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 Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 6:00 pm
gardens growing in your mind
Chris is always finding himself in odd situations with Thorne. Maybe it's because Thorne is such peace that he can let himself go, doesn't have to think about manners or what's right or wrong or what will get him the least amount of weird looks and thoughts. It's a nice feeling, to have such a sense of comfort and security that he can do things like that.
Nonetheless, it does become annoying when Chris finds himself under Thorne's weight, hands unable to move because of their latest argument (and don't ask Chris how it started, he sure as hell won't be able to tell you). He wanted to win, damn it, and Thorne was always thwarting his plots.
"Oh shut up," Chris grumbles, pushing at Thorne with his caught hands. He doesn't want to let go of Thorne's hands either, since if he does Thorne will immediately use them to his benefit, but it's becoming hard to manage Thorne on his lap.
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 6:05 pm
gardens growing in your mind
"Oh," Thorne replies, a low drag, his voice a purr, a growl, a rumble. He sways Chris's hands side to side, playing with them idly. He likes this - Chris beneath him, his attention narrowed down to Thorne. He likes Chris in any capacity, really. But this hairpin trigger is doing him no justice, no good, because he's becoming more selfish and hungry.
Want is a powerful thing when left unchecked.
So he slides Chris's hands to his collarbone, straight to his pulse line, and grins a feline grin.
"Make me."
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 6:22 pm
gardens growing in your mind
Chris hums as they sway, wondering what Thorne will do, how he'll get out of his predicament. He's attuned to Thorne easily, his motions, his heat. It's been more obvious lately and he can't say why (or well, he can, but he doesn't want to admit). It's a thought he ponders, a thought that keeps him from paying close attention.
So he doesn't stop Thorne when he starts moving his hands, completely oblivious, until he looks and takes in the scene and-
It's whiplash, its a repeat. He's back at the ball and Corr is looming over him and asking him to do the impossible, a choice between him or a greater hurt and-
"No!" Chris yells, completely terrified. He jerks his hands back, breath coming in short gasps. He won't, he can't, not again. He won't hurt Thorne. "Let go, let go!!" He sobs, trying to curl in on himself. Everything all of a sudden is too much, disorienting. He can hear the soft sound of Corr's mask but yet see the floor of the warehouse, knows he's somewhere else.
"Don't make me again, please," He begs, broken, and tries to breathe.
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 6:33 pm
gardens growing in your mind
It is fine, it is good, it is just like breathing, until it -
Isn't.
Thorne doesn't jerk or jump at the sudden loss of control, at the way Chris doesn't see the room anymore, looking straight past him at something else, tearing his hands back as though Thorne's touch is scalding him.
"Chris," Thorne says, and it comes out terrified. He lets go immediately, knowing better than to further exacerbate the situation for how much it hurts to do so. "Chris!"
He swings off of him and sits next to the other, his hands hovering, shaking, afraid to touch and terrify the other more.
"It's alright," he says, but he doesn't know if it is, doesn't know anything that's going on, only that it's a flashback - it has to be, and - "It's alright, no one's making you do anything."
His voice is forcibly calm. He drags in a breath.
"You're safe," he says gently, his voice aching, his hands useless at his side, "You're here, with me. There's no one else. You're safe, and I won't make you do anything - I promise."
Thorne puts his hand out on the floorboard for Chris to see. There as a lifeline, but not there as something to cage him down. Chris can have it, if he wants it, but Thorne will not impose on him, will not terrify him more. His heart beats a terrified rhythm in his heart. He thinks about all of his nightmares - all of the ones where he cannot save Chris in time.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he pleads gently, "Chris."
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 7:18 pm
gardens growing in your mind
Chris can hear someone calling him but his mind is far off, twisting the words, turning them back into Corr's. Him calling his name, him taunting him. Teacher, teacher. His hands are free at least and he wraps them around his middle, curling in over himself, unable to be taken.
He shakes and he cant breathe and he doesn't know what to do.
It's alright, Thorne says, and it's another moment of him under Corr. Corr acting like Thorne, Corr being Thorne, an echo and the current. Whiplash. He wheezes, terrified. Nothing is real, everything is wrong. He doesn't know whats going on.
Vaguely he can sense someone - Thorne? - nearby and he turns his head, tries to focus on him. It's a strange sensation, feeling. He can see Thorne, he can see the mask Corr wore. It makes him dizzy, or maybe he was beforehand. He can't tell anymore.
Thone's voice is starting to get through to him though, is starting to sound like Thorne and not Corr at all. Reassuring, actually him. Not an illusion, a fake, an image made to hurt him.
He looks at his hand out on the floor and Chris wants to move to take it but he's still afraid that his hand won't be his own. That'll go to Thorne's neck again, do damage, leave those bruises he sometimes swears he can see. The fear does not ever leave him.
"Promise," Chris wheezes, an ultimate question. Corr would never do it but if it's Thorne, he will. If it's Thorne, he'll take his hand.
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 7:33 pm
gardens growing in your mind
"I promise," Thorne says, ragged. He looks at Chris and his entire body is wired to his responses. "You're having a flashback, but it's not real. Not anymore. I know it's hard - I know it feels like it is - but it's not. I swear."
He takes a deep breath and inches closer. There is nothing more he wants to do than wrap his arms around Chris, to hold him until the worst of it is gone. But he can't. Not yet. He's not allowed. He won't allow himself to be someone else's cage.
"Just - just focus on me. The scent of the warehouse. I bought new paints yesterday, remember? They smell awful."
He waits, and then he reaches out and hooks one finger around Chris's. A question and a promise and a prayer. He's here, if Chris needs him. He's here.
"You're safe," he says softly. "You're home."
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 7:51 pm
gardens growing in your mind
Thorne promises and Chris feels something in him loosen slightly, some fear that has taken root disappear. It's not gone entirely but it's a little bit and it's enough to get him to take a deeper breath, to feel a little calmer.
"Yeah," Chris mumbles, sucking in some more air. He was right, they did smell awful, Chris had complained about them for awhile. He remembers that, the silly play fight they had over it. He was at Coalsmoke, it wasn't the ball, it wasn't Other Ashdown.
Chris wraps his hand entirely around Thorne's holding on tightly. Thorne's safe, Thorne's real. He's not Corr, Corr was dead.
"Yeah," He says again, and then quietly adds, "I'm sorry."
He still has some fear and panic around him, but he feels better. He feels a lot better.
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 8:00 pm
gardens growing in your mind
Thorne slides closer, until their knees bump, and he holds Chris's hand where they're wound together, and looses a shaky, slow breath. He raises his other hand and brushes Chris's cheek, tentative and searching.
"No," Thorne says, adamant and soft, "You have nothing to apologize for."
He pauses and rubs his thumb against Chris's cheek. He wants to ask him questions, but he's just not sure how. He rests there with Chris for a long time, his breath low and steady, forced to be calm because it is in him, this animal urge, so heavy and hungry to protect that it nearly crushes him.
But he knows that he cannot be the one to save Chris from his own mind. Only help, in any way he can.
"Did I do something?" he asks softly, after a long while, looking up at Chris.
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 8:41 pm
gardens growing in your mind
Chris is grateful for the contact, even if he's not entirely able to say so. Thorne's knees, his touch on his face, they're all reminders of where he is. Reality, Coalsmoke, home.
Chris only closes his eyes, listens to Thorne's breathing. Tries to match him until his own isn't the panicked, shuddery staccato he has going on. Until he feels like he knows where he is, until he knows what's going on. No longer trapped in the past, in his own mind.
"No," Chris says, horrified. "It wasn't you it was-" He breaks, doesn't know what to do. This is something he never wanted to admit to Thorne, wanted to keep buried and pretend it never happened. But it had happened and Thorne had a right to know, honesty between them and all.
"It was Corr. When I went to bargain with him we played a game - truth or dare. I knew I was playing a dangerous game, but I didn't know how dangerous. Not until he was over me and dared me to touch him, to hurt him. He asked me in your voice."
Chris closes his eyes, takes a shaky breath, opens them again. Focuses on Thorne, on the now.
"I refused to, of course, but it wasn't something I could really say no to. He pushed me down and we ended up on the floor-" His breathing is picking up now, but he refuses to stop. If he stops he will never be able to again and he wants Thorne to know. "and he took my hands. He took my hands and he put them around your throat and he made me choose - you or him. On who I'd hurt, on who would be hurt worse. It was one or the other."
Chris shifts his gaze down, trying to avoid Thorne's expression. He's scared of what he'll think, even now. His free hand flexes. "I strangled him. I strangled him and it looked like you and he acted like you and I strangled you. I hurt you and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 9:07 pm
gardens growing in your mind
Thorne listens, breath held, as Chris speaks. His heart plummets, his chest aches, and he cannot think for a moment, blinded by angry and grief and something darker - something dangerous. He thinks of Corr in the alcove, Corr pressing his mask to his face.
Corr threatening Chris.
I'll kill him in front of you, he had said. But he had already done so many terrible things.
He waits until it is over, until Chris is done speaking, his eyes lowered, and his heart splinters in a thousand different ways.
"Chris," he says, "Chris. Look at me."
He thumbs another gentle pattern against the blonds cheek, the plea gentle but without pressure. He wonders what to say, how to say it, how to say that he would have put an end to Corr all over again if he could, for the things he has caused. For the wreckage he has left, buried beneath Chris's skin.
"This was never your fault," Thorne breathes out, and wonders what it must have been like for Chris to go through with that. His chest feels like it is on fire. Everything in him burns. "This was not your fault - and I am sorry I was not there to stop it in time. This is nothing that you have to apologize for."
He wraps his arm around Chris, pulls him forward and for once he is the one tucking Chris beneath his chin, holding the other to him as though he can sing and chase away these ghosts.
"You've never hurt me," Thorne adds, quiet, "And even if you had, I forgive you. I forgive you for everything."
He pulls away and looks down at the blond. He raised their intertwined hands, refolds them so that he has Chris's fingers gently between his. And then with the softest care, he places Chris's hand to his own cheek, so that they mirror one another. So that they can both feel it, the heat of connection. The rush of familiarity. He hopes he can reach Chris. He hopes and prays to a God that no longer answers him.
"These hands have never hurt me," Thorne says softly, "And I trust you. I trust you more than I can say out loud."
He sucks in a sharp breath and pushes them closer together, foreheads touching, bodies close enough that the heat chases away the chill.
"If you are searching for forgiveness, I'll give it to you. I always will. But he's not here, he will never come back, and you did everything that you had to." He traces Chris's expression with his eyes, wants to kiss away the nightmares, all of that lingering pain.
"And I can never thank you enough for it," he breathes, "And I can never take away those demons inside of you, but the least I can do is try and keep them at bay."
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 10:47 pm
gardens growing in your mind
Chris doesn't want to look up, he doesn't want to meet Thorne's gaze. What he'll see there, he doesn't know, but he fears the worst. He doesn't regret telling him this but he doesn't know what he'll get in reply and that is what he is afraid of.
Slowly though he raises his gaze, meets Thorne's eyes. What he sees there isn't horror, or hate, or fear. What he sees is acceptance and protectiveness and so many other things that Chris' breath catches in his throat, makes him unable to speak.
"It's not your fault either, you didn't know, you couldn't have," Chris says, a whisper. He won't have Thorne trying to take this on as his burden, trying to make it his fault. He intentionally hid it away from Thorne, from Alg, from Jeremiah so they wouldn't know, didn't have to know. It was his own fault he'd let it affect him so deeply.
When Thorne brings him closer Chris can't help but wrap his own arms around Thorne loosely, let his head rest on the divot between neck and shoulder. It's a quiet comfort and he feels better, just marginally, being there.
"But," He says quietly, words lost as he watches Thorne work with his hand. Watches him take his hand and place it on his own cheek, mirrored to the one on his own. His hand shakes, trembles, still reminding him of the aftermath of what he's seen and done. But it isn't hurting Thorne and Thorne isn't hurting him, and it's good. It's real.
"I trust you too," Chris finally says, finding his voice. "I trust you."
Something in him still wants to refute Thorne, something in him wants to argue. He could have done more, he could have refused Corr harder, he could've fought. But it's doing a disservice to Thorne, to everything he is doing, and more than anything Chris is tired. He wants to lay his ghosts to rest.
So he lets himself find warmth in Thorne and listens to Thorne listens to someone who believes in him.
"Thank you too," He says back softly, "You do enough just- just by being here. I'm so glad you're here."
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 10:59 pm
gardens growing in your mind
Thorne wraps around Chris, and the want inside of him, the animal urge to protect, is so heavy he thinks he could drown if he doesn't hold on. He is starved for the contact, a wildfire needing more, more, more. He touches him and knows he's real, and wishes desperately to chase the demons inside of him away.
"I know," Thorne says softly, breathlessly, his voice a husk of sound, "I know. But that doesn't stop me wanting. That doesn't stop me wishing I could have reached you."
With one of his hands, he rubs a gentle pattern against Chris's back. A slow soft message in another language.
"They don't get to win this," Thorne says quietly. "All of our ghosts, all of the things those people left behind - I won't let them win."
He feels tired, exhausted. All he wants to do is hold Chris and forget the rest of the world. Forget that there are still things out there they need to fight, need to figure out, need to lay to rest so that they can be at peace, be truly at home. And in that bright future, that world they chase so ruthlessly, maybe Thorne can finally say those secrets in his chest out loud.
"I'll always be here," Thorne admits softly, "And when you go, I'll always wait. I promise. I promise."
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 11:12 pm
and july
Chris doesn't really get sick.
This isn't to say, he doesn't get sick at all. He was prone to head colds and chest colds and whatever else like everyone else in the world. College was full of sick people, High School was slightly worse, and god forbid the lower grades. So to say he didn't get sick at all would be a flat out lie, since he's picked up plenty from his job and his place of learning.
He's just good at shaking it off is all. Treats it aggressively with tea and medicine, goes on his way with a medical mask, and in a few days or a week it's gone. His professors and older colleagues chalk it up to his young age, his classmates and same age colleagues figure it's some satanic deal that Chris has made, another line on the contract that also keeps him looking decent in the morning and still with good grades. His students don't really notice or care. Chris just figures its luck.
But his luck was always bound to run out and it came in the form of a slightly chillier than usual onset of Autumn, his new place of residence with no heating, and a weird habit of sleeping with less clothing than usual. No matter how warm Thorne and their pile of blankets were, Chris was still suspectable to cold and ended up getting rather sick.
He would know, considering how he tried to walk it off for a few days before finally admitting he was getting worse, not better, and then banishing himself to the bedroom.
He lay curled up on the bed there now, grumpy, restless, and feeling just in general gross. He should have gotten up and gotten something to eat, or something to drink, or even medication but he didn't want to move. Everything was hot and cold, nausea inducing, and he was frankly just exhausted. He hoped Thorne wasn't around, so he couldn't catch this. He wouldn't wish it on anyone.
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 11:23 pm
and july
Unfortunately for Chris, Thorne was around.
And Thorne, though oddly selective on what he paid attention to, had noticed the cold. Most people (Not Thorne) would avoid it like the plague. He'd done his time in high school and college, getting sick because of roommates or unsanitary idiots running around his classroom. He'd come down with the flu once and had sworn off his entire dorm for it freshmen year even. The fact was that Thorne had done his time.
He'd done his time and he should have let Chris be sick and sad because they weren't dating and he wasn't the considerate (and fatal ending inducing) boyfriend. But he couldn't.
The fact was that he couldn't.
So the crockpot was dragged out and the grocery run was fast and pleasant (he'd managed to appear enough times to woo the grocery clerks into friendly remarks every time he came in) and now the scent of soup and cooking permeated the entire warehouse.
In the meantime, Thorne brewed tea, selected the best of his collection for curing (or calming) colds, and found the medicine cabinet that he'd been neglecting to refill.
Exhaling once most of the busy work was done, Thorne entered the bedroom. The dead zone. The place of no return.
"Chris," he said softly, and stepped up onto the bed, walking across the mattress and folding down onto his knees in front of the other. He reached out and pulled the covers just enough to see the blonds face and presented him with a glass of water and two small pills after running his knuckles over Chris's forehead to make sure there wasn't a fever he had to account for too.
"Think you can handle this?" He asked, "There's soup too, if you want some - and no. You're not getting out of bed for it, I am. I've also got tea if that's the better option. I can't believe you got sick. How long have you been hiding this?"
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Posted: Mon Sep 26, 2016 11:34 pm
and july
Chris could slowly smell something like cooking filling the warehouse, the scent something he couldn't really place (mostly due to the fact his nose was off from the whole being sick thing) and he wondered if Thorne was going to sleep on the couch. He actively sort of hoped, for his own sake. If he was going to still be in the warehouse, then at least he should've stayed away from Chris.
Apparently, Chris was hoping for too much.
He grumbled as Thorne pulled the covers away, blinking up at him fuzzily. The hand on his forehead was nice, cool, and he wanted it to stay (and he probably should have registered that was a sign of a fever, but whatever, he was miserable).
"Why are you here?" He mumbled, still managing to upright himself enough to take the pills with the water. He drained the glass of water quickly after the pills, rolling it in his hands when it was empty. "You'll get sick if you stick around. Go somewhere else in the warehouse."
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