[ Bariyan looks up and frowns. The boy's arrived in a rather more upset state than he'd expected. He makes his way over, quickly, going down on a knee. ]
Martin? [ Tentatively, he goes to place his hands over Martin's shoulders. ] What's the matter?
[ he'd been irritated, earlier; irritated at martin's network post, at the responses that bariyan had bothered to flick through. but it seems that martin's mood has shifted, once more. and bariyan cannot muster up much anger at this one. ]
Come on, boy. Come out of it. [ but his voice is gentle, and bariyan pulls martin a little further in, almost as if to embrace him. almost. ] Let me see you.
[he shrinks up at the request, the other arm going up to further shield his face. a strangled sound. he'd had a good few minutes of feeling nothing, and that had been pretty great, considering...]
Ss. Srr'h... [wow guess what that was supposed to be.]
[ Bariyan forces his own mind to all but shut off, now. He knows where his thoughts will go if he lets them wander. The VR's woken up too many memories for him and he can't afford to think about them now. ]
Martin. [ He lays his hands against Martin's forearms, gently trying to pry them away. ] It's fine. You're all right. Come here.
I'm sorry! [a little uh. loud, after dropping his arms quickly and stiffening up.] I-I'm sorry, I'm...[shoulders sagging.] I'm sorry...[grimacing hard to try to keep it in. he bows his head.] I'm sorry.
[ Bariyan makes one or two attempts to interrupt, at first, but after the second I'm sorry he shuts up and lets Martin get it out of his system. He waits, after that last one; he keeps waiting. Only after the silence has stretched past the thirty-second mark does he finally reply. ]
All right. [ And then, very carefully, he places a hand over Martin's head. Pulling back his bangs, ruffling his hair. ] It's all right, child. Please. [ Bariyan's eyes are half-shut, sad, his mouth pulled into a puzzled frown. Oh, why.... ]
[he swallows hard, blinking and blinking and then squeezing his eyes shut against the caress. maybe if he was a little bit crazier, he could pretend...
stupid. he swallows again, sucking in and holding a breath and opens his eyes. they wince a little. sorry.]
I understand. [ or at least, bariyan thinks he understands. only stress, surely, overexcitement, disappointment.... his frown remains sad. ] You need to learn to reign that in, though.
[ bariyan nods and stays quiet, taking the moment to observe. try as he might, it's hard to see anything out-of-the-ordinary. martin looks more tired than usual, perhaps. exhausted. who wouldn't be?
i was supposed to send him home, bariyan thinks. he hadn't. now martin only thinks he'd gone home, thinks he'd gone home-- briefly, before having it all ripped away again. no wonder he's irritable. no wonder he's angry. could he be blamed? ]
I'm sorry. I keep... [ sigh. ] I should've.... [ another sigh.
this one accompanied by a slump in bariyan's posture, his own brand of exhaustion finally manifesting itself. bringing his head down against martin's shoulder.
bariyan mumbles something more, but it's incoherent, even to him. ]
[weight on his head and shoulder. nose all full of dead-person stink. it would've made him at least flinch, before. but Martin is tired and upset and just all-around unhappy with life, the universe, and everything...he just wants someone to fix what he's broken and make it better.
a loud breath, holding that one in with a nasally whimper. nrugh. he sags under the weight, hands reaching and snatching blindly until his arms can loop and lock around Bariyan's neck, which makes the drop to his own knees less heavy.]
[ bariyan pulls martin in when the boy drops, a quick, thoughtless motion. one hand clutched at martin's back, the other curled into martin's hair at the back of his neck.
he can't feel it. he can't feel martin's breath, martin's fall, martin's arms wrapped around his shoulders. he can only see what he sees and he sees so little and he can only guess at the rest and he can't feel, shouldn't feel, hasn't felt....
i'm sorry, he says, again, this time in another language, one that comes harder to him except in his despair. i'm failing you, again. once more, always, again. ]
[he lets out his breath in a puff, sagging into the security of the hold. it was never such a rare thing before, but Martin had ruined all that years ago. he'd been so spoiled before then, and even a little after, for how hard Regina had tried to bring him back to who he was.
it's not the same, and never can be, but it's ridiculous how much he needs to be held.
his head droops further and settles against the cold and silent chest, ignoring both. just a couple seconds, he thinks wearily. he'll let go. just a couple seconds.
[ bariyan doesn't keep track of how much time passes. his fingers press tighter into martin's back, the nape of his neck, curling around martin as if he can protect the boy through this one gesture alone. and he loses himself, for a while, mind shutting down entirely once his apologies are made. it's a strange, gratifying sort of numbness. a release, even.
he needs this just as much as martin does.
but he has to let go, eventually; they both do. there are things to be done, things to fix, an entire universe waiting to be dealt with. time starts to unfreeze itself. bariyan's hands drop, returning to martin's shoulders. he pulls himself away. for a brief moment he feels as if he is losing something. then the moment passes.
he lets the silence stay, though, and merely looks at martin as he straightens up. ]
[Martin's fingers cling a little to shirt until they slack and fall, pulled away too far. his head stays ducked down, staring at nothing. it was good and fine for all the time it lasted, but now...
back to reality: a mess. he can't even wrap his head around it; it's already wearing him out. he just wants to sleep and sleep...
his eyes flicker up first, slowly lifting his head.]
[ so. now what? now there were things to sort out. koltira, for one. perhaps a talk with john about martin's health, though bariyan doubted that the information would mean much in his hands. and martin himself.... ]
Mmh. [that's an answer, right...? a reluctant one, anyway. he doesn't want to go back and face Anora right away, but he's too wiped out to put up a fight anymore.]
Then go. I'll talk to you in the morning. [ Bariyan stands again, wincing as he does. ] And take care of yourself, Martin. Please. [ a beat. ] For my sake, at least.
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Martin? [ Tentatively, he goes to place his hands over Martin's shoulders. ] What's the matter?
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his face scrunches up, scrubbed against his forearm harshly while he sucks in a harsh breath.
thickly, muffled:] I don' knowh...
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Come on, boy. Come out of it. [ but his voice is gentle, and bariyan pulls martin a little further in, almost as if to embrace him. almost. ] Let me see you.
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Ss. Srr'h... [wow guess what that was supposed to be.]
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Martin. [ He lays his hands against Martin's forearms, gently trying to pry them away. ] It's fine. You're all right. Come here.
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All right. [ And then, very carefully, he places a hand over Martin's head. Pulling back his bangs, ruffling his hair. ] It's all right, child. Please. [ Bariyan's eyes are half-shut, sad, his mouth pulled into a puzzled frown. Oh, why.... ]
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stupid. he swallows again, sucking in and holding a breath and opens his eyes. they wince a little. sorry.]
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It's been a rough few days for you. [ a guilty sigh. ] And you've found yourself a temper, it seems.
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i was supposed to send him home, bariyan thinks. he hadn't. now martin only thinks he'd gone home, thinks he'd gone home-- briefly, before having it all ripped away again. no wonder he's irritable. no wonder he's angry. could he be blamed? ]
I'm sorry. I keep... [ sigh. ] I should've.... [ another sigh.
this one accompanied by a slump in bariyan's posture, his own brand of exhaustion finally manifesting itself. bringing his head down against martin's shoulder.
bariyan mumbles something more, but it's incoherent, even to him. ]
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a loud breath, holding that one in with a nasally whimper. nrugh. he sags under the weight, hands reaching and snatching blindly until his arms can loop and lock around Bariyan's neck, which makes the drop to his own knees less heavy.]
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he can't feel it. he can't feel martin's breath, martin's fall, martin's arms wrapped around his shoulders. he can only see what he sees and he sees so little and he can only guess at the rest and he can't feel, shouldn't feel, hasn't felt....
i'm sorry, he says, again, this time in another language, one that comes harder to him except in his despair. i'm failing you, again. once more, always, again. ]
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it's not the same, and never can be, but it's ridiculous how much he needs to be held.
his head droops further and settles against the cold and silent chest, ignoring both. just a couple seconds, he thinks wearily. he'll let go. just a couple seconds.
minutes.]
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he needs this just as much as martin does.
but he has to let go, eventually; they both do. there are things to be done, things to fix, an entire universe waiting to be dealt with. time starts to unfreeze itself. bariyan's hands drop, returning to martin's shoulders. he pulls himself away. for a brief moment he feels as if he is losing something. then the moment passes.
he lets the silence stay, though, and merely looks at martin as he straightens up. ]
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back to reality: a mess. he can't even wrap his head around it; it's already wearing him out. he just wants to sleep and sleep...
his eyes flicker up first, slowly lifting his head.]
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How long have you been out? You need to go rest.
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Yes, sir.
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