Not at first, at least. Not when he'd been offered money to go to school on the west coast. It was one of those mildly surprising turns of fortune, because while he looked and acted thickheaded most of the time, Cu knew his way around formulas and charts and fish more naturally than most. He never thought about it much, and when the letters first showed up, he almost threw them away because he didn't want to muster the effort to figure out how things would go with a whole country between him and Diarmuid. It was easier to bum around spend the day on the local docks.
That's what he told Ferdia in one of those rare moments where he was online while Ferdia was mooching wifi from a coffee shop between sets. As older siblings are wont to do, Ferdia told Cu he was being a stupid dick, and who the fuck throws away free money and shit when it's just handed to you, and it's not like shit like the internet and airplanes and whatever didn't exist you stupid douchefuck.
Ferdia's an artist. Ferdia has a way with words. Especially the profane ones.
Ultimately Cu dug the letters out from his backpack and stared at them and after a while, everything those crumpled pieces of paper offered began to sound like something good. It took a lot of effort to remember the good when he finally broke the news to Diarmuid, especially when the sad, distant look on his face made Cu want to take everything back and laugh it all off like some dumb joke.
Maybe he let himself feel too guilty. Maybe that's why he began to feel like Diarmuid was being too needy and too absorbed in his own needs. It was something that Cu barely kept at bay, right up until the moment everything exploded in his face. He felt horrible when they first started yelling at one another, but the more he vented, the more he let the adrenaline and the frustration tell him that this was his chance to find the space and the freedom that he'd quietly begun to miss. By the time he threw his suitcase in the car and slammed the door, he'd convinced himself there wasn't any reason look back and regret anything.
The drive to the airport was a blur; the following days and weeks doubly so. He thought he was relieved at first, but the fast descent into more guilt, more anger, and more regret and uncertainty left him reeling. Looking back, he doesn't recall anything but the feeling of his fingers gripping his phone too tight, and the sound of the phone ringing on and on, unanswered.
He surrendered then, half to the fact that he'd fucked up something good, half to the fact that perhaps it was better off that way. The acknowledgement didn't make him feel much better, and without closure he settled into his new day-to-day mired in a sense of regret that he'd never cared enough to feel before. Irritable and unfocused, he drifted from class to class and from girl to girl with only a faint inkling as to what was really wrong with him.
The emails and texts were annoying at first, nothing more. After all, messages from Archer that read "stop being a jackass" or "you're just stupid as hell" weren't all that rare. As far as Cu was concerned, Archer was just as much of a jackass, and Arturia was overbearing, and mostly he just wanted to be left alone to his fish and his cigarettes and his sulking. May arrived without the stifling humidity of the east coast, and something about all the posters around campus reminding seniors to return their library books and finish their graduation paperwork made Cu think that if things had been a little different, he'd be going back east to see Diarmuid.
The thought punches him in the gut more than he expected, and perhaps it was another rare stroke of good fortune that Arturia chose that day to call. Cu's first instinct is to wave it all off and tell her that he's still over it, and that Diarmuid should try getting over it too.
What no one knew was that after he hung up, he kicked over a desk in the library, threw his phone at the wall, and stomped off to go pack a bag and buy a plane ticket.
By the time he pulls up to Diarmuid's apartment in the tiniest, junkiest rental car he could get his hands on, he's still not sure what the fuck he's doing. Cu sits in the car, watches Diarmuid close the front door behind him, and wonders if it's good enough closure, letting him drive off and then going home.
He almost wants to. He can't think of anything that he could say; there are no words in his head, only screaming, but the more he imagines it, the more pissed off he feels until finally he finds himself sliding out of the car and taking a few steps towards Diarmuid]
Re: BABBIES...
Not at first, at least. Not when he'd been offered money to go to school on the west coast. It was one of those mildly surprising turns of fortune, because while he looked and acted thickheaded most of the time, Cu knew his way around formulas and charts and fish more naturally than most. He never thought about it much, and when the letters first showed up, he almost threw them away because he didn't want to muster the effort to figure out how things would go with a whole country between him and Diarmuid. It was easier to bum around spend the day on the local docks.
That's what he told Ferdia in one of those rare moments where he was online while Ferdia was mooching wifi from a coffee shop between sets. As older siblings are wont to do, Ferdia told Cu he was being a stupid dick, and who the fuck throws away free money and shit when it's just handed to you, and it's not like shit like the internet and airplanes and whatever didn't exist you stupid douchefuck.
Ferdia's an artist. Ferdia has a way with words. Especially the profane ones.
Ultimately Cu dug the letters out from his backpack and stared at them and after a while, everything those crumpled pieces of paper offered began to sound like something good. It took a lot of effort to remember the good when he finally broke the news to Diarmuid, especially when the sad, distant look on his face made Cu want to take everything back and laugh it all off like some dumb joke.
Maybe he let himself feel too guilty. Maybe that's why he began to feel like Diarmuid was being too needy and too absorbed in his own needs. It was something that Cu barely kept at bay, right up until the moment everything exploded in his face. He felt horrible when they first started yelling at one another, but the more he vented, the more he let the adrenaline and the frustration tell him that this was his chance to find the space and the freedom that he'd quietly begun to miss. By the time he threw his suitcase in the car and slammed the door, he'd convinced himself there wasn't any reason look back and regret anything.
The drive to the airport was a blur; the following days and weeks doubly so. He thought he was relieved at first, but the fast descent into more guilt, more anger, and more regret and uncertainty left him reeling. Looking back, he doesn't recall anything but the feeling of his fingers gripping his phone too tight, and the sound of the phone ringing on and on, unanswered.
He surrendered then, half to the fact that he'd fucked up something good, half to the fact that perhaps it was better off that way. The acknowledgement didn't make him feel much better, and without closure he settled into his new day-to-day mired in a sense of regret that he'd never cared enough to feel before. Irritable and unfocused, he drifted from class to class and from girl to girl with only a faint inkling as to what was really wrong with him.
The emails and texts were annoying at first, nothing more. After all, messages from Archer that read "stop being a jackass" or "you're just stupid as hell" weren't all that rare. As far as Cu was concerned, Archer was just as much of a jackass, and Arturia was overbearing, and mostly he just wanted to be left alone to his fish and his cigarettes and his sulking. May arrived without the stifling humidity of the east coast, and something about all the posters around campus reminding seniors to return their library books and finish their graduation paperwork made Cu think that if things had been a little different, he'd be going back east to see Diarmuid.
The thought punches him in the gut more than he expected, and perhaps it was another rare stroke of good fortune that Arturia chose that day to call. Cu's first instinct is to wave it all off and tell her that he's still over it, and that Diarmuid should try getting over it too.
What no one knew was that after he hung up, he kicked over a desk in the library, threw his phone at the wall, and stomped off to go pack a bag and buy a plane ticket.
By the time he pulls up to Diarmuid's apartment in the tiniest, junkiest rental car he could get his hands on, he's still not sure what the fuck he's doing. Cu sits in the car, watches Diarmuid close the front door behind him, and wonders if it's good enough closure, letting him drive off and then going home.
He almost wants to. He can't think of anything that he could say; there are no words in his head, only screaming, but the more he imagines it, the more pissed off he feels until finally he finds himself sliding out of the car and taking a few steps towards Diarmuid]
...hey.