|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Jun 10, 2015 5:45 pm
"I-it wasn't just m-me," Oliver replied, snuffling weakly. "T-the two hunters, s-somehow they survived..." That in itself wasn't an entirely cheery thought, those two hunters had been cut open, dissected, had bugs crawling around their organs and muscles... Even if he hadn't protected them, there had been no guarantee they would even make it back to the island alive.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 10, 2015 6:37 pm
Horace sat silent for a second and then he shifted. He leaned over and cught Oliver's arm. "These," he said, and pushed up Oliver's sleeve until he could feel the scars under his hand. The pads of his fingers pressed against him, and he ignored any attempts Oliver might have made to get free. "-you know, these are their lives, Oliver. You saved them. That's who you are." You let go of the other man's arm and leaned back against the wall. "Every brave person thinks about running away; everyone worries about failing. But you didn't. You stayed and those people are alive because of you. And if you can remember it when you wake up, then maybe it'll help with your dreams. I-" He breathed in deeply. "-honestly don't know if they ever go completely away, but I think they fade. They're lies and lies never stay."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 10, 2015 7:02 pm
Oliver did flinch, but he didn't pull away entirely. The warm touch gave him goosebumps, it was an unfamiliar sensation to have someone touch his skin so deliberately. He didn't like the scars, but Jökul had done his work well, and they were no longer the ugly red slashes they had once been. " I-it's still so scary at night..." He finally said in a tiny voice, and then wiped his eyes again. Horace was right, he didn't have scars because of any failure, he had those scars because he did the right thing. And maybe if he felt more confident in general, he would have less of the other scary dreams too. Like the ones where he was the one being dissected, or being attacked by mall zombies... He took a deep, shuddering breath. "O-okay. Um... n-now you."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 11, 2015 9:52 am
He made a small, commiserating noise. "Everything is worse at night - if you think it might help sometime, I could try spending the night? I'm not sure if having another body in the room might work, but..." Horace shrugged and deliberately leaned in Oliver the way Hattie did when she worried about him. At Oliver's words, Horace's expression immediately shuttered. "No, it's... fine. We don't have to talk about me/"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 11, 2015 10:33 am
Oliver nodded, but avoided looking in Horace's direction. It was embarrassing to admit, but not being alone in the dark was a bit of a comfort. He was grown up, an adult fighting monsters and risking his life regularly, he shouldn't need someone's company just to get a good night's sleep... And yet he had once again accepted the offer. Under the circumstances he thought it might just be okay every now and again, but when Horace began to shut down, Oliver felt that anxiousness work it's way back into his belly. "Wait, w-what do you mean it's fine?" He protested, pulling back slightly. Hadn't that been the agreement, to share with each other? Had he said something wrong?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 11, 2015 11:40 am
"Well," he said, too preoccupied with his own sudden wave of anxiety to notice Oliver edging away. "W-we already talked about something emotionally distressing and stuff, so... so that's that. I..." He swallowed. "I'm fine. We don't need to talk about me."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 11, 2015 11:52 am
Oliver jerked away more abruptly, his voice rising with panic. "Y-you said w-we... W-we were gonna talk about things- That I-I wasn't the o-only one w-with..." He couldn't continue, it was like a large lump had formed in his throat and made it hard to breathe. There were fresh tears welling up in his eyes, and he looked hurt, and more than a little scared. It felt like he just had his feet pulled out from under him. Had his basis for sharing been misunderstood? Suddenly there was too much weight on his chest, the anxiety and the shame, and the kid's eyes darted to the door as his 'fight or flight' reaction began to kick in.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 11, 2015 6:23 pm
He watched his friend dissolve into a ball of panic and felt disgust well up inside of him. Disgust not for Oliver, but for himself. He shoved a hand through his hair and averted his eyes. He wasn't a ******** hero like Oliver, his dreams were only the product of something he'd deserved and- "Yeah, you aren't the only one. I get ******** nightmares, a-awful things, but I'm.. I'm not a goddamn hero or any s**t like that." His hands clenched into fists. It was easier to be angry than anxious, than miserable. "I deserve my ******** nightmares, Oliver! I made them happen!" And because of that, he felt he didn't have any right to talk about them anymore, even if it would help. Especially if it helped. He didn't deserve to feel better. Abruptly, Horace felt like crying.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 11, 2015 7:36 pm
Oliver flinched at the curse, and seemed to curl in on himself to avoid the obscenities that had suddenly appeared in his gentle, jovial friend's language. It was explosive, like lashing out and punching a wall, or slamming doors, the kind of action that made timid people such as himself extra nervous. A part of him still wanted to escape. Yet he couldn't believe what Horace was saying, that he deserved that sort of emotional pain. Horace was the kind of guy who visited some complete stranger in the infirmary just because, and who offered to cook cheesy bread, and accepted panic attacks and tears, and believed in true love. Nothing about him suggested to Oliver that he deserved the pain he had suffered, he was just as much a victim as anyone who woke up crying at night. "N-no..." Oliver finally stammered, struggling to put words to the overwhelming ache he felt on his friend's behalf. This time the tears that fell were not for his own suffering. Horace had been hurt not just once by that man he loved, but again by the people who claimed to be his rescuers. Oliver hated it, that Horace had been pushed to those self-loathing emotions. "I-I'm not Taym, o-or America, y-you can't make me believe you deserve any of that..." He said with a firm conviction, apparent despite the stammer and tearful expression.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 12, 2015 10:39 am
"Yes, Oliver." His teeth clenched and Horace scratched and dug his nails along the base of his thumb, the tactile sensation sharp and focusing. He breathed deeply and then, his face deliberately blanked. When Horace spoke again, his voice was flat and the emotion had been squeezed out of it. "It was a... misunderstanding. Nothing more than I deserved. America said so, Jan said so. I must have asked for it. And so, the things that result from that are no one's consequences but my own." It had to be just a misunderstanding; it had to be something he deserved because nothing would come to him that he did not deserve; it had to be just because he hadn't been good enough, strong enough, enough. He didn't have a reason to have these dreams. Or a reason for them to stop. "I deserve my dreams and we don't have to t-talk about them." He'd been doing so well, until the end, when his voice skipped and wavered. The nightmares were just... just more proof about how weak he was being. He wasn't like Oliver, hadn't done any good - the nightmares were memories or worse and although they plagued him, he had done nothing to not deserve them.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 12, 2015 10:55 am
"The only people who ask for that kind of pain are the people who don't deserve it!" Oliver blurted out, before breaking down into sobs. He thought there was nothing worse than seeing his friends injured, but this sort of psychological trauma was the most awful thing to witness. Horace truly believed the things he was saying, and Oliver just didn't have the strength or charisma to convince him otherwise. The kid's shoulders shook as he sobbed. "Y-you don't..." he mumbled between sobs. "Y-you've h-hurt enough, p-please don't... Don't hu-hurt more..."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 12, 2015 7:04 pm
He stared at the wall, trying to ignore the sound of noisy sobbing from Oliver. Oliver could cry, and did, often. But Oliver was Oliver. Horace would grin and bear it because it was the only way he could function. He breathed through his nose for a moment, fearing that if he opened his mouth, he'd sob and choke on everything he couldn't quite say. When he spoke, his voice was thick and somehow a little desperate. "Haven't you ever wanted somebody to hurt you because it made everything feel a little brighter, because that pain was easier to focus on than everything that might be w-" wrong. He swallowed the word, refused to acknowledge even thinking it. Horace clenched his teeth, his lips set in a sad line. His tongue twisted instead his mouth, feeling thick and he ran it over the backs of his teeth, the movement a distraction. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to break down like Oliver could so easily, to cry and see if in the crying there was relief. But he didn't, he couldn't. And of course Oliver couldn't understand why he wasn't able to, why he had to say these things. As always, when on th verge of being overwhelmed, Horace shifted - shifted his attention to Oliver, shifted his thoughts, shoved away anything he didn't want to think about or examine too closely. If he could just focus on others, he didn't have to think about anything personal. Slowly, he unballed one fist and began to rub Oliver's back again. "Oliver, it's okay." He was proud of how his voice didn't waver, although some of the flat tone had snuck back in. "Don't cry - it's ok. Your dream will eventually fade. It'll be okay. Maybe we should try to sleep."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 12, 2015 7:33 pm
Oliver couldn't get any words out, not even broken ones, as he sat hunched over and sobbing. All those sleepless nights, the worry, the insecurity after that latest zombie mission, it tried to come out all at once through those tears and trying to fight that would be like trying to fight against breathing itself. There wasn't even space left to cry harder over his friend's desperate plea for understanding. Horace seemed to slip back into that selfless caring role once again, and even though his friend's words said it was okay, the tone was betrayal enough. Yet the gentle hand on his back did it's job, and Oliver's sobs lessened. Then they dissolved completely into sniffles and disconsolate hiccups. He leaned against Horace for comfort, but his breath still hitched when he inhaled. " S-sometimes..." Oliver hiccuped, weakly and in the tiniest broken voice. " S-sometimes you think i-it... I-it will be okay i-if you just... h-hurt a little m-more..." He closed his eyes tightly, and let out one last weak sob. " M-maybe i-it will m-make up for... f-for your failures..." He didn't want to admit it, that was something he had been avoiding for a long time. The reason why he ran himself ragged, pushing himself physically until he threw up, pushing himself mentally until he fell asleep at his desk. Why he hated taking up a bed in the infirmary when he was injured. It was the reason he had all those half-finished letters in his desk drawer. Good-byes, for when his failures finally caught up with him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 12, 2015 7:57 pm
They leaned into each other, Horace still rubbing Oliver's back gently. It seemed to be helping. There was something to be said for human contact, he thought. For a while, Horace had pushed everyone away, even Hattie, not wanting to be touched. But after so long, it had become something he missed, even small things like a hand reaching out, or bigger things like a hug. And maybe, maybe if, when Jan came back, he laid skin to skin with the other man, everything would be okay. Horace was scared. ********, everything was tangled up in his head like razor wire wrapping around him. It was only a matter of time before he broke. But tonight was not that night. Tonight, he concentrated on making Oliver feel better. "One day you'll stop punishing yourself, Oliver." And this time, there was a little more of Horace in his voice. His friends deserved only happiness, even if he did not. Oliver had done the right thing and still paid for it in sleepless nights.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 12, 2015 8:33 pm
Oliver shook his head weakly, an almost visceral reaction to those reassurances. He had run out of tears, but the sources of distress still remained, along with a bout of fresh shame from that evening itself. He felt sick with it, how he had just spilled out all of his fears and worries onto Horace and in the end he hadn't even been able to return the support. He was too weak, not worth trusting... Always having to lean on people and never being strong enough to help them when they needed it. He struggled to refocus, and pull himself out of the dark paths his mind had taken. It was at least something he had practice with, the superficial term 'I'm okay' was a mantra that had been used to reduce suspicion for years. It made him feel hollow inside, but that was better than hurting. He had to at least try and pretend. " A-are you s-still going to stay?" Oliver asked as casually as possible, though he was almost afraid of the answer. He was afraid Horace would say no, and even more afraid that no would break him completely. " I-I h-have some clean sheets, s-somewhere, a-and um... s-snacks... m-more cheetos..."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
