maskormenacelogs | closed to odin, lando;

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closed to odin, lando;

WHO: Poe and Odin, then Odin and Lando
WHERE: Nonah, a public park
WHEN: Mid afternoon new years eve
WHAT: Fallout.
WARNINGS: this is going to get emotionally painful very fast i'm sorry everyone

Poe was smoking.

He hadn't really smoked a whole lot, before Christmas, but since then had made it a bit of a terrible habit. He hadn't really found it necessary, before. His nerves were usually pretty good, even after Kylo Ren, even after the war. Sure, as soon as he was asleep that was a different story, but back home he knew what he was facing and what he was doing, even if it was simply flying face first into death.

Here?

Here, not so much.

The cigarette gave him something to focus on while he waited for Odin. He'd sent the text message maybe thirty minutes ago, with this time and this place stipulated. Had tried to keep it as casual as possible, but it was anything but.

Things had changed. And Odin deserved to hear it from him, before anyone else.

Even if Poe would quite happily rather fly into the sun, at the moment.

You did this to yourself, Dameron, the voice in his head reminded him. He sighed, tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette and taking another long drag. Considered, briefly, the alternative of faking his own death. But no. He was no coward.

Or at least, he refused to continue to be one.

So he just stood there, back leaned up against a tree, the hand-stitched Rebellion symbol placed prominently on the shoulder of his jacket, as it always did. He wasn't wearing a scarf.

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He never took things as casual, when they came from Poe.

That message sent his heart hammering through his chest, the thought of a meeting setting his veins on fire. The first few minutes after reading the invitation was, of course, as wonderful as it always was - hope swooping through him, making him think something good was going to happen, because of course it was, he was going to see Poe. It changed, and all his hope fell to his stomach, when he let himself think a little too hard on this - why did Poe want to see him, what fucked up, stupid thing has Odin done this time - and he's worked himself into a mess, by the time he drops down in Nonah a few metres from Poe. He's been practicing using wind magic for flight a lot, recently.

He notices there's no scarf, when he walks over. He doesn't comment on it.

"Hey," he starts, clutching his hands in the long, orange sweater he's wearing, wringing the cotton. "What... um."

He swallows, dry, and the way he looks at Poe gives away his dread.

"What-- what... what's...?"

The wind flight was - genuinely - impressive, and Poe couldn't quite help the slightly dumbfounded expression that he made when Odin landed, the cigarette hanging so loosely on his lip that it looked like it was about to fall off. But he shook it off quickly.

The orange sweater was cute.

Fucking damn it.

He leaned down to put out the cigarette on the ground, but then stashed the stub in his pocket.

"Hey."

Odin's nervousness just made him feel worse. Every shred of happiness he'd pulled from the last few days had been tempered, by this. Knowing he had to do this.

A part of him honestly wished that he'd been right, that Finn would just stare at him blankly and not understand, and then Poe would seal that entire side of him up tight. It was hard to keep the grimace from his face.

"You been okay?"

Smooth.

The dread - the way he's a little more pale than normal, the way he feels every part of him twist the same way it did back home when he was walking headfirst into an army of the dead desperate to tear him apart, limb from limb - all of it sweeps from him when Poe asks how he's been. It's temporary, transient, but he laughs like a bell and the grip on his sweater eases.

"Are you kidding? It's been hell. I told you it would be, without you around." He flashes a grin, then goes a little red, looking off to the side. "Wait, did I tell you that or did I just think that? I think I just thought it. I think I told you I'd be okay? Shit, uh. Forget... that... I said... that. Hahaha."

There's a softness to him, as he avoids looking at Poe, too shy and nervous to hit his eyeline, but he does, eventually, and it's the grimace that brings him back to reality. Poe wouldn't call him out here... if something hadn't happened.

He takes a deep breath.

"If - if you need help... you know I'm there, right?" He folds his arms over his chest, a little tighter than he needs to. "That-- the staff that I gave you. My mom's? It wasn't... just something I did to be nice. It was supposed to be, like-- a promise that I'd always be there, whenever anything happened. So..."

"What happened?"

Edited 2017-12-29 02:04 (UTC)

He doesn't grin back, Odin's laugh twisting painfully in his chest. Great. Great, great, great.

It's strange, watching a man with several inches on you in height seemingly shrink into himself before your eyes. All Poe wanted to do was reassure him - step over, give him a tight hug, tell him to not worry so much. But he couldn't.

Ironically, it wouldn't be kind.

He may not have the scarf, but he did have the shard of wood sitting in his breast pocket. At the mention of it, his hand strayed toward it subconsciously, but then he pulled both of his hands back and shoved them into his pockets to keep them from doing anything stupid.

"I talked to him, Owain."

There was just no point beating around the bush.

He notices the way Poe doesn't reassure him. Of course he does - it's what they've always done for each other. Eased the pain in one another's lives, soothed each other's hearts when they were in turmoil. That's how Odin's always felt, at least, and he'd like to think Poe feels the same.

He's confused, at first, until the shoe drops. And then--

Odin was scared, but there was a spark, somewhere, that he'd felt countless times before. Just the tiniest glimmer of hope-- he reached for it, gripping it tightly.

"The-- the lost cause," Odin-- Owain-- says, and his heart hammers harder and faster. "How did-- he said no?"

It actively hurts to keep his distance, but he does. His eyes drop, glaring down at his feel as if they could tell him exactly what the fuck to do, right now. He'd gone into battle with an entire fleet, by himself, in a single X-Wing. And he'd felt right. He'd felt righteous.

This?

Fuck, he hated this.

He can't bring his eyes up again.

"... Not as lost a cause as I'd thought."

Ah -

So that's what this is.

The ground falls from under him, and Owain instantly pulls his hand over his heart, feeling it hurt. There's an ache so painfully strong it pulls every part of him to a standstill, his thoughts, his body, all of it. He doesn't hide the way it hurts, but he tries. Thankfully, he can't see Poe's face through the tears.

"Even--"

He's speaking without thinking, his head a cloud of confusion and hurt and shock, a whirlwind that chases away all conscious thought, just leaving raw emotion and the reactions that come from them. There's a part of him, that knows, this is the wrong way to handle things. It's too small a part for him to hear.

"--with me?"

It takes a while for him to figure out what he wants to ask, hand shaking over his heart. He tries to still it, tries to stand up a little straighter, but it doesn't come. His voice is thick and his throat aches in a way it never has before.

"Does he know... about..." He points to himself. "Or--"

He hesitates.

"Do I-- matter? In this? Do I matter in this? At all?"

Poe closed his eyes, shutting out the light, as he took a long, slow breath in. He may as well have breathed in nails, for all the good it did him - each molecule ripping through his lungs and leaving them like sandpaper.

"He sort of knows." It would be easier to lie, probably. Or maybe not. He'd always been a terrible liar. Doesn't make him much better at telling the truth, either, but. Better than trying to lie. "I didn't - go into detail." Just like he hadn't gone into detail about this with Owain. Hadn't even ever told him Finn's name.

Finn knew there was someone else, but - Poe didn't think he'd ever be able to explain it. Was pretty sure he'd already misrepresented it.

He forced himself to open his eyes, and witness what he was doing. (It didn't make it hurt any less, but he owed Owain this.)

"... I don't know what you're asking." Poe replied, lowly. Of course you matter, the words next on his lips, held back because he was afraid Owain was asking a different question than he was hearing.

"Was I not-- on your mind? At all? When you talked to him? You just-- decided-- that what you felt for me wasn't enough to--"

His voice is rising, now, shaking under the weight of all of this, but he's trying to keep himself steady. He knows what he should say. Should congratulate Poe, talk about how happy he is for him, go on about how all he really wants is for Poe to be happy. To be near him, while he's happy, because he loves him and that's all this has ever been about. He knows that, he knows, but--

"Why the fuck are you giving me up?" He's laughing, again, soft and broken. "I don't know what-- I don't know why I'm never enough for you. I've given you every-- every good part of me. That's not enough?" He scrubs his hands over his eyes. It's something he's dealt with his whole life, knowing he's not good enough, but the reason he fell in love with Poe is because he's the only person who ever made him feel like he was.

He takes another breath. Tries to get through this without making things worse. He opens his mouth to apologize and say he's just-- happy, for Poe, like he should be-- but he panics, scared of the words being an ending, and he scrambles desperately instead to hold onto some future that was never going to be his, grasping at it like sand.

"You don't-- this doesn't... you don't have to do this. I still-- I still love you. And I want to be with you. I don't..." He's going red, embarrassed, humiliated, fucking hating himself. "I don't even-- care. That he's there. That you love him, as well. I'm in love with you, and you said you-- had something, for me, which I thought-- I thought you were in love with me too? Were you? Ever? Or was that just-- bullshit, that you spun, at the party, to try and get me to let go of you? Something you said because-- because all along it's always only ever been-- fuck. It didn't work! Telling me that! That didn't work."

His eyes flick to the patch on Poe's jacket, and his stomach twists in on itself. He doesn't want the pin anymore.

"Can't we-- just..."

He lasts about a half a minute, before it's just too hard to look at him any more. He bites into his cheek to stop himself from immediately jumping on the defensive, of backtracking on everything, of declaring 'never mind- never mind' and hugging Owain until it all disappears.

But instead, he bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste blood on his tongue.

It doesn't work.

He can feel the heat behind his eyes, stinging at the edges, but his expression is set.

"I wasn't-- I didn't spin anything, Owain. You really think I would - say something like that, thinking it would make anything better?"

His voice is quiet, for him. The confidence and bravado having given way to a low rumble at the back of his throat.

"Tell me exactly what you think we can 'just', Owain, because I promise you I've thought it too, and followed it to its logical conclusion. There's - we can't 'just' anything, like that, because fuck, if this hurts now, you have to realise that would only be worse."

What he's feeling doesn't break under the guilt that suddenly washes over him. It all gets worse, if anything, when Poe asks him that question. There's shame in his gut ripping him to shreds and the tears he's been trying to blink back just flow even faster. Of course he didn't think Poe was lying. He shouldn't have asked that.

"I don't know! I don't know." He shakes his head, still just trying to chase this all away. "I don't know why you didn't pick me! I don't know why I wasn't enough, I don't know why you can only have one person, I don't-- I don't know why the fuck this has to happen? This isn't-- fair-- I don't know why we can't just-- just find a way to make it work, or-- or just-- be together, or--"

He wants to ask how much worse could this even get?, but he knows Poe'll bring up the other guy, talk about how he'll hurt, the way Archie did. Fuck, the other guy-- all those thoughts that had been killing Owain over the last few months, of Poe and this mystery guy together, it's all real now.

"God. Augh." He goes to apologize, again, but he doesn't have the guts. Just dabs at his eyes with his sweater, his whole body shaking. Thinks about his dad, and the unwavering loyalty he held for the people he loved, even in the face of death. Knows he's being childish and pathetic by doing all of this, by saying what he's about to say, but still thinks of his dad and what he suffered through to first be with Lissa.

"This can't-- get worse. Not for me. I'm not-- giving up on being with you. Somehow. Some day. Not for some guy whose name I don't even know."

He didn't even realise he was balling his fist, until the nails broke skin. Just above where a sliver had been, just a few days before. It had taken him ten minutes and a pair of tweezers to get it out, and here he was, bleeding again. It would have made more sense to leave it in.

He considered, briefly, simply saying Finn's name. Just saying it. But it wouldn't have the weight, for Owain - wouldn't explain it. It would mean infinitely more to Poe, and that was the entire point and problem.

He resists, again, the urge to forget everything and hug him, even just to stop the shaking, but he can't, and he fully understands why he can't, now. He didn't really get it, before. But every grain of hope he lets fall from his lips is only making this worse for Owain.

Magnus Fucking Chase had been right, after all.

"Trust me, it could get a lot worse." There was no heat, no anger in his voice - just a low, clinging sorrow. "I can't do this, Owain. I can't just - keep my heart in two places at once, it's ripping me apart. And it would rip you apart too."

"I have to do this. I have to at least try. And I can't just - I can't just keep shoving knives into your back, unintentionally or not."

His heart breaks, as it always does, when Poe's in pain. He gets what Poe's trying to say, and if he were calmer, more mature, he'd quietly nod his head and deal with whatever this is in private, or with his friends, like an adult his age should know how to do. He's too-- inexperienced, maybe, to realize how fucked up and toxic it is to drag this out, to make Poe feel even worse than he does.

"And that's just - something you think you can do." He tries not to sound bitter, or derisive, but it slips into his voice anyway, the first time Poe's ever heard that from him. "You're capable of just -- you can just stop having feelings for me - because you've got someone else. Your heart's just - whole, now, because he won and you have him and I'm gone. He's the one that matters, and I'm not-- so you can just-- forget me. Like I wasn't even..."

He rakes his fingers through his hair, tries to make himself shut the fuck up, for once in his fucking life. He starts pacing, a little, if only to work off some of the energy that's boiling dangerously close to making him just-- scream. He takes another few deep breaths.

"I have never..."

He stops walking. Stares at Poe. Keeps staring, until Poe meets his eyeline.

"I have never-- given up. On the things that I love. The people that I love." He tightens his jaw. "I walked through hell to see my parents again. Tried to die to keep my friends safe. Lived by a sword since I was old enough to hold it, hoping, one day, I'll be able to give myself to keep someone safe. And-- I've tried to give up on you. I haven't been able to."

Again, he tightens his jaw, keeping himself from shaking, forcing himself to get this out.

"I'm not going to stop you from trying. You deserve him, and you deserve to be happy. You've wanted him for a very long time." A breath. "But I'm not-- going to just accept, that whatever part of you belonged to me-- is just fated to die. I'm not going to roll over and think, "okay, then, I guess we're done". I can't do that."

He steps closer. Raises his hand. Looks like he's going to rest it on Poe's cheek, like he used to do, but doesn't. Lets it fall to his side again. It takes a few minutes, for him to find his voice again, but it's obvious, in that time, that he's struggling to say what he wants to say. Looking at Poe's lips like he wants to kiss him. Doesn't.

"The stars will go dark before my devotion to you fades." It's quiet. "The sun will burn out, and the seas will dry, before I let go of this hope that one day, you'll feel for me as strongly as I do for you. Even though --" He laughs. Still quiet. "-- it's a lost cause."

"I'm not - asking anything, anymore. I know - I've always known - that I want you more than you want me. But." He meets Poe's eyes. "I'm not - giving up. Okay? I'd rather let my heart stay in pieces than know you're not a part of it. You don't have to do anything. Don't even have to have me around, if you don't want me there. Just - want you to know. I'm going to hold out hope that one day you'll love me as much as I do you - as much as you do him - until I'm home and can't remember you."

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fallout fallout - closed to lando

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