InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "E=mc2"

Bobby Drake (frostbyte) wrote in devolve,
@ 2011-01-26 02:36:00

Who: Bobby & Sam (with Lewis and Annie)
What: Chat. Fight.
Where: Sam's room.
When: Tuesday night.
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Status: Complete

It wasn't often anymore the halls bore witness to Bobby seeking anyone out who was not tall, lean and Canadian. But try as he might, he couldn't just let go, as he knew he ought to. And while he hadn't meant to go right instead of left, it had happened, and he'd let it.

He found himself outside of Sam's room, leaning against the wall and listening to his tucking in ritual. Closing his eyes to better absorb the cadence of Sam's voice, he tucked his hands behind him and let the words roll over him. Sam's voice had changed, he noted with an accompanying spike to the chest. While he knew they'd all changed in some ways - he himself in some big ones - it still hurt to be confronted by it. Especially when it was someone like Sam.

They're still so small...They'll never understand how people fail and lives break down, and don't turn out the way you planned.

Bobby shook himself. None of that now, subconscious.

Turning, he leaned into the door, sliding into the frame as it swung open with a not so quiet creak. He slipped into it as Sam turned to look at him, arms full with sleeping twins.

(Read comments) - (Post a new comment)

	_rocket_butt_ 2011-01-27 08:07 am UTC (link)
	"Jesus Bobby, talk t'me!" Sam snapped, voice rising for the first time as he slid to his feet as well, though it was still low enough not to wake the twins. It took a hell of a lot of effort to keep some distance, because the way Bobby was acting he'd probably take being towered over as looming whether Sam could help it - which he couldn't - or not. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	frostbyte 2011-01-27 08:09 am UTC (link)
	"I'll see you Saturday." It was the closest thing to a promise he had these days. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

_rocket_butt_
2011-01-27 08:21 am UTC (link)

"No," Sam countered before he'd consciously made the decision, the one word quiet and fierce. "Just...fuck. No."

Scott had done this. Shut down and pulled away and then one day he'd walked out the gates and come back with Kurt carrying what was left of him. And no one generally said it, especially not where Kurt could here, but just about everyone knew he'd committed suicide by zombie.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	frostbyte 2011-01-27 08:24 am UTC (link)
	Bobby turned to look at him, pulling his whole body into a straight line. Even shorter, he had the advantage for the moment - and he hated himself for even acknowledging that. "Go back to bed, Sam," he told him, voice flat, cold like ice. "The twins need you." (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

_rocket_butt_
2011-01-27 08:42 am UTC (link)

Oh that hurt, but Sam had gotten good at keeping hurt off his face these last two years. He couldn't keep it from bleeding through in his voice, though, hot and thick no matter how low he still kept the volume.

"Fuck you, Bobby. You think you can, what? Lock us all out, shut everything away an' convince yourself none of us matter no more? Convince yourself you don't care? An' it don't matter none that...that we still give a damn about you?"

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	frostbyte 2011-01-27 08:47 am UTC (link)
	Bobby'd gotten really good at pretending he didn't care. "It's none of your goddamn business, Sam!" he hissed, careful not to raise his voice and disturb the twins. He did however, invade Sam's personal space so his voice didn't have to carry. Even looking up, he didn't lose any of the power behind it. "And don't fucking look at me that way! I'm not Scott!" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

_rocket_butt_
2011-01-27 09:10 am UTC (link)

"No, you're not!" he growled back, not backing down an inch and perversely pleased that Bobby'd actually gotten fired up enough to go on the offensive. "He always had a stick shoved so far up his ass that he hardly had t'work t'write everyone else outa his life once just about th'only people he actually gave a shit about were gone. It's a damn sight harder t'figure how the hell you're managing or why the hell you're tryin'!"

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

frostbyte
2011-01-27 09:24 am UTC (link)

"Listen, if this is some spur of the moment intervention, it's entirely misplaced and you need to back the fuck down! Do you think for a minute that Jean-Paul wouldn't break every goddamn bone in my body and lay my ass in traction and keep me there if he saw anything remotely like me going off the fucking deep end?! He's not the type of person to just sit back and let it happen! If I lose my fucking mind, you'll know it. You'll hear the impact when he hurls my ass at the ground from a hundred yards up! People change, Sam! The whole fucking world's changed! Get the hell off my back!"

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

_rocket_butt_
2011-01-27 09:34 am UTC (link)

"It don't need t'be a fuckin' intervention," he snapped. "An' you think I don't know the whole fuckin' world's changed? You think you're the only one who sees it? I just didn't figure t'have to watch one of the best men I've known workin' so god damned hard not to give a shit about anyone he used t'care about no more. Guess it's good that Jean-Paul's still allowed to give a shit, 'cause the rest of us are apparently just supposed to fuck right the hell off!"

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

frostbyte
2011-01-27 09:38 am UTC (link)

The shifting of his form was slower the second time. Not because it was more focused, or less, but because it was mirroring the ragging emotions taking over its bearer. Ice crackled and popped as head to toe and everything in between this time froze over.

He rocked up, a finger pointed at Sam's face. "Fuck. You." he growled, before turning on his heel and all but storming out.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

_rocket_butt_
2011-01-27 10:23 am UTC (link)

Sam was shaking with the effort of not following Bobby as he stormed away, more because it obviously wasn't going to do him a damned bit of good than any concern for leaving the twins alone.

"Yeah, fuck you too," he whispered, shoulders slumping and chin dropping to his chest as Bobby disappeared through the door. He stood there just long enough to get his shaking mostly under control, then stepped into his boots without lacing them, grabbed his coat from the hook by the door, and headed into the hall. It only took a moment to roust Jay and get him to agree to bunk with the twins for the night, the look on his older brother's face and the low rasp of his voice more than enough to keep him from protesting or asking questions.

He wanted to shout, or break something, or maybe break himself, but none of them were viable options. Instead he stalked through the silent, darkened hallways and out into the night. Sucked in a sharp breath as the crisp cold hit his face and burned his lungs and tried not to think of learning to consider that a comfort.

He was tempted to veer off into the field, power up and burn off rage and pain and fear in the exertion of flight. Couldn't risk it, though. Couldn't burn off energy he might need if things went to hell, which he could never afford to assume they wouldn't. Couldn't even afford to punch the shit out of something the way he wanted to; if he didn't power up he'd potentially hurt himself, take himself off his team for open wounds, and if he did he'd just destroy something that'd end up needing fixing. Using resources they couldn't necessarily spare to cater to his emotional outburst.

Instead he stalked through a new dusting of snow, footsteps dark shadows against the white of it as he made his way to the garage. There was nothing urgent there right now, but there was always something he could do. An engine that wasn't running quite as smooth as it could be, tires to rotate or patch, oil to change. He flipped the lights on and watched his breath fog as he pulled on work gloves and started to assemble his tools.

It wasn't really going to help, he knew himself well enough to know that, but there wasn't a damned thing else he could think of to do. Other than maybe find himself a corner someplace and fall spectacularly apart, and there were too damned many people depending on him for that to be an option.

His hands were still shaking when he finally got to work half an hour later.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

(Read comments) -