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 Posted: Wed Apr 12, 2017 8:27 am
Malcolm glanced at his phone for the third time in less than a minute; it had been too silent and that always made him suspect the worst. He hadn’t had visitors beyond Cambria—but she’d been the one he’d called to help him when he really needed it. She’d seen him worse than this, so every time she visited she got to say ‘You’re looking better’.
Everyone else, though. He’d told everyone on his contact list that he was sick.
Which probably would have made more sense if he’d only been sick for a week or two, but he was pushing it now at three weeks and he knew people were getting suspicious. It was just easier to pretend like you had a really bad immune system instead of, you know. A broken nose, a broken arm, some broken ribs. The concussion had healed but he’d had to get a pair of glasses to help him focus his vision. The scrapes and lacerations were nasty but healing, at least.
He just looked like a mess. He had friends in his life that he couldn’t explain what had happened to him, and friends in his life who would have understood but he felt too ashamed to tell them.
Colin was definitely among the latter, and he could only hope that he’d just been teasing about intending to drop by with a care package. He checked his phone again, waiting for an ‘lol jk I don’t want to get sick’ message but it hadn’t come and he was starting to feel like he should push himself up and clean his room.
He was a private person; even his own room did little to betray his privacy. His bookshelves were full with all sorts of texts; he had a desk by the window. His laptop was in bed next to him and the television was on some show he only had on for background noise. He had a wall of blankets and pillows and was carefully propped up. His room wasn’t dirty but there was a certain level of disorganization that was unexpected for him.
He figured he had a good reason for not maintaining his room, but he still felt embarrassed for his condition.
And his phone was still silent.
Reluctantly, he started texting again; he was running out of believable lies and he was pretty sure that Colin wasn’t going to fall for anything but he was going to try. ‘I’ve got a headache so I was thinking I might take a nap. I’ll talk to you later?’
Right? That worked? He pressed ‘send’ before he could talk himself out of it, but before he could put his phone down he was trying to think of something else to add.Syrie Sorry this took so long, let me know if it is okay ;v;
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Posted: Tue Jun 27, 2017 7:20 am
Being a senshi - and a ballet dancer - Colin was well used to injuries and illness (more the former than the latter as his immune system was generally up to the job of keeping him well), both those of his own and those of the people around him. So when Malcolm had said he was sick - via text - the danseur had respected that he wanted to get well without visitors; he'd merely sent a few texts the first week and a half, letting his friend know that if he needed anything, Colin would be happy to help. But as time went on with his friend consistently making excuses to not have company while generally being kind of sketchy, Colin began to suspect that something Worse was up. And so he put together a care package to deliver in person, a picnic basket full of homemade potato and leek soup, saltines, ginger ale (pretentious as possible, because it was funnier that way), and a fidget spinner. Colin texted Malcolm that he was coming over from inside his parked car, wondering a bit if the words would cause panic or pleasure - if he truly were sick, then it should be the latter. But if his friend were hiding something, then likely the former and another text or twelve should be coming through. As he drove, the phone pinged with a new message - a message he didn't read until he was stopped at a light. "A headache, huh? We'll see." Colin chuckled and set his phone back down to concentrate on the drive to Malcolm's home. When he got to his friend's door, he sent a text 'I'm at your door', hit send, and then knocked after he'd shoved the phone into his jacket pocket. The danseur's hair was squished under a dark beanie, hands full of a basket with goodies, wearing a pair of galaxy print leggings with an over-size cream shirt under a short jacket. "Housekeeping!" Colin was aggressively cheerful, as per usual. Kyuseisha no Hikari No, I'm sorry. SO SLOW ;w;
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Posted: Fri Jun 30, 2017 9:26 pm
The text absolutely horrified Malcolm, who stared at it for a full thirty seconds before he realized that Colin was at his door. He only had a small handful of options, and he was already too guilty about Colin being here that pretending like he was asleep probably wasn’t one of them.
…Especially because if he didn’t answer, Malcolm wasn’t so sure there was anything that would stop him from just climbing up the tree by his window and letting himself in.
Getting downstairs wasn’t something Malcolm wanted to risk; he was slow and clumsy and the last thing he wanted to do was wind up in a broken heap at the foot of the stairs. Instead, he reluctantly texted Colin, ‘You can come in; there’s a key under the fat squirrel statue if it’s locked.’
And then he braced himself, because the door to his room was open and Colin knew where to find him, and all he could think to do was try to come up with some quick excuse or some made-up disease that just looked like someone had beaten the crap out of you.
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Posted: Tue Jul 04, 2017 10:21 am
Already Colin was eyeballing the domicile for climbable trees - one way or another, Malcolm was going to have a sunshine-smiling house guest! But then a text came through that he ought to let himself in. Well, he may actually be sick, if he can't come let me in.. The danseur tried the door, found it locked, and fetched the key from under the fat squirrel statue where Malcolm said it would be. "Thanks, Mr. Squirrel. I'll give Malc your regards." He unlocked the door, set the key back where he'd found it, and then patted the statuary on it's cute little resin head before stepping into the house. There was no guide needed, Colin was versed in where his friend's room was - it too no time at all for him to go from front door to upstairs to Malcolm's room with his basket of goodies. Which he would foist on the invalid the moment he was able. "Hey handsome! I hope you're feeling better, I brought you--" Colin's cheerful prattle fell off as he took in the state of his friend; this was no household virus, there was none that made you look like you'd gone a few rounds with a handicapped Tyson. His expression shifted several times between concern, worry, anger, and dismay before settling on something stern-but-concerned. Now he was certain the basket was undeserved, but he'd already handed it over, so it was too late to take it back or even to beat him over the head with it. Over the basket that had been placed on Malcolm's lap, Colin leveled his best Disapproving Dad look. "You're not sick, you got your a** kicked. Malc, what the hell? Why didn't you tell me?"
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Posted: Wed Jul 05, 2017 12:20 am
Malcolm was wearing a guilty expression even before Colin entered the room. His lips were pursed and his brows furrowed and he hadn’t even tried to look up when he entered the room.
He didn’t move, partially hoping that if he stayed still enough that maybe Colin wouldn’t see him. It hadn’t worked, but he had hoped.
For a moment after Colin spoke, Malcolm said nothing. He had always been an emotional person, and this wasn’t any different. Lying hadn’t been easy, and getting caught in a lie wasn’t any easier. Colin was mad, and he had a right to be, but it didn’t stop the shame and guilt from bubbling up in Malcolm.
He told himself not to cry, because this was already bad enough, and while nothing fell from his eyes he made sure to keep his eyes down just in case.
His throat was burning for a good few seconds before he could muster up the willpower to speak. When he finally managed a few words, his voice was soft and trembled. “It wasn’t important,” he tried to argue, but it was a poor argument and he knew it so he added, “There wasn’t any difference. I’m stuck in bed either way. I didn’t—is it really that big of a deal?”
He didn’t sound convinced; he sounded like he was pleading and desperate for it to be true. Already he was struggling with the conversation; he’d spent so long being vague and trying to avoid this situation that when confronted with it, everything just spilled out. When he started speaking again he just sounded frantic. “I was ashamed, I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know. I was in the hospital, the police were there—my brother—it was just really complicated. I just wanted to go home, I just wanted things to be normal. Things can’t be normal if everyone’s coming over and telling me how awful I look, and reminding me that I messed up. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want to let you down. I’m sorry, Colin.”
Malcolm had to catch his breath; he was talking too quickly and seemed to be aware of that. If there was more he had to say, he managed to smother the words before they erupted. He couldn’t, however, silence the weak, “Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry.”
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Posted: Thu Jul 06, 2017 11:13 am
The fact that his friend had such a guilty, hang-dog expression from the start and wouldn't meet Colin's eyes was both annoying and saddening. It spoke loudly that Malcolm knew he should have contacted the danseur, that he understood that Colin would have been there for him without judgement....but also that his own personal hang-ups had kept the injured man from speaking of the encounter and results accurately. The hell does he think its not a big deal that he got mauled? Did he think I wouldn't care? Colin had his answer shortly after, Malcolm's voice quiet and low, 'I was ashamed, I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know.' and 'I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want to let you down. I’m sorry.' His words took the heat right out of Colin, who moved the basket further to the end of the bed so that he could pick Malcolm up in his own bed and fold himself around the blond. By the time Colin was done moving his friend around, He was sitting up with his back against the head of the bed, Malcolm pressed against his chest like a parent might hold a child. The danseur was carding gentle fingers through Malcolm's hair to soothe him, "I wish you'd come to me, Malc. I don't know what I've done to make you think I'd be let down. You were hurt, it happens. I've got so many scars..." He sighed and rested his chin atop the other blond's head and put both arms around Malcolm again, "If this happens again, tell me." "I care about you, okay? I can help, even if it's just like...bringing you new books or helping you get a bath."
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Posted: Sun Jul 09, 2017 12:04 am
Malcolm had not known what to expect when Colin moved into the bed; his mind instinctively expected the worst and he prepared for some sort of pain—and he didn’t know why. Colin hadn’t ever hurt him and yet, with a guilty mind, it was all he could anticipate. A hug felt out of place and immediately after he realized what Colin was doing he felt even more ashamed of expecting anything but comfort.
His face was red, already from just the blood rushing to his face from confrontation; he was embarrassed—a natural state—but the closeness was reassuring in a way he wasn’t often able to just accept and enjoy. He held his breath for a few seconds, trying to calm himself before his body betrayed him. He tried to control his breathing, control his heart, control his emotions.
He was bad at all of them, but he tried.
He didn’t pull away; instead, he almost seemed to lean into the touch. “I’m doing okay with getting my own baths,” he mumbled under his breath, probably trying to get the most embarrassing thing out of the way before the images of it ate him up.
“I’m sorry,” he said, just a little louder. “I know you care, I know you can help. I’m not good at talking about my problems, you know that. And—I knew I was going to heal, after I got out of the hospital, I just…”
His voice died on his lips, suddenly; he fell quiet. None of his words conveyed what he wanted to say and he didn’t want to make this worse.
“I’ll tell you,” he promised, “I just don’t know how to talk about it. I was going to heal, it was going to go away, everything was going to be fine. I was just supposed to lay low and then everything was going to be okay. I’ll tell you next time, but please don’t be mad at me. I’m bad at this, I hate talking about myself. I hate when I mess up. I’m sorry.”
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Posted: Tue Jul 25, 2017 2:03 am
Colin had no idea that Malcolm had been concerned about the possibility that he might be harmed, but it would have saddened him greatly if he had. Instead all he felt was the stiffness of his friend against his chest, then the way Malcolm seemed to crumple into his arms, soaking up the contact and open affection that the danseur offered. The quiet comment about bathing brought a smile to Colin's lips and he couldn't help dropping a kiss to the top of his golden head. "I know, it's okay." His arms tightened around Malcolm's body, "Even if you can take care of yourself, even if you're gonna be fine...I care. So. You better tell me, okay?" Poor guy, was so clumsy with himself and with interpersonal relationships. But that was alright, Colin was more than up to the task of bridging those gaps. "I'm not angry, but seeing you hurt and not knowing...that scared me. We're supposed to have each other's backs, right? I've got you." And barring Schorl finally deciding to keep him as a caged pet, he'd always try to be there. Malcolm would learn it, eventually. Learn that Colin could get angry but it was usually out of love and concern and a deep-seated need to protect those he cared for. If Quenton could, then so could Malcolm.
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Posted: Tue Aug 01, 2017 5:18 pm
Malcolm didn’t mind the kisses; he even liked them, probably a little more than he should. He hadn’t ever been starved for affection and yet he craved the little things.
He relaxed against Colin easily. “I just thought that being sick and being told I need bedrest and healing were basically the same thing,” he sighed. “If I had been a better liar, you wouldn’t have had to come over and check on me, and you would have thought I just had a really bad case of mono or something, probably.”
But chances were he wasn’t going to get much better at lying; he might have been a storyteller, but he struggled to tell someone anything but the truth when looking into their eyes. Or texting, even, apparently.
“But…if I get hurt, I’ll let you know,” he promised. “But you have to promise not to worry too much or freak out, okay? I don’t want you to think I’m not doing an okay job of being a Senshi. I just—I just ran into a really powerful, really angry General and I wasn’t expecting it to be so bad.” Reluctantly, he admitted, “I thought he was going to kill me. I didn’t know there were people out there that hated Senshi so much. But I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I promise.”
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Posted: Sat Oct 14, 2017 12:27 am
Colin wanted to tell Malcolm that they were not the same things in the slightest, but that would have been a lie and he was generally an honest person - they were basically the same things, but with some measure of difference in how others reacted. And in measure of import, really. So instead he just continued to smooth the blond's hair while holding him against his chest - at least, until the comment about being a better liar. That made him shift their positions so he could force Malcolm's chin up, get them eye to eye again, his expression grave. "Don't." Colin's voice was low and serious once more, "Trust is really important. If you feel like you can't tell me something, I'd rather you said that than lied to me. Promise me you won't." Granted, Colin was actually pretty trusting of what people told him - it had been a much bigger problem when he'd been younger, actually - but years of fighting the Negaverse in Destiny City had actually taught him to be a bit more discerning so he didn't blindly believe everything he was told anymore). He accepted the promise that he'd be informed when his friend was hurt and hugged Malcolm back to his chest with a harrumph even as he acquiesced. "I won't freak out, I'm kind of used to injuries and stuff because of the ballet. I might worry though, but I'll do my best, since you're gonna do your best too." No longer was his voice pitched low with that oh-so-serious tone; Colin's aspect had returned to his more typical sunshine-and-smiles bent. "Hey, it happens! There are some really nasty Negas out there. I know you're capable, Malc. I do. "There are just some that are...a whole other level of awful. I've met a couple myself and it never goes well." Colin lifted his right hand so that Malcolm could see the raised scar he'd been left with from his encounter with Schörl, "I told you about how I got this...sometimes, it doesn't matter how strong you are, there's always a chance you could have a bad day or something." Colin sighed softly into his friend's soft hair snaking his left arm around the youth's waist in a protective manner, "So that's why we have to watch out for each other's backs, okay?" It was also why he tried to help train anyone that was interested, why he was willing to help any that wanted or needed him...and why he had often offered to trade himself for another in the past. Not always the brightest of ideas, but...well, sometimes you just had to act even if your plan wasn't the best.
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Posted: Fri Oct 27, 2017 2:15 am
Malcolm curled against Colin easily despite the fact that in doing so his cheeks flushed pink. He was self-conscious and worried about doing or saying something ridiculous or embarrassing. He didn’t have the confidence to play it off smoothly, so instead he just let Colin do what he wanted and adjusted himself accordingly.
He was happy to have the lighthearted Colin back; the low and serious tone made him uncomfortable and made him feel guilty. Which, he figured he deserved, but it didn’t make it any easier to handle. His heart was still pounding, either out of the sheer stress of it or just because Colin had been so close. He drew in a slow and steady breath, trying to force his body to go back to normal.
“I trust you,” he murmured; it was true, but even now he couldn’t figure out why he was so afraid of the truth. In the end, it wasn’t Colin, it was him. It was like every injury, every insecurity, every flaw had to be carefully concealed. He wasn’t perfect and he didn’t claim to be, but admitting that he’d been injured meant that he had to deal with the emotional repercussions—and he was still having nightmares about the General who had attacked him. He’d have rather pretended like the whole thing didn’t happen, pretended like he was just sick, than risk making things seem more real by talking about them.
But, they were real, and even if he was honest about them or not, he was still going to have to live with them.
His eyes lifted to Colin’s face and he chewed on his lip for short second. “I’ll have to show you my scars, sometime,” he suggested, “After they heal up a bit more. If you promise not to make fun of me because I’m not as in shape as you are. And, I’ll be especially out of shape because I spend most of my time in bed right now, anyway. When I get a little healthier, can you help me with that? I could use some more training, if you have time? I know I have to go back out there sometime. When I’m in one piece, again. I just. I want to make sure that this,” he raised his cast-wrapped arm and nodded towards the rest of his body, still hidden beneath the blanket, “Doesn’t happen again. If I can help it, I mean. I want to get stronger so I have less bad days. I think I’ve hit my quote for a while.”
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Posted: Sat Nov 11, 2017 9:48 am
They all had their hangups and issues, it was inevitable with what they were forced to go through - all the lies to friends and family that weren't part of the War, the questions, the way everything changed. How hard it was to have anything resembling a 'normal' life once they became senshi or knights, the relationships lost or flat-out torn apart because the factions were incompatible. Life and death and love and hate all twisted up, there was no escaping such things in a war. Colin knew all of this, he understood nightmares and pain and scars that burned. Which was why trust was so important. And why they needed to know they could trust and rely on one another, if nothing else. That was a strength they could count on, when there was nothing else. "I promise I won't make fun - it wouldn't even cross my mind! We can even swap scar stories, I've got some doozies." Colin laughed and pressed a fond kiss to Malcolm's forehead to smooth some of the worried lines away in much the same way his own mother hand done for him so many times, though he wasn't sure it would work or not - his friend was a chronic ball of anxiety. "When you're feeling better, we'll get you back into shape, okay? And don't worry about a little pudge Malc, I was out for half a year after I tried to fly a flaming dragon kite in Negaspace. That was like, the worst idea ever. Almost cost me my career! "But trust me, if I can come back from that, we'll get you healthy and back on track. You can count on me."
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Posted: Sat Dec 02, 2017 7:21 am
The kiss drew a smile to Malcolm’s face; it was an effective tactic to ease away his nearly constant worry. Even that relief was short lived, though; his brows almost immediately creased as he listened to Colin’s story.
His eyes narrowed slightly and he seemed to be sifting through something in his mind. “In Negaspace?” he asked after a long second. His eyes found Colin’s once more and he seemed partially alarmed and partially impressed. “When that alien opened a portal to the Negaverse, and we all went in and raided it? That was you?”
He shifted positions so he could sit up; it wasn’t exactly comfortable, but the topic warranted his full attention. “…I think I have a video of you on it. I’ll have to check my phone when I power up again. That was dangerous! What possessed you to do that—what were you even doing up there?”
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Posted: Mon Dec 11, 2017 1:42 pm
Malcolm had been soothed for only a short while, his own story the cause of the building alarm and incredulity in the other man's expression. Oops It seemed that Colin had chosen precisely the wrong story to tell this time. "Oh...um, yes. That was me." At least, he supposed that the figure Malcolm was speaking of - the one he'd connected from Colin's own story about the flaming Negaspace dragon and his glowing rope - was him. Aegir. Video!? Now that would be truly interesting to see! Colin laughed a bit, mostly because he didn't know what else to do - the whole raid on the Citadel had been a horrible idea, and one that he'd not wanted to participate in. Aegir had only been present because two of his teammates had run headlong into the fray without consulting him, and another had shown up nearly dead and so badly injured that he'd made Aegir's own seem like face paint from a circus midway. "I was thinking that I had to do something...and that height would help. If I could slow the damn thing down, well...maybe someone else could really hit it. My magic's really meant for support, you know. It just didn't work out that way." At all. In fact, he'd ended up toasty because the stupid dragon thing had set itself aflame like the Human Torch's demonic pet...never mind the hole through his body from being pierced by the crystalline tail spikes. "Didn't work at all, really. Nothing about that raid worked the way it should have - we were woefully under-prepared. It was horrible, a giant loss. I think we all lost something in there. The most we gained were scars, probably." Colin leaned back a bit and tapped his right hip, "I got stabbed by that dragon thing's tail. Got a nasty scar here. Wanna see?" Serious as the injury had been, the danseur couldn't help it now: he winked.
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Posted: Mon Jan 15, 2018 8:52 am
Malcolm watched him suspiciously for a few seconds before he slunk back down into a relaxed posture, and repositioned himself so he was a little more comfortable lying on the bed again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I brought home some cool souvenirs, too. I’ll show you when I feel like getting up. I didn’t know if it would ever be of use or anything, some of the things I picked up.”
…But after that night, he’d sort of just shoved them in a box and forgotten about them until just now.
Malcolm had missed the wink initially though, and out of sheer curiosity had moved just slightly to focus his attention to where Colin had tapped. “I want to see your scar.”
One second passed. Two.
Malcolm’s face turned red on the third and his eyes darted up to Colin’s face, away from his hip, when he registered what seeing the scar would entail. “No, I mean. I take it back, I don’t want to see it. I don’t need my mom walking in with your pants off. I’ll just imagine it.”
One second passed. Two.
“That’s not what I meant.”
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