lestercraft | TLV: IC Inbox

"Acceptance is not forgiveness, John," he snaps back. "Knowing you can hurt me doesn't excuse you from doing it, it just makes you a fucking arsehole and me look like an idiot. But I am going to keep fucking trying, because maybe one day we won't fucking kill each other over it."

There's a long silence then.

"Then nothing's changed. I'm still the scorpion on your back."

That shouldn't hurt as much as it does. But part of the reason it does is knowing how he'd fucked up, the terrible mistake he'd made. The ways Arthur was right.

At the same time, there was all of the work he'd done here, all of the ways he'd tried to make their friendship real and not... necessity. Not 'work'. Not Arthur struggling to put up with a thing that he's 'accepted' will hurt him.

Not Arthur probably thinking it's what he deserves.

He tries to push all of the emotion out of his voice as he moves on. He doesn't think they're going to change each other's mind here. And focusing on it-

After all of that, he doesn't have it in him to go at Arthur.

"How far ahead did you go?"

Arthur's mouth presses into a thin line, but his shoulders just. Slump. And he folds his right arm across his chest, gripping his upper arm with only two fingers so he doesn't lose his half-gone cigarette.

The new memories muddied things. He thought he knew himself, his own mind, but he knows now. He loses. To the King, to Kayne, to Larson. Having John in his life has taken every good thing he has, every possible thread of happiness and shreds it to pieces. Even before knowing him. Emily hadn't even done anything, just the misfortune of existing in his presence.

And yet, he knows. Time and time and time again. He will choose John. Always. Because he can't lose anyone else. Because John cares, as much as he hurts and as much as Arthur curses his name. Because Arthur wants him to keep being better, more empathetic, more... human.

And he doesn't care, apparently, how much he'll pay to keep it that way. To keep John.

He fucking hated destiny.

"Larson's manor. The- Yellow, a-and Matthew. We were making our way back to collect our things and hunt Larson down."

"I went farther," he reports. "We were driving to New York in one of Larson's cars."

That's all he says. He'd wanted to say more. He'd wanted to tell him about how it all happened. How he'd made the deal with Kayne. How Arthur had almost bled out. How John had stitched him together.

How they'd saved those people. How he'd trusted Arthur against all logic.

How he knows in that moment in the car, Arthur had trusted him.

But unlike all the suffering, all the mistakes, that doesn't feel real right now. A lot of things don't feel real right now. So he'll stick to the facts.

Edited 2022-12-22 02:55 (UTC)

It'll be easier later. When he hasn't just spent the week in some bullshit fight-or-flight adjacent mode, with all his shame on display and all the horrors to come boring a hole in his mind like a hot coal through snow. When the fact he fails and fucks up constantly in the future doesn't sting as sharply.

Whatever John is, he's not a scorpion. Or perhaps, whatever he himself is, isn't in a spot where a single sting is enough to kill it anymore.

"I-I don't--" His voice finally quavers, despite himself, and he grips himself tighter, a sharp self-admonishment. "Fuck. I don't want to remember this."

John disagrees. Mostly because now he knows more about what's to come. He knows about Kayne, an entity who has interest in Arthur. He knows about his deal, and about Arthur's. He knows about Yellow.

And because even with all the hardship, all the pain, all the terror, all of everything, at least he was there for Arthur.

"Should I-" he pauses and he doesn't know what he wants to say. He doesn't even know what he can offer. All of the things he's learned and tried here feel insufficient. Childish. "...do you want me to go?"

"No."

It comes out too quickly, but he doesn't flinch this time.

("Why not?"

"Because I can’t lose another person!")

He's not there yet. But they are more than they were, when they first arrived on the Barge. Have spent longer together, now, up until the- the pit, and done so in peace and luxury. They have earned this ease of existence, and they can handle all the fuck-ups and bullshit the Barge brings with it. Together.

He grips his cigarette in his mouth, so he can hold his hand out for the mask. Steady and waiting.

There's no hesitation for him either. Because he hadn't needed to see all that to know he'll choose Arthur every time. He's known that for...

Well, rather longer.

He brushes the mask by his fingers before sliding up to settle snug against his left arm as the life returns to it.

That's when he feels like he can say-

[You do save those people in the cave. All of them.

You choose that.]

His tension settles, fractionally but noticeably, when John's voice is back in his head - and more so when he hears that, and the next exhale of his cigarette is more of a sigh of relief.

"Good," he says. His voice stays quiet, just... appreciating the moment. And John for who he is. "I... th-the truth is, I can... here and now, I can see how I got to where I did. Why I was... what sort of monster I became, that I- I wasn't just willing to, to just ignore them and let them suffer - I wanted to. I-I couldn't-- there wasn't space in my mind, for anything less than. That."

[...you were much better after you had an apple.]

Look, it sounds stupid but he'd seen the difference it made. Packed lunches might very well be in Arthur's less horrifying but more immediate future.

That gets an abrupt scoff of laughter; and it's like a dam bursts, and giddy waves of quiet laughter bubble out of him, as that built-up tension finally finds release.

"Y-yes, I-" There's a hitch as he tries to control his breathing so he can speak. "I-I-I do tend to feel more- more myself on a full stomach."

[We'll look out for that. ]

Quiet determination and soft amusement; the usual delight at Arthur's laughter when it isn't at his expense.

[There is one other thing I want to settle. If you think you're up for it.

...it's not a bad thing. At least, I hope not.]

"Oh, well, it can't be too bad, then, if you hope not," he snarks back, but there's no bite to it now, just a tired fondness. "Go on then, John."

There's the grumpy growly noise he makes sometimes but it too has no teeth to it.

Then he takes a moment to settle himself so he can get to it.

[I-

I love you.

And I hate that I didn't work up the courage to say that before everything happened. Here or there.]

A pause before-

[I'm not expecting anything back.
That's not the point. I just... wanted you to know. ]

"I-- o-oh, I-"

A part of his mind can't help but rebel to the fact. The cutting tone he uses to slice John down lives rent-free in his own head and protests it viciously.

John knows him. John's seen every last loathsome thing he's done, now, he- they both know about Mr. Faust, and Larson and--

And... Faroe. John knows how unfit he is, to receive any grace or blessing, because who is he if all the love he had wasn't enough to keep her alive? What sort of broken man does that makes him?

The question back - well. That's hardly one at all, really.

"I do love you, John," he says, quietly and firmly. "Without question. That- why else would our victories be so sweet, o-or our arguments so- so raw and bitter. I just..."

His next pull of the cigarette is foul, and he makes a face. The fucking filters on these modern cigarettes are going to do his head in if the King fucking doesn't.

He folds one leg over so he can stub the butt out on his sole. "I just don't know what worth that might have, from me."

Edited 2022-12-22 12:45 (UTC)

He supposes this is his own fault, really, for adding this to a fraught discussion during a tender period. He had his reasons: that terrifying brush with their future had frustrated him, that the words were unspoken, that he might have to leave Arthur before he spoke them. And the wild trilling bell of sensation he feels in the core of his being at those feelings being returned is a direct counter to the emotional freight train blow from earlier, not that he thinks that's changed and he takes it as a personal challenge.

But now he has the problem that Arthur put himself out like that to him, spoke words that might as well be gold in every sense, words he will treasure as much as any poem... and proceeded to follow it up with the stupidest fucking thing he's ever heard.

'What worth'? The very core of his understanding of the thing, the source of his very means to love, to know what it is, it's value on a personal level, the very stuff that entangles them-

[You let me worry about that. Suffice it to say, it holds great worth to me.]

Edited 2022-12-22 13:57 (UTC)

That gets a soft huff. Just the single one, this time, with a soft tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Indeed."

He settles again, leaning on his elbows, but there's still an uneasy worry weighing heavy in his stomach, as his right hand plucks idly at the sleeve on his left.

Part of him still wants to protest it, still. That this was a horrible choice on John's part, to invest this in him.

"You... now that you've seen- now that you know everything, y-you--" His voice falters as words fail him for a moment, and he tries again. "Every person I have loved, John. I-I don't know if it's just truly rotten luck, or some- some cruel game something like Kayne is playing, or- or maybe it's just because it's me."

He takes a breath, and it comes out quieter that he means.

"Everyone I've ever loved, dies. Well before their time."

[Arthur...]

His heart is in the words, all of them, no matter how intense. Perhaps especially in such a case.

[There is no one on this boat who knows how much of a vicious fuck I can be. Which is why I promise you, Arthur:

I will do everything I can to stay alive, to not go back to the dark world. But if there's no way out? If there's no hope at all?

I will make sure to take you with me. ]

And he knows, knows, Arthur will understand the love in that promise. Because he, John, would hate that. But for Arthur, he will.

Edited (Cadence) 2022-12-25 17:28 (UTC)

His hand coasts down the short distance between his sleeve and their left hand: his grip coasts over their fingers, and there's a short thrill of horror, like a missed step when he feels that their pinky is still whole and intact.

(He thought he'd known what he was capable of. To have that preconception so thoroughly destroyed was a hard thing to reconcile. He still hasn't, yet.)

Then he shifts down and grips John's palm, giving him a brief squeeze. "Thank you, John. Truly. And- and I hope it never comes to that."

The hand squeezes back.

[We'll do everything in our power to make sure it doesn't.]

He can't promise that they won't get there, not after all that. But he's given the promise that matters. He won't die on Arthur. He'll do whatever he needs to to survive and get back to him.

Speaking of...

[...do you think Kayne can see what happens here?]

"I, er. I'm not sure." His thumb traces the lines on his palm, the familiarity and unfamiliarity of sensation lacking. "If he knew we were able to escape him, all of- all of that, wouldn't he have- tried to distract us, steer us away from the Admiral? Found us earlier, since he's apparently so capable?"

[I would agree. I don't think he can see into this place.]

A pause.

[But I'd like to check with the Admiral. Do you think that's a good idea?]

John curls a finger to brush just the once against Arthur's hand in return.

"I don't think so at all, actually. But I also get the impression that..."

He releases John, but only so he can run his hand over his mouth as he thinks of the right words.

"I get the distinct impression that, unless a person already knows of the Barge, they wouldn't be able to find it whatsoever. For example-- with everything that's happened- will happen, as well, I don't believe you were affected by the more, uh. Otherworldly aspects of it all."

The more mundane depravities seemed to, but that still felt more like a lack of prior experience on the receiving end of things.

"But even you don't remember what the Admiral looks like, and you described him to me. So, uh- as illogical as it sounds, logically there must be other places even your kin can't touch from our world, without an invitation."

Edited 2022-12-26 08:31 (UTC)

[Agreed. The various layers and timelines that are connected to the reality that we're familiar with are, to the best of my understanding, entirely disconnected from the kind of people and beings that are found here.
Meaning the Admiral is on a higher level of reality than even Kayne would be a part of.

Something he can't access.

...I still want to check, though. Just in case. I trust the Admiral to be honest with us. Especially because it's not in his interest to do anything else.]

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