Who: Taj & Andy Where: Taj's place When: After shit got real What: Panic Warnings: Attempted pseudo-incest; panic attack; sadness lives here!
The angel's intentions had been in the right place - of course they had, he was an angel - but Andy had rarely experienced kindness from strangers and his wounded, dogmatic psyche could find no sincerity in the note. He'd seen the attempts at absolution as blame because he didn't believe himself deserving of forgiveness. He blamed the kid he'd been for not saying no, not telling anyone, he could never say to himself that he hadn't deserved it because he hadn't known how to say no and to him that had meant he'd said yes; no amount of 'please, please, don't, stop, help me' could change that.
So his words sounded angry, the emotion under them was a quvering, shaking fear and an infected, poisonous anger and his eventual reaction was to turn in against himself in hate.
He was tired, exhausted, anxious about his breaking family like a tissue paper raft going over a waterfall that his already shaky mental health slipped a little. He was falling and the only thing he could reach out to grab like this was what he knew, a sordid childhood of interactive pornography.
He left the hotel room he'd blown his way into and made a beeline for Taj, only half aware of where he was going, less aware of his surroundings, his eyes wide but dry as he walked and was nearly run over by some mum in a rxr she'd never need to use for it's intended purpose.
He reached Taj's house but he didn't knock the way he liked to do, just let himself in for once and moved towards Taj's bedroom, toeing his shoes off along the way, pulling his hoodie over his head and leaving it like some odd broken winged bird on the floor. His feet took him to his own room because there, that's where Taj was there, and he entered and stopped after just entering. "Taj." he said, voice not teary or shaky but odd.