[His face in Cu's mind's eye should be blurry, and the name should feel foreign on his tongue, but even though Cu knows that it's been ten years, he just can't manage to feel that distance.
After all, he isn't the sort of guy who regrets often, and he isn't the sort to pine. There's no hesitation when he throws a friendly arm over Diarmuid's shoulder and no sense that anything has changed between them after all this time. It's simpler, after all, to simply let people linger in stasis in his memory.
Not to say that he didn't miss Diarmuid -- he did, terribly so sometimes, and he wagers that's why it doesn't feel strange to call his name: because he had to ask where his friend had gotten off to, and where he could find him. The failure never bothered him too much, of course. He could always look again another day, and Diarmuid was a sensible person who wouldn't just up and die.]
[His heart skips when Cu puts his arm around him, and for the briefest moment his stunned expression is entirely genuine. The feeling of simple joy is a faded, nearly forgotten memory. It's a drop of neon paint on a screen that's been tinted darker and darker with time.
Honestly, it makes him uncomfortable. In the blink of an eye he ferrets it out, smears it around until it's a discordant blank-tinged streak in his vision. Something that pure is not allowed to exist within him, after all. Not anymore.
That's better, he thinks. Happiness is the slick of blood on his hands and the stabbing pain of the cracked rib a woman gave him just last week, right before he stuffed her mouth with the heart of her child. Hope is the adrenaline rush when he thinks of his teeth on Cu's throat. Those other things, those sunny days of smiles and laughter are fragile creations of spun sugar -- they'll crumble with a touch, so it's best to leave them lined up locked in their china cabinet where they won't be tainted by the sludge.
After that he smiles, the face that belongs to someone beautiful lighting up in recognition as he punches Cu playfully in the arm.]
I'm perfect. And I see you haven't drowned quite yet!
A guy like me can't afford to drown, I've got too much other shit to worry about.
[He's happy. Really happy. And excited in the sort of way that makes him want to just turn to Diarmuid and ask him to drop everything and come along with him right now, like they should have done from the beginning.
Not that he'd do it right now, even he has more of a filter than that, but the bright enthusiasm in his expression is impossible to miss.]
[He laughs, chipper and pleased as he leans into Cu.
"I've missed you", his expression says. "It's great to see you."
Internally, he's immediately irritated. Of course Cu has "other shit to worry about". And yet he's been gone all this time. He wonders if his disappearance was a thing to worry about. Even if it was, it obviously wasn't enough.
In his mind, he's imagining blood spilling from Cu's lips as he kisses them. In reality, he acts as if nothing has changed in 10 years]
Fine, better than that. Pretty awesome -- what the hell have you been doing?
[Going back and not finding Diarmuid waiting was tough, enough to make Cu regret his choices for a moment. But Cu doesn't dwell, because it's easier that way.]
Nothing terribly interesting. After father passed, I returned to my original parents and studied. I'm afraid I haven't been able to become a knight after all, but I'm doing well for myself.
[He doesn't resist being pulled along, though he does have to suppress the urge to suddenly break Cu's arm. It's simply habit to react violently to anyone even hinting at controlling his movements.]
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streetwalkers2012-11-07 01:37 am
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[His face in Cu's mind's eye should be blurry, and the name should feel foreign on his tongue, but even though Cu knows that it's been ten years, he just can't manage to feel that distance.
After all, he isn't the sort of guy who regrets often, and he isn't the sort to pine. There's no hesitation when he throws a friendly arm over Diarmuid's shoulder and no sense that anything has changed between them after all this time. It's simpler, after all, to simply let people linger in stasis in his memory.
Not to say that he didn't miss Diarmuid -- he did, terribly so sometimes, and he wagers that's why it doesn't feel strange to call his name: because he had to ask where his friend had gotten off to, and where he could find him. The failure never bothered him too much, of course. He could always look again another day, and Diarmuid was a sensible person who wouldn't just up and die.]
It's been forever, how are you, man?!
no subject
Honestly, it makes him uncomfortable. In the blink of an eye he ferrets it out, smears it around until it's a discordant blank-tinged streak in his vision. Something that pure is not allowed to exist within him, after all. Not anymore.
That's better, he thinks. Happiness is the slick of blood on his hands and the stabbing pain of the cracked rib a woman gave him just last week, right before he stuffed her mouth with the heart of her child. Hope is the adrenaline rush when he thinks of his teeth on Cu's throat. Those other things, those sunny days of smiles and laughter are fragile creations of spun sugar -- they'll crumble with a touch, so it's best to leave them lined up locked in their china cabinet where they won't be tainted by the sludge.
After that he smiles, the face that belongs to someone beautiful lighting up in recognition as he punches Cu playfully in the arm.]
I'm perfect. And I see you haven't drowned quite yet!
no subject
[He's happy. Really happy. And excited in the sort of way that makes him want to just turn to Diarmuid and ask him to drop everything and come along with him right now, like they should have done from the beginning.
Not that he'd do it right now, even he has more of a filter than that, but the bright enthusiasm in his expression is impossible to miss.]
Good to see you're not looking too bad yourself.
no subject
[He laughs, chipper and pleased as he leans into Cu.
"I've missed you", his expression says. "It's great to see you."
Internally, he's immediately irritated. Of course Cu has "other shit to worry about". And yet he's been gone all this time. He wonders if his disappearance was a thing to worry about. Even if it was, it obviously wasn't enough.
In his mind, he's imagining blood spilling from Cu's lips as he kisses them. In reality, he acts as if nothing has changed in 10 years]
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[Going back and not finding Diarmuid waiting was tough, enough to make Cu regret his choices for a moment. But Cu doesn't dwell, because it's easier that way.]
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[Baw, he really is glad to see that Diarmuid is okay. >:]
Hey, why don't we go grab a drink or something! You've got enough time for me, right?
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[Arm still around Diarmuid's shoulder, he turns and drags him off in that rough but friendly manner he's always had.]
There's this bar I found last time I was around here, and all the ladies there are nice. It'll be fun.
no subject
Always the troublemaker...