anomaly 009 . excuses, excuses

[dinosize]

[ private to Bucky, thursday morning ]

[ He lies blithely and calmly. His truths are generally understatements, so the worst tell he could possibly give is putting too much emotion and too many words out there. ]

Sorry, can't make it in today. Wrenched my knee a bit on the stairs yesterday, and it'll need a couple of days before I'm sure it's fine. Won't be any good to anyone if it gets worse.

[ spam : CW for injuries, blood, vampire things, very very unhealthy post-death mental thought processes. ]

[ He stays in.

The adrenaline crashes fast and hard, and he takes a short and fitful nap, waking up with his heart pounding and anxiety receding into his subconscious. The restlessness doesn't stop. He paces, he rearranges books and drinks enough water to restore blood volume.

He doesn't understand what's happening to him. He feels insane, and then he feels saner than he's ever been. He remembers the rush of darting so close to death and not being the one to decide if he comes back or not, and thinks, What's wrong with me? and I want to do it again. It's the first time he's felt really alive since - since dying.

Stephen has jumped off cliffs and out of planes before. He's dived down sharp slopes with the wind blistering cold on his skin. Half the fun of the anomalies was surviving, just his wits and his weapons. This felt a little bit like that. Only, more. It taps into a darkness that's been shifting and surging for weeks now.

Speaking as a mammal, I'm all in favor of cheating. So he's run into a predator that he can't beat, or didn't beat, one who all but promised he would come back.

One thing is sure: he can't tell them. They wouldn't understand.

Helen, he thinks. Only Helen would understand how this feels. ]

Comments

[dinosize]

Or close enough, right?

[americasdirtiest]

Christ, then why did you even-- [He breaks off, eyes flickering in that particular way that Stephen is probably starting to learn, the one that means Mickey won't -- can't -- say what he really wants to.

Why did Stephen even bother with him? is what he would ask if he could. Why make him bouilla-fucking-baisse? Why try to get him better at shooting? Why worry about his safety? Why care?]

I mean, what's even the fucking point, then? Why even be here?

[dinosize]

For a second chance.

[ One he doesn't fuck up this time. ]

[americasdirtiest]

So fucking take it, dude! Don't be such a fucking pussy.

[dinosize]

I am.

[americasdirtiest]

By getting-- getting yourself attacked by vampires and bitching about how none of this is real?

[dinosize]

By being here.

[americasdirtiest]

I meant here! Now! You wanna live so bad, just-- okay, you're living.

[He presses his lips tight together, looking a little exasperated. This is all a little beyond him to begin with, and now he feels like they're talking in circles. He rubs his forehead, looking around.]

I mean, you-- you got a roof over your head, you got food on the table, you got your fucking bestie down the hall from me, and I know your ass could get laid here any time you wanted it to, so... what? What's missing?

[dinosize]

[ He has a response building, but the last part of that just derails all of it. His mouth moves, silently, then - ]

I could get what?

[americasdirtiest]

...Not by me, but.

[dinosize]

By who, then? The lot of teenage girls?

[americasdirtiest]

[Mickey looks a little blank, not entirely sure how to respond to that. Stephen isn't, like, Iris old, and his fellow teenagers all seem to know what they want pretty well. Besides, there are plenty of other options. Right?]

Is that what this is about?

[dinosize]

Ah - no.

[ It really isn't. ]

[americasdirtiest]

So what the fuck is it?

[He knows, really, that they're just talking past each other, but he doesn't really know what to do about it except just... keep pushing. It's not often that he wants to help someone, but now, for once, he knows he would if he could. If he can. If he can just get, like, a grip on what the fuck is actually happening here.]

Come on, Hart.

[dinosize]

What are you expecting, some sort of secret? I died! From quite a few things with claws and teeth! It wasn't fun!

[ He's starting to get angry. He doesn't like this - doesn't like being the one pushed. ]

[americasdirtiest]

I know! I know you died! I fucking heard already! But you ain't dead right now, now are you! So stop being so fucking dramatic, get the fuck over yourself, and-- and stop getting bit by vampires!

[dinosize]

[ Mickey, too, Stephen realizes.

They all just don't have time for this. The only one who'll put up with Stephen being dramatic is Nick, and that's because Nick thinks he deserves it.

So there's a moment of silence, here, and then, quietly, Stephen shuts down. ]

Fine.

[ It's quiet, and resigned. He doesn't know why he expected more than this. ]

[americasdirtiest]

Fine!

[He's not perceptive enough to pick up on the change. He hasn't grown up enough for that kind of subtlety or sensitivity. And Stephen's right, in a way: he doesn't have time for this, because to him it's just a way of wallowing, and if he started that, he thinks he'd never stop. He's already been too, too close, dangerously close last year. If he goes now, he might as well just turn into Ian, mute and miserable under the covers.

Stephen's dead and there's nothing anyone can do about it right now. He doesn't know how to offer anything to that but ignoring it.

And maybe there's a part of him that's aware it's not really enough, because he blows out a frustrated breath, pacing a few more steps, running a hand through his hair. But he doesn't argue anymore, and after a minute, he rubs his eyes and sinks down into a chair.]

[dinosize]

[ Stephen stays quiet, watching Mickey.

He'd thought that was going to be that. He'd thought Mickey was going to leave.

His arms are crossed. ]

[americasdirtiest]

[He doesn't seem to notice for a few moments, too caught up in trying to wind down. Mickey will always notice someone else's eyes on him sooner or later, though.

Unfortunately, the precious few seconds spent cooling off turn out to have done him no good, because as soon as he catches Stephen's folded arms and the look on his face, the dial turns right back up to 11. For once, he doesn't even try to hide the bitterness in his voice.]

Oh, right. Fine. Thanks. Good talk.