maskormenacelogs | sixteen just held such better days

[He comes home Monday morning, figurative tail between his legs, still wearing Cosima's sweatshirt in spite of the summer heat. Everything about him looks pale and small and transparent, but he leaves sneaker footprints in the driveway. The front door feels like a gaping maw, and he may or may not be avoiding it. Either way, he's ready to apologize - to everyone. He figures they must be just as infuriated with his disappearance as they are with his treatment of Matthew and Ronan, but some ghostly habits are hard to let go of.

He quickly hunches his shoulders up at anyone who approaches him, a gesture of both defense and shame. Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry.]

[The Jmart parking lot is empty this Friday evening, a suburban wasteland even in this strange world, but it's more than suitable for this duo's purposes. Under the fading sunlight, Noah drops his board down with a clatter, and steps up to test his weight on it.]

No, see, we wouldn't even have pop punk without Green Day. They totally paved the way for, like, faux-apathetic teen rebellion music.

[He knows that Noah is back.

But he waits.

It's relatively late in the morning when he drops a box in front of him. Inside is bag of candy and a glitter $1 snowglobe of De Chima. Happy Birthday goes unsaid.]

[Noah stretches his arms out behind him, leaning back against the patio railing. His socked toes wiggle.]

I'd still pick Gandalf. Like, yeah, the hobbits would be fun, but imagine smoking a joint with some old all-knowing dude. It would be, like, enlightening.

[He flinches at the sound of the box, but doesn't look up. It's Ronan, he knows it's Ronan, and his mouth has suddenly gone completely dry. His shoulders hunch even further, nearly reaching his ears.

The box gets opened in silence, and as he clutches the snowglobe between his hands, Noah finally takes in a slow breath.]

I'm sorry.

[He looks down at Noah, his head tipped up just a little. There's so much on his fact that speaks to arrogance, to rage.

But he doesn't want to keep this fight going. He knows he has the energy for it, the ability to do it. But actually enduring it isn't something he wants to put the rest of the people who live here through.

And mostly he doesn't want to. Mostly, he doesn't like the idea.]

Yeah.

[That doesn't mean he'll apologize. That's sometimes as good as anyone will get from Ronan.]

I can leave if you want.

[He says it to the yard, to the trees, to the sky, anywhere but at the imposing presence over his shoulder. Every fiber of his unreal, unnatural being wants to stay in this beautiful house, but not if the house doesn't want him back. All of these people are so precious to him, and they should have all the comfort and ease they can get. Noah's still a dead thing - he's not safe for people like Matthew.]

No.

[Ronan isn't spectacular at things like words. This is no exception.

He doesn't ask Noah to leave.

He doesn't want Ronan to leave.]

[ Breeze sighs, dropping her own board. She can't believe they're still talking about this, and she's wondering how she ever thought this guy was like Sam. Although Sam would probably argue in favor of Green Day, too. Boys. ]

Look, if they didn't exist, some other person would have come up with it eventually.

[Noah knows how Ronan is with words, but the exhaustion and self-doubt in his mind are too strong for him to parse the meaning this time. It could be anger, or it could be awkwardness. He thumbs at the glass globe, and closes his eyes against the sun.]

Are we still friends?

[He doesn't reply right away, which doesn't mean he's going to say no. It means that Ronan is honestly thinking about it. Considering it. He doesn't know what to say, at first.

But then finally he manages to nod; he means it.]

Yes.

[He pushes at him.]

You're a real boy now. I fight with people. That's just how it goes.

[ When Matthew spots him from a window, it only takes him seconds to come barreling out into the yard, very nearly tripping over the puppy who decides to come with him. ]

Noah!

[ He's nothing but pleased to see him, relieved and happy all at once. He grabs Noah's hands in his excitement, oblivious to the meaning behind the other boy's shrinking posture. ]

Noah, you're back!

[There's a downside to being telepathic. Noah hears that uncertainty, and it pulls at his heart. Ronan's answer is honest - he knows that - but the hesitance is bitter. He tries to push it away in the back of his mind, like a bad taste, but he can't help worrying that he's broken something beyond repair.]

Okay.

[It's still quiet. He feels a little like throwing up.]

Can I still be friends with Matthew? If he wants to be, I mean.

Yes.

[That comes without a pause. At least that much isn't an issue.

Whatever Ronan is feeling about Matthew, he can't say no to him, either.]

Don't upset him.

[That part isn't changing, though.]

[Noah lets Matthew take his hands - lets him shout, and carry on - but it takes him several moments to finally warm up to the boy's enthusiasm and smile back. Once he does, there's only one thing that he can bring himself to say.]

I'm sorry.

Except no one did, or else we wouldn't have electric synth-jazz here.

[He rolls a few feet, looking back at her with a wrinkled nose.]

[ Matthew gives an immediate, dismissive shake of his curly head. ]

It's fine, it's fine. It's okay if you had to get out of here for a while.

[ He thinks that's why Noah is apologizing. And he does understand why he left, sort of. Not entirely--because he's still not sure what the fight was about--but enough that he doesn't feel like a further explanation has to be necessary. ]

[He shakes his head, fighting the urge to sink back into the shadows of the porch. Matthew's hands are too warm.]

I'm sorry I made you sad. And I'm sorry I told Ronan about... [He swallows.] I didn't mean to.

I won't. I never meant to.

[And it's true, every letter. Noah has sadness like Ronan has anger, and sometimes it burns clean through his fingers and destroys the wrong things. He wishes he knew how to stop it. He wishes he knew how to live happily, like Matthew.]

That whole fake life was still in my head, and you'd all left, and I accidentally broke my lamp.

I'm not going to tell you it was okay.

[He eyes Noah for a long minute.]

But I won't fucking fight you about it either.

Edited 2016-07-04 21:03 (UTC)

Okay.

[He tries to keep his chin still and his eyes dry, but he's too wound up, too ashamed. Instead of disappearing, he just lowers his forehead to the snowglobe, hiding a couple of escaped tears. They hit the glass and roll down onto his jeans. He clears his throat, but says nothing. His silence feels half like a question (Is this over now?) and half like permission (I know you'll leave anyway.). Maybe he knew he wasn't going to get an apology, and that he didn't deserve one anyway, but he can't help feeling like things haven't quite resolved.

Perhaps they never will.]

[ Matthew frowns, utterly confused for a moment. The first thing Noah's apologizing for happened weeks ago, and Matthew doesn't make the connection right away, and the second part is--

Oh.

[ Oh. ]

Did you tell Ronan that I was worried about being real?

[ Past tense, because he's trying to leave all traces of that concern behind. There's nothing in his tone to indicate that he might be mad; really he just wants to know. He doesn't let go of Noah's hands. ]

We were already fighting, and it just came out.

[Noah wants so badly to pull away, but he doesn't. Matthew deserves more than that.]

Sometimes I don't realize when I'm hearing people's thoughts, but I try to never repeat them. I won't do it again, I promise.

[All of it is true, at least, down to the letter.]

[ There's a lot being said here, and sometimes Matthew can only process things in bits and pieces. His mind sorts through the facts one at a time. ]

You can hear my thoughts?

[ Did Noah tell him about that and he forgot or didn't hear somehow? Because that's kind of a lot to take in. And then he digests the next piece of information, exhaling slowly. ]

You told him when you were fighting.

[ He isn't going to hold this against Noah, even a little. His brothers fight all the time. They used to get along and now they don't and he doesn't understand why they can't work it out but he doesn't blame them either, and the same is true for Noah.

But this sucks. This really sucks. ]

Don't worry about it. It'll be okay. We already talked about it some, and-- [ He shakes his head again. ]

It'll be okay.

[ He means it. Everything will work out, right? ]

[He gives a slightly forlorn nod.]

When they're loud.

[What he doesn't say: Sometimes I don't mind hearing yours, because they're warm and sunny and comforting. Even the sunniest thoughts are still private, though, and he feels ashamed all over again.]

... I hope you're right.

sixteen just held such better days

[july 4th; closed to raven camp]

[july 1st; closed to Breeze]

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[july 2nd; closed to Cosima; cw drug mention]

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