streetwalkers | YAN-PARA au master post

I wouldn't let you.

...Oh.

[Hesitant, taken aback, he instinctively pulls his hand back]

[A frustrated noise escapes him, and he slams the heel of his hand into Cu's stab wound. It isn't that he hates him. It's just that he's angry and confused and doesn't know how to articulate the jumble of feelings except to lash out.

You can't go! I told you, just-- Listen-- Or don't, I don't make sense anyway. I just don't want you to hate me!

[GOD SHIT FUCK WHY?!]

FUCK!

[He shouts, hissing and squirming until he manages to regain some measure of composure]

I'm listening and you're--

[owowowowow]

I don't hate you, but you're--

[OW]

And I'd rather not go--

[OW........]

To jail!

And I'd rather not go back empty handed!

[There's something satisfying about seeing and hearing Cu in pain. It can't equal what he's been through, but the feel of blood on his hand is thrilling. He starts to dig his fingers into the open wound, and snarls.]

This pain you feel? It's nothing to what I'd get if I let you go.

[His reply is an angry, pained snarl and involuntary struggling as Cu feels Diarmuid's fingers dig into that gash. He tries to say something once, twice, but can't manage to muster anything but strangled, snarling curses]

[He pulls his fingers loose, breathing hard both from the effort not to let CU out of his grasp and the struggle not to rip him to bits. He's not sure which urge is the right one -- to kill the man in front of him or to take care of him. Either way, it's probably best to wait for orders on the matter, so he tries to keep himself at least a little in check.

Anyway, the loving compulsions are stronger than the violent ones right now.]

Shhh... You get it, right? You can't run, but I need you...

[He wants to just lay back and sink into the mattress, but his whole body has gone tense from the sudden pain. Slowly he focuses on breathing, on trying not to think about what just happened or how much it hurt. Slowly, carefully, he replies, but he's no less angry than he was while he was screaming]

...fine. Do whatever.

I will.

[Cautiously, he reaches out to thread his bloody fingers through Cu's hair. The gesture is hesitant and as gentle as his previous actions were harsh.]

I'm sorry. I'm really sorry for everything. But if you go, I'm afraid I'll forget who I am. You've reminded me, so... Please endure it a little longer.

[He knows you gotta do what you gotta do sometimes. He knows that sometimes being a friend is less important than other obligations. But he knows Diarmuid's crossed a line, and he doesn't want to think about it. So he frowns and looks away, even as he lets Diarmuid run fingers through his hair.

He can take the silence as cooperation. Cu doesn't quite care right now.]

[Even that much cooperation is more than he deserves, and he knows it. He knows he's horrible, he knows Cu ought to hate him, but he can't really control his own mind or body. He's confused and scared at the best of times, now with emotions running high the way they are now it's even worse.

He's still mad that Cu left him, and he still wants to gut him, but he also wishes he could erase the problems and curl up with him safe and warm.

In lieu of either, he fetches bandages so he can put Cu's side back together.]

[For all his anger, Cu isn't the sort of guy to keep up the silent treatment for long. Once Diarmuid starts bandaging him, he flinches and huffs]

Careful.

[He freezes for a moment, then nods quietly. He's good at first aid, and cleans and dresses the wound as carefully and gently as he can. So long as he doesn't make eye contact, he can avoid the confusing jumble for at least a little while. He cannot, however, avoid the tears that start to spill despite himself, pattering hot against the backs of his hands while he works.

He doesn't really understand those either, so he keeps his mouth shut and pretends they're not there.]

[After the quiet drags on for a bit longer, he looks up at Diarmuid and sees those tears - he finds part of himself swearing, punching something, because how dare Diarmuid act like his.

...but he already feels like he knows better. After all, half the reason he's angry is because this isn't the friend he'd had before]

...hey. You okay?

[He remembers the physical sensation of crying. He knows, in a technical way, that if he says anything it's likely to get worse. He also remembers being trained not to do it. He wishes the whole feeling would go away. He doesn't really know how to put it into words anyway. It wold be much better if he hadn't let emotion show up at all.

But the tears are already here, so after a pause where he bites his lip til it starts to bleed, he answers in a soft, strained voice.]

No? I don't understand-- I just want my head to work again.

...me too, man.

[Because this sucks. This actually just fucking sucks, and he's not sure who he wants to hit first. Right now it's not Diarmuid, but he's sure that'll change in five minutes or so]

Me too.

...Did you miss me all that time?

[It's quiet and hesitant, said as he bloodies his face by wiping tears away with messy hands. They won't stop, but he makes the effort to erase them anyway.]

If you'd known where I was would you have tried to save me?

I would've fucked up all of 'em.

[The answer is quiet, but not at all hesitant.]

I would've found ya.

I've been alone. And afraid and angry and-- confused. I'm not allowed to be happy anymore. I really am out of my mind. I don't know how to handle anything. Even now I can see and hear all kinds of stuff that's probably not real.

[Sitting on the floor next to Cu's bed feels like a good idea. It's close enough to feel his presence and stop him from escaping if he has to, but he feels less likely to do something he'll regret if he isn't actually touching.]

It would be easier if I forgot being okay and didn't know I'm not, but I remember...

[Lazily, he dangles an arm over the side of the bed, his own non-committal attempt at closeness. He wouldn't touch. That's too homo, and he's too annoyed. But this is okay.]

...not allowed?

[the question is indignant, in the lazy, sleepy sort of way]

Happiness is for pure-hearted people. Monsters don't get to pretend to be human.

[A sigh, and he lets himself settle into his pillow for a moment]

Sounds like a dumb rule.

It doesn't matter if it is. I can't break their rules.

Sure you can. Do shit when they're not looking.

[a beat]

...whoever "they" are.

They'll find out. They can tell if I'm lying.

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