twocomplex | IC Contact

oh

[Talk about pointing out the obvious. There's a short pause in between replies, almost as if Beatrice is taking a moment to curse herself for forgetting a key part of Wirt's personality. ]

there's no likely about it he's definitely doing that

Do you suppose he's wondering things like, "are these truly dates if she hasn't used the word date?"

of course he is

criminy

what a moron

[Pot, kettle, dumb teenager.]

Come now, it all works out in the end. If it's too personal to speak face to face, I find these devices are rather useful at cutting it down.

Really, it's easy to forget the anxieties of a partner while dealing with your own. Just so you know.

I should ask him in person so he doesn't think I've left the house for good again

look I don't know how anxious your partners [Mattias. Totally Mattias. She definitely means Mattias.] have been but his anxieties are impossible to miss

also he's not my partner that sounds weird

[BEATRICE.......]

Boyfriend, then? I'm sure the two of you will conquer this together.

no that's weirder

that's much weirder go back to partner

I'm afraid it's too late. Your fate is sealed.

Do have fun now.

This [he gestures towards the table] isn't how you speak to people you care about, Ryan! This is how we talk. This is—[His arms fall, gaze dancing on the tile floor, looking for an answer]—ours.

How can—how can the three of us speak of anything like this? With this? [His breathing is shallow, his gut flipping. Oren has been forgotten, his words aligning with his own and that's all Mattias needs. Confirmation.

Mattias' brows furrow and his hands search with his mouth for words.] What are you trying to say?

[There's one chair too many at the table. It taunts him and tells him that he's not enough.]

[Oren's rejection of the entire setup isn't unexpected, not with what he's said before-- but it's also not what he assumed it would be. Ryan's brow furrows into a worried frown with Oren's words, with the looks he's being given-

-and his expression falls completely for a moment at Mattias's reaction, almost startled by it. Ryan has barely even started to try, and already Mattias is taking it worse than he'd imagined.]

I-

[Searching Oren's face doesn't help, and Ryan meets his eyes with a helpless look. What else is there to do but keep going, now that he thinks Mattias sees what's going on?]

It's still ours, Mattias, it is, but I-- I know I'm not the only one you want. You've both confessed to it. [There's hesitance in his voice and eyes both, ear fins fluttering in distress.] But neither of you will talk about it and I- shit, I don't know. I don't know why, or what to think, alright?

[It all tumbles from his mouth in a rush, like he's pulled the cork on whatever bottle he's tried hard to keep those thoughts in, and though he's well aware that there's no undoing it Ryan still has to fight the immediate urge to try. To say he didn't mean it, anything. Instead, he swallows hard and forces himself to look at Mattias.]

...I don't know how else to talk about it.

[He wants to disappear. A couple steps back will remove him from the room, but to think that it would cure the chaos already within it was naive. He stares as the world cracks around him once more with the worry and hurt in Mattias' gestures, the sight of only his back, his pleading to Ryan.

I know I'm not the only one you want. You've both confessed to it.

His head snaps back to Ryan and his gut sinks. He's left reeling through the end of Ryan's words, but he can't bear to wait and see how Mattias responds to that.]

What kind of insecurity must you hold to address these things you've no idea about?!

[His arm swings out, and he presses past Mattias to gesture angrily at Ryan. His voice raises slowly, shaking in its intensity.]

Have you never considered reason for our lack of speech? For his insistence despite all else? Look what you've done! How is he to trust a man who can't trust him in return?

You were— [He pulls back, pressing a hand to his face and smearing down it as he turns around.] You were meant to be that for him!

[Trust. He was supposed to be someone Mattias could trust. It was the only good thing he could see, that he could convince himself with— trust, now broken!]

[Ryan's words are timed by the sinking of Mattias' shoulders. Ryan bumbles on, too lost in his anxiety to notice the weight of his truths. It was one thing for Mattias to suspect it—between Oren's fond smiles and doting touches, it was hard to ignore. Yet hearing it spoken only solidified it into something true and real. Something that proved itself in the way Oren rushed to his aid, shouting all the things he thinks he would have said if his tongue could move, if his mouth would obey him. Instead he looks on, crestfallen and claustrophobic in a room with one chair more.

For a moment, while Oren shouts in slowed time, Mattias thinks of what he did wrong. There were so many threads, so many moments of silence he should have disrupted and so many words he should have smothered with silence. It was a mistake to be truthful with Ryan. His relationship with Oren had been extraneous. Or maybe he should have simply told him more. Would the reason for their separation convince him?

And what had he done that Ryan needed convincing at all?

Throat thick, he meets Ryan's eyes. Oren has stopped shouting and Mattias' soft voice cuts through the last words left hanging in the air.]

He stabbed me. Back home. That's why it's done. That's why... [His throat becomes too thick. His fingers wander for something to hold onto and, despite his best efforts otherwise, his gaze lands on Oren.]

I'm... I'm sorry. [For what? The question suffocates him. The air feels tight. His skin pricks. The room is constricting and his lungs don't have the space to breathe. He doesn't want to feel their eyes on him. He doesn't want to be in the center of this, doesn't want to hurt either one or be hurt by them.

He's out the door before he even realizes, rushing through the church in fear of what he's left behind.]

[Those accusations are a slap in the face, leaving him wide-eyed and frozen; his expression shifts gradually, mouth set into a thinner line as more focus returns to him, and he distantly realizes his hands are shaking. Everything is.]

What...

[His voice dies in his throat when Mattias's eyes meet his, heart sinking, and that admission may as well be a stab itself. He thinks the same way Oren does, then, if Mattias didn't have enough trust to tell him something that important. And if he doesn't trust Ryan he must think Ryan doesn't either, right?

One moment he's about to object, then the next he's staring at Mattias's back, watching him leave. Mattias won't even let him try to explain--

He's shaking as he turns to Oren, ear fins flared out completely, and he can't tell if it's from panic, fear, or anger.]

That's not what- why would you--

[It's choked off with a shake of his head as he turns to run after Mattias, stumbling over his own webbed feet at first. That can come later. Right now, he has to fix this, and he sounds almost frantic as he shouts after Mattias.]

Wait! Mattias, wait, he's wrong, please-

[The shout echoes behind him and are followed by the wet slap of Ryan's feet. The logical part of him knows Ryan can't outrun him and he can already imagine Ryan hunched over and panting. But it doesn't matter. No logic is listened to, no rationality heeded as Mattias plows through the church. His hips smack pews, his arms bump columns and a wealth of bruises blossom unrecognized on his skin. It doesn't matter. None of it matters so long as those footsteps grow distant and his two men drift away.

They'll ask him to make a choice, me or him, and he would have to choose. Oren would feel abandoned. He would change, become a shell of his former self–the man Mattias had fallen in love with all those months ago. Ryan would feel betrayed, maybe proven right. He had estimated unfaithfulness and what would selecting Oren do other than prove him right?

It's not something he wants to face. It's not something he ever wants to face and yet each wet footstep upon the stone brought it closer. Escape was mandatory. To where, he didn't know. The answer would come so long as it came far away from this and its everything.

The door opens as he slams his shoulder into it and Mattias stumbles into the late morning sun. The air floods his lungs and he can breathe again. His feet start to move; he begins his run anew. The air rushes by as his body shifts and cracks, remolding into the shape of a stallion. Four legs move faster than one and he uses them to run as far as he can.]

[He knows chasing Mattias is pointless-- but that doesn't stop Ryan from being gone for at least a few hours, returning home damp and exhausted. The water helped, but he's slowly drying, and after the exertion...

No, on second thought, he realizes he's worked up a bit of an appetite. He's still hydrated enough, but even so, curling up in the bathtub generally still helps him feel better.

It's much easier to avoid all of this if he just curls up under the surface, just to rest a little longer, and it doesn't take him long to give in to temptation and spend some quality sulking time in the bathroom.]

[The two had left him and he'd done nothing about it aside from move a chair and his place on the off chance that they'd return. Perhaps it could fix things, he'd thought, and left for the night. It hadn't fixed anything, of course.

When morning comes with no sign of Mattias, Oren doesn't wait for bad news to come. He dresses himself and heads out just in time for the end of Ryan's bath, knocking urgently on the door until it's cracked open. He shoves right in past him, eyes scanning the room.]

Where is he? Have you not found him yet?

[Perhaps his tone is a little too accusatory for his normal levels of composure, but he's still a little irritated that Ryan couldn't take his word on the handling of things. He walks around the church, looking around for clues of Mattias' presence.

Nothing.]

He's likely lost out there.

[When Oren shoves past him, Ryan hopes-- just for a moment-- that it's not what he thinks it is. That maybe Mattias had at least gone to him. He expects the answer that he gets, knows anything else was unlikely... but it still makes his fins droop for a moment.

-until Oren's words hit him, and they flare out as Ryan walks after him.]

You think I didn't try? I wasn't just sitting around all fucking day, I don't know what kind of person you think I--

[How is he to trust a man who can't trust him in return? That echoes right back through his mind, and Ryan cuts himself off.]

No. I do. And he's not here, so if you don't think I can be trusted to look for him either, you can keep going.

[His steps slow as Ryan begins an onslaught of pointed words. Oren laughs, bitter and quiet as he looks to the floor. Mattias hasn't been here. He'd known that the moment he woke up to silence. He'd promised he wouldn't leave him again, so there was that, but... Where had he gone?

As he fidgets with the end of his coat, he speaks.]

It takes so little for you to view yourself the victim. Were you not the one who left me without a word?

[Intention or not, it didn't matter. But before Ryan can respond to that, Oren raises his hand and waves it off.] It matters not. You must realize that the words I spoke were Mattias' thoughts from the moment you pressed forward with this.

My hesitation wasn't purely selfish.

[For once he wasn't being purely selfish. He drops the corner of his coat and turns, looking to Ryan.]

Tell me, do you still remember the way he ran?

[It's well-aimed, and while Oren doesn't leave him room for a response, his fins still twitch, face falling slightly as his eyes flick off to the side. It takes him a few moments to respond when Oren's finished speaking, and he's still not quite looking at him.]

You could've let me explain.

[Quieter than he means it to be. Ryan huffs out a breath and raises his voice, gesturing in the right direction.]

There. [It seems as if he's done, for a moment, but he abruptly speaks up again.] You were wrong, you know. I didn't mean anything like that. If you hadn't just started accusing me of shit--

[Ryan's laptop chirps (or whatever they do) with a new message. It's from Mattias.]

>are you there?

>i don't know where i am or
>or how to get back

[The chime interrupts on cue, and Oren's left watching his own fingers curl into his palm. He's thinking, worrying about Mattias, wondering how far he'd ran in that direction. Until he decided he was far enough away, most likely. A straight line, he bets, until he could see nothing anymore.]

Intention and explanation means little to a man set on his own irrationality.

[He rolls one of his shoulders in a shrug, gesturing weakly at the chiming laptop as he takes a step back.]

Is it him?

[Ryan rushes to the laptop as soon as he hears that notification, everything else forgotten and pushed aside as he opens up that message... stares at it for a moment-

-and breaks into helpless laughter, dropping his head down onto his folded arms as he shakes with it. It isn't funny, but he can't stop it; he's been wound tight ever since that conversation began yesterday, and it releases some of that tension with every gasping breath.]

F-fuck. Fuck, I'm- I'm not- it isn't...

[Ryan rubs at his face with his sleeve, wiping his watery eyes as he looks up at Oren. He's still trying to get it to stop, and he shoves the laptop in Oren's direction. Reply for him, he means-- he's too shaky to type.]

Yeah. Yeah, it's... he's lost. Doesn't know where he is either. This is just-- such a fucking mess, Oren.

[And it's his own fault.]

[At least Ryan can manage some laughter. Oren isn't aggressive or rude when he moves to take the laptop, but he is decisively quiet as he thinks on how to answer. As himself? For the both of them? As Ryan?

His fingers tap on the keys without pressing down as he lets out a short laugh.]

Did you expect him to know where he ran off to? Of course he's lost.

>I'm here.
>Stay there, and I'll come find you. You headed straight the whole way, didn't you?

It's... strange to admit, but I may have an idea of how to find him.

>i don't know
>i think so? there's just trees around here
>i'll stay

...strange how?

[He raises a brow at Oren, but doesn't wait for a reply before he reaches for his laptop. Now that he's breathing a little easier, he can answer his own messages, it's fine-- though he does squint at the one Oren's sent for a moment. Just "I", not "we"?

...well, he'll stick with it.]

It'll be okay. Just wait, alright? I'll be there soon as I can.

IC Contact

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

ah-huh

no subject

no subject

no subject

how do these always turn into text walls ugh

emotions also crap tag

no this is, I'm not retyping the whole thing

I'm so sorry for your loss teej rip that tag

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, COIN PRINCE. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 097.26.245.13 * Coin Prince has joined 097.26.245.13 <Coin Prince> And how secure is this communication, really? <Coin Prince>** Well, go on then, let's speak.