Beelzebub (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gluttoning) wrote2023-08-28 10:39 am
gluttoning) wrote2023-08-28 10:39 am
SATURDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL (The World)
[FOOTBALL NOISES
aka this for IRL football watching or any communications outside Fragment. Yay football. :)]
[FOOTBALL NOISES
aka this for IRL football watching or any communications outside Fragment. Yay football. :)]
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He doesn't speak yet, since Tylor's asked the most pertinent question; he just studies Barrett, and his expression. He did say he'd rather talk to Barrett alone this time if he could, but - he isn't exactly of a desire to rush Tylor out, especially since Tylor's cheer is probably better for Barrett than Mithrun's gravity. It sure seemed to do better for Barrett yesterday, anyway. )
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The door opens, and his attention still turns in delay, though with a much more focused and alert look. There's a redness to his eyes and face, someone that's been crying recently but has had time to calm down.]
...Hey. [His smile is a little tired.] I didn't know you'd be here today.
[Painkillers are still very obviously at play here, for how the words still slur against some syllables. But his eyes still stay sharper, focused on Tylor and Morgan in turn.]
The nurses said you left the bag yesterday... right? Thank you.
[A beat, and he looks down at his cast, where the picture of several animals still sits.]
You left me a lot of presents.
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[ There's no sign that Tylor notices the redness to Bear's face with the smile he has on his face, but he does. That and the way he was yesterday soften his voice. ]
Why, of course we did. We care about you an awful lot, you know. And I think if we could've, we would've stayed with you all night too. Right, Morgan?
[ Tylor looks to Morgan as he asks, a long glance that tilts with a question of whether he still wants him to stay. Only for a moment longer. As many as Morgan wants. His arms loosen a fraction too, in case the question isn't clear. Alone time had been the plan, but he doesn't want to leave them in awkward silence either. ]
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... The nurses made me leave.
( :/. But he basically stuck around until he Had to go.
Mithrun glances at Tylor in turn - it's a "whatever you want" type of look. He understands he has this concept of preference here, weird as it feels, in that he thinks it's maybe better if he talks to Barrett alone, but he isn't so fully defined as to have specific desires as to when that happens. When Tylor leaves is up to Tylor's judgment. Mithrun has nothing urgently pressing to communicate to Barrett, exactly; it's just that - he knows so long as another person is here, he will let them define the interaction, and he will probably not say that much to Barrett, a little like yesterday.
He glances back to Barrett. )
... Most were from Cael. He said he hopes you like something in there.
( Pretend I didn't forget this... but Mithrun, too, probably has a small book with him - seems to be paperback in size, wrapped in a bookstore's brown paper. Nothing very special or fancy. Cael had probably used present shopping as an excuse to get Mithrun out and about for his own good. )
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...Oh. [A beat, and his applesauce is placed to the side, where several other food items currently sit untouched.]
You both tried to stay that late? Weren't you tired?
[They'd upped his pain meds so he could sleep through the night, so the blur that was yesterday is even more of a blur when it comes to the evening.
He'll give a shallow nod to the confirmation of who provided the gifts, looking towards the small stack of books within arms reach.]
...That was nice of him. I don't usually read much, but... tell him I said thanks, when you can. Damian was saying that a couple of these are supposed to be really good.
Booker liked your guys' drawings, too... I couldn't remember who did them, but I knew it was one of you.
[His eyes travel back to his company, then to Morgan's lap where the package sits, a question in how his brow furrows slightly.]
Did you find something?
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I'm just glad you got some rest. And you seem way more awake now, too.
[ Tylor can't help but beam at him when he mentions the drawings, after he register's Morgan's look for what it is. He gives Morgan's hand a gentle squeeze over its hold on the package. It drifts away as Tylor steps and leans to look at the cast. ]
Guilty! I figured this way, you'd know we were here, even if your memory was a little messed up. See? It's all of us, here for you.
[ Tylor points to the different animals as he talks. They all have expressions fitting for each of them, cute in their simplicity. A happy wolf, a one eyed bunny, a stoic lion, and an amused bird. Two of the animals have small smiles on their otherwise stoic little faces. It's not hard to guess which ones. The perched bird is endeared by it all from where it nests on the lion's back, content as air is to flowing. They're all happy together. As he takes a step back, Tylor pats the cast gently.
But when Bear asks about the package in Morgan's hands, Tylor reacts like he suddenly remembered something. ]
Oh! That's right. There's something I need to find. So, you two have a good time together, okay?
[ Casually, Tylor leans to plop an audible goodbye kiss to Morgan's hair. Naturally on instinct, he leans to almost do the same to Bear. But he pauses halfway there with a blink. Smiling warmly, he reaches to brush some hair out of Bear's face briefly instead. And with a parting pat aimed for the spot on Bear's chest from Sunday, he retreats from the bed with backwards steps.
Halfway to the door, he salutes Morgan-- ]
Don't forget to text me when you need me~!
[ Tylor nearly falls into the door because he isn't looking in time--but he makes it out alright. ]
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His eyes trace the drawing on Barrett's cast when Barrett and Tylor seem to address it - he didn't totally get the gift at the time, the way he doesn't get the lion plush at Barrett's bedside, because he's not great with sentimentality, but he supposed Tylor had a way of making things work out, and he did. Barrett seemed to like them.
He didn't really correct Cael on Barrett's reading frequency when Cael settled on buying books. He didn't really have the desire to correct him, and the gifts seemed practical enough, since Barrett would be having a good chunk of downtime. He'd gotten Barrett a book, too, since he couldn't really think of a better, practical gift for someone whose life just radically changed. But as he remains here now, he wonders if his choice wasn't a very good gift at all, and had been purchased short on proper thought.
He's borrowed from his conundrum when Tylor speaks up again, and he tunes in almost a little belatedly - he doesn't realize Tylor's going until he feels the kiss to his hair, and he looks up, a little perplexed (you know, as if Tylor hadn't just shown he was conscious of whether Mithrun wanted a minute to himself or not - Mithrun is tragically dense and cannot connect dot one to dot two, often), but tilting his head with a gaze that follows Tylor as a means of saying Good-bye, and, Okay, I will.
Ah, there he goes into the door— No, he's got it. There he go (real). Mithrun waits to see if he's not returning for anything before he turns his gaze back to Barrett. )
... This is for you.
( Since that was the topic Barrett introduced just before Tylor's exit, it's what he'll start with. He offers the brown-wrapped book to Barrett. It's modestly-sized, and not particularly thick. Opening it, Barrett will find a cliffnotes to a short selection of Faulkner's short stories - none of which are the source of that quote about the past Mithrun offered once, but this is arguably a little more readable. On the each left page is the text, and each right page is a blurb of summary and analysis, a little like a Shakespeare book that presents the original text to the left and a modernized version of the dialogue to the right. Given Faulker's piecewise writing style, this is probably a decently comprehensible way of experiencing him for people who aren't turbo nerds. )
The subject matter's sometimes heavy, though. So you can read it when you want.
( When Mithrun thought back to the short list of things Barrett had expressed were his interests (food, family, and football), he didn't see anything that would be directly useful to him while recovering from his injury (this is how Cael convinced Mithrun a seven-person bike would not be a very useful gift for Barrett right now, even if it fulfilled the "family" and "athletics" criteria - to Mithrun). This seemed an acceptable runner-up; though maybe as only banter, Barrett had referenced Faulkner a couple times since Mithrun mentioned him.
At least, that's what had made sense to him at the store. )
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[It's mumbled as he follows the entire lineup of animals, trying to gently piece together who was who. Oh. The dinner? Is that what it was...?
So thoughtfully contemplative he is over sharpie animals, Barrett starts just slightly at how suddenly Tylor moves to leave. He's still dazed enough that the lean in doesn't get more than a belatedly confused look, as does the pat to his chest... and the physical splat straight into the door. Huh. Poor guy. At least he got through there eventually.]
Wonder where he's going... [It's another quiet mutter, but he shakes it from his head soon enough. Tylor would do as Tylor does, and it's not as though Barrett was in any state to argue with it.
He's careful in unfolding the paper, not even opening the cover at first. He sees "Faulkner", and his eyes soften, letting his fingers trace the letters.]
Oh.
This is the one you talked about before... right? A few weeks ago...
[It's a little intimidating. But he lets the cover pry open against his fingers, flipping through to a random page, trying to let his medicine-fogged brain parse the layout...]
...
I didn't know they made books like this. With the little notes, I mean...
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I didn't know either, until I was looking through the store. It seemed like it might make him more enjoyable to read.
( Reading really isn't for everyone, and that's fine. He used to read physics studies as a hobby because he was the turboest of nerds - but, you know, not everyone is. )
I haven't read his short stories in awhile, though. Whenever you start to read it... I can re-read that selection, too.
( The implication being they could talk about it, maybe. Like a two-person book club. )
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[To read it together... part of him wonders if he'd even be able to keep up with someone as smart as Morgan. But the notes make it seem... doable. A little more than just reading the text on its own.
He exhales, smoothing the cover closed against his lap.]
I think I'd like that. It's harder on my own.
...
Would... you be okay if we waited until I'm out of the hospital? I want to give it more of my attention.
[A beat, something weary hanging in his eyes.]
I'll have a lot of time, when I go home.
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He nods. It's hard not to notice the red rims at Barrett's eyes again. )
... That's fine.
( And here he pauses, because... well, he knows the implication here, besides just needing time to heal, and he doesn't know how to broach it. Barrett always seems to find good words for him when Mithrun's struggling, but he's never sure what words to offer Barrett in turn. )
Did the doctors talk to you?
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...Yeah. This morning.
Lucas and I talked for a while after. To... um... to come up with a plan.
[It's not a plan he wanted, or one he likes, and the frustration of it already brims from him like an overflowing glass under a faucet, a tension in his body even if he tries to keep it out of his words.]
...I'm trying not to worry about it. Lucas said he'd take care of everything. I just... can see it in the way people look at me right now.
[He doesn't know how to handle it. It comes from a place of love. But the loss is the elephant in the room, something he feels he doesn't want to address. It's unfair. Wasn't he doing everything right? How was he supposed to help anyone now?
...
One of his palms presses to his eyes. Brief, his swallow wet and thick. No tears come with it. He's tired of crying.]
I guess it's better that I didn't say "yes" to you before, huh.
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A beat. )
... You're still enough for me.
( He offers a hand, palm up - to take, if Barrett wants it. )
It's fine if you don't have an appetite right now. I don't mind waiting, even if it takes a long time.
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With hesitation, he takes it between both of his own, his fingers wearily tracing the shapes of Morgan.]
The appetite isn't a problem. Not... not when it comes to you.
[The statement makes his face color slightly, but it's momentary. The silence takes its place, shaped only but the press of Barrett's fingers - a tender gesture, a nervous gesture, like he's losing his chance to know this touch any further.]
...I can't do anything for you like this.
[A swallow.]
I can't... do anything for anyone.
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... It's hard.
( Losing things. He knows it. Their situations weren't perfectly similar, but loss and grief ring familiar. )
But the things you do for me don't rely on your strength. I think your brothers feel the same. ( In the end, what he likes is... ) ... I just like talking to you.
( He takes... Barrett's hand in his, the one facing his own palm-side, and holds a it a little firmer. )
But... it still feels bad, right? You don't have to do anything for anyone to have value. But it still feels awful.
( Coming from Mithrun, who's expressed frustration he can't do basic tasks anymore, that he always needs assistance, and struggles with independence - even if Barrett doesn't have to do anything to prove his worth, even if Barrett comes to believe that one day, things aren't easier just by virtue of their truth. )
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There's something nice about Morgan not bothering to soften his feelings and worries with platitudes. It makes the words that come instead feel a little more believable, harder to think his way around.]
...Yeah. I...
I think... I understand a little better, how you must have felt when I said stuff like that to you. It's easier to say it than to believe it. I... wonder if it's how Booker feels, too.
[Guilt traces the syllables, pressing his thumb against Morgan's palm. An unspoken apology.]
I can't take care of you or Booker or anybody by just talking to you. I wish I could, though. Right now, I...
...It just feels like I'm looking at a big black hole when I try to think about what I'm going to do from here.
[To do anything: to live his dream, to care for his loved ones, to be helpful and strong and reliable and a resource. It's all been put on hold, all ripped away. At least it's not as bad as it could be. At least he'll recover eventually. He'll be able to walk again with time. He'll be able to function with some independence again, with time. But what happens to the people that rely on him, while he has no choice but to rely on them instead?]
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... I think you should do the things you want to do.
( Wow, thanks Mithrun. If only anyone else thought of that. But he's trying to speak sincerely - chipping away at an idea he's trying to get closer to. )
You want to figure things out for yourself and support your family in your own way. Right? So it's not enough if someone ( me, ) pays your way there, or anything. You want to do it yourself.
But there'll probably be a point where everyone splits off. ( He remembers even Booker wanted to be independent eventually, and he knows the rest of them are pretty far apart. They all seem to be in different fields already. ) They might not need you to support them financially, or take care of them. They might be just fine on their own.
When that happens... Will you still want someone to take care of, to support? ( Do you want it, or need it? Is it both? ) Or do you think you'll find it in you to relax?
( He's not critical, or judgmental. The questions are genuine. Barrett should do the things he wants to do - and that means knowing what that is. He wants to accomplish whatever it is on his own - Mithrun doesn't think that's changed. But the rest is what he thinks Barrett should define. )
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He wants to play football. He wants to be with his family and help them just like he always has. He wants to be able to use his freedom to be there for the people he loves.
His wants anchor so much around others, his love for others, his need to be something valued by others. So to have that seemingly core value trashed, to have his wants questioned... it makes his blood run cold with a sickening tightness to his stomach.
He stays very still and quiet for a long moment, turning it over in his head, his eyes bright and wet the longer he dwells on it. It hurts, to think about.]
...I don't know.
All I've ever wanted was to be able to get my family to a life where we could all be together and happy. Where we might have some peace.
I know that... they're not going to be around forever. It's already kind of hard to get Matt and Damian involved in things. Aiden lives his own life. Lucas is so busy we never really see him. Levi stays to himself. Booker's the one I see the most, but I know that I can't be there for him forever.
I... think it'd feel a little empty, to be by myself. I don't...
I don't feel I've deserved something like that, if my family can't be there with me.
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He's quiet as Barrett speaks, his lips pursed, brows furrowed, in thought. He thinks this is the bigger issue, really - this desire to be needed by others, by his family. Because he could tell him practically, you can be a lifeguard, you can be a chef, you can find a great number of professions that don't ask you to sit in an office and don't ask for your body in its prime. These are all true things. But it doesn't really matter if he can manage these things on his own, if the end goal is to keep close to everybody else, if he can't believe he deserves peace and content.
Eventually: )
... It's not the same as family, but...
( His gaze falls to their hands, his hand in Barrett's, and his voice trails off. It's not the same as family - it's probably not worth that much, even. But it feels so strange how on Thursday he'd been in this hazy dream, where he'd settled on his death, and then - stumbled into Saturday, and he found he'd never been so panicked about another person, not since Niamh. He'd never been so angry. He lives self-centric in most ways, but it felt for the first time like he had gotten out of his own head.
It's really not the same as family. He considers again if he shouldn't pivot off this. He hesitates, but, eventually: )
... Could I try living like I won't leave you alone?
( Like he'll be there on that day his brothers say they're fine and independent - like Barrett won't be by himself; like he won't hand what's left of his life to the professor on a silver platter, and beg him to eat it.
It's not worth a lot, because he knows he can't promise so much. He doesn't think Barrett would believe any foolhardy proclamation that he's decided to abandon his revenge, anyway. But - he can try, he would try, if it means something to Barrett. His fingers curl light against Barrett's palm. Maybe he just wants it to mean something to Barrett. )
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He goes still again at the question, eyes widening and touch going slightly slack.]
...What?
[Open, confused. A very small sound.
Like he wouldn't leave him alone...
Why was he asking something like this? Was it just to try and make him feel better? Less lonely? Why does it feel a little frightening to hear it?]
Morgan, I...
[Hadn't they just talked about this days ago...? He couldn't take Morgan the way he wanted then, and he definitely couldn't if he was stuck like this. He has nothing to offer here.]
I can't ask you to do something like that. Everything you want to do, your... your issues with that man, and--
[His eyes drop to their hands.]
--You wouldn't be happy living like that. I wouldn't want it, if you weren't happy.
I already couldn't give you what you need. Like this, I'm... I'm not going to be able to give you what you need for a while, if ever.
I want you to try living, Morgan, but... not for me. You deserve more than just living for me.
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... I can't live for you.
( Feral cats can become barn cats, but they can't really become house cats. He doesn't have any illusions about that - that he has crossed some point of no return, in terms with his proclivity. Mithrun doesn't need other people to be happy - not anymore. He's not like Barrett; he's not like a lot of people he knows. )
I don't know what you think I need. I don't need a carer, or an accessory. ( In murder, he means. ) But... no one spoke to me after my accident. Then they put me in that apartment and told me not to go outside. And I got this book for you because I thought... we could talk about it, later.
Companionship is a choice that I make. And I like choosing yours.
( ... )
... I don't need anything from another person. But there are things I've come to like. I liked going to the carnival. I liked walking through the low surf. I liked... the idea of cooking with you. ( Little gestures, new experiences; mundane things, faintly interwoven. ) ... But, it sounds like... that's not enough for you.
( That Barrett needs - to take care of and support someone in some larger way, a way more dramatic that satisfies himself, that soothes his own anxieties. That someone who is able to be content with themself just leaves Barrett lonely. )
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...Why do you think it's not enough?
[It's a quiet question, though one he isn't sure he'll get an answer to.]
I don't want to be another parent to you, Morgan. I just want to feel you can rely on me, when you need help to do what you want. To see you being able to thrive by yourself...
I think I'd really like to see it.
[Just as he is now, could he be anything reliable? Would just companionship be enough?]
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Gently he brings up his other hand and he lays it on Barrett's, and he takes his hands apart - Barrett's hand in each of his, like Barrett had done when guiding him into the water, before they'd walked back side by side. )
... Then can you let me try to show you that you're enough, even now?
( Maybe that's it. It feels a little more right. Does it convey? Does it carry? He can't promise he's going to be here in a few years, he isn't trying to ask Barrett to be with him right now. But, you know - this isn't it, this isn't all. That's what he means. Isn't that what Barrett tried to tell him, too?
He curls his fingers against Barrett's own, his hold light but firm. )
... It feels like, maybe... you think people can only lean on you when you're a certain way, doing certain things. I like those things, too. But it doesn't seem like it's enough for you, when I say you've helped me other ways.
( "I can't take care of you or Booker or anybody by just talking to you." If only Barrett knew how quiet things had been, with nothing for company, before Fragment. That Kabru and Cithis began to talk to him is something of a recent development. )
I don't know if I can thrive yet. But I'm learning things, being with you. ( Being Barrett, being with others - fumbling through relationships, experiences, learning he's loved, learning what it means to matter... ) I think that's worth something.
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It leaves his chest a little more full, aching in a strange way - both with the corrections and the guilt of his own misunderstandings.]
...I don't mean to. To say things that make you wonder if I don't believe you, I mean. I... really want to believe you.
[How does he explain... SHOULD he?
His hands gently tighten against Morgan's.]
I've never really had someone say that before. Me just talking to someone and having it be something they liked. It's... not something that happens.
[He knows being called clueless or stupid or childish or simple. Not compliments. Not something out of kindness or genuine enjoyment.]
I don't know how to think about it. I like it. It makes me happy.
[And yet he can feel his eyes burn.]
You're enough for me. I... want to be enough for you, I-I...
[His hands occupied, Barrett can't quite stop the tears that fall. There's only a few, beckoned out of exhaustion and grief.]
I want to feel like I'm enough.
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He squeezes Barrett's hands as his tears roll down his cheeks. )
... It's okay if it takes awhile. I think... I can try to figure it out with you - how I feel about myself.
( Because he isn't convinced he's enough either, but - well - first - he's not - he's going to say he's passed up revenge as an eventuality, or anything. But if he thinks for a moment, as a hypothetical, that maybe he won't pursue it - not a commitment to the idea, but trying the idea out, to see how it fits - would it feel like this, sometimes? Not less empty, but more - forgetting, a little bit, that he feels that way?
That was the feeling in his chest, when he first asked if he could try. He's not that good with words or feelings. He's getting there. )
... I want... to keep talking to you. And for you to keep talking to me. Even when you say things I don't believe about myself. I like them. Because... I do like you. ( A gentle rebuttal of the apology Barrett had signed into his palm. ) I can try to say it more. There's a lot of things I think but don't say.
( He'll need to recognize that he's in the process of liking something and then pull together a compliment, but - he's open to the idea. Barrett worries a lot about what people need, but he guesses not a lot of people get to hear what he needs, in turn. )
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