ruffians | just rename this musebox 'the dump'

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just rename this musebox 'the dump'

[If he hates parties, Terry hates the inter-label parties even more. It's exhausting being around all these people and pretending not to hate everything and everyone and having to introduce himself to all these Virgo people as if he cares about these conversations and doesn't just want to go back to his bed.]

[He's coming in from a smoke break (read: going outside in a desperate bid to get away from people for 10 minutes) when he bumps into someone on his way back in and immediately puts his hands out to steady whoever it was as if he's in any way bulky enough to knock someone bigger than a toddler over.]

Shit-- Sorry.

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I'm--

[His voice catches in his throat when he tries to speak, and when he hears it he squeezes his eyes shut and covers his face with his hand. There's something very familiar about this sinking sense of dread but he can usually ignore it and act like nothing's wrong. He knows Terry must think he did something wrong and some part of Finnick wants to tell him that's not it, but he can't even speak right now let alone communicate something so delicate.]

[The thought does cross his mind, and Terry frowns, wondering what to do. Wondering if he hurt Finnick or...]

[But he can't ask if Finnick won't talk to him, and he exhales a slow, heavy breath. Talking Finnick down is something he at least has some experience with, and the guy hasn't tried to kill him this time so that makes it a little easier to think.]

[Terry moves from between Finnick's legs to crawl up the bed and sit next to his head, hugging his knees to his chest with one arm and drops his other hand to comb his fingers through the front of Finnick's hair. Voice low and gentle when he speaks.]

Do you want me to leave?

[He can't help but feel like it'd be a bad idea to leave him here alone, but if it's what he wants there'd be shit all Terry could realistically do.]

[Finnick considers saying yes, but the thought of being alone in this hotel room just sounds like it would make it harder to get a handle back on reality again, so he he shakes his head and lets out a shaky breath.]

[It's another few moments before he tries speaking again, his hand still covering most of his face.]

I can't-- I don't know what's--

[Terry's willing to stay as long as it takes for Finnick to calm, until he can talk properly about this. Or decide he doesn't want to. Whatever. He just makes a gentle shushing noise with his hand in Finnick's hair.]

Take your time, it's alright.

[He feels a little guilty that part of him wants this to be something else and not something he did, but Terry keeps that concern to himself.]

It's not.

[None of this is alright. It's all very distressing. He wishes he could describe what's going on right now but he's having trouble sorting it out in his head let alone forcing the words out.]

[He finally pulls his hand away, but his eyes are still squeezed shut like he's trying to focus on making his body obey him and stop freaking out. It's a losing battle.]

Well I'm not going anywhere.

[As if to punctuate that, he slides down to lay next to Finnick. He doesn't curl up to him or anything, but he stays close enough for his presence to be felt.]

If you need to talk about it or just need someone to stay with you for a while, I'm right here.

[Finnick lets out a strangled sob as he opens his eyes and looks up at the ceiling.]

I'm sorry, this isn't how this is supposed to go, I'm... I feel like I'm somewhere else...

[A little hesitantly, Terry lifts a hand to cup the side of Finnick's face, gently tries to coax Finnick into looking at him. Maybe... Physically grounding him will help? Give him something to focus on?]

Look at me.

[It's soft, a suggestion more than it is an order, and he watches Finnick's face to see how any of this is going over.]

Focus on my voice, focus on your breathing, okay?

No, no--

[He shakes his head and starts bracing himself on the bed like he's going to try and sit up.]

You don't understand.

[Terry frowns, chewing his lip a little but... Maybe he does? Either that or he's crazy. He's quiet for a long moment, wondering if it's not just anxiety-- if it's the weird dreams and flashbacks and all that shit.]

[He hesitates, still with his hand on Finnick's face, but it's worth asking.]

... It's like you're not you, right? Like there's some whole other life you don't remember?

[Finnick listens, trying to focus on the words one by one to figure out what they mean, what Terry means by all of this. He shakes his head again. He feels like he can't get enough air in his lungs.]

No, I'm trapped.

[That's the only feeling he can get straight right now.]

[God, he doesn't understand. And he's outed himself as a crazy person.]

[Terry pulls his hand back, suddenly extremely self-concious and aware that he's naked right now, which makes it even harder to push that feeling aside to focus on what Finnick's saying right now.]

[He curls in a little on himself, but he still keeps his eyes on Finnick. Frowning, but mostly becauss he wants to understand this so he can help. And also because he feels crazy, but mostly the former.]

Explain it to me. Talk me through it.

No, I'm--

[Finnick finally pushes himself up and turns away from Terry, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He hasn't even thought about the implications of what Terry's said, he's just focusing on trying to breathe again.]

I'm here because of something else. This wasn't-- it wasn't my choice I didn't choose this.

[He sounds hushed but frantic.]

This-- the music, you mean?

[He doesn't follow Finnick up, still laying on his side with his arms around himself, but he's listening. Trying to understand.]

Any of it.

[He leans his head in his hands, elbows on his knees.]

[Okay, he can't do this with his dick out. He gets up off the bed to find his discarded clothes and pulls his underwear on before he clambers back onto the bed and kneels next to where Finnick is sat.]

I don't... I want to understand but I don't think I do.

I think I'm going crazy.

[His breath finally starts to even out as he sits there, hunched over with his head in his hands. Things are starting to sort themselves out into a logical order now, one that he might even be able to explain.]

I'm sorry. It's just... I have this image in my head of someone telling me that everyone would die if I didn't... that's why I have to be like this... I can't let them die--

[He lets out another sob of frustration and squeezes his eyes shut again.]

[He doesn't know if this is comforting or soothing or anything, but Terry puts a hand on Finnick's back anyway. This is familiar, it reminds him of how afraid Finnick was when they met last time. How he didn't want to rock the boat for fear of what they could do.]

[Terry frowns deeply, at a loss for what to say that might help. Might offer some comfort or solace.]

You don't... [He trails off, it feels a little presumptuous but fuck it.] You don't have to be that with me-- just be yourself for a while, I won't tell anyone.

No, you...

[He has to stop to get over the sudden wave of fear that rushes through him right then. His voice is breaking when he speaks again.]

It doesn't matter. I'll have to keep going. I'll have to keep being that, and I don't even know why or who's making me, but I'm terrified.

I know, I know.

[It's not a solution, but that's not what Terry's offering. He can't solve this, but he can offer a little refuge. A bit of space to figure it out.]

But think about it like this-- you get a night where you don't have to pretend. Where you can talk to someone and try to figure it out maybe.

[The next part comes out before he's actually thought about it, and Terry immediately feels like he's going to regret it.]

I mean, shit. You can text me and I'll come if I can, we can just book a room away from all that.

No.

[He stands up and takes a few steps away, and he's too distraught to feel ridiculous, tall and imposing but completely naked. He gazes toward the window of the suite, looking but not seeing, trying to figure out what this overwhelming desire to just go home is. It's not his penthouse, it's somewhere... simpler than that. Sunny beaches and ships and fishing nets... he wishes he could figure out where that place is.]

I think I'm meant to be somewhere else.

[Terry stumbles a little in his haste to follow Finnick up off the bed, because he's worried for him now. Really seriously worried, and it's more than Terry is really equipped to deal with but who the fuck else is there?]

Like where?

I don't know where it is, I only know what it feels like.

[He turns his head slowly toward Terry, though he doesn't meet his eyes.]

You said it. Before, you said it's like you're supposed to be living a different life.

...uh, yeah. It's...

[He frowns and shakes his head, he's already pushed that back after Finnick didn't exactly react like he was making sense. Because obviously he's not that guy, Terry barely remembers anything about him. It's impossible.]

It's crazy. I know shit's messed up but I'm not-- That.

[Whatever 'that' is, there's a level of contempt for it that Finnick clearly doesn't feel for his weird dreams.]

[Finnick frowns at that, like he's starting to realize that there's no way Terry could understand what's going on with him right now. He sighs in frustration and shakes his head.]

Whatever that other life is... it's terrible. If it's real, then whatever it is is making me do things that I don't want to do, and if it's not.... I can't even fathom where these thoughts and feelings would come from.

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