly into the thick skin. "Yeah. Like he says he doesn't need sleep and he /kind/ of doesn't? But he needs /more/ if it hasn't been sunny and --" "-- and /especially/ if he's not sleeping he'll burn sugar like a /hummingbird/ and if he's painting he can totally /forget/ he hasn't eaten and he'll pass /out/." "And he gets kind of manic if it's /too/ sunny, he's got to get /rid/ of all the energy he's been storing or he might, um, explode, so it's good to remind him he needs to -- /vent/ it or else --" "And he's allergic to pineapple but sometimes he tries to sneak it /anyway/ because it's delicious but he'll regret it so just beat him --" "-- which you could probably do /anyway/ because he likes that? I think he kind of gets sad without someone to hurt him." "In the good way!" It is probably a testament to Sebastian's genuine concern on all these matters that he manages to add this to the list of JaxCare without (much) blushing. "-- but he likes chocolate after." "He likes if you rub his belly, too. Not like, uh, in a sex way or anything. More like a /cat/, he /purrs/." Shane also evidently thinks this is equally as important as the rest, because he is frowning downwards, concerned. "And he frets about /everything/ but that's not going to stop, you can tell when he's /really/ upset and not just /Southern/ cuz the lights shake and --" "-- and sometimes if you don't remind him that you care about /him/ he'll just be illusiony forever and you'll never see how he's really doing. But it's habit. He stops if you -- if you care and --" "... maybe," Sebastian says, biting down at his lip, "we should make him a readme." He looks up at Micah, his black eyes wide. "Sorry, I don't mean to -- we don't mean to --" "It's just /important/," Shane says firmly. Micah nods repeatedly throughout this list of instructions, listening quite earnestly in his silence. One or two of the items prompt a deepening of his previous just-hinted-at blush. "No, it's okay. I understand that y'all want him taken care of, too. It's just...he's happiest takin' care of other people, y'know? I...I'm not gonna keep tryin' to convince you of that, though. Because I'm sure what I have to say isn't worth..." He sighs again, as if deflating. "I'll promise to take care of him and watch over him best as I can, whether y'all are here or not. But I'd really appreciate it if y'could promise to at least /talk/ to him in return? If you're gonna leave again, that is. Because that'll do him more good than I could hope to." "Talking to him would be --" Bastian frowns. Both the twins quiet. Bastian offers Micah a small, wan smile, the heads into the bedroom as well. It doesn't take long for the duffel bag to be filled. "We have to go," Shane says, when he emerges again with Things. "You --" His mouth presses together. "-- Night," is all Sebastian offers. “Just…think about it,” Micah requests as a last-ditch effort. “And take care of yourselves. And each other. You can… If y’need to contact me for anything. Please don’t hesitate.” He produces a pair of business cards and holds these out for the twins. “Take care,” apparently bears repeating. The twins step forward, together. Sebastian reaches to take both business cards, pocketing them without looking. Shane bites down on his lip and then, sudden and tight, curls his arms around Micah and /squeezes/. It's not a long hug. When he lets go he pretends it did not just happen. He links an arm through his brother's, and then head for the door. Micah returns the hug with a squeeze of his own, tight around the teenager’s slight frame. He lets Shane go when he makes the first indication of moving away, and silently watches the pair leave. Once sounds of the twins’ egress has faded, Micah finally looks away from the door to note that Obie had been watching in much the same way, only with the addition of Sad Beagle eyes. “I know, I know,” he reassures the dog, as if Obie had spoken. He flops himself down on the floor next to the beagle, back supported against the couch. After a few ear scritches to remind the dog that he is Safe People, Micah initiates puppy-snuggles. “At least /somebody’s/ gonna stay here and get hugs.”