ArchivedLogs:Trespassing

Trespassing
Dramatis Personae Micah, Jax	16 July 2014 Takes place directly following getting thrown out of Geekhaus.
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Courtyard - Lower East Side
This courtyard is the lush central hub of the surrounding Harbor Commons, bound in on three sides by rows of duplexes and triplexes, cutting upward at the sky with the sharp thrift of a minimalist's style, neat lines and bountiful windows, boldened with accents in wood towards the upper stories, stone towards the base, the whole of the compound sealed in by a low stoneworked wall that opens entrance gates to the streets beyond at its two far corners, smaller gates at building back doors. The fourth side of the courtyard is open to the East River, the ground forming a slight decline, controlled on one side by micro-retaining walls to form wide steps where picnic tables sit beneath the nominative shelter of a trio of dogwood trees, accessible by ramp. The other side is allowed to slope at its natural angle, a wide open yard space, until its cut off at the river's edge, where a massive pair of oak trees stand, a staircase leading away up one of their thick trunks. The yard itself is carpeted in an organic flow of emerald grass swirled through with wending channels of smooth-paved cement walkways, flowing naturally away from the building's front entrances, where some are arced by trellis, some flanked by hosta plants, fern and lilies, a few laid in gentle switch-backing ramps for wheelchair access, before forking off at matching angles to sites of small garden installments. Bird feeders and baths suspended from the necks of small lamp posts, a rock-lined koi pond, a sleek gazebo tucked to one side in simplistic varnished wood, its southern side overgrown with a mass of thriving grapevine and a caged-in barbecue pit under its sheltering roof. A play area and proper garden are within sight off another branch, until finally all paths spiral in like wheel spokes to a shared common house at the center of all traffic flow. The Commons houses' unique set-up has Micah walking back /around/ the house to reach his parked van. He is moving at a hurried clip for /him/, a fastwalk that's only a step below the trot that is his maximum pace with his current prosthetic set-up. Yesterday that hurried clip would have been enough to outrun Jax-on-crutches, but with his leg back in working order his jog catches up to Micah somewhere around the house's shared backyard. He jogs up to his husband with one hand raised as if to set on Micah's shoulder, slow him, stop him, but in the end he drops his hand without actually touching. Just a quick breath, an uncertain sag of shoulders as he pulls ahead to the back gate that leads out to the street, stopping beside it with his hands lifted -- maybe placating? Maybe surrender? "Micah --" His voice is quiet, but here he trails off without further words. “What?” is all Micah manages to say, words clotted off in a throat that seems to have gone too thick for speaking just now. He doesn't look up, but he does stop moving, fingers curled tight into his palms and fingernails digging in there. Jax drops his hands to his side, shaking his head slowly. His eye skips out towards the street, towards Micah's van, then back in to his husband. "I don't -- d'you /want/ to go be alone right now because I ain't gonna --" He takes a step away from the gate, standing by one stone post but not blocking the egress. "I jus' -- don't want t'leave things all mad an' hurt an' ugly two nights in a row." “Not alone. Just not /here/. Ain't nothin' like bein' told by the guy as built the place that you're not welcome. That y'don't belong. This ain't /home/ just now. Maybe I been kiddin' m'self that I was ever gonna fit here.” Micah's words are a little strangled and choppy, tears in his voice if not anywhere else. “I wasn't mad. An' I'm /not/ mad.” "/I/ was mad, last night. An' the /both/ of us been feelin' hurt an' /alla/ this is ugly. An' he didn't -- say that -- I jus' think he ain't really in a place to --" Jax rubs his knuckles against his cheek, biting down on his lower lip. "Hive ain't been wanting to deal with people at /all/ for a while, an' with the news he jus' got, I think topics like this one -- he didn't say you wasn't welcome /here/ he just. Wants to be --" He takes a half-step closer, lifting his hand tentatively to Micah's arm. "You fit in my life. You always do. Things right now is just such a mess, ain't nobody --" His fingertips trail slowly along Micah's arm, curling slightly like he /wants/ to pull the other man in close. But doesn't, quite. "... can I come. With you?" “I weren't even hurt, honey, that's the thing. I was just...disappointed. For B. That ze didn't just get the chance t'sit an' speak hir piece an' feel heard in a non-threatenin' way. That's all. It's just what I...what I thought we /both/ wanted for our kids. Whenever they have a problem.” Micah's teeth are worrying hard at his lip, already drawing a faint trickle-line of blood. “I know. He's not well. I was choosin' t'think /that/ was why the entire response I got back from 'im was abusive expletives. I just...don't think it's worth tryin' t'continue a conversation of that variety when that's all the response I'm gonna get. S'just frustratin' t'everyone involved an' don't work nothin' out. But that's okay. 'Parently I get to cop out. 'Cause it's all an /academic/ discussion t'me. 'Cause I ain't one of you. An' the kids must not /really/ be mine enough for this t'actually /matter/ t'me.” Micah shakes his head in frustration, backs of his hands rubbing fiercely agains his eyes. “It's one thing when it's the rescuees, y'know? Actin' like I'm gonna hurt 'em. Not bein' willin' t'talk when I'm around. They just...got out of a crazy situation where folks /was/ hurtin' 'em, so. Okay. But it happens /more/. At the safe houses...I can tell they don't trust me. Some come right out an' say it. An' sometimes even people who... Dusk called me a crippled flatscan the other day, y'know? Maybe I fit with /you/, sugar, but I don't think I /do/ fit with your life. Not all of it.” A shaky, mirthless laugh answers that last question. “I really don't even know where I mean t'go.” "Y'sound hurt tonight, though. An' last night I -- when you was sayin' --" There's an unsteady note to Jax's voice here but he cuts himself off, head shaking rather than finish this thought. "The kids /love/ you an' you're their /dad/ jus' as much as --s'jus', the news Hive jus' got, I don't think -- conversations like this gonna be rough an' emotional at the /best/ of times an' --" When Micah's hands rub against his eyes the hesitation in him finally breaks, arms sliding around to pull Micah into a fierce-tight hug. His hands press against the other man's back, lips touching briefly to Micah's cheek. "Oh -- honey." Now he just sounds soft, apologetic where before there'd been a pained note. "I didn't never want -- want t'pull you into somewhere that --" His teeth click against his lip ring, the heat inside him climbing a little higher. "... ain't really sure there /is/ a 'where' where the /both/ of us belong entire." "Now? Yeah," Micah agrees softly, swiping his hands over his eyes again. "It's just been happenin' /more/ lately. An' from people I wouldn't /expect/ it from. I just... 'Parently I'm fine t'use for first aid an' chores an' errands, maybe a fuck from time to time, handy for an undercover agent or somebody who can kill folks with fewer complications, but... Don't let me try t'form an opinion on somethin'. Or even let me feel like I can withhold final judgement on declarin' somethin' a definite evil /just 'til I get the chance t'see it for m'self/ for the sake of tryin' t'figure what's the best guidance I can offer m'kid who is hurtin' an' lost." He exhales quick and frustrated as he has to bring his hands over his stupid leaking eyes again. "I've spent a /lot/ of m'life with a /lot/ of people doin' a pretty good job of tryin' t'make me feel /less than/. I just. Didn't expect..." He gestures at the buildings again, in general. "It just really don't feel like home just now." Jax's jaw tightens again at the mention of final judgment on Themis House, hurting and lost kids; there's a ripple of tension that shivers through his form, too, but he stays quiet on this. Just holds Micah a little bit tighter, pressing his lips to tear-damp cheek once more. "S'there anywhere that will?" he finally asks, quietly. "Because you shouldn't. Feel /less/ than. You're one'a the strongest people I ever --" He bites down on his lip, tipping his eye up towards the sky for a moment. "I want t'help, I jus' don't. Quite know how t'make all this – better." Micah's eyes press closed at the kiss, the movement just sending more tears spilling over. "I don't know. I don't think there is." His shoulders sag as his head leans down on Jax's shoulder. "I dunno, honey. I don't know that we can." "Wh -- no that. That can't --" Something strangled and choked cuts off Jax's words. His hand lifts a little mechanically to stroke fingers against the back of Micah's hair. "There has to be some -- I mean how do we have a /life/ if you don't -- feel like you --" But here his words falter again, hitching into just a sharp catch of breath. His lips press together tightly, his face turning down to bury against Micah's hair. "Oh, no...honey, I didn't mean..." Micah turns to wrap /his/ arms tight around Jax. "I don't know if it'll always...be like it is this minute. It's just right /now/. I really just feel like I need t'be somewhere else. For tonight. Can cross the bridge of after tonight...after tonight. Maybe I just need time t'settle down. I dunno." "Okay." It's all Jax manages aloud, the one word squeezed out soft and constricted. Another tremble shivers through him, and he drops his arms slow and heavy, stepping back from Micah. He blinks quickly -- though unlike Micah at least his cheeks look dry. The look he gives the house -- then Micah's van -- then Micah -- is a little helpless. A little lost. His fist lifts to circle against his heart but after that there is just silence. Micah leans in to kiss Jax's cheek. “I love you, honey. An' y'can come with me if y'want. But I'm gettin' the feelin' I may just drive out a little bit an' park outside work an' try t'get some sleep. It's just bein' /here/ right now's makin' me...I don't know. It just feels wrong right now. Like trespassin' or somethin'.” He stands with one hand cupped around the opposite arm, glancing over to his van. The kiss, at least, finds salt-dampness lingering on Micah's lips. Jax lifts his arm again slowly, resting fingers at the small of Micah's back. Still silent, he just nods, reaching forward to open the gate, finally. Gentle pressure nudges Micah towards it, though Jax's weight is shifting to follow right along behind. The prodding moves Micah forward, returning to his previous path toward the van. When Jax follows, he turns slightly to regard this, extending a tentative, almost /shy/, hand back to him. Jax's steps are slow as he moves after Micah, shutting the gate behind them with a heavy clang of metal. In the nighttime dark it's less noticeable, shift and coil of shadow that twines itself around his legs. More easily felt is the solid warm /heat/ of his grip as his hand locks with Micah's. And holds tight.