lightconductor | IC Inbox

Suspect you were thinking about something very hard indeed. -JW

[A pause, then:]

Did not intend innuendo that time, but suspect still true. I am listening. -JW

Thinking with the wrong head.
[Immediately after:]
A moment.

[He's trying to figure out what to say, then a few messages, one after another:]

I have no idea how any of this works.
I'm very happy! Don't get me wrong. Happiest I've been in a long while.
But....

But? You're doing fine. No wrong answers. What troubles you? - JW

[A series of texts.]

I know I'm doing fine. I know you two care. None of that I'm worried about. It's something else.

It's something I've compartmentalized away. When I do that strongly enough, things... become inaccessible. Like they don't even exist.

But I want to access it. Remove the layers. But that takes time and effort. And quiet. Spoken words are distracting.

... That sounds insane, doesn't it?

[A long pause as a longer response gets typed up.]

Not insane. If you've tried to ignore something, you'll need to reacquaint yourself with that part of you. This takes practice, patience. You don't seem to lack desire, only direction. If you are struggling, what help can I offer? Is there something in particular that troubles you?"

Mmmhmm. That's what I mean. It's not a trouble. But it could become one. Especially in a relationship. I need another perspective. If you'll wait a moment for my thoughts.

[One message, with multiple lines:]
Life is frail. And precious. Something you should cling to with everything you have.
I'm twenty-seven. I put my affairs in order. Had lawyers draw up and file a will. Thought it might be necessary in a few months time, once things were done. Just in case.
I don't I want that, anymore. But I can't just pretend I didn't. I'm stable. I'm happy. I'm in no danger. Not here. But we won't be here forever. I want to continue not wanting that.
Do you understand, John? The pressure I'm putting on the two of you without eithe of you realizing it? You two are doing more than just loving me. You're SAVING me. And that's not fair to you to leave unsaid.

Love, I've been close to that precipice myself, more than once, and that darkness is something I still carry with me. I think you've seen something of it, especially recently. If you lean on us, we lean on you just as heavily. That is, I think, part of loving someone: making each other strong. None of us know what will come to pass here, and I am not sure we can even guess, but at the very least, we are holding one another up in a terrible time. For my part, I feel no pressure in that, only joy. Why should it trouble me that my loved ones lean on me in their time of need, when I do the same to them? I don't need you to apologise to me for that. We would never cease apologising, if so. If you have scars that trouble you, literal or metaphorical, then let me ease that in whatever way I can. My love for you is a new thing, but it can bear that, I am certain of it. - JW

I need a momentary delay in this conversation until I can see the screen again

[Added after a moment:]

Crying now haha
I love you too

Has been some time since I wrote a love letter. Pleased to hear I still have the knack. Do you want to meet somewhere or are you engaged? - JW

I found it! [The thing he couldn't see.]

My room. Please?

Will see you shortly -JW

Ty

Watson arrives shortly after that, knocking on the door.

"César, it's me."

César opens the door just enough to let John slip in, clearly have been waiting for him at it. He has his phone in his other hand still. The man is also, quite clearly, crying heavily and trying to be quiet while the door's open. Seeing Watson makes him smile shakily through all of it, relief and gratefulness in his eyes.

Without a word, Watson steps forward to wrap César in his arms, for the moment just holding him tightly. This is slightly more tears than he expected, but there's really only one thing to do, isn't there?

"Too much?" he asks, after a minute.

Oh, that does it. César desperately clings back around Watson's waist and drops the phone to the ground. For that first minute, he does his best to try to hold back the noises he's making and not cry on Watson's nice clothes.

The question gets an answer with a quick, repeated shake of his head, voice cracking with tears and an overwhelming desperately. "I'm loved. For being me."

A moment, then he manages to choke out. "Emotional dys...dysregulation. Flooding...."

"Shh, shh. You can tell me after." Watson leans up to kiss him, very tenderly, his fingers briefly trailing on César's chin. Watching him struggle to speak is a little alarming, but it's also just, well, what he's come to expect of César, a little. "Let's sit down. You can say what you need to when you have breath to do so."

The door is closed now, and they have privacy.

César thought he was getting his tears under some semblance of control and then—

John kisses him so tenderly. Touches his goatee that Rex thought made him look evil as if it's something wonderful. Accurately realizes he needs to release these emotions without chiding him for having them.

Every one of those things, put together, send his emotional mess back right up to the overwhelming force it was. Fresh tears go down his face, and he lets out a loud sob. César dealt with the emotional dysregulation of painful emotions by simply not dealing with them at all.

But John and Johnny have worked their way past all of his layered shields. John right now stands in front of the core of months of compressed and buried pain that César can't hide from him anymore. He doesn't want to, either.

César belatedly nods to John's suggestions and breaks from the hug, stooping to gather his dropped phone and stumble into the bathroom to inexplicably get a fresh hand towel before walking to the bed.

He flops into a sitting position in the middle and top of the made bed. Which means he thunks his head against the headboard. César gives a startled, strangled laugh.

"Ow."

"Careful," Watson says automatically, as he settles himself in beside César. He wraps an arm around him, coming to cradle the back of his head. "There we go, my dear fellow. Take all the time you need."

He's smiling, fond, faintly worried but not very much.

"I love you," César gives him a watery smile at the loving touch at the back of his head, dropping his phone next to him.

He diverts his gaze down as he spend a moment unfolding the towel and folding it over once longwise before tucking it around Watson's good shoulder and burying his face into it so he can sob without getting Watson's clothes dirty. It also muffles the embarrassing noises he's making right now.

Shush, he knows his priorities are a bit messed up right now.

César wraps his arms around Watson's waist and curls up for a full-body hug, careful to not press against his bad knee. Even in the state he's in, he still takes that care.

"I love you, too."

He's... probably not going to ask about the towel. Maybe later.

Still, Watson welcomes that embrace easily, without further words for now -- what else can he even say? He has always loved quick and fiercely and now is no exception, and sometimes there's nothing else to add to that. Instead of words, he brings his hand to the centre of César's back to draw soothing circles.

He didn't want to cry over Watson's nice clothes. It's a very silly thing. But he had to do it.

César seems to cry himself out after a number of minutes pass. Somewhere in the realm of single digits. He eventually pulls back and takes the towel, moving away enough to, ah, blow his nose not right next to Watson. Towels are not the usual best option for nose blowing, but a hand towel is, ah, what he had on hand.

Slowly, he looks up at Watson and grins a bit in embarrassment as he folds the towel around itself. "Dirty clothes wash, but...."

He drops the towel, picks up his phone instead, and crawls back to Watson. César pillows his head on Watson's shoulder. That's why he wanted it dry.

Watson laughs a little, but welcomes César back into his arms. He runs his hand down César's back, from the nape of his neck to the curve of his lumbar region, and lets his fingers rest there.

"Are you feeling better, then?" His voice is gentle, a low rumble. "It seems as though you had quite a lot of, ah, emotion to express. You must be exhausted after that."

César lets out a sigh at the very long stroke down his back and closes his eyes. He rests there for a very long moment before answering.

"I am, thank you. Better but tired." César's voice is quiet, and he chuckles tiredly. "Apparently, I was looking to start dealing with eight months of unprocessed emotions that were slowly killing me."

Edited (oops icon) 2022-05-07 21:11 (UTC)

"Heavens, but that's a long time." Watson grimaces a little, though admittedly César probably can't see that. "Apparently I knocked the stopper out, though. I'm not sure I oughtn't apologise for that, even if I suspect it's better in the long run."

He strokes César's back again. "You needn't say anything at all, of course, but I am listening."

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cw: suicidal ideation OKAY THEN UH THIS TOOK ME BY SURPRISE TOO

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Prose now, I guess lol

Apparently!

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