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 Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2016 8:23 pm
The storm continued to rage for a while longer through the night, before settling into a constant, but calming rain. It was still too dark and potentially dangerous to try and find a way through the wet and darkness until morning, so Michael and Caspian ended up sleeping where they’d taken shelter in an old boxcar that had been abandoned beside the tracks of an equally abandoned train station.
By the time the dawn came, which was early in the summer months, Michael had shifted down, away from the wall of the car so he could lay on his back. Caspian also seemed to have slumped over in his sleep, unable to remain seated for hours.
Whether it was just for warmth, or on purpose, Caspian somehow managed to wedge himself against Michael’s side, head on his shoulder and arm slung over his chest. Accident or not, it was definitely warmer than sleeping alone in the chilly morning air.
Michael figured he was the first to stir, his arm numb from lack of blood circulation, and his first instinct was to sit up and stretch. But when he realized Caspian was still asleep, he froze. For a few long moments he just stared down at the top of Caspian’s head of black hair, the strands falling in a way to reveal some of the purple and blue underneath.
Drawing in a breath that was hopefully not enough to wake him, Michael adjusted his free arm to rest behind his head, the arm that Caspian was laying on lifting to tentatively place on Caspian’s side. If he was asked, it was just an attempt to keep him warm. That was all. He still knew he wasn’t forgiven for his behavior the night before, so he would do whatever little things he could to try and make up for it.
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Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2016 8:36 pm
Most of the night was spent in a silence that felt almost as chilled as the rain outside, neither one of them really speaking much. At some point, Caspian had found himself dozing, jerked awake, and glanced over at Michael to find him with his head tilted to one side, eyes closed.
He looked less tense in sleep, Caspian had thought, before he'd drifted off again, reassured by the solid presence of Michael beside him.
He did not remember shifting in his sleep. Perhaps it had been an instinctive, automatic gesture, seeking out warmth in the cold, or maybe he'd just wanted the soothing familiarity of someone he'd grown attached to. Maybe it was simply the desire to remind Michael that it was okay to have someone other than himself in his life.
Whatever the reason, Caspian had curled himself against Michael's side, tucked on his side. One arm was bent against his chest, the other resting over Michael, and he was breathing slow, deep and even, black strands of hair falling messily across his face.
He was a heavy enough sleeper that Michael's quiet shifting did not wake him, but the chill morning air had seeped into him enough to make him stir. Caspian's eyes remained shut, but he eased himself a little closer, turning his head to bury his face into Michael's shoulder, arm tightening around him.
He became aware, in stages, of waking; of his eyes slowly opening, of the realization of what he was doing, where he was, who he was with coming drowsily one after the other. Caspian's breath seemed to catch in his throat, but he remained where he was, unwilling to let go of this warmth just yet.
Just a little longer, he thought, almost desperately, hoping Michael had not noticed him stir as he closed his eyes again. Just a few more minutes.
Because eventually Michael would remember what he'd said and done the night before, and the sleepy-warm spell would break.
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Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2016 8:59 pm
Michael, as much as he liked to try, didn’t think of himself as completely heartless. A jerk, yes. Someone who would rather be on their own than have to rely on someone else, or trust anyone else’s abilities, sure. But he did feel guilty for everything he did, even if he did them with the best intentions. Of course, best intentions weren’t always the right way to go about things.
He stared up at the spiderweb covered ceiling, now that he could see exactly where they were in the faint light of morning, his expression shifting to one of surprised disgust. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the graffiti all along the walls, as well as various burn marks where people had put their lighters up against the wood and metal.
Great. So he and Caspian probably slept in a hangout spot for local druggies. That made him even more concerned for his sock covered feet, because they could very well be laying in syringes and who knew what else.
But as much as he wanted to take in the full view of what hell hole they’d spent the night in, he didn’t want to move. Caspian had had enough problems in dealing with him the previous night, that remaining where he was and letting him sleep a little longer seemed like the only right thing to do.
That wasn’t to say he just layed there and did nothing. Gently, so as to hopefully not disturb him in his sleep, Michael brushed the tips of his fingers along Caspian’s side in what he hoped was a soothing motion. He moved along to his back, and then to his shoulder, before finally letting his fingers card through the black, purple, and blue hair that fell onto his chest and tickled his neck.
It was… Michael didn’t want to say nice, because he was sure Caspian would not be happy about this situation after being practically told to get lost, but it was… peaceful.
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Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2016 9:18 pm
It was a chilly, gray morning even with the watery sunlight that was starting to filter through the half closed door to the boxcar. The heavy rain had cooled down the summer heat, and left a cool breeze rifling through the metal contraption. That, combined with the early hour, left everything perpetually hazy and airy in a way that made Caspian, in only his shirt and sweats, automatically lean towards warmth, even with his long sleeves.
And Michael was an excellent source of warmth, not just physically, but mentally as well. Emotionally, Caspian thought drowsily, because it wasn't just this that made him feel comfortable. It was the fact that, in spite of last night, Michael had spent the last month making sure that Caspian was taken care of. Someone who had taken the time to stitch him up - literally - was not heartless or coldhearted, no matter what he said.
He felt Michael's hand shift, sliding along his waist, and then up his back. Something fluttered in Caspian's stomach, his chest feeling oddly tight, and then gentle fingers were smoothing through his hair, soft and simple, and the fluttering, confusing feeling grew stronger.
See? he thought desperately, See? You're kinder than you think you are. You care, I know you do.
But he couldn't say it. Anything he said would snap them out of the haze of this soothing, peaceful cocoon they were in, with Michael not pushing him away, his hand warm, fingers brushing lightly against his head or his neck with each sweep through his hair. That wall that Michael built around himself was temporarily down, his defenses lower, and all Caspian wanted to do was stay exactly like this.
They could not stay like this forever. He could not pretend that he was asleep forever, as much as he would have been content to do exactly that, wrapped in warmth and the solid, familiar form of Michael beside him.
Slowly, Caspian's eyes opened. He kept his arms where they were, one still tucked against his chest, the other across Michael's torso, and shifted his head back enough that he could lift his gaze, eyes searching for Michael's.
He said nothing, merely gave a little nod as though to say a wordless good morning.
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Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2016 9:28 pm
There were a lot of things Michael wish he had done better in his life. A better friend was one of them. A friend who didn’t take those around him for granted, despite however they might have joked and messed with each other. But those days were long past and he had nothing but a few stupid, awarded medals in a junk drawer of his kitchen to remind him.
It was more difficult than Caspian probably thought. How could someone be alone all the time and not need the company of others? It was easy when you were the only one left. But Caspian didn’t need to know that, and Michael wasn’t about to tell him.
His fingers continued to brush absently through his hair and down his shoulder and side, at least until he could feel Caspian shifting just slightly. Michael’s gaze shifted down to catch the small nod Caspian gave him, and he gave a small nod back. And then he went back to looking up at the ceiling. He obviously hadn’t had the chance to shave yet, so there was a little more than a shadow of stubble on his chin, jaw, and neck. After years in the military, it was uncomfortable for him to be out in public without being clean shaven, but right now he didn’t really have the choice.
And even though Caspian was obviously awake, Michael still moved his fingers gently along his side and back, hoping Caspian would realize he was trying to apologize for the night before. He didn’t bother saying anything just yet. Until Caspian decided to move and get up, he was surprisingly fine with just lying there.
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Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2016 9:42 pm
He felt, for a moment, a flicker of something that was almost panic as Michael turned to look at him, because Caspian wasn't entirely certain he was ready to be dismissed just yet. Of course Michael would not want him this close after last night - but the resolute side of Caspian was still stubbornly maintaining that he cared.
You don't do this if you don't care.
The small nod was enough. Caspian's eyes flickered across Michael's face before he looked away, searching for any indication of something else other than the towering walls he'd built, but there was nothing.
Nothing except the continued, gentle stroking of Michael's hand up and down his back, occasionally over his side. Caspian felt that same, strange fluttering sensation in his chest, and Michael wasn't looking at him - but the softness of the gesture was conveying more than words or looks at present. His gaze flickered across the light roughness of Michael's jawline, the shadow of scruff, blue eyes focused on the ceiling, not on Caspian. He had an odd desire to reach out and drift his fingers across that scruff, follow the line of it down Michael's chin.
Michael, who had not pushed him away yet. Michael who, Caspian knew instinctively, was awkwardly trying to give him some sort of comfort in spite of how things had turned out last night. Even with the frostiness between them, he was still trying to reassure.
Wordlessly, Caspian shifted, half turning, and pressed his face into the crook of Michael's neck, his arm sliding so that he could rest his hand on his chest. He knew it would not last long, but again, words weren't necessary; all that Caspian was trying to convey - gratitude, friendship, appreciation - were enveloped in the gesture, fingers curling loosely in the front of Michael's shirt.
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Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2016 10:00 pm
Michael tensed as Caspian shifted, but he didn’t move his hand away from where it was against his side, or try to stop Caspian from whatever he was trying to do. His arm was still pretty numb, but for some reason he was okay with that. If anything, he realized he wanted to make sure Caspian was okay before worrying about anything in regards to himself.
He’d been an a*****e the night before, he realized. It didn’t mean that he didn’t want Caspian to start looking for someone else to mentor him instead, convinced that this was only going to be a cycle of arguments for them since they were both stubborn, but he knew he was wrong in the way he’d treated him.
When Caspian pressed his face against his neck, Michael didn’t know what to do. He forgot to breathe for a few moments, but eventually started again. His hand had frozen against Caspian’s side, but as he held onto his shirt, Michael lifted his hand to place on top of Caspian’s head, brushing away the strands of black and blue and purple he knew had fallen into his face.
The gesture was… maybe more intimate than Michael anticipated, especially after the night before, but it wasn’t altogether bad. He just hoped Caspian didn’t expect more from him, because he didn’t think he had any more to give. Not beyond the gentle movement of his fingers through Caspian’s hair and down his neck at least.
At least not now. And part of him feared ever.
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Posted: Tue Jun 14, 2016 10:31 am
Caspian's life was not one filled with people close to him. A natural social butterfly, he gravitated towards them in general - talking and being around large groups had never bothered him before, and in fact, he felt entirely comfortable within them. He enjoyed being a part of things, enjoyed finding others to speak to.
But social did not mean close. He had friends, but the relationships were deliberately shallow, because Caspian had either not cared enough or he had not thought it possible or smart to make any deeper connections. Getting too close was bad, that's what he had always told himself.
Except -
- except he had not walked away from Sessrumnir, and he couldn't walk away from Michael now. That stubborn streak that ran through him wasn't just an attempt at holding onto something because of pride or out of a desire to prove something. Michael, in spite of everything, brought with him a sense of quiet reassurance that Caspian had not ever felt before. His personality meant they clashed, but that had been part of it for him; he hadn't felt this comfortable around someone in...he wasn't sure how long. Cassie was his sister and didn't count, and neither did his mother.
He felt Michael freeze as he shifted and wondered if he'd pushed too far - but then, after a moment, he felt him relax again, and that calm hand rose, resting in Caspian's hair. The fingers that smoothed through the dark strands were soothing and gentle, and Caspian felt something in his chest constrict.
His neck tingled beneath Michael's hand. Caspian's fingers curled in his shirt, then loosened, a breath escaping him, long and drawn out.
He could not stay like this forever, but -
"It doesn't feel lonely with you," he said quietly, so quietly it was barely audible, muffled against Michael's shoulder. "Just so you know."
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Posted: Tue Jun 14, 2016 5:39 pm
There were times Michael wished everything was easier; when it came to explaining himself, or understanding people’s intentions, or protecting those around him, or whatever. Michael liked to think of himself as someone who generally understood the way people worked.
People were selfish creatures who, no matter how good of a heart they had, were always in it for themselves. There were exceptions to this, of course, but it was human instinct to seek out what was best for oneself. Jobs, significant others, where they lived, their possessions; it was all a matter of surrounding oneself with familiar, wanted things.
So the words Caspian breathed against his neck should not have bothered him as much as it did. Something inside him twisted uncomfortably, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. Sympathy? Guilt? Realization?
All this time, Michael had been so concerned about himself, about what it would mean to allow someone to get close to him again that he, despite believing he was good at understanding people, had been blinded by his own selfishness.
It wasn’t as though Caspian was trying to be around him because he wanted anything from him other than companionship, apparently. And of course, Michael was the a*****e who basically told him to find someone else for companionship.
And yet, he didn’t know if he could give Caspian what he wanted. It might not be as lonely with him now, but eventually they would go their separate ways and that would be that.
There were worse things than just going separate ways.
The dark thought had him shifting uncomfortably, removing his hand from Caspian’s head, but before he could pull away, Michael adjusted his arm to place around his shoulders, pulling him closer as if to try and hug him while they lazed sleepily in the cool morning air.
Michael wished he could tell him why. Why it was so important that he kept Caspian away, kept everyone away. But even though he opened his mouth, the words never came out. He shut it after a couple failed attempts, continuing to stare up at the ceiling, and just kept his arm tight around Caspian.
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Posted: Tue Jun 14, 2016 6:20 pm
He didn't understand.
A part of him did. A part of him knew that whatever had happened in Michael's past had rendered him almost incapable of handling closer relationships than he was used to - and he also knew that whatever it was had also made him feel as though he somehow not a good person, for whatever reason that was.
But he also didn't understand the rest of it. Why, in spite of everything, Michael was still trying to keep him at arm's length. Why he was telling to go and find someone else to mentor him. Why Peter as well had told him not to get his hopes up, had told him not to expect anything.
Why he still was so damn stubborn about not leaving.
Caspian knew, at least somewhere inside, that at least part of it was that he had felt comfortable around Michael from the start, and he wanted to hold onto that comfort. Yet another part had stemmed from an initial desire just to poke and prod at him, but that had grown into a simple desire to see the man actually smile.
As Michael shifted his hand away, Caspian felt a wave of mixed disappointment and a startled, frustrating realization that he was finally being let go and pushed away, his eyes fluttering open. But before he could move, before he could even think, Michael had wrapped his arm around his shoulders and drawn him closer, into what was undeniably an embrace.
Caspian's lips were slightly parted in shock, eyes wide and stunned. For a moment, he thought he couldn't quite breathe; his chest felt absurdly tight, and that confusing fluttering sensation was back in his stomach.
When was the last time anyone had ever hugged him like this? There had been the few moments after his attack, but that hadn't been the same. This was different, in a way that made Caspian's throat feel like swallowing was difficult. His hand, still curled in the front of Michael's shirt, slid sideways until he'd wrapped his own arm around Michael's waist, and Caspian buried his face in his shoulder, holding on tightly.
For the first time, words failed him, translated instead into a silent embrace that said I don't want you to keep pushing me away in a myriad of different ways.
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Posted: Tue Jun 14, 2016 7:02 pm
This was stupid. Everything they were doing was stupid. The whole running into Caspian while he was out vandalizing property, and then running into him as Remus while he was injured and realizing it was Caspian because of some stupid slip. And then he was an a*****e to him and left him to wait for a cab. Then there was the whole run in where Remus made a good guess at who he was, and then the whole mentor thing and then Remus getting hurt and then…
Somewhere around then things must have spiraled out of control. Or maybe it was before that. Maybe it was their crossing paths in Negaspace that set this stupid… whatever it was in motion. Because now Michael didn’t know what to do, and although he’d been the one to try and get Caspian to leave and find someone else, he’d been too stupid to realize that it wasn’t about him, as much as he would like to make it about himself.
Maybe it was because he couldn’t picture someone like Caspian, who was usually so light and teasing and playful, to be lonely. But that wasn’t the case at all, and maybe Michael just didn’t understand Caspian any better than Caspian understood him. And it was their own faults. They were both so stubborn.
Why him though? What was so different about Michael that made Caspian want to stubbornly hold on and allow him to say such horrible things to him? Why wouldn’t he back off like everyone else?
It wasn’t very long after Caspian had his arm around Michael’s waist, that he finally pushed himself up, and against his better judgement, wrapped both arms around Caspian before he could pull away. This whole thing was stupid, and he couldn’t stop himself from wanting almost desperately for Caspian to not feel the same loneliness that he felt, although he would be hard pressed to admit it.
He held on tightly, although he was cautious of Caspian’s back even though it was hopefully mostly healed by now. And as much as he wanted to apologize, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything, because although he didn’t want Caspian to feel lonely, he was also still very wary about what his own role was in all this.
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Posted: Tue Jun 14, 2016 7:44 pm
Looking back on the whole ordeal, it felt ridiculous. Caspian did not believe in fate or destiny or any such nonsense like that, as much as he joked about it and as much as he teased everyone he knew about it - including Michael. But he had met Sessrumnir first during the invasion into Negaspace and then, completely coincidentally, had run into him while they were both civilians, only to find out that they were one in the same person after a series of more coincidental encounters. Either the universe was playing one cosmic joke on him, or things were just working out - in a way that Caspian had not expected.
So far, their friendship - because he held onto that - was a series of give and take, mostly with each of them pushing constantly at the other, each stubbornly refusing to give up. There was no give and take this time - it was simply sheer willpower, because Michael believed one thing and Caspian another, and they were at a standstill.
One of them would inevitably have to break, and Caspian did not want it to be him.
He felt Michael shift, push himself up into a sitting position, and the movement pulled Caspian along with him so that he was kneeling beside him. He started to draw back, sure it was an attempt at getting away - but again, he was brought into a stunned silence as Michael wrapped his arms around him securely. His own hovered for a moment, too startled to move; but then Caspian slid his own around Michael's neck and held on just as tightly.
Maybe it was because Michael, in spite of his air of casualness, his constant affirmations that he was doing just fine, was in all actuality just as lonely as Caspian could be. Hadn't Peter said that he didn't really have any other friends? So why, then, was he so adamant about pushing him away?
Why would he choose loneliness when here Caspian was, offering him friendship?
His heart seemed to expand in his chest as he knelt there beside Michael, holding onto him; a confusing, hazy sensation that he didn't have the mindset to think about. Caspian thought perhaps he was overthinking things- but it seemed as though Michael needed the reassurance as much as he was trying to give it.
Maybe the point of this all was that they were both just trying to figure out how to keep moving forward and neither of them knew how to do it.
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Posted: Tue Jun 14, 2016 8:53 pm
Michael wished that he could say that he couldn’t remember the last time he hugged someone like this, but that wasn’t the case, and it made him only hold onto Caspian tighter, his fingers digging into the fabric of his longsleeved shirt as he squeezed his eyes shut.
Caspian had his arms around his neck, and Michael shook his head to try and give him some kind of signal that he was fine, that he didn’t want to be asked why, or what was going on. He just wanted to hold onto this lonely, kind young man, not realizing how much he needed to soak in some of the warmth and comfort that came from someone being there to offer it.
“I’m sorry,” he finally breathed, although it probably sounded as though it took some effort, his face buried against Caspian’s shoulder. It wasn’t that he wasn’t sorry, but to say that after everything he’d done? He didn’t expect Caspian to forgive him so easily, and he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven even if he did.
The walls weren’t entirely down, but he was sure Caspian could tell that they were breaking, especially now that he’d pulled him into a tight embrace. What it meant, he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. He just knew that, for one reason or another, he needed it at that moment. He didn’t know if it would ever happen again, or if this one gesture would be enough to last him another seven or more years, but at this moment, he was glad Caspian was so stubborn that he stuck around.
“I don’t want you to be lonely,” he finally admitted after searching for what to say for the past half hour. And it was probably pretty hypocritical that he didn’t want Caspian to be alone, but he wanted that for himself. But right now, he didn’t care. He just held on as tight as he could without actually hurting him, drawing from him the surprising show of acceptance for him that Caspian had.
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Posted: Tue Jun 14, 2016 9:12 pm
His back gave the slightest twinge as Michael tightened his grasp, but it wasn't nearly enough to make Caspian pull away. He could feel the shake of his head, the wordless desire for him to just stay there in silence; but even if Michael had said I'm fine, he wouldn't have let go, not yet.
"I'm sorry."
A ripple of something like - shock, perhaps? - went through Caspian, his eyes opening. He felt the slightest of tremors, and knew instinctively that the apology was part of something else - that there was something shifting in Michael, whether it was those walls he had so deliberately and so carefully spent building up coming down, or something different, he wasn't sure. But Michael had not pushed him away yet - in fact, he'd held on tighter, and it was like a dam that was slowly but surely cracking through its foundation.
"I don't want you to be lonely."
What was it that he'd said the night before?
What if I just don't want you around me anymore?
The words still stung. Caspian did not loosen his grasp.
"Then let me stay," he said quietly, and his throat felt rusty from disuse, everything unsaid clogging up his mind. "And let yourself stay, too."
You need me, he thought, but did not say. And I need you.
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Posted: Tue Jun 14, 2016 9:21 pm
Michael shook his head again, but he didn’t let go. Not yet. This shouldn’t be what he wanted. He shouldn’t want so actually let this work, to let Caspian close, only to have something happen to him. It was bad enough when he’d almost been killed, twice. From what he knew at least. There were probably more times that Caspian hadn’t told him, and he didn’t blame him with how he tended to react.
“I don’t know if I can,” he tried to explain, although he knew it was going to be difficult for him to understand without any details or reasons. He couldn’t give those, even if Caspian asked for them. There just wasn’t anything for him to offer as further explanation to his apparently irrational desire to keep people away from him.
His family was involved. That was bad enough already. He didn’t need more casualties on the list. He didn’t need Caspian’s death on his conscious. It had taken long enough for him to pull himself back out of the darkness he’d found himself in before.
Although, if he were honest with himself, over the past few years, after the kidnappings and dreams and everything, Michael realized he’d been falling into the same old patterns he’d been in before. Last time, becoming a knight had saved him.
Except this time he was already a knight.
He knew it was why Peter moved in with him, regardless of what his brother said. Or maybe that was what he said, he didn’t know. But he knew he probably needed help, but also knew there wasn’t anything anyone could really do.
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