Re: In-person: Misha B/Damian W
I am right. [Damian may have sniffled, but he did not let that stop his loftiness.—More important, however, was Misha dipping in as the idiot, useless man cried idiot, useless tears. The boy kissed aforementioned tears away, then nuzzled to wet cheekbones. Damian squeezed his boyfriend as best he could, arms tightly ringing thinner frame, even if it was briefly uncomfortable for both of them. He took a deep, ragged breath, so that he might correct the angel:] Heroin. They—It is easier to get. [And it was. Heroin one could buy on nearly any corner, in any alley. Morphine was not something everyone carried. And Damian had left his phone full of contacts behind.]
I am here. I am back. [The man was fighting to be as calm as Misha, but that was to be expected, as the entirety of Misha's soul was weighted down with who knew how many milligrams of fucking Xanax and Damian was operating only on the end of the road, burnt-rubber of a junkie's want.—The laugh was a touch jarring. Damian's expression remained skeptical, of course, as Misha refuted his like for the high, but he did attempt to listen, he did attempt to believe that it might not be something sought after again and again. Great, green eyes searched dull, glazed-over blue.] You need not live with me gone. Or not live. Or... whatever the correct English is. Because I am here. And you-you can—we—[He did not know how to express what he desired to express. It had something to do with the pills, with wanting Misha to have them if he needed them, but not so much as he had had today. In the end, Damian just shook his head, annoyed with himself and the tripping of his tongue. He did not even think he could say it in Arabic accurately, so he did not try.
He swallowed as he was held. He turned, chin to his shoulder, to look at Misha out of one eye as the angel told him it was okay if people got too heavy. He was very close to chiding the boy about his hypocrisy, when the angel owned up to it himself. Damian frowned, still touching pale cheek. He let his touch drop to chapped lips as Misha then admitted to being frightened about Alyssa.] Yes, [he said finally, though it was likely unnecessary. As in, 'yes, you do need to learn to do the same.'] I am sorry for mentioning Oliver like that. I... it was not kind of me. [He sniffled a little, trying to shift, so he could face Misha a touch more.] You have not failed in any capacity regarding Alyssa. It was my fault. It is my fault that she is a problem at all. And we—we will get rid of her. What she is? I know she is strong, but compared to you. To us. She is nothing, Misha. I am afraid sometimes too. [This was an admission made just as quietly, as Damian did not generally fear anything at all.] I am afraid she is still inside my head. But it is my fault. I went to her, like you said. I opened the door. So I will close it. You will help me. Yes? And Oliver... Oliver can go fuck himself.