unpocoloco | Daybreak IC Inbox

[He feels a rush of affection fo Héctor then, and if it were at all appropriate he might have grabbed his face and kissed him in gratitude. Instead, he settles for lifting his gaze to meet Héctor's, nods, and curses softly as he has to reach up and rub away a stray tear from his cheek. And he'd been doing so well...

But Héctor gets it, and of fucking course Héctor gets it, after their talks. One Ernesto is bad enough... Imagine there being another, an Ernesto that would go to such crude lengths to fool someone and who really would kill to get what he wanted. Haha.]

Y-yeah. I promise. God, if he fucking tries, I'm gonna kill him myself.

[He laughs a little, joyless and croaky, but it isn't much of a joke with how heavy and hollow his heart feels. To think he's gotten so rusty with his knife since coming to this school...]

If I don't think he's... [you know] You can gather a whole fucking mob, I don't -- I don't care. [He says, caringly, as he cares a lot.]

[~~He doesn't want to imagine.~~

He really isn't sure he does know. He's not sure of all too much at the moment.]

I'd really, really rather not have to do that.

[Along with the fact that Maverick cares a lot.]

Nobody has to die. Mind you, people are going to be angry. And all things considered, I can't blame them. Losing control like that is so much worse from the inside. And speaking from experience, trying to accept an apology from someone who has done something really terrible to you is... well, I couldn't do it. And that'll just have to be something Akechi accepts, whether or not there's a way to make things up.

You don't think I know that?

[He laughs again, and it comes out a little giddy this time even if he still can't feel any happiness at all.]

You don't think I'm fucking furious? You don't think I wanted to beat the shit outta him, after Toki? Fuck, if he wasn't so fucking pathetic --

[If Mav wasn't so fucking pathetic... But dimly, somewhere in his mind he registers Héctor saying he's speaking "from experience," and leans his head against his shoulder.]

I fucking hate this. Sorry I fucking -- just. Dragged you into it. After you went and calmed my panicking ass down back there and everything. Sorry.

[He lets Maverick rant. It's alright. It's only as the apologies start that he speaks up.]

Don't. I don't regret helping you out. And I'm really glad this wasn't just kept quiet for all that much longer.

[Because he's not sure this wouldn't have gotten worse.]

... It's a pretty shitty situation. I think you're more than allowed to hate it.

[Understatement. Fingers quaking, he moves to take Héctor's hand in his again. It's a small, stupid thing, but...it's what makes him feel closest to people.]

I don't know what I'm going to do. Not that that's...anything new, for me.

[His fingers curl around Maverick's and hold tight.]

You know what I think? I think people who say they know what they're doing are lying to themselves.

[He smiles just a little and leans to bump the boy's side.]

Do what you can. Just remember you can't make this perfect for everybody, so don't beat yourself up when all's said and done. You talk. One of you takes it to the faculty. After that's out of your hands.

[He nods before the works even sink it, but when they nod, he gives a slower, more minimal nod. Right. Out of his hands. After this, it's out of his hands. Even if he doesn't know what the fuck he all feels for Akechi, in this ugly mix of neediness, affection, and hatred, it wouldn't be something he had to deal with right away because Akechi wouldn't be his problem.

He shudders, and more tears fall now but he's breathing easier. His hand is in Héctor's, probably squeezing far too tight at the moment, and he feels grounded. Solid. Alive. He's not a skeleton and soon the stress of -- of almost five fucking months wasn't going to be just his and Akechi's problem anymore. God, that feels good.]

Jesus fucking christ.

[Aaaand he's sobbing while he laughs, and he wishes he wasn't because the laughing alone made him look like a fucking lunatic, but really, it's fine. Forget a drink, he owes Héctor a whole goddamn bar.]

[It's a very tight squeeze, one of those when the feeling is more in bone than flesh despite being the latter at the moment. But he doesn't let go or flinch.

The sobbing starts and he can't say he's surprised. He leans into the boy's side. He lets Maverick get it all out, opting for humming once again with enough time. And the he speaks soft.]

You're okay. Things will be okay. Or at least better than they were.

Y-yeah.

[He’s smiling — shakily, but still smiling — when he readjusts and looks at Héctor through wet eyes. God, he looks blurry. Tears are pretty bullshit, especially for being such a strong automatic response when he got overwhelmed. At least this time, he can say relief is in the mix, too.

As much as he hates the idea of Héctor pitying him, he can power through it with that swell of confidence and love. He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t suffocating under a problem alone.]

I’m f-fine. I can do this. I’m fucking good now, seriously.

[He smiles, fond, reaching over his free hand to run push back Maverick's hair. Then maybe help wipe at those tears a bit.]

Good. You're gonna do good too. Next time, come to me. Or literally anyone instead of bottling up. It'll save you the time feeling terrible about it.

But, how about for the rest of the night you take things easy? Unless there's something else we need to talk about.

[And finally, finally he feels like himself enough to draw back at the attempt to dry his face. Come on, he can do that himself, don't bring attention to it... Embarrassing. He pulls his sleeve over his palm and uses his forearm to try and make himself presentable again, looking away.]

D-dude. My brain is so fucking fried. You think I can remember if there's something else we fucking need to talk about?

[He laughs. He can't help it. It spills out in breathy snickers.]

Just making sure! Figure we can it out in one go!

Ay, but seriously, that was... I don't remember dreaming being so... adventurous? Vivid? Really intense.

Ain't you lucky, [he blandly says as a kneejerk reaction. Adventurous, maybe not, but vivid and intense? Oh yeah. Definitely. It wasn't something to envy, either, it straight up fucking sucked, at least in Mav's case. More importantly to him:]

You don't dream anymore...? I thought you sleep during the fucking day.

[He draws a hand back, pushing it through his hair as he laughs sheepishly. He knows how Maverick feels about... everything about this.]

Nnnnot exactly. When I said I don't get nightmares? That wasn't just me being lucky. Or not dreaming. I'm not here in the day, without pushing it. I'm pretty much just a body. No sleeping, no passing out, I'm on or I'm completely off. And, yknow, corpses don't dream. Or wake up if anyone calls them for that matter. Make sure to never list me as an emergency contact, on that note.

[He shudders a little, both a remainder of his emotions and a new chill from Héctor's words. Just...a corpse. Any old corpse, unaware and -- and rotting, right, he used to rot. In his shoes, his toes curl.]

Yeah, right. That'll fucking always be Mama, dumbass. Where, uh... Where do you...go?

[There's a laugh first. Then his eyes go down to the floor, hand rubbing at his neck.]

I, uh... I don't know. [He shakes his head.] I had beliefs before and I've talked to enough ghosts by now too that I don't really think there's nothing? But I've never seen anything or been anywhere. Not that I can remember anyway.

Kind of wonder sometimes if, maybe, since I managed to stick around in this sense that I've completely ruined any chance of anything else... [He's quiet, thinking of all too many painful thoughts. He shakes himself out, trying to pull back that cheer.] But hey, who knows! Either way, I've still got now. Makes it more like life, to enjoy it while it lasts.

[Wow, none of this is comforting. Thank you, Héctor.]

Right... Except you only get half the time and way fewer benefits. Hey, remember how like literally one fucking minute ago you told me not to bottle shit up because it'll save time feeling fucking awful about it? Thought you might've been onto something there.

[He opens his mouth, draws a breath, and points a finger up like he's going to argue. No words come out. His jaw works and then he slumps a little.]

... Do you really want to be dumped with an existential crisis after you just got everything else off your chest? And I mean... this isn't even something that affects anybody! [Until they die. And then find the afterlife devoid of him. He makes a face.] I'm dead, I died, there's downsides, I don't want to worry people. It's just what it is. You don't lose your wallet, get given some change and say, hey, this isn't my wallet. You just do what you can with the change. Even if you maybe miss the wallet.

[He shrugs weakly, and his voice borders on a mumble.]

I already have an existential crisis half the time anyway...

[his ptsd was fun like that sometimes. Before Daybreak, he'd gotten used to working up to as bets as he could get, but ever since coming to this place... He feels like he's slipping. Maybe motor-sledding down a steep mountain and crashing spectacularly against the base. Something. Who can say!!!

But...whatever. He sighs, makes one more pass at his face, then ducks around Héctor so that he can flop onto his back. Damn, there's good beds here.]

I dunno. Shit is shit. Feels unfair, like... You don't fucking deserve this. You want shit, you have dreams. You're...too fucking good.

[He frowns.] That's one of the least reassuring things you've ever said.

[But he can't say Maverick never says things that don't worry him. They get what they give it seems.

He waits a moment, considering, and then flops back too.]

I'm not that good. But thank you, I guess.

[He stares up at the ceiling, hands on his chest and legs hanging over the edge.]

Everybody dies. Nobody knows when it will happen. There's no guarantee and it's not owed to us. Twenty three might not seem like a lot but there are people out there who get even less. I... tell myself that. And I tell other people when they get upset. Like I've got some kind of otherworldly knowledge that makes me see it all clearer.

... I wanted more. I want more. Play for families I know, stay in town, sleep in my bed. Walk the streets without being afraid I'll be turned into a monster or be torn apart. I want to kiss my wife without being afraid of screwing up or... thinking how disgusting I look. I missed my little girl growing up. I'll miss my grandchildren if I ever have any. And I'll never grow old with Imelda. It's all just gone. Like that. The future was right there and the door slammed. When I actually sit down and think about it, not trying to make anyone else feel better either about this or something else, I want to scream.

[And scream, and scream.]

But it's my own fault. My fault I left. My fault I didn't go home sooner. My fault that I made family feel like I was the kind of guy who would just... leave. Heck, maybe the whole thing with Ernesto is my fault too, I don't know. All the stupid things I did or said, it's totally possible. There's nothing to scream at except me. I'm flighty and stupid and selfish, self-absorbed, don't even care sometimes, I'm not... good. And I'm scared. I don't want to disappear. And even if there's... still something after for me... even if I have somewhere to go while I wait for everyone else to live out their lives... I still don't want to die.

That... that's probably the majority of that whole mess. I think.

Edited 2019-09-24 19:52 (UTC)

[The idea that that wasn't reassuring is pretty laughable, but mostly because he doesn't really know when the fuck he's said something that actually is reassuring. He just speaks his mind and sometimes makes people want to punch him. It was a good distraction, but not particularly reassuring. People should go to someone else for that. Case in point, he doesn't have anything reassuring to say now as he listens to Héctor let his worries out.

Finally, when it seems he's done, Maverick pushes himself back up to a sitting position.]

I used to do that a lot. Felt good, dunno why I stopped. Just got older, I guess.

[Whatever that means... Did he even listen to all that? Because he's not really reacting, or so it would seem. He hops onto his feet and heads towards the door, gesturing Héctor over to him.]

Come on, let's go.

[He wasn't sure what kind of reaction he was going to get. It wasn't this. Even being told to fuck off with all that would have been more expected.]

You used to... what?

[He frowns. Maverick gets up and he follows, bewildered.]

Uh... okay?

[Conversation over he supposes.]

[It's fine. It's all fine, and it will continue to be fine as long as Héctor follows him even while he doesn't explain. He isn't silent, but his intention to not reply is exceedingly clear with how he starts to whistle to himself while making his way through the inn. He stops at a staff only door to take out his ring of keys and odd keychains so they can get through and go up the stairs. Up, up, up and onto the roof.

Compared to the rest of the place, it's patchy and unkempt; the Maverick to the inn's warm, friendly, reassuring Ramona. View's alright.]

Heeeere we go! The ol' screaming grounds. Go on, let 'er have it! Or if you're shy, I can scribble down some soundproofing, but all open as fuck up top, I dunno how much it'll fucking work.

[standing in the rooftops everybody scream your HEEEEART OUT!!!]

[Ooookay. He's getting that there's something up, and he's following and he's not asking (yet), but the bewilderment isn't fading any time soon.

They get out the door, to that patch unkept place that makes him think of singing songs with the poor, crazy, and lonely, around burning garbage cans, pretending he was one of them when he was little better than a ghost. Aching, bittersweet, with the sky above full of stars. The air is wonderful. It does remind of Maverick.

He blinks at the kid. Then at the roof.]

You- I mean I--

[He's done gritos. He's done those a thousand times and shown then off. But those were joyous. Maverick is asking something else entirely. Pretty much the exact opposite of anything he's ever done. Even playing guitar in his youth to make himself feel better, he was trying to grasp happiness not... everything else.]

Are you sure this isn't going to, I don't know, get...someone to...

[His face goes blank as he remembers, eyes glassy. He remembers just one time when his cries weren't quiet, when he called for mercy and called for blood. He remembers then because no one heard. And no one came. He shivers. For a moment his body flicker with light.

The way he and Maverick push themselves forward through things is so very opposite. But what has he got to lose? He's got no other ideas. The worst case is that he goes right back to what he did before. Pretending he's got it under control. He's okay. He's not aching inside every day and flinching at movements in the dark, not mourning anything.

Again his body flickers, sporadic, spasmodic, but it doesn't come with real pain like he's fading out. Just memory. He walks ahead, looking up, drawing one breath, then another.

He turns his face up to the sky...

What rips out becomes less a scream, and more of an agonized howl. He can almost hear the monstrous overtones that once wove with his voice. And he can feel it, the cut of a psychic blade, the gnash of teeth, the digging in his arm, every wound ever inflicted by those hunting him down, the anger, swinging his guitar to smash it, running bare foot across the Outlands, hating and hating and hating one thing even more than the secrecy. He screams until his throat is in pain and the flickers of his body grow too great.

His voice catches. Like a string cut puppet, where he was, a skeleton drops to its knees.]

Edited 2019-09-25 00:39 (UTC)

[He goes to answer, but he's held back by the odd flashes of light. It's unfamiliar magic, and most magic is unfamiliar to him, but he can't help but to think it's as beautiful as it is weird. It reminds him of a lighter being held up and waved in a gentle, reverent arc. A breeze would pass by, and the flame would flicker at the sudden resistance, and then it would come back strong just like before. Maverick shifts his weight so he's standing on the back of his heels, watching, waiting, and chewing at the inside of his cheek. Just gotta give the guy a moment.

When Héctor does let loose, he inhales sharply and closes his eyes as if that's what's letting the anguished cry fill him up inside. Like the magic, one could find it beautiful if looked at from a certain angle. He remembers the old days, the days where his biggest problem was that he'd fight with Ramona five times a day, then go around smashing things before coming here to scream until his lungs hurt. Things were a lot simpler then... He's come a long way and still survived. Héctor's howls are a reminder of everything he'd gone through, too. Sure, he might be a dead guy, but...he was still a survivor. He was standing here as very loud, very heartbreaking proof. The temptation to join in is there -- it had been his plan -- but now... It felt like it would take away from the power of it. The reclamation.

Mav opens his eyes again as he's left listening to an echo and a ring, and he's over as fast as his heart is beating.]

Hey.

[Before now, and with any other skeleton, he would have hesitated, but his hand instinctively goes to grip the man's bony shoulder as he drops beside him.]

Hey, hey. All good?

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belated cw: torture ment, suicide ideation ment.

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