aionlogs | [open] you know what your problem is?

Entry tags:

[open] you know what your problem is?

WHO: Amos, any Kenoma
WHAT: Amos rewards himself for being cured of Innocence by going on a depression bender.
WHERE: Throughout Achamoth
WHEN: Towards the end of/after the event
WARNINGS: Depression, self-loathing, a little suicidal ideation, lots of drinking, references to brothels, discussion of domestic violence/sexual assault/prostitution/child prostitution; will update as necessary

[ So, this sucks.

Getting out of Venera as soon as possible had been the only thing on Amos' mind once Misa had forced him out of Innocence's grip. That thing had exploited his vulnerabilities, manipulated him, turned him into a puppet to spread its nonsensical, fucked up ~~somewhat understandable~~ agenda, and he needed to leave immediately, before he fell victim to it again.

His legacy's shrine is one of the closest to Achamoth. Easy.

He had to swim across a lake and spend days walking across farmland in waterlogged boots before he actually made it back to the city. Less easy.

Though for all of the personal discomfort and frustration that brought with it, it was readily ignored by spending that time mentally reviewing everything he did while he was fucked in the head, now that he could with proper context. All of the harm he'd caused, all of the ways he'd refused to listen to reason, being reminded of the fact that all he's really good for is ruining other people's lives. Turns out that sucks.

Then there's the fact that ever since an initial mishap during one of his first days in Achamoth, he's been careful to not go out into the city with his shard exposed — but since anything he'd used to cover it up had ended up getting destroyed in Venera, he has no choice but to subject himself to. This. When he's the last person who should be revered or admired in any way, and now he has no way to avoid it.

The first stop on Amos' list is somewhere that can get him clothed again, courtesy of I don't have any money but I am an Aion can I please just have a shirt now. All subsequent stops are, well... ]

i. so just drinking and fucking

[ Going back to the Citadel isn't even remotely on his mind, certainly not when he's got plenty of self-pity to wallow in.

Amos sticks to the seedier parts of Achamoth, weaving his way through various bars and brothels as the mood strikes him. He still doesn't have any money on him, so it's a whole lot of showing off his shard to get either free booze, comped sex, or serve as a credible IOU (and one that, to the meagre credit he has left, he'll actually fulfil once he's had the chance to get his head back on straight and reacquire finances from the Citadel). It isn't hedonism he's fully sinking into so much as I'm a bad person, I feel like shit, I'm going to do things that physically make me feel less like shit. There are worse coping mechanisms, he figures; if there actually aren't, he doesn't care.

He ignores all communion messages he feels coming through; the best anyone can hope for if they try to reach out to him directly is a tacit acknowledgment that he's still alive, combined with maybe a somewhat hazy impression of his immediate surroundings, if that latter part ends up slipping through.

That, or maybe you just so happen to run into him in some shithole dive bar or upon leaving a brothel.

Either way, there really isn't a whole lot he can do if you end up in physically the same space as him, is there. ]

ii. till they run out of one or the other

[ At some point, he actually does have to go back to the Citadel.

He's clearly worse for the wear when he finally shows back up there, rough around the edges when he finally delivers his report to Xishen — several days late, but who's counting — and then has free reign of... well, not the entire place, but the usual.

Fuck, does he need a shower. And a nap. And maybe another drink, because why the hell not. Even though he may not necessarily look it, Amos is certainly feeling better; otherwise, he wouldn't have ended up back here.

Maybe he's dishevelled, maybe he's finally had the chance to clean up; maybe he's briefly roaming the hallways, maybe he's taking advantage of having his own spacious room again. Either way, he's certainly more receptive to company, having gotten most of... that... out of his system in the city.

Though Amos isn't forgetting how easily led astray he was, all in the name of hurting people, anytime soon. That part still bothers him, but when hasn't that been a regular part of his psyche, anyway. ]

iii. wildcard

[ I'm at arii#6412 or

cadiai if we need to talk specifics. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ The normal thing to do would be to check in.

At least, Matt thinks that'd been normal? Sending Amos a note or offering a small psychic nudge to the effect of hey, how are you doing now that that's all over would be the literal least Matt could do to make sure he's okay.

Except that every time he's about to do that, doubt starts to gnaw. Shame that he couldn't pull Amos out of the contagion's winged slurry. Shame that he used every dirty trick at his disposal, every scrap of information shared in confidence, and it still didn't work. Then he starts wondering of Amos even wants to hear from him right now. He said they were each other's "people," but that was before Matt threw the r-word in his face for no reason. In his experience, nothing is as conditional as family.

When Matt gets back from Venera, he throws himself into researching the other Legacies. That seems like something practical for a graduate student to do. At some point one late night, Matt's feet lead him not straight back to his own room, but on a meandering path that takes him down the hallway where Amos' room is.

When he spots Amos in the corridor, it can't really be called kismet. But Matt'll take it. Sometimes you gotta make your own serendipity. ]

Hey, um--

[ Matt means to say something brittle and cheery about fancy meeting you here. He can't manage it. All he can do is lift his hand in an awkward wave. ]

Hey.

[ He looks up when he hears Matt's voice. Amos had just been on his way back to his room after getting some real food in him, finally. He's freshly cleaned, he's ready to give his body a break— ]

Hey.

[ He doesn't return that awkward wave, just. Amos' mind flicks back to Matt's helplessness the last time he saw him; the helplessness he'd forced in him by being unreachable. The panic and distress he'd caused that he's now all too aware of, and he kinda feels a little bit like shit again, maybe.

He stops outside his door, looking at Matt with something of a pained expression on his face. Fuck. Fuck, he's really fucked this up too, hasn't he. What hasn't he ruined?

Eventually the wheels in his head start turning again. This isn't about him. Matt doesn't deserve that.

So, tentatively, ] Are you alright?

[ How badly did I hurt you, too? ]

[ Matt isn't sure what to make of Amos' expression, at first. His own anxieties tilt him toward seeing it as a sign that his appearance is unwelcome, that Amos doesn't want him here, that he's made a mistake in showing up.

But then Amos asks, are you all right?

And he doesn't sound annoyed, or mad. Hearing him, Matt thinks of a tender green plant, one hesitating tendril unfurling towards the sun. It stops him for a moment.

In a soft rush, he says, ] I'm fine. It was all a lot, but honestly I think I got off easy. I just mostly wanted to check on you.

And to apologize.

[ At first Amos just watches Matt, unreadable. He isn't sure if this is denial on Matt's end or if he's actually telling the truth, but really, he'll react the same way whichever it is: a moment of hesitation, something unidentifiable shifting in his gut.

(It's guilt. Or regret. Or sadness. Or all three; either way.)

He lets the dam break with a blink, a subtle slumping of his shoulders, exhaustion settling itself back in on him. He knew he wouldn't be so lucky to escape it that quickly. Doesn't deserve that. ]

You got nothing to apologize for. [ His voice is quiet but sincere as he doesn't break eye contact. This isn't him trying to deflect or make someone else feel better with platitudes; this is Amos owning his shit. ] I should be the one saying sorry. And I am. It's my fault you were put in that position. I did that to you.

[ ... Is it going to end there or what; Amos isn't sure. He doesn't make a move to open the door to his room, wondering if Matt would even want to be in the same space as him after all of that. He wouldn't blame him if the answer was no. ]

Oh no-- [ Matt protests faintly. For a moment, he's mirrored in his mind's eye; a ghostly double exposure of himself tells Amos no, no on that street in Venera. Then he recenters, landing back in the here and now. He shakes his head, gentle. ] Amos, no. You didn't do anything wrong. I can get feeling bad about what happened, like I feel--

Awful. That I couldn't help.

But it was an external force. It spread like a disease, but it was an entity that did all those things. It wasn't your fault it affected you.

[ Matt's being hypocritical, perhaps. Or maybe he is in denial. His questing, craning mind, concerned with future Legacy incursions and with the Aions' abilities to resist them, comprehends that Amos is blameless; he's just forgotten to put himself into that equation. ]

[ It wasn't his fault— ]

It didn't affect you.

[ At least from what Amos remembers, Matt was unaffected, trying to help him out of it. And, fuck, he wasn't the only one— ]

It didn't affect Ciel. It didn't affect Misa. People tried to pull me out of it, and I remember all I did was try to bring them in. Something's fucked with me, that that's what my reaction was. People tried to help me and all I could do was try to drag them down.

[ He shuts his eyes, reaches up to harshly rub at his temples with a hand. ]

Always knew I was a liability, but didn't need it spelled out so fucking clearly.

[ That hurts to hear. Liability. Fleetingly, Matt's reminded of what Amos told him about getting in trouble at work. Something about how he messed up and had to prove himself? Maybe the two don't have anything to do with each other, but his heart sinks with doleful connection. He has to imagine this is what oracles feel when they cast the bones and immediately spot bad signs in the scatter of ivory. ]

It did affect me, [ he replies. That, at least, is a fact. ] A couple of times, honestly. Ciel actually helped me once, and I don't know about Misa, but it definitely got to me. I was ... in a fog, for awhile.

[ Matt pauses. When he speaks again, his tone is rueful. He can't help the mordant curl of his lips, too pained to be a smile. ]

I thought I was back with my ex. The times when he was sweet to me.

There were some other things too, but like, that's what my mind gave me to pacify me. The sugar-spun version of something I already knew sucked.

[ ... Honestly, the lines Matt draws between Amos' past and present aren't all that far off.

He feels his gut sinking at his words, though, progressively deeper and deeper with every one of them. There's a pained hiss through his teeth at the mention of Matt's ex; Amos doesn't know a lot, but... he knows what he needs to know about that. More, really. ]

Jesus. And I tried to put you back there.

[ ... It just slips out. Really, it's further justification for how much Amos sucks, but... jesus. He finds himself leaning against his door, letting the back of his head hit it with a nice solid thunk. When he opens his eyes again, there's a newly pained look to them. ]

Fuck. Fuck, I'm sorry.

[ ... There really wasn't anything worse he could've done, was there. And as much as he can recognize this should be about Matt, Amos can't help that wave of self-loathing. To think that he thought that was a good thing at the time... He's been off his bender for long enough now, but actually, he feels (and possibly looks) nauseated all over again. ]

[ Matt's eyes shoot wide with alarm as he realizes where Amos has taken this. Fuck. He didn't mean to give him ammunition to self-blame, he was just trying to point out that Amos wasn't alone in succumbing, that people's psyches are stupid and Matt's is no exception. Now he sees he's rubbed salt into Amos' wounds.

He winces as Amos' head connects with the solid door. He reaches for him, free hand extending instinctively--but stops himself before he gets too close. ]

You didn't, [ Matt fumbles. His words feel clumsy, totally inadequate. If he could give Amos a hug, or one of those shoulder claps he's into, he might actually be able to communicate what he wants to: We're people, right? Doesn't people mean we don't write each other off? But he doesn't know that this is a shoulder-clapping moment. He stumbles on: ] You didn't know that's where I was. I'm just saying, you were not the only one who ended up like that. I wish I'd done better too, but it's not--

You didn't do anything to me. Please understand that.

[ He isn't sure what to make of Matt stopping himself from reaching out to him proper. Amos just stares at his hand, gaze clicking back up to Matt's when he starts speaking again, desperate and self-deprecating.

It shifts to a degree of understanding, though. And acceptance. Technically, Matt's right — Amos didn't do anything to him. Mostly because Matt had the fortitude to stop him, which... actually, he should be grateful for that, for several reasons.

After a moment, Amos pushes himself off from his door. He's still wary of touching Matt again, like he's not sure if it'd be well-received, either. But... ]

Okay.

[ If that's what Matt needs, for Amos to just get it, then yeah, he can do that much.

Though it still sits a little uneasy with him. The place he'd tried to put Matt back into, after the method Matt had tried to use to break him out of it. The commonality between the two of them, even though Matt just. Hadn't had enough of the details to make anything more than a dent.

It brings about an involuntary wince from him, his own thought process jumping ahead a little too far with no vocalization to give it context. It... almost feels like the kind of thing that should be addressed, though, even if Amos doesn't have the first clue on how to go about it.

He shifts to open his door, holding it open with his body; looks back up at Matt. ]

You can come in, if you want. Probably better than standing around out here.

[ ... Who knows if there's any way to address it, actually. Or if they just end up hanging out again. Really, it's... it's Matt's choice, now. For as much as he'd told Amos not to blame himself, Matt still deserves that much. ]

[ The wince has Matt expecting the worst, or at least fretting briefly about a concussion. A moment later, he realizes ... people probably don't get those from normal bumps ... and a moment after that, he wonders bittersweetly if that reaction is him trying to protect Amos like he tried in Venera. Too late, and flailingly.

But then Amos invites him in. Matt's surprised, pleasantly so. Maybe it wasn't the worst idea in the world for him to come and try to find Amos in person; maybe the chasm that seems to have sprung up between them is all in Matt's imagination, insubstantial as mist. ]

Oh, [ he says, as Amos holds the door open, ] that'd be nice, thanks. I'd like to.

[ Matt's words and expression are pretty stilted, but he moves easily enough as he passes Amos by to enter the room. (As ever, he's more at ease physically than in virtually any other aspect.) Once inside, though, he doesn't take a seat or otherwise flop himself down. Instead, he glances to Amos with a small smile--still a touch fretful, but curious and optimistic at bottom. ]

[ God, Matt is so good.

He really doesn't know what to do now that they're alone in here. Inviting Matt in had felt good. It was the right thing to do, he knows that. Give him that assurance. Try to prove to himself that they're still close.

And then he smiles at him, and Amos... can't return it. Not in action, just in sentiment. He feels a little lurch in his heart, like he's not sure if he's doing the right thing here after all or what.

So he just crosses the room to sit over at the foot of his bed, looking back at Matt along the way like, yes, he's more than welcome to join him. Matt had caught him once, lounging about before going to sleep, before he'd had a chance to get more furniture in this room. After that first dinner with the Regent, and the way he'd come to him seeking solace, and... had Amos given it to him? Shit. He hopes so. ]

Before. In Venera. You did everything exactly right to try to help me. [ ... When Matt had pushed forward, just came out and said it. ] If something like that happens again, you should do that again. Just rip the band-aid off. Don't think you should ever hold back.

[ Matt can't read Amos' expression, but the invitation comes through clear enough for him to pick up. He nudges his shoes off and comes to sit beside him. Unlike previous occasions in Amos' room, Matt does not do a college-dorm flop or otherwise sprawl about, but takes up almost a perch at the edge of the bed. As if he thinks he might have to flutter off.

When Amos speaks, Matt ... nods. Slowly. For a moment, he looks as if he's about to reply, but he closes his mouth. Thinks for a minute.

Then: ]

That's what I struggle with, I think. [ In a soft, careful tone. ] It felt in the moment like ... I tried to hurt you, to rip off the bandaid, only it didn't do anything. So it was like I hurt you for no reason.

Well. [ Amos' tone is thoughtful, with an accompanying tilt of his head as he faces Matt. ] If it didn't do anything, then it didn't hurt me, did it?

[ There's a degree of levity to him, a casual statement of fact, exactly the same as having to explain that the sky is up and water's wet. He's perched similar to Matt, albeit a little deeper on the bed, a little more settled in. It's his space. He can exercise as much authority as he wants over it, and he will.

Except then Amos falls silent. He looks down at his hands, folded together and resting between his legs just off the edge of the bed. Back up at Matt when he speaks again, holding his gaze and with full sincerity in his voice. ]

Yeah, I've been raped. A lot, actually. But it's never gonna happen again, so I think it's okay. Everything you did was okay.

[ Matt can't help a small smile at Amos' reply. He can't tell if it's a truism or a small kernel of usable philosophy, but either way, he kinda likes it.

The smile, of course, disappears as Amos goes on. "A lot." Fuck. Matt's still not sure if his counts as even one time. He mulls over possible words, decides that once again none of them are adequate, and plunges ahead anyway. ]

I'm sorry that happened.

And I really hope we're not in a situation like that again, where-- [ A pause. ] --people have to wake up. But if you think it was the right thing, I'll do it again.

If it's necessary.

[ Matt doesn't look happy about it, and he isn't. He hates the thought of being cruel. But he does want Amos to know he can be relied on, that he might stammer and hesitate but he won't shy away from doing the difficult thing if he has to. ]

[ He shrugs at the apology. Not like it was Matt's fault; not like there's anything that can be done about it. It just is what it is at this point.

At the idea of not being in a situation like that again, though... That's where Amos turns inwards. Yeah, he hopes for the same thing. But. ]

I want to kill the thing that did that to me. [ And to other people, but... that's beside the point for him, unfortunately. ] Which means it could get in my head again. The sooner I can be pulled out of it, the better.

[ He hasn't looked away from Matt once during all of this; he doesn't look away now. As much as he hates that this might be a necessity, fact of the matter is, Matt's as good a candidate as any to trust with this. He already knows part of the story; he's been through something similar; he wouldn't abuse it. It's really about as good as Amos could hope for, so. ]

I can tell you how to do that, guaranteed. If you want.

[ It's still his choice, after all. That's important to both of them, right? So no hard feelings if Matt doesn't want to hear anymore. He hopes that's obvious from his tone, his words, but who ever knows with him. ]

[ Matt's expression dims slightly when Amos says kill. Whatever Matt feels morally about destroying an incarnation of one of Horos' Legacies (something he'd need way more time to think through and gather his thoughts on), on a practical level he's not sure it's possible. But he's not about to challenge Amos on that point; not right now.

Instead, he nods, likewise not looking away from Amos. It seems like the least he can do for him in the face of what he's about to share. Matt's eyes are wide, their hazel a muddy gray-blue in this light, but they don't waver. ]

I want to know.

[ A pause, before he kind of trips into it: ] I'll tell you mine too, if you want. That feels ...

[ Symmetrical. Reciprocal. Fair. ]

If you think it'd be useful.

[ He doesn't pick up on Matt's lack of enthusiasm for the notion. Killing isn't a big deal to Amos; it's just something he does when the need arises, and there's a clear need here: that thing was a threat to him, it needs to be killed. Simple as that. He has no clue what the how of killing it is, but that can come later. This is more important right now.

This is... it is a contingency plan, but it's also more than that. This isn't really something Amos does. His past stays in his past. It's come up a few times, but almost never in a situation like this, no immediate need, no direct link. Just a quiet moment where they have all the time in the world, which is counter to their experience in that cavern all those months ago, funnily enough.

His smile is wry. ]

Why the hell not, right? [ There's humour in his tone, a self-deprecating smile on his face, but he doesn't really mean any of it. Just. It's there, this all sucks, but... ] Might as well get the full story after whatever the hell those first couple of days were. Really can't get any worse, can it.

[ He slips into silence, his expression going neutral, blank, along with it. Amos breaks Matt's gaze then, but only for a second. Looks off into a dark corner of his living space, and then back at him. ]

So, place I was born really wasn't that great. Mostly run by gangs. Cops and security forces and who-the-fuck-ever would occasionally come in, but really, it was status quo with a different coat of paint. Gangs had their territory for the most part, their trades. One of 'em was prostitution. [ A deeper inhale, a deadened expression on exhale, though his casual tone of voice doesn't change. ] Overpopulation was a problem, so government tried to keep a lid on that sort of thing, but... you know. Human nature. So if a prostitute gets knocked up, and then you got a subset of guys who get off on that sort of thing, then you let them carry the kid to term and...

[ He gestures at himself. You get me. ]

Only now gang's got a kid to deal with. So. They put them to work, too.

[ A beat of silence. He doesn't look away, gauging Matt's reaction, fully detached, before deciding to add a little more context. ]

I was five. Don't remember how old I was when it stopped. Just that it eventually did.

[ Matt was expecting something awful. But "awful" can mean such a vast and horrible panoply. Situations like these existed on his own world, and frankly Matt didn't think about them a lot. He was always content enough to hone his magical skills improving his own green corner of the world: Growing better gardens. Painting protective wards on buildings. Purifying drinking water. Compared to the story of Amos' childhood, it all feels so hollow.

Matt's face is pale, his expression sober. But he doesn't want to communicate something that's gonna make Amos feel like--Matt's not even sure. Like he's broken? Which saying "oh no I'm so sorry that's so horrible" can weirdly sound like--like you can't believe the person in front of you is even a person anymore after something so shattering. It can even sound like you think they're contagious. Untouchable. Matt doesn't believe any of that, but he's not sure how to say what he does believe. ]

Okay, [ he says at last, giving a soft nod. He hasn't looked away either, searching Amos' face for an expression he can make sense of. He doesn't find one, but he doesn't blame Amos for that. How are you supposed to look when you're telling someone this kind of story? Matt's jaw stiffens slightly as he adds, ] You're right, though. We're not gonna let that happen to anybody else.

[ A pause. Matt measures his words (inadequate, as usual) against his feelings towards Amos (affection, wretched sympathy, protectiveness, a deep-buried ember of righteous anger), and ends up with: ]

Do you want a hug?

It's okay if not, it's just-- [ He huffs a breath, a little frustrated with himself. ] It's the only way I know to show people I care.

[ Well... it's not like Amos has thought of himself as a person in a long time. Potentially ever, considering how young he'd had to break off parts of himself. He just... is. A tool, a weapon, and not much more than that, some crucial component to him missing.

(Not missing. Buried, and buried too deep for anyone to find again. It's there, not quite snuffed out of life, just something unrecognizable and inaccessible, and yet still a part of what drives him, even if he's unaware of it.)

His smile doesn't reach his eyes. ]

Sure. [ Amos' voice is light and noncommittal, but he's already kinda leaning in. ] I don't mind.

[ There's the sense that Amos is doing this more for Matt than himself, but he's happy enough to oblige. Everyone deals with shit their own ways and all that, and far be it from him to take something away from Matt when it costs him nothing. He's kinda well past the point of feeling anything, but he'll still tuck his chin in on Matt's shoulder, let him embrace him.

Eventually, he speaks up again, staring out at the wall opposite to him, at nothing. ]

If we can create a world where that doesn't happen... I dunno. I dunno if I can ever be okay or happy, but I think that'd be enough for me.

[ Matt figures Amos isn't getting as much out of this as he is, which is one more pebble of kindness to lay at his feet. Matt holds out hope of conveying some kind of genuine comfort to him, but the most it seems he can be sure of is that Amos isn't actively uncomfortable. Looking at his face, he doesn't seem to be; and when Matt winds his arms around Amos' waist, he feels surer. There's a lack of tension he thinks he can detect. Amos is warm, and his shoulder comes to fit neatly against Matt's shoulder. It's reassuring. ]

It's hard, [ Matt murmurs. ] It'll be hard in ways we can't even imagine, I'm starting to think. But I want that too. [ His arms tighten in a brief squeeze. ] I'll do my best to make it happen.

[ Matt's quiet for a little while. He has no confidence that he can communicate what he wants to just by saying so--and if he could, Amos has no reason to believe him. So he focuses on being present. On letting the compass of his arms say you're worthy of love and acceptance, while his heart beats I'm in this with you.

Can a hug do all that? Maybe not. But it's real--it can be felt.

Eventually, after the span of Matt's not sure how many breaths, he says over Amos' shoulder: ]

My ex said he'd kill me.

[ And then, to be punctiliously accurate: ] Sort of.

[ Amos shuts his eyes when Matt speaks at first, and when he finishes — when he affirms his commitment to making it happen — he nods, the movement causing the side of his head to gently rub up and down against Matt's. That's it, though. He's also quiet, but — he believes him. He senses that companionship, the kind that he's pretty sure has been with the both of them since they met up again outside of the cave. After getting a glimpse of what the other went through, after knowing that on some level, there's gonna be an understanding between them that may be inaccessible to others.

Of course Matt would want to create a world without that shit in it. Realistically, anyone would, but... there's a reason it exists to begin with. There are still people who have no problem participating in it. So it matters. That even if it'll be hard, it matters that Matt wants the same thing he does.

Amos cracks his eyes open at his followup, and for a moment, he remains perfectly still.

And then he brings one of his arms up, slowly, like he's not entirely sure if he's doing this right. Brings his hand to rest around Matt's back, a one-armed attempt at mimicking him without disrupting their current positioning. He doesn't want to do that, just... try to express to Matt the comfort he's tried giving him. ]

Dunno how you sort of that kind of thing. Someone says something like that, they probably mean it. [ Despite his somewhat flippant wording, Amos' voice is soft. He tilts his head further in, leaning his body in a bit closer to Matt. ] Fuck that guy. People like that don't deserve to live.

[ ... That really is the best he can offer. Condolences come hard for him; it's not like they make a difference, right? Just honest sentiment. Fucking abusers, really. Not that it should be a surprise where Amos stands, he's pretty sure, but... at least he can make that much clear. ]

[ True to form, Matt appreciates the touch first and foremost. The way Amos mirrors him, leans close, combined with the gentle contact of their heads, all comes together to form a line of communication that feels every bit as legible to him as spoken words. Matt appreciates those too, in a slightly different way. They're direct, for one thing. What's not to like about that? And Amos' voice is soft enough that Matt can tell he isn't criticizing him or anything, even right at the start.

Though it does leave him suspecting that he should clarify. ]

Well ... he's a vampire. He was. [ Matt realizes that Vincent, like everyone he's ever known or loved before Horos, is dead. He's probably realized this before, but he can't remember it feeling quite so lonely. ] The night we met, we were hooking up, and he said something like--I smelled so good, he wanted to drink all my blood.

I don't know if that's intent exactly. I don't know. But it did ... I felt a certain way about it. And then our actual relationship was pretty awful, so.

[ There. Surely that's enough context.

Possibly too much context, come to think, especially for a story that is in no way on the level of Amos'. Intellectually, Matt believes everyone's pain matters, but emotionally it doesn't work quite so neatly. ]

[ As Matt goes on, Amos' attempt at a hug grows stronger, from something tentative to more sure of himself. It's what Matt needs, it's how he expresses it, and he's always seemed to like being close, so Amos pulls him in that little bit further, arm no longer a passive participant in this. Moves his hand from being merely against Matt's back to his other side. He still doesn't bring up his other arm, but it's more of a proper embrace now. ]

Don't know what being a vampire has to do with anything. [ There are folk tales where he's from, sure, but... vampires weren't ever anything more than that to him. ] If you didn't want him to drink your blood and he tried to anyway, then fuck him. Conversation ends the second you decide you don't want it. Guessing from the sounds of it he kept pursuing it, so I'm glad he's dead.

[ His voice is still low, gentle, but it grows firmer as Amos continues, like: there's no room for argument here. There's no grey area, no wiggle room, no qualifiers. Dude deserved to die. A lot earlier than it sounds like he did, actually.

But he also wants to voice his commitment, like Matt did for him. So, ] We'll make a world without people like him in it ever again.

[ It's just as important. ]

[ Amos' gentle certainty feels like an anchor in rough seas. A weighted blanket to Matt's mind. He'd been on the verge of spilling out the rest of his self-blaming catechism, the things he's let take hold without fully agreeing to them: It's stupid that I dated him after that, isn't it is usually next on the list, or he could at least explain the whole ... vampires drinking blood thing. But the uncompromising tone in Amos' voice makes him pause. Whoever he'd be trying to convince with any of that, it wouldn't be Amos; Amos is immovable on this point. That's what his tone seems to say.

So instead, Matt sinks into their embrace, whatever words he might have said escaping on a sigh. He doesn't feel deflated, or cut off--he actually feels lighter than he thought he would at this point in telling someone all this. Like he's been freed from an ugly obligation. His head turns slightly, cheek resting on Amos' shoulder.

Strangely, he finds himself smiling. ]

Yeah, [ he murmurs. ] We will.

[ He doesn't know how he feels about Vincent being dead. But a world where future Vincents don't exist, who don't do the things that were done to Matt? That he can't see as anything but unalloyed good. His arms tighten around Amos in another brief squeeze. ]

Thanks.

(no subject)

baltimores - 2022-07-05 07:02 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[open] you know what your problem is?

ii

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw explicit discussion of sa

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw discussion of prostitution, child prostitution

no subject

no subject

cw: talk of sa/domestic violence from here

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)