contact part deux

[bouchonne]

if this were modern times byerly would probably make you listen to total eclipse of the heart before you were able to leave a message

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[cozen]

Yes.

[ Simple. Catty. His rifling through the cabinets and one-handed wrangling of the kettle is quiet and controlled. ]

Everything had to be just right. You had to know enough to think I was interesting and not like me enough to be frightened of it. You had to be afraid of something else so I could be what you needed. I had to throw myself at you for a year —

[ A little hyperbole, as a treat. ]

Maybe I could make it that way again, but I would have been — what do you call it when you know everything about someone who doesn’t even know who you are, and you use it to make them like you?

[bouchonne]

I - Fuck you.

[ He’s straightening up now, standing tall. His lips are white where they press together. ]

Fuck you, Bastien. Is that what you think of me? That I’m so selfish - and so weak - that I had to need you before I could love you?

[cozen]

[ Byerly's certainly never spoken to him like that before. Fuck you is for saying through a laugh. Bastien's still for a moment, looking at him, the briefest stutter in his little performance before he turns to proceed with his coffee as if it's normal. ]

It isn't about being selfish or weak. It's just how it was.

[bouchonne]

So it’s not even worth trying again.

[ Bitter. Furious. Maker, he feels so furious. ]

Better to leave me than to even try.

[ He feels so, so furious. ]

[cozen]

I didn't leave you. You forgot about me.

[ He puts a cup down loud enough to make a noise. That's practically slamming, from him. ]

And I was in the Gallows. We weren't allowed to leave. I didn't have a sending crystal. And you weren't going to fall for a madman waiting for you at the ferry like a puppy every day. I don't know what you want me to have done.

[bouchonne]

I want you to -

[ By stops. He tries again. ]

I want -

[ What? What can he say that can properly capture his rage? ]

Is this how it’s going to be? If I go mad? Are you just going to leave me?

[ That isn’t angry. It doesn’t come out angry. It comes out afraid. ]

[cozen]

[ That makes Bastien slow down, then stop, then turn to look at Byerly. There's a part of him that would like to say — like he always does — that By's not going to go mad. There's an even larger part that would like to be petty: fuck you, is that what you think of me.

But the largest part of the three loves Byerly too much and knows too well how sincere his fears are to mess around. Not about this. ]

No. Of course not.

[bouchonne]

[ He didn’t expect Bastien to say anything else. But that doesn’t make it true, what he’s said. It doesn’t mean that he’ll really stay when things get bad. It doesn’t… ]

If you’d forgotten me, I wouldn’t have left your side until you took me back. Until you fell for me again. Or until there was truly no hope.

[ The anger is ebbing, replaced by fear. By sorrow. ]

I wouldn’t have left you alone.

[cozen]

You weren't alone.

[ It's a gentler argument, at least, his tone softened by rapid-onset feeling-like-an-asshole disease. He doesn't doubt it, what Byerly is saying. If their positions were reversed Byerly would have needed to be pried off of him, however ineffective a tactic that turned out to be.

Rat Red grows restless in the crook of his arm. He jostles her like a baby and gives her a finger to fight with. ]

You had our friends, and our colleagues, and our dogs, and your sister. You had Benedict in here protecting you from me.

[bouchonne]

I didn’t have you.

[ He closes his eyes for just a moment. He tries not to think about that miserable life that could have been - always waiting in vain for Bastien’s shadow to return. ]

I’m sorry. I am sorry. I know - I know it was terrible. [ It comes out as a plea: ] Tell me that it was terrible.

[ So that he knows he’s still worth sharing pain with. So that he knows that Bastien won’t just give a debonair smile and disappear. ]

[cozen]

[ A debonair smile, no. But there is something closed off in the more serious look Bastien levels at him. That’s a choice — to let him see it. To not lie. He could look broken if he wanted to. He could sound less like he’s obediently reading his line to try to move the scene along: ]

It was terrible.

[ Uncomfortable, now that he’s said it. He looks at Rat Red instead of at Byerly. She’s only now beginning to look less like a puppy, but her tiny face and outsized ears also mean she’ll always look like a puppy. She’s thrilled to be allowed to gnaw on his fingers without reprimand. She’s not going to make him talk about it. ]

But it was only a week, and no one was dead. Worse has happened. Worse will happen again. Do you want some coffee?

[bouchonne]

I'd like a drink.

[ He immediately regrets saying it - using his own weakness like that, like a weapon against Bastien. He shakes his head and runs a hand over his face - ]

Sorry. Coffee, please - Yes.

[ The fury that staved off fear and sorrow has all but fled, leaving Byerly vulnerable to those cold and miserable feelings. ]

I simply know that - This is the sort of thing that would make you unhappy. You, more than most. Am I wrong?

[cozen]

I don’t think any of us had a nice time.

[ Back to the coffee. Someday the rifters will invent a drip coffee maker; until then, it’s all a little involved. But he jerks his head to try to beckon Byerly closer while his hands are too busy to gesture it. ]

And it was very sweet that you — that I was still here for you somehow. It wasn’t like I was never here at all. That would have been worse. [ Sometimes pretending it’s fine makes it actually a little more fine. That would have been worse. It is very sweet that Byerly conjured up a ghost to fill the space he left behind. He can talk his way into not being wounded at all with enough time to do it. ] And I think you still thought I was handsome. Letting me stay like that. What a sucker.

[ Teasing, again, though it’s a little more grim than before. ]

[bouchonne]

[ He lets himself be cajoled into offering a smile. It's a bit on the lugubrious side, but it's not insincere. ]

I wouldn't be the first person who was swayed from cruelty after seeing your cheekbones.

[ He does come closer. Eases his way towards the kitchen. ]

It's just - You know. With your parents. Being left behind. I can't help but imagine that it chewed on some gristle of grief.

[cozen]

Ehh.

[ Yes. No. Yes. ]

They didn’t forget about me. They were looking for me, and I tried to call the bluff when I shouldn’t have.

[ Whatever crumbling he’s done before while Byerly held onto him in the dark, in the daylight, making coffee, he’d still rather it be his fault. His choice. He leaves first — that’s the rule. And if that’s separately relevant to the argument he is trying to avoid here, shut up, no it’s not.

When Byerly’s close enough he kisses Rat Red on the head and puts her down so he has an arm to cinch around Byerly’s waist instead. ]

And, [ new and better subject, ] I don’t think you are selfish or weak. I think we both have big stupid walls and we needed the cracks to align just right for this to happen. That’s all.

[bouchonne]

I think -

[ The romantic burbling up from within him as he relaxes into Bastien's touch - ]

That I would never not fall in love with you. Not as I am now, and not as you are now.

[cozen]

Sap.

[ That's what he says. What he does is tuck and turn his head into Byerly's shoulder, eyes shut while there's nothing left to do about coffee until the water boils. He's not sure he believes it. He's not sure he can trust this to last forever. But he has it now.

After a moment — ]

It would have been different if you were the only one who didn't remember.

[bouchonne]

Yeah?

[ His hand comes up to scratch slowly and regularly at Bastien’s scalp. He supposes he ought to kiss him. Do something passionate. But what he wants is this comfort. ]

How so?

[cozen]

[ His shrug is small and careful not to jostle or interrupt. ]

I would have had help. If you remembered anyone else they could tell you to believe me. If you didn't they could tell me I wasn't making it all up. I would still have all the other parts of my life.

I am not going to leave you if you start to forget things when we're old.

[bouchonne]

Mm.

[ Is that the truth? Maker, Byerly doesn’t want to die alone, when the time comes. He wants to have someone by his side. He wants that someone to be Bastien. ]

I know it’s not fair of me. To stand in judgment over you, when you were forced into this circumstance without warning.

[cozen]

[ That's right. These things happen and Byerly is dead, or Byerly doesn't remember, and in any case Byerly doesn't have to actually deal with any of it. By the time he knows what's happened it's over, like he slept through a fire, and there's only some cleaning up to do.

But that's wrong, too. Byerly has the right to judge. He has the right to want certainty when he needs it most, when things are hard instead of easy. What's the point of all of this — the house, the routines, the promises — if Bastien can't give that to him?

At the end of those clear thoughts there's something wordless. An inarticulable morass of feeling stunted and cracked. Bastien exhales through it, hot breath warming his own face when it's caught against Byerly's shoulder. ]

I don't know how to be better at this.

[bouchonne]

[ He doesn't quite follow the thought. He should, of course; how many times has he himself discussed his ability to do this or cope with everything, the vague words substituting in for the things too vulnerable to name? But Bastien is good at this. He's kind and warm and steady. The moments when things have been bad - all of this, the fight over the dogs - have been so few and far between, and only in extremity. So this can't possibly apply to their relationship. ]

Dealing with magic?

[ The water is boiling; Byerly takes over the next steps of making coffee, not wanting to turn Bastien's face away from him. ]

[cozen]

[ A huff. ]

That too.

[ Bastien does turn his head, but only far enough to watch Byerly work from the very corner of his nearest eye. Pretty hands. ]

But also not — [ what, what is it he keeps doing ] — pulling away. Running away.

[bouchonne]

[ Just a few minutes before, By had been furious with him for doing just that; now he defends him from his own self-recrimination. ]

Says the man who’s been faithful and steadfast for years now. And not just to me. To this motley band of fools, too.

[cozen]

By.

[ Come on.

But it’s kind of him, too, so however weary and chiding Bastien’s tone may be, his arm is squeezing tighter around his waist. ]