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

[nightmarist]

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.]

Comments

[heisenbitch]

[ Jesse is absolutely losing it. Opening his mouth and letting the truth come spilling out like toxic venom is both a relief that's almost suffocating and making the memory of what he did come blazing to life, vivid and terrible, in his mind. He expects Andyr will be disgusted by him because why wouldn't he be? Who wouldn't be disgusted by a guy killing another innocent guy for no reason other than to save his own skin? To save Mr. White's skin?

If Jesse had been the one to listen to someone talking like he is now, he would be repulsed. Call them a sick fuck. Take some kind of moral high ground, despite his own morals being dug nearly six feet under dirt and filth.

Maybe if Andyr had confessed to him at some other time, in some other way, that he, too, is a cold-blooded, merciless killer, Jesse would have backed right off and judged the shit out of him, even in spite of everything Andyr has done for him. Or maybe he would have found himself unable to judge him like that, if only because he'd witnessed first-hand a glimpse into the horrific torture Andyr had been put through in his past.

Silence stretches between Andyr asking if Jesse still wants him here and Jesse lying there staring at him, tears streaming down his face. Jesse's hitching, sobbing breath is the only thing that fills that silence up. He wants to scream at Andyr, demand why Andyr thinks Jesse killing an innocent guy is in any way okay, maybe even scream that Andyr is a sick fuck for thinking this is something Jesse deserves kindness or mercy or acceptance for.

The tenderness of Andyr's fingers having gently brushed his tears away has imprinted a lingering memory on Jesse's cheeks. Just like Andyr dragging his ass out of the club, and Andyr throwing his ass into the shower to clean him up, and Andyr staying with him that same night, the way Ronan had. Though Andyr had been rough and callous with him then, tenderness had lurked underneath. Jesse knows Andyr cares about him. It angers Jesse and weakens him all at once.

Jesse, sad, pathetic, desperately lonely piece of shit that he is who is always longing for tenderness underneath all the chaos he causes, suddenly caves. With his face scrunching up in despair, he shifts on the mattress, rolling onto his side and huddling straight into Andyr's personal space. He buries his face against Andyr's chest with a broken sob, seeking safety and something to anchor him against this awful storm raging inside him.

Of course he still wants Andyr here. He doesn't deserve it, but he can't help it. ]

[deconstruct]

[ with a distant passiveness, andyr watches jesse process this. waits for a hand shoving him away, or another slur of shouting, maybe calling for ronan or adam, to let them know what they'd let into their house with them.

all that comes are the tears that keep streaming from his eyes, but he doesn't reach for them now. won't force his presence on jesse until he knows he wants him here. he can wait, and he does, silent. jesse understands what he's said, and the question he'd asked, there isn't any need to clarify further.

in andyr's eyes, he'd done nothing to deserve admiration, or respect, from jesse. jesse'd always been the one saving him, and when they'd gone to fetch him from the city, it was ronan that did all the talking, kind words and soft sentiments, and andyr was there as muscle. he wanted to help, of course, but this isn't something he does well. even with ronan and adam, andyr always feels like he starts more problems than he solves. so it would be reasonable, if jesse told him to go.

what he gets, instead, is the man rolling into his side, burrowing up against his chest, and letting out a heart wrenching sob. when he first moves, it seems like he's about to be shoves, and andyr tenses up, so it takes him a second or two to realize, no. jesse's curling up against him instead. it reminds him of adam, and the nightmare he'd woken himself from, a mess of crying and fears and guilt. gradually, andyr's arms come up to encircle him, one around his back, palm rubbing up and down over his spine, and the other cupping the back of his head, hugging him close to his chest, cheek rested on his hair.]

I got you, I'm here. [ and murmurs quietly, stroking over his hair. ] I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you.

[heisenbitch]

[ Jesse vaguely registers, through his distress, that Andyr has tensed up. He's half expecting to be shoved away. Affection is something Andyr reserves for Ronan, for Adam; it's not something Jesse has ever sought from him or asked of him, and Jesse has always been acutely aware of how important Andyr's personal space is. And why wouldn't it be? Jesse doesn't even know a fraction of the things Andyr has endured, but he knows and has witnessed more than enough to understand why invading Andyr's personal space can be perceived as a violation.

But then Andyr's arms are finally folding around Jesse instead. The hand rubbing up and down his back, the other hand cradling Jesse's head... A renewed surge of sobs shake out of him, and Jesse sinks into Andyr's touch and embrace, seeming to try and hide even close against him, like a guy who's utterly starved of affection. Those words Andyr murmurs to him, how gentle he's being - it reminds Jesse of the way Mr. White had let Jesse fall against him into his arms in that filthy, disgusting meth den Jesse had wound up in after Jane died. How Jesse had sobbed while Mr. White had held him close, exactly like this - an arm around him, Mr. White's hand cradling Jesse's head to his chest. In that moment, despite everything, Jesse had felt loved and cherished, even though he hadn't deserved it.

Jesse can't say or do anything for the longest while. His arm slides up underneath Andyr's, winding around to his back, his fingers fisting a tuft of Andyr's shirt in his hand while he clings desperately onto him. All he does is cry against Andyr's chest, sobbing and sobbing, until his sobs begin to wane simply from exhaustion. They slowly dissolve into whimpers, then hitching breath while tears still fall from his eyes, soaking Andyr's shirt. Finally, Jesse falls silent. Huddled in Andyr's arms, still, quiet, utterly hollowed out and drained.

Eventually, Jesse says against Andyr's chest, his voice thick and tired and lifeless from crying: ]

Think I got what I deserved, anyway.

[deconstruct]

[ for all the time that jesse weeps and sobs and shakes against andyr's chest, he holds to him, palm stroking over his back, and quiet "shh"s and "i got you"s murmured against his hair. it aches in him, to hear and see and feel jesse so torn apart, but at the same time, andyr knows that he needs this. the comfort and the safe place to simply break down and let all of this charge through him in an awful torrent. this isn't a place like hapsburg where he'd have to swallow it down or funnel it into something much more viscous, and jesse can have the time, here, to be weak. to be hurt. to regret and fear and hate himself.

in the end, he sounds hollowed out, but, at least, that also means purged, for the time being. he tells andyr he believes he's been given a sentence to serve for this already, and andyr doesn't doubt it. even the agony he's in here alone is painful. that doesn't say anything about what'll happen to him back home as well. ]

I'm sorry. [ andyr mutters to him, a thumb wiping at stray tear tracks again, not paying any mind to what's soaked into his sleep shirt. carefully, he presses a short kiss to jesse's forehead, something innocent and affectionate. almost as if there's a blessing he's trying to bestow with it. but andyr isn't nearly so holy. ]

It's good it's not easy. It isn't supposed to be.

[ not that he's happy jesse's in pain, he isn't. but the fact of it is, that it's part of life, a vital part, that he ought to look at as necessary. ] When it stops hurting, you stop being human.