ВНИМАНИЕ!! ВНИМАНИЕ!!

@tinzony FROM HERE

Simon follows him like a lost dog. Back to their room. Back to the warmth of their bed. His head was still swimming, but he was less distressed than he had been when he'd left in the first place. He'll take it as a win. He slots into his spot, arm spreading to wrap Johnny in the same way the smaller man wrapped him. He closes his eyes, continuing to breathe deep. For the moment, he could almost forget he'd just panicked like that. It hits him like a train when Johnny asks if he wants to talk about it, though.

He juggles his options in his mind, weighing out what breathing them into reality would really do. Ultimately, he does decide to share at least a little bit, if not only to let Johnny feel at least a touch more helpful. He'd found in the past it did offer some relief, but the deeper horrors would stay within. There was no purpose in bogging him down with it. He breathes, curling in to face the other in bed. "Was about this," he reaches up to brush the scar on Johnny's temple. "Can't undo it now, but I'm stuck on it. Should'a been there."

He can feel the settle, the release of muscle and pop of bone, the soft breaths as they fell into their shared rhythym. Like a taut rope between them that only relaxed the closer they got - just the way he liked it. And no, he wouldn't admit how much it hurt that it nearly snapped back and made his skin crawl when Simon's hand reached up past his face. To there. To the spot that killed him; inside, deep inside where even he didn't dare to share. Pot - meet kettle. The faintest of deep breaths, Johnny managed to keep the gentle smile on his lips, shift in his limbs as he wiggled just an inch closer.

Please don't notice.

"Couldnae been, ya know tha'." Of course Simon knew that, and Johnny knew that. Johnny also knew the obvious needed to be said out loud for Simon to actually believe it - or at least, try to. "Can be stuck on shoulda's and coulda's all ya wan' -" The 'hmph' was likely visible in his eyes, " -butterfly effect. You were righ' where you were meant ta be."

He'd never talk to anyone else like this, not now, not in this moment. Okay, maybe he would. But Simon wasn't anyone else. Simon was ... well, Simon. A man who worked in terrible jokes, thriving off banter and argument - all for the sake of a snorted laugh. He worked off challenge, and the drive of someone Johnny firing right back like it were conversation over the dinner table.

Javi wants to be mean. He wants to get angry because it’s what he knows and what he’s best at. He bites it back though. No amount of cruelty in the moment was going to help, and the truth of it was he didn’t actually want to be that way. It was a disgusting habit that he’d let fester for far too long. He sighs, heavy and deep, clenching his shoulders up and letting them fall with it. “I’m sorry,” he says, after a silence that hung as dense as the humidity in the air between them. He was stressed, but he wouldn’t verbalize that for fear of sounding like he was making up excuses.

“Yeah.. we’ll get the next one,” nevermind that there season for this was limited, and Javi’s entire life hinged on getting each and every scrap of data he could manage during that short time. Nevermind the fact that the pitch had gone well, and they were expected to repeat Kate’s experience again, but this time with proof. Nevermind the fact that they’d still yet to be able to recreate those results.

"Yeah." No, there was nothing to affirm in the moment aside from the inability to say 'it's okay'. Because it wasn't, and it was far from the best thing Tyler could say to him - Kate had at least told him that much. "We'll be alright." A lovetap to Javi's bicep and a wide grin as chaser, all he could think ... would they be?

It wasn't the work - Tyler didn't give a shit about the work; he did. It wasn't what mattered though, not to him. He didn't lack in the confidence of what that entailed, despite most everyone around him falling to the opposite. No, where he lacked in confidence was that everything would, in fact, be alright. Or that it would be discussed at all. Or that he could even say it. Or that anyone would listen to it.

"The song?" It likely didn't matter much to Marius, aside from it being enjoyable, but maybe it would give some kind of connection. Really, Maxim seriously doubted it. Just as much as he doubted he would know it - or that Marius wouldn't think the same. It was filler. Something he knew they both needed until it fell into a natural rythym, a habit. Ask - enter. Discuss - get comfortable. Connect - scoot closer. Laugh - lean on. It always followed the same pattern until the smiles became mindless, the mutual rabbit hole on YouTube began, and heads clunked against eachother into much needed sleep.

Olivier had ditched his protective gear, only remnants being the sling that held his arm. Ever-present reminder of the sacrifices being made to get from point-A to point-B. This was meant to be a one-and-done. Get Igor into Chornobyl. He’d done that, and yet, he couldn’t seem to drag himself away now. Committed to avenging Anton’s legacy, he had long since accepted that his fate was to stay here until that black mask motherfucker was dead and gone. Ulterior motives aside, this was his primary goal. Igor had moved to the secondary, but seeing him now - something was wrong.

It wasn't often Igor considered himself at a loss for words, always something to say even if it wasn't the best thing. He was a thinker - in the moment, most often; but words never seemed to click just right in his head the way he wanted them to. Searching his comrade's for a moment, he found himself struggling to discern what, exactly, had flashed in his eyes. It had seemed to hold an almost ... sharpness? Appraisal? Whatever it was, Olivier wanted answers. Answeres Igor couldn't quite give.

"... i'm not entirely sure." It was as honest a response as he could give the man, he really didn't. And that was a feeling that was starting to become uncomfortably familiar. He didn't know ... or maybe he did, and that scared him more than the uncertainty - the fear of knowing. Igor couldn't tear his thoughts from the encounter he'd just jumped from; the image, the sound, the memory of the man in front of him fresh as if he still were. It stuck a twinge of guilt in Igor's gut that he struggled so much to give Olivier the attention he deserved - well, demanded. But focus was running on fumes and the ability to root himself where he stood was seemingly impossible.

I had this image stuck in my head for weeks, and I was finally able to draw it out.

@tinzony sent: ❛  stop that. i don't want you to talk about yourself like this.  ❜

There's been many a moment spent second guessing what he was even doing. Mostly in the dense heat of frustration. Despite their new partnership, and everything that had come with it. Kate staying in Oklahoma, the three of them entering into a relationship together. Everything was tense, and Tyler was new. Kate and him were at least on some common ground. He stops talking, though. He doesn't keep going, knowing he'd never stop the stream of curses if he kept going.

"Whatever." The answer is short. Curt. Snappy. A lot more cruel than Tyler deserved, really. It's not his fault. It's no one's fault. "I fucked it. We'll get it next time." And although he still hasn't come to terms with this time being his fault, he's going to pretend at least for Tyler's sake.

It wasn't Javi's fault that Kate was sick and couldn't be there. It wasn't his fault they fucked the set up on the thick funnel. It wasn't his fault Tyler barreled his way in the path while the rest of Storm Par went the wrong way. No, that had been Tyler's fault - for thinking he had it handled. Thinking the communication would just flow between them like it did with Kate, like Javi had with Kate.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? Tyler wasn't Kate. And as much as he had to swallow down the hurt in his chest and the immediate urge to snap back, he understood. It didn't matter that they were together, nothing was going to change the pain Javi had been through or the years he'd spent being stuck in it alone.

"We will." His voice was tight, clenched in his jaw and gaze that was forced to watch someone he loved berate themselves into the mud. "You had every reason to do what you did. I don't blame you, no one does." Javi wouldn't believe it, no matter how right Tyler was. They chased on facts and data, trust in numbers - trust in history; and Tyler didn't fit in it - because he wasn't Kate.

And he understood.

"It's really not your fault, Javi." The smile on his face, while small, was nothing short of genuine. "We can't catch every single one. We'll get the next, we'll ... we'll figure this out."

he’s so boyfriend here