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Post by Arden Patricks on Mar 23, 2009 0:07:00 GMT
I haven't started crying yet.
I'm sitting on the floor like a child, hugging my knees to my chest in the smallest, most confined space I could find - between the bed and nightstand. I'm sitting in the dark, with just a bit of twilight coming through the window. But I haven't started crying.
I feel like I should, but I think I'm still in shock, still numb... still not really willing to believe it. The fact that there's still hope, incredibly slim as it is - that must be it. When he's actually gone I'll start crying.
I always had this thought, somewhere in the back of my head, that people like Logan and Fitzy and I would probably be killed before we reached mid-twenties. As a kid, I couldn't stand the thought of living much longer than I already have - it seemed like too many years, too many days. What in the hell would someone like me do with 365 days times thirty, or forty, or god forbid eighty?
But people like Riley and Lilith and probably Andra, if she'd been allowed, they're the ones who are supposed to stick around, because somehow they don't find it a bore or inconvenience to be constantly alive. And they don't fill up their days with violence or mean-spirited wit.
So why the hell is it Andra's dead, and Riley's dying, and I'm sitting here wondering what in the hell I'm going to do when all I have is Logan and we barely even speak to each other? People like us shouldn't even be around for this long; someone got it backwards.
And msybe Riley's right, that I'll be fine without him. But it's fucked up I should have to be.
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Post by Logan Andrews on Mar 23, 2009 10:32:03 GMT
I think it has to be a bloody record. I've been out since early this morning and have just gotten round to going back now.
I don't know where the day went or even where I spent all those hours specifically, but it's not exactly unpleasant. I feel sort of calm, which is possibly some sort of record occurrence in itself...but it's not unheard of either.
Whatever it is, it's not bad but hopefully also not the prelude to a one of those dragging spells of apathy.
Probably not, because when I let myself into the house and notice how quiet it is, there is that small shock of worry that makes itself prominent every now and again. Like at times like these when I happen to get back and there is...quiet and no Arden, because of the nagging little notion that maybe she's gone and put another plastic bag over her head or something like that.
Possibly stupid, but maybe the concerns not unfounded after all...especially as I head to the most logical place to verify that she's not topped herself and see that she's just sitting.
Or sitting curled into a ridiculously small space.
I take a couple of steps into the room, noting belatedly just how dark it is in here and how...abnormal this is, asking, "Arden...what are you doing?"
A better question would probably be 'what's happened?' because clearly something has, but I'm a little wary of what the answer might be.
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Post by Arden Patricks on Mar 24, 2009 0:50:17 GMT
It's startling somehow to have Logan home already, though by rights I'm not sure that 'already' is quite the right word. I don't think I've seen him all day, to be honest, though I have been out for most of it until coming in here. But it is very... jarring, maybe that's the word I'm looking for. It's really very jarring to be totally alone but then not, and it makes it a little bit ridiculous to be sitting here like this.
Or it would, if I cared. At the moment, though, I hurt too much to care about things like looking ridiculous, and I shrug faintly.
"Nothing you need to be concerned with. Just sitting here."
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Post by Logan Andrews on Mar 24, 2009 9:53:25 GMT
"Alright..." I say after a moment, considering just leaving her to it and glancing idly at the ceiling while I contemplate the best course of action...then decide I can't just leave her to it, because for all I know someone could have upped and died or something, so I ask after a pause, "What's wrong?"
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Post by Arden Patricks on Mar 25, 2009 3:46:06 GMT
"Nothing you have reason to care about," I say again, shrugging. "Riley's dying."
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Post by Logan Andrews on Mar 25, 2009 8:51:07 GMT
Hm, so someone did up and die. Or is dying.
"Dying? What? How?" I ask after a brief pause.
And I've sort of wanted to hear that for a while, but it's not as good to know as I thought it would be. I'm actually sort of pissed, because...that's really very inconsiderate of him to just...die.
And now that I think about it, I don't think I really want him dead...even, just really badly maimed and sort of...away from me, in general, and away from Arden preferably.
So he's...fucking cheated or something, got killed by someone other than me even though I don't even really want him dead and that is very irritating.
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Post by Arden Patricks on Mar 25, 2009 14:51:44 GMT
"Hit by a muggle transportation device and they can't heal whatever's wrong with him," I mutter, looking away. "Now you... go ahead and throw your party if you like, and just leave me alone for a bit."
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop the tears that have finally come, trying to delay them until he's gone because I doubt he'll stick around no matter how much I wish, just once, that he'd be a little normal for just a little while.
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Post by Logan Andrews on Mar 25, 2009 21:54:47 GMT
Fucking...muggles.
I knew nothing good came of the muggle world. I knew it.
But I try not to dwell on it because I have to concentrate hard on biting back the reflexive 'stop that' because she looks like she's going to cry and that's the knee-jerk response. I guess...maybe it's okay, just this once, if she insists on doing it.
Also I don't think I'm going to leave, because that feels sort of like...shirting responsibility almost and I feel somewhat obliged to pretend to be normal. Not that I know what is normal in this situation.
So after a moment I sit down on the edge of the bed, because there's no way I'm going to join her on the floor, and shrug slightly, "Are you sure they can't...heal him?"
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Post by Arden Patricks on Mar 26, 2009 3:26:22 GMT
"... Ten percent chance," I shrug, after a beat of absorbing the surprise that he's actually still here. "And I think even that's optimistic, so... no. He's dying and that means I'm losing one of the best people I know, one of the people I love most after you."
There's no way I can stop the tears at this point, so instead I just lower my head to my knees and let myself cry even though I feel distantly, strangely ridiculous for breaking down like this in front of him.
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Post by Logan Andrews on Mar 26, 2009 9:25:43 GMT
"...Well, it's still a chance..." I mumble, shrugging slightly, despite feeling ridiculous for even trying.
I think we've been in this sort of situation before, except then she was half-hanging out of the astronomy tower window and being upset about someone who was already dead, rather than dying. I don't think I knew what to do then either.
It's made even harder by how she's sitting down there on the floor between the nightstand and the bed, so after a moment, through lack of other options and at a total loss for what the fuck I'm supposed to do, I put my hand gently on her shoulder and hope that suffices as a comforting gesture.
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Post by Arden Patricks on Mar 26, 2009 14:59:03 GMT
It's ridiculous how much it means to me, that tiny little gesture of comfort. And it's ridiculous that it makes me cry harder.
I'm not going to hope for the ten percent chance. I'll just assume the worst because generally that's what happens anyway. But I'm still very grateful to him for saying that, and it's really fucking confusing to be this full of despair and gratefulness at once.
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Post by Logan Andrews on Mar 26, 2009 19:32:05 GMT
I withdraw my hand fairly quickly because it seems to make it worse and make her cry harder and I didn't mean to do that.
And it would really help if there was something to say, because now I'm just sitting here and watching her cry instead and that's a little bit weird and really quite unpleasant.
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Post by Arden Patricks on Mar 26, 2009 20:49:06 GMT
It takes a few more moments before I can cry myself out and calm down, still feeling really very odd in that alone-but-not-alone way that seems to be a hallmark of being around Logan. I dry my eyes quickly as if that will keep him from realizing I've just been crying, and smile weakly. "Sorry." But thank you. And why in the hell did you take away your hand?
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Post by Logan Andrews on Mar 28, 2009 10:24:34 GMT
"It's alright." Which is a sort of empty reply but just slips out as an automatic response to 'sorry'.
At least it's something though, which is marginally better than sitting here in silence like I'm doing again now.
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Post by Arden Patricks on Mar 28, 2009 14:14:38 GMT
I shrug slightly, hesitate a moment, and get up off the floor - wincing faintly at how stiff I feel - to sit gingerly on the edge of the bed beside him as if he's going to snap at me if I move too fast.
"You don't mind, do you?"
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Post by Logan Andrews on Mar 28, 2009 19:33:27 GMT
"No."
I don't know what she means by that, what I might be minding...but I don't mind, right now. I'm just sort of irritated at myself because I really wish I knew what to do.
"I'm...ah...sorry, about..." your best friend dying.
Hm. No. But I really am sorry, for her not him, but I don't know if she's cried it out now or if I should be doing something or what.
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Post by Arden Patricks on Mar 28, 2009 19:38:55 GMT
"No you're not," I say without thinking, shaking my head. Then I grimace slightly, thinking maybe I shouldn't've said that.
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Post by Logan Andrews on Mar 28, 2009 19:41:19 GMT
I glance at her briefly and shrug.
I suppose I can see why she'd think that, and I'm not going to correct her. She can think I don't give a shit if she wants.
I just don't really want to fight with her now.
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Post by Arden Patricks on Mar 28, 2009 19:47:48 GMT
"... Sorry," I say after a moment in the same tone, but with a little bit more of a sigh. "You're trying, anyway."
Or I guess that's what this is, because he hasn't made any of the sort of comments I was expecting, and he actually touched me however briefly, so at least that's something and even though I wasn't being snappish I still shouldn't act like he is.
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Post by Logan Andrews on Mar 28, 2009 19:54:52 GMT
I shrug that off as well, then say after a pause, "It'd help if you told me if there was anything at all I can do."
Which is a slightly less pathetic way of saying that I am trying but failing and I do want to help but don't know how.
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Post by Arden Patricks on Mar 28, 2009 19:58:26 GMT
Hm. There's a good point.
"... Not a whole lot." I shrug slightly. "Just... don't go away on me or anything."
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Post by Logan Andrews on Mar 28, 2009 20:04:11 GMT
I guess I can do that.
I guess I'm also in a tactile enough mood to take hold of her hand lightly.
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Post by Arden Patricks on Mar 28, 2009 20:09:40 GMT
I smile slightly at him when he takes hold of my hand, quickly blinking back the tears of gratitude.
"That helps too," I say after a moment, moving closer to him.
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Post by Logan Andrews on Mar 28, 2009 20:16:45 GMT
"Ah...good." I reply, letting her move closer...or at least not moving away.
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Post by Arden Patricks on Mar 28, 2009 20:20:29 GMT
I nod automatically but absently, then shrug, staying silent for a moment before speaking without thinking again.
"Well, you don't have to worry about me cheating on you ever again."
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Post by Logan Andrews on Mar 28, 2009 20:26:38 GMT
'Good' is the automatic response but I manage to stop myself before I do say it.
I hadn't actually thought about it that way, and I suppose maybe I am a little bit relieved that he's going to be dead soon, but I'm not going to say it out loud.
"I guess I don't." I agree after a moment.
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Post by Arden Patricks on Mar 28, 2009 20:30:29 GMT
I wish I hadn't said that, even if it's true - though it was also true before he was dying and now it's just a little more true - because it seems to have left a bad taste in my mouth and I think I'm just going to stop talking. Or at least I'm going to stop talking about anything that implies Riley's death could be a good thing.
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Post by Logan Andrews on Mar 28, 2009 20:35:12 GMT
Now I feel sort of like I should deny it, now I know it's true that I do sort of want him dead a little bit...rather than just maimed, but I don't.
She can talk if she wants, but I don't think I'm going to on the grounds that I'm probably going to say the wrong thing.
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Post by Arden Patricks on Mar 28, 2009 20:40:51 GMT
I really hate sitting here in silence, but I can't think of anything to say and for once I don't blame him in the slightest for not speaking.
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Post by Logan Andrews on Mar 28, 2009 20:43:26 GMT
And this is usually the point where the silence starts to get under my skin, and it's probably a little bit worse because I can't leave today because she's already asked me not to.
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