[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.]
I've done such horrible things, Cu. I keep doing them. Hate and love are all mixed up, so pain and pleasure...
[He leans even harder into the knife, and gasps again. His voice drops to a languid murmur, and his eyes go half-lidded as his body relaxes.]
Mm. The same. I can't be fixed or forgiven. You didn't think about me when you left, but even if this is your fault I should still be punished for living. This is good... Do it again.
[His first instinct is to shout, but he knows where that got him last time - he'd rather not do anything else that ends in them bleeding even more than they collectively are, so for the moment he tries to take a step back]
[He's not sure what to do with that. His Master would gladly kick him and cut him open. His Mistress would reinforce his self-hating beliefs and encourage him to punish himself, then remind him that only she will love him. Anyone else runs screaming or tries to kill him.
Cu's dismissal is confusing. It's so very confusing that he can't even get angry about it. He looks at Cu with a startled, bewildered expression, and meanwhile digs his fingers into his own wound.]
[In lieu of Cu further injuring him, he's doing plenty to widen his wound on his own. He's bleeding quite a bit now, but doesn't seem to be paying any attention to it. Instead he's just looking hurt and lost, and dropping his gaze to the floor as if ashamed.]
[He lets his hand be pulled away with only the slightest of resistance. If he was all manic insanity a minute ago, he's nothing but subdued sadness now. He hasn't been "cared about" since his father died. "Loved" by his Mistress, yes, but even as he is he knows that isn't the same thing. His eyes are welling up with tears again, but instead of hysterical they're simply, quietly heartsore.]
[He's almost limp in Cu's hands at this point. Like a posable doll, he holds dead still until Cu moves him, and then adjusts as prompted. He's not sure how to handle the situation, so he's just freezing and letting someone else lead.]
[He lets go of Diarmuid, but only for a moment to pull the cloth from his own wound and rip it where it looks cleanest. The bloodied half is firmly knotted back around his thigh, and he goes about doing the same for Diarmuid's arm]
Mm. Even if I could make sense of things without them... Someone like me couldn't just live normally, right? So I should just hate you and be done with it.
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streetwalkers2012-11-07 01:37 am
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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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[THIS. IS. WEIRD.]
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[He leans even harder into the knife, and gasps again. His voice drops to a languid murmur, and his eyes go half-lidded as his body relaxes.]
Mm. The same. I can't be fixed or forgiven. You didn't think about me when you left, but even if this is your fault I should still be punished for living. This is good... Do it again.
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...nah, I'm okay.
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Cu's dismissal is confusing. It's so very confusing that he can't even get angry about it. He looks at Cu with a startled, bewildered expression, and meanwhile digs his fingers into his own wound.]
...Why?
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[He grumps a bit, like a reluctant dog]
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[In lieu of Cu further injuring him, he's doing plenty to widen his wound on his own. He's bleeding quite a bit now, but doesn't seem to be paying any attention to it. Instead he's just looking hurt and lost, and dropping his gaze to the floor as if ashamed.]
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[He slowly, carefully grabs Diarmuid's wrist, trying to pull his fingers from the stab wound]
So quit it, okay?
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Why are you doing this to me?
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[What?]
Dunno. I said I cared about you, right? Don't see what other reason I need.
[One by one he tries to uncurl Diarmuid's fingers]
You got a handkerchief or something?
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[He's almost limp in Cu's hands at this point. Like a posable doll, he holds dead still until Cu moves him, and then adjusts as prompted. He's not sure how to handle the situation, so he's just freezing and letting someone else lead.]
...My heart hurts.
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[He lets go of Diarmuid, but only for a moment to pull the cloth from his own wound and rip it where it looks cleanest. The bloodied half is firmly knotted back around his thigh, and he goes about doing the same for Diarmuid's arm]
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I shouldn't let you in, you know.
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[No Cu, it's probably a bad idea to call her "that bitch" now that Diarmuid's finally calmed down]
Of your boss and shit?
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[he frowns, but--
He knows that it isn't his place to force anything. It's disheartening, knowing that he'll never be able to convince Diarmuid to come with him but.
If that's what he wants, then Cu isn't one to argue]
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I could make you kill me.
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[a liiiittle bit of that dangerous sharpness is coming back.
just a tiny bit though.]
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