both_neither (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
both_neither) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalogs2012-10-11 06:50 pm
both_neither) wrote in paradisalogs2012-10-11 06:50 pm
Entry tags:
Who's got my back now
Who: Gren and Vicious
What: Waking up to deal with aftermath of a loss and nightmares all at once.
When: Morning of Tuesday, October 9th
Where: Vicious' room
Rating: PG-13, at least
He woke up like he'd been drowning, sucking in a breath and clawing at the blanket underneath him. He glanced around the room, keeping still and quiet, waiting for the next nightmare to start, for next horror to manifest itself.
Nothing did, but it gave the memory of everything he'd experienced time to creep back into this memory. So much anguish. So much death. Had anything he'd seen been real, and how uncomfortably familiar was the doubt that he couldn't be sure?
Stomach clenching, he picked himself off the floor, glancing backwards only a moment where Vicious was still asleep on the bed.
He'd dreamed of Vicious' betrayal countless times since Titan, but never had it been so real, and it was hard to reconcile that gut churning feeling of fear and despair with the semi-amiable relationship he'd managed to carve out since their mutual arrivals in Paradisa. But what would become of that now that Vicious had seen that he was what dominated Gren's thoughts? That the Vicious in his mind had used Gren's desire for him as a mask for more betrayal?
Worse was the realization, once he'd remembered why he was in Vicious' room instead of his home in the city was because they'd spent over a week thinking they'd been fresh out of the war in Titan. That there'd been no animosity between them and he'd had his normal body back, and he hadn't even been able to properly appreciate that at the time. A quick glance downward confirmed that he was back to his post-prison self.
He choked back the start of a sob, but his pulse was already racing madly with panic. He hadn't cried since prison either. It was a weakness - the kind that Vicious hated - and it drew the attention of the guards. He learned very quickly, especially once his body had started to change, that attention was the last thing he wanted. But there was too much to hold back now.
Gren reached over and turned the shower on, using it to mask the sound of another sob and launched himself under the warm spray in his underclothes, back up against cold tile, trying to focus on nothing but the jolt of feeling. It wasn't enough to stop the tears - the anxiety and anger he'd built up for almost three years bubbling to the surface all at once. Arms wrapped around his abdomen, pulling the wet cloth of his shirt tight around his breasts, and seeing that only sent another jolt of pain through his chest. He sobbed out - harsh, bitter, wracking sounds that echoed more than he meant but didn't have the ability to stop now that he'd started. He beat the wall with his fist and felt his legs, shaking, go out underneath him.
Huddled on the floor he simply tried to hold together, but it hurt. Most of all, maybe, his heart, for the idea that the only man he'd ever cared about never had much use for him beyond betrayal.
What: Waking up to deal with aftermath of a loss and nightmares all at once.
When: Morning of Tuesday, October 9th
Where: Vicious' room
Rating: PG-13, at least
He woke up like he'd been drowning, sucking in a breath and clawing at the blanket underneath him. He glanced around the room, keeping still and quiet, waiting for the next nightmare to start, for next horror to manifest itself.
Nothing did, but it gave the memory of everything he'd experienced time to creep back into this memory. So much anguish. So much death. Had anything he'd seen been real, and how uncomfortably familiar was the doubt that he couldn't be sure?
Stomach clenching, he picked himself off the floor, glancing backwards only a moment where Vicious was still asleep on the bed.
He'd dreamed of Vicious' betrayal countless times since Titan, but never had it been so real, and it was hard to reconcile that gut churning feeling of fear and despair with the semi-amiable relationship he'd managed to carve out since their mutual arrivals in Paradisa. But what would become of that now that Vicious had seen that he was what dominated Gren's thoughts? That the Vicious in his mind had used Gren's desire for him as a mask for more betrayal?
Worse was the realization, once he'd remembered why he was in Vicious' room instead of his home in the city was because they'd spent over a week thinking they'd been fresh out of the war in Titan. That there'd been no animosity between them and he'd had his normal body back, and he hadn't even been able to properly appreciate that at the time. A quick glance downward confirmed that he was back to his post-prison self.
He choked back the start of a sob, but his pulse was already racing madly with panic. He hadn't cried since prison either. It was a weakness - the kind that Vicious hated - and it drew the attention of the guards. He learned very quickly, especially once his body had started to change, that attention was the last thing he wanted. But there was too much to hold back now.
Gren reached over and turned the shower on, using it to mask the sound of another sob and launched himself under the warm spray in his underclothes, back up against cold tile, trying to focus on nothing but the jolt of feeling. It wasn't enough to stop the tears - the anxiety and anger he'd built up for almost three years bubbling to the surface all at once. Arms wrapped around his abdomen, pulling the wet cloth of his shirt tight around his breasts, and seeing that only sent another jolt of pain through his chest. He sobbed out - harsh, bitter, wracking sounds that echoed more than he meant but didn't have the ability to stop now that he'd started. He beat the wall with his fist and felt his legs, shaking, go out underneath him.
Huddled on the floor he simply tried to hold together, but it hurt. Most of all, maybe, his heart, for the idea that the only man he'd ever cared about never had much use for him beyond betrayal.