streetwalkers | YAN-PARA au master post

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.

So leave.

[The very thought of that nearly makes him lash out at Cu again. Not because he doesn't want to leave, but because the fear of what would happen if he tried and failed is just that potent.

He doesn't want to hurt Cu anymore right now though, so instead he curls tightly into a ball and shakes his head. Fear radiates from him, and in his broken senses it manifests as cold dark whispers in his ears.]

Ah--

Hey, what's wrong...? Diarmuid?

Don't talk about leaving. I can't even think that...

[oh, is that what this is????]

...well you gotta start soon.

No!

[The reaction is almost violent. He shudders, clapping his hands over his ears as his voice reaches a rubber-band tension.]

Nonono. I can't go. She has to tell me what's real. I'll get lost and they'll find me and I'll be in trouble. They'll find the thoughts and pull them out and burn them up...

[God shit fuck he's not sure why he cares this much, to be honest. He's trying to stay angry, because that's what he should be. But he can't]

Tell you what's real? When it sounds like she fucked you up?

[grumpily, he tries to roll over, hits a sort spot, and jerks right back into his original position]

Fuck that.

[He's not used to hearing anything that contradicts what he's been told by them. No one else ever talks to the "real" him long enough or with enough sympathy to get there. The whole world seems shaky when it's being questioned, and in response to that thought he feels the floor creaking and shaking and shuddering until it splits in front of him.

To Cu, nothing's happening at all. To Diarmuid he's about to be swallowed up, and he suddenly gasps, scrambling back onto the bed to escape a rift that only he can see. The tears are back in force, and he presses himself into the corner, trembling and sobbing.]

Stop it. You're making everything come apart!

[He... He's what? He has half a mind to try and get up and go fix whatever's coming apart, but by the time Diarmuid scrambles back onto the bed, he's sat himself the fuck down and settled in to make sure he doesn't bleed too much.

Cu can't say he's entirely pleased to have Diarmuid up in his space all of a sudden, but he figures shoving him off wouldn't have the greatest of outcomes.]

...I don't see anything?

[Maybe he means that metaphorically?]

...It's not real?

[He's completely baffled, staring at the floor like there's a monster there. It's still a gaping crack in his eyes, descending into nothingness. The world is still shaking and dust is crumbling from the ceiling. His head aches and his skin feels like it's burning and everything is just off.

But Cu says he doesn't see it. So it's probably fake. But that doesn't mean he can just turn it off, and the sensation of experiencing terrifying things and knowing he isn't really experiencing them ads up to overwhelming frustration. But all he can do about that is cry harder and pray that it will stop soon.]

Then why does it hurt so much?

I-I...I don't know, but whatever it is, uh.

[He's not sure what to say, really - he can't see whatever Diarmuid's seeing, and he's pretty sure he can't make it go away]

It shouldn't be able to hurt you...

It does!

[If he could, he'd shrink to the size of a marble. But he can't, so instead he just wedges himself further into the corner, in the tiniest ball he can pull off. His voice is shaky and tiny and he looks nothing like the kind of person who can slaughter a neighborhood in cold blood.]

I'm sorry. I'll be good, so it can stop...

[Ooooohhhhh god what do?????]

You don't have to be sorry for anything, you know.

[That doesn't compute. He's always scared and always guilty, so his response is just to look up with a wide-eyed, baffled expression.]

I mean you should probably be sorry for lying or fucking stabbing me, but you didn't do anything just now, so, uh--

I am sorry. I think. I'm not sure.

[He's not really sure of anything, to be quite honest. But if he just focuses on Cu's face the rest of the room stops tearing itself apart, so that's what he does.

At least until the door suddenly bursts open to the tune of several policemen.]

YAN-PARA au master post

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