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?
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."
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.
"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.
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."
"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."
He thinks of playing with Watson's hand like he does his, but that would require the hug to stop. Not going to happen. César sighs and settles further, to indicate he's thinking. Slowly, his smile fades away.
"You know most of it. Going backwards: The incident with Rex, the control system, the attacks on EVOs and the plan to start processing again, and the loss of Rex's memories and our parents. There's... two parts that are missing to paint a complete picture."
In and out, in and out. César breathes to center himself before he begins speaking.
"One: because of... some physics shenanigans," And you know César's too emotionally drained if he's skipping the scientific explanation. "I missed five years of time in fifteen minutes. Rex wasn't 10, but 15, with amnesia. Providence wanted me to officially start working the day after I 'returned'."
And then the tone drops straight out of his voice. "... Which was, for me, the day after my parents' deaths. No one gave condolences, asked if I was okay, expressed sympathy. Just 'start working', from the people who knew I was displaced in time, but never saw it from my perspective. Rex was enthusiastic to ask questions about our parents and get answers. He... didn't really ask questions about me. About us."
Just when a new silence stretches on long enough to sound like he's done, he speaks again. "No one saw me as having emotions or interests worth caring about. I was surrounded by Rex and his new family... and I was alone. I hadn't ever experienced loss before. I didn't know what was appropriate. So I just pretended things were okay, because that's what it seemed like I was supposed to do."
A broken laugh. "Hiding my heart like that ensured I failed to bond with Rex. I know he wanted to love me. But... he's a teenager. And teenagers would rather spend time with other teenagers or their new family they already knew well than their 'talking crazy', 'a little off', 'a little kooky', older brother."
Quiet, then: "In order, things Rex said to me or about me the day we met. When he was little, I was his brother, first. But now, I'm a mad scientist he didn't understand... nor does he care to. Nor did anyone else really until you ended up here. Even those that were fond of me, it was only surface level...."
He sighs bone-deep, warding off tears again. "I didn't matter anymore. I wasn't a person with feelings anymore. And that all happened before Black Knight was in control. I was already sufficiently Othered for being too different."
He has questions about the 'physics shenanigans' but also this is clearly not the time for them, and he realises he probably won't understand the explanation.
"It's easy to dismiss someone as being a little mad, and therefore not worthy of consideration," he says, thoughtfully, "and as though a madman's feeling might not be of great importance to him. You paint such a rosy picture of the social changes to come, César, but it grieves me to hear that this hasn't changed. Not one person asked about how you were handling things?"
César can make it understandable but he'd want to explain the entire thing. For like 30 minutes. Because it's kinda cool even if it ended up terribly.
"I may have... over-exaggerated how rosy the future is, I suppose. To give you two hope." His muscles tighten up, and he's alarmed that he can feel like another bout of tears might begin. "But people too 'different'...."
He trails off, not wanting to explore that further, then speaks again after a moment to reorient. "There's one person who would, but I didn't her know because then Rex would've seen me break. I couldn't. Not when he couldn't see me. And now it's too dangerous to reach out."
César worries he's going to cry again. "... but other than her? You and Johnny were the first to care about me since the day I lost my entire family."
Oops, now there are tears sliding down his cheeks, and his throat is tight. "Rex's new family--all wonderful people--didn't care about my feelings just as deeply as they love Rex. Rex included. Why was I so unlovable to them, John? I know I was failing to be the brother Rex deserved, but... Why?"
Some things later make sense. But the initial time didn't. And that's the part that hurts.
"I can't answer that," Watson sighs. He adjusts his arm around César, pulling him closer, letting his fingers rest at the back of his neck. "I wish I knew. I could offer any number of theories, but nothing that has any substance to it. I have never found you unlovable, my dear. That's the only thing I can say for certain."
He presses a kiss into César's hair. "You are kind and you are good and you are frighteningly brilliant at times. You have passion and resolve. You've also worn your heart on your sleeve for as long as I've known you, and if you could not do that, well. Men do not do well when they pretend to be other than what they are."
"You made it safe to be me, from the very beginning." Oh, there's going to be another round of crying, and the touches all slowly peel away those last layers of false pretense as to how he truly feels. "My entirely family was like that. Rex still is."
César's chest is already sore from the last round. "He's exactly the same. Just older, more mature, wiser. A superhero. The only thing that's missing is his memories and me."
He takes in a gulp of air. "It's not his fault. I'll never blame him. Rex is sixteen, still a child. I'm grateful he's happy and healthy. I'm grateful he's loved and okay. But I'm supposed to be there for him, John. If anything ever happened to our parents, and it did, I was supposed to step in. I was supposed to rise to the occasion and take care of him."
Slowly, he shakes his head, his expression crumpling. "But by the time I was ready, things were broken. And he was gone. Over Christmas, when I wanted to start trying for real. I was unnecessary, anyway. Made redundant. Completely replaced. I was gone. There's nothing I can do for him now, other than to make sure he doesn't love me, to keep him away from Providence and safe."
César lets out a broken laugh. "I broke what little bonds we had on purpose. Just to be certain he'd stay away. There's no way he can ever love me. I thought I was okay with that. That I accepted that. But I don't want it. I wanted Rex to love me, if even just a little. He's the same... and he couldn't accept me."
Everything is tumbling out of his mouth. Every insecurity. Every raw emotion he's held up in him.
"Would he have loved me as a child, if I didn't watch him grow, if I hadn't been there since he was three hours old? Would my parents have loved me, had they not watched me grow, if they hadn't known me since before I was born? I asked myself these questions, until I met you. Until I met Johnny."
César lets go of Watson with one arm so he can cover his eyes, trying to block the tears from view even as his other hand clings to the back of Watson's coat. His voice comes out, hoarsely:
"But now he'll never love me. He can't. I've had to break too much. I'll never be able to be there for him, like I should be. The only thing that kept me going was knowing he'd be okay. Knowing he's got a family. Knowing that I had to save the world to save the world... which also included him."
This is why César didn't let himself feel these things. He didn't mind feeling overwhelming sadness. But overwhelming grief and sorrow, he hated. It hurt.
"Our parents would be so disappointed that I failed Rex. I've never failed them until now. But I failed the most important thing I could ever possibly fail."
But the worst thing about this is what César doesn't know. He doesn't know how desperately Rex wants to be loved by him. That Rex would have altered his path had he known how much César hurt. Rex wouldn't have run away; Rex would have been there for him, even for the brother he barely knew. He would have made it right in the ways that he could.
If Rex had seen César wearing his heart on his sleeve just like he did, he would have started seeing the similarities between them instead of the differences.
"I failed him. I failed him...." He covers his mouth instead of his eyes to muffle the sobs.
The two things. No one cared about his feelings and couldn't imagine him experiencing grief. Then, he had failed Rex entirely. It was all too much to bear alone.
Making soft hushing noises, Watson curls around César. There isn't much to say. There isn't much he can say. He won't promise things he can't, such as forgiveness or that things will work out, because he knows that in César's place he would see through it immediately and hate it. He doesn't know Rex, he doesn't know how a teenage boy he's never met sees the situation. There's too much here he can't possibly know.
"I'm here," he says, instead. "I'm here, my love. You did what you could in the moment. Anything else... well, the future is not ours to know. I'm here."
There's too much they both can't possibly know. César is proud of Rex. Proud of how good he is. And yet, he can't quite believe that Rex is good enough to understand and forgive him. But who can blame him?
César cries, because he was alone and isn't alone. He has two people that already love him so deeply. People who already turn and rely on him, here. Why is this cruise of horrors so much better than back home?
Rex would like John and Johnny. Perhaps more than his own brother. They're relatively normal compared to him. People that Rex could understand.
But that hurts to much to think about. So César doesn't. He just lets the tears happen, lets Watson's presence guide him through this moment. Finally, he can start to process the emotions he wouldn't let himself feel. He's safe, here.
Watson's words get a quiet nod, to show he heard. Otherwise, César will just cry himself out. For the second time, apparently. He shouldn't be surprised, considering how much it hurts, and yet....
Ever patient, Watson waits, drawing small circles on César's back as he weeps. Eight months of emotional turmoil will require a high price to be paid, apparently.
When the fit seems to have passed, he lets out a soft sigh, and lifts César's chin gently. "Here. I think that is a good start, don't you?" He smiles, kindly.
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My room. Please?
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Prose now, I guess lol
"César, it's me."
Apparently!
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"Too much?" he asks, after a minute.
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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...."
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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."
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He's smiling, fond, faintly worried but not very much.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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"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."
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"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."
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He strokes César's back again. "You needn't say anything at all, of course, but I am listening."
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He thinks of playing with Watson's hand like he does his, but that would require the hug to stop. Not going to happen. César sighs and settles further, to indicate he's thinking. Slowly, his smile fades away.
"You know most of it. Going backwards: The incident with Rex, the control system, the attacks on EVOs and the plan to start processing again, and the loss of Rex's memories and our parents. There's... two parts that are missing to paint a complete picture."
In and out, in and out. César breathes to center himself before he begins speaking.
"One: because of... some physics shenanigans," And you know César's too emotionally drained if he's skipping the scientific explanation. "I missed five years of time in fifteen minutes. Rex wasn't 10, but 15, with amnesia. Providence wanted me to officially start working the day after I 'returned'."
And then the tone drops straight out of his voice. "... Which was, for me, the day after my parents' deaths. No one gave condolences, asked if I was okay, expressed sympathy. Just 'start working', from the people who knew I was displaced in time, but never saw it from my perspective. Rex was enthusiastic to ask questions about our parents and get answers. He... didn't really ask questions about me. About us."
Just when a new silence stretches on long enough to sound like he's done, he speaks again. "No one saw me as having emotions or interests worth caring about. I was surrounded by Rex and his new family... and I was alone. I hadn't ever experienced loss before. I didn't know what was appropriate. So I just pretended things were okay, because that's what it seemed like I was supposed to do."
A broken laugh. "Hiding my heart like that ensured I failed to bond with Rex. I know he wanted to love me. But... he's a teenager. And teenagers would rather spend time with other teenagers or their new family they already knew well than their 'talking crazy', 'a little off', 'a little kooky', older brother."
Quiet, then: "In order, things Rex said to me or about me the day we met. When he was little, I was his brother, first. But now, I'm a mad scientist he didn't understand... nor does he care to. Nor did anyone else really until you ended up here. Even those that were fond of me, it was only surface level...."
He sighs bone-deep, warding off tears again. "I didn't matter anymore. I wasn't a person with feelings anymore. And that all happened before Black Knight was in control. I was already sufficiently Othered for being too different."
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"It's easy to dismiss someone as being a little mad, and therefore not worthy of consideration," he says, thoughtfully, "and as though a madman's feeling might not be of great importance to him. You paint such a rosy picture of the social changes to come, César, but it grieves me to hear that this hasn't changed. Not one person asked about how you were handling things?"
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"I may have... over-exaggerated how rosy the future is, I suppose. To give you two hope." His muscles tighten up, and he's alarmed that he can feel like another bout of tears might begin. "But people too 'different'...."
He trails off, not wanting to explore that further, then speaks again after a moment to reorient. "There's one person who would, but I didn't her know because then Rex would've seen me break. I couldn't. Not when he couldn't see me. And now it's too dangerous to reach out."
César worries he's going to cry again. "... but other than her? You and Johnny were the first to care about me since the day I lost my entire family."
Oops, now there are tears sliding down his cheeks, and his throat is tight. "Rex's new family--all wonderful people--didn't care about my feelings just as deeply as they love Rex. Rex included. Why was I so unlovable to them, John? I know I was failing to be the brother Rex deserved, but... Why?"
Some things later make sense. But the initial time didn't. And that's the part that hurts.
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He presses a kiss into César's hair. "You are kind and you are good and you are frighteningly brilliant at times. You have passion and resolve. You've also worn your heart on your sleeve for as long as I've known you, and if you could not do that, well. Men do not do well when they pretend to be other than what they are."
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César's chest is already sore from the last round. "He's exactly the same. Just older, more mature, wiser. A superhero. The only thing that's missing is his memories and me."
He takes in a gulp of air. "It's not his fault. I'll never blame him. Rex is sixteen, still a child. I'm grateful he's happy and healthy. I'm grateful he's loved and okay. But I'm supposed to be there for him, John. If anything ever happened to our parents, and it did, I was supposed to step in. I was supposed to rise to the occasion and take care of him."
Slowly, he shakes his head, his expression crumpling. "But by the time I was ready, things were broken. And he was gone. Over Christmas, when I wanted to start trying for real. I was unnecessary, anyway. Made redundant. Completely replaced. I was gone. There's nothing I can do for him now, other than to make sure he doesn't love me, to keep him away from Providence and safe."
César lets out a broken laugh. "I broke what little bonds we had on purpose. Just to be certain he'd stay away. There's no way he can ever love me. I thought I was okay with that. That I accepted that. But I don't want it. I wanted Rex to love me, if even just a little. He's the same... and he couldn't accept me."
Everything is tumbling out of his mouth. Every insecurity. Every raw emotion he's held up in him.
"Would he have loved me as a child, if I didn't watch him grow, if I hadn't been there since he was three hours old? Would my parents have loved me, had they not watched me grow, if they hadn't known me since before I was born? I asked myself these questions, until I met you. Until I met Johnny."
César lets go of Watson with one arm so he can cover his eyes, trying to block the tears from view even as his other hand clings to the back of Watson's coat. His voice comes out, hoarsely:
"But now he'll never love me. He can't. I've had to break too much. I'll never be able to be there for him, like I should be. The only thing that kept me going was knowing he'd be okay. Knowing he's got a family. Knowing that I had to save the world to save the world... which also included him."
This is why César didn't let himself feel these things. He didn't mind feeling overwhelming sadness. But overwhelming grief and sorrow, he hated. It hurt.
"Our parents would be so disappointed that I failed Rex. I've never failed them until now. But I failed the most important thing I could ever possibly fail."
But the worst thing about this is what César doesn't know. He doesn't know how desperately Rex wants to be loved by him. That Rex would have altered his path had he known how much César hurt. Rex wouldn't have run away; Rex would have been there for him, even for the brother he barely knew. He would have made it right in the ways that he could.
If Rex had seen César wearing his heart on his sleeve just like he did, he would have started seeing the similarities between them instead of the differences.
"I failed him. I failed him...." He covers his mouth instead of his eyes to muffle the sobs.
The two things. No one cared about his feelings and couldn't imagine him experiencing grief. Then, he had failed Rex entirely. It was all too much to bear alone.
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"I'm here," he says, instead. "I'm here, my love. You did what you could in the moment. Anything else... well, the future is not ours to know. I'm here."
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César cries, because he was alone and isn't alone. He has two people that already love him so deeply. People who already turn and rely on him, here. Why is this cruise of horrors so much better than back home?
Rex would like John and Johnny. Perhaps more than his own brother. They're relatively normal compared to him. People that Rex could understand.
But that hurts to much to think about. So César doesn't. He just lets the tears happen, lets Watson's presence guide him through this moment. Finally, he can start to process the emotions he wouldn't let himself feel. He's safe, here.
Watson's words get a quiet nod, to show he heard. Otherwise, César will just cry himself out. For the second time, apparently. He shouldn't be surprised, considering how much it hurts, and yet....
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When the fit seems to have passed, he lets out a soft sigh, and lifts César's chin gently. "Here. I think that is a good start, don't you?" He smiles, kindly.
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