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 Posted: Thu Oct 20, 2011 4:33 pm
It was over.
Ganymede could hardly believe they’d made it out of the fight alive. For parts of it, he’d been sure they wouldn’t. It had lasted so long and been so bloody. Everything had seemed to go wrong—but when had that been anything but the norm? When had they ever had the upper hand? When had they ever had a reason to keep hoping? Moment after moment, things had gone from bad to worse. He could hardly even remember a lot of it now—not clearly. Everything blended together into one horrific memory that made his stomach turn and a shiver trail down his spine.
Like Elysion. He could never think about Elysion without wanting to head out the door and run until his muscles burned and he made himself sick.
But it was over now, and they’d won. Somehow, despite everything that had gone so, so wrong, they’d managed to pull through together. He wasn’t entirely sure how. It had all happened in a blur. One moment he had convinced himself that it was the end, and then he was hoping and praying and clutching to Val, and somehow those hopes and prayers had been realized.
He didn’t know what to think of it. He didn’t know how to feel, except relieved. Relieved and thankful and overjoyed to be alive, but angry, too—filled with a bitter disappointment, that things had been so terrible, that things had had to get so bad before their miraculous victory.
He couldn’t stay for the party. He was healed and rejuvenated and so very grateful that they’d all made it through—that he hadn’t lost Val, that he hadn’t had to see any of his teammates struck down—but he couldn’t force himself to smile, he couldn’t force himself to be happy, he couldn’t force himself to be positive and optimistic when they were pushed back and back and won only by the skin of their teeth time and time again.
Ganymede came to a stop on a familiar rooftop, leaning over to catch his breath after sprinting and lurching from roof to roof at top speed, pushing himself harder and harder until every cell in his body burned with life. He and Val had returned to Earth, and Ganymede didn’t know what else to do or where else to go after everything that had occurred up at the Surrounding. How was one supposed to return to a normal life when such horrible things were happening? How was one supposed to move on when they’d practically looked death in the face?
Again…
It wasn’t the first time, and it terrified him to know that it probably wouldn’t be the last.
He crouched down low and put his head between his knees, unsure if he was going to be sick or simply collapse from exhaustion.
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Posted: Thu Oct 20, 2011 9:04 pm
People were already celebrating, but it had only been one battle...
There was still the rest of the war to worry about. Kicking the Negaverse and the DMC out of the Surrounding was only one step. What now, though? What if they could get back in? Everyone had been so happy about the civilians coming back to life and those of chaos gone... It was as if they'd actually won... when they hadn't.
At least Valhalla didn't consider it a win. Not with how many people had lost their lives. Only those who were civilians had apparently come back to life. There were still countless senshi who had been slaughtered. Perhaps those in the negaverse had perished as well, but Valhalla didn't like to think about senshi killing, even though he was well aware that they were just as capable. It just... didn't bode well for him.
"Ganymede! Wait up!" he called after the senshi as he tried to keep up. It almost seemed as though Ganymede was throwing away caution on purpose at this point, the way he was jumping over streets and alleyways that should at least take a little thought before launching one's self over.
He was falling behind... although he had an idea as to where Ganymede was heading. But by the time he reached the roof of his apartment building, Ganymede had already crouched down to... Valhalla wasn't sure.
"Hey..." he said, out of breath and obviously worn down as he slowly approached the senshi. "Are you okay...?"
It was a stupid question, but he had to ask it. Of course he wasn't okay. Why would he be okay? After everything that had happened? After everything they'd all gone through? Why would anyone be okay?
Valhalla powered down, not wanting to draw more attention to them now that they were on his roof, and he knelt down to try and rub at Ganymede's back to hopefully comfort him a little.
It had been a long couple days...
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Posted: Thu Oct 20, 2011 9:36 pm
The hand against his back was reassuring, but it didn’t take the fear away. It didn’t make him feel any more confident that all this would turn out for the best in the end. How could it? What the hand did do was remind him that he wasn’t alone. Val was still here. Chris was still here, and Ganymede hadn’t ever been so relieved to have someone so close in his life. In certain ways, he was more happy about Chris still being alive than he was about himself.
If Chris died, if he didn’t have Valhalla anymore, he didn’t think he could go on—not like this. Maybe he could go back to living a normal life, try to forgot everything that had happened in the last eight months and never take his pen or his phone out again, but he couldn’t continue to go out each night tackling youma and keeping the city as safe as he could make it without the page with him.
None of this had been easy until he knew who Val was. It wasn’t easy now—not always—but having Val at his back, at his side, face-to-face or hand-in-hand… he could do it. He could handle the worst the city had to offer as long as he was there.
Chris was stability, on both sides of his life. He bridged the two parts of it together.
Ganymede shut his eyes and forced himself to focus on the hand. He took a breath, inhaled as much air as he could and let it out slowly.
In, out, repeat.
It wasn’t enough. He shook his head and felt his eyes grow wet—scared and frustrated and in some ways defeated despite their victory, because he knew at some point they’d have to do it all again. Over and over and over again.
For how long? How much longer could they all last?
He shook his head. “No,” he said, quiet. “No, I’m not okay.”
But that was obvious, wasn’t it? How could any of them really be okay?
“This is sick,” he continued, feeling his stomach roll again. “This is so sick. I’m seventeen years old. I shouldn’t have to be dealing with any of this. None of us should be. I can’t… I can barely handle this as it is. It’s just… it's too much, and then when it gets like that… we’re all going to die like this. I don’t want to die like this. I’m still figuring things out. I still have a life that I want to live so badly. Why is this even happening?”
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Posted: Thu Oct 20, 2011 9:57 pm
Oh s**t, he was crying, wasn't he?
"Shh, I know," Chris said, trying even harder to comfort his friend and teammate. He knew how much everything sucked... how much they were taking for granted. People were dying and not being brought back with the others. Unless he'd missed it somehow and they had been brought back. Either way, people shouldn't have to rely on some magical powers to revive them, much less having to go through it all in the first place.
They were all still children... There were children even younger than the two of them. If he found out that Peter was one of them... No, that was too much. He couldn't think that way. Peter was safe at home in his bed.
Chris shifted around to kneel in front of Ganymede, reaching out to pull him into a hug much like he had him and Pasiphae during the battle when they'd had only a few hours to rest and try to recollect themselves.
"I don't want to die either, Ganymede..." he said to hopefully reassure him. He wanted to live a long life of playing baseball and who knew what else. The point was... they were still all so young, fighting battles that even adults wouldn't be able to handle. Or at least he didn't think they'd be able to. Not when there was such pointless killing going on. Then again, it was just like any war, wasn't it...?
"That's right... just breathe..." he encouraged, rubbing at Ganymede's back as he tried to keep himself from falling into thoughts that would leave him empty and feeling helpless. He didn't want to give up, but... what was the point if they would continue doing this for the rest of their lives?
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Posted: Thu Oct 20, 2011 10:27 pm
Sometimes he still wondered how any of this could be real. He’d been so normal before. He’d had normal problems with his parents and school. He’d had normal issues with life. He’d been a teenager. He’d partied and gotten drunk and stayed out all night flirting and dancing and not giving a s**t what anyone thought, and then he’d stumbled home and slept it off and did it all again the very next day.
Then, one cold day in February, everything changed, and he didn’t know how to change it back. He didn’t think he could. Sometimes he didn’t want to, not if he could make a difference, not if he could actually do something to change things.
But when things like this happened, when he saw death and he felt loss and sorrow, he didn’t see how there was anything left for him to do.
Sometimes the future felt like a dream. He could see it clearly in his mind—a stage, ballet slippers, lights, music, cheerful voices, golden eyes as bright and shining as the sun—but it felt so far away, it felt so tenuous, ephemeral, so vulnerable to something dark and evil coming along to snuff it out.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” he said, nearly weeping, though he struggled with all of his might to keep the tears at bay. It felt so good to have Chris holding him. It would have been even better if they could share something more—a kiss, a touch, anything to feel alive, to remind himself that he was here, that they were both here, that they were still together, whole and breathing and living like they were supposed to.
Ganymede didn’t think he’d ever wanted so much. It was almost painful, the way his heart beat in his chest, the way his sadness and despair clogged his throat, the way his fear and bitterness twisted his stomach and tormented his mind.
“I can’t do this,” he said, breathing deep again, raising his head to stare Chris in the eye.
Golden eyes—like joy and hope.
“I need you,” Ganymede told him, holding a steady gaze, much steadier than he felt as he spoke. “I don’t think you realize how much I need you.”
He raised a hand to slip it behind Chris’s neck, dragging him down until their foreheads touched, keeping him close as he closed his eyes and whispered, “Don’t hate me.”
He was alive, but he knew that he could very easily die tomorrow. He didn’t want to die with secrets. He didn’t want to die thinking that Chris would never know.
So he closed his eyes and he let it all fade away until Ganymede was gone, and Paris crouched there on the ground on the roof of Chris’s apartment in the shorts and hoodie he’d pulled on after leaving the studio, holding Chris tightly—one hand on his neck, the other on his shoulder—hoping and praying like he had at the end of the battle, begging whoever or whatever was listening for more time, for another chance, because he wasn’t done yet.
There was still so much more he wanted to do.
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Posted: Thu Oct 20, 2011 11:10 pm
Chris was almost taken aback by the look Ganymede gave him, but he didn't pull away. Not right then, at least. Instead, he stared back... confused and concerned, but still... he stared back.
"Of course you can do this," he mumbled, more to himself than to Ganymede. He didn't want him giving up, not after they'd come so far, after they'd fought to survive, fought to protect those around them, failed, succeeded, thought everything was hopeless, and in a way it probably still was. More and more were being corrupted by chaos and so far he'd only ever heard of one going the other way. Only one being purified from Chaos's hold. It all seemed pretty hopeless if he thought about it.
But he wasn't given much time to think about it, not much time to wallow in his grief of those lost, of the battles that they would still have to fight. He didn't know what Ganymede meant, didn't know the meaning behind his words. He needed him? He didn't think there was much he could do for a Super Senshi. But if it was as a teammate and a friend, he understood needing that. If Ganymede had died, or Pasiphae or Europa or Naica or Babylon or Nyx... or any of those who he'd fought alongside... Well, he didn't want to hink about it.
Instead, he stared at Ganymede, allowing him to pull him closer although he remained confused and concerned and even a bit curious. 'Don't hate me.' He'd heard that plea before... it was so familiar and yet... Chris watched as his friend closed his eyes and felt the energy fade...
His whole body seemed to tense up, as if he was suddenly frozen in place. Paris was sitting in front of him, his arm around him, crying, saying how he needed him.
Chris's first thought was to shove Paris away from him. To yell at him for being stupid and lying to him again. For knowing this entire time who he was and pretending never to know. All those times Chris had spent trying to explain what was going on with the magical war taking place in the city... but Paris knew this whole time.
"Damnit, Paris..." he groaned, defeated for the moment, unable to do anything but just sit there and let his friend and teammate hold onto him as he remained kneeling with his arms around Paris from trying to comfort Ganymede. He held back the compulsion to yell and let his temper get the better of him... and just... let Paris cling to him. After everything they'd just gone through... he figured it was the least he could do.
That didn't mean he wasn't angry.
"Get up," he said after a few moments, but his voice wasn't harsh. He couldn't yell at him after how hard they'd fought already. Instead, it was just a request as Chris pushed himself up from the roof, pulling Paris up with him. "We can at least go inside," he mumbled uncomfortably. Well... damn everything to hell.
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Posted: Fri Oct 21, 2011 6:48 am
Paris was prepared to be pushed back. He was prepared to be shoved and yelled at and kicked out again—perhaps not even spoken to, glared at and accused and left to cope up here by himself. He’d kept so many secrets, kept so many of the wrong things hidden, when Chris had always been upfront and honest with him, at risk to himself if it ended up being the wrong choice, not knowing that Paris understood. He did. He had from the beginning. Long before camp, before he even knew what Chris was, there had been that undercurrent of understanding between them, though neither of them had known what it was.
He wasn’t pushed away, and for that urge to cry grew stronger. He had been prepared for it, yet Chris continued to show him kindness, treated him better than he deserved after all the truths he’d hidden from him. Paris choked out a dry sob in momentary relief, holding Chris tighter, desperate to keep hold of what little of him he had left.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His voice sounded rough in his own ears, struggling through a clogged throat. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
It shouldn’t have been this hard. It shouldn’t have taken this long. Who better to understand what he was going through than Chris? If there was one person in the entire world he had to tell, Paris would want it to be him, not because he expected kindness or concern or sympathy, but because Chris would understand. He had to. How could he not? Chris knew him better than anyone, despite the secrets. Chris knew how he felt, how he thought; Chris knew Paris and Ganymede equally. He’d been closer to Chris in each half of his life than he had to anyone else.
Slowly, gratefully, Paris nodded as Chris suggested going inside. He stood up when he was encouraged to do so, but couldn’t yet make himself let go.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I just… I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. Not after that. You have to understand. I know you do. You know how it was for me. You know how much I wanted to keep things separate.”
He wasn’t sure he could do that anymore. It was too difficult. He felt like he was trying to be two people at once instead of just being himself.
“I… I’ll tell you everything,” he offered. “Anything you want to know. I… I’d just like to use your shower, and then we can talk and I’ll tell you. From the beginning. No more secrets.”
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Posted: Fri Oct 21, 2011 8:52 am
No more lies? Somehow Chris wasn't convinced, but if Paris was going to at least try to convince him that the lies were done and over with, then he was willing to give him a chance, just like he would with anyone else.
He sputtered lightly, then grumbled to himself as Paris stood as well, but refused to let him go. "I'm not going to push you off the building, jeez," he said, exasperated under his breath. He wasn't that horrible of a person, he didn't think. And in a way, he was surprised that Paris had even revealed himself to him. Sure he went around letting his secret be known to more than he probably should just because he wasn't very careful about it, but Ganymede had always refused to let anyone know who he was.
It figured, now that Chris thought about it, that Ganymede was Paris. With how familiar he seemed to be with him. Holding his hand, giving him random, innocent(?) kisses for things like carrying him through a maze. Of course, now that he thought about it, Chris felt his face turn red in both embarrassment and anger. Anger at what, though? It wasn't like he shoved Ganymede away. He was his friend, and he cared about him, just as he cared about Paris, although that was a bit more complicated now.
"Whatever," he nearly snapped, before forcing his mouth shut and ushering Paris towards the fire escape. "Sorry," he grumbled. "Just... do what you have to..." Use his shower, have something to eat... whatever... Because although he knew he should be impressed or grateful that Ganymede finally showed him who he was, Chris couldn't help but feel a little betrayed now that he knew it had been Paris the entire time.
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Posted: Fri Oct 21, 2011 1:56 pm
He lowered his eyes and allowed himself to be ushered to the fire-escape, lifting a hand to wipe a stray tear away before it could fall and become noticeable. He could tell that Chris was angry, and while he’d assumed he would be, known he would be, he'd hoped to at least avoid it tonight, until they’d both calmed down and had some time to rest after the ordeal at the Surrounding. They’d already been through enough as it was. There wasn’t any sense in arguing or letting things become even more dramatic.
But then emotions were already running high for the both of them. There wasn’t any way they couldn’t be. Anyone who experienced what they experienced and said they were fine was either lying to themselves or losing their humanity.
Paris climbed into Chris’s apartment through the fire-escape window, setting his feet down in the loft that was Chris’s bedroom. He looked around and saw that nothing had changed since the last time he’d been inside his apartment more than a month ago. The bed was neatly made and the side tables were free of any clutter. It would have been a surprisingly clean place for a boy if not for a few articles of Chris’s clothing laying around, or the homework spread out on the coffee table on the floor below.
He picked up a pair of discarded socks out of habit and tossed them into a laundry basket, then leaned over to pull of his Keds. If he were downstairs, he’d have placed them in the front closet, but he didn’t feel like heading down there only to come back up, so he set them under the bedside table on the side of the bed he’d slept on the few times he and Chris had shared it.
“I’ll just shower then,” he said, glancing off to the side awkwardly. “I don’t need any clothes. I’ll just wear what I have on now. Technically I haven’t been wearing it for very long.”
He chanced a quick look in Chris’s direction before turning to scurry into the bathroom, afraid of what he’d see if he stared too long, and afraid of what he’d hear if he allowed Chris much time to speak. He shut and locked the door, only slightly guilty that he was commandeering Chris’s bathroom, turning on the shower and stripping off his clothes in record time.
He kept the water almost too hot. For a while, he sat himself on the floor of the shower with his legs drawn up to his chest and his face pressed into his knees, crying quietly and letting the water rush over him, so that his hair was plaster to his head and neck and shoulders. Alone, he didn’t feel quite so bad letting the tears fall, though they frustrated him still. He’d always hated crying, not because it thought it was weak, but because he didn’t think it was right that anyone or anything should make him feel this way.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, wallowing in his fears and insecurities until he felt he couldn’t cry anymore. He climbed to his feet and started to wash up, removing the last lingering traces of blood and dirt and tar until he couldn’t fool himself into believing he still felt them any longer. The wound to his head was gone, magically healed by the powers of Virgo’s outpost. All that remained was the fatigue of an aching body, an overworked mind, and a desperate, frightened soul.
Paris put his shorts and t-shirt back on once he was done and dried off, though he refrained from pulling his hoodie over his head now that they were inside. It was warm enough, and after he’d pulled his damp hair into a pile on his head, he stepped back out of the bathroom to look around for Chris, wondering how he should even begin trying to explain.
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Posted: Fri Oct 21, 2011 10:32 pm
He didn't have anything to say to Paris once they got into the apartment, and let him go to take his shower as he'd requested. Whatever, it was the least that he could do, right? Let Paris use his shower? Whatever... he would just use the one downstairs.
Chris pulled out some clothes to change into, and once downstairs he dropped them on counter for later. Annabel needed to be walked, first. The poor thing hadn't been out at all and hadn't been fed in a whole day. She was happy to see him, of course, but seemed wary of him at the same time, as if she didn't know just what to think.
It didn't take too long to get to the street, go around the block and head back upstairs, so Chris wasn't all that surprised that Paris was still in the shower. Annabel was fed, of course, and he let her eat while he took his clothes into the downstairs shower to at least rinse off. He felt gross and emotionally, physically, and mentally drained. It sucked and he hoped that a shower would make him feel better. It didn't. But he was at least able to pull on some clean clothes.
The next order of business was to make some tea. It was the go-to thing when he was exhausted and just didn't have anything else left in him. It was decaffeinated since he didn't want to stay up for hours. He wanted to sleep and not worry about anything... There was also soup on the stove top, and despite what others thought about his cooking, he could at least heat up water. It was keeping the soup from boiling that he needed help with, but he forced himself to stand in front of the stove and watch until he saw little bubbles, making sure to stir it every now and then. He turned it off and poured it into the bowls he'd pulled out, piling everything onto a serving tray (because his mother couldn't imagine anyone not having a serving tray, so she got him one), and was heading up the stairs as he heard the bathroom door open.
"Jeez, that took forever," he grumbled, but it sounded forced, even to his own ears. He was just trying to find things to complain about now. Really, he just wanted to make sure Paris was okay. He wasn't. He knew he wasn't. And he knew there was nothing he could do about that... But he wanted to try and help...
"There's... uh... sugar packets and I already poured in the milk, sorry... It's too hot to drink right now..." he explained, refusing to look at the other young man, not wanting to get angry and do something he'd end up regretting.
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Posted: Sat Oct 22, 2011 2:39 pm
“Sorry,” Paris responded to Chris’s complaint.
He kept his head down, staring at the floor or off to the side, one hand coming up to distractedly rub at his opposite arm. It was a common enough reaction when he felt out of place or nervous or in any way ashamed of something he’d done, but he wasn’t used to feeling this way around Chris. They never used to argue. He never used to be afraid of what Chris was thinking. He never used to feel unsure of himself when he was with him, because Chris had always made him feel so good—better than anyone else ever had.
They used to be perfect. Paris had always thought it was because Chris was perfect. He knew he wasn’t now. He recognized his temper, his self-righteousness, all the negative qualities he hadn’t noticed before because they’d never been directed at him. Now that he saw them, and now that Chris saw his faults in return, Paris doubted they could ever be perfect again.
A small, quiet, hidden part of him wondered if that was how it was supposed to be—not perfection, but imperfection, two flawed people who saw the best and accepted the worst in each other.
“I guess we can just… sit on the bed,” he said, cautiously moving over to it, prepared to stop if Chris should tell him to, but Chris had brought the soup and the tea upstairs, so he assumed he’d intended to do this somewhere more comfortable than simply sitting awkwardly across one another in the downstairs living area or kitchen.
He sat himself down on “his side”—the right, closer to the stairwell that led to the floor below—and made himself as comfortable as he possibly could, though he soon ended up with his legs drawn up to his chest again. Absentmindedly, he rubbed at his feet, and chanced a glance up at his ex-boyfriend to see if he would join him. He didn’t expect to sit too close. The bed was big enough to offer them plenty of room, and he sat close enough to the edge to allow for a good bit of space between them, though he was careful not to get too close so as to fall off.
“I don’t… really know what to say,” he admitted. “I mean, you know how I wanted to keep things separate. You know how… how cautious I was about my identity. I… I didn’t want to tell you before because I knew it would make things complicated and… you knew I was a boy as Ganymede, so obviously I didn’t want that,” he said, wincing as he realized how that could very easily encourage Chris’s temper. “And then after… after I told you the truth… it just wasn’t the right time. Nothing ever seems like it’s the right time, but after tonight, I… I don’t want to die without at least one person knowing who I am and… I knew it had to be you, because out of everyone I know as Ganymede, you mean the most to me…”
Now that he’d taken the first step in revealing himself to Chris, he thought he might be able to consider showing some of his other teammates who he was—Europa whom he trusted, or Pasiphae who’d already revealed herself to him—but somehow he’d always known that it would be Chris first. It had to be Chris first, because Chris understood him better than anyone else.
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Posted: Sat Oct 22, 2011 7:41 pm
He didn't want to do the whole... getting mad at each other thing. He was too tired to really want to worry about things that should have been or shouldn't have been. Right now he just wanted to eat something and get to sleep. The others might be partying after their apparent 'victory', but he was still wary about the whole thing. They were celebrating, sure, but that didn't mean they should let their guard down. As if he was one to talk about guard and how to keep it up or not.
"That's fine," he said as Paris suggested sitting on the bed, setting the tray down on the comforter and carefully sliding it in the middle for the both of them to reach. He was starving and while he knew a bowl of soup wasn't going to do much, it would at least be enough before just... going to sleep.
He kept his eyes adverted from Paris's, not because he was angry at the moment. He just didn't know what to say to him, or what to do now. "It's hot... be careful," he warned again, fretting out of habit. He picked up his own bowl to place in his lap after sitting on his side of the bed, lifting the spoon up to blow on the hot liquid before taking a sip. It wasn't anything fancy. Just some regular chicken noodle. It was bland and something he hadn't completely ruined, surprisingly.
Chris tensed when Paris reminded him how he'd been hiding his gender from him, not wanting to get onto that topic, and apparently Paris didn't want to get onto that topic either because he quickly changed it. But he could understand why he wouldn't want to die without someone knowing... Sure, he would probably figure it out if Ganymede died and Paris was suddenly gone... Or maybe he would be forced out of his transformation...? Either way, he didn't want to think about it. It was all too depressing and made him feel sick to think of someone he cared for dying. Someone he worked with on a team, hand-in-hand, fighting until the end, and somehow surviving.
There was a pause as he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, doing what he could to keep his temper at bay. "It's fine, Paris... I wish you could have told me before... but I understand why you didn't..." Or at least he was trying to understand. He didn't know why Paris had been lying to him for so long, but... there wasn't much he could do about that now, was there?
"I can get you something else if you don't want your soup," he offered, still tense as he spoke through gritted teeth. He used to be so comfortable around Paris, but now? It was like he didn't know what to expect... and he hated that.
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Posted: Sat Oct 22, 2011 8:22 pm
Paris took the bowl of soup but left the mug of tea where it was to cool off for a moment. Hoping Chris wouldn’t notice, he tentatively looked the soup over to make sure it wasn’t… toxic… or anything like that, but it looked fine. He took his spoon and stirred it around a little bit just in case, and when no strange globs or other unappetizing effects appeared to take form he deemed it safe enough to eat. To be sure, he took a careful sip first. It tasted fine, and he scooped his spoon in and quickly blew it cool to begin eating in earnest.
He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he had food right in front of him. When was the last time he’d eaten something? Maybe at lunchtime before heading to the studio for a few hours? Or the power bar he’d snacked on before heading to the Surrounding. Did that even count?
“Soup is fine,” he said. No, it wasn’t very filling, but having something bland would probably do wonders to settle his stomach. He lowered his legs to be able to hold the bowl a bit more carefully and continued to gulp partially cooled spoonfuls down, managing to add a quick “Thank you” between bites.
It was quiet for a while. Paris focused on eating and let Chris do the same, wary of making his ex even more uncomfortable, and doing his best not to tread on any topics that would only make him angry. Any other time, he might not have minded. Sometimes it was nice just to shout at one another and get their frustrations out, but he didn’t want to do that today. There would be a time for that later, he was sure. Now was the time to be thankful they were both alive.
Every couple of minutes, Paris glanced over at Chris out of the corner of his eye, trying to come up with something else to say but not knowing what he would be interested in hearing. Suddenly it almost felt as if they were strangers, and he liked that even less that the friction that always seemed to crop up now when the encountered one another outside of their powered forms.
“I awoke back in February,” he tried when his bowl was half empty, staring down into the yellow-ish depths of his soup and the pieces of noodle and chicken that sunk to the bottom of the bowl instead of looking at Chris as he spoke. “I can’t remember if I ever told you all this. There were a lot of really bad battles back then, in this place called Elysion. I’m… not even completely sure what it was. It was hard to keep up when I barely even knew what I was doing, but… I would go to sleep and then I would be there. It’s where I met Europa for the first time. The battles were really chaotic and bloody. I… I tried not to think about them once I woke up. I thought if I could just… push them out of my mind they wouldn’t be real.”
Clearly that wasn’t the case, but trying to associate the dream world with actual dreams instead of some strange reality had been the only way he’d been able to cope with it at the time.
“It was… really hard for me to get used to this,” he continued, stirring his spoon through his soup again and watching the chicken and noodles swish around. “I didn’t really know how to handle it. I started avoiding people. I stopped going to see Ladon because I was afraid of dragging him into it. And then I met you, and… and you were so different than everyone else I’d ever known up until then. I felt so normal with you. You made me feel good about myself at a time when I was really struggling, and so when I found out you were Val, I…”
He paused and chanced another sad glance over at him. “I felt so relieved. I felt like… I didn’t have to be alone anymore.”
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Posted: Sun Oct 23, 2011 11:44 am
Chris didn't notice Paris inspecting the soup, which was good because he would have gotten offended, but instead he was busy focusing on eating from his own bowl. It was just something to have in their stomach before going to sleep... probably on the couch, for him, but he figured it would be better to converse somewhere more comfortable.
He didn't really pause in eating once Paris spoke up to tell him about when he'd awoken and Elysion, but he did slow down a bit. Elysion...? He was pretty sure he'd heard that name before, but not something he was familiar with. It might have been mentioned when Lily and Zia, with the help of the little girl named Istas, were trying to get him up to date on everything that had gone on in Destiny City from the time all this crazy stuff started happening until this point.
If the battles had been more bloody, though... he was glad he hadn't been there to experience them. He did sigh lightly as Paris glanced over at him, so sad and desperate looking. "Don't be so over dramatic," he mumbled, setting his empty bowl back down on the tray so he could pick up the tea to sip at. But even still, he didn't know why his face felt hot. Embarrassment or flattery perhaps. He wasn't used to being a blushing idiot, but he found that's what happened when he held back his temper. It was easier for him to just... let everything go.
"You shouldn't have known who I was," he admitted, feeling like he really was setting himself up for trouble in the long run. "You said so yourself... I should be more careful about it..." He shrugged lightly as if it wasn't that big a deal any more, knowing he'd been lucky in that Paris was on his side. Chris usually thought he had a pretty good sense of a person's character, and he'd definitely been lucky in times passed.
"It was easy for me," he admitted, feeling guilty now that he realized just how tough it must have been for Paris... for Ganymede, to be thrown into everything at the drop of a hat, without much of a chance to get his bearings. "When I awoke... Zirconia had been with me. She took the time to explain things... She helped me get my act together a little, although we still got into trouble," he explained, as if he only now realized how lucky he'd been.
"When... that guy with the wings at the Surrounding... the Prince? Castor, I think?" he tried out, not really sure if he'd caught the name right. The guy hadn't actually gone around introducing himself, so he wasn't entirely sure. "What did he mean by all that? Something about letting people die?" He was curious and hoped it wasn't something too touchy with Paris... he just... wanted to know. From his side and not when everything was being thrown out in the open. Chris grimaced a little, lowering his head in shame. "I should have defended you better... There was just... so much going on. We should have broken the mirrors..."
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Posted: Sun Oct 23, 2011 12:25 pm
He didn’t think he was being overdramatic—perhaps a little more open with his feelings, a little deeper with his emotions, but none of it was false or exaggerated. Lies had been what had gotten them here. He wasn’t going to do that anymore. Besides, there was nothing he could say about these circumstances except the truth. Anything less than total honesty and he’d think he hadn’t done a good enough job explaining, he’d worry that Chris didn’t understand completely.
He wasn’t asking for devotion. He wasn’t asking for what they’d had before—which had been a cheap imitation, really, but still better than anything else he’d ever had. All he wanted was understanding. All he wanted was for Chris to stay by his side as his friend and teammate and help him through this, because he didn’t think he could do it without him anymore.
Dependency was a dangerous thing, he realized, but he’d spent so many months struggling alone, he wanted someone he could always rely on.
Paris frowned and winced as his ex brought up the senshi prince, going back to staring into his soup. “I saw him during one of the battles at Elysion. He helped me at one point, but… I think his expectations are a little too high when it comes to newly awakened senshi. I was so scared. I mean, I’d just awakened and I hardly knew what to expect, and to be pulled into those sorts of battles right away…? I would never want anyone else to have to do that. I… I just sort of stood there and tried not to get hurt or get in the way, and there were others getting hurt or... or worse. I got snapped at by a couple of people. At that point, I was just trying to get out of there alive. I could barely focus on anything else when I was terrified and just… lost…”
He took a few more swallows of his soup, scooping out the rest of the chicken and noodles and forcing them down a tight throat before setting the bowl with the left over broth aside and taking his tea to take a few careful sips at.
“I felt… useless,” he said, looking back on that time but trying not to let his mind focus on any particular image. “I felt worthless. I was just suddenly thrown into all of this. I mean, the only time before that when I’d even encountered any of it was last Christmas Eve. There was this… ice woman… monster thing… and at that point there was so much snow and ice flying around I could barely even see what was going on around me and I was stuck fending for myself, so… I didn’t exactly have a very high opinion of anyone, and then to suddenly find out that I am one…”
He sipped at his tea again, letting the silence hang for a couple of moments. A lot of what he was saying sounded a bit like excuses. He could have taken initiative. He could have been braver instead of trying to run away from it all. He knew he wasn’t perfect, he knew he’d made some mistakes, but he thought he’d been doing better—partly because of Val and the others, and partly because he had something to fight for now.
“You were lucky,” Paris told him, glancing over at him with a sad, ironic twist of his lips. “You knights don’t even need cats, but you had a feisty, no-nonsense one with you when it happened. It doesn’t seem like she’s the kind to sugar coat anything. I wish I had that. All I got were the basics. Senshi are good, Negaversers are bad, youma need to be destroyed, here’s your pen and your phone and go get ‘em.”
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