ruffians | just rename this musebox 'the dump'

Entry tags:

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[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.

You said... You said everyone would die if you didn't...

[He gestures between them, because he gets the feeling that that's part of the whole thing, (and something about that makes Terry feel impossibly disgusting once he says it out loud, pulling his arms around himself with some consideration for how good a hot shower sounds, but he can't think about that right now.) Not himself specifically, but this whole image Finnick's cultivated.]

Do you remember anything else about it?

[Finnick shakes his head, turning to look back towards the bed. Laying down and curling up feels very appealing right now.]

Just that I was afraid all the time. And that if I wasn't pretending I was fighting.

If it is real, do you really want to go back to that?

[It's less a question for Finnick than it is for himself, but it's been asked anyway.]

I don't know.

[He looks at Terry again, just to ground himself in the conversation again.]

If that's where my home is... and if it's going to torture me here anyway, what's the difference?

[He's not looking at Finnick but at the floor between them, still with his arms wrapped around himself.]

Maybe you can move past it here.

[He shakes his head, but he can't figure out this deep need to go home and he knows he wouldn't be able to explain it to Terry, so he just sighs.]

I'm sorry I brought you here.

No, it's--

[He wants to say it's fine, but Terry supposes that's not exactly true. He certainly feels not entirely unlike a piece of human garbage right now but that doesn't matter.]

I just wish I could help.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject