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 Posted: Sat Jan 19, 2008 9:44 pm
He wasn't offended, but he was getting annoyed. His hand twisted in the other's grasp, grabbing his wrist as if aware the other wanted to flee. He wouldn't allow it. "Fiach, listen. I'm trying to help, but what's the point of all this progress if you're going to let it go?" Brad's voice was only a little gentler, his tone made soft by a bit of sadness that laced its way in there. "I don't know what your past is and at this rate it looks like I'm not going to. But you can't let it rule you, or it will kill you. Time only moves in one direction, sad, but it's the truth."
Brad partially felt like he was fighting with himself on this. While he had never tried to take his life, he had certainly had his share of looking backwards, missing what was in front of him for many years. In fact, is was the young man in his grasp that had somewhat helped him realize that. "You've got a job, one you're needed at and that you're good at. You've got your health, a roof over your head and someone in front of you who isn't going to give up, for better or for worse." His eyes blazed, more blue than indigo, realizing he was still holding Fiach somewhat tightly. The hand loosened, before completely releasing him.
"Can't we start there?" he asked quietly. "Can you tell me what plagues you that's worth giving up on life?" The idea of suicide was so out there and far away from Brad's ability to think, it truly rattled him that the young man here had attempted it...more than once. He tried to think back, back to when he was twenty one and trying to make ends meet. It had been hard, sure, but worth giving up on? Never.
"You are worth it Fiach. Even if you don't tell me anything about your past, I know you're a good guy with his heart in the right place. That's worth fighting for."
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Posted: Sat Jan 19, 2008 10:17 pm
A small whimper issued itself from Fiach's mouth as he tried to fight the panic that threatened to engulf him when Brad grabbed his wrist. Though Brad's words were gentle, Fiach had a very hard time wrapping his warped mind around the fact that this stranger, this man he'd only met a handful of times, was actually there for him. It was very difficult to believe nice words when your entire life had been one large fight to stay alive, and even now, looking into Brad's eyes and knowing the man meant him no ill will...didn't help Fiach stop fighting the urge he had to open up and talk to someone. It was what he'd done his entire life - trying to stop suddenly while running was difficult, and took time, a gradual slow down.
At first shocked that this man was holding him tightly, Fiach did nothing to escape, merely staring helplessly as he listened to the older man talk. He was so much like Brian, that it scared Fiach even further. Although Brad scared him more than the old man ever had, they both spoke with that same wisdom of moving onwards, made him have the desire to confront his past so that he could stand tall and stop feeling so small when next to anyone. He was angry that he felt so weak and helpless compared to this other man, and that he felt as though he were being stared down upon, regardless of the fact they were of the same height. It made him feel childish and ignorant for fighting against talking to Brad, and made him only regret his decision to call this man even more.
When Brad released him, Fiach stumbled a step or two back, nearly tripping against the chair at his desk. Flushing with embarrassment for how he was acting, and how he felt so badly that he needed help, he tried to force his feelings of sorrow, loneliness, helplessness, and weakness aside, to replace them with something else, anything else. Finding only anger, and being afraid he might actually lash out at Brad in a way more physical than he had last time, Fiach finally settled for collapsing into his chair, letting his gaze drop to the floor.
The faces of everyone he'd ever let down flitted through his mind's eye as Brad continued, and Fiach found himself floundering for an answer, for a response of anything. All he could do was wonder at how this stranger was so genuine in his efforts at helping him.
With a frustrated sigh, he looked back up at Brad, eyes sullen and red from the crying he'd done, "I'm not...a good person. I never was." Again having difficulty looking into the eyes of the man before him, his gaze dropped towards the floor once more as he numbly fingered the scars on his arm. As his finger traveled the length of the suicide scar, he sighed, "I did this because I didn't ask the question I should have, and two people died." His hand continued, to the small markings from drug abuse, "And these...I got in with a bad crowd. One of my girlfriends in Ireland...her family..." Fiach bit his lower lip as he paused, still having trouble with this new notion of opening up, "...I was a bouncer for her father until he hired me for a different job. More...lucrative. She had me try their wares...I got hooked...that's why...the old man saved my life..."
The shame of all his past mistakes burned deep as he dared to lift his eyes to Brad's, expecting to see disgust, or anger burning bright in this indigo eyes.
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Posted: Sat Jan 19, 2008 10:36 pm
Arms crossed over his broad chest, Brad did what he did best and listened. His eyes missed nothing, watching the struggle of self-loathing and pride, and the hesitant lapse into reaching out again. The truth be told, he didn't understand everything that came from the young man's mouth, but he tried to. He lifted one hand to rub the bridge of his nose, again running it through his hair as Fiach waited on him to speak. What could he say? He had to keep the other comfortable, but he had to make sure that the young man knew he was serious, too.
"You made mistakes, Fiach. It doesn't make you a bad person. That's just the cruel mistress we all call life." He looked into the eyes of the Irishman, still with his mostly neutral expression, sighing softly. Brad tugged at his jeans so he could kneel without yanking them down, putting himself just below eye level with Fiach. His jaw set firmly, and after a brief inward struggle, he gave in to warming up. "I'm sorry for your losses. I'm even more sorry for the pain you've suffered--now, don't mistake that for pity," he raised a hand as if to halt anything the youth might say, "because it's not. I don't pity anyone. I don't even sympathize if I can help it." He gave a brief twinge of a smile before continuing, "The guy I'm looking at isn't doing drugs. He's reaching out like he should...he's making an honest living. Your past doesn't define you, it just lays the path for what you want to be. And what you are right now is not what your past has set you up for. You're bigger than that, more than you give yourself credit for."
He took a breath - he couldn't remember the last time he'd talked so much, it was quite exhausting, really - and leaned his elbow against his knee, trying to hold Fiach's eyes. He was one to talk...but it wasn't about him right now. "So...you've had this godawful start in life. I can see pain on your face as clear as I see your scars. But what you have now isn't so bad, is it? You're still here...and you should give the 'old man' some credit for that. Don't dishonor his memory by destroying what he gave you." Brad assumed that the old man gave Fiach a second chance...or a third, or a fourth...but who was counting? He was trying to appeal to the other's sense of logic, and be less dependant on his emotions, which seemed unstable at best.
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Posted: Sat Jan 19, 2008 11:04 pm
An exasperated sigh managed to escape from between Fiach's lips as Brad seemed to not understand what he was saying. He had hoped that maybe the other man would take what he said and just accept it, maybe yell at him for being stupid...but now that that was basically what was happening...he found himself mildly frustrated that it didn't make him feel any less empty. If anything, he felt even more hollow and helpless than he'd started. And that was a disturbing thought.
His fingers tightened their grasp on his pants as Brad knelt down before him, the knuckles turning white as Brad started to speak again. Fiach didn't see how Brad could say he was sorry for his losses, or for his pain, when he didn't see Aine's face every night he went to sleep, or feel the guilt of knowing that one question could have made a difference. Tears again threatened to fall as he remembered Aine and Ailin, how he'd let them down so terribly, and his heart was filled with pain and regret at the should haves in his life. Even though what Brad said made sense on some level, on the part where Fiach had walked through life blaming himself for so much, holding on to so much pain and being afraid to have anyone to talk to left him still fighting the cry for help.
Unable to maintain eye contact with Brad, Fiach's eyes flitted over towards his desk. It was hard to stare into the eyes of a man who was making sense, not when you were frantically trying to run away in some manner. Not when you didn't want to open up, but knew that you needed to or you'd wind up doing something stupid again.
His fingers loosened their titan grip on his pants as he forced himself to look into Brad's eyes, "I almost went back to what I used to do tonight. I...It was call someone, get drunk, get high, or die. I just...wanted a way out. I can't stand the accusing stares I see every night when I go to sleep, Brad. It kills me inside that if I'd just asked Aine if she'd been drinking that night..." Fiach's eyes quickly widened in shock as he realized how close he had come to being blatantly honest with the stranger before him, and his hands tightened once more as he fought to remember how to breathe and how to swallow. Wishing he could just look away again, he found himself unable to, hovering over the need to have reassurance that it wasn't his fault, and the need to run away.
Taking a deep breath, he readied himself for the plunge as he tried to complete his last train of thought for the man before him, "If I'd asked her if she'd been drinking when I got into the car that night...Aine and her brother wouldn't be dead. She was driving...I suspected...but I didn't ask...didn't even think to offer to drive until I realized she was drunk..." Feeling lame and pitiful, he offered a small shrug as he finished, "And by then...it was too late. I nearly didn't walk again, she and her brother paid for my failings with their lives."
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Posted: Sat Jan 19, 2008 11:23 pm
Brad dropped his head. Fiach was frustrated with him, and he was beginning to get quite frustrated with the youth. Dragging his hand over his face, he glanced up again, brow lofted in scrutiny. "Do you really think that would have changed anything, Fiach? People don't admit when they're drunk, and I have a suspicious feeling that the Irish are somewhat worse than most." He also had a feeling that when he did finally offer, she refused, and that it would have been the same no matter what. "Don't blame yourself for someone else's bad judgement, jesus, Fiach!"
The man stood sharply, turning away from the seated man to pace for a moment. Guilt. Guilt was involved. God, he was bad at handling guilt because he didn't have any. His sandals flopped against his bare feet as he moved, trying to push down the urge to shake Fiach until he couldn't see straight. The real problem was that Fiach already couldn't see straight, and seemed to refuse to want to do anything about it. He stopped pacing a few feet away, looking at the being in question, biting the inside of his cheek. He couldn't lose his cool, that wouldn't help either of them.
"You can't blame yourself for events out of your control. Look, they lived their lives the way they wanted to and that was their mistake to make, not yours to bear! You need to let them go and let them rest Fiach, don't keep reliving that time and wishing it was you instead." Brad faced Fiach completely, crossing his arms again, trying to keep still. It was hard to make sense when he still didn't have the full story - he could already tell the young man was still keeping information, and he wasn't going to pry - but he was trying to make the best decisions and choice words for Fiach himself. Brad didn't want to say what Fiach wanted to hear, or what would be nice...but what needed to be said.
And he had a feeling this was not going to be received well. "People drink for a reason. We all do. So this Aine..." A pause. "I'm assuming she was in trouble. Like you." He sighed, not saying everything he wanted to, stating bluntly, "You're still not being one hundred percent clean with me, so I have to make some assumptions here. Fiach, it's not your fault. You just...you have to be responsible and fess up to mistakes, but not when you had no say in the situation. That's not fair to you or them."
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Posted: Sat Jan 19, 2008 11:41 pm
Fiach tried desperately to school his features to a calm, to make his frustrations and anger just simply disappear. Much as he wanted to right then, as he listened to Brad speak. Unable to stop himself as he nodded numbly, he again he could have changed what had happened had he refused to let her drive, had he asked her if she was drunk, or if she'd at least been drinking. He wouldn't have allowed her to drive that car had he known! Had he just been brave enough to ask. Raking one hand through his hair, he gave a shuddering sigh, still resisting the annoying urge to break down again, "If I had asked her before I got into the car, I could have driven us home. I..."
Again biting his tongue, he froze as he watched the other man get up and pace. Suddenly afraid of what Brad might do because he was being stupid, and he knew it. He just...couldn't force the words out that were supposed to be coming out. It was like there was an invisible barrier that kept freezing his tongue when he tried to be completely honest.
A small hint of a blush rose to his cheeks as he realized Brad knew perfectly well he wasn't telling the entire story. He made a mental note to himself to become better at lying, before growing angry at himself for being so inept at living. And for explaining why he was so angry at himself. With an angry sigh for his own behavior, Fiach finally smashed his fist against his desk, he was tired of always being scared! He shouldn't have been so scared that night, either!
Smiling mirthlessly, he rose his eyes to the other man's, a hollow laugh escaping from his mouth as he shrugged, "You could say that. We both had the same trouble with her brother. He beat her if I wasn't around, when I was...I took the beating. That night she picked me up was supposed to be our first real date together. We used to make music at the pub my mother ran, that's how we first met." He paused, having to fight the emotions and tears that threatened to bubble up and out at the memories this stirred, "I waited and waited for her to show up. So excited about getting to finally go out with just her, no brother with us, just her. But when she pulled up...her brother was in the car. I got in and smelled liquor, but I assumed it was his. I wanted to ask, should have asked, but I didn't." Another pause, Fiach frowned, frustrated at the memory and at how he hadn't bothered to ask a question that could have saved lives, "When I finally noticed the swerving and erratic driving...I begged her to let me drive. She was...together enough that...when we reached a sharp corner...she..." The tears started to fall as his voice broke, the memory too overwhelming to say calmly, "She told me that she was sorry, but that she loved me...and then everything exploded as we wrecked. She had needed a way out so desperately...and I hadn't done anything for her. So she took the situation into her own hands...I should've...I should've done something sooner. I should've asked."
Unable to speak anymore, he let his gaze drop again, watching the tears create patterns on his pants as they fell. Idly noticing that he'd have to wash his clothes at the rate he was going, thankful he hadn't gotten drunk and made an even bigger mess at the shop. Yet.
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Posted: Sat Jan 19, 2008 11:57 pm
A deep sigh hissed through his teeth as Fiach started to cry again. Brad mussed his own hair in frustration before approaching the younger man, standing next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. That was all he would do unless Fiach made a move for anything else. "You said it yourself, Fiach. She wanted a way out." An idea struck him, and he continued to speak. It was a bit of a low blow, but hopefully it would wake him up a little. "You wanted to help her, and she refused your help. I want to help you, I'm asking...don't refuse me, or I'm afraid of what I may read in the paper one day."
He squeezed the man's shoulder, his voice mellow, still with his gruff undertones. "This is a dangerous path you're following, and all I'm asking is that you let me walk with you. You're not alone here, okay? I know you're not my biggest fan, but that doesn't mean I can't be here to fall back on. I don't need a reason to want to help, so don't think you owe me anything, either." Brad felt the need to clarify that, since Fiach had no doubt been used for others and their advantage. The architect wanted nothing from Fiach but his peace of mind.
God, but this was getting complicated. This boy had more spiderwebs of pain than Brad had originally thought. He was silent for a moment, eyes elsewhere so that Fiach could have his moment, although his hand didn't stray from the other's shoulder. "Let it out. You shouldn't be keeping all this inside, so at least let your body cry." He murmured to himself, "You probably never let yourself mourn either, did you..."
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Posted: Sun Jan 20, 2008 12:11 am
Fiach winced slightly as the older man put his hand on him, again not entirely seeing the man before him, but the ghosts of his past. They were a difficult thing to let go, though he was slowly learning that he would have to to truly move on. It pained him to see the truth in what Brad was saying, and his silent tears only fell harder as the older man started to point out the similarities in Aine's situation and his. He still had difficulty understanding why this man was helping him, but slowly the pain in his heart was starting to ease. If only just a little.
"Accepting help...is hard when you've had to fight it for so long." It was the numb truth, and perhaps not the most accurate version of the truth, but it was how Fiach felt. He desperately wanted Brad's help, wanted anyone's help, but found taking that leap more than a little troubling. It was like he stood at the edge of a precipice, ready to fall off, and seeing a hand stretched out before him, but was afraid to grab it to save himself. Though he cursed himself for it, what he wanted right then was another hug. A reminder that he wasn't alone, and at the barely heard murmurs of Brad, he found the temptation too hard to resist, even though he knew it was awkward and bizarre, and he stood up and leaned into the older man, wrapping his arms around him as he shook his head.
"I...tried to commit suicide shortly after I was out of the hospital...after that...I wandered for a year...didn't care about life, didn't really eat much, wanted to wither away and die...But I couldn't."
After the first failed attempt, actually killing himself had become harder. He could never bring himself to actually finish the job, and so had resorted to trying to let nature take its course. An event that had been interrupted by Ailin, when he so handily stepped in. Remembering that man sent a small rush of fear through Fiach, and he turned his bright blue eyes onto Brad, suddenly afraid the older man would suddenly leave.
"Please...you won't...leave, will you? I can't...just please...Don't...walk away when I start trusting you..."
And somewhere, deep in his mind, Fiach sat mentally cursing himself for how weak and stupid he was coming across. Here was this stranger, comforting him and caring for him as if he were a close friend, or a relative. And all Fiach could do was beg him to not abandon him like a wuss.
How awkward this was fast becoming, a fact that scared Fiach almost as much as actually opening up to this stranger. How much would Brad take before he'd walk away and leave Fiach to his mind's incessant ramblings?
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Posted: Sun Jan 20, 2008 11:28 am
He didn't say it out loud, but Brad knew what Fiach meant, about it being hard to accept help after rejecting it for so long. He easily had ten years on the seated man, and he was just realizing now in his age what Fiach was trying to come to terms with. Brad didn't envy what the other had to go through to see the light, but he was relieved that the youth seemed to be coming around. It was hard on him, too, to fight for the distressed man to open up, as he truly didn't know enough of and about him to coax him into comfort. He could only be brutally honest, as it was just about all he was capable of, for better or for worst.
In this case, it seemed to be for the better, as Fiach was suddenly against him and trying to talk. Brad reacted instantly, shifting and sliding his arms around the man of his own height, trying to be supportive. He was about to make a light joke about Fiach being too stubborn for life to give up on, but when he turned his head, he was suddenly staring into frightened blue eyes. That gave him a hell of a start, and had the youth not spoken, Brad would have just stared and gaped for a handful of minutes. As it were, the words were enough for him to gather himself, despite his wide-eyed surprise.
Gods above, what type of relationship was he building with this man? One I hope I can do good in, he thought grimly, before speaking out loud, "I'm not going anywhere, Fiach. Hit me and scream all you want, but you're kinda stuck with me now. I hope that's okay." Brad smiled a little, wondering when it would start being awkward to be holding a man and comforting him from so close. He knew he'd never leave someone who genuinely needed him. He had already made that mistake, and he was still paying for it everyday. Repeating it was not an option.
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Posted: Sun Jan 20, 2008 1:06 pm
He felt horrible and awkward for standing there practically forcing this stranger to hug him, yet it was all Fiach wanted right then. When Brad wrapped his arms back around him, he felt an odd sense of relief that maybe he wasn't crazy, and it really wasn't so bad to need help. While he waited and searched Brad's indigo eyes for some sort of response after he spoke, he nearly had to hold his breath when the older man stared at him for just a little while. Sure that in his nearly panicked state he would run the only thing keeping him from draining the bottle of whiskey on the floor and getting into trouble out the door, a surprised sigh of relief exited his mouth when the man said he wouldn't leave.
Slowly, he was staring to feel like his old self around the older man, and that left him painfully aware of the fact that he was practically coercing the man into physical contact with him. Physical proximity that Fiach himself wasn't even very comfortable with. Suddenly embarrassed he had assumed Brad would be like Ailin and everyone else in his life, he attempted to bury his head in the man's shoulder to hide the slight blush that rose to his cheeks from shame. Frustrated with himself for acting so childish and girly, he again stepped back from the man, this time moving over towards the bottle, to pick it up and give him a reason to not be facing Brad. As he knelt down to lift the bottle up, he sighed when his fingers clasped the neck of the bottle, "I guess...I'm just afraid that everyone I trust will leave. They have in the past..." He stood up and placed the bottle on the desk, sliding it away from him and closer to the edge near Brad. That gave him two reasons to not go near the man, he was sorely tempted to down that bottle right then and there, and his old fears of the older man were resurfacing as his head started to clear.
His head was killing him, with the pain of emotional scars laid bare, and ones still not yet revealed that pulsated close to the surface, but it was clearing enough from his earlier panic that he could see how stupid he truly was. "I'm sorry I'm so stupid...you just...you remind me so much of Brian." Fiach paused, not quite certain he'd actually just admitted to that out loud and when he realized he had, he felt himself start to flounder once again. "Its the way you both have that patient stare...it just...scares me." And it makes me feel so helpless, like I have to be open or I'll burst.
Feeling again like he'd said too much, like he was forcing the older man to listen when he didn't particularly want to, Fiach clammed up. Not sure exactly what to do, just knowing he had a lot running through his head that wanted out, and too afraid to really say anything without a little pushing.
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2008 5:46 pm
The poor man was having a hell of a time keeping up with Fiach's mood swings, but he was doing the best he could given the situation. One minute, it seemed like the younger man wanted nothing to do with Brad and wanted nothing more than to be miles away; the next, he found Fiach in his arms, practically trembling. Perhaps strangely enough, he really didn't mind dealing with both sides of this coin, no matter how conflicting they were. He, himself, wasn't terribly affectionate by nature, but he could be. He generally kept to himself with struggles, but on the off chance that he did open up to someone - much like Fiach - he could be just as needy as his sister. That thought alone was somewhat frightening.
A hand lifted to better hold Fiach as he buried his face, but instead, the youth moved away again. Indigo eyes moved with the younger man, watching his movements more than what he was doing. He was, as far as Brad could tell, getting a better handle on himself, even if the situation was slipping far more out of control that he wanted it to. It was fine by him; Brad was used to things that had no certainty or definite answer, despite his best efforts to keep his life in a neat and orderly plan.
"I'll take that as a compliment," he finally said, reaching out to take the bottle from Fiach. He didn't do so much as look at it as he put it even further from the two, his attention still fully upon the Irishman. He opened his mouth to say, I suppose the stare comes from having children, but really, when had he ever treated Ashlynn like a daughter rather than a hurdle in his life? He had no right to say anything about being a father, and so shut his mouth, and didn't. Considering, he tried to speak again, "I just want to help. I know that has to be weird for you, given our small amount of history, but I also want you to know I'm not...I don't expect anything in return and I'm not going to leave you high and dry."
Brad leaned against the desk on his hip, thoughtful. "You may know what it's like to be left like that...and I have the agony of knowing what it is to be the one who did the leaving. I assure you, it's not a pain I will ever repeat, under any circumstance." He smiled a little, hoping to alleviate some of the anxiety with that little revelation about himself. In his experience, most people weren't receptive to chatting without some encouragement, especially when it came to equal share. This was just his way of putting a little bit out there - enough so Fiach knew Brad was human, he made mistakes, and he was learning still. Somehow, he hoped it made him seem less...monsterous.
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2008 8:26 pm
With what felt like thousands of thoughts running around in his wildly, Fiach wasn't even sure if he was standing up properly anymore. All he really knew as a certainty was that he was afraid of telling the truth, and afraid of what Brad might say to the truth of what his past was like - and he was afraid to keep it all in anymore. The body's response of 'fight or flight' was causing him to panic, unable to pick a way out, without simply fleeing Brad's sight outright. A thought that while briefly entertaining, Fiach knew both wouldn't work and would merely make the situation worse. While he wanted to be held and told that it was all right, that everything was fine, at the same time on some level, he both knew and understood that everything wasn't all right, and wasn't quite fine.
With his fists clenched tightly at his sides as he refused to look at the older man, fighting with himself on a mixture of emotions as they wound and lashed their way around his mind and heart, his eyes again lit on the obituary in the newspaper. Though there were other things written on that page, each time his eyes lit upon it, all he could see was Brian's name. Combined with Brad's next words, the trembling within him grew until he was certain that Brad could see it and would think him crazy. Though, in reality, Fiach wasn't certain he was sane, not anymore.
As Brad continued to speak, Fiach's arms slowly wound around his upper body, hugging himself tightly, as he stared forlornly at that article. Condemning himself each time he read and re-read it, hearing it as a dull echo in his mind against the roar of everything else that was going on inside of it. Slowly, at the reassurances he was receiving, and the kind, steady words with which the older man spoke, Fiach dared to raise his eyes into the pools of indigo, simply staring as if trying to search out if the man was being honest, or simply telling him false.
It wasn't so much that he was afraid of Brad, as he was of the truth, and when Brad spoke the truth...that fear wound its way into being represented by the man before him. Sighing softly, Fiach stared into the man's eyes with ones that were tired beyond what they should have been for a boy his age. He felt weary of running from his past, and tired of giving half reasons. Yet still, he wanted to fight against opening up, and rallied what he knew deep within his heart would likely be his last real fight against being truthful, "Why should I believe you will be different than my parents, my previous friends, those that I loved..." He choked just a little as again the memory of Ailin's leaving wound into his memory of its own volition, "Or of those that claimed to love me?"
He knew it wasn't a fair question, not one that he'd really believe the answer to, but it was all he had left to throw into the face of what he really wanted. To talk and be open for once in his life.
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Posted: Mon Jan 28, 2008 3:46 pm
Brad stared placidly back at Fiach, his lips drawn in a grim line. He had felt this question would arise, this accusation and angry effort to keep him at bay. It was a hard question, a cruel question, and one that the older man couldn't answer out right because there was no reason why he should be any more worthy or different than those before him. Not anything that he could convince Fiach of, anyway, as the two were still practically strangers, no matter how deeply they were delving into the younger man's past. It was times like this that Brad understood the 'between a rock and a hard place' saying.
Slowly, thoughtfully, he replied as honestly as he could. "I can't answer that," he started, his voice soft, "because I don't want to make you do anything. If you want to talk, if you want a person near by, it has to be your decision, Fiach, not mine." He found peace with his answer, finding surprise in himself at the truth of it. "All I have right now is words. Ultimately, it's you who has to decide if I'm worth it or not. No, that's not right--" he shook his shaggy head, "--you have to decide if you're worth it or not. I'm telling you that you are. You're telling me that you're not. But if you want to trust, someone to lean on...at least I'm as tall as you are for that."
A weak smile touched his lips. "You haven't chased me away. That has to count for something?" Brad could not, however, comment on the foreign word that Fiach added into the mix: love. He couldn't tell if Fiach was asking him to be someone he could trust with his life, or if his secrets were the same in the metaphorical sense. That type of companionship wasn't anything he had ever personally experienced outside of Alani, and his love for her was something he was still coming to terms with. That wasn't saying he wasn't willing to try, but he felt it best to leave that ball if Fiach's court if it ever came to play.
Brad wasn't sure he could say anything else. He didn't want to force the youth to do anything, as that wouldn't encourage the freedom and acknowledgement that he was trying to beseech from Fiach. He spread his arms, both symbolic in 'this is all I am' and 'I'm here for you,' allowing the younger man to interpret it as he so chose.
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Posted: Mon Jan 28, 2008 5:12 pm
Even as Fiach waited with nearly baited breath to hear what the older man had to say, he half hoped Brad would give him a reason to stop talking. That maybe the older man would say something that would give him every reason to distrust, and return to hiding. Still hugging himself tightly, still staring tiredly into the older man's eyes, and as Brad began to talk, Fiach found himself chewing on his lower lip. Despite himself, he kept giving Brad questions designed to trap him into giving Fiach every reason to run away again. It was that part of him that felt oddly disappointed when Brad not only gave him no reason to continue running, but gave him every reason to stop hiding.
Slowly his arms loosened their grip on his torso, as he fought the urge of his jaw to simply hang open in surprise and disbelief. Why wasn't this stranger complying and giving Fiach reasons to keep running? He wanted to stop hiding from his memories, stop having restless nights of sleep. Fiach wanted to stop being afraid to be an older brother to his sister, quiet being alarmed by the mere sound of the word 'friendship'. The twenty one year old had harbored guilt for almost everything in his life, though most of it had been out of his control. The divorce, the way his mother hurt when she looked at him, the fact that his mother had beat him even left him feeling guilty. So much of his past he had woven tightly around him as a cloak to hide from reality with, and he felt that weaving slowly start to cloud and dissipate.
There was still a heavy pounding in his temples, and the very air around him felt like it was weighing down on him, making it difficult to breath properly, and yet even through all the wanderings of his mind, a faint smile found its way to his lips by the end of Brad's words. One hand finally unwound itself fully from his torso to scrub through his hair as he let out a hefty sigh. It wasn't one of exasperation, but one of weariness, a bone deep weariness with the world and with himself. He'd called this man to help him, yet was afraid to accept the hand offered to him. It made him feel foolish and awkward, feeling worse for having actually made the phone call he hadn't intended to make.
Finally letting his hand drop back to his side from his face, he gave another, softer sigh, as he slowly pondered out his next move. If anything, Brad was slowly coming to remind Fiach of the father he never really had to know, and of how Brian had deftly, and carefully pushed him forward always being quick to tell him that the past wasn't worth dying over. Both feelings confused and concerned him, as he wasn't entirely sure this was a man he should even be projecting those emotions onto. Brad was a stranger, hardly old enough to be like a father to him, no matter how small and young he made Fiach feel with his presence.
It was with a soft, quiet voice that Fiach finally was able to voice what he wanted...what he needed, and his eyes dropped as his mouth opened. "I want...to stop running from my past. I want to be able to be proud of myself again, to stand tall and to feel like I'm actually worth something. I really want to be a good older brother, a good example, to my little sister. But I don't...I don't know if I can. Or if I'm even worth it. I've spent my entire life being told how worthless I am...its...hard to stop thinking that way."
The hand that rested near to his hip tightened against him, as he tried to focus on what he wanted to say, and what he wanted to do. Not what the past was, and what the memories dictated. No one could possibly be as worthless as he felt, could they? Biting his lip once more as he reflected briefly over how he always wound up making his sister feel, how he'd been so carefully pushing her to the side for his own selfish reasons, he realized just how much of a coward he'd always been. And how much he hated himself for being such a coward.
"I'm just...afraid that if I talk to someone and open up...they'll leave and hurt me again. The last person I really opened up to..." Fiach paused as a slight blush rose to his cheeks, not quite sure how to tell Brad why he had such immense difficulties trusting this man, just because he was an older man. His eyes turned more towards the floor, refusing to look Brad in the face, as he continued, "Ailin...made me feel like I was worth something when all I wanted was to die. I couldn't try suicide again, and was letting myself waste away...but he wouldn't let me. He showed up at the place I worked and made me eat, made me take care of myself. Eventually...we moved in together. When I..had my nightmares, he would hold me and remind me that I was safe. That it was okay...but one day...he left...Because I didn't...wouldn't...see the truth."
A lump rose in his throat as he had to take another brief pause, before he managed to finish hoarsely...and a bit lamely, "I didn't know how he felt...and I hurt him so much...finally...he just left. I felt so alone and terrified after that...I don't...I don't want to feel like that again. I don't want to open up and trust and have to watch someone leave again. Even if its not the same...I don't think I can handle someone else leaving after I start to trust them..."
Feeling stupid and more foolish than he had the entire conversation, Fiach stood there, chewing on his lower lip and staring at the floor. He fully expected harsh words to fall his way, and was nearly quivering from fear of what the other man might say. He knew that there wouldn't be a situation like that with Brad, but he was still terrified that if he trusted someone, they would inevitably crush his spirit and walk away.
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Posted: Mon Jan 28, 2008 5:42 pm
Patience was one of Brad's very few virtues, and he was grateful for it now as he stood and waited, watching the young man struggle within himself. The smile was encouraging, the several sighs a little worrisome, and when Fiach finally spoke, the older man was listening intently. He was half expecting an underlying tone of anger, blame, or regret even...and yet, he was pleasantly surprised with the gentle frankness that he heard. He was gratified, in a way, that he had said what needed to be said without being a complete a**, and that Fiach was finally - FINALLY - starting to unravel a little. The youth was so tightly wound that he was sincerely doubting that the other would be able to peel away the layers without a minor explosion. Really, it was too early to assume there wouldn't be an explosion, and he still had to be prepared...just in case.
Ah. And part of Fiach's reluctance - and a little clarity on his use of the word 'love' - became clear as the youth shed some light on another rough patch in his life. Brad watched and listened, and felt his heart go out to the young man who looked little more than a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, lost even as he was trying to find himself. He wanted to reach out, but wasn't sure if it was appropriate given the topic of discussion. Settling for a compromise, he took a few steps towards Fiach, sliding one arm around the other's broad shoulders in a half hug. Comfort without pushing himself on the young man. It was a start.
He was quiet for a moment, looking at the ground as though seeking where Fiach was staring. A soft 'hmm' noise escaped his throat as he stood there, thoughtful, pressing his lips together. This was a little harder for him, as he hadn't had enough romantic situations - least of all with the same sex - to be of too much help. "I think," he started slowly, "that others are drawn to you, Fiach. People who need help. People who need to...find something in themselves that they're missing. Something that they see in you." He continued to keep his eyes downcast; not averted, but not seeking his either. "However, these people and their problems are deep, raw, and needy. You seem to give them everything, all of you, but when they've got what they've needed, they cast you aside and move on. Am I close?"
His eyes did finally lift, not sure if he would see the other man looking at him in return. "Fiach, you can't blame yourself for the short comings in others. That's not fair. Especially if they aren't being completely trusting and open with you as you are with them. Friendship - companionship - it's all a two way street, and any that are on a one-way path are doomed to end that way." Brad frowned a little, not at Fiach but at the hell the boy had been through in his younger years. "I can't promise you that I wont hurt you. I've been told I'm a blunt b*****d on more than one occassion, but I wont ever say anything with the intention of causing you harm. I'm not going to run and I'm not going to leave - I live here too, y'know, and with our track record, I'd run into you eventually."
A faint smile lit his lips momentarily. "I'm not asking you to put all your faith in me, but I am telling you that I'll carry it. People...shouldn't need a reason to reach out to others, but in today's world, you've suffered the brunt of the dregs of human nature." He fell silent again, trying to recall a drifting memory. "My...one of my father figures, he told me once in a dark time that I had broad shoulders to better carry the weight of life. That it was bestowed upon me that way because I had the ability to cope with it, no matter what."
Another pause, eyes warm with the memory and kind upon Fiach, his words echoing that warmth. "I think you've carried enough for a couple life times, Fiach. Just because you've got the shoulders of Atlas doesn't mean you have to bear it alone."
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