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 Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2016 11:10 pm
stay stay stay
Thorne stands outside of Coalsmoke, breathing in the stark air of a chilled morning and feeling the threat of rain tremble across his skin. He had come here to water plants, but he'd been caught up in the view of the clouded sky, shards of blue scattered through endless grey.
He feels small for the first time in a very long time, disconnected from his body. He tries to keep the feeling until the moment snaps and the first drop of rain comes crashing down.
When he comes back inside, he calls Chris's name. It's reflex, habit. But there's not answer, and Thorne feels a trembling fear run through him, like a needle from an unexpected source.
"Chris," he says again, stepping into the bedroom. His eyes don't find him right away, but when they do, Thorne is running, his heart a bullet lodged up against his throat.
"Chris!" His knees hit the floor. He reaches out, shirks. Should he touch Chris? He doesn't want to make it worse. "What happened? Chris, hey, I'm here. Talk to me. Please."
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 8:52 am
stay stay stay
For a second, hearing Thorne call his name is comforting, a confirmation he isn't gone. The comfort disappears when he remembers the other Thorne, the one who took his life.
This could be another one.
He enters the bedroom and Chris only barely can register him, trying to wheeze out another breath. Can only tremble and grasp the sheet of the bed, trying to give himself leverage. He'd shirk away if he could move, could do anything but stare at him with suspicion.
He gasps out a breath, manages to wheeze, "Real? Or another fake?" Tries to figure out if he's being irrational or has reasonable suspicion. Tries to just breathe, but the fear is still clawing at his throat and until Thorne answers he won't know and Chris is terrified.
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 11:34 am
stay stay stay
Thorne looks at Chris, his chest aching, his mind trying desperately not to spin out of control. He has to stay calm, has to help. Out, not in. He is not within himself. He looks at Chris and exhales sharply, forces his body still.
"Real," he says softly, "I'm real. I met you at 3AM in a shitty apartment with my shitty cat, and you ate so many cupcakes it was phenomenal."
He pauses, lays his hand on the floor between him and Chris. A half-way point. If you trust me, he thought, I will always be here for you. And even when you don't, I'll stay, I'll stay.
"We danced," he says, "remember? That wasn't Corr. That was me. We danced, and you told me I was your home. And you were mine. That was real. And this is real too."
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 11:43 am
stay stay stay
Real, Thorne says, and Chris wants to demand proof but it seems he's already one step ahead of Chris, giving him details that only he could know. About their first meeting, about the dance they had.
About home.
He unfists one hand, snakes it across the floor until it's touching Thorne's. Confirms it's real and then grasps it, tries to take another breath. Breathing is slightly easier, but still not the same, and Chris doesn't feel like he's getting enough air.
"You were gone," He gasps, knowing he needs to calm down, slow himself down. But it's different being in a panic attack versus calming someone down from one and Chris is still paralyzed in the residual fear.
Almost, almost, an almost.
He looks and Thorne and his gaze is fearful, genuinely terrified. "I can't-" He says, and he doesn't know exactly what he means. Breathe, think, both apply and so many more. All he knows is he just wants Thorne to stay.
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 4:02 pm
stay stay stay
Thorne hums softly, a melody that burrows deep in his throat. It's an old lullaby that his mother brought across seas, fractured and soft. But it lulls, a sweet-soft sound, as he moves closer.
His fingers tangle with Chris's when he's allowed.
"Just breathe in time with me," he says, remembering how he'd done this with Chris back in the alcove, back in that place. He arranges himself and takes their tangled hands, pressing Chris's palm to his face, to his fluttering pulse, his slow, soft breaths pulling from him with effort.
Because a part of him is afraid too.
But he won't let them lose. Not to something like this. It's not alright. But it will be. It has to be.
"It's alright," Thorne says again, and lifts his other hand. He wraps it around Chris, rubbing soft patterns into his back. "When you're ready," he says, because it's alright here and now for them to just breathe together, to stay here together.
It's alright.
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 5:45 pm
stay stay stay
Chris focuses vaguely on the melody, lets it soothe as Thorne moves closer. He's willing to inch a little closer to Thorne himself, let his presence be grounding.
He gives a jerky nod to Thorne at his instructions, but his breath is still too fast. He can't seem to find the moment to calm down yet, even though he can feel Thorne's pulse, hear him breathe.
It takes him another minute, Thorne's hand on his back, before Chris is finally able to match Thorne's breathing. Before he's able to try and stitch himself back together, shove the panic down and return to himself.
When he feels like he isn't about to die he relaxes his grip on the sheets, takes a shuddery breath. Looks at Thorne and gives him a shaky smile. He wants to apologize almost - apologize for all of this. For freaking out over something minor.
But he's said sorry so much already and he doesn't want to add to it, doesn't want to bring his already surmounting guilt into this. So, rather quietly, he says, "Thank you."
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 6:36 pm
lost boys
Somehow, they end up at a coffee shop in the grey drizzle of dusk. September is an ugly time here in Ashdown, nothing but temperatures constantly in flux and rain that cuts through the dim orange haze of sunset. Thorne is unstrung by this chain of events, but he knows that it's good - it's better than clamming himself up in Coalsmoke and never seeing the light of day unless he's out when no one else is.
So he smiles at the barista and orders something with an absurd amount of sugar in it, easily stealing payment for both of them. Now he lounges in one of the plush chairs near a fireplace, one of the stereotypical accompaniments to many coffeehouses now.
He is content to stay here with Chris in the quiet emptiness, waiting on their drinks to come to the counter. But then he looks up, and his heart jack-rabbits in his chest. A woman moves through the spaces behind them, but her reflection bounces off of the windows. She is gorgeous, black hair, sharp eyes -
Melany. It's Melany - no it's -
Thorne doesn't know who it is.
But he is paralyzed, his breath sharpening. He knows this is a coffee house, some part of him is wired not to respond the way he would anywhere else. But everything in him feels electric, struck down.
Move, move, move, a desperately angry voice in his head chants. Stop being weak. Enough, enough.
But he can't.
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 7:20 pm
lost boys
Chris is slightly surprised that him and Thorne are out for coffee, but it's not an unwelcome development. September may be an uncomfortable month as it tries to figure out what it exactly wants to be, but he's happy to be out of Coalsmoke with Thorne. Happy that they're even out of the apartment, not that it's a bad place, hell he's half moved in at this point (and he's going to regret it when he goes back to his empty apartment) but being able to go out for once is... it's nice. Getting comfortable with being human again.
So he lets himself indulge in a pumpkin spice latte and swats at Thorne as he steals the payment, actually irritated because it was his turn to pay, thank you and just... enjoys the moment.
"I'm going to get the drinks," He says, getting up. He thinks they're next, as he saw the guy who got their drinks before them pick his up and he only gives Thorne a warning of a glare to stay put. Thorne may have paid, but Chris was going to pick it up.
It only took him a minute to wait for their drinks. Another minute for them to come out, for him to grab them, and for him to turn and see Thorne looking - looking afraid.
It takes Chris more self-control than he thinks he posses to not run over to their sitting spot, to drop the drinks and sprint. But they're in public and he doesn't want to cause a scene if they need to get away and so he very quickly walks over and puts the drinks down on the nearest table to them.
Sits beside Thorne and says, "Thorne. Thorne, look at me. What happened?"
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 7:43 pm
lost boys
Thorne doesn't speak immediately. His heart is still racing, spiking up against his throat. But beneath the fear burns something else. It is like running a marathon against his fear, and he is nearly to the finish line. These snares drag him back, but he is almost there - almost to another race.
A race with what though?
Something dark buds in the hollow crevices between his rib cage. It tastes like anger, like spite and hunger and he supposes fear is good breeder for those qualities, but the ash in his throat says otherwise. Still, his hand trembles, and he only hears his name when his head stops pounding, body hot and unbearably cold at the same time.
Be afraid, said one part of him. Be angry, said another part.
Thorne took a shrill, sharp breath. They were in public. He was not going to cause a commotion.
His eyes flared to Chris, bright beacons of fear and hunger and something unknowable. He was acquainting himself with this paralysis. He didn't want it anymore. He was tired.
"I saw her," he said, his voice like a rushing breath. "I see her everywhere. And I can't move. It's - "
He watched the steam curl up from their drinks, the passing shadows in the windows. Everything was absurdly normal, but his heart was angry in atrophy.
He looked at Chris.
"I'm tired. Of her. Of being afraid." His voice low and rolling, something that could not be overheard. "I don't want to be anymore, but I don't know how."
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 8:28 pm
lost boys
Chris is patient, enough to sit there and wait by Thorne for him to speak. He knows what it's like, to not be able to find the words. To just have silence and nothing else except emotion, which is hard to convey on its own.
He'll wait for years if he has to, because he trusts Thorne. Because he cares.
So he sits patiently and after a moment, offers his hand to Thorne quietly. Places it on top of Thorne's gently, lightly, so Thorne can pull away if he wants. But enough that he can feel that Chris is there.
"Oh," Chris says quietly and he feels something in him go cold and protective all at once. A quiet anger, a fierce protectiveness. He wants to wipe that fear out of Thorne's eyes, he wants to give him the freedom that he had long before this, wants to give him everything from before and more. He wants to make sure Thorne doesn't have to worry about her ever again, that she was nothing more than dust and death and only something that lived in the edges of memory.
Instead he can only sit here in his quiet anger.
He wants to offer Thorne words of comfort - he wants to say that it was nothing, that it wasn't her, that it will be alright. But the truth is she's still out there, she could come at any moment and that Chris is afraid too. And Chris won't lie to Thorne.
"I'm afraid of her too," Chris admits, "I'm tired too. And there's nothing I can say to make this better but... Thorne. Thorne as long as I can, I will make sure that she will never, in your life, touch you again. I don't know if that helps. But.. but I mean it."
His voice is low as well, rough with emotion and worry. He doesn't know if it helps, feels like the words are too little. Not enough, never enough. But he means it, with every fiber of his being.
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 9:22 pm
lost boys
Thorne exhales, a sharp, deliberate sound. It is to make himself remember that he is here, that he exists and so does Chris. Not a dream, a part of him hisses, not a dream. It remembers nights in solitude, nights waiting.
He looks up at Chris, pulls his hand into his own, fingers lacing tightly against Chris's. Their drinks still steam. The night pulls on. How ordinary, how mundane. He can hear chatter of women exiting, the door ringing softly in their wake. Cars starting, lights flashing. He'd felt comfortable here, once. Now he finds that comfort in the press of Chris's pulse fluttering against his own.
But he tastes the change in his mouth.
He's not the same person he'd been in the months before Melany. That person had bled out on the marble floor alongside Corr. Maybe this was what the trials had actually been to prove.
Even if he succeeded, he still became someone else.
"No," Thorne says. "You don't have to. To say anything. You make me better." There is a raw intensity that surges through his words. He is stripped and bare. He cannot think of a way to hide the sharp lash of his thoughts anymore. It has been a struggle he's been searching for an end to ever since he'd picked himself up from the cold ground of that floor.
He looks up at Chris and smiles, but an edge tugs at it.
"I'm not afraid of her for what she can do to me," he says, quietly, "she bled that out of me long ago. But I watched her beat and hurt the people I cared about for every mistake I made. And that's what I'm afraid of. Not what she can do to me, but what she could do to you."
He blinks and looks at Chris. His eyes are quiet with the aftermath of fear, trembling with something else.
"I want to learn not to be afraid," he breathes like a confession, "I want to learn how to protect the people I care about from her."
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 10:10 pm
lost boys
He squeezes Thorne's hand, the sharp contact a relief for Chris. It doesn't alleviate his anger, not much, but it makes him feel slightly better. Grounding, like the contact with Thorne always is. Hot against him and reminding him this is real, this is what is going on.
He looks at Thorne for a moment then casts his gaze around the shop. The normalcy of it all, how things are still going on, how it's not just them in a world of their own. Ordinary. Strange.
He turns his gaze back to their hands, rubs his thumb against Thorne's knuckle. Takes a breath and tries to cool his anger.
"I'm glad I do," He says quietly, softly. In wonder, in the idea that he can make such a difference and matter so much. But it's a truth, he can hear it in Thorne's voice, knows what he means it. Wonders if Thorne knows the same thing, but he knows that this is not the time to admit it. Not yet.
He gives Thorne a smile of his own, but it isn't bright itself.
He knows the horrors she did but it doesn't make Chris want to flinch any less when Thorne talks about it, when he thinks about what happened. What he didn't prevent, what could happen again. Thorne may not have been afraid but Chris, oh god Chris was and he carried it with him. It may have abated slightly, but it was still there.
"I do too," He says softly, but when he looks at Thorne there's something there that doesn't look like fear but instead hope. "But I think we're doing our best right now. We're learning."
Chris takes a moment, takes a breath, and then says, "You already protect me, you know? You.. you make it better."
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 10:28 pm
lost boys
Thorne hums, a soft sweet sound, and slowly comes back into himself. It is Chris's hand. The smell of his latte, the sugary absurdity of what he'd ordered. It's this: Chris's warmth and his smile and everything that grounds Thorne to this place. He's selfish, oh, he knows he is, but that doesn't make it any less of a reality that Thorne savors what he is given. That he will always want more.
"You sound surprised," Thorne remarks, but it is fond and sweeping, pleased and low. The fear retreats to the corner of his eyes. Present but - only just. She is not here. She is not here. She is not here. But Chris is. And that matters. "But it's the truth. I promise it's the truth."
He tilts his head, squeezing Chris's hand gently, a reminding force.
"Together, I suppose," Thorne responds, soft and amused. But there's a flutter of truth there, a fond hum of hope. He lifts their intertwined hands and huffs a laugh against Chris's knuckles, not quite a kiss.
"Thank you," he says softly against them, the long edges of his bangs brushing against the skin. "You've saved me more than you know. And for that - thank you."
He looks up at Chris, lowers their hands and yes, he is still scared, yes, the world is still turning and he is not sure where it is meant to go.
"As do you," Thorne says, and smiles. "As do you."
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 11:29 pm
lost boys
Thorne's hum is a delicate sound, sweet, and Chris blinks at it, the shop starting to come back into focus. A reminder that it wasn't just them. It was hard to remember, even when he had looked at the shop a moment before. Thorne had a way of just taking the space in a room.
"I am," Chris admits, a little sheepish in tone. "I'm not doubting it's the truth it's just not something that's ever been said to me, really. I help by doing something, usually. Not just being there." Chris casts his eyes to the floor, slightly embarrassed at what he's admitting.
Thorne's gentle squeeze brings him back.
"Together," He repeats and he can't help the bright smile that overcomes his face at Thorne lifting the hands. The fondness and familiarity in the gesture.
He only rests his head on Thorne's shoulder in reply, unsure what to say but happy. Happy he's helped Thorne, happy he's done something in return. He doesn't deserve the thanks, he'd do the same without it, but it does feel nice and he doesn't want to fight it. Not right now.
But for now, he will allow, a very quietly whispered, "You're welcome." And then after a moment, nudges Thorne and tries to hand him his drink.
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 11:46 pm
things you said too quietly: i need you
When the warehouse is not enough to chase away the demons, the highway is. Thorne takes Chris out one night when the stars are scattered between a dark sea of clouds, and the air stings with the residue of a storm. The petrichor of the sleeping world bled in through the car windows. It was cold but Thorne's body burned and burned and burned.
The car he takes is a sleek hungry beast bought on Corr's time and effort, because Thorne certainly doesn't know the purr of the engine intimately, nor the aftermath in the backseat of bar scenes and nowhere dives, the scent of smoke and tattoo ink washed out in the leather.
He only knows this: his body. Chris's breath. The road ahead of them, the headlights cutting shards of glass light into the still world beyond. The beautiful thing about Ashdown is this: around it, the world fades away into nothing. Into banking pine forests and mist and mountains. Land that goes nowhere, goes everywhere at once.
Thorne doesn't know where they are meant to go.
He only knows this: his hand on the steering wheel, his hand on the gearshift, tightly wound. His heart reminding him that he is alive. The radio is dead and the air is silent. The car engine does not roar.
He only knows this: they are alone in the world.
Can ghosts chase them all the way out here?
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