Calibrations Spill-Over Post

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[catamite]

(continued from here)

[somewhere, the bartender is laughing.

and this time, the drink drops him into a room as small and overwhelmingly silent as an empty glass. the tension makes the whole thing seem as fragile as glass, and actively spilling out.

he's not the one drinking the alcohol this time--she is--though, he can smell it from where he is, sitting on his own bed. the room is mostly dark, but there is a mirror off to one side. it reflects the bedside lamp, and his own face. he's young, with long blond hair, and his face is more pale than it should be.

it's because he's scared. he's watching her--just a few years older and her hair half-dyed darker--as she takes a drink from the bottle he knows she hides under her bed, and stuffs a few last things into the pillow case.]

Get up. [she hisses at him. insistent and rushed.] It's time to go. Right now.

[there are people out in the hallway. a mother and father and who knows who else. they'll be coming back to check on them soon; any minute now.]

Come on! I'm leaving right now.

[she can't be serious, though. there's a lump in his throat, so he can't say that he doesn't want to leave. he just sits there, petrified, as she shoves the window open and climbs out onto the ledge. from there, she turns around and holds out her hand, waving for him to follow.]

--Nel!

[...but he can't. he's too small; he couldn't actually leave here. it's all too heavy, too daunting, too hurried, and he is crushed under the thought of it. he stays rooted to the spot as the handle on the door turns, and he watches her disappear.

it feels like he's watching his last chace jump out the window and run away... but, he's sure she'll come back. there's no way that she would really leave him behind. what else would he have, if she did?

and he sits there and continues to hope, as the booming music returns to break over everything again, washing the vision away.]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[and that one was a mistake too, would you look at that. two shots are enough. two is his tipping point between "this is tolerable" and "this is awful".

he clinks the shot-glass down against the table, looking back over his shoulder, scanning the crowd like he's expecting to see a ghost. funny thing, he's not completely wrong.]

[catamite]

[he's out there; Robin can feel it. the little specter is probably headed right for him. maybe he'll find him right at the bar and they can both sink into it until they're drowning.

and the bartender leans closer, presumably following Robin's line of sight out into the crowd.]

What are you looking for?

[--the question might hold more weight than it sounds.]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[of course it does. it's a bartender's job to make anything appear, from drinks to the illusion of good company. Robin just has to say the magic words, right?]

Nel, [he admits, maybe already getting a little swept up in the tide he's gone and ordered for himself. his eyes don't leave the crowd.] It's been too long...

[catamite]

[the bartender doesn't say anything in response, but it doesn't take long for an elven face to appear from between the gaps in the crowd.

he's rumpled and sweaty, but grinning--maybe a little deliriously--as he squeezes and twines between the bodies around him and goes bounding right for the bar.]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[fuck.

he really misses him.

his own face lights up in a friendly grin, completely genuine, even though his skipping-stone of guilt is now sinking hard and fast towards the bottom of the metaphorical "you're a shitty person" ocean. his hand's up and waving before he can give it a second thought.]

Hey, Nel! You doing good?

[catamite]

[he probably knew Robin was there somewhere, but seeing him, and hearing that he's welcomed, gets him beaming even more brightly. he'd been headed for a spot along the bar a few feet away, but veers in Robin's direction instead.

he squeezes in and bounces up against the bar, landing to lean his forearms on the edge instead of bothering with sitting down. he's full of too much livewire energy for that.]

Hey! I haven't seen you around here in a while.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Yeah. [it's easy to find words, suddenly, easy to lean in closer (to be heard over the noise maybe sorta not really) when he'd been dragging his feet about it before.] I really missed it, though. Outside's so boring.

[stupid. he misses being stupid.] Shit, I want to come back more often.

[catamite]

You do?

[whether or not he remembers why, he's surprised. delighted.]

...Really?

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Really. I mean it.

[he thinks about it a lot, when things get quiet. it still eats him up because he's--well, it's a long list of self-deprecating adjectives. he holds out his hand towards Nel, into the little space between them, smiling in a way that's halfway sly and halfway apologetic.]

You still got it in you for another dance?