Wednesday April 29, 2009
Who: Garret and Rorie What: Sim's Snow White Spell goes Amiss Where: Rorie's house When: Late afternoon/early evening Note: In Progress
While lounging about on the couch and generally feeling sorry for himself on his day off, Garret was trying not to think too hard about Rorie. It wasn't working. Worse still, the phone rang (making him frantically claw for it off the table by the couch) and it was Rorie, and at first things sounded promising (mostly) but then it just... went dead. Rorie tapered off in a very worrisome fashion, and the line cut out, and Garret was already halfway out the door by the time the phone hung itself up.
Seeing Rorie on the floor of the kitchen, Garret's heart nearly stopped. He looked dead. Not passed out, not sleeping, but dead. Lifeless. Rushing over and kneeling down, Garret's pulse pounded twice as hard when he found that Rorie's wasn't going at all. It didn't make sense. One minute Rorie had been fine, vibrant, and the next the phone had cut out. What had happened?
There was no time to consider it now. Tilting Rorie's chin up, Garret opened the boy's mouth, his own hands shaking the entire time. "Shit, come on, baby," he whispered, doing two chest compressions and then sealing their lips, forcing air into Rorie's still lungs.
It was almost like waking up from a surgery. Slowly sounds started to filter through, the senses were becoming aware. Except he wasn't breathing. Which was strange because. . . How was he alive and not breathing? Then a burst of air came into his lungs. A split second later, a man was pounding on his chest painfully. He tried to reach up and stop him, but all he could do was gasp for air as his eyes finally opened widely. Coughing and trying to curl in on himself, he was so confused. Where was he? What happened? Why was this man pounding on his chest and breathing into his mouth?
His mind was swimming with becoming aware of where he was as he slowly became more and more awake. Everything was in slow motion and he heard sounds, but couldn't make them out of the muffled screaming noise in his ears. His head ached and his chest hurt, that much he could comprehend right then, everything else. . . Was a mystery.
When Rorie drew in that breath, it felt like the entire world had been lifted off Garret's shoulders. Laughing with relief, he grabbed Rorie by the shoulders and pulled him upright, letting more air get into his lungs. "Okay, okay," he said, trying to be reassuring. "It's okay, baby."
"What?" He breathed, looking around confused. "What's. . . What's goin' on?" He asked as he looked at the man holding him. What was going on? Everything was a blank up until he started to breath again. "I don't. . . I don't understand. . ." Sitting up didn't really make his head any clearer or stop aching as he looked up at the man finally. "Who're you? Why-why. . . what happened?"
At first, Garret was so grateful that Rorie was okay that he didn't even question the boy's questions. He wanted to know what had happened too. But that could wait. Right now he was just so goddamn glad that Rorie was fine, that he was breathing. It hadn't occurred to him how much he really loved Rorie until the thought of losing him really stared him in the face. Caressing Rorie's cheek, Garret leaned in to kiss him... but stopped. "Who am I?" he asked, his voice treading carefully. Surely that wasn't what Rorie had said. Surely.
"What's going on?" He said, getting freaked out now. Here was this stranger, holding him and about to kiss him, touching him like a lover and he had no idea who this guy was. "I don't understand what's happening," he breathed, his heart rate shooting up from dead to nearly techno beat. "Who are you and-and why are. . . Why are you trying to kiss me?" He really didn't understand and so many scenarios ran through his head that he just wasn't sure anymore.
Well that answered that. Something was very, horrifically wrong. And Garret would get to the bottom of that, but first he had to calm Rorie down. Pulling away, he sat back on his heels, putting his hands up as a gesture of peace. "Okay, okay... shh..." he murmured soothingly. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay. Just take a deep breath and calm down. I won't... I'll stay over here. Okay? You just stay calm, and tell me your name. Okay? Can you do that?"
He sat there and watched the other realized that he didn't know the strange rescuer. He was loosing calm, but when he was given space he pressed against the island in the kitchen and watched the other man wide eyes as he gave him distance. He was grateful for it that was true. "Y-Yeah," he nodded before he paused. What was his name? "I. . . I don't know," he said, feeling a wave of panic come over him slightly. "I don't know my name. I don't know where I'm from, where I am, how old I am. I-I don' remember anything besides waking up from you giving me CPR," he croaked, as tears threatened to fall. "Why am I crying!?" His voice started to crack and go higher as he looked at the other man like he knew all the answers.
Maybe it was head trauma. Maybe Rorie had passed out, hit his head, and now he had some memory loss. Well actually, he had total memory loss. Which was probably very, very bad. He didn't look injured though. He seemed perfectly lucid, his pupils weren't dialated, and they reacted to light and motion. There was no sign of head injury at all. So what the hell was going on?
"Okay, okay," Garret murmured, and offered one of his sweet, calming yet completely heart melting smiles. "You're crying because you've just suffered a little trauma, you weren't breathing when I found you. Your body is just reacting to the adrenaline of the situation, you'll calm down in a minute. Breathe in..." Garret drew in a breath, waiting for Rorie to do the same before exhaling again. "And out. Okay. Your name is Rorie, this is your house. You're twenty six, and I'm..." Pausing, Garret decided that the truth could wait. "I'm a friend of yours. You called me, and then you passed out, I think, so I came over. But you're okay now."
He breathed in at the same time as Garret as well as out. Okay. He could. . . Listen and sit and that was about all he was doing right then. Everything felt shaky and jelly like and he didn't know if he could get up even if he wanted to. "I'm Rorie? My name's Rorie." Twenty six? He was young, he felt young, but didn't always mean that he was young. How did he know that? Rorie didn't know, but right then he only had a first name and an age as well as a friend. "Who are you? What's your name?"
A very, very, VERY big part of Garret wanted to cry. This was his Rorie, and Rorie was looking at him like he was a stranger. He'd always been Rorie's rock, his source of balance and strength. Now he was nothing in those eyes. But he had to keep casual. "My name's Garret," he said with a smile. "Listen, um, how are you feeling right now? Physically, I mean? Do you have a headache, soreness, anything like that? I just want to be sure we don't need to take you to a hospital right away before we sort out the bigger questions, you know?"
"I. . . I'm shaky and. . . Everything feels weird," Rorie said, looking down at himself as he shifted to stand. Whoooaaaa. It felt like he was drunk, but he was sober. As far as he knew. Wobbling a bit, he managed to get his legs under him enough to squat as he attempted to use the stool next to him like a ladder and climb to standing. "Bigger questions? What bigger questions? Besides how this happened," he said as he grunted to pull himself up and just fell back down in a heap. It was like this wasn't his body and he didn't know how to control his own limbs and strength.
Getting up onto his knees, Garret watched carefully as Rorie tried to get up, and then fell. He wanted to go to him, grab him and help, hold him, but he didn't want to scare the guy. But when Rorie fell again, he couldn't hang back anymore. Scooping his arms beneath Rorie's arms, Garret pulled him up until he was standing, then situated him onto a stool.
"Bigger questions like... well I don't know, any questions you might have? Unless you just want to go lay down and rest, I don't want to push you."
Being lifted up from the ground, Rorie's eyes widened till he was put down solidly on a stool and made sure he wasn't going to fall over. "Thanks," he said, looking up at Garret, giving a slight smile. "Where are we? Like, I know in my house, but where on the map?" He was kinda really curious. Right then he had no idea what was going on and all he had was Garret to help him. For all he knew he was a complete asshole that only had one friend, Garret. "Do I have a job? Wife? Kids? Pets? Family?" He asked.
These were a lot of questions, and Garret wasn't really prepared for the barrage of them. How much should Rorie know right now? Would knowing too much harm him? How much did Garret have a right to keep from him? He didn't really have time to debate these questions properly, so Garret did what he did best- diversions. Some things, like the three way marriage, was probably best left unmentioned for now.
"We are in Danvers Massachusetts," he began, making his voice sound like he was retelling all the important details of Rorie's life. "But originally you're from New Jersey. You moved up here with your older brother, Finn, who has a horrible cat named Thing that we think is the devil incarnate. You have a dog, Pete, and he's... completely useless as far as animals go. And you're in a band. They're only okay, nothing amazing or anything, but it makes you happy that you've got a creative outlet." All the while Garret fussed over Rorie, overwhelming him in other, less distructive ways as distraction. He now had a glass of water, and Garret made a show of checking his pulse and looking at his pupils and looking him over for injury that he already knew Rorie didn't have.
Rorie just tried to soak in as much as possible as Garret checked him over. His pulse was really high, but he felt fine. There should be a reason for him to be worried about feeling his heart go a million miles a minute, but he felt calm. Which was kinda weird. "So, this is my house then?" Rorie said as he looked around, taking everything in.
"Where's Pete?" He asked, looking for any signs to dog life around the area he could see.
"If he has any brains, he's in the garage." Garret frowned, glancing toward the garage door. "He and I don't get along. I think it's because I'm smart and he drools." Sliding onto the stool beside Rorie, Garret regarded him, a faint smile on his face.
Chuckling, Rorie nodded his head. "He's not a bright dog then," he said as sat there for a moment. Things just felt so off kilter that he wasn't sure what to do. "Can you show me around the house?" He asked. For most people that might have seemed stupid, but he needed to know and maybe he could see some pictures that would jog his memory.
Rorie wanted a tour of the house. Rorie had pictures of his husbands, and Max, all over the house. That could be problematic. Still, Garret appeared unshaken. "You want a grand tour? Not a problem." Standing up, he offered a hand for Rorie to take. "Here we have the deluxe kitchen, complete with a stove, oven, dishwasher and a fine butcher block island in the center. Follow me, we'll visit the charming downstairs bathroom, and then on to the living room." Leading the way, Garret's eyes scanned for photographs that he'd need to remove, knock over, and hide.
"Thanks," Rorie said as he took Garret's hand and tested his legs first before he stood up all the way. Okay, he was doing better now. That made him feel a bit more sturdy. Taking a moment, he didn't let go of Garret's hand as he started the tour. It felt okay, not awkward, so he didn't think anything of it. "How did I buy this place? I mean, it's like something out of a magazine," Rorie said as Garret rattled everything off. "If I'm in an okay band, how did I get all this?" Everything looked amazing and he was paying attention to what Garret was listing and not to the pictures that may or may not be laying around.
Rorie was really asking Garret to lie pretty quickly. He could have just not said anything, but Rorie eventually he'd have to explain how he could have this house without actually having a job. Dead rich parents? Maybe. But when he met Finn he'd figure out the truth. Garret could explain the rooms, which he was doing, but he couldn't gloss over an entire house. And he could hide the photos of himself and Mal, which he was also doing, but sooner or later he'd have to figure out something.
Pausing in the bedroom, Garret leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. "You got this house from me," he said after a moment. "That sounds a lot weirder than it is. See, I live next door... with my husband. His name's Mal. He's kind of... intense... but you two get along now. And you're one of my best friends and you needed somewhere to live, and I wanted you close, so I bought you a house." Technically, it was true. Mostly.
"Oh, okay," Rorie said after Garret explained. If they were such good friends, then maybe it was okay. After all, maybe he didn't have a place to live like Garret said. He could have been homeless or something. "Thanks, if I never told you that. For the house," he said smiling softly as he looked around at the room. "It's really a great place. I can already tell that I love living here," he said sitting down on the bed.
"Jesus! This bed is fantastic," Rorie grinned as he laid back on it. For the fact that he knew nothing about himself or anyone, he was taking things in stride pretty well. Sitting up a moment, he looked over at Garret and smiled. "I don't know why, but. . . It's easy to accept this. Like something inside of me is telling me it's true, even if it is too good." Sighing he looked around again. "Gotta be awful lonely in this big house by myself."