✧ — THE CRUEL NORTH SEA

dennis  knows  he  is  acting  like  a  dog  eager  to  return  to  its  master's  heel.  he  does  not  care  that  her  heel  is  far  from  his  place  to  sit.  does  not  care  that  he  does  not  know  her,  and  that  she  does  not  know  him  in  turn.  it  is  enough  to  know  in  his  heart  that  she  is  kind      ;      just  that  it  is  enough  to  even  imagine  having  a  proper  place  in  this  world.

he  is  lost,  just  like  she  is,  because  she  is  from  a  variety  of  places.  the  omens  do  not  waver  when  she  says  it,  so  she  does  not  lie  to  him.  ❝  do  you  want  to  share  one  ?  a  cake,  i  mean  .  .  .  well  a  slice,  not  an  entire  cake.  ❞  not  once  this  entire  conversation  have  his  eyes  strayed  from  her  features.  he  keeps  his  gaze  fixated  on  her,  and  her  goodness.  too  afraid  of  seeing  it  slip  away  from  his  grasp  to  the  point  where  he  could  never  have  it  again  so  close  to  him.  ❝  i'll  pay.  i  have  to  repay  you  for  this  conversation.  ❞

It's bad again. Another one of those nights where Silver wishes to fucking God that he hadn't survived himself. Better yet, that he had never been put on this earth, in a world that has never been a particular fan of him. Why else would it pick on him so grotesquely? Mark his skin and heart with scars that just don't want to mend. Or the demons that just love to jump out at him when he is vulnerable. It's the memories they bring that are the worst. Pictures turn to motion, a reminder of everything that has hurt him. Everything that still hurts him.

This isn't the first time. No, James has seen the worst of him. He has seen him when he is pulling at his own hair trying to regain his sense of sanity. Has seen him doubled over the toilet, or those times when he is screaming out of sheer terror at nothing in particular. For it is those pictures in his head, the phantom pains, the chronic pains. Everything that comes to haunt him all at once.

Shallow breath falls from his lips. Chest moves in an uneven, but calmer rhythm than before. He is leaning against the bed, sitting on the floor. It feels better on the floor, cooler, less restricting. When James speaks, he simply chuckles. It is raw, hurt... scared. But still, there is a certain dark humour there.

"I don't either"

Silent tears are still falling. He can't stop them and it is pointless anyway, to try. Pointless to hide from his husband who knows him well enough to understand when shit is about to hit the fan. His hands are shaking, well, his entire being is shaking from the aftershock of the panic attack. Absently he is fidgeting with the wedding back around his finger, as if this can ground him further. Put distance to all that hurts and pull him back to reality.

"It's interesting how very paralysing fear and panic can be, don't you think? Just rendering you so completely useless..."

Silver stares at the ceiling, lips have fallen open as if he's about to continue speaking. Every word is a rasp, as if his throat is trying to keep his voice from escaping.

"... so fucking stupid"

at  the  end  of  the  day,  james  just  hopes  that  silver  knows  that  he  will  always  try.  he's  not  stupid      ;      he  knows  that  there  is  no  magic  cure.  knows  that  there  isn't  a  wand  hidden  in  a  drawer  somewhere,  something  small  and  simple  for  him  to  wave  that  makes  everything  alright  with  the  flick  of  a  wrist.  love  isn't  enough  to  take  all  of  it  away.  but  he  hopes  that  it  is  at  least  enough  to  soothe  the  ache  of  it  all.

perhaps  it  is  the  weight  of  his  upbringing  that  is  dragging  him  down  in  times  like  this.  the  idea  that  he  always  has  to  know  what  to  do  grows  heavier  with  every  passing  day.  how  cruel,  to  not  know  what  could  help  the  one  he  loves  most  in  this  world. 

he  tries  to  make  himself  small  as  he  slumps  to  the  floor,  a  bit  away  from  his  husband.  a  weak  imitation  of  how  he  would  approach  dogs  he  didn't  know  back  when  he  was  young.  palm  open  and  a  direct  line  clear  to  the  door  for  silver  to  dash  to  if  he  ever  needed  it.

❝  it's  not  stupid,  it's  biology.  ❞  his  understanding  is  clinical.  as  simple  and  sterile  as  an  antiseptic.  he  does  not  understand  that  what  he  does  not  feel,  and  makes  up  for  his  lack  of  firsthand  experience  by  seeing  the  world  as  something  painfully  simple.  ❝  it's  designed  to  keep  you  safe  .  .  .  it's  just  rather  unfortunate  that  it  happens  when  you  don't  particularly  need  it.  ❞

fingers  tap  gently  against  the  floor.  invite  silver  to  take  his  hand  if  that  would  help.  james  doesn't  know,  but  he  imagines  that  a  hug  would  have  the  opposite  effect  right  about  now.  ❝  do  you  think  it  would  help  to  do  that  five  things  you  can  see,  four  things  you  can  touch,  exercise  ?  i've  heard  great  things  about  it  after  all.  ❞

Is it a threat or a challenge? Not that it really matters to Silver, for he can already feel an interest stir within. There is no hiding when he drags his eyes over the man before him, takes him in only to meet his eyes with his own piercing blue.

"Is that a promise or a warning?"

Perhaps it's stupid of him to lean into danger, but Silver cannot help himself. He seeks trouble. Seek the things that have the potential to bring harm rather than good. But he doesn't care. Safety bores him, or perhaps it is something he has never known. At least not in a long while. And what happened the last time he had the walls of safety around him? It nearly killed him. Yeah, no more of that.

"And if it's a promise, then are you sure you can handle what I have to offer?"

Silver leans in closer. It is not much, but it is enough for the stranger to know his exact intentions. To give him time to pull away or simply punch him in the face. Either is a good telltale to whether his advances have been accepted or rejected. And so he smirks. He knows he looks good tonight, knows he looks good most of the time. There is just something about that dishevelled look of his. Icy blue eyes, thick curls. His tanned skin and lean body.

all  he  ever  wants  is  to  be  someone  else.  to  discard  the  costume  of  the  tower,  which  hasn't  fit  him  for  years.  to  step  away  from  the  mad  dog  with  the  sharp  teeth,  only  to  find  that  he  longs  for  the  leash.  ellis  is  thankful  for  his  job       ⎯⎯⎯       for  the  ability  to  change  shape  and  story  every  single  day.  who  he  is  today  won't  be  who  he's  going  to  be  tomorrow,  and  today  .  .  .  well  today  he  just  doesn't  want  to  be  lonely.

❝  today  it  is  a  promise.  ❞  he  smiles,  even  when  it's  all  teeth  and  very  little  truth.  everything  about  him  is  fake  these  days,  from  ego  to  home  address.  still        ;       stranger  doesn't  need  to  know  how  low  he  is  being,  and  ellis  can  act  his  fucking  ass  off  when  a  cute  thing  is  on  the  line.

❝  don't  you  worry  your  pretty  little  head  'bout  a  thing.  i'm  pretty  fuckin'  confident  i  can  handle  you  just  fine.  you,  on  the  other  hand,  should  just  let  me  buy  you  a  drink  first.  let  me  get  you  in  the  mood  and  all  that.  ❞  ellis  knows  he  is  both  talking  shit  and  stalling  for  time.  it  is  quite  the  burden,  wavering  confidence  when  faced  with  icy  eyes.  ❝  if  you're  down,  that  is.  ❞

❛ all right, all right! hold on. i'm trying to focus. ❜ when tiffany had invited him along on her workout, shane assumed they'd be running alongside each other on treadmills, or lifting weights together. nowhere in their most recent text exchange had she mentioned a punching bag.

shane  should  be  glad  for  the  kindness  of  a  punching  bag,  rather  than  the  unforgiving  cruelty  of  a  wooden  plank  with  limited  foam.  next  time  (  as  if  there  is  ever  going  to  be  a  next,  if  she  keeps  up  the  giggles  at  seeing  his  attempt  at  punching  )  she'll  teach  him  how  to  do  a  perfect  backflip,  and  brainstorm  silly  little  names  for  his  new  signature  move.

❝  stop  overthinking,  pooks  !  there's  no  reason  for  you  to  get  robbed  in  broad  daylight      ;      you  just  have  to  get  out  of  your  head.  ❞  tiffany  knows  she's  a  horrible  teacher.  a  whole  lot  of  ❛   just  feel  it  ❜,  and  a  bit  more  of  ❛ it'll  all  come  natural  once  you  understand  how  to  do  it  ❜.  she  also  knows  that  she  believes  in  shane's  ability  to  knock  somebody's  lights  out.  ❝  just  think  about  someone  who  has  pissed  you  off  .  .  .  a  shit  ex,  maybe  a  rival  you  really,  really,  hate.  ❞