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 Posted: Mon Sep 12, 2016 10:54 pm
sending out flares
Chris collapses into Thorne's touch, almost boneless, using it as grounding. As something, anything, to feel like he isn't in the void, in a nightmare, in Other Ashdown. He's still trembling, still a shake in him, but something in him settles as he walks with Thorne.
"There's-" Chris says and he wants to believe Thorne, knows on some level that he's right, but there's still something behind him, something following his steps. He's not sure what's scarier - the idea that Chris is losing it or if something is there Thorne can't see.
He's almost drawn into another panic, almost but Thorne is there solid, grounding. A reminder as he presses his forehead to Chris, drawing him out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts.
"Just us," Chris repeats and he knows he even sounds doubtful, but he desperately wants to believe this. He closes his eyes for a second but it makes it worse and he opens them again, gaze shaky, unable to keep focus on anything. His palms are sweaty and he wipes them against his jeans, swallows.
Selfish, the Monster behind him whispers, drawing him into your own problems.
Chris' gaze is jittery, hard to hold, but he manages to keep it on Thorne at his request. Manages to find relief in Thorne's hands, drawing him a little closer to reality. But there's still something creeping behind him, wearing the skin of the already dead, and he doesn't know what to do. "You promise?" He asks, feeling like a kid. Sounding like a kid.
He follows Thorne's lead easily, a hand snaking out to grab at the edge of Thorne's shirt. "I'm sorry," He says and he doesn't know who he's exactly repeating it to.
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Posted: Mon Sep 12, 2016 10:56 pm
your favorite scar
Thorne exhales sharply, almost a gasp, when Chris comes onto the bed, when there is nothing but this - but a warm body surrounding him, and his heart jackrabbits because Melany smiles in the shadows an Corr laughs from somewhere off-screen. It's a terrible movie, he thinks. It's Hitchcock, they'll kill him eventually, and they'll never be seen by the audience because that's how the other boot falls.
They'll -
This is real, Chris says, and it's like learning how to breathe all over again. Coming up for air. Thorne lets his body unwind against Chris's, and he presses his forehead against the soft hollow of the teachers throat. He breathes out, a shuddering breath, and tries to steady the rhythm of his heart.
"You think so?" Thorne asks him, a breathless sound. "I want it to be okay. I want us to be okay." It's a prayer that goes nowhere, goes into the darkness and the stars that watched over them from a fractured angle while a man cut Adoelle's throat. Thorne relives that dream when he passes people on the street. He relives it with Chris in her place, or Shiloh, or Lady. He relives it and his chest aches more and more.
His arms come up, wrap desperately around Chris. He does not hold him in a cage, but rather lets his fingers trace serpentine figures against the planes of the blonds back, the dip of his spine. It is repetition, artists hands. It calms him down even though the paint and easels and broken charcoal he's barely touched doesn't seem to anymore.
His eyes lid, but he looks up at Chris. His mouth catches against the corner of the others jaw.
"Chris," he says, and it is heavy with every want to protect and be protected. A seeking sound, a telling one. "I want you to be okay. If nothing else, I - "
And he trails off, his voice raw, a whisper, legs tangling against Chris's, still trembling from remembrance. But Chris is warm and comforting. Thorne sees Melany out of the corner of his eye, and the fear guts him, but something slides like steel beneath.
This isn't yours, he thinks, an ember of viciousness in his body. This will not be yours.
And she disappears.
"I won't let them have this."
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Posted: Mon Sep 12, 2016 11:48 pm
your favorite scar
He runs his fingers through Thorne's hair gently, mussing up his curls further, running his nails along his scalp. He's hoping to calm Thorne further with it, like it's calming him, taking the undercurrent of fear he had been feeling earlier away.
Thorne unwinds under him and Chris wants to tuck him under him further, protect him from whatever he had been seeing, had seen. But instead he just focuses on his pulse beneath him, the steady reminder that Thorne is here. Alive, safe, alive.
"Yeah," Chris says and it's a truth, a wish wrapped up in hope. He thinks they can, that it will be, but some days it feels like it's so far away that Chris is hoping for nothing. On days like this, that sentiment burns him the most. "I want us to be okay too," He admits quietly, tilting his head downward.
Thorne's arms around him steady him, hold him closer to the idea that they'll be okay one day instead of letting it be a fleeting wish. He closes his eyes for a moment, just focuses on the patterns tracing on his back, shapes he can't figure out but comfort all the same.
He opens them at his name, focuses his gaze on Thorne. He's silent for a moment, mouth thinned into a line, body language still protective.
It takes him a minute but then he says, "I want you to be okay too."
Wonders if he's being selfish, if a ghost will tell him to stop hurting them with what he wants. But it isn't the time for that, isn't the place and he pushes it away, empties his mind. Focuses on the warmth pressed against him, the familiarity of skin to skin contact and legs tangling and Thorne's breath against his skin.
I won't let them have this, Thorne says, and Yes Chris breathes. Feels it within the ache of his bones, feels it as something new and old all at the same time.
Because he's just as stubborn as Thorne, just as protective as him and Chris will not allow them to take this home from him again. Will not let them burn it down, will not allow the to hand him the matches and make his own destruction.
If it means the end of himself he will protect this what he can.
"I won't either."
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2016 12:00 am
sending out flares
Thorne keeps his hold on Chris like if he lets go the world will spin away from him. Thorne keeps his hold like it's a lifeline, not just for Chris but for him as well. He is not trembling, he refuses to tremble, but the fear laces though him like the wicked edge of a blade.
All he wants to do is protect Chris, and he doesn't know how.
"Yes," Thorne responds, easily, softly, and he takes Chris and leads him through the warehouse, careful and slow, until they are at the door of the bedroom. Because Chris needs sleep, and Thorne doesn't know if he'll be able to grasp it, but Thorne has to try somehow to help.
To do anything.
"Just us. They can't be here," Thorne says, and his voice is soft and raw and melodic. It deepens with the same conviction as that night when they had danced. His knees hit the edge of the bed, and he says, "Trust me."
He pulls Chris to sit with him, tangled at the edge where pillows and sheets have been rucked about, messily replaced after a hasty load of laundry. Gently, he tugs Chris's head to his shoulder, wraps his arms around him fully and holds him the way he'd been held once.
"I promise," Thorne responds. And it is as easy as breathing. "I promise they won't come near you. I'll keep them away." And it will be this, he thinks, always this. He has endured Melany and Corr both. Fractured at their hands. But for Chris he'd go back. In a heartbeat, he would stand between them, because there is nothing in him that would not protect the person who'd pulled him out of their hell.
And even Melany's voice wavers inside of him at the thought.
Thorne turns his head and presses his nose to Chris's crown of hair.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," he says, another truth, like breath, like relearning how to breathe. "This was never your fault."
He draws a soft trail across Chris's back, a ghosting lull of shapes and animals, notes that he is safe, he will be safe, Thorne would do anything to make it so.
"I couldn't keep you from them before," Thorne says, a guilty admission, one of many, "but I won't let them near you now. So sleep, Chris. Or stay here with me."
He breathes out, lets his hand trail up to thread through Chris's hair. He remembers the reality of the motion, the sense of home embedded in it when Chris had held him like this before. He is returning the favor now. He is hoping beyond hope that he can do something. Anything.
"Stay here with me. I won't let them win."
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2016 7:54 pm
sending out flares
Even with the ease Thorne's granting Chris, there is still a part of him that is panicking, that has his hands shaking, that has his heart pounding. He wants to completely calm down but all he can feel is the absolute dread, the absolute certainty that there is something there and he can't do anything.
Thorne is his lifeline and Chris can only just barely keep his hold.
Trust me, Thorne says, and Chris just nods a faint reply, a whisper of a sound, "I do." Because Chris has always trusted Thorne, has always trusted him because he earned it quickly and without much fanfare. All it took was cupcakes, all it took was knowing that he liked Shiloh, that he cared for Shiloh. Chris had trusted him and he wasn't going to stop now.
He's easily led to the bed and it only takes him a vague moment of thought, a flash of years ingrained habit that gets him to toe off his boots before he lets himself be drawn fully onto the bed. Into Thorne.
He's tense at first, all stress, all fracture lines and broken edges unable to line up in him and it makes him rigid. He wants to stay. He wants to move, wants to stop dragging Thorne into his problem. The double whispers at his back, When will you let go, when will you leave and he shudders.
But Thorne says he won't let them come near and Chris takes a breath and then another and he.. settles. Lets himself rest upon Thorne, tuck his head into his neck and shake until he's finally worn himself. Till he's still, his arms loosely wrapped around Thorne.
"No, it was," He says gently, voice soft. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I brought them back. I'm sorry."
I'm sorry for everything I didn't do. I'm sorry for everything I can't do now, for burdening you, when I should be okay.
He takes another shuddering breath at Thorne's hand on his back, the trail comforting. A reminder of home.
"Don't," He says, something in his voice hard. "It wasn't your fault, I walked into danger myself." He'd walk into a million more times too, just to get Thorne out. To make sure that he was safe.
Thorne's hand works his way into his hair and Chris feels better, grounded slightly. His head is still tucked into the crook of Thorne's neck and he can't see anything and he trusts that Thorne will defend them.
Chris wants to reply to Thorne again, wants to tell him something but he's comfortable and he feels safe and instead, quietly, he drifts into sleep.
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2016 7:58 pm
hallelujah
Chris is, for once, caught in sleep for longer than three hours. He's at an outstanding five, which still small, is more than he's gotten in weeks. If he was awake, he'd be thrilled at the prospect.
At the moment, he's just half tucked under the sheets, back to the doorway and face smushed against the pillow. His hair's a hilarious wreck and the cats are on the bed, thankfully near his feet.
He's been getting better lately, sleeping a little more, fearing things less. At the moment he's in a dreamless sleep, breath quiet and even.
It's a picture of peace.
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2016 8:15 pm
hallelujah
Thorne steps out of the shower with a yawn, head tilted downwards beneath a still-warm towel. He rumbles as he dries off, throwing on joggers that taper at his ankles, dapple grey.
Chris isn't the only one that slowly been starting to sleep longer, and Thorne is pleased with it. For once his body doesn't feel like someone has been beating him with a stick for the past few days.
He pauses in the doorway to his room, overwhelmed by the sight of Chris's back to him, the only parts of him visible the blond hair and the tan of his back. Thorne exhales, feels something fond wind in his bones.
He picks a book off of one of the piles and climbs quietly onto the bed, slipping down to a comfortable position next to Chris and ruffling to a bookmarked page.
His hand slides like a ghost against Chris's hair. A touch-point. A grounding contact.
Here, it says to him. Real.
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2016 8:28 pm
hallelujah
In the time Thorne has gotten from the shower and into the bed, Chris has burrowed a little more under the covers, chest bare. He hadn't bothered to put a shirt on when he went to bed but now he's a little cold and it shows.
Chris is still for a moment, still caught in sleep, but then he stirs lightly at Thorne's touch. It's another couple, long minutes, but he rolls over and presses his face against Thorne's thigh.
It's very obvious he's awake, although how awake he actually wants to be is a mystery.
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2016 9:02 pm
hallelujah
Thorne yawns into his book, sleepy and content as he reads, as he lets his hand rest close to Chris's head.
When the other turns and presses his head against Thorne's thigh, Chris winds his fingers through the blonds hair. He runs his hand through the sleep-mussed locks with ease, with gentle, fond movements that are barely conscious.
There's no need for words here, not yet. So Thorne only continues the soft repetition of movement, moving to the next page of the book.
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2016 9:08 pm
hallelujah
The wake up is nice, Chris gently drifting back to something resembling a more awake state as Thorne runs his hand through his hair. It's undoubted that his hair is getting messier by the second - sleep always made his hair look strange and Thorne probably isn't helping it - but it's nice.
He listens to Thorne for awhile, as he pages through the book and continues his motions, half awake. But he's growing cold and reality is unfortunately starting to hit as he wakes up.
"Mmgnf," He grumbles, burrowing closer to Thorne. He's warm and soft and Chris wants nothing more than to stay asleep, near him.
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2016 10:00 pm
hallelujah
"Hello to you too," Thorne hums in return, a half-drawl, half-purr. He threads his hand lower, to the flat plane between Chris's shoulder blades. His palm is warm from the shower, and it flares against the cool skin it touches.
He flips another page, but the words seem far away with Chris burrowing closer to him. Thorne flips it closed with a huff and tosses it to an empty corner of the overstuffed king bed.
"You're cold," he complains, mildly, and slides down so that Chris's head now rests against his chest, his arm sliding around Chris and tugging the other closer as he moves to onto his side and stretches out his legs like a cat.
He wouldn't mind more sleep either. Or just to lay for awhile, not thinking, just breathing in tandem with Chris.
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2016 10:21 pm
hallelujah
"Shhhh, don't talk," Chris mumbles into Thorne's thigh, obviously displeased, still very sleepy. He hums something indistinct but pleased at Thorne's switch, enjoying the warmth from his hand.
It's another long minute, but then he feels Thorne stretch and shift and he smiles into Thorne's thigh.
"'N you're warm," He drawls, but he finds the strength to throw an arm around Thorne's waist, drag his thumb along Thorne's hipbone as he moves in closer. "Pull the covers up more."
He's content to lay there, breathing starting to even out again. It's a nice moment.
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2016 10:44 pm
hallelujah "Mmm," Thorne retorts, dissolving into the sleepy half-language built between them with ease. He rubs a circle against Chris's back, fingers dragging against the soft flesh in warm patterns before he situates himself more easily.
The pleasant warmth of Chris's body against his makes his entire being relax, slipping out of the normal weight of stress that seems to eclipse him most days now.
He gives a soft rumble of sound, like a purr, and slips both of his arms around Chris, the purr only deepening at the thumb grazing his hip bone. He hooks one leg around Chris's own easily, dragging him the rest of the way to him so that they're aligned body to body.
"Demanding," Thorne sighs out with affection, and reaches down, dragging the covers up.
He presses his nose and mouth into Chris's hair and sighs out, thoughts drifting as his breath evens into a steady soft slumber.
Easy, with Chris here. Easy as breathing, for once.
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2016 10:51 pm
hallelujah
Chris settles back down, humming softly at the hand at his back, pleased. Thorne was easy to understand, even when half asleep, but it was better when he changed to Chris' language, when he could.
With Thorne there it was better, finally getting the warmth he craved as he shuffles closer, letingt his legs tangle with Thorne's. He'd probably regret it later but for now he enjoys it, the comfort and security of it.
"That's me," He mumbles, but sighs happily as the covers are pulled up. Now, he's content.
As Thorne's breath evens out, Chris' does as well until finally, they're both asleep.
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2016 11:03 pm
stay stay stay
It's been weird, relearning life after the ball. It's a mix of fear and discomfort, as Chris tries to navigate life and finds something harder to do than it was before. Knows that it shouldn't be this way, but it is anyways.
Some stuff he's figured out - he's fine with leaving the apartment for times longer than an hour now, feels slightly okay in crowds. Has been sleeping a little better.
None of that, however, can prepare Chris for the terror he feels when he wakes up and finds that Thorne isn't anywhere in the warehouse.
Logically, Chris knows that Thorne probably left the apartment. Chris has been doing it lately, even if it was more necessity than actual want, and Thorne was free to leave too. Probably was good for him, really.
Reality, however, has Chris panicking. Thinking that while he was asleep, while he was unaware, Thorne was taken from him again. Melany was still out there and all it took was one day, one moment, and then Thorne would be gone again.
Logically, Chris knows that he should probably calm down. Check his phone.
Reality is, Chris is crouched by the bed and having a panic attack.
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