He's still and solemn, but he doesn't look away. There were things he thought of saying, when Quentin asked what are you the day before -
"I know. That. Some of my instincts are wrong. I know some of them were - necessary, at home, and are unnecessary here, and that some of them are just bad. I don't always know - when things are bad, or how bad they are, comparatively. And I know there are harmless things that cripple me. Maybe the strongest instinct is not to talk about those, because then you're just giving people weapons. I don't think -"
No. No, that's not fair. He grits his teeth, finally looks away.
"I know you don't want to hurt me. But it's still hard. I know I have to change, just, to get out of here, I have to be better, but it's hard when I don't even know - which instinct I'm supposed to be fighting."
"Of course I'm not going to try to hurt you. But this stuff is intense; we have to tread carefully, and we have to talk to each other."
He agrees, sitting back up, chin near Jedao's knee now, watching his expression for a moment, then twisting, pulling at his back a bit, trying to get a kink out. Too much tension.
"Me and you, you and Fives, me and Fives. So in your own words, what do you think has happened, the last couple of days?"
Jedao cannot remember appending of course to such a sentiment in his life. Perhaps he might have, when he was a child - about his sister, if not his brother. But if it happened, he does not remember it.
"There's some - concurrent. Things. The flood was bad, for all of us. And I."
He puts the cup down, carefully, on the floor, so he can bury his face in his hands. What has he done. What is he supposed to do. Part of him still hates to - put this on Quentin, but he asked for it. So he should get it. A proper fucking briefing, general.
"He wants to fuck me. And I can't. Because we're going to war together, he's going to be my soldier, and if I - it's - it reminds me of. A bad thing. But I want him all the time, and James said it wasn't wrong, and he said it wasn't wrong, he said he knew he could say no and I tried. I tried to - undermine. That instinct. And in the flood, he was - so sad, and so lonely, and he wasn't under my command. And I slept with that one, because - it was a little closer. And if I could almost with him, and it was fine, then next time, with him, might be easier. And it was."
He swallows, hard.
"But all of that was a mistake. I shouldn't have -" his voice cracks, a little. Fuck. Fuck. How is Jedao supposed to bear it, putting any of that distance back between them, how is he supposed to bear losing the hope that's been driving him - except he has to, because it's been driving him to this.
"When I was the other me instead of me, I was - even more broken, I think. And - more crystallized that way. I had someone who stopped torturing me and made me love them and I was a very good attack dog but it still wasn't enough. And I went looking for you after, just to check, but we were both - hungry. And you wanted, I think? Just. You wanted to know you weren't hurting either of us. Right? And Fives isn't jealous, but he doesn't - he doesn't believe me, how badly I need him. He doesn't value himself at all. And I don't know how to explain it, and I hate admitting it, that I'll never love him enough that he, he knows it like he deserves. And the way he saw it, he didn't want to fail at getting your approval, or - saying the right thing, to give me what I wanted. Because I sent him on a very simple mission, didn't I? He says it's different for us, but it isn't really. He's my soldier and he wanted to do it right for me even though he was miserable, and I should never have let myself. And then - you told me, and I realized, and now I don't. I don't know how to go back, and I don't know how to go forward. And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, I didn't mean to drag you into this or - be like this. But you asked."
He isn't crying again, although he drew his knees back up, and his voice is thick by the end. It started as a report, he thinks, dazed, the more his brain catches up to his awful vomitous mouth, to the way he's opened himself up and exposed something rotten, sickly-sweet and soft and wriggling with maggots.
He almost can't follow this- has to stop listening to specifics and start listening to sentiments. Closeness, protectiveness, trauma, memory, loss. Intimacy, fear, self-worth, doubt, sorrow.
"You and I found each other at a very lonely moment, and an attraction sparked into- a beautiful little window. A day as fragile and contained as a soap bubble. I had an absolutely perfect time with you, and no matter what happens I'll remember it for the rest of my life. But of course it's complicated and kind of jarring to reconcile all that with the responsibilities and realities of the real world out there."
He draws in a breath, lets it out, and scrubs a hand through here.
"Look- you're leaving here with him, and not with me. Every choice you make needs to lead you towards that outcome. I do happen to think that we could be good for each other, but if that comes at the cost of his insecurity and uncertainty, the fact of the matter is it just isn't worth it. You shouldn't even roll the dice on hurting his feelings on my account."
So, where does that leave them?
"So, if he's ever in a good enough place in a couple of months, after the flood trauma has passed, where he's assured enough, then yeah, let's talk. But- not even a dice roll. Not because he failed, obviously, but because he has the right to have that kind of say, and to have his needs met. Even if he's not in a place to set the boundary himself. And I actually think you and I are on the same page about this, and no hard feelings, believe me. This is okay, Jedao."
"I wouldn't," he says, that part is simple. Priorities. He looks at Quentin with wide eyes, now. "You are - so. Delightful, Quentin, being around you makes me. Feel delight, and until the other day I didn't even notice you could be. So good, too. But I wouldn't have ever even taken the chance it could hurt him, not if I'd let myself realize that's what I was doing."
He looks at his hands now. Priorities. Cruelty.
"The problem is that I have to hurt him anyway. I can't ever be a - safe - lover for him. Not with all the other ways we are to each other. He thinks I don't have unfair power over him, because he's a warden and he could benchpress me if I tried to abuse my, my so-called rank. But he can't even say he's uncomfortable with you, without panicking. We have to break up. And I don't know how to do it without breaking both of us. But that's. That's not the kind of problem with a no-casualty solution. And it's also not yours."
And sometimes you just have to soldier on. He takes a deep breath.
"I hope we can still talk. Thank you, for your kindness. And the tea."
"Thanks." He says, and if his eyes prickle a little bit, well, maybe Jedao will be nice enough to pretend he doesn't notice. "Of course we can still talk."
They've still got a little bit more to get through today.
"I wouldn't break up with him yet. I don't know him well enough to know how you'd do this, but I think you should eventually share your thinking about this with him. You're too sharp edged to ever be one hundred percent safe for him, but you'd sure as hell sacrifice for him, and do a lot to protect him, and he probably deserves to know you'd choose him over me every time. I mean- not me specifically, but like, anyone. It's touching, to feel someone value you that way."
Which, as he says it out loud, as it really starts to sink in, starts to just ache, to hurt, but sometimes doing the right thing isn't supposed to be easy. He picks himself stiffly up off the floor, to try to cover that up a little, and comes to collect his teacup from him.
"Try that, before you say goodbye. Just- be trustworthy, put him first, give him a chance to know it? If nothing else, as a favour to me, do it so I don't have to live knowing that I--"
Jedao is on his feet, then, almost as quickly as when he pulled away from Quentin before, only this time, it's Jedao catching him up in a close, tight hug.
"You deserve so much, darling. So much more than this mess. However - however this has to fall out. You've done us nothing but good, being gentle with me. As a favor to you. I promise."
And now - he has to figure out how to do that. But it feels as slim and strong as the revenant's chain on his uniform. No qualifiers, no I'll try. It will hold him. Which - maybe, with a treacherous tiny spark of wishfulness, might have been why he gave it.
He hides his face in Jedao's hair, breathes in, and lets himself be comforted for a couple of long seconds. He's really amazing, and Quentin would have-
Well. Doesn't matter now.
"I'd also like some acknowledgement that I was dead right and not crazy when I basically levitated off you the other day, please?" This is wry, teasing. Called that one in the air. "And I reserve the right to remind you of it in order to get you to trust my judgement for at least the next foreseeable future."
"You're probably the sanest person I know," Jedao concedes, smiling back in the same wry register. "I'll make you a plaque or something. You can wave it at me when I need aiming."
"But you're going to be okay. This is actually a good step. You wouldn't have known he'd felt this precarious, if this hadn't happened, and now you do, and you can help him."
He says, and pulls back to go get it for him, bring it over.
"It probably... isn't appropriate to ask you what he says in response. But maybe make sure he knows I was trying to do the right thing. Apparently I, uh, work for him?" Who fucking knew. "And I really like maintenance."
He gets his gun from the dresser at the same time, secrets it away under the uniform, then takes the book, holds on maybe just a little too tightly.
"Do you actually want to know? Irrespective of whether it's appropriate? Because it would probably be good for me to be able to tell you, but I feel like it might be bad for you."
"If you don't tell me, my imagination'll get me into knots. So- yeah, please. Unless he's like, planning to actively murder me, in which case I would honest rather not see it coming."
"I'll keep you read in, then. And I won't let him murder you."
Jedao thinks it is much, much more likely that Fives will blame himself somehow or other, but he also has no idea how disastrously this is going to go; but that much he can promise.
There's a relieved rush of air when Quentin says he has someone else he'll go to, that Jedao isn't taking his kindness and leaving him to deal with the detritus alone. He knows it can't be him, and maybe Quentin won't, but - Jedao chooses to believe him, that he will, that he can as much as he needs to.
He wants - to kiss Quentin on the forehead, maybe, some small but poignant affection; he thinks maybe that would be worse for both of them. He wants to tug one of his gloves off, squeeze Quentin's hand with his palm bare just once. He does the gesture without taking off the glove; simple pressure, connection, reluctance, none of the esoteric erotic weight it would have otherwise.
"I hope your friend half as good to you as you've been to me. And I hope you call me if - whenever it would be more pleasant than painful. Goodbye for now, Quentin-shei."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"I know. That. Some of my instincts are wrong. I know some of them were - necessary, at home, and are unnecessary here, and that some of them are just bad. I don't always know - when things are bad, or how bad they are, comparatively. And I know there are harmless things that cripple me. Maybe the strongest instinct is not to talk about those, because then you're just giving people weapons. I don't think -"
No. No, that's not fair. He grits his teeth, finally looks away.
"I know you don't want to hurt me. But it's still hard. I know I have to change, just, to get out of here, I have to be better, but it's hard when I don't even know - which instinct I'm supposed to be fighting."
no subject
He agrees, sitting back up, chin near Jedao's knee now, watching his expression for a moment, then twisting, pulling at his back a bit, trying to get a kink out. Too much tension.
"Me and you, you and Fives, me and Fives. So in your own words, what do you think has happened, the last couple of days?"
no subject
"There's some - concurrent. Things. The flood was bad, for all of us. And I."
He puts the cup down, carefully, on the floor, so he can bury his face in his hands. What has he done. What is he supposed to do. Part of him still hates to - put this on Quentin, but he asked for it. So he should get it. A proper fucking briefing, general.
"He wants to fuck me. And I can't. Because we're going to war together, he's going to be my soldier, and if I - it's - it reminds me of. A bad thing. But I want him all the time, and James said it wasn't wrong, and he said it wasn't wrong, he said he knew he could say no and I tried. I tried to - undermine. That instinct. And in the flood, he was - so sad, and so lonely, and he wasn't under my command. And I slept with that one, because - it was a little closer. And if I could almost with him, and it was fine, then next time, with him, might be easier. And it was."
He swallows, hard.
"But all of that was a mistake. I shouldn't have -" his voice cracks, a little. Fuck. Fuck. How is Jedao supposed to bear it, putting any of that distance back between them, how is he supposed to bear losing the hope that's been driving him - except he has to, because it's been driving him to this.
"When I was the other me instead of me, I was - even more broken, I think. And - more crystallized that way. I had someone who stopped torturing me and made me love them and I was a very good attack dog but it still wasn't enough. And I went looking for you after, just to check, but we were both - hungry. And you wanted, I think? Just. You wanted to know you weren't hurting either of us. Right? And Fives isn't jealous, but he doesn't - he doesn't believe me, how badly I need him. He doesn't value himself at all. And I don't know how to explain it, and I hate admitting it, that I'll never love him enough that he, he knows it like he deserves. And the way he saw it, he didn't want to fail at getting your approval, or - saying the right thing, to give me what I wanted. Because I sent him on a very simple mission, didn't I? He says it's different for us, but it isn't really. He's my soldier and he wanted to do it right for me even though he was miserable, and I should never have let myself. And then - you told me, and I realized, and now I don't. I don't know how to go back, and I don't know how to go forward. And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, I didn't mean to drag you into this or - be like this. But you asked."
He isn't crying again, although he drew his knees back up, and his voice is thick by the end. It started as a report, he thinks, dazed, the more his brain catches up to his awful vomitous mouth, to the way he's opened himself up and exposed something rotten, sickly-sweet and soft and wriggling with maggots.
no subject
"You and I found each other at a very lonely moment, and an attraction sparked into- a beautiful little window. A day as fragile and contained as a soap bubble. I had an absolutely perfect time with you, and no matter what happens I'll remember it for the rest of my life. But of course it's complicated and kind of jarring to reconcile all that with the responsibilities and realities of the real world out there."
He draws in a breath, lets it out, and scrubs a hand through here.
"Look- you're leaving here with him, and not with me. Every choice you make needs to lead you towards that outcome. I do happen to think that we could be good for each other, but if that comes at the cost of his insecurity and uncertainty, the fact of the matter is it just isn't worth it. You shouldn't even roll the dice on hurting his feelings on my account."
So, where does that leave them?
"So, if he's ever in a good enough place in a couple of months, after the flood trauma has passed, where he's assured enough, then yeah, let's talk. But- not even a dice roll. Not because he failed, obviously, but because he has the right to have that kind of say, and to have his needs met. Even if he's not in a place to set the boundary himself. And I actually think you and I are on the same page about this, and no hard feelings, believe me. This is okay, Jedao."
no subject
He looks at his hands now. Priorities. Cruelty.
"The problem is that I have to hurt him anyway. I can't ever be a - safe - lover for him. Not with all the other ways we are to each other. He thinks I don't have unfair power over him, because he's a warden and he could benchpress me if I tried to abuse my, my so-called rank. But he can't even say he's uncomfortable with you, without panicking. We have to break up. And I don't know how to do it without breaking both of us. But that's. That's not the kind of problem with a no-casualty solution. And it's also not yours."
And sometimes you just have to soldier on. He takes a deep breath.
"I hope we can still talk. Thank you, for your kindness. And the tea."
no subject
They've still got a little bit more to get through today.
"I wouldn't break up with him yet. I don't know him well enough to know how you'd do this, but I think you should eventually share your thinking about this with him. You're too sharp edged to ever be one hundred percent safe for him, but you'd sure as hell sacrifice for him, and do a lot to protect him, and he probably deserves to know you'd choose him over me every time. I mean- not me specifically, but like, anyone. It's touching, to feel someone value you that way."
Which, as he says it out loud, as it really starts to sink in, starts to just ache, to hurt, but sometimes doing the right thing isn't supposed to be easy. He picks himself stiffly up off the floor, to try to cover that up a little, and comes to collect his teacup from him.
"Try that, before you say goodbye. Just- be trustworthy, put him first, give him a chance to know it? If nothing else, as a favour to me, do it so I don't have to live knowing that I--"
no subject
"You deserve so much, darling. So much more than this mess. However - however this has to fall out. You've done us nothing but good, being gentle with me. As a favor to you. I promise."
And now - he has to figure out how to do that. But it feels as slim and strong as the revenant's chain on his uniform. No qualifiers, no I'll try. It will hold him. Which - maybe, with a treacherous tiny spark of wishfulness, might have been why he gave it.
no subject
Well. Doesn't matter now.
"I'd also like some acknowledgement that I was dead right and not crazy when I basically levitated off you the other day, please?" This is wry, teasing. Called that one in the air. "And I reserve the right to remind you of it in order to get you to trust my judgement for at least the next foreseeable future."
no subject
no subject
He says, into his hair.
"But you're going to be okay. This is actually a good step. You wouldn't have known he'd felt this precarious, if this hadn't happened, and now you do, and you can help him."
no subject
He didn't want to know this, and he needed to. Fuck, it still hurts. Fuck. But it's true. It's even part of what he meant -
"Nothing but good, Quentin Coldwater." And then, after a beat - "Do I still get my book?"
no subject
He says, and pulls back to go get it for him, bring it over.
"It probably... isn't appropriate to ask you what he says in response. But maybe make sure he knows I was trying to do the right thing. Apparently I, uh, work for him?" Who fucking knew. "And I really like maintenance."
no subject
"Do you actually want to know? Irrespective of whether it's appropriate? Because it would probably be good for me to be able to tell you, but I feel like it might be bad for you."
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He admits, face falling a little.
"If you don't tell me, my imagination'll get me into knots. So- yeah, please. Unless he's like, planning to actively murder me, in which case I would honest rather not see it coming."
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Jedao thinks it is much, much more likely that Fives will blame himself somehow or other, but he also has no idea how disastrously this is going to go; but that much he can promise.
no subject
But it's time for Quentin to do some recovering, and that part has to be alone- or at least, Jedao-free.
no subject
He wants - to kiss Quentin on the forehead, maybe, some small but poignant affection; he thinks maybe that would be worse for both of them. He wants to tug one of his gloves off, squeeze Quentin's hand with his palm bare just once. He does the gesture without taking off the glove; simple pressure, connection, reluctance, none of the esoteric erotic weight it would have otherwise.
"I hope your friend half as good to you as you've been to me. And I hope you call me if - whenever it would be more pleasant than painful. Goodbye for now, Quentin-shei."
And he heads for the door.