come_sailaway | [Closed] Can you forgive me for trying again?

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[Closed] Can you forgive me for trying again?

Who: Rich, César, Johnny, and Watson
What: Rich gets a very strange regain, and doesn't realize it's meant to make him question everything his poorly constructed support network hinges on. Embarrassment ensues.
When: June 19th
Where: Cabin 102
Warnings: Likely mentions of alcohol addiction and child abuse.

[The day after the excursion team returns back to the ship is... peaceful, somehow. After the mess that was his conversation with Johnny, Rich had been expecting to wake up with a guilty migraine and the miserable nausea that comes after a good cry, but surprisingly, he wakes without much complaint, and after sneaking some more chocolate from César's drawer, he's feeling well enough to get out of bed, and is actually considering going to the buffet for something substantial to eat when he opens the door and is face to not-face with Friday.

There's envelopes in his hands moments later. He reads the top one, for César, and tries to protest these clearly aren't for him, but she's already off again. She's really bad at answering questions, huh? Granted, that's probably because she's too busy to stick around and have an existential chat.

Well, Rich doesn't mind being the mailman. He's pretty sure his roommate spent the night canoodling with his boyfriends, and now that he's checked the other envelopes, it looks like the other two are addressed to those men. He can get this done quickly before breakfast, surely. It just means he'll end up having to enjoy a good brunch instead.

He knocks on the door to the cabin before checking to see if there's a slipper propping the door open.]

Hey! Are you all decent in there? I don't wanna see a lick of PDA before I come in, alright?

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Rich is definitely in over his head, trying to relate to any of this. He understands a bit of why César was so protective of him now, if he had to deal with that kind of paranoia every day... but aside from that, he's floundering.

"It sounds like it'd be awful, looking over your shoulder all the time like that. Not to mention the weirdness of time for you. I mean... I've really only had part-time jobs once or twice, so I can't even think about what that'd be like, but it, um."

He hesitates for a moment, but forces himself to continue. "It really sounds like you let work take over everything else in your life. And now that you're on the ship, you have no choice but to let it catch up to you."

"That's the truth of it, really, and I'm glad you haven't lived through something like this, too." Even if Rich is floundering, the last bit hits the mark, and César looks up at him with a pained smile. "The paranoia is more necessary now. As is overworking myself. The people who could be trusted left. I'm the only one capable of doing a large amount of work necessary to save the world."

He shrugs, slowly. "... and now I'm idle. So, yes. It's catching up to me. I'm also allowing it, as this might be my only chance."

César hadn't meant to say 'only', and his brain doesn't really register it. This is still June. But sometimes, the subconscious tells on you anyway.

"Yeah... what I went through on the bullshit social ladder wasn't nearly the same as that. My high school reputation was on the line, sure, but it wasn't... as life-threatening." He doesn't know if relating it to the pressure he was under with the SQUIP will help at all, but at least he sort of can relate. "I wish none of that was stuff you felt like you had to do."

He fidgets in place, some of César's word choices making him all the more uncomfortable. "Here, you don't have to be like that. You can try to change. Try to train yourself out of all the things you had to do to survive." He squeezes his hands together to avoid reaching for César's. "Maybe we can both make the most of a second chance? Together? Um, if you want."

César listens to Rich quietly and can see the fidgeting. Yeah. This is the limit for the poor boy, and really, César has two grown men to lean on.

His smile widens and softens, the pain leaving his face. Raised between two cultures of overly tactile, people, César's not going to let that offer be answered with just words. César shifts slightly so he can loop a lazy arm behind and over Rich's shoulders, hand resting on the opposite one.

"I want that a lot." César smiles to him reassuringly. "I'm doing exactly as you suggested, too." He shakes his head and looks up to the ceiling for a moment. "Learning how to be happy, again. I've gotten pretty good at it, even! Enough that I can share that happiness with others."

To emphasize that, he squeezes Rich's shoulder. How quickly his emotions shift. ADHD is a damned trip.

Rich is desperate to help, but he's certainly not the most experienced with comforting people at all, much less people with issues like the ones César has had to face. He feels a bit like he's said something extra wrong, for a moment, but then he feels a hand around his shoulders and he breathes out a relieved sigh.

"I... I want it too." He can't look at the older man, but he nods. "I know it's hard for me to admit it, but... I'd like to try to be someone who's, you know... able to take the chance I have here." Even that much is hard to say, but he looks up to his roommate with a bit of a smile.

César won't judge Rich for not being able to make eye contact for a little bit. He's been there. That's a stupid social requirement anyway.

"You say 'like to try', but you're already trying." That reassuring smile grows. "Change doesn't come in a day. It's a process."

He's going to pretend he didn't sound a bit old, there.

Rich sighs and gives César a look like he wants to comment on how much he sounds like a grandpa, but he politely holds his tongue.

"Yeah, I guess so. I just tend to, you know, think it isn't enough. We're always our own worst critics, right?"

César has to bite back laughter at that look for a moment, and he nods. "I know what you mean. That self-critic was mostly quietly until recently, but once it got started...."

He gives an exaggerated wince. "It's nearly like drowning, isn't it?"

It started up the day he arrived at Providence. When he realized Rex was no longer okay with him being weird. The masking has begun immediately after that.

"Yeah... it sucks even more since the SQUIP. Not so much a self-critic when it sounds like someone else, right?" He frowns a bit, but...

"Yeah, I know what you mean. It's a suffocating feeling. Stifling yourself like that makes it almost hard to breathe."

"And then you get used to the lack of oxygen. You just don't want to exist, because you haven't been. And you want to leave so you don't have to see the last bit of yourself go."

César sees the mood shifting dramatically with those words, and honestly, it's a bit too far right after he said it. So he shifts himself closer and pulls Rich into a hug. Or tries to—the movement is gentle enough to make it easy to escape.

Rich surprisingly doesn't try to escape. He doesn't say anything, either, but... well, it's probably easy to tell just what he thinks about that.

Especially when he clings back to César, tight enough to drive some air out of him, choking back a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sob.

Oop, sure does draw some air out of him. But that's more than fine. César tightens his arms around the younger, and smaller, man. He moves just slightly to make angle the hug to be the most comfortable.

And César pretends like he didn't hear that sob, because that's exactly what Rich needs him to do. If César's learned one thing recently, it's that processing trauma doesn't happen all at once; it's a bumpy ride full of ups and downs. He just hopes that he helps Rich have more of the former than the latter.

Rich lost both parents the day his mother died. And, eventually, he lost his brother, too. It had just taken many more years than the short time it took for César to lose Rex the rest of the way.

Rich certainly hasn't learned what César has about processing everything that's happened to him. Honestly, he's a little bit frustrated, even as he squeezes his roommate a bit tighter. He should really be over some of this stuff... and hearing someone else voice the reasoning he used to apply should give him reason to comfort him, not just fall to pieces. Honestly, he can be such a baby...

"It sucks," he mumbles, after swallowing down another hiccup. "It sucks that you know how that feels. I thought the bullshit social hierarchy stuff would go away after high school. And after I got rid of the SQUIP especially... I thought I'd be able to breathe.

"But I feel like I'm just waiting for permission instead."

It's impossible to learn when you lack the resources. César didn't do it the normal way, either. He picked up technical journals and books instead of going for the quicker and easier to digest for-the-public articles.

Rich is earlier on in the process. He's only now gotten some support that he desperately needs. Support he's only just beginning to believe in. But César doesn't see this as being a baby. Not at all.

One of César's hands makes small circles along the middle of Rich's back. "My situation back 'home' is an extreme outlier that should be discarded for comparison, to be entirely honest." He hmms. "It takes time to learn how to breathe again after someone's been doing it for you. Small breaths, then work your way up to filling your chest to bursting."

"I hope you're right about that..." Rich mumbles softly. He knows their universes are different, though. What may be strange in César's universe might just be what Rich has to expect in his own, but he realizes he's being a bit too cynical.

He squints a bit at César before a tiny snort sneaks past his stern expression. "It's kind of... morbidly funny, I guess, talking so much about breathing when I fucked my lungs up not too long ago. I guess this is just going to have to be metaphorical breathing."

A bit of a laugh. "... I feel bad for laughing. But I hope I'm right, too. We really don't need anymore end-of-the-world scenarios after the one I'm dealing with. They might've been more accepting if that hadn't been the case."

He pauses for a moment. "... did they give you any instructions on breathing exercises or anything? I'm afraid I might have gaps in knowledge there."

"No! You don't need to feel bad, it's just weird." And he doesn't look bothered at all. "It's just that with the bullshit politics at home, I guess I get nervous once in a while."

He looks over at César with a shrug. "Yeah, for anxiety and stuff, but not exactly for improving my lung capacity. But maybe it helps with both?"

"I suppose so. And I get nervous, too."

César thinks about all of that, but then he takes a moment to simply ruffle the boy's hair. "It'll probably help in some way. Just exercising them while not exercising them too much. And you should probably start considering learning some sort of self-defense anyways."

The first part of the conversation is dropped for now. It was too likely to become circular.

Rich tries to swat away César's hand, but it's weak and half-hearted. His attention is elsewhere now, and it's a little harder to feel playful.

"Yeah? You think I'll be able to learn something that'll help? I haven't beaten up anyone except really scrawny nerds before..."

It's only for a moment, anyway, and then César just goes right back to letting it be a proper cuddle.

... Right. Rich is a reformed bully. César can't entirely hide the short shooting up of uncomfortableness on his face, but he gives Rich an apologetic smile.

"Ah, sorry." Really, he's not going to judge. "But... less beating up and more about getting away alive. That's what I'm training for, anyway. We're up against people with years if not decades of training and others with powers. Our chances of winning anything are basically a rounding error from zero."

Rich winces in turn, but he looks far more apologetic than upset about César's quiet judgement. It's a part of his life he just wishes he hadn't resorted to.

"It's cool. I'm the one who should apologize." He was a real dick, though he hopes he's starting to be less so.

"That... makes sense, as bad as it sounds. Can't really expect us to do much more than defend ourselves when we're both average humans." At least César is a super-genius on top of that...

César shrugs; he's not going to judge the kid for shit while he was SQUIPed. "You were forced into it."

The response is to not start a debate, but simply a statement of fact. Which. He's hoping the kid takes as a statement of fact.

"Right." César nods. "Winning for us is getting out of a situation alive."

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[Closed] Can you forgive me for trying again?

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We can probably wrap this thread up from forever ago aspodfiupawuer