[open] And the nights, they last forever...

[the_horror]

WHO: The Hargreeves + Guests
WHERE: Various Cities
WHEN: Month of May
WHAT: Mass log of idiots to keep from flooding others. A log for all things Hargreeves, their Adventures, and those trying to befriend them.
WARNINGS: Obligatory CW for: drugs, alcohol, mentions of death, and mentions of child abuse. You know, the normal things.

"Gerard Way - Baby You're A Haunted House [Official Lyric Video]" (Watch on YouTube)

Comments

[numberthree]

Allison freezes and the look she cuts back isn't as obvious more than half a room's darkness away, but in the daylight, it would have cut glass and fractured it back into sands. Fury presses up so fast and so hard that there are spots in her vision that have nothing to do with the darkness in the room.

No. You don't.



You wouldn't die, right now, right here, this moment, no goodbyes, no excuses, no take backs, no Five, to make it happen, to make time change back, to undo the damage we caused, just to make one person, who wasn't you, and never could be you, just have the right to live, to be happy, even if you could never see them and never have a life again, Diego.

Whatever you want. It's nothing like this.

You've never had a child. Don't compare yourself to me.

[deadlycurves]

Allison doesn't usually throw so much at once in the Mental Network messages, generally tries to keep it to the easiest things that can still count as something akin to conversation, so when a sudden giant wall of words starts in a slow scroll in his vision, he blinks a few more times than usually necessary to focus. He frowns carefully, and as he keeps reading his features twist into something soft and hurt and upset. "That's not fair." the words he refused to say only a moment ago bubble up without a third of the force he'd have thrown them the first time they crossed his mind, head shaking slightly. "Just because I'm not a Dad doesn't mean that what I feel is any less important." And just as quickly as he'd been hurt, he's angry, getting to his feet, crossing the space she'd put between them to stop just in front of her, lean close and murmur, "Take your fucking high horse, holier-than-thou attitude and stay away from me for the next few days." He doesn't wait to let her respond before brushing the rest of the way past her, stomping quietly back up to his room; she could send whatever piece she might still want to say to him even if he wasn't in the room anyway. It isn't that he thinks what she feels isn't its own yawning chasm of agony, but the way she wants to parade around and act like she's the only one hurting by being here is what gets under his skin. She's not the only one stuck in a waterfall of grief and guilt and pain for someone in the world they've been ripped away from, and he'll be damned if he lets her try to pretend his pain doesn't matter because hers is somehow bigger, deeper, means more, matters more than his own.

☂ And end!

[numberthree]

There’s something about Diego being angry that makes it all neutered white noise. From childhood through to even now it’s the only language she and Diego have really spoken with painstaking clarity that wasn’t fighting in the field. They were always great at pissing each other off, and always great at not taking the knives and blows the way anyone else would. Somehow, as Diego gets up, gets mad, gets close, and sharp as Diego Hargreeves can make his voice, all Allison feels is …


… relief.



Success.



Especially once he stomps out and up the stairs, leaving her the living room back to herself. There’s a huff of breath but it only makes it the sound it can between her mouth and her lips, because Diego stomps out of the conversation and room before she can, even though she’s nearly in the doorway, reminding her even more of it being another of his childish antics. Like he needed to make some statement with leaving before she could, just like he tried to make to get her to turn around in the first place when she started to leave.

But it grants her the unexpected gift of the room being empty, and she’s not feeling any closer to sleeping now than she did before he decided to invite himself in. Decided to suddenly parade around his own feelings like they weren’t insults and like somehow that was a thing Diego ever did with her. Or anyone. In his life. Sat and talk about his feelings. In clear, organized, if still often oblivious, words. There’s a shake of her head, and Allison walked out the door, headed for the kitchen, to go make herself a drink and bring it back to the window seat.