bothbarrels | Duplicity IC Contact

[ There's a barely perceptible tensing of her shoulders when she sees him, so slight as to be easily excusable by the way she's holding herself. She doesn't quite breathe for the whole moment of awkward silence before he nods and greets her, which is— it's stupid. This is all so stupid.

She huffs, tries to blow her hair out of her face but she's too sweaty for that, so she has to comb it back with her fingers. ]

...hey. I'm uh. Almost done. If— y'know.

[ Fuck's sake. Pinnacles of communication as ever. ]

[ The expression on his face goes from hesitant and carefully blank to disappointed, of all things. He knows they're not really talking, but he hadn't meant for things to be that way. Not after what happened under the Dome. ]

If you want. 'S fine.

[ God, fuck this shit. It's like the uneasy silence on the rig again and fuck she hates that, hates that she's let herself accept it so easily again. Following his lead doesn't mean letting herself get walked all over.

She groans overdramatically and faceplants against the bag in front of her with a solid thud, holding it steady so she doesn't just fall forward when it swings. ]

This is stupid. Like— this is so fucking stupid.

[ He sighs. His arms cross and he looks slightly off to the side. ]

Yeah, well, I don't know what you're expecting out of me.

What we agreed on. We, you, even said right there with York we'd keep working on this shit. Is this gonna happen every time something you fucked up comes up? Days of you 'sitting on it' and not talking to me?

[ She's keeping her voice down, low enough that only he should be able to hear her. There's the rough edges of frustration and hurt in her voice, but there's no yelling here. ]

[ He lets out a grunt, his eyes turning to look in hers again. ]

I didn't mean to... I don't mean for it to look like that's what's happening.

[ She sighs, thumping her head against the punching bag once, twice, three times before lifting it again to keep looking at him. ]

Well it's kinda what it's felt like. We talk about the ways I've fucked up, and things go— fine, y'know, but we talk about you and suddenly I'm left in the lurch for days. Over a week. Whatever it is. I don't know.

[ The scales tip more towards hurt than frustration. ]

[ He shakes his head. ]

It's just been this particular week, that's all. I didn't mean to...

[ He frowns. ]

I keep just going around in circles about the whole conversation in my head and before I start sorting things out I get upset again.

Are you still getting hung up on the whole— two years thing? Or the rest?

[ She's not even sure what she thinks she can do with the answer either way. Fuck, she knows she was resistant to people trying to talk to her about shit once, hell maybe she still can be, but that was over objectively worse shit than her calling him condescending. ]

I almost fuckin' said something when you posted that network thing, just— decided I should've still been waiting on you, or whatever.

Both. Everything. All of it.

[ Arms still crossed, he looks off to the side again. ]

I don't know how to sort out 'North's a condescending prick' from 'North needs to just act like a brother' and the rest of it is too big in my head to get around it to even start.

[ One hand goes and swipes at his eyes, in a quick motion, pinching toward his nose, before he recrosses his arms. ]

I never should have forced you off that ship. That's what it all boils down to.

Edited 2021-11-09 19:22 (UTC)

Technically, I didn't call you a condescending prick. I called you a condescending asshole. There's a difference.

[ It's an attempt at humour, but it's strained. She sighs, again, digs her teeth into the inside of her cheek. Something in her chest twinges, and she dares to hope that's a little sign of progress, but she's equally prepared for the other shoe to drop and find out it's a somehow backhanded admission. ]

But— yeah. Yeah, that's...

...I would've come anyway if you'd explained, you know. Or— or I think I would've. This me would've, I guess. I can't speak for her anymore.

I felt...at the time...like I didn't have the time to. But that doesn't excuse it. And I, I really am sorry, now. That it happened.

[ He's not crying, not like when they were having the original conversation, but he's pink around the eyes. ]

I...don't think I ever did really explain the entire situation properly after that, either. At the time, it felt like I'd done what I needed to and the rest didn't matter.

[ She can't fully let her guard down yet, she just can't. These conversations take rapid turns too easily. But her face softens a little, and she won't admit it aloud but he was right that an apology right then and there when she mentioned it wouldn't have felt genuine. This... feels less forced. Not perfect, no, but less forced. ]

Yeah. Yeah, that's... that's kinda what I figured. S'like me and York were saying, y'know. You decide you're in the right, and nothing outside that fuckin' matters anymore. Just gets thrown out with the trash.

...s'nice to hear you apologise, though. Thank you.

Yeah. You're welcome.

[ He's frowning still, though. ]

You... If...

[ He clears his throat and swipes at his eyes again. ]

It's... it's like this. Part of me feels like it's really shitty that I'm apologizing for something when you did worse. But it's just...the problem with it is, it's my fault in the first place. The whole situation.

[ He jabs himself in the chest with his thumb for emphasis. ]

My. Fault.

[ Now he is on the verge of tears. Which is not something he wants to be, here in the gym. He presses his lips into a line and makes a few little head jiggles that make it apparent he meant to continue talking, but also his face is on the verge of crumpling if he tries to spit out any more words. ]

...Drew. Come on.

[ God, fuck's sake, that's not— some bitter part of her wants to point out that for all that what she did was worse, only one of them has ever caused direct, physical damage to the other, the rest of her wants to scream because that's not what she said. That's not—

There really is always something. She sighs, steps closer to rest her hands on his arms. ]

Look at me.

That's not what I fucking said. That's not how this works. That's not... what I did is my fault. Because I did it.

[ There's something else on the tip of her tongue that she just doesn't have the words for. Something about this just makes her think again of how he admitted he can't seem to let her face the consequences of her actions. ]

[ He looks at her when she says to, but then shakes his head, dipping it and swiping helplessly at his leaking eyes. This is embarrassing and also not helpful to the whole situation. He clears his throat hard, trying to get his composure back.

After a few deep breaths through his nose, he manages: ]

You were there 'cause o' me, though.

Yeah, I was. But I could've left, y'know. I could've done literally anything except what I did but I still did it. That's not your fucking fault.

[ She squeezes his arms where her hands are rested. ]

Fuck, Drew, there's a lot of things that are your fault, okay? There are. But that isn't— that literally fucking can't be one of them.

[ He's not past the sniffling and the stifling of his crying. He's fucking embarrassed because, of course, people are looking. Not hard to miss a couple of giants having a private talk in the middle of a gym. He shakes his head again, blowing out a sigh after a few aborted attempts to take another deep breath. ]

I just feel like shit that you were alone after trying to... You said, you were just trying to get your brother back and...

[ Though who knows what that would have looked like, with Theta having been taken? All he knows is he feels horrible that South was left alone after all that. ]

Yeah, I tried to get my brother back by letting him get hurt instead of any other fucking solution. Sure, you really, really sucked at listening to me but that's still not...

[ She groans. Dropping her head forward, she breathes out, in, out again, then lifts her head. ]

...do you wanna go back to your room or something?

[ She'd just as soon give everyone in the place death glares to make them back the fuck off and stop staring, not that she's sure that'd work on most of the clientele here, but. ]

We can walk.

[ Outside would be better, being home would be better, anything that's not being stared at in the middle of the gym. ]

Okay, c'mon, let's get our shit and go, okay?

[ She gives his arms another squeeze, and throws everyone looking at them a death glare anyway for good measure as she turns to go grab their stuff. Starts unwrapping her hands on the way.

As soon as they have their things, they head outside and she bumps him with her hip in lie of squeezing his hand or something. ]

...at least it wasn't, like, yelling?

[ He has his bag on his shoulder and is staring down toward the sidewalk as they make their way along. ]

I'm crying.

[ As sensitive as a guy he is, he knows most of the types who frequent places like Patch's are not into seeing men cry. ]

So, you're saying I should've just started yelling?

[ It's another weak attempt at humour and she can feel it fail even as she says it. She sighs, shifts a bit so she can wrap her arm around his back without stopping them walking. ]

...sorry. But anyone who'd be a dick about it can go fuck themselves.

Yeah. I know.

[ As much as he'll feel that later, it helps to have her say it, because he was embarrassed. ]

[ She'd be fucking mortified if she'd started crying and nothing would change her mind, so she gets it. She gives him a squeeze, bumps his shoulder with her head. She's going to wait until they're back in his room to even think about starting this back up again.

Once they're there, she lets him put his bag down and stand, sit, wherever he wants, before firmly but gently repeating a sentiment from the last time they were talking about this: ]

Me being alone was entirely my own fault, Drew. Entirely. I was alone because of my own selfish fucking choices, just like I probably fucking died because of my own selfish fucking choices, and none of that is your fault. None of it is something for you to fucking feel bad for.

[ She absolutely does not catch what comes out of her mouth in the middle there. ]

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