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 Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 2:41 pm
He both did and didn't want to stay.
He wanted to stay because this was Stormy, this was the girl that he had fallen in love with and who he cared for more than anyone else in the world. The girl who held his hand and sang him silly Disney songs and made him tea and brought him stuffed animals and movies and who smelled of vanilla and cinnamon and whole variety of other things he couldn't name off the top of his head. This was Stormy, in agony, and he wanted desperately to be able to help her through it, to let her know that in spite of Nevada's horrible and tragic death, that she could still live.
But he also wanted to leave, because he wasn't sure how much more his heart could take, how much pain he had to endure for her to lower those walls she'd built around herself, whether to protect him or to protect herself, he didn't know. Probably a mixture of both. It was both mentally and physically draining to keep doing the same thing every day, every time he was with her; and it became especially hard once he had realized that he could try all he wanted, but she wouldn't do anything she didn't want to.
His efforts so far had been in vain, all evidence pointing to nothing working.
Facts facts facts. Stick to the facts.
(That's what he kept telling himself anyway.)
Stormy's fingers were trembling violently as she pulled his hand away from her face, and for a moment Gale thought she didn't want the contact, like she had before; but then she bent over, her grip like iron, and a fresh wave of sobs made her thin shoulders shake.
His heart ached. He felt raw, numb.
"Stormy," he said quietly. "Stormy. Look at me."
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Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 3:01 pm
She stayed prostrated a little longer, her words melting into unintelligible noises as she prayed and scraped and prayed some more that it wasn't the end, that she hadn't pushed him away so far that he didn't see any point in coming back. People did crazy things when they were suffering, just as much as when they were angry or were in love; it was hard to see past that veil. It was no excuse, but it was what had fueled her logical fallacies, a broken wheel that kept trying to find a way forward.
And then he asked her to look at him, and she obeyed. Wiping her face on her sleeve repeatedly, Stormy sniffled and eventually raised herself off the ground long enough to manage a kneeling position. She still kept ahold of Gale's hand between hers, some of her fingers damp from fallen tears, and continued to cradle it gently. Her shoulders were hunched a little defensively as if expecting the worst, even as a little part of her kept praying and praying.
Eventually she looked at Gale, her eyes still somewhat glassy but not utterly tearful. Whatever walls had been there were gone, leaving only raw emotion across the spectrum trying to transfer with one steady look, one shaky touch. I love you. She hiccuped and sniffled but said nothing, anxiety silencing her.
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Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 4:48 pm
He waited for her to lift her head up again, patiently, though also a little impatiently, his fingers going slightly numb under the pressure of Stormy's grip. He wondered if she would do it; if she'd be able to look at him and read what was in his eyes, and if he would see what he hoped to see in them; or if there would just be that dull ache in them, all the life gone out of them.
Like she was looking straight through him.
He wasn't sure his heart could take that.
But then slowly, slowly, Stormy began to move, bending her body back up, and Gale's chest tightened, pressing his lips together. His own tears had stopped (thankfully), but his vision was still a little damp, and the tears had left visible streaks down his face, which felt wet. With a heart-pounding anticipation, his eyes met hers.
There was something in them - life, emotion, feelings, something more than just the flat, expressionless face he had expected and braced himself to see. Gale sucked in a sharp breath, and relief shone on his face, raw and bright, and his eyes were welling again; he blinked rapidly to try and dispel some of the tears.
"There you are," he said softly. "I knew you'd come back."
He wasn't sure it was for long; he was definitely sure whatever happened next would be a long road to recovery, and he knew the moment would most likely be fleeting, Stormy retreating into her shell once more once the spell was broken, once they left the music room and went back into reality.
But at least, for a split second, he could see Stormy again.
Gale lifted his free hand up and cradled her face tenderly.
"I love you," he said. "I'll wait for you."
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Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 5:49 pm
One look, and she could breathe again, sputtering for air. One blink, and the tears started rolling down her face anew, warming old trails. Her body still shook with the occasional sob, but for the most part Stormy's weeping was growing more quiet; the violent stage had, at least for now, passed. Her body couldn't much more anyway.
The room was still spinning and she still felt light-headed, but now neither seemed quite as bad.
She studied his expression, took in the relief and love evident there, and then did her best to reflect it through her own worn face. Stormy didn't smile, but something in her face lit up nevertheless. She could pull herself through this if someone waited; she'd pull through if she wasn't alone, a prospect so chilling and had come so close to being true that even thinking about it gave her cold shivers still.
"Always will," she croaked quietly. "Even i-if it...takes a while." More words tried to spill out, but her voice kept cracking and slurred them together, her tongue a weight and her lips sagging. Instead, she lifted Gale's captive hand and pressed a watery, light kiss to his knuckles, her fingers naturally moving to trace symbols into his palm as before as she tried to collect her fragmented thoughts together.
Stormy made a soft noise at length and attempted to wipe her face against her shoulder, turning briefly away from the hand on her cheek but quick to come back. "'Ve gone mad," she mumbled, gently pressing his hand to her skin further. "Completely, utterly mad. N' I almost..." She shut her eyes tight as her voice broke again, her expression growing stricken--then softened after a moment and opened her eyes to give Gale a slightly clearer, more apologetic look.
I love you. She couldn't speak as it were, not without her voice failing her or her throat constricting or a sob stealing the air. But she could think it repeatedly enough that the words might as well have been atoms in her body or the oxygen suffused through her lungs and veins. I love you. A thought that had been shackled for the longest time, now running rampant and free through her mind. Maybe it was obvious enough now that she wasn't bothering to hold back at the moment.
I love you, Gale.
She started taking longer, deeper breaths to calm herself back down. In...and out. In...and out. In...and out. Then she gave one of his hands the slightest of tugs up, indicating she felt ready to get off the floor and leave.
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Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 7:31 pm
He thought his heart might break at her expression, but not in the way that would mean pain (though that was always a part of it, it seemed), but in the way that he found it difficult to breathe because if he did he might break the spell, that he might somehow snap this connection between them. It was the first time in almost a month - over a month that she had looked at him, really looked at him.
It was almost overwhelming. He felt slightly lightheaded.
Stormy's voice was hoarse, but she was talking to him; and it was not in the stiff, robotic way that she had before, like she was talking to a superior. A part of him wished it hadn't gotten this far, that walking away like he had, wanting to get away because it was too much, had been childish and immature - but at the very least, she was talking to him.
He didn't want to mess things up again.
His hand caressed the side of her face gently, his thumb sweeping away a few tears, though her skin was still slightly damp, warm to the touch from her flushed face. "You haven't gone mad," said Gale softly. "You just lost your way for a little bit."
His expression softened. "And you haven't lost me."
Leaning forward, Gale gently and lightly pressed a very delicate kiss to Stormy's forehead, moving back to give her space a second later. He felt the tug on his hand and reluctantly drew it away from her face, if only to wrap both around hers and then slowly he stood, pulling her with him.
His legs felt shakey. He let go of one hand but kept ahold of the other, gentle and loose in case she wanted to pull away, in case the contact became too much.
"Do you...want to come home now?" he asked her quietly, and his cheeks were still damp, but he hadn't bothered to wipe them yet.
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Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 8:08 pm
Maybe she hadn't lost everything, no, but she almost had, almost. And while she had stepped back from the abyss for now, it had still been a long fall and a hard landing getting there. She had to feed off of Gale's patience, or what remained of it, in order to survive.
"We're all mad in here," she mumbled.
Her eyes fell closed as he kissed her brow, and like something familiar remembered again it gave her another boost of comfor. It was the first time in over a month she had been kissed in any capacity, and Stormy hadn't realized how starved she was for contact until that moment. Her hands clutched at his weakly as he helped her up, reluctant to lose one once they were on their feet but deciding little by little was better anyway. She wavered as the room continued to spin, a dull pain throbbing in her head; it had been growing since she had collapsed, was overshadowed by the breakdown, but had never truly gone away.
Deep breaths. In . . . and out.
Carefully Stormy bent down and grabbed her tear-stained beanie, slipping it back on as hints of shame appeared in her expression. She was not proud of her new look: it was a daily reminder of her utter failure, of how it would only take a few steps in the wrong direction or the wrong trigger word to make her fall again. Hiding it under a hat wouldn't make that go away, but it was another layer buffering her from the outside world--and Stormy loved piling on layers.
Once she steadied again, she turned to Gale and nodded, threading their fingers for a more secure grip. Then, hesitating, she gently brushed some of his own tear stains away with her free hand until she was sure they were dry, or mostly dry. And then, finally, Stormy looked over her shoulder at the piano, softening.
"We'll come find you again. Sleep well."
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Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 11:07 pm
"Maybe we are," said Gale. "Maybe you're mad and I'm mad and if that's the case, then we can just be mad together, you and I. We'll create an entire universe of just being mad, and it'll be grand and beautiful and wild and crazy and just the two of us."
He smiled at her to show that he was gently teasing, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. It was still a work in progress, he knew; and a long road ahead, but maybe this meant they could actually start taking that road. Maybe it meant they could move forward towards the right place.
Maybe it wouldn't work, but at least he could try.
At least they could try.
He let her say goodbye to the piano, and then, his hand gentle around hers, Gale led Stormy back out of the schoolhouse and down the road towards the little yellow house at the bottom. He kept up a reasonable pace, not too fast or too slow, and by the time they reached the house, it was late afternoon, the sun obscured by fog and clouds.
Gale pushed open the door to his house, stepped inside, and shut it again once Stormy was in. Then he turned to look at her, his expression carefully calm.
"What would you like to do now?"
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Posted: Fri May 09, 2014 11:50 pm
His response was unexpected. When she turned her head, Gale was given a contemplative, even quietly awed look, as if she were actually considering his words. What a bizarre day it was when the serious one was teasing and the whimsical one was taking it literally. Even as they walked along, Stormy threw him occasional curious glances still, as if there was something new about him she was trying to examine--trying not to immediately touch even though she was quite comfortable enough holding his hand on the way back. Sniffles punctured the silence as she reeled herself back in.
By the time they reached the house, she found herself at the same impasse she often did: an exhausted body but an active mind. Sleep should have been her first choice, as even though she had stayed in bed several hours more than usual, her sleep had been full of unease and disturbances. But only one thing more bested them.
Almost at the same time Gale asked her what she wanted to do, she was moving forward. "Things. Water, please," she murmured in response, several thoughts flashing through her mind. Her hand remained entangled with his for the first few steps, but she was so single-minded that her grip eventually slipped as she moved. The lingering reluctance to lose that sensation, rather than an immediate break like her antsy behavior before, was as much of a good sign as any. Her head could only focus on one large threat at a time.
Embarrassingly, Stormy stumbled on the steps and caught herself with the wooden rails before she could outright fall. But she continued on up nevertheless, undaunted and barely feeling the pangs going through her legs and knees as she diverted to her room. There she pulled open a drawer, yanked out a pen and journal, turned, swooped down on the sandwich Gale had made her, nested atop her bed, tore off a small piece, and began her squirrel nibble on it with the journal in her lap to catch crumbs. Food still tasted odd, but she knew if she didn't put something in her stomach soon, she'd faint. That was the only reason at all that could compel her at the moment.
She was expecting him to follow soon after despite forgetting to say even a word to him as to why, as the journal was opened soon after she had finished the first piece, a question scrawled in it ready and open for viewing if he came in.
What is madness to you?
If for whatever reason Gale took his time, a text would be sent with the same question. She wanted a silent conversation either way, not trusting her mouth to do anything except continue to chew the still mostly tasteless sandwich, slow as cattle, as she tore off another piece to nibble.
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 11:29 pm
Nothing was said along the way back, but for once it did not cause Gale any anxiety, at least not at the present moment. It wasn't the stiff and unnatural silence from before, but a shared silence in which both of them were collecting their own thoughts again, figuring out which path to take. Every once in a while Gale could see Stormy looking at him out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't say anything, gently leading her back to the house.
Once inside again, some of the anxiety returned because what if she took it all back? What if she retreated into herself and changed her mind, decided she didn't need him after all?
But her voice was quiet and immediate, and Gale felt relief course through him. "I can do that," he said, and just as reluctantly let go of her hand to make his way into the kitchen, opening cabinets and finding the nearest cup he could. He filled it with tap water from the sink and then went back out in the living room to find that Stormy had climbed the stairs, disappearing into the guest room.
Gale followed at a slightly slower pace, careful not to spill the water; and when he reached the landing, he saw her sitting on the bed, a notebook in her hand.
"Here," he said, setting the cup down on the bedside table and giving a curious look to the notebook. Having it written down instead of spoken aloud wasn't as odd as the question itself, and Gale frowned slightly, trying to figure out the answer inside of his head.
"Depends," he said, after a long moment. His tone was careful, clearly trying to make sure he didn't do anything or say anything wrong. "There's the madness that drives people to do bad things, to be bad people. But then there's the madness that creates - the good kind of madness, where people's imaginations explode and they just....they embrace it and they do what they can with it."
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 12:56 am
She was patient as he considered his answer, filling her time with the slow grind of teeth into ham and cheese and bread. With her emotional outburst taking most of her energy with it, Stormy did appear subdued on the bed, guarded even lest the shame of her behavior make its full impact again--but at least it wasn't the dead-eyed thing that had made its way up before. There was light in her eyes, sparks of intelligence within her hollow face.
This was an experiment for them both. She had told Gale before that writing was where she was at her clearest, but there had never been a circumstance to showcase it. She had almost offered him her letters on Christmas Eve but had backed out at the last moment out of fear; there were things there, she realized, that would have been pushing. Or dumping, more like, heaps and heaps of info that weren't even in chronological order, or any order. They were childish things.
(Then again, she was still a child, wasn't she. Or she acted like one when it came down to it.)
But perhaps like this, with him speaking and her writing, things would be clearer. They had told her to write, after all, when she felt what she did, what she had, to purge herself by forcing emotions into words so that others could understand. Gale was safe. She trusted him, even if she didn't trust herself.
Stormy tilted her head a little as he replied, practically a painfully familiar motion by now, and then nodded when Gale finished. She then turned the journal around, skipped a line, and wrote her response, taking a little time herself to find the appropriate words. Giving something form was harder than it seemed when there was someone else reading it for once.
Madness is what it is: the impetus to do something against all logic or reason. People are the ones who direct it towards good or evil or neither.
A saying Mami told me before: "de musica, poeta, y loco, todos tenemos un poco." We all have a little bit of music, poetry, and crazy inside us.
Stormy motioned as if to write more, then remembered the water. Perking, she set the pen down, reached over, and took it to begin sipping, passing Gale a grateful look. But it would be odd if he chose to keep standing there, so she motioned for him to take a seat opposite her on the bed, if he wanted.
I remember things too much. Her pen sat on the page hesitantly, a little frown creasing her forehead. She wanted to erase, but then she had kept the pen specifically because it couldn't. Not the right phrase. I lose myself in them? I play them a lot in my head.
These weren't right. She immediately struck them all out and tried again.
I̷ ̷r̷e̷m̷e̷m̷b̷e̷r̷ ̷t̷h̷i̷n̷g̷s̷ ̷t̷o̷o̷ ̷m̷u̷c̷h̷.̷ ̷N̷o̷t̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷r̷i̷g̷h̷t̷ ̷p̷h̷r̷a̷s̷e̷.̷ ̷I̷ ̷l̷o̷s̷e̷ ̷m̷y̷s̷e̷l̷f̷ ̷i̷n̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷m̷?̷ ̷I̷ ̷p̷l̷a̷y̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷m̷ ̷a̷ ̷l̷o̷t̷ ̷i̷n̷ ̷m̷y̷ ̷h̷e̷a̷d̷.̷
Have you been in touch with your madness before? What does it say?
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 11:07 pm
At least she was eating now, even if it was just tiny bites and nibbles here and there. It was a step in the right direction, and perhaps they could still move forward after this, keep going, bit by bit, until they were both at a place where they could feel comfortable.
Where they could feel safe.
Stormy was not her usual self, but Gale hadn't expected a miracle; this was not a Disney movie, probably much to Stormy's disappointment, but it would take a while to get through to her, to get her onto stable ground once more. Her posture and gestures were almost defensive, more quiet and cautious, but at the very least she was interacting with him, and he could see the life in her eyes.
It was a reassurance that at least something had changed in the past month.
He didn't mind the writing. If that was the only way Stormy could communicate, then he would listen. Gale's eyes flickered across the words she had written, tracing each letter until he was certain he understood the meaning; and then he leaned back with a small nod, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"I like that," he said. "I think the best people have a bit of music, poetry, and crazy inside. It makes life more interesting, more vibrant, y'know?"
Gale almost missed her gesture to sit, but at the last second turned just in time. He gave a nod and kicked off his shoes without bothering to bend over and untie them, crawling onto the bed and sitting cross legged in front of Stormy, his hands in his lap.
He read the notebook again, gaze moving over the scribbled out lines.
"A few times, I should think," said Gale slowly, absently twisting Jinhai's ring. "It tells me that I'm unique; that I probably shouldn't act the way I do, but I do anyway because sometimes the madness is the only way to get through life, get through a hurdle, an obstacle. It tells me that I'm alive."
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Posted: Mon May 12, 2014 9:49 am
For the first time in a long while, she regarded him with a hint of a hopeful smile skirted the borders of her lips as he answered. Maybe Gale would understand, then. Indulging her this far had to mean something, sitting, reading, answering. Stormy drank from the cup, her eyes falling closed as she remembered just how good water felt inside, and they stayed closed even as she rested it back in the space of her lap.
Maybe it was okay to give up a few things. Maybe it'd mean less bottling, less implosions. No screaming or shrieking.
(The sound still reverberated in her ears like an angry buzz, making her wince in pain and renewed shame. The remnants remained there like glass shard, ready to pick back up where she had left off and make her bleed.)
Maybe you'll understand what I mean, Stormy wrote, her normally fluid handwriting suffering from slight trembles; she hoped the sandwich would kick in soon. I am blessed and cursed with a madness that doesn't know a middle ground. What I do, it's usually too much or too little and normally the former.
You've seen it: when I was drunk I came onto you with every intent
She hesitated, biting the inside of her lip.
with every intent way too much force, then went PA when you rightfully said no. And you are seeing it now as sadness overtakes me, even though I know it shouldn't be this way.
What it usually tells me is to live for others. What it's been tell
Another pause, her face losing those small signs of hope. She skipped a line.
It's hard to write for someone else. I apologize.
(line skip)
I'm alive, but I don't feel like it. Food doesn't have taste. Things I want to do don't feel as important anymore. Dreams and reality intertwine because sleep is now optional.
Nevermind. Not alive. Just existing.
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Posted: Mon May 12, 2014 10:36 pm
He liked the hint of a smile, the vague and almost gentle look that she gave him. Some of the tension eased from Gale's shoulders, and he relaxed on the bed, careful not to invade her space. He tugged at one of his socks, smoothed out his jeans, and waited for her to finish writing, Stormy's newly shorn head bent over her notebook.
After a moment she lifted it for him to see again. Gale squinted at the page, his eyes tracing the letters, and then he leaned back, his expression gentle.
"To be fair, I know that was the alcohol that time," he said, and his cheeks were lightly dusted with pink. "I don't think that's quite the best example, but I can understand your point. You're saying you go from one extreme to the other, and haven't yet found a balance between the two."
His gaze moved down to the next few lines, his mouth moving silently as he formed the words.
"You don't have to apologize," Gale said gently. "If this is easier for you, then I'm okay with it."
The next few lines. His heart sank a little, but he carefully maintained his calm demeanor, Gale's eyes flickering towards Stormy's. There was a sad smile on his face as he brushed his overlong hair from his eyes, leaning back a little now that he'd finished reading.
"You're alive. Yes, you're existing, but you're still alive," he said quietly. "I can see it, and I want...I want to help you, Stormy. I want to try and help you get out of this 'existing' state and move you forward again."
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Posted: Tue May 13, 2014 12:26 am
The line was written quickly, a little more centered than the rest to mark its importance. I know you want to help. That's why I'm here and why we're doing this.
She was just aware enough now (as opposed to the robotic fugue from before) that this method of mixed communication was time consuming. When Stormy wrote, she was aware of his idle movements as keenly as if she had been watching them directly; it was why she opted to stay still when it was Gale's turn to read, to make herself as unobtrusive as possible throughout the process. It was honestly how she went through many things, really: trying to make as little ripples as possible.
Off to the side of the line about her drunkenness, Stormy added an arrow and in smaller, more cramped letters, drunk ≠ thoughts weren't already there, something they had discussed at the time a little but which she felt bore repeating, again for the sake of clarity. The fact that she didn't blush said something about her subdued mood, though she did appear a little more antsy after writing it down: her hands returned to her lap momentarily, fingers curled inward, gaze averted. She still regarded the event as sinful, a boundary she had almost pushed far too fast for either of them.
Stormy tore a little piece of sandwich for herself, barely half her thumb's size, sat it on her tongue, and then sat it off to the side between them, in case Gale was hungry. It was around dinner time anyway, she figured.
It's easier but more time consuming + I'm sorry anyway. I've been giving you a hard time for a long time.
To say the least.
A better example then: over three weeks with no contact. (Stormy made herself write out the number to emphasize it to herself.)
Almost an entire month almost three weeks three (3) because I'm crazy. I'm crazy. I'm more mad than anything else right now.
Mad and sad and ashamed for you to look at me and angry and sinking and half wanting to.
I thought separation would help somehow. make things easier. not feeling anything for once was good. I feel too much, Gale.
like everything at once
Stormy bit the inside of her cheek. The mere mention of this was enough to make her eyes sting again.
It's wrong but I liked it, not feeling anything.
not worrying not thinking not anything for once
just...existing. Maybe that's what normal people are like normally:
Un-aching and unfettered
Maybe that's what you were like before I arrived?
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Posted: Wed May 14, 2014 8:04 am
His face softened. Gale itched to reach out and gather Stormy to him, to hug her and kiss her forehead and tell her that he would always be there to help, but that would have been overkill and now was not the time. Now was the time to let Stormy be the one in control, let her get her feelings out so that he could understand them, because this was the most communication he'd had with her in almost a month, and it was dizzying how much he'd missed just talking to her, let alone connecting with her.
Even if it was written instead of spoken, it still send thrills of relief spiraling through Gale's stomach, and he tried to keep himself focus on the matter at hand. He squinted at the tiny, cramped text beside one line and his face began to flush, a faint red tinge crawling up his neck and spreading over his ears. Stormy, however, was not blushing, which made him feel a little awkward, and Gale mentally began to count numbers, trying to relax and to not over think things.
He took a piece of the sandwich, not because he was hungry, but to give him something to do with his hands, Gale absently chewing while he waited for Stormy to finish writing her thoughts. There was a lot this time, and he got through several small bites of the sandwich before she finished, and when she had there was a whole paragraph of text - or rather, several. Gale patted his hands together, getting rid of the remnants of crumbs, and began to read, eyes narrowed slightly to try and focus on the letters.
Three weeks with no contact. It felt longer than that, but that was because he hadn't ever gone more than a day or two without at least talking to her, and this had been terribly hard to bear, to let go and let her grieve in her own way because he hadn't wanted to push, hadn't known what else to do but let her do it.
"I'm not ashamed of you," he said, though he knew that she meant she was ashamed of herself. "And I'm not angry with you."
That was true enough; he wasn't angry anymore, not really. And again, he knew she was talking about herself, not him, and he said as much, his heart twisting inside of his chest.
"...I know you do," he said softly, and his chest ached, his head throbbing. "You feel more than any person I've ever known, and that's always been true. I wish there was a way for me to help carry that emotion because it kills me to know that you're in pain, that you're drowning."
The last part of her paragraph was surprising; Gale's eyes flickered over it and it felt like he was winded, his mouth slightly open, his gaze wide. For a moment he didn't speak at all, his thoughts churning and twisting inside of his head, but then slowly he closed his mouth and his eyes, giving the slightest shakes of his head.
"I was like that because I forced myself to not feel anything," he said quietly. "I...I came here without Leslie. Or rather," he corrected himself, "I came here with Leslie, but she...she didn't wake up, you know that. I came here with Leslie and she was just gone, stuck in one of those bloody pods forever, and I didn't want to think about it, so I forced myself not to, I forced myself to not think of anything but the work."
He opened his eyes and gave a sad little shrug, but now he was starting to understand.
"Maybe that's why I became a full fledged hunter so quickly. It was easier to focus on the work than the pain."
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