twocomplex | IC Inbox

From:

[He enters the ship with the soft click of heels and a tight fear in his chest. The messages are still fresh in his mind and they lurk in every step forward they take. He prays he won't see Felix. Hopes this trip is silent but knows it will only be tense, suffocating him the moment he steps onto the bridge.

Every fiber in his being is telling him he shouldn't be here. There were other ways to get what he needed done. Other ships, other pilots. Maybe it was trust that moved him forward. Despite their arguments, their actions, they still existed on a basic plane of understanding. They had both seen the same things. That meant something.

But it doesn't keep it from feeling like a trap when the bridge door slips shut. He stands by it, one hand gripping at his stomach while the other remains folded behind him. Silently, he stares at Oren's back. Fear keeps him at bay, preventing the desire to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. He was in the right here. It's something he has to repeat to himself.

When he finally speaks, it's softly.]

Oren?

From:

twocomplex

[It was already the ninth, and still no word from Mattias. An uncomfortably sick feeling has been twisting and growing in his stomach since their argument, and the time from his drunken calls to now has only made it worse. Mattias has vanished, completely. No answer, no sign of him in any of the casinos or bars he'd happened to wander past. Not in the shops, on the streets, not in his room where he should be.

The hotels he'd visited gave no luck. He was looking in all the wrong places, and he felt more sickened by it every day. He blamed Mattias for this. For whatever was eating at him. The dropping sensation of his stomach, the tense, constant nausea, the flares of anger, the bouts of sadness. It was all Mattias' fault.

But he hears his voice, and the composure that he clings to is a shell of what it usually is. Surprise is written across his face, and the anger that fills his eyes isn't the same as usual.

It reflects the deep concern that's been slowly building in him.

All at once, that sick feeling is ten times stronger, and he's torn between turning him away or hitting him or-- or something a little too fond, he thinks. His eyes dart, searching his face for an answer as he takes just one step closer.]

Where have you been?

From:

noctiphile

[One step closer and he wants to back away but the door behind him hits him like a cage. His throat goes tight, his hands twist further into the fabric, yet still he steels himself. Stands a bit straighter when he answers, though his voice is still as weak as before.]

The station. I—I rented a room there. It's small. Nothing impressive. I needed... I needed to get away.

[A beat.] ... I'm sorry.

From:

twocomplex

[For a long time, he just watches Mattias. Lets him fidget under his gaze as his own thoughts try to straighten themselves. It's not working, and that just makes him more frustrated. He doesn't understand his own concern, his own feelings.]

And was it such a trial to say that ahead of time?

[That's a little softer, but the impact is clear. He makes it sound like it would have been easy. Like he wouldn't have countered it with reasons not to. He turns his back to Mattias, arms folding across his chest.]

Save your apologies for the ones you do care for worrying.

From:

noctiphile

I thought you wouldn't want to hear it. Our last discussion...

[Didn't go so well. His lips thin and part of him dies when Oren turns his back to him. Was he'd done been so bad?]

I didn't mean to worry you. I just thought—I didn't want anyone to contact me. I just wanted to be alone. It was—it was selfish.

[Oren might have been drunk when he had said it but that didn't make it any less right. He looks up sharply, concern seeping from his very being.]

Have you been well? Your call... it made me [frightened, angered] concerned.

From:

twocomplex

[These are all of the wrong things to bring up. He penalizes Mattias for each one. Mentioning the last discussion not going well. Which did he mean? His attempts so coldly rejected or the arguments that he's being blamed for? As if Mattias hasn't done wrong himself.

He was selfish, and so Oren doesn't correct him. He lets it sink into silence as the mistakes continue coming from Mattias' mouth. Concerned? Oh, now he was concerned?]

The speed of your response doesn't speak for concern.

[He pauses, and after some intense glaring at the floor, finally looks back at Mattias from this half-turned away pose.]

I'm fine. [But from the short, curt way he says it, that's doubtful.] Why did you come here now?

[He doesn't say it, but the implications are bleeding through. An apology doesn't take nine days. He wasn't thinking about Oren. This must be something selfish. A need, a desire, a want. Be it for forgiveness or a task-- there must be something there for himself.]

From:

noctiphile

[He wilts, back sagging against the door. His eyes are downcast, never once able to meet Oren's. Where did his courage go? The empowerment? Oren could break it all as if it were straw.]

I... I had a proposition. It's something I'd need your help for. Something mutually beneficial.

[His gaze raises just a bit.] It might help us get back home.

From:

twocomplex

Mutually. Of course.

[His arms drop to his sides, but he doesn't turn back immediately. So he did need help. Funny that he'd show up and claim it mutually beneficial after breaking the news that he's dead.

He does aim to prevent that, but it's a heavy weight on thoughts of return and duties right now.

Frowning, he turns back to Mattias.]

What is it?

you are a disgusting liar

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