who: helena and others! what: variety catchall for the month. when: end of july/ all of august. where: across the boat. warnings: likely discussions of death.
He feels like he abandoned her to that fate, as much as she would insist that he hadn't done anything of the sort. Even if they'd talked about it beforehand, even if he'd equipped her with something that he felt was incredibly important, it still feels like he'd done the crueler thing in having left her, and all of his friends, alone to that fate.
Maybe if he'd gone along, maybe he could have postponed this terrible, miserable revelation a little while longer...
"Honestly, even if they had done that, it was still blaring the most obnoxious music so it was really hard to avoid overall. I started trying to put together a cover, just to be able to drown it out."
"That's what Max said, that there was terrible music playing. And I couldn't help but laugh, because is this really the time to have a sense of humor? If that's even what it is?"
It was more a helpless act of confusion, not really laughing. It still doesn't make sense. But it helps just a little, that what she had said was still a secret.
"I think that was part of it. The dissonance of it all. If you don't look at the screens, you can still hear the awful music, and if you do watch the screens, you get the insult-to-injury of having that over the top of watching the people you care about dying."
He understands nervous laughter at least, the "I'm not actually finding this funny but my body wants to laugh anyway". He's not going to think less of her for it.
"For the most part. When you hear something that many times it's easy to match it and figure it out from there."
There's still a weird feeling behind his eyes and in his nose, but she's done well in talking him around from his breakdown. He's never had a true emotional breakdown before, he just knows objectively that that's what it is from having witnessed it here since his arrival. How weird and uncomfortable to bear witness to it from the opposite end...
"I think if we're looking at it like it's easy for me, it probably is in the way that humming along with something you've heard before is easy. I've been making music for a long time now and like, with all of if being self-taught, I guess picking up a tune like that'd be simple." Less downplaying his skill with it, and more realizing that he's never actually thought about it in these terms before. He just likes being a musician, man.
"True, but you're never going to make me think it isn't incredible. You've gotten to work on it and refine it into what you have now - all because you decided to do it."
Music is a safe topic, one to guide him into so that he can find his footing again.
"Whatever version you came up with, I bet it's miles better than what was playing...but I like your pieces the best."
Wayne enjoys playing his music for her, he likes presenting her new ideas, and telling her what inspired them. A battle theme, or something representing one of his friends, or just a fun thought that he wanted to extrapolate on. Covers have never really been his thing, even though working with Vance and the things that he wants to learn. That might be why they haven't made a lot of headway when it comes to trying to teach him past the most basic parts, because they want two entirely different things for their music.
He sags, resting against her with his chin coming to sit against the top of her head as she leans against him in kind.
"Eventually I'll be able to put together something whole again... There's pieces missing that we just don't have the right equipment here to figure out. It'd be cool if you come and hung out when I can do that," he offers.
"Any time, any reason. I like hanging out with you a lot."
Simple and true. Whether she's listening to his music, or they're getting to exist in the hot tub, or read, or anything else, she likes being around him. She'd even hinted a few times that when she has her current poetry in a workable state, she'd read it to him. Fair is fair, exchanging their art not to be judged on a technical level but to be felt and appreciated for what it is.
He's assured her that when she feels ready to, he would love to hear her poetry, or read it himself if she showed it to him. They could trade the things that they cared about, that represented their hearts in a tangible form. He trusts her enough to do that, and to accept what she offers in kind.
A long, thoughtful silence stretches between them, Wayne watching the unreal blue of the sky for some time, before he speaks up quietly.
"I love you. Whatever comes next, having you as a friend means everything."
For another long moment, there's nothing, only the sound of the water, the faint hum of the boat in the far distance, anything else that drifts from people living their lives. She breathes, steady, not betraying the way her heart latches onto that statement, holding onto it tight enough to leave marks from her nails. Whatever happens, that can't be taken from her. Whatever happens, this is still true.
Finally, it's soft. For his ears only, not for anyone else on this ship, to be pressed into the metaphorical flesh of his own heart and kept, meant with all of herself. Gratitude, promise, and honesty all in one. Words that are just big enough to hold all she feels without being too much.
The silence that spins out is warm, comfortable, full of the gentler feelings that she inspires in him even when it feels as if everything is coming down around them. She is to him what a lighthouse is to sailors trapped in a squall. She helps him navigate those terrible dark waters, and lets him know that in spite of everything, he still has something tangible and real where he can set his feet down and be able to take a moment to breathe and figure out where he's going. He can only hope that he can do something even half as much for her. He would happily bear the marks that she presses into his heart as she holds on by the ends of her nails.
When she replies, his head merely tips forward until his cheek comes to rest against her head, arms looped loose around her middle and resting easy there.
"D'you wanna go get something to drink? I'unno about you but that sucked and I need some juice and a soak."
The word comes out as a relieved breath, all the more meant for the informality of it. When she pulls back, it's not to really let him go, but to get off Wayne and stand, offering her hand to help pull himself up by.
"I think both of those would do us both some good."
She's not leaving his side, not right now. This is a transparent excuse for it, to stay in the comfort of his presence, and to let him know that even when the moment has passed, the support is still there. Like his skeleton under his flesh, so is is constantly near.
And now that the worst has calmed, self-care can handle the rest.
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no subject
That he wasn't forced into it. That what happened isn't etched into his mind like it is hers. There's a bleak sort of kindness in that.
"They could have blindfolded themselves. Somehow, no one seems to have thought of that."
no subject
Maybe if he'd gone along, maybe he could have postponed this terrible, miserable revelation a little while longer...
"Honestly, even if they had done that, it was still blaring the most obnoxious music so it was really hard to avoid overall. I started trying to put together a cover, just to be able to drown it out."
no subject
It was more a helpless act of confusion, not really laughing. It still doesn't make sense. But it helps just a little, that what she had said was still a secret.
"Did you manage to figure the cover out?"
no subject
He understands nervous laughter at least, the "I'm not actually finding this funny but my body wants to laugh anyway". He's not going to think less of her for it.
"For the most part. When you hear something that many times it's easy to match it and figure it out from there."
no subject
She says it, but shifts a little more - now she's resting on him more than clinging as if he'll melt in her arms.
"You know I don't make any secret about how cool I think your playing is."
Wayne is a cool guy, with a leather jacket and a guitar and he kills people by snapping his fingers. He's cool.
no subject
"I think if we're looking at it like it's easy for me, it probably is in the way that humming along with something you've heard before is easy. I've been making music for a long time now and like, with all of if being self-taught, I guess picking up a tune like that'd be simple." Less downplaying his skill with it, and more realizing that he's never actually thought about it in these terms before. He just likes being a musician, man.
no subject
Music is a safe topic, one to guide him into so that he can find his footing again.
"Whatever version you came up with, I bet it's miles better than what was playing...but I like your pieces the best."
no subject
He sags, resting against her with his chin coming to sit against the top of her head as she leans against him in kind.
"Eventually I'll be able to put together something whole again... There's pieces missing that we just don't have the right equipment here to figure out. It'd be cool if you come and hung out when I can do that," he offers.
no subject
Simple and true. Whether she's listening to his music, or they're getting to exist in the hot tub, or read, or anything else, she likes being around him. She'd even hinted a few times that when she has her current poetry in a workable state, she'd read it to him. Fair is fair, exchanging their art not to be judged on a technical level but to be felt and appreciated for what it is.
no subject
A long, thoughtful silence stretches between them, Wayne watching the unreal blue of the sky for some time, before he speaks up quietly.
"I love you. Whatever comes next, having you as a friend means everything."
no subject
Finally, it's soft. For his ears only, not for anyone else on this ship, to be pressed into the metaphorical flesh of his own heart and kept, meant with all of herself. Gratitude, promise, and honesty all in one. Words that are just big enough to hold all she feels without being too much.
"...love you too."
no subject
When she replies, his head merely tips forward until his cheek comes to rest against her head, arms looped loose around her middle and resting easy there.
"D'you wanna go get something to drink? I'unno about you but that sucked and I need some juice and a soak."
no subject
The word comes out as a relieved breath, all the more meant for the informality of it. When she pulls back, it's not to really let him go, but to get off Wayne and stand, offering her hand to help pull himself up by.
"I think both of those would do us both some good."
She's not leaving his side, not right now. This is a transparent excuse for it, to stay in the comfort of his presence, and to let him know that even when the moment has passed, the support is still there. Like his skeleton under his flesh, so is is constantly near.
And now that the worst has calmed, self-care can handle the rest.