ArchivedLogs:Still Silent

Still Silent
Dramatis Personae Shane, Micah	5 December 2013 A battle of wills? (Takes place directly after the altercation over Chelsea.)
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. Shane's door has remained closed since he disappeared into his room. Long past time to go back to school, no amount of cajoling or arguing or ordering has been able to convince him to /return/ to school with the others. There wasn't even arguing, really, just a locked door and stubborn silence. The night has continued on, as nights tend to do. And still here: door. Locked. Silent. It has been some time since Micah calmly informed the door of its options. Remaining shut and keeping Shane away from Chelsea. Opening to allow Shane to have a rational conversation with one or both parents. Or opening to grant Shane passage straight back to his dorm room at school. The door seems to have chosen the 'remaining shut' option. So Micah has remained within line of sight of the door, after preparing and sharing a meal and cleaning up afterward. After Spencer has been put to bed. After Jax has left for his night shift. By now he has dragged a beanbag into the hall and is sitting in it, directly across from the door, working on something on his laptop that mostly involves a lot of staring at the screen. It's been some time, and now finally the door opens. Just a crack, at first, but then further. Shane's stomach is kind of rumbly, his skin just on the uncomfortable side of too dry, and he glances first to the bathroom and then to the kitchen and then just sits. Elbows rested on knees, chin propped in his elbows. His gaze focuses steadily on Micah. With his unnaturally large black eyes, thin clear membrane to protect them, his eyes are /built/ for staring. Or glaring. Which he does now, with /determination/. Micah looks up from his laptop at the first sign of movement from the door, watching intently. He stares back at Shane, though his stare is more...regarding, certainly not glaring. His hazel eyes are equally determined, though beneath that is clear disappointment and lingering hurt. When Shane does not move or speak, Micah plucks a water bottle from its spot beside him and sets it within reach of the stubborn teen. But he does not move himself from his post or let up on his watch. Shane continues to not move for some while after this. He does eventually reach for the water bottle; he doesn't /drink/ any. He peels off his shirt so that he can trickle the water over both sets of his gills, cupping it in his hand afterwards to rub it down over his skin to dampen it. Then, bottle mostly empty but the /floor/ around him a bit wetter than before, he returns to his glaring, still and silent. As Shane sits and glares, Micah continues to watch silently. His eyes track the boy's movements with the water. Then they watch him sit and glare. After several long, dragging moments, Micah reaches to his side again and picks up a wrapped stick of jerky from the emergency stash always kept for the twins, just in case. This he places within reach of Shane, as well, before returning to watching. Silent. Still. Shane doesn't touch the jerky. He doesn't even look at it, really; his eyes don't leave Micah's face. His gills flap slowly open, but then close again. His fingers curl inward to grip his knees, his jaw tight. Micah does not press the issue of Shane eating or drinking. He simply supplies the option, providing for his son's basic needs regardless of his behaviour. The redhead seems content to sit in the hall, just studying Shane's face as the boy glares. Shane's glaring does not let up. Not for a while, anyway; for a very long time he seems perfectly willing to just sit there in stony silence. But eventually the silence grows less stony. His gills flutter more, his eyes slowly closing completely. They open again, to stare at Micah once more, though his jaw has unclenched. He shifts from sitting to kneeling, walking forward on his knees and then settling back down. This time, curled up on his side, his head tentatively resting at the side of the beanbag. Not /quite/ touching Micah. But close. Micah makes not further movements, staring back at Shane through the boy's ongoing stony silence. Again he watches as the boy moves closer and settles nearby. He doesn't make physical contact with him, leaving that to be Shane's decision, like waiting for an easily spooked animal to creep closer for a sniff before truly interacting with it. Here, too, Shane is just still for a while. But eventually he moves again, creeping further up onto the beanbag to tuck himself in a small ball at Micah's side. His head shifts to rest up on Micah's lap, kind of /nudging/ at the laptop with his forehead to /burrow/ in some room for nestling. His eyes close again, one arm tucked in close against his chest and his other slowly curling outward to squeeze around Micah's knees like he is clinging to them for support. Yet again, Micah's eyes pursue Shane through his every movement, watching him come closer. Micah finally moves, as well, closing his laptop and tucking it aside. When Shane's head rests in his lap, he brings a hand up to pet at his prickly-hard hair. The other moves to rub against the boy's back in small, slow circles. Shane just settles in, here, tense but clinging tight. His eyes close, his gills still fluttering rapidly. He presses his cheek down against Micah's lap and hugs his father tight, with no apparent intention of moving. Just still. And silent. Micah reaches to press down the fluttering gills, waiting for them to settle slightly and then stroking down along them again. He wraps an arm around Shane's shoulder and squeezes gently. For as long as the boy needs to stay there, he holds him. Silent. And still.