thisavrou_log | away with us he's going, the solemn-eyed.

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away with us he's going, the solemn-eyed.

Who: Residents of St. Monmouth & OPEN to their various guests
When: Throughout February
Where: St. Monmouth in Kauto R2
What: The Backstreet Boys move into their magical farm of dreams.
Warnings: Look to the subject headers.
Notes: This is a mingle/catch-all log. Start your own threads! Tag around!

[Ronan didn't hesitate. Almost as soon as they arrived, he was making arrangements and picking out a plot of land. No payment necessary as long as he agreed to feed the locals? Fine. Perfect. He'd signed whatever he had to and picked out his favorite place in the lot, then he'd laid down in the grass and dreamt.

When he closed his eyes, he wasn't sure what he would build. The idea of "home" conjured up so many images in his mind. He thought of the Barns, of course, but also of Henrietta as a whole. He thought of Monmouth Manufacturing and dusty old books and the scent of mint. He thought of St. Agnes and its magnificent stained glass and the cramped coziness of Adam's bedroom above the office. He found Cabeswater sprouting up in the strangest places as the landscape shifted around him, spilling out of the walls and claiming rooms all for its own. Corridors and staircases emerged out of his memories, leading him through a maze of rooms both familiar and not-quite. In the end, when Ronan stepped outside to take a look at his work, he found he'd made himself a palace of nostalgia. Then he imagined a set of house keys, turned the lock of the front door, and woke up.

Ronan woke with his head resting on the welcome mat, sprawled across the front steps, gazing up at the spire of what he would dub St. Monmouth. It would be the main building of several he'd end up creating. Their new home.

Like God, he didn't rest for several days. Every time he shut his eyes, he devoted himself to dreaming something new. A farm needed animals and crops and barns and feed and equipment. Home needed streams and fish and bridges and flower gardens and glittering lights. He let his imagination run wild, and this meant that his dream things often emerged strange and senseless, but that reminded him of his father, which made the place more beautiful.

When he was finally satisfied - although not completely finished - he invited the others to join him.]

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[ Adam's breath keeps catching as he tries to control the crying, breathing himself through it until it'll abate. Andyr keeps him centered, stops him from spiraling too far out of control. He's still feeling the panic running through his veins that he can't control but he also doesn't have to control it as much when he's here. Andyr would protect Ronan from everything including him.

There is comfort in the way Andyr cocoons them in the blankets, their bodies pressed close and it's probably akin to breathing into a paper bag when you have a panic attack. It just helps block out some of the noise somehow. He reaches a hand up blindly, resting it on Andyr's cheek a gesture he often does. He likes to touch people's faces though he's never quite figured out why. ]

I'm sorry. [ the tears are coming less now, but the verge to fall into them fully again is right there as well. ]

With her teeny kitten claws that feel like razor blades.

[ says the man with more pain endurance than probably the entire moira crew. which is probably why he's more half-smiling when he says it, and tossing a dirty sock in noah's direction. don't you make fun of him, ghost boy.

meanwhile, petra has pounced the little ball, fallen over on her side, and is currently biting it, with her little footers trying to kick at it as she hugs it to her fluffy lil tummy. ]

[ Jesse is in a deep, heavy sleep. He hasn't been sleeping much - he can't sleep a lot of the time, all the shit trapped in his head won't let him - but whenever he finally does manage to, it's a profound and exhausted sleep. Curled up on his stomach, the side of his face buried into the pillow. It makes him look small and vulnerable.

He doesn't hear the rumble of the heavy, industrial door being rolled open. He's completely unaware of anyone standing over him. Until there's a hand suddenly shaking him awake.

It startles him out of dreamless sleep, and he snaps his eyes open to look up. His exhausted brain is expecting to see Mike there. He's taken utterly by surprise to see Andyr standing over him instead. Jesse's bedroom smells of stale cigarette smoke, spray paint, trash, filth - a disturbing insight into Jesse's state of mind, really. With a sigh, Jesse rolls slowly onto his side and his back, and he's half expecting Andyr to drag his ass out of bed the way he'd dragged Jesse out of the club.

But the look on Andyr's face is nothing like how he'd looked in the club. If anything, Andyr looks... Well, a small frown of concern furrows on Jesse's brow despite himself, and he wearily props himself up onto his elbows. ]

Hey. Everything okay, man?

[ there's nothing of the agitation and mounting violence that andyr'd been soaked in when they'd found him in the club, now. just a quietness to him, and a distance. this room stinks, smoke and booze and stale chips. too much cheap cologne, something that's probably drugs. it floods his senses, and he hates the stench of it, but he knows the man wrapped up in it. what's underneath it - despair, hopelessness, a waning will to hold on.

for a still moment, andyr's crouched there, at the edge of the mattress, watching that concern on jesse's features. all this apathy and recklessness and harsh bitterness he's wearing, and he still asks andyr this. ]

You're not.

[ he's not either, but that's always been a given. for years, andyr has not been okay, and that's the entire point of him. that's not something anyone here can fix, but at the same time, andyr isn't going anywhere. not until something comes to a point where he's better off removed. not like jesse, who's been half a step from leaving them since monmouth came out of ronan's head.

eventually, andyr shifts forward, loose sleep clothes making a quiet rustling as he scoots onto the edge of jesse's mattress, set on the floor without a frame, and he lays on his side, knees curled up to his chest, at the very edge of the bed. snaking his hand out, a couple fingers hook into jesse's, curling just enough to tangle them. ]

Don't go.

[ Jesse feels pinned to the spot, caught like a deer in the headlights at Andyr's simple remark: You're not. Through his exhausted sleepiness, his brain scrambles for a response but all he can do is stare at Andyr.

Until Andyr is slowly shifting onto his bed. Without question or hesitation, Jesse slowly starts shifting over to make room for Andyr, and as he lies down on his back, his head on the pillow and turned towards Andyr, that same frown of concern stays fixed on Jesse's face. Strange, seeing Andyr curling up next to him like this, seeming so small and fragile. Feeling Andyr's hand finding his, Jesse lets him twine their fingers together.

Don't go. That's even more unexpected, and the quiet, earnest way Andyr says that hits Jesse in the chest like a sledgehammer. A request he doesn't remotely deserve to be told, and a request that some utterly lost, desperately lonely part of him has longed to hear someone to say to him.

The concerned frown dissolves into something pensive and raw. His fingers tangled with Andyr's tighten with a subtle squeeze. He doesn't know what to say. ]

I'm right here, man. I'm-I'm... What's wrong?

( Continued from here. )

Right.

[He's not particularly happy that someone shares his conclusion. It'd be nice to find a person with enough knowledge or confidence to assure him they're finally in a place where they can relax. Without it being a lie, of course.]

I think it's one of those "hope for the best, prepare for the worst" scenarios. Enjoy it while it lasts, but be ready for the sky to fall any second.

[This is as optimistic as Ronan Lynch can get anymore.]

[Ronan, who spends a good portion of every day in his dreams, has difficulty sleeping when night rolls around. Especially if Adam isn't near. So he is not asleep, though he's doing a reasonable impression until Andyr approaches. He recognizes the way Andyr touches him, tracing his features like a blind man admiring a sculptor's work. Ronan's lashes flutter and he opens his eyes, staring at Andyr through the dark.]

What does "okay" mean?

[Because Ronan, unlike most people, cannot answer that question with a simple reassurance. He can't say whatever Andyr wants to hear and then send him on his way, tuck him into bed for a peaceful rest.]

[ it's good andyr isn't looking for reassurance, just truth, which is why he's asking at all. ronan doesn't lie, nor does he sugar coat anything. andyr wakes up feeling out of place in the air around him, and he needs something that sounds like reality, not a bandaid or a lullaby. his fingertips still trace, down the line of ronan's jaw, as if there's answers in the structure of it. ]

'Happy'? [ no, that isn't quite it. you can be some kind of happy and still not have everything fitting the way it's supposed to. which is what brings him to what he means, he thinks. ] 'Right'.

[ is this good, what they are? is it helping, or just rotting the both of them away? ronan and adam. all he'd wanted from that night in the tent was to give ronan that one piece of perfection he'd been yearning for, and it feels like he's done nothing but ruin it. unsurprisingly - he wasn't made for things like this. he loves him, adores him, achingly so, but andyr's a rusty weapon that feels more himself hurting than he does healing. ]

Edited 2017-02-21 06:46 (UTC)

[ there's no point in jesse trying to deny it, they'd all seen the change in him, the feeling of damnation he carries around on his shoulders like a security blanket now. he hasn't told any of them what happened in the time he was away, or why he'd disappeared, or what's been going on inside his head, but the result of it is a familiar enough kind of spiral that andyr doesn't think he needs the details to understand it.

at first, when they'd found him, he'd been enraged - he'd been scared, and scared, on andyr prince, looks like snarling and vitriolic snapping. the longer jesse's depression and listlessness clung to him, the deeper that fear reached, and the harder it was to simply be mad about it, or even pissy. this isn't something andyr knows how to fix, or soothe, or ever breach the topic of, just as he feels helpless to try to give any kind of balm to ronan's self-damning gospels. there's nothing true that he can say and nothing uplifting that he can imagine. he's just here, and half the time that seems like more of a hindrance than anything else.

andyr'd found these people, and there's moments he doesn't believe they're real, that any of this is anything outside of synapses firing inside a partly brain dead skull, but god, he's so terrified to lose them. ]

I don't care what happened. [ andyr's murmuring in the quiet of the room, eyes on jesse's fingers laced in his. ] Just want you to stay.

[ stay here, stay himself, stay alive. he's not sure which he means. maybe all of them. and he's part sure all of it is still asking too much, from jesse and from ronan and from adam. ]

If you have to hurt, let me hurt with you.

[This is a very difficult question. Ronan sits up slowly, taking the hand that explores him and bringing it to his lips so he can kiss Andyr's fingertips.]

We're going against everything I ever believed in.

[There's an ugly truth. Still, Ronan's lips skip across Andyr's palm and down to his wrist.]

Practically, I don't think it matters that much. I was already going to Hell for being what I am.

[Gay. Promiscuous. Self-destructive. A monster formed from darkness. A god invading God's territory. He has seen the Devil with his own eyes. He is being devoured by a demon. There's no "right" with him, for all his struggling. He's inherently evil.]

And I love you. I don't want to stop.

[ Jesse has to look away. He lolls his head against the pillow to peer up at the ceiling, jaw pressed tight together, eyes beginning to burn with tears out of nowhere. His chin quivers ever so slightly under the stress of him trying to hold those tears back. His Adam's apple bobs up and down, his throat growing thick with a lump swelling in it. ]

Not even if... [ He's trying so hard to keep his voice steady and hard, but it cracks. He swallows again and forces himself to continue with mirthless humour: ] Not even if I did something really bad? You don't care what happened?

[ Voice cracking on the last couple of words, again. There's so much self-hatred hidden within his wavering voice, almost verging on an anger that's erupting within him out of nowhere. A single tear suddenly escapes and rolls down his cheek towards his ear. ]

[ Blue's already weaved a few colorful flowers into her own hair, the spiky ends pinned away from her face with multicolored barrettes, but a few of the more wily pieces have slipped out and whip back and forth in the breeze. It's enough that she has to push the wisps of hair away every few moments, but not enough to force her to try and adjust all the pins.

She'd expected to be alone for hours. Expected to come and go without ever being bothered -- not that Adam's presence was really a bother, she enjoyed any time that she got to spend with him -- so it's a pleasant surprise when the boy takes a seat next to her. Still covered in grease and grime from the day. ]

Hey. [ Blue picks up another flower, braiding it in with the circle of others in her hand. ] Long day at the office? [ She grins, holding the crown away from her for a moment to see how her work is coming along. ]

I think Adam would absolutely hate that idea.

[Ronan doesn't mean to be cruel about it. It's the honest truth, though. Adam hates Ronan's music, and he hates alcohol, and he hates just about everything else that would go into a house party thrown by Ronan Lynch. The fact is, Adam always hated everything about Ronan - tastes included - and Ronan knew it. Theirs is an attraction that logically should have remained one-sided. Probably would have, if not for a certain magical accident.]

But, I mean, it can always be a party in here.

[ 'i've done a lot of really bad things', andyr wants to tell him, but this isn't about him. his head shakes, as much as it can lying down, anyway, and the hand woven with jesse's lifts (refusing to disentangle for the action), to catch the tears that sneak away from the corner of his eye. ]

I don't care. [ andyr whispers back to him, honest. there are plenty of things andyr can and has despised people for, but he'd already decided, with jesse, that he's one of his. if he'd made a choice, if he'd fucked up, if he'd found something dark inside him that he couldn't purge, it doesn't matter. ] Doesn't matter.

[ jesse's his friend - once andyr's decided that about a person, it takes mountains moved to change it. ] Just stay with us.

[Hiding things from Noah is sort of an impossible task. Ronan came to that conclusion a long time ago, maybe even before he realized Noah was dead. So he doesn't try to clap his hands shut or curl his body around the dream to conceal it.

But he doesn't hold it up for Noah to look at, either. He's afraid that if he does, the contrast between it and Noah's illusion will be too strong, and Ronan's mind will realize what he's looking at when he looks at Noah. He's seen it once already. He's trying to forget.]

It's...

[Maybe the problem with the dream is that Ronan doesn't know what to call it. He gets the sense that it might be heresy to utter the words that immediately come to mind. He is playing with things a mortal shouldn't be playing with. It's God's realm.

The light pulses between his fingers like a heartbeat.]

It's not finished.

[ it isn't a surprising truth. he'd known this about ronan before they'd started this, they both had, and still, they did it. cruel, really, on his and adam's part, but here they are. ronan sits up, and andyr wants to curl around him, scooting closer, at least, to feel his warmth and soak it up. he talks about himself like he's something wrong, and andyr's never been able to understand that. not when he's seen what humans are left in the world. how anything about him could be called evil, andyr just can't understand. ]

You have a kinder, brighter soul than anyone I've known. [ andyr tells him, thumb caressing over ronan's cheek, as he leans in to touch their foreheads together. ] Wherever you go, I wanna go with you.

[ hell included. it isn't as if he hasn't already lived through man's best attempt to recreate it on earth. if those are the souls that make it to heaven, though, and ronan is the one that's damned, andyr'd rather follow him there. ]

I love you. [ andyr whispers to him, and wraps his arms around ronan's sides, squeezing up against him. swallowing thick, it takes a moment or two, but he eventually tells him. ] I'm sorry we did this to you.

Edited 2017-02-21 13:48 (UTC)

[ Jesse squeezes his eyes shut as Andyr's knuckle brushes away that lone tear from his cheek, and the action of closing his eyes serves to do nothing except make tears welled up in both his eyes to spill out.

It does matter. It matters. Gale wasn't a Tuco, or a rival dealer using kids to sell meth, or a Gus, or a fucking Heisenberg. He was just Gale. The innocent guy who got caught in the crossfire. The problem dog that had to be put down simply because he was a problem. A problem that needed to be dealt with. ]

S-So, I'm-I'm s'posed to just-- [ His voices hitches. He has to pause to try and force himself back under control. Managing to steel himself, his voice is strained and wavering, clipped with a raw anger: ] So, I'm s'posed to just forget about it? Just carry on living here like nothing happened? 'Cause it doesn't matter?

You didn't do anything to me.

[Ronan doesn't waste a second in denying that statement. It would be absolutely absurd to blame his sins on another person. Every moment of life is a test from God. These temptations are scattered along everyone's path, and it's the individual's job to ignore them and carry on.

Ronan is flawed because he can't do that. It was up to no one else but him. He lost Adam's love because he hadn't been able to wait and he'd given himself to Andyr without stopping to think. Because of that, he'll never have the kind of eternal love he'd always wanted. He'll live in sin. He'll die and rot in Hell. He wasn't helpless. He knew all of these things when he made his choices.

He is not kind or bright. He is weak and hurtful. He thinks of the rotting tree in Cabeswater and believes that, surely, is what his soul looks like.]

Is that what's keeping you up at night? Andyr... I'm the one who came to you.

[He brushes Andyr's lips with a soft kiss.]

A lot of stuff keeps me up at night. [ Andyr smiles against the kiss, somewhat sadly, a thumb smoothing across Ronan's cheek. ] You're one of the few things that helps me sleep.

[ he knows Ronan chose to do what they'd done in that tent together, that was both of them, but Andyr doesn't believe that act had been what broke them. Knows Ronan believes he's being some kind of punished, because he believes he's cursed by his nature alone, all the other bits of human mistakes just give him fuel for the fire. There's no point arguing that with him, when not even Adam could convince him otherwise.

The blame Andyr assigns himself in this is something more current, something entirely his own choice. ]

I wanted you to have that life, and you almost did. [ Andyr whispers to him, palms framing Ronan's cheeks delicately. ] All I had to do was stay the fuck away. I should've just left and made you two figure it out. Now, its this.

[ some kind of farce of affection, Adam trying to make Ronan happy, Ronan trying to please Adam despite feeling like he'd already lost him, and Andyr, somewhere in between, being the tool they hurt each other with.

He wonders, maybe, if he should just go. Slip out a window at night and vanish into another district, force the two of them to mend. They're all each other needs and all each other wants - Andyr'd thought he was trying to help them, but in truth, he was just being selfish and weak, lying to himself until he could believe he was actually needed. ] What've I actually ever given you, besides a crutch?

[ why does ronan keep telling him he loves him when all his existence has done is take from him? Ruin the one small piece of a chase he had for a happy life. ]

It doesn't matter to me. [ of course it matters to jesse, or he wouldn't be like this. andyr knows he can't control that, what guilt, or regret, or despair he feels over whatever he'd done. maybe someone better with words or inspirational speeches could help him with it, but andyr isn't that person. all he can give is himself, useless as that feels most days. ]

If you could forget about it, you already would have. [ the tears squeezing from the corners of his eyes tell that much, and andyr wipes at them with careful fingertips. no one wants to be in pain like this. ]

Tell me, if you want. [ it won't change the fact andyr wants him here, misses him, cares for him. ]

[ A laugh bubbles out of Jesse. There's no humour to it; it's a bleak, caustic little laugh, with something unhinged lurking just beneath the surface. The tears Andyr is wiping away so gently from Jesse's cheeks are immediately chased by two more tears slipping down from his eyes.

Why is Andyr doing this? Back on the streets the other night, when Andyr had dragged his junkie ass out of that club, spat at Jesse that his head was up his ass, no sympathy or kindness or gentleness - Jesse had taken it because he deserved it. He'd hated it but he deserved it. Being treated like a giant piece of shit was easier to take than this.

His hand still entwined with Andyr's squeezes tight, though. Like the weak ass little bitch he is, affection and tenderness have always been Jesse's weak spots. He has always craved affection and tenderness in ways that borders on downright pathetic and desperate. Indignant anger is simmering away at him that Andyr would just dismiss the terrible thing Jesse has done, but all Jesse really wants is to roll onto his side towards Andyr and bury himself in whatever tenderness and affection Andyr is willing to give him. ]

Tell you, and then what? You'll tell me it doesn't matter? That it's okay? 'Cause deep down, I'm a good guy or some bullshit?

[ Jesse's words are choked, venomous, devastated, thick and raspy with anger and tears, all at once. ]

[ what andyr'd been the night they'd dragged him out of the club was scared, helpless, and distressed. what that all comes out to, is the same thing any conflicting emotion comes out to with andyr prince - anger. it takes time for him to come to a place where he feels like he can experience these things, without risk of... he's not really sure anymore. he's been this way for so long, and the way he'd kept it up was 'don't think on the whys of it, just do it'. somewhere, andyr knows, this is self-preservation. whether or not it's still necessary, here, seems irrelevant.

he watches jesse seethe now, and andyr thinks it must be the same for him. something's broken, irreparably, and you have more control telling yourself you'd done it on purpose than struggling under the weight of having been defeated. andyr doesn't think along the same lines jesse does, though. or daisy does, or ronan does, or adam does. ]

I don't care if you're a good guy or a bad guy. [ andyr tells him simply, and it's the truth. he couldn't give a flying fuck what category jesse thinks he falls into, or anyone else places him in, or what his actions designate him as. andyr has blood soaked into his skin, from innocent and deserving, and questioning where that places his soul on the scale of damnation is another concept he'd abandoned when he'd become what he is now. semantics. ]

You're Jesse.

[ and what andyr knows is jesse is good to him. he isn't asking more than that from him, or anyone, here, and never has. thankfully, they either haven't done the same to him, or have yet to realize they have a mass murderer under their roof and in their beds. ]

[ insatiable, and andyr adores him for it. that moan is a musical, beautiful thing, and andyr's lips dip to adam's shoulder, sucking up new marks along his freckled skin, as he smiles against the warm thrum of him. adam strokes at him generously, and andyr's already growing rapidly hard again, hips pressing up into his welcoming hand, grinding against adam's, as he sighs out pleasantly. ]

I didn't spend as much time getting wrung out as you. [ he hadn't been fucked by ronan just prior, and then stuck between the both of them in the shower. adam's such a gorgeous, sexual creature, and andyr's never going to complain about him wanting more and more of him. ]

You're a gift. [ andyr murmurs against the shell of his ear, hands at his ass groping and squeezing, spreading his cheeks and tracing a teasing finger pad along the velvet soft skin and twitching pucker between them. ]

[ smiles look softer, sweeter, on adam's lips, andyr decides. he wants to lean up and kiss him, but he's too comfortable where he is, so instead, andyr squeezes the hand against his chest, watching the boy above him fondly. ]

You went to rich kid school? [ his brows arc, impressed. ] Must be smart.

[ andyr'd gone to simple, cheap, public school, and on top of that, never finished it. though that was less his fault and more so hapsburg's. ]

[ the distraction of adam's body, of the heat between them, and the sweet slide of their lips, is driving the nerves that came with wandering the house away, his world zeroing down to the boy in his arms, and the virginal little flips his stomach is doing in nervous excitement, as andyr's hand trails further up his naked side.

hooking his thumbs, andyr drags the shirt up as well, pulling it to rest just under adam's arm pits, leaving his smooth, young chest exposed and beautiful in the dim light of the room. ]

If you want me to stop, just say so. [ andyr tells him quietly, but he's dipping forward, sucking the the side of adam's neck, and lower, along his collar bones. down his chest, straying to a nipple, to kiss and lick lightly, glancing back up to his eyes now and again, to gauge if he ought to pull away. ]

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Page 21 of 27

away with us he's going, the solemn-eyed.

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8< sweet babbin