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 Posted: Sun Nov 04, 2012 2:10 pm
It wasn’t often that Paris awoke before his alarm, which chimed at 6 o’clock every morning.
Most nights he slept right through thanks to the assistance of the sleeping aid he’d been encouraged to begin taking after insomnia had begun to affect his health. Occasionally he wondered if he should be depending on them so much even now, more than two months later, but after a stressful day of classes, work, patrolling, dancing, and the cooking and cleaning and dog-walking he did at home, the little pill seemed entirely harmless when it meant he could get the necessary amount of sleep to do it all again the very next day.
There was a night early in November, however, when he woke up from the sort of bad dreams he didn’t often have anymore, and if he did he never remembered them in the morning. He had enough terrifying memories buried deep back into the recesses of a mind that wanted to focus on better things for his imagination to draw from, visiting him late, late at night when unconsciousness made him vulnerable, and there wasn’t anything he could do to force it away.
He didn’t jerk awake and sit straight up in bed. Paris didn’t know anyone who did that outside of books and movies. Instead, he came out of it slowly, recognizing that what he was seeing wasn’t real but fearing it all the same, shifting beneath the blankets and slowly opening his eyes to peer through the darkness tiredly, his heart racing.
Groaning, Paris reached over to the switch hanging by his bedside table and flicked on the small lantern lights he’d strung up over his and Chris’s bed soon after they’d moved in, filling the room with a soft yellow glow. He pushed himself up with the intention of using the bathroom and getting something to drink in the hopes that when he returned he’d be able to sleep peacefully again, when he saw out of the corner of his eye that no one laid in the bed beside him. He paused to stare at Chris’s side of the bed, still a bit bleary eyed as he reached out with a hand to touch the sheets which weren’t warm, before he turned to find the clock at his bedside to see what time it was.
12:42.
“Chris?” he called, hoisting himself to his feet.
He stumbled until he was more awake, leaving the bedroom to see that the bathroom was empty, and then heading down the short hallway to see that the kitchen and living-room were similarly vacant, though a lamp had been left on.
“Christopher?” he tried again, even though it seemed fairly obvious to him that he was in the apartment alone—except for Anna and Sassy, curled up in their respective beds.
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Posted: Sun Nov 04, 2012 6:58 pm
It had been a long night for the young college student, but nothing a few cups of coffee in the morning couldn't fix. Over the past week, he'd been trying to somehow jump start Zia into awakening as a knight, but with no luck. Some nights were easier than others. Sometimes they came across an easy youma quickly, and others they were left wandering for hours. He was determined to find some kind of trigger to get her to awaken.
It was almost two thirty by the time Chris got home to the little apartment he shared with Paris. He'd powered down several blocks away so as not to attract the attention of any unwelcome visitors, leaving him with a long walk home.
He opened the door as quietly as he could with the way the screen door squeaked and how the door stuck to the frame. They hadn't accomplished anything that night, but he had managed to get a nasty bite from the youma they'd been fighting. By this point, he wasn't worried about its teeth being poisonous, but in the dark they'd done a crappy bandage job on his left forearm. Chris winced as he shrugged off the jacket he'd been wearing, which thankfully wasn't torn up since he'd been powered when he was bit, but the longsleeve shirt he'd been wearing had splotches of blood now.
The first aid kit was dropped into the wicker chest beside the door — a hiding place to keep Paris from getting too concerned about what he was doing with the kit out in the first place, and his jacket was almost tossed onto the couch... but Chris blanched when he noticed it was already occupied.
"Paris," he started weakly, guiltily glancing down at his shoes. "What are you doing up...?" He didn't usually get up in the middle of the night... which was why he figured it would be okay...
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Posted: Sun Nov 04, 2012 7:17 pm
For a little while Paris had just stood there kind of helpless, discomforted and exhausted and suddenly very worried. It was with a dull throb of panic that he’d turned back around to return to the bedroom and grab his phone, but all of his subsequent texts and calls had gone unanswered.
So he’d made himself comfortable on the couch, or as comfortable as he could be after waking up from a nightmare to find his boyfriend missing with no explanation as to where he’d gone. Of course, Paris wasn’t stupid—well, not that stupid. He easily came up with a few ideas without much assistance. Chris wasn’t the partying type, so that cut out that possibility, nor did he think Chris was capable of all those other illicit transgressions that might lurk in the shadows of a normal relationship.
No, if Chris had gone anywhere to do anything without telling Paris where or what it was, it was to scour the city for youma.
As if they didn’t do that enough already.
He was indeed curled up on the couch when Chris finally arrived home almost two hours later, in little more than a purple flannel pajama top and a pair of socks with one of the extra blankets thrown around his shoulders for a little added warmth. He clutched his cellphone in one hand; with the other he anxiously twisted his promise ring around his finger with the help of his franticly working thumb. He’d turned the TV on nearly half an hour ago, hoping he wouldn’t catch some late night breaking news that might send his stomach plummeting, but wanting to know all the same.
Paris sat up quickly when the door finally opened, but he didn’t rise beyond that, unsure if he should be relieved or angry or both. Mostly he felt drained, as tired and helpless as he’d been when he’d woken up to find Chris gone.
“I had a dream,” he said quietly. He didn’t stop twisting his ring around his finger. “I was going to get some water and you weren’t there. I didn’t know where you’d gone, and I thought-…” Here he caught sight if Chris’s bandaged forearm. “What happened?” he asked.
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Posted: Mon Nov 05, 2012 2:35 pm
The ring twisting didn't go unnoticed, but Chris glanced away and took a few moments to slowly pull off his shoes while he was by the door. He hadn't wanted this to happen. If there had been a way to keep Paris from finding out about how he sometimes went out at night after his boyfriend had gone to sleep, he would have taken the secret to his grave...
But now there wasn't really any chance in denying it. Who knew how long Paris had been up; how long he'd been waiting... It made Chris feel guilty, more so than it probably should. He knew Paris was prone to worrying easily... hence trying to keep it from him...
"What? Oh..." he mumbled, glancing down at his arm and shaking his head to keep Paris from freaking out even more. "Just a bite... It's shallow, so I'll be fine," he promised, tugging the rolled up sleeve of his shirt down over the bandages. At least he wasn't lying about it! The cuts were shallow, and he would be fine... But Paris's soft, clearly worried voice had him wishing he could just drop through a hole in the floor. He didn't dare try to escape lest he worry him even more... but there was a brief thought of how long it would take him to power up and... go to Valhalla...
"I'm sorry," he tried weakly, shifting awkwardly in place now that his shoes were off and he had nothing to do but eventually make his way to the bathroom to fix the haphazardly done bandages. The resemblance to a dog with its tail between its legs was almost uncanny... He obviously knew he did something he shouldn't have.
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Posted: Mon Nov 05, 2012 4:12 pm
“You have blood on your sleeve,” Paris pointed out tonelessly.
He wasn’t angry. He wondered if he should be, or if it was even worth it. Did he have any right to be angry at Chris, or would ranting and raving about it be an overreaction? Probably. It wasn’t like he didn’t go off on his own from time to time, though he never did it so late at night and he rarely stayed out so long. That was his choice, of course. Before waking up tonight to find himself alone, he hadn’t even been suspicious that Chris might go out when he was otherwise unaware, but there was a part of him that thought he should have known.
Chris wasn’t like him. Chris couldn’t cut the knight part of himself off and return to a civilian life as easily; he didn’t make as much of an effort to keep the two separate. He put more of himself into it, while Paris… he gave enough, he thought. He did what he had to.
Another part of him wanted to be angry, though, because anger was always easier than fear, but it seemed so stupid right now. He figured he should just be grateful that Chris had actually come back relatively unscathed.
“I can fix it,” he offered, “just… wait here. Sit down, or… go get changed…”
Slowly, Paris rose to his feet to turn and make his way to the bathroom, where they had more medical supplies stored in the cabinet under the sink other than the measly first aid kit Chris had stowed away. They had perhaps more medical supplies in their apartment than most normal people would have in their home, what with how frequently one or the other was injured—not always from youma, though that was probably the most common cause these days when it came to Chris. Other times their injuries were a little less peculiar, the result of dance and baseball instead of crazy alien warfare.
“Put your shirt on top of the washing machine. I can try to get the blood out,” he tried to call out, but his voice didn’t come as loudly or as clearly as he meant it to.
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Posted: Mon Nov 05, 2012 5:48 pm
Chris opened his mouth to respond, but when he realized there wasn't anything for him to say besides making lame excuses and apologies he closed it and ducked his head in shame. He hadn't meant to get hurt, it was just a risk when it came to fighting youma. It really wasn't that bad, or it didn't seem like it was that bad... He could still move his arm at least.
"Paris..." he called after him, his voice quiet and guilty, but with nothing really to say. It didn't appear as though Paris had heard him anyway, since he didn't respond. But that was fine by him because he wouldn't have anything to say anyway...
Slowly he worked on getting his shirt off, pulling it up over his head and peeling it carefully down his arm, so as not to disrupt the quickly done bandages. Worst things could have happened, right...?
Now that he was down to his undershirt, it was a lot easier to feel the chill in the air, and he shivered as he deposited the article in question on the washing machine, hoping Paris realized how grateful he was to him for what he did. Chris knew he was rather helpless when it came to more domestic things... He just... couldn't manage them, for some reason. But for Paris, it was almost like second nature, which made Chris wish he could help out more than he did.
But he couldn't even make pancakes without burning them to a crisp or having them too mushy.
He sat down on the couch as he waited, leaning his head against the back and taking in a breath before sighing deeply. "I'm sorry..." he tried again, his eyes closed. He was waiting for Paris to yell at him or... something. Anything but the sad, worried voice that he was speaking to him with... It was worse than anger.
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Posted: Mon Nov 05, 2012 6:24 pm
Wandering back out into the living-room, Paris tossed his phone onto the couch as he sat down along the edge of the coffee table, facing Chris while rummaging through a much larger first aid kit that should have more adequate supplies.
“It’s fine,” he said, even though it wasn’t.
Part of him wanted to yell and part of him just wanted to sit there quietly or not talk at all, because he didn’t even know what to say and he’d rather say nothing at all than say something wrong. He could be honest and tell Chris he didn’t want him going out to patrol alone this late at night, but he doubted it would have much of an effect except to make Chris feel more guilty than he obviously did already, and it wasn’t really in his power to make Chris stop. Chris probably wouldn’t listen—and if it did it wouldn’t last long—and, anyway, Paris didn’t exactly want to turn into a controlling b***h.
He reserved that side of himself for other people. Jerks and stupid people and the scum who deserved it. Chris was different—he always ways. Their relationship wasn’t supposed to be about that.
Then again, it wasn’t supposed to be about secrecy either. He thought they’d put those sorts of things behind them.
“I tried calling you,” Paris told him, and then asked, “Were you out by yourself, or…?”
He pulled out all of the necessary supplies and set them aside while he reached for Chris’s injured arm. It was a pretty shoddy bandage job, but at least his boyfriend hadn’t been stupid enough to go around without anything at all. At first, Paris did what he could to make the removal gentle and as painless as possible, but he was upset and he might have accidentally pulled a bit harder than he meant to at certain points, with the result being that Chris lost a couple of arm hairs.
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Posted: Mon Nov 05, 2012 7:39 pm
"You tried calling...?" he blinked in surprise, before wincing at the roughness in which Paris was pulling off the bandages. He whimpered softly, but figured he deserved some form of revenge for him wandering off without leaving a note or anything.
That seemed to be the theme lately... take out all frustrations on Chris.
Pushing himself off the couch slightly, he reached with his good hand into the back pocket of his pants, pulling out the cellphone that had been stuck in subspace until he'd powered down. "I didn't get any--" he started, but as he spoke, the phone buzzed several times, the data finally catching up to current time. "... Oh," he mumbled, unlocking the phone to be able to see just how many times he'd been called, ducking his head guiltily at not knowing he'd been called until then.
But how was he supposed to know! "My phone was in subspace," he mumbled, although Paris should realize that by now. It wasn't like he was trying to avoid him! "I wasn't by myself, though... I'm not that stupid," he continued to pout, although he was sure Paris thought he was pretty dumb, anyway. "I was really just the look out... I wasn't even supposed to be fighting them, and I haven't been fighting them! Not usually, only when I need to... Tonight it just got a little unpredictable, even with my magic..."
He hadn't meant for the youma to get that close to him. He was busy making sure Zia was paying attention to what was going on and... he just got too close.
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Posted: Tue Nov 06, 2012 3:14 pm
“As if your magic isn’t unpredictable enough as it is,” Paris mumbled, one of the only signs that he was actually annoyed.
He wasn’t even sure which part of it annoyed him more—that Chris had gone out, that Chris had been hurt, that Chris hadn’t thought to tell him, or all of the above. Sure, he knew why Chris wouldn’t have said anything about it, clearly not wanting to worry him or keep him up at night when sleep could often be such a fleeting thing, but between knowing and not knowing when he might expect a call informing him of some crisis, or the results of one, Paris thought he’d prefer the former.
At least then he’d have the time to prepare himself for the possibility.
Of course, that could prove both fruitless and unnecessarily stressful. In the end, it probably wasn’t worth stressing about now that it was done.
“It’s fine,” he said again, a little more firmly, a little more confidently the second time around. “I was just… I didn’t know. I mean, I assumed that’s what you were doing, but you didn’t say, and I didn’t know when to expect you back, and I didn’t want to just go back to sleep in case… in case… well... what if you needed me? What were you doing staying out so late anyway? You have class in the morning.”
Paris worked on Chris’s forearm as he rambled, inspecting the wound to make sure it was clean once he had the bandages off. Gently he released Chris to stand and head for their small, narrow kitchen, fetching a washcloth and wetting it in the sink before returning to clean away some of the dried or drying blood on Chris’s arm.
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Posted: Tue Nov 06, 2012 5:50 pm
Chris opened his mouth and then closed it, finding that what he had to say was just... nothing good enough to offer comfort to Paris, much less excuse himself for his recklessness.
Instead, he lowered his gaze to his arm where Paris had finished ripping off the bandages. No more than an inch above the first puncture wound was where the band of Chris's watch rested, covering a small, but delicate blue rose, tattooed onto his wrist just over a week ago. He was still having to take care of it and make sure everything was okay, but the redness had since died down and the blue ink seemed to grow brighter every day.
But the thought of looking at it made him feel guilty, and he suddenly wished that he'd been bitten on his right arm instead of his left... or that the wound would have been on the top of his arm, and not underneath where it hadn't been protected by the metal vambrace. He wondered if there was a chance at keeping it covered, hoping that maybe Paris would be annoyed enough to leave the watch on and not bother with it...
"You don't usually get up in the middle of the night," he mumbled lamely, although made sure he was loud enough for Paris to hear as he retrieved what he needed in the kitchen. "I didn't think I would be out that late, anyway... I'm usually home before midnight."
More lame excuses... And here he was, keeping Paris awake when they both needed to be up early. "You don't have to worry about this... I can just get some new bandaids and that'll be fine," he insisted weakly, doubting any argument would be heard.
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Posted: Tue Nov 06, 2012 6:03 pm
Heard? Maybe.
Ignored? Definitely.
“Of course I don’t have to,” Paris mumbled back.
The “but I want to” went unsaid, though he was sure they both knew that was what he meant by his comment. If he couldn’t go out with Chris at all hours of the night and help him dust youma and stop him from getting hurt in the process, then he at least wanted to be able to take care of him when he got back.
Paris paid no mind to Chris’s attempt to… not brush him off, but maybe usher him back to be prematurely. Instead, he continued to focus on Chris’s injury, minor as it was—or minor compared to what could have been and what had been before. The wound itself was shallow, an obvious bite that probably looked worse than it was. Paris did end up removing Chris’s watch in the process of cleaning the injury, his eyes sparing a quick glance at the small tattoo before he went back to focusing on the youma bite.
“I had a dream,” he explained again. He set the washcloth aside once he was done cleaning the wound, gently drying it and then dabbing some antiseptic onto the worst of it. “I don’t really remember what it was about now. Probably the usual.”
And by that he meant Elysion, the Surrounding, or the ambush from a few months ago.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. I was sort of distracted once I realized you were gone. Didn’t want to go back to sleep. I just… had to make sure you got home okay,” he said, pausing to gently stroke his thumb over the little blue rose on Chris’s wrist.
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Posted: Tue Nov 06, 2012 6:34 pm
The antiseptic made him wince, but he did his best to hold any other whining back. It was bad enough he was injured... he didn't have to start worrying Paris about being in pain as well. And it wasn't like he hadn't had worse before! The scars from Painite's spear was evidence enough.
Chris frowned sadly upon hearing that Paris had had a dream, feeling even more guilty that he hadn't been there to comfort him. Even though it was hardly the same, he reached out his good hand to clasp over Paris's, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Hey..." he tried softly, not wanting to sound harsh or pushy, but wanting him to know that he was there. "I'm sorry," he said for a third time, pulling Paris's hand away from his wrist so he could lift it to his lips. "I never meant to worry you... I should have left a note. I wasn't thinking... But you have to trust me, okay? I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not getting myself into things I can't get out of," he promised, kissing Paris's hand between sentences.
"I'm not the pathetic Page you once knew... Just as you're not the newbie Senshi... I love you, but you have to trust that I'll come back..."
He knew it wasn't the best assurance, and probably just made Paris feel worse about everything, but... it was all he had at the moment. He wasn't sorry he went out, after all... just that he got caught.
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Posted: Tue Nov 06, 2012 6:53 pm
“I do trust you,” Paris insisted. “I knew where you’d gone. I knew you’d at least try to be careful, I just… wanted to wait for you… to make sure. I’m not going to stop you, I just want to know…”
He let Chris take his hand, watching him kiss it, wished he could move closer, but he wanted to finish taking care of Chris’s injury first. For lack of anything better to do, he ran his sock-covered toes along the side of Chris’s foot and kept his free hand on Chris’s arm.
In a way he felt guilty for making Chris feel guilty, which didn’t help them at all, nor did it do any good for the situation.
“You have to trust me, too,” he said. “I know you didn’t tell me because you didn’t want me to worry, because I’m…”
He didn’t know how to explain it, how to describe that particular issue that still troubled him. “Sick” was probably the easiest word to use, but he didn’t really like the sound of it, nor did he know if it was accurate, and he didn’t think he was that bad anymore anyway. He’d had some problems, sure. He still had some, and he’d likely have to contend with that for a long time. He’d since resigned himself to it. He didn’t like it, he didn’t like what it made people think, or how it made him seem to people who just didn’t understand, but it was what it was and he was doing what he needed to in order to continue getting better.
“Because I… worry too much…” he finished lamely, ashamed and annoyed because he was ashamed. He shifted uncomfortably and kept his eyes focused on Chris’s wrist. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so… I don’t know. I’m just stupid, I guess.”
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Posted: Wed Nov 07, 2012 3:31 pm
"I do trust you," Chris insisted right back, giving his hand a little squeeze as he held it. "I didn't tell you because... not because you worry too much," he tried to explain, shifting where he sat as if trying to get himself to explain things better. "You're not stupid, Paris... I just... I feel guilty as it is for doing it, I didn't want you to get caught up in it..."
It was vague, and he knew it. He could only say so much and give enough things away before Paris put two and two together, but he didn't want him to think poorly of him, either way.
"I'm... trying to help Zia become a knight," he cautioned slowly, knowing they'd promised to be honest with each other, and now that he'd been caught, there wasn't much room for denying things. "I took her to Valhalla the other night... Er, wait... Michael had called me and said she was acting weird, but she's been avoiding me, so I took her to Valhalla so she couldn't just, like... hop into a car with some douchebag and ride off. I wanted to be able to talk to her in peace, but then...! Then... there was a memory I saw... You know, when the visions appear and you can see parts of your past life or whatever...? Anyway... Serge was with this woman who looked just like Zia... Like, it was kinda freaky... Well... she's been going through some rough times and... I think that if she was a knight, that would be so much better than... what fate has for her, now..." he rambled until he ran out of things to say and then trailed off.
He'd pretty much said it all, though. Aside from the fact that Zia was really sharing a body with Zirconia and all that...
"Please... don't be upset with me... If you ever wanted to come along, that would be fine with me... We're just out looking for youma for her to try and trigger an awakening... but nothing's really worked so far. And it's not because you worry!" he quickly insisted again. "You just... you need to sleep... and I feel bad about keeping you up..."
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Posted: Wed Nov 07, 2012 6:21 pm
Paris was immediately concerned by Chris’s intentions, though not necessarily for the reason one might think. Under different circumstance he might have been more worried about Chris getting hurt than what Chris was actually trying to do to someone else.
“Why are you-… I would never do that to my best friend,” he said, staring at Chris oddly.
He tried to keep those sorts of things as far removed from his best friend as he possibly could. In this city, it wasn’t always easy; it was damned near impossible sometimes, but Paris thought he was managing it pretty well. He didn’t have those sorts of conversations with his best friend. He made absolutely no mention of it, even from an objective standpoint. He kept his secrets and pretended like everything was normal, both because he wanted to actually be able to keep something that was normal, but also because he didn’t want to risk inadvertently drawing his best friend into it and watching him get hurt in the process.
Why Chris would think this girl would be better off as a knight, Paris had absolutely no idea, nor could he formulate any explanation on his own that made any sort of sense. As far as he was aware, she was just some attractive looking rich girl wandering amongst a bunch of other attractive rich people.
Since that seemed to be the thing to do when one was rich.
“I don’t know what the hell either of you think is so wrong with her life as it is now, but okay,” he allowed, widening his eyes and shrugging his shoulders in an expression of disbelief. The silent “I think you’re both crazy” was pretty clear in the look.
“You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to. It’s just… I mean, sorry if I think it’s kind of a dumb idea, but then I obviously don’t know anything about her, so maybe there’s something I’m missing. As long as you’re not putting yourself in too much danger,” Paris said. He pulled his hand away gently and returned to tending to Chris’s arm, grabbing the bandages he’d previously set aside to begin covering the wound again.
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