Fisher Majors (hearitbleed) wrote in tiberiusswann, @ 2009-05-11 09:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | fisher, james |
Sunday, 11/4/07
Who: James and Fisher
What: The Fight, part 1
Where: Their Room/G-wing hallway
Why: James broke Lyle's arm and Fisher is hella pissed
Rating: R for language.
Fisher Majors was livid.
It had been such a good day so far, too. It had been such a good weekend. There were ghosts all over the place, and Fisher had decided that instead of ignoring them, he would do something about them. He'd already helped a few of them talk to loved ones, and all of those times had ended in tears. Good tears, though. Happy tears. Fisher had felt good about what he was doing. And he had spoken to a professor this time, and while it had been a little strange, he felt proud of hmself. He couldn't wait to talk to James about it.
But then, out of the blue, one of the dead patients Fisher saw sometimes came shuffling into his bedroom. And told him that his roommate, or "the less queer of you two", was kicking the crap out of a young vampire who looked a lot like Fisher. And his arm was broken, and James was bleeding out the face. And Fisher's jaw dropped. And then he got mad. Enlisting Jack as lookout, Fisher paced back and forth, seething. What the fuck was wrong with James?? What made him think that just because Lyle had upset Fisher, that meant he should go beat him up? Break his fucking arm?? He should've seen this coming. This was how James settled problems, like a goddamn Neanderthal.
After what seemed like forever, Jack came drifting through the wall, looking worried. Fisher stood right in front of the door, pulling it open right as James was reaching for the doorknob. He stood there, facing his boyfriend, arms crossed, a stone look on his face and fire in his eyes. "Tell me you didn't," he said, his tone dark.
---
So James had been shuffled off to the infirmary. And while he was there, he was approached by the acting Director who was demanding answers about what had happened and why it had happened. James told him nothing, of course, and Professor Eden had left the place frustrated with the promise hanging in the air that Professor Alekos would be notified of the incident and he could expect to hear from him first thing tomorrow. Great. Of course he was less worried about him than he was about what Fisher was going to do to him.
His nose was broken. He had one of those things across it and had been instructed to go back to his room, get into bed, and keep ice on it. Obviously they did not realize what was going to go down once he got back to his room. He'd be lucky if he didn't end up in the infirmary again before the night was over.
The door to the room was pulled open before he had a chance to even lay a hand on it and he sighed, his guilt showing through his eyes. "I could say that I didn't, but I'd be lying." His tone was as calm and cool as it ever was, but his heart was beating fast inside of his chest. He was scared. James didn't normally get scared but Fisher... that boy really had him by the short hairs.
---
Now that James was here, Fisher took a good look at him, his eyes cold. James had a strip across his nose, which was pretty much useless even on a human. James would be healing so fast that unless the bone was set properly, no strip would make a damn bit of difference. He looked pretty beat up. Good. Fisher was almost glad that Lyle had gotten a few good hits in. If he'd been asked beforehand who would win the fight, Fisher would've voted James, no contest. But he didn't know much about Lyle, and for all he knew Lyle was a prize fighter these days. He was also a vampire, which meant he was stronger, faster. It must have been a pretty decent match.
He was still staring at James, just... disgusted. There was no other way to describe himself. He was just disgusted with James. He didn't move, didn't step aside so James could come inside. He didn't care if everyone in the hall knew their business. "Why?" he asked, demanded. "Just tell me why, James. What the fuck would make you think that you should... that I would want you to... God damnit, James." It was his fucking brother, for crying out loud. Fisher stood there, solid as a mountain, waiting. This had better be an explaination on par with the fucking Gettysberg Address, he thought to himself.
---
Ugh. The way that Fisher was looking at him was putting James' stomach in knots. He was so angry. He could practically feel it radiating off of him. And apparently he wasn't even going to let him into their room. So now they had to have this talk here, in the hall, where everyone was listening.
"I tried to talk to him." He said, and then he scoffed as he shook his head. "You know what, why should I bother? It doesn't matter what I say, you're still going to be pissed about it. And really, I don't have a good reason. He was talking shit about you. I didn't like it. He shoved me, I shoved back. Things... escalated." And that was putting it mildly.
"What more do you want me to say, Fisher?" He asked, looking rather defeated at the moment because he just knew that this entire conversation was utterly pointless.
---
James was right. This was a kind of pointless conversation. Fisher was angry, and he knew why James had done it and that had pissed him off all the more. He didn't need James to act like his protector, at least not from his baby brother. People were always going to say mean things to him. What was James going to do, hurt them all? "There is nothing you can say, I guess," he admitted. There was nothing James could've said that might have made things better anyway. And Fisher knew that. And no, it wasn't fair that James was just stuck and couldn't say anthing to help his plight. But he didn't care.
Well that wasn't entirely true. James could try apologizing, try feelign remorse. But he wasn't sorry, and he probably would have done it again in a heartbeat. So this conversation was over. Fisher was just so angry, he didn't even want James near him, didn't want to look at his face. So he shut the door between them, turning the lock in place.
---
When Fisher agreed with him, James just sort of shrugged his shoulders. Now what? He ran a hand back through his hair and winced as he touched a gash that was on his scalp from having his head rammed into the wall. No, it wasn't fair. And he wasn't going to try to explain it right now, not when Fisher was still so pissed off that he couldn't even see straight. He'd wait until tomorrow, until the man had calmed down, before he bothered to go into any detail.
As for being sorry, well, he was and he wasn't. He would do it again, yes, because he was right in doing so. But he wouldn't have wanted to break the guy's arm. He felt bad about that. Really bad. But as for the rest of it, he didn't feel any remorse, no. But telling Fisher that wouldn't help his case at all.
A sigh parted his lips as Fisher slammed the door shut and locked it. "Fisher!" He yelled, waiting for a moment before he moved a hand up to knock on the door. "Open the fucking door!" He yelled again, then banged a few more times. "Can you at least let me get some fucking clothes before you kick me out?" The ones he had on were bloody and torn and he didn't care to sleep in them all night long much less have to wear them tomorrow when he went to face Nox.
---
Fisher was leaning against the door, his back against it, head turned to the side. His body shook as James pounded on the wood. On either side of Fisher's head were James' handprints, forever burned there. "No!" he yelled back, pounding his own fist against the door. There was no fucking way James was coming back in. It was Fisher's room first, he could kick James out if he damned well pleased.
"Why don't you go break Lyle's other arm and steal his clothes!" he shouted. "You both have such massive egos, you probably wear the same size- double fucking asshole!" He didn't care if everyone heard them, if there were people standing in the hallway staring at James. He deserved it. Fisher could not remember a time he was ever so angry, especially not at a person he loved so much. But now he was mad, and he wanted everyone to know it.
---
And now Fisher was just pissing him off. He was trying to be nice. He was trying to be rational. And Fisher was making that impossible. And he wouldn't even let him get any goddamn clean clothes!
James let out a growl as he slammed both fists hard against the door. "Fine then! Just.. fuck it!" He yelled, and then turned around with his back towards the door. "Next time someone makes you fucking cry, don't come running to me, ASS!" He growled again, his hand running back through his hair which was again met with a hiss.
"Damnit, Fisher!" He said after a moment of silence, turning back to face the door. "At least fucking throw some at me or something. I don't wanna run around in bloody, ripped clothes all fucking night!"
---
Fisher's body jolted forward a little, James' fists shaking the door. He pounded back again. "I didn't come running to you, I came home! You just happened to be here!" Of course he had come running to James. But that was a low blow, and Fisher was looking for blood himself now. "But fine, I won't! Next time you break down, why don't you go fuck yourself!" That didn't even make sense and he didn't care.
"You deserve to, you goddamn prick!" Maybe if he hadn't picked a fight with Lyle, and gotten his nose broken, and done who knows how much damage to Lyle, then he wouldn't have to run around in bloody clothing. But he wanted something to wear? Fine. The door swung open, Fisher dark and furious on the other side. "You want something to wear? Fine." He slipped the ring off his finger, hurling it at James as hard as he could. "I don't fucking want it. What are you gonna do, James, when I bring you home and come out to my mother, and she freaks out?? You gonna slam her into a wall too??" He was starting to cry, he was so flipping mad. "I shouldn't be suprised. This is what you do. You overreact and you get angry and you fucking hurt people." He slammed the door again, this time not locking it, just leaning back against it, sobbing. "Fuck you," he called out weakly. "Get out of here."
---
"Maybe I fucking will!!!" James yelled back at him, though he didn't mean it. He was just angry and Fisher wasn't doing anything to help settle that anger.
"I know I do!" James screamed back at him, and then the door opened and Fisher was standing there, looking more pissed than James had ever seen him, tears streaming down his cheeks. And then his ring, his father's ring, was flying at him. He ducked to keep it from hitting him in the head, his eyes wide. Fuck. He really had screwed up. And bad. "I'M SORRY!" He screamed back at him. "I'm sorry that I love you so fucking much!"
The door was slammed shut again and he could hear Fisher crying on the other end. God. This was fucking killing him. And there was nothing else he could do about it.
James pushed himself away from the door and moved to grab the ring from the floor, stuffing it in his pocket because it didn't belong on his finger anymore. He glanced back at the door and sighed. "Fine. I'm going." He said it loud enough that Fisher could hear him, and then he walked off, ignoring all the looks he was getting as he made his way to the common room where he'd be spending the night.
---
He couldn't stop crying. He couldn't stop shaking. He couldn't stand up, sliding down until he was sitting on his heels. He just fucking cried, sobbing uncontrollably, for he didn't even know how long. He had never been so angry, so scared, so upset. He wanted to scream at James, wanted to strangle Lyle. Wanted to hang himself. His heart hurt and his lungs burned.
Eventually, he got up, locked the door, undressed and climbed into his own bed. It was cold all night.