adrian march (caeteradesunt) wrote in repose, @ 2018-04-07 21:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, adrian march, patrick gunster |
log: patrick and adrian punch things
Who: Patrick G and Adrian M
What: Punching at the gym, as promised
Where: The gym
When: Early morning
Warnings/Rating: Punching?
Early morning, sun barely over the horizon, the first blush of spring but still cool and frosty at this hour. Adrian was up and very much awake, two cups of coffee in, with a gym bag slung over his shoulder. Walking felt like a good idea. He needed the time to think, and the cold air would clear his head.
By the time he left the house, he had very nearly managed to trick himself into thinking that this would be a good time. He would wear himself out punching a bag until he didn't feel anything anymore. Not usually his chosen activity, but it seemed appealing to him after everything that had happened in the last few days. Patrick would be there, however, and Patrick still wanted Adrian to punch him in the face.
He wasn't going to do that.
What should have been an opportunity to listen to cold quiet of early morning became a long walk with his thoughts going in the same tired circles. Since his conversation with Newt, he'd been doing his best not to imagine the things Newt had pressed him to. He hadn't imagined Newt and Patrick, sloppy drunk, walking home as friends, kissing in some quiet alcove. He hadn't imagined the two of them in some nightmarish book, Newt moaning and scrabbling at Patrick's pants, the fevered action of two people who wanted to fuck each so much that it blotted out language. The images were stark, vivid, and over the top. It obviously hadn't happened that way. Now that the images existed, however, he kept revisiting them, over an over, scraping at the bloody scab. A long walk alone toward a meeting with his brother gave him nothing but time.
He arrived in front of the gym looking grim. Ordinarily he looked forward to spending time with Patrick - Patrick, who, lest he forget, had left for two years. He didn't like the tight feeling in his chest, worrying about what Patrick might try to goad him into. He couldn't even think about what his brother's face might look like when he arrived without his stomach turning over.
He pulled the bag a little more tightly to his shoulder, and he stepped inside like he was off to war.