kore_logs | I'm trying, but I'm graceless...

Entry tags:

I'm trying, but I'm graceless...

Who: Meyer and Charlie
What: There's a need for a SRS DISCUSSION since Ned seems to now know everything about their lives.
Where: House 19
When: Day 87. Evening.
Warnings: Swearing. Drugs. Probably feelings, we all know how that goes. Will update if needed.

This week has been a bad one. His injuries have been causing him trouble -- the painkillers never seem quite strong enough or long-lasting enough, but maybe that's because what he really wants is the heroin they still have, and he's trying to convince himself not to burn through their stash just because a tiger attacked him. Add that to the fact that his dreams have been on public display, and he's not exactly a happy guy.

And then there's the conversation he'd had with Ned. The conversation he's been trying to avoid thinking about, the conversation he's been trying not to bring up around Charlie. The last thing they need is more trouble. But Ned knows things nobody should know, and while Ned seems more trustworthy than most, Meyer doesn't trust anyone implicitly -- except for maybe Charlie.

He's sitting in the kitchen, doing what could probably be classed as sulking, if he were the type to admit he ever sulks. He calls it "thinking," but the fact that he's just staring into space and frowning probably qualifies it for something more than just "thinking." There's a little scrap of brown paper with some heroin on it on the table, but although he occasionally glances at it, he's still debating whether to use it.

In truth, he's waiting for Charlie to show up in the kitchen so they can talk. But he's not going to seek him out on his own. So he just keeps sitting there. Staring. Thinking.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"What will he need to use it for? To him, it's normal. To him, it's..."

He gestures helplessly, not sure how to phrase it. This whole thing is making him sick again. This is why he hadn't wanted to discuss it with Charlie; it would bring the anxiety back, the fear, the racing mind. He could have left it entirely secret, but that's not how he operates around Charlie -- he tells him things, even the things he never wants to talk about again.

"What I'm saying is, we threaten him, he might suddenly find a reason to tell. We leave it alone, so does he."

"The fuck you mean, normal?"

He's too in tune with Meyer not to notice his shift in behaviour, and he comes to sit next to him again. Even though his fingers are still twitching and leg still bouncing under the table.

There's a part of him that wants to relay the whole conversation to Charlie, to explain the dreams, too, where the whole thing had started from. To explain how Ned knew anything in the first place. There's a petty part of him that wants to blame Charlie, for having been drunk and affectionate when Ned had been nearby, for having been so concerned after Meyer had been injured, but he can't bring himself to do that. They're in this together. There's no one to blame.

"Where he comes from, that kind of thing..." He tries to remember how Ned says it, and then settles for his own, slightly altered explanation. "It isn't illegal. There're lots of people who do it and don't get in trouble for it. He says that there're always judgmental people, but that it's not... dangerous. To him, it seemed completely reasonable. When I found out about his... interests, he wasn't bothered. He talked about being in love with this guy completely freely."

That information stabs him, right in the gut. It's sudden and deeply unpleasant and he wants to tell it to fuck right off, but it stays there, gently twisting.

It's unimaginable, that there's a world out there somewhere like that, some magical world where people can be in love and talk about it like it's something to be proud of. It makes him feel physically sick even, something he only belated recognises as envy.

"Throw him a fucking party for it or some shit, then." He wants to throw something else but there's nothing in reach except for a random slip of paper and Charlie starts methodically shredding it.

"Yeah, I'll get on throwing him a party as soon as we agree on what to do about the situation at hand."

If his tone is cuttingly sarcastic, it's only because he's at a loss for how to handle this. If it were up to him alone, he'd do nothing -- he'd already stressed to Ned, again and again, the need for discretion. He'd already made it very clear, in his opinion, that there's no reason to go telling anyone anything. But Charlie hadn't been there, and Charlie hasn't seen the surprising honesty in Ned's promise to be quiet. Of course Charlie's worried.

"We need to think about this logically. What's the worst that could happen? Give me the worst case scenario."

If he has that, he can work backwards from there, figure out how to avert it. It's too open as it is now; anything could happen, and he hates uncertainty.

Charlie gives him his most displeased look. Seriously?

"Not everyone in this place is from the fucking Utopia shit future. Someone shows up our time, earlier, decides they don't care for us being around, take it out on yous."

Does he need to remind you of the fights he got into back then they were kids? Charlie would come home bloody and barely standing and the last thing he want is for Meyer to have any more of that. Or ever again.

He nods quickly. It's the worst case scenario he was thinking of, too. They can't control who shows up here. What might be acceptable to the majority of the people in this little town now could easily change as the population changes. "No, not everybody in this place is from the future. And I don't want him telling anyone either. I just think..."

He frowns, shaking his head. "Threats won't help us here, if they're too obvious. That's what I don't get about this guy--" he means Ned, of course "--he's so naive in some ways. He could sit there and act like it was all completely acceptable. A threat's going to baffle him. We can be more subtle than that."

"If he can't figure it outs on his own, I can be real fucking clears." Come on, Meyer, this is what he does well. He's so over his head with all this, it's all so far out from anything he knows how to cope with and he wants to just fall back on something familiar. He won't even have to rough the guy up at all, just give him a nice clear message he won't forget in a hurry.

"Charlie, he can figure it out on his own. I'm pretty sure that your threats are crystal clear. Here's the problem: what do we threaten him with? We can threaten him with the fact that we'll reveal his secret, too, but it isn't a secret, so what does he care? We can threaten him with physical harm, but in a tiny place like this one, that could backfire on us real quick. Sure, it could work for awhile, until he realizes that if we actually hurt him, the whole town's gonna turn against us."

He's observed the population of the town, and found that they generally like Ned. It would be unwise, at best, to start a conflict with him, especially a physical one.

"Still..." He's musing on something, although he's not sure how to phrase it yet. Give him a second, Charlie, his brain's working.

"Still?" Come on, Meyer, don't be an asshole. Charlie drops his paper shredding for a moment, leaning in closer, "Still fucking what, Meyer?"

"We can't threaten him directly. We need to keep things pleasant."

And maybe he says that selfishly, because he's starting to like Ned, or at least starting to like him more than he likes most people.

"You go talk to him, not to be threatening, just to be friendly. In fact, you thank him for being discrete. You feel out the situation. If he seems to have lost any of the discretion he promised me a couple days ago, then you can start warning him. Subtly."

He'd go and talk to Ned himself, but they've already had that conversation, and he's not repeating it. No, it needs to come from Charlie, because he needs to verify that Ned will make the same promises to both of them, needs to know that Ned isn't the kind of guy who only promises to keep things private in the heat of the moment, when it had been obvious how distressed Meyer was. If Ned offers the same assurances to Charlie, after several days, in the comfort of his own home, when there's less of an emotional impact, Meyer's more inclined to feel he can trust him.

"Right. Friendly. Jesus fucking Christ." When the hell did they get into these situations. Everything was so much easier in the big city where you could disappear a body pretty damn easily.

"We don't have a choice. In a place like this, friendly's what we've got. It's our best weapon. You gotta make him think we're his best goddamn friends. You don't give him one single reason to go talking to anyone, not even his boyfriend."

His tone might sound a little dictatorial, but he's pretty sure it has to be this way. It's for the best, he knows that, and it'll protect them better in the long run than wild threats of violence or retribution, but it bothers him that Charlie is so obviously uncomfortable.

"Boyfriend." He says it completely deadpan, but the displeasure on his face is obvious. It sounds so fucking childish, really. He thought it 20 years at least people would be over that shit.

"What else am I supposed to call him? And let's not forget, Charlie, Ned saved my life not too long ago. Whether we like it or not, I owe him."

And he doesn't like it. Sure, Ned had assured him that there was no debt owed, that he would have done the same for any of his friends, but Meyer knows that whether or not Ned accepts it, he's indebted to him. That puts them in a unique situation.

"Yeah, jesus, I fucking get it already. No threatening to drop him in a fucking lake or nothing, fine." Seriously, Meyer, he's got too much to think about now without you launching into your 'stop Charlie from doing something stupid' voice. He goes back to shredding his paper.

He sighs. "Look, you're worried. I'm worried too. The best we can do is not let him see that, okay?"

It's almost impossible to stop from launching into his 'stop Charlie from doing something stupid' voice, but he does his best to temper it, make it a little more understanding and a little less demanding. Charlie doesn't always respond well to demanding; sometimes it just makes him more stubborn.

"It'll be fine."

He doesn't know that, and he's never been an optimist. Even saying that rings false, somehow, but he makes an effort.

Yes, Charlie does give him a very disbelieving look at that line.

"You knows every time you says that I thinks you got into the drugs again."

"I haven't had any drugs at all today."

Yet. He might have to, if they keep having this conversation. He doesn't like the way it's going, doesn't like anything about it, actually.

"Look, it's different here than it is at home. We adapt, yes? We can handle that. We've handled worse."

"We ain't never had no one find out before, though." They've always been careful, always been good at it. Years they've kept it up and a few weeks in this place sends that all to shit? It makes him feel sick again, slumping into his chair more. The anger from earlier has ebbed away, morphed into the deep, bone-tired feeling that often follows, making him want to plant himself face-first into the couch and not move for a few hours.

"No one expected it before. No one knew what to look for. Even if they had, they'd've dismissed it as ridiculous. Ned has a... unique frame of reference. He sees things."

And as much as it bothers him, makes him feel vulnerable, he has to admire that, too. Ned is observant, and that always scores points in his book. He wishes, somehow, that Ned had been able to overlook this, but then, for Ned, this wasn't nearly as shocking as it would have been for someone from their time.

He knows Charlie feels sick, can tell it just by looking at him, and he feels sick, too. He's felt sick ever since the goddamn tiger attack, and he's pretty sure his stomach's never going to feel normal again.

He feels lost, far adrift from anything familiar and he hates that fucking feeling. He wants to just curl up with his head in Meyer's lap, close his eyes and pretend they're home again, but he knows how pathetic and needy that would make him look. But he can't not touch him right now, either.

He reaches for him, first a hand on his shoulder, and then higher to curl his fingers into the hair behind his ears.

It's taking him conscious effort not to get up and walk away, to retreat from anything emotional as he always does. He could go take a nap right now, could go lie down and try to block everything out for awhile, but he knows that if he tries, the thoughts will just be whirring through his head, distracting him more, making him feel worse. So he stays where he is, lets Charlie reach for him, lets him touch him.

He has to break eye contact, though, has to look down at the table. There are too many things in his mind right now, and none of them need to be expressed. He's been vulnerable enough during their time here. He hates it -- it's part of what's contributing to the sick feeling.

He's too good at sensing all of Meyer's little moods, at the way he breaks eye contact, just barely leans away from his hand. So he takes it back and shoves them in his pockets again.

"I'll talks to him tomorrow."

"Okay."

Sometimes he hates that Charlie can sense his moods. Nobody else can, and he's gotten used to being so damn good at hiding everything that it startles him when Charlie seemingly reads his mind.

He'd ask if Charlie'll be okay, or tell him to feel better, but that all sounds vaguely insulting somehow. Charlie can feel however he needs to feel -- no amount of cajoling or attempts at calming him are going to change that. So he just settles for a tiny, almost imperceptible smile, and a repeat of what he'd said before: "It'll be fine."

"Yeah. Fine. I needs to go out, alright?" He feels antsy and crawling in his own skin. He knows there's only so far he can walk in this place, but he needs to be anywhere but here for a while. He makes for the door, grabbing his jacket on the way out.

"Yeah, okay. See you."

If they were at home, he'd figure Charlie was probably going out to get into trouble in some way -- fights, drugs, sex, any of it. Here, he doesn't know exactly what there is to do, but he's pretty sure Charlie'll find a way to make it work for him. As for himself, he's just going to go back to bed.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I'm trying, but I'm graceless...

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject