middaeg | [SEMI-OPEN] Better not be the one who falls in love again

Entry tags:

dbh: connor

[SEMI-OPEN] Better not be the one who falls in love again

Who: Connor and an open prompt (with other closed prompts later)
When: April!
Where: Aefenglom
What: Meteor shower for now
Warnings: None yet

Everyone wants to fly with the fireflies; (April 3rd)
[It's beautiful, honestly. Connor has never seen a meteor shower, nor has he seen the insects that accompany it. They land on him, and he might glow a soft pink or blue in places, or even green. The emotions that accompany the colours don't bother him as much as the folks pushing him towards anyone whose colours match, but he just lets it happen. He was going to meet new people anyway, right? Strangers get small, polite smiles.]

I'm sorry. We could take this time to get to know each other better, and they'll leave us alone?

[Of course, people who know him get a different response-]

Oh. Well, it could probably be worse.

[He's joking. Made (hopefully) obvious by the way he nudges the other person playfully. The Full Moons are nearing, he's feeling a little bit sassy.]

Wildcard;
(I'll write a prompt out if we plot something, or you can write your own! I'd rather keep memory share stuff to the event post when it goes up, but anything else goes! My plurk is novicecity if you want to plan something! As for which colour Connor gets, I'll either RNG it or you can pick~)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's been a while since Connor last saw L, and he isn't surprised. Their last talk got a little heated. He's decided to leave it a little while and see how things play out. Niles, as far as he knows, hasn't taken revenge on him yet. And Connor still doesn't know how he feels after getting Niles' side of the story.

He gets a photo late at night though, of L drinking alone. The photo was obviously taken through a window, and Niles is the sender. Of course Niles is still stalking him. And he probably knows Connor well enough by now to assume, correctly, that he's going to go have words with the detective.

Though first, he does shoot him a text back. This is creepy, Niles.

The motel is easy enough to find. And it's not hard to figure out which room L is staying in, either. He knocks sharply, but for once doesn't announce who it is. He doesn't want L to refuse to open the door just because he thinks he's getting a lecture.]

you're welcome. ;)

[L's routine lately has been fastidious, organized, and, for lack of a better word, robotic. Transient living in a sustainable way requires some careful planning and foresight, and he cannot wear out his welcome with Myr, who is the only person he finds comforting in any form lately. He takes what he feels is alright from the faun, leaving before his presence can get old after just a night, never more than twice a week... but Friday nights are always solitary, reserved for oblivion that no one else really needs to know about.

There's a ritual to it. The cheapest liquor, not because it's all he can afford. Pills derived from poppies meant to dull his senses and relax his mind. He looks forward to it, draws it out, taking his time with each step so that it doesn't have to be over as quickly. Why would anyone rush their moments with a silent friend who alleviates burdens without expectation or disappointment?

The hours eventually begin to melt together. He could sleep this way, will sleep, possibly even in the bed, when the sound of a sharp knock slices through the warm cocoon he's sheathed in.]

No deliveries...

[He calls out dully, thickly. There are other rooms; clearly, it's a mistake.]

Edited 2020-04-10 05:32 (UTC)

[The slurred speech brings back memories of Hank, and Connor frowns to himself. How intoxicated has L gotten? Does he need to sober him up? He pauses for a moment, and then...]

Linden? It's Myr.

[He mimicks that voice so perfectly, he almost feels bad. But he has to get inside, for L's own good.]

Please open the door.

[Not a mistake, then. L's eyes tense around the edges in a moment of conflict that is inevitably going to resolve in him moving his heavy limbs to go to the door, sliding aside the deadbolt, admitting someone who should not be here. Fauns could fill their time so much more happily than a man who anticipates snuffing out his own stars.]

Why are you here...?

[Muted shock and dismay. This is the sole time and place where L's given himself permission to bar shame and obligation from encroaching... but he's still unlatching the door. Still opening it a crack, peering out with a hollow eye that is slow to register what it actually sees.]

Edited 2020-04-10 05:49 (UTC)

[As soon as the door is open Connor barges in. He is quick to shut the door, and gives L a withering look.]

You're not just drunk. You're high, Linden.

[He takes L by the arm and drags him over to the bed, sitting him down.]

What have you taken?

[The cognitive dissonance alone is enough to throw L for a few crucial moments. Myr's voice, Connor's appearance, and though the pieces slot together they don't click in time for him to shut and bolt the door again. Connor is able to enter with relative ease, and hauling the detective's bony body anywhere is no great challenge. He's not clearminded or coordinated enough to perform magic, and there's nothing sharp at hand to open a vein for an added bit of help.

He's realizes he's sitting a few beats after he is, blinking up at Connor with eyes that struggle to fully focus.]

It was a dirty trick...

[He falls back onto the mattress, propped up dourly on his elbows.]

Did you come here to tell me to end my life again?

Edited 2020-04-10 06:12 (UTC)

I wanted you to actually open the door for me.

[He's not sorry.]

I came here for your own safety. And don't be dramatic, you know I wasn't actually telling you to end your life.

[He starts scouring the room, eyes immediately falling on the bottles and pills.]

No more of these tonight, I think.

[He swiftly picks up the pills and what's left of the alcohol, and pours it in the sink. He then heads into the bathroom to flush the pills, before standing in front of L again. He stares at him intently, scanning his body, monitoring his vitals for a few moments.]

I don't understand what's so appealing about doing this to yourself.

[L begins a series of flustered protests when Connor sweeps up his cheap liquor and unlabeled pills, but his reaction time and physical strength don't give him any realistic hope of stopping the android merrow. He watches in frosty, glazed silence as Connor disposes of it all, glad that he himself works just as methodically. There's already enough in his system to push the upward limits of his tolerance, and any more would probably have made him sick, defeated the entire purpose. It would have been saved for future Fridays.]

You don't understand...? You're not human.

[There's disdain in L's voice. It's unclear whether it's for Connor, or for the only human in the room.]

"Appeal" is the least of it.

[Like "pleasure" is merely an absence of pain.]

Edited 2020-04-10 15:41 (UTC)

[He goes to sit beside L, and gives him a frown.]

Linden... you're sick. You need help, not pills and liquor. Those are only a temporary solution to an ongoing problem, and I'd imagine in the long run they're only going to make things worse. Think of what you're doing to your body. Your mind.

[Connor, while blunt, sounds precisely like a textbook manual for logically explaining why destructive behavior is bad. L forgives the smack of condescension for Connor's artificial nature, alone, but a change comes over his pale face, freezing it sullen, with the particular words you're sick.

He's heard them before, and been able to brush them off... but it's always lurked at the back of his skull, the notion of a ticking time bomb, some twisted inheritance that was always going to come for him.]

I'm not. And I don't.

[Denial so fierce it must be forced.]

There is no "long run." There was never going to be. I came here for something I needed, in a way that wouldn't hurt anyone, and I could have been sleeping by now.

[Deep, dreamless, untroubled. Asshole.]

Oh, well, that's fine then.

[Said dryly, because Connor can detect that denial a mile off.]

Denying the truth won't make it go away. You need a professional, someone who can assess you and help you get well again.

[He just wishes he knew where to find someone like that in Aefenglom.]

Why wouldn't you want that?

[Because disappointment is what happens when impossible expectations don't live up to reality. Humans naturally avoid feeling it.]

There's no one in this world who can do what you're talking about. There wasn't anyone in my world. Wanting it is the most counterproductive thing I could do, if I was unwell.

Wanting help is the first step to getting it, isn't it?

[He watches L intently, eyes studying him.]

And you aren't alone here. There are people who want to help you, to see you get better. People who can support you if needed.

[He leans in, that earnest look back in his eyes again.]

You need to stop taking pills and drinking alcohol, and stop antagonising the wrong people. Maybe eat a little healthier, too.

[Connor's prescribing all of it like it's easy, like it's an option. Like it's obvious. And doesn't that sting the detective's pride.]

I need more than that, and no one is going to give it to me. Just like no one in my world could, even the person who came the closest. It's too much to ask for; what's not too much is a night where I don't have to be who I am for a little while.

[His elbows drop out from under him; he lets his back fall fully onto the mattress.]

I could be anyone right now. I could even be Linden Tailor.

What do you need?

[He shifts on the bed to look down at L.]

In an ideal world, what would you ask for?

[His voice is gentle, even if he doesn't quite understand how L feels right now.]

Don't you want to be Linden?

[If L himself knew what he needed, he probably wouldn't keep making mistakes the way he has. So he doesn't answer, just stares up past heavy lids at the android who will not leave him alone.]

I want to be Linden... but I'm not.

You're not?

[He supposes he shouldn't have expected an answer, realistically. So he doesn't push that.]

Who are you, then?

[He can't tell if L means it literally, or if he's high and drunk and making no sense.]

It's not my name. I needed something to say when I got here, so I lied...

[Everything is starting to interact in earnest in his system. For a moment, he seems confused by Connor's position over him. What else were they in the middle of, that he perhaps forgot about? This situation doesn't feel sexual, but it isn't like the last one did.]

...are you here because we agreed to have sex?

Then... what is your name?

[Connor pauses, blinking.]

What? No.

[He leans back a little.]

We've never discussed that. And in this state, it would feel awfully like I was taking advantage of you.

[L takes advantage of the extra space, inching backward on the mattress warily.]

I thought... perhaps it was the way you found me. A prior agreement...

[Presumably made when he was in no real shape to make one.]

...so... how did you?

[He has a guess.]

[L you can't just leave him hanging like that...]

Niles.

[He glances out of the window. He can't see anyone, even scanning the area, so maybe he left... probably to find somewhere else to eavesdrop from, because he outed his hiding spot to Connor.]

Speaking of Niles, we need to discuss something. You deliberately antagonised him while he was experiencing a traumatic memory.

[L's unfocused gaze attempts to follow Connor's toward the window. If Niles was here, and wanted to throw down, he'd be pretty helpless... not that he didn't realize that risk before coming here, knowingly, with a stalker so tenacious.

At least the alcohol and opiates numb him to everything taxing his senses and his thoughts.]

He attacked me, twice, with real weapons. I didn't feel like I could let that keep happening then, but... my thinking has evolved since, on the matter. If you're worried about it happening again, you shouldn't.

[Connor buries his face in his hands for a moment. You're both... impossible.

He smooths his hands through his hair, giving L a dead-eyed look.]

All you did was make him more determined to hurt you. And after the callous way in which you handled it, I don't know if I can blame him.

[L's returning stare is just as dead-eyed, but... well. It usually is, just more so with the added lacquer of the drugs and alcohol.]

I'm callous. I have to be, to solve the problems I need to. That's what it took to break that illusion... he thinks it was easy for me, but it took time and care and focus under no small amount of stress.

[He grinds his teeth for a moment. They ache.]

I'm really mad that you flushed my pills, Connor...

For L (cw: substance/alcohol abuse)

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