Burden knows that in life, one must (tithe) wrote in repose,
Re: In-person: Misha B/Damian W
You ain't right. [Misha, he liked that side-eye, and he let the inapplicable 'okay' slide, even if it made him question that Damian was a hallucination, on account of his own drugged inability to recreate the minutia of misusing words the other boy did some when he was frazzled. And, course Misha didn't say everything was Damian's fault, because it it wasn't. Tears rolled fat down Damian's cheeks, and Misha just leaned in and kissed salty damp 'gainst dark cheekbones. When Damian's voice broke, Misha nosed where he'd just kissed.] Course you don't think I'm right. Just like I think I made you go out and get yourself Morphine tonight. [He assumed it was Morphine. He would've been a whole lot more worried if it wasn't, and if he knew what Damian really had on him then he'd comprehend this wasn't a hallucination any. Misha, he wouldn't dream up Heroin.]
You ain't here, Dami. You left. You weren't coming back to me. [Misha said that sad, but calm some, and then he laughed unexpectedly. It was a low laugh, a quiet laugh, and it was a disbelieving laugh. It came with a shake of his head.] Do I like how I feel right now on these pills? I hate it more than I can say. It reminds me of the Quiet Home. It reminds me of surviving when I was small, of that feeling when you have to shut everything out to keep walking and breathing and being. It reminds me of Heaven. I hate it. [He tried to smile some.] But it means that, for a few minutes anyway, I can see you and not think 'bout how I can't live with you gone.
[The shifted embrace, familiar how it was, made Misha feel better. He looked over Damian's shoulder as the other boy touched the ring.] It's okay if, sometimes, folks leaning on you feels too heavy. It's okay even if it's me, and it ain't something I'll ever hold 'gainst you. But if you want me to lean on you, then you got to be able to tell me when it's too much, or when you ain't able to handle it. [He nuzzled into the hand touching his cheek.] And I reckon I got to learn to do the same and tell you when I can't shake something, like for the past few weeks and all the intrusive thoughts I been having 'bout when I was small. [It was easy like this, rambling while holding Damian real close, and Misha's hands moved, his arms sliding under Damian's and cinching the boy close 'round the middle.] I'm scared 'bout Lyssa, and I feel like I been failing there too. I'm real scared 'bout Lyssa. [The repetition was real likely telling, and he added, quiet:] I don't want to talk to Oliver 'bout things. I don't talk to Oliver 'bout things.