Normally screams are okay! When he gets into the groove of killing people he even enjoys them. But sudden loud noises are always terrifying, so even at the best of times it's a careful manic balance between fear and bloodlust.
Right now he's just upset and unstable, and suddenly recoils. In a moment he's across the room, cowering in the corner as if he's the one injured.]
[He can't think of anything to say. He's hallucinating so many things that keep morphing and changing that he has no idea how to process them. There's shrieking in his head telling him to die, telling him to kill, telling him to hate and love and cut and cling and it all adds up to something overwhelming.
He's terrified, and normally he'd down it in indulgent violence. If he does what the voices tell him to, they quiet down. But at the core of him he knows he doesn't want Cu to die, so instead he struggles. And then of course struggling hurts, so he's quickly spiraling into hysterics all by himself.]
[On a better day, Cu would be able to remind himself that Diarmuid is crazy, that he doesn't mean it, that he can't control himself, but Cu is fed up, and the last thing he wanted was to be stabbed again. And he's not handling it particularly well]
Oh come on, you knew that would happen. I don't like being stabbed, you know? Do you even know how much it fucking hurts?
He can't listen to Cu and deal with everything else at once. It hurts and it's confusing and he's a mass of fear and the sensation of being lost. All he knows how to do is shake his head and clamp his hands over his ears.]
[He tenses, finally deciding to yank the knife out. He takes off his shirt, balls it up, and hisses as he yanks the knife out and presses the cloth to his thigh. The knife is dropped next to him, within reach, and it takes Cu a moment to collect himself before finally speaking]
I know it's not your fault. But you need to stop this shit, okay? I--
I want to help you, okay? I wish I could. I wish you'd fucking let me instead of stabbing me.
You keep saying things that make the world break. You don't get it...
[He'd like to be helped, he really would. He's just so terrified of everything that the vast risks and changes he'd have to make to get to a better place are scarier than the hell he's familiar with. He wishes he could communicate that properly, but when he tries everything in his head descends into chaos.]
I don't get it, because nothing's broken yet! You said it yourself, right? You didn't want this--
[He bites his lip, because realizing how broken Diarmuid's become and seeing his conflicted expression besides Cu's mental image of the cheerful person he once was hurts.]
The you I used to know...I know you wouldn't want this.
I didn't. But it's that person's fault, isn't it? That "me" couldn't take it, so-- so he went to bits. You act like if I ran away I'd be that person again, but I can't. I can't go backwards. You can't get your friend back and it's not fair to act like you can!
Yeah, what so wrong about that? Maybe it wouldn't be the same, but you could stick with me and not have to run around killing people because some fucker told you to. I don't see the raw deal here, Diarmuid.
If you can say that, you'll never get it. You don't really care about anything. You just do whatever suits you, because you're shallow and stupid. I'm broken and I can still see that.
[He's trembling, partially because the bleeding hasn't stopped quite as much as he'd have like it to, partially because the angeris almost too much to bear]
It wasn't like it was easy leaving you behind! But I wasn't going to sit around at home and do nothing just to make sure you were by my side all the time. Neither of us would have wanted that.
Why couldn't you have done something there?! Your life is risky and shady. I just wanted you to be safe, and-- I didn't care if it was hard. I just wanted to be with you, and you never ever heard that!
[The urge to lash out again is rising, and it's visible even before he moves. there's a tension, a shift to a stance he could burst into action from at any second.]
I don't know! I don't remember! It was probably stupid, but that doesn't matter now since I can't fix that.
[Instinctively he reaches for the knife at his side]
But I'm trying to fix that now. If you'd just stop being scared and listen, we could still be together.
[It doesn't even register as anything romantic -- all Cu realizes is that having Diarmuid with him is right, is better, even now when everything feels so messed up]
[Of course not. His whole existence is made out of fear. That's like asking him to turn off almost every bit of his consciousness. The very idea makes it flare up more, and suddenly he's smiling that unstable smile, darting forward in a mostly unthinking attempt to get his hands around Cu's throat.]
If you saw what I saw you'd see. The walls are bleeding. There's a siren screaming. You smell like wet dog and rot and every time I see you there's paint splatters in my eyes-- it hurts.
[He wants to tell Diarmuid that he just wants to stop the hurt in the only way he knows how, but suddenly there are hands closing in around his throat, and in a startled attempt to defend himself he grabs that knife and sinks it into Diarmuid's forearm]
[He flinches, hisses in pain, but that little bit only makes him smile wider and his hands tighten. It hurts, but physical pain is practically pleasure compared to the mental pain.]
[Cu gags, feels his vision begin to swim, and grabs a hold of that knife again, twisting it as best he can. He doesn't want to hurt Diarmuid, at lest not badly, but in his panic he can't think of any other way to keep himself from getting choked]
[He winces, but even as the pain really hits his face his smile stays wide and unhinged. He finally lets go of Cu's throat, grabbing at his hand on the knife, but instead of pulling it out he holds it in place, leaning even further into the blade. Blood runs over both their hands, but the sharp intake of breath as the blade scrapes bone is as erotic as it is agonized.]
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streetwalkers2012-11-07 01:37 am
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Normally screams are okay! When he gets into the groove of killing people he even enjoys them. But sudden loud noises are always terrifying, so even at the best of times it's a careful manic balance between fear and bloodlust.
Right now he's just upset and unstable, and suddenly recoils. In a moment he's across the room, cowering in the corner as if he's the one injured.]
Oh no...
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[He gives the knife a good, long stare as he tries to decide whether to pull it out or not...]
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He's terrified, and normally he'd down it in indulgent violence. If he does what the voices tell him to, they quiet down. But at the core of him he knows he doesn't want Cu to die, so instead he struggles. And then of course struggling hurts, so he's quickly spiraling into hysterics all by himself.]
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Oh come on, you knew that would happen. I don't like being stabbed, you know? Do you even know how much it fucking hurts?
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He can't listen to Cu and deal with everything else at once. It hurts and it's confusing and he's a mass of fear and the sensation of being lost. All he knows how to do is shake his head and clamp his hands over his ears.]
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but he'll try, at least, taking a few huge deep breaths before sucking in his tears and shakily removing his hands from his ears.]
...I'm listening...
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I know it's not your fault. But you need to stop this shit, okay? I--
I want to help you, okay? I wish I could. I wish you'd fucking let me instead of stabbing me.
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[He'd like to be helped, he really would. He's just so terrified of everything that the vast risks and changes he'd have to make to get to a better place are scarier than the hell he's familiar with. He wishes he could communicate that properly, but when he tries everything in his head descends into chaos.]
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[He bites his lip, because realizing how broken Diarmuid's become and seeing his conflicted expression besides Cu's mental image of the cheerful person he once was hurts.]
The you I used to know...I know you wouldn't want this.
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[He's frustrated, and it's starting to show as irritation again. His mood is as always volatile.]
But I shouldn't have expected you to understand that. You've always thought it was easy to run away.
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[He's trembling, partially because the bleeding hasn't stopped quite as much as he'd have like it to, partially because the angeris almost too much to bear]
It wasn't like it was easy leaving you behind! But I wasn't going to sit around at home and do nothing just to make sure you were by my side all the time. Neither of us would have wanted that.
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[The urge to lash out again is rising, and it's visible even before he moves. there's a tension, a shift to a stance he could burst into action from at any second.]
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[Instinctively he reaches for the knife at his side]
But I'm trying to fix that now. If you'd just stop being scared and listen, we could still be together.
[It doesn't even register as anything romantic -- all Cu realizes is that having Diarmuid with him is right, is better, even now when everything feels so messed up]
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[Of course not. His whole existence is made out of fear. That's like asking him to turn off almost every bit of his consciousness. The very idea makes it flare up more, and suddenly he's smiling that unstable smile, darting forward in a mostly unthinking attempt to get his hands around Cu's throat.]
If you saw what I saw you'd see. The walls are bleeding. There's a siren screaming. You smell like wet dog and rot and every time I see you there's paint splatters in my eyes-- it hurts.
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...See? It's not so hard to hurt me back.
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Ah... that's better.
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