damien harrington, human x-ray machine (seesthrough) wrote in invol_rpg, @ 2013-01-27 15:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, damien harrington, savannah bordeaux |
WHO: Damien Harrington & Savannah Bordeaux
WHAT: Talking, sads, cute
WHEN: (Backdated) Sunday 20th January
WHERE: The roof of one of the lecture halls
WARNINGS: Language?
STATUS: completed log
The roof hadn’t been a place he’d ever ventured to before his friendship with Savannah had taken on that next level. They’d been friends, then flirty friends. Serious flirting had followed, and then that first night up on the roof when she’d let him into her thoughts more than he’d ever anticipated. He’d shared with her, too, the slight edge that was always in his thoughts and threatening his laid-back approach to life. Life was strange, sometimes more difficult than he wanted it to be, and since that first time on the roof so much had changed. This time, however, he was the one waiting for her to arrive. He was sat, watching the dim lights of the compound, revelling in the fresh feeling that the night air brought. Being out in the open was a strange sensation still, especially when alone, and Damien relished those small moments where he was starting to work through things. It had been two weeks, and each day he’d counted everything that made the day worth living. Day Fourteen: Hockey, fresh air, and her. His earlier conversation with Shannon had added a little more perspective to his day, the honesty that her power had forced him to speak with feeling good to say out loud. There was someone else who would hear all the honest thoughts that he had, and she didn’t need the assistance of powers. Guilt was slowly ebbing away, leaving space for hope. He was and always had been an optimist at heart, and counting the reasons to be happy each day seemed to be working. It was less of a distraction and more of a mantra now, something that he depended on. It wasn’t a sin to be glad that he was alive, and safe too, he’d decided. It would be better to try and keep on going forwards. He looked up as he heard some noise close by, smiling softly as he saw the familiar redhead. There were fears that he’d been leaning on her too much, but Damien also knew that he wouldn’t be as settled as he was without her and his other close friends. He raised a hand in wordless greeting, still smiling, and motioned for her to sit beside him. “Hey,” she greeted brightly, her voice hushed as she took the few long strides needed to reach his side. The Australian summer heat was sticking to her bare legs, now uncovered thanks to a pair of shorts--one of the many Savannah had brought with her from home. Her shoes were off and clutched in one hand by the time she sat next to him, carefully setting them down, then stretching her legs out before her luxuriously. Feeling oddly rejuvenated even in the oppressive heat, she leaned over to give him a lingering, soft kiss on the cheek in greeting. One arm curled around her waist, holding her close but gently, and Damien leaned in to kiss her tenderly in return. There was still a hint of a smile about his face, and he couldn’t get rid of it even if he’d tried. He was quiet for a moment, content to just be sat next to her, before speaking. “You got me into this outdoors stuff,” he told her, “It’s not quite so bad out at night, still hot, but better. Quiet, I like it.” Damien hadn’t been one for venturing out in the heat at the middle of the day, but he had enjoyed going outside in the evenings. The forcefield felt less oppressive now, and he was sometimes able to forget about it. “You alright?” he asked her, turning his attention to watch her. God, that question. It didn’t hold a fraction of the significance that it held for too many of them these days. Savannah had been remarkably lucky: She’d lost only one friend; the rest had been returned to campus alive. Sick, and traumatized--some would recover slowly, but others had life-altering changes ahead of them--but alive. And while some people were crushed and struggling beyond measure, there was something about Damien’s smile that gave Savannah a surge of hope. With so little else to celebrate, his gradual, visible recovery was like a beacon in the midst of all the heavy depression that hung like a cloud over the Institute. And she would cling to it. “Yeah, ‘course.” She’d always been an easy blusher, and in the dark, her cheeks were tinged pink from the kiss. Despite the oppressive heat, she couldn’t resist resting her head on his shoulder, welcoming the closeness. “You?” He wasn’t able to answer instantly, instead looking out across the compound once again. “If I say yes, I’m a liar. Say no and I’m an insensitive dick. So, maybe. Getting there,” he told her. He didn’t want to pretend, and especially not lie, but he was still able to smile a little. “I think the past few days have been good, clearing my head. Working out where I am, where I want to go,” he paused, and cleared his throat quietly. “I wanted to say thank you,” he told her, “Sometimes I feel like I’ve been leaning too hard, and you really scared me for a bit there with your no-sleeping. But, honest to god, I don’t know what I’d have done without you.” Damien turned his head slightly to look to her, aware of the slight edge of awkwardness that was present in his attempt at speaking freely. “That sounds lame, but I don’t care. I don’t even mind you asking how I am, most others just get a same bullshitty response.” For a moment, Savannah made no motion to indicate a response. In all honesty, she’d assumed that he’d know she was aware of how much he appreciated her. But--then again, she checked herself--it was still nice to hear. Particularly when her past boyfriends had all conducted themselves in a way that suggested voicing anything emotional was tantamount to giving up their masculinity. So instead of shrugging dismissively, which had been her first instinct, she leaned in to ghost her lips over the corner of his mouth. That mouth, whose smile she had always taken for granted, until it had all but disappeared from his usual demeanor. “I’m just glad you’re gettin’ better,” she demurred. “I wasn’t gonna give up and sleep til I was good and sure you weren’t gonna--” she hesitated before letting the word fall, “--die on me.” A sad smile flitted across her face for just an instant, before vanishing into the impertinence of her next words. “Especially not after I spent a freakin’ week crawlin’ around in the dirt for American Sam to get you.” Concealed beneath the cavalier flippancy was a definite undertone of, And I never crawl around in the dirt. She brought her knees to her chest, then, and rested her chin on them at an angle, so she could still watch him. “So where do you wanna go?” Damien shook his head slowly. “I wouldn’t dare,” he told her firmly. “You’d come hunt me down and kill me all over again,” he squeezed her waist gently, before relaxing into that comfortable position with his arm curled around her. “I’m sorry you had to go dirt-crawling, Sav,” he couldn’t stop himself trying to tease her a little. She moved, and he watched her, knowing that she was waiting for him to say what he’d been wanting to tell her. “Onwards, mainly,” he admitted. Sometimes he thought about what life would be like outside of IVI, but now that dream seemed a little more distant. “Gonna move on, do my best to do well. It’s an opportunity, I guess,” Damien shrugged his shoulders. “Try again, you know?” He had a second chance, he believed, at life. At school, at trying to train his power. At friends. “Get things right this time.” Savannah thought back to the moment when, in the deepest, darkest depths of her grief and fear, she’d reached out, like so many people had before her, to the one whom she felt could help her. The one whom she didn’t--couldn’t--believe was always listening, but the one she’d last turned to with such desperation as a trembling, long-legged girl in New Orleans, her body vibrating in pure terror as an ear-splitting crash sounded next door. The house next to theirs had shuddered and collapsed under the weight of a displaced telephone pole, and she could sense the end coming--could almost feel the icy touch on the back of her neck. She’d reached out then, like she had that night at the safehouse. “I do know.” Savannah reached for his hand, closing slender fingers around his and squeezing gently. Her gaze was soft, but searching on his. She did know how it felt, knowing that for whatever reason, you’d been given a second chance. “Well, I wasn’t--real graceful about how I handled mine,” she amended, not wanting to equate her experience with the hell he’d gone through. “But I think,” she hesitated, choosing her next words carefully, “maybe it’s gonna help you cope.” It wasn’t a profound moment of clarity, not a life-altering thought that had suddenly come to him, but it felt nice to finally speak out some of the things that he’d been mulling over for a few days. In the back of his mind lingered the idea that there might be a world outside of IVI, and he wouldn’t know what to do in it any more. It wasn’t certain, though, and therefore not something that he’d try to spend too much time on. What he had was now, and that was good. Damien reached to brush the fingers of one hand across Savannah’s cheek, smiling at her before leaning in to kiss her. It wasn’t needed, but he couldn’t quite help himself. “Mmm, I’ll get there. You did, right?” he found encouragement in that fact. He admired her tenacity even in the smallest of matters, and knowing that she was able to move on and grow from trauma was helpful. Something fluttered in Savannah’s stomach when his lips met hers. She hadn’t intended to date in the middle of the Outback--getting romantically involved with someone meant opening herself up to the uncertainty of their presence here. What was going to happen when IVI closed, and they were all scattered back to their respective countries? It was a question that was growing increasingly louder in Savannah’s mind, warning her to reserve enough of herself so that it wouldn’t hurt so much when she was separated from everyone. But she’d never been particularly good at reservation, at keeping a barrier between herself and others. And when Damien pulled away, she realized, with a pang, that whatever caution she’d managed to hold onto in regards to him was completely gone--and that possibly, it had been gone for a while now. She was locked in. “I had a good therapist,” she conceded, letting her head drop onto his shoulder again. “But I didn’t have friends to help me. It was just kinda me and him--” she paused, her father’s disappointed expression surfacing in her mind, “--and my parents, I guess.” They had tried. Maybe one day, when she could get past herself, she’d try for them. Savannah closed her eyes, suddenly not wanting the glare of the complex’s lights penetrating her view. “It sounds like a cliche, people tellin’ you you’re stronger than you know. I used to think it was the most annoyin’ thing in the world.” Her hand was still holding his, and she gave it another squeeze, ghosting her thumb over his knuckles. “But once I started movin’ forward again, I never stopped.” He gave a slow nod, still so unsure yet fixating on that one simple idea. Onwards. He was stubborn enough that he didn’t want the darkest moments in his life to define him, he wanted to be able to feel happy without any of the lingering sense of doubt. He smiled, unable to quite find words to fit how he felt. There was something peaceful about his mood, about how he was quiet but not unhappy. It didn’t feel as though it suffocated him any longer, and somehow the heat didn’t feel so oppressive either. He let her sit with her head on his shoulder, his arms still around her and their hands still entwined. He’d never felt this comfortable before, this at ease with another person. He exhaled slowly, the noise like a sigh but without the weight of his usual mood. Perhaps he needed to stop leaning on Savannah so much, his own affections having grown in the past few weeks, but he knew it was too late. “I like it out here,” he settled upon a milder sentence, still unable to voice his exact feelings in that moment. “It feels so remote, like no one else can touch us. Time out from the bullshit,” he mused quietly, head close by hers as he spoke. “I love it.” Savannah smiled--a subtle, but unmistakable change, as though her delicate features were unburdening themselves of some privately-held weight. “It’s the closest we’re ever gonna get to flyin’ in this place.” Well, short of forcing Jordana into a power swap. She bit her bottom lip, chewing lightly as she pondered whether to bring up what was creeping into her thoughts. It was something that she felt was very much self-centered in nature--something that she’d tried so desperately not to be, ever since they’d brought Damien back. She still felt a small nudge of guilt that she was considering it now. It simply didn’t seem to be the right time to take the focus off of his recovery, and yet, the quiet moments were few and far between. So, “Can I say somethin’ embarrassing and totally selfish?” She inhaled, taking a small breath for courage. “It’s dumb, but while we were still tryin’ to find y’all, I kept thinkin’ once you got back, you wouldn’t wanna have anything to do with a relationship. And honestly, I wouldn’t have blamed you. It’s kind of an extra burden when you’re already so bogged down with everythin’ else.” Savannah pulled back for a moment, her smile turning wry. “I think that was maybe my way of avoidin’ thoughts about how scared I truly was? But anyhow, I’m glad you didn’t. Wanna end it, I mean.” Damien listened to her carefully, unable to hold back the soft chuckle at her words. He shook his head slowly, amused rather than unnerved by that confession. “No, I like it. Need it, a bit,” he shrugged his shoulders gently. “It’s, like, grounding. Even there,” he hesitated. He had been so keen to move on that he barely spoke about what he’d thought in that cell. How those cold walls had made him despair, and the way that he’d watch at that tiny window for as long as he could each day. Damien had pushed it all so far away that he still wasn’t sure how to say anything about it. “Sometimes,” he tried again, voice hesitant still, “Sometimes it’d be a thing. Something to keep hold of. I keep holding on,” Damien struggled again. Feelings were difficult, and even more so when they involved that time. He tried to avoid it once again. “I keep holding on now, too, I’m sorry,” he told her. “I don’t want to be like that, I swear. I don’t want to be too much if you don’t want me to.” The night air split suddenly with Savannah’s laugh--the first genuine laugh she’d had in weeks. God, they were the worst. With the rate she was starting to be apologetic, she was going to become an honorary Canadian. “You’re, like, apologizin’ without sayin’ you’re sorry. Quit tryin’ to cheat.” She poked his shoulder then, giving it a playful shove. “You’re not too much. If anythin’, I kinda like havin’ an excuse to hover around you like a freaking helicopter. It’s what I’m good at, and it just so happens that you could use the support.” She shrugged, then inclined her head at a slight angle, peering at him. “So--I’m not stiflin’ you? Cause that’s a first, with me and boyfriends.” It took a moment before Damien was quite convinced, but he relaxed quickly as Savannah explained her laughter. He fixed her with a look, mock-serious as he watched her, before breaking into his own grin. She had been hovering, but it had been more of a help than he’d ever expected. He welcomed it. Hell, he liked it. He liked being around her. “No,” he insisted. “You did helicopter a bit, but I gotta be selfish and admit I like having an excuse to be around you. “And I’m not being a pain in the ass with my stupid, right?” He asked her, keen to check that he wasn’t getting on her nerves in the meantime. “Wow, no.” Savannah wrinkled her nose and poked him again, this time, pushing so that he was forced to temporarily shrink from her touch. “How about you leave the self-deprecation to me? I’m way better at it.” She tucked her hand under her chin, then, peering at him. “We’re comin’ up on three months of me serenadin’ you with my freaking gorgeous voice, and my awesome taste in music.” The impish look in her eyes was unmistakable. “How about we start celebratin’ early? Bet I could belt out some Kenny Chesney to tide you over. You could hear all about how sexy I think your tractor is.” It was two choices, really. Listen to her wail her way through another awful song, or -- Damien leaned in to kiss her again before she had the chance to even try. She wasn’t an awful singer, far from it if he were being honest in his critique, but the alternative was far preferable. He pulled her in close, a kiss that would possibly last long enough to distract her. “Not even if ‘tractor’ means some weird sex thing in Louisiana-speak,” he told her as he broke the kiss. “Not even then.” “We’re not that freaking hick. Maybe they got that in Texas.” Or Alabamer. Savannah’s smile was positively wicked now, and she scooted toward him, closing what little distance remained between them. In moments like these, she wondered how the heck she could still be considered a Catholic. “But I bet we might could pretend I know a few things.” She leaned in as she practically breathed the words, making sure her lips brushed against the shell of his ear. Normally, Savannah would have had some objection to the part where she was teasing him when there were IVF guards yards away, but, feeling daring, she caught her bottom lip lightly with her teeth in thought, stopping just short of her instinct to plant slow, lingering kisses along his jawline. “Where’s Don stayin’ tonight?” His breath caught in his throat very slightly, so easily enthralled by her words and actions. He shrugged his shoulders a little, his best attempts at acting casually already thwarted by how distracted he was by her. Damien wasn’t too good with words, or feelings, and it was a little bit of struggle to answer her properly. “I don’t know,” he told her, catching her other hand in his and entwining his fingers around hers. “But we can be somewhere that he’s not,” he smiled. |