[PRP] For The Last Time (Otto + Ian + Stormy)

[kuropeco]

Stormy's arrival was gratefully received, Ian leaning back on the couch and trying to ignore the horrible, horrible coldness that had spread its way throughout his entire body, seizing his heart and his mind in a grip much like the water had when he'd thought he was drowning.

(He was still drowning, just in a different way.)

There was no alcohol with Stormy's meal, which made Ian only mildly annoyed, but he pushed that aside and reached for a slice as well, almost automatic in his movements. It was chewed slowly, almost like he wasn't really aware that he was even doing it, and Ian set down his slice after a moment or two. His face was still terribly pale.

He didn't know what to say anymore, to either of them.

Ol-j-man

Bittiface

 

[medigel]

She didn't move until they did, barely nodding. At least the food was still fresh, Stormy thought as she picked up her own slice and plate, peeling a piece of pepperoni off and nibbling listlessly. The original plan had been to take them to her room, but in hindsight maybe that would have made things worse. At least Otto's was spacious. It wasn't quite free of memories, but at least there wasn't a second empty bed to stare at, or a closet full of clothes that weren't hers, or photos, or notes, or pillows, or a scent of perfume--no forceful reminders of roommates and separation.

Maybe it was too much. Maybe it wasn't enough. Maybe it wasn't anything at all. But they were humoring her, and that was more than she could ask for at this point, even if her gratitude felt hollow.

Stormy remained standing opposite the boys, her eyes on her plate for a few moments more as the silence weighed down. It was the worst kind, worse than the one she had fought off on Christmas Eve. But someone had to.

(Of course someone had to. Of course she would step up.)

"D'you . . ." Her voice was almost as weak as the question. Wrong phrase anyway, nobody would want to. She swallowed and tried again a little stronger. "Will you tell us what happened?" Maybe Ian and Otto had discussed it already while she was out getting food; maybe it would be easier the second time around, then.

kuroopu

Bittiface

 

[Bittiface]

He'd have to eventually. Maybe after this he wouldn't have to again. It was all still fresh in his mind. Tattoo'd to the back of his eyes so he'd never be able to forget. Otto set down the plate onto his lap. He wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. His gaze stilled as it focused on the table ahead of him.

"She went.. to the Haunted House. I went after her.." He started, his voice shaky. He persisted despite it. It played out in front of him as he spoke. Dark images he couldn't make go away.

"We got trapped in a room with Alex.. a zombie from Amity. The room separated Nevada from me and put up an invisible wall.." He tried hard to keep himself steady, to keep his voice from quivering,

"I couldn't break it down. Alex... he started to.." Otto nearly choked. He tried to continue. The details played before his eyes in red.

But he couldn't keep going. The words were choking him.

His eyes fell back to his lap. He began to shake.

"I begged him to stop. He ripped her apart and I couldn't do anything.." The zombie wore her blood with the grin of a psychopath.

kuroopu

Ol-j-man

 

[kuropeco]

He didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to listen to what had happened, because it meant it was real that he couldn't pretend any longer that it was just a dream, just a terrible, terrible nightmare that he couldn't wake up from.

As Otto talked, Ian had leaned forward on the couch, his head in his hands. His fingers gripped his hair, and it seemed for a moment that he might almost tear it out; but the tension, although strong, did not go that far, and Ian's shoulders merely shook with the effort of staying still, of not screaming and sobbing and throwing things.

The pizza lay forgotten on the table.

"You were there," Ian said, and it hurt to say it, because he wanted nothing more than to reply that moment when she'd brushed past him and ran out. Maybe if he'd grabbed her, hugged her, told her again how much she meant to him, she wouldn't have gone.

Maybe she would have stayed.

Belatedly he remembered she still had Patrick's bracelet. It had gone with her, then, to the grave.

"I'm sorry," Ian whispered.

ol-j-man

bittiface

 

[medigel]

Maybe it was Thane's influence, maybe it was her own sheer willpower that had dragged her through the mud until now, or maybe it was both: either way, Stormy was the perfect attentive statue. On the inside she was hollow, yes, but she took it as a good sign. It meant she was numb. It meant she could be rational, as much as one could be in this situation, and not her usual overemotional self.

(She hadn't cried, not once, not since her weapon broke, because she had promised herself not to. And of all her broken promises, at least she could cling to that one and call herself proud of it.)

Who are you? She was who they needed her to be. And maybe for now, that was strong.

It was easier to puppet around as an idea when one felt so empty to begin with.

Mechanically Stormy ate the pizza slice, nibbling on the information at the same time. Slow, steady, easy to swallow bits. Haunted House. A wall. Alex. Dead. Dead. Gone. No goodbye. No thank you. No hint. No thought. No thank you, not a thank you, not a moment of gratitude--just a nightmare of hands at her throat and a heavy weight of survivor's guilt. Slow, steady, easy to swallow bits of needles slicing her throat open. Implications and dark thoughts waiting to be vomited out when she was alone, when she didn't have to be polite, when nobody would have to have their image of her destroyed.

Alex. Alex. The name rang a bell, and she slithered past thoughts of tears, sadness, grief. Think. Her scouting missions into Amityville, the hallway plastered with various posters, their faces staring out at her before she was jumped by a demon. Undead, undead, undead, undead, and Thackery. Names she made herself memorize to better acclimate herself: Aymet, Amrita, Mort, Alex. Undead. Zombie.

Maybe. Maybe.

She swallowed the rest of her pizza and wiped the grease off on a napkin, setting the plate down with slightly trembling fingers. Stormy might refuse to completely acknowledge everything about Otto's tale at the moment, but that didn't mean her body was able to. Her breath was shallow as she reached over and grabbed the snuggies, draping Elsa's over Ian's shoulders and Anna's over Otto's like shock blankets. She was tired of saying, "I'm sorry", and so instead Stormy crawled into the space between them, to try and fill what gaps remained, dropping the bag of letters at the foot of the couch so that it didn't become an obstacle.

(She was trembling and dead inside, but she wasn't crying. Wouldn't they be so proud?)

One arm slid around each of them in some bid to try and hug them close, trying to kiss their heads the same way her mother used to do to her when she was scared, when words were scarce but action was needed. Many different platitudes ran through her head: At least she's in a better place. She's still watching us from heaven. She's never really gone if we keep her in our hearts. It'll be okay.

Instead, Stormy said the worst one of all, gentle but strained: "She's--not suffering anymore. Sleeping Beauty can finally rest."

Bittiface

kuroopu

 

[Bittiface]

Wrapped in a silly Disney blanket, and pulled into a soft hug from Stormy. How was she holding it together? He could feel her shaking. She was no less upset and broken than the lot of them. They were all forced to deal with this reality. None of them wanted to.

Her words were painful to hear. She was gone but she wasn't suffering. No, just everyone who'd known her was. Her painful journey was over, and theirs was evolving.

Otto curled into the snuggie and the hug. He was with people who missed Nevada too. Fresh tears spilled from his eyes but he didn't wail this time. He kept it in, with what strength he had left. His raw hands lay in his lap, still sore from overuse, but cleaned of dirt thanks to the shower.

Breathing hurt, the empty place in his heart and soul hurt.

He didn't know what to do or say.

kuroopu

Ol-j-man

 

[kuropeco]

He was breaking apart.

He felt as though he couldn't stop the pieces from shattering, that each time he tried to hold himself together, another piece of him fell and broke and shattered and smashed, crushed beneath the weight of everything that they had gone through and everything that they were going through.

He couldn't even sympathize with Otto because Ian hadn't been there. He hadn't seen the blood and the look on the creature's face as it tore Nevada apart right in front of his eyes. He hadn't been able to try and stop it, hadn't been there to grab Otto and try and turn his face away so he wouldn't have to bear the burden he was currently bearing right now.

There was movement; Stormy had crawled between them, a blanket on each of their shoulders, and then she was curling up with them, and Ian's breath was coming out in sharp, stuttered gasps that indicated he was losing what little strength he had left to hold back the emotions he wanted so desperately to bury.

He turned his head and pressed a silent kiss to Stormy's temple before burying his face into her shoulder because he couldn't reach Otto, but maybe this was close enough for now, maybe being with these people who had loved Nevada as much as he did, probably more, would give him some semblance of comfort, even if it was small.

ol-j-man

u 2 and ur

bittiface

terrible avis neutral

 

[medigel]

Stay strong.

That was what she told herself and what she tried to infuse into them through the embrace. It was impossible of course, but mantras helped her get through it, gave her something else to focus on than the sounds of shuddering breaths and the feelings of shaking bodies, or barely repressed sobs, whose every second threatened to erode her foundation of stone and reveal just how many cracks were there, just what potential for darkness and resentment existed. Stormy was saved by the fact there were two people to care for, and that others would always be placed as a higher priority in her mind.

So she took deep breaths to keep calm even when her lungs both burned like she had run a mile and ached like inflexible leather, stretched her arms to encompass them as best she could even as they protested, intermittently pressed her lips in their hair, whispered and mumbled words of solace because there was no room for them inside her at the moment. Every unspoken lament and audible hitch was hers to remove from them and dump into that inner cavity. Take sadness, replace with peace. Take sadness, replace with peace.

Stay strong. It'll be okay.

There was a point where one stray tear did escape, and she hissed a curse as it left a burning trail down her cheek and dipped her head to squash it. Her trembling hadn't ceased, no matter how much she tried to stop it, and she hated it. Hated herself.

Stormy threw herself back into the effort to comfort them the only ways she could until that one little stain had dried, and maybe longer still. Time didn't matter; the world wasn't supposed to be turning anyway. But at length she sniffled, her hands gripping them to anchor herself.

"She left letters for you two," Stormy mumbled in a thick voice, "if you want them now."

kuroopu

and a happy Easter to you too~ <3

Bittiface

and youuuu~ <3

 

[Bittiface]

Letters... Nevada had taken time to write them something with the knowledge that she would one day no longer be around. That killed him. To see your end coming and have to prepare such a morbid thing.

Otto shook his head, his grimace containing the pain he wished to keep down. "I'll take it.... read it later." When I am alone was left unsaid. But he'd take her letter, and hold it to his heart until he got that moment when it was just himself. He'd let his iron grip wrinkle the envelope until he was ready to break apart again, because he knew reading her last words to him would make him fall apart in an ugly mess he didn't wish anyone to witness.

kuroopu

Ol-j-man

 

[kuropeco]

It was a while before Ian moved again, and it was only because he felt the shifting of the other two beside him. He lifted his head, his cheeks flushed, but his face was dry, his eyes red-rimmed but having shed no tears, not yet. He lowered his arms away from Stormy and pulled the ridiculous blanket thing around him a bit more closely, exhaling a long breath.

A letter?

She had known she was dying. She had known she was leaving them, and she had written them things.

Ian took a sharp breath.

"I'll take it," he said quietly. "For later," he added, like Otto had.

Bittiface

Ol-j-man

 

[medigel]

"Of course."

She peeled away reluctantly, wiping at a darkened cheek before ducking down to get her bag. It seemed so strangely puzzling, how to remember to open the bag (the catch was funny, pull back, lift, snap off) and find the correct letters without mixing them up. The very idea of doing so now, after everything, was almost strong enough black comedy to make her laugh.

But Stormy was careful. She slipped each envelope out and studied the recipient's name before handing them off, her hands making unconscious fists as they fell by her sides. Nails into palms again, finding their niches and digging in.

Her gaze flickered between Ian and Otto, rimmed with the strain of witholding herself, sorrowful, yet dutiful. "D'you need anything else?" As if food, comforting words, final gifts, she herself, were not enough. Then again, what really was?

kuroopu

Bittiface

 

[Bittiface]

Otto stared at the letter for a long while before he looked back to Stormy. A wall was there. She had to be tearing herself apart inside, yet here she was. Taking care of them, of the assets that needed to be seen to.

Otto stooped down to her level and gripped the small girl in a hug.

Stormy and Nevada had been like sisters. She'd spoken of her so often when they were together. She must be hurting. She must be sad. She must be trying to be strong because there were two boys in the room who couldn't handle their pain on their own. Stormy had been through Hell trying to save Nevada. She'd sacrificed so much, and all for nothing.

But she'd tried so hard. So he held her close. Maybe he could be someone's rock for once, even if he himself just wanted to fall apart.

"Thank you, Stormy. You did so good."

Ol-j-man

kuroopu

 

[kuropeco]

He took the letter without a word and tucked it away for later; put it inside of his pocket to look at when he would be able to bear it, when he would be able to really and truly handle the last words Nevada Grace Burns had wanted to tell him.

Ian reached for the both of their hands, curling his fingers around them.

"Thanks," he said quietly. "But I think I'll - I'll go rest now."

Ol-j-man

Bittiface

 

[medigel]

For a moment Ian would feel that same iron grip she could impose under duress, nails pressing in to his palm like little fangs, biting, biting, biting like they were trying to mimic weapons and break his shield; her skin seemed a shade paler from the effort. And then the pressure left, replaced by a thumb trying to smooth the crevices over gently.

"Whatever you need."

She hoped he knew they had a support group if he needed it, even though she couldn't bring herself to say the words. In fact, there were a lot of different things she wished she had the energy to say, but the moment Ian's hand slipped from hers to let him go, Stormy felt herself start to head closer to flatlining, a device unhooked and left to drain its batteries as quickly as humanely possible.

As Otto descended, her knee jerk reaction was to curl up and hide, and she did seem to shrink just before she was pulled into a hug, her arms tight around her legs, her head buried near her knees. Exerting pressure inward was the only way to keep it in. She wondered if it was possible to squeeze herself tight enough that if whatever dirt and grime still inside her pretended to be coal, she might make herself a diamond that nothing could ever damage again. No more pain. No more emotional compromising. No temptation to think of herself, sinful as it was. The perfect aide.

The more Otto held her, the more she just wanted to let go, but she simply couldn't. She simply leaned into him, a ball of clothes hiding a scarecrow.

"I'll be okay," Stormy half-croaked, though no tears were forming. Just fires in her heavy head and in her itching eyes and in her overworked fingers and in her frail lungs. "I-I'll be okay, it's okay. It'll be okay. It's okay. Everth-thing's okay. D'you want a hug, then?"

kuroopu

Bittiface

 

[Bittiface]

It was probably for the best if they all went their separate ways. He himself needed to be alone so he could properly vent. By the looks of it, they did too. None of them wanted to break apart completely here.

"It's fine.." He murmured to Stormy, letting her go and backing off. He stood up, shaky but standing. "Don't worry about the food. I'll put it away." There was so much of it. It was a tragedy that such a good looking party meal be wasted on these sad sacks. No one was hungry. No one could eat.

Otto decided to act first, and retreated to his bedroom. He'd allow himself to come out again once he was certain everyone was gone. He locked himself inside, alone in his bedroom that still smelled like Nevada.

He slid down to the floor. He waited to be alone again.

kuroopu

Ol-j-man