who_is_she (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
who_is_she) wrote2014-11-03 05:07 am
who_is_she) wrote2014-11-03 05:07 am
i drink fish shits two times per day
Conner was having a hard time believing that this wasn't fate, or destiny, or something stupid like that. He'd never really subscribed to that kind of belief anyways, but when you happened to bump into someone in the grocery store who just so happened to have superpowers that were eerily compatible to your own, it was hard to stay objective.
And Gavin--Gavin was just... Cool. He was cute, and funny, and sweet and... And Conner was glad he could block Gavin from reading his emotions, because he was thinking about kissing him a lot. And that was wildly inappropriate, because most of the things they'd been talking about were about how much their respective superpowers sucked and had ruined their lives.
Now Conner was sitting beside him, packing a bowl because he'd mentioned to Gavin that the weed tended to help his powers fade when it got to be too much.
"So you've really never gotten high? Like, ever?" Conner said, tilting his head to look over at Gavin while scratching idly at the stubble on his jaw.
And Gavin--Gavin was just... Cool. He was cute, and funny, and sweet and... And Conner was glad he could block Gavin from reading his emotions, because he was thinking about kissing him a lot. And that was wildly inappropriate, because most of the things they'd been talking about were about how much their respective superpowers sucked and had ruined their lives.
Now Conner was sitting beside him, packing a bowl because he'd mentioned to Gavin that the weed tended to help his powers fade when it got to be too much.
"So you've really never gotten high? Like, ever?" Conner said, tilting his head to look over at Gavin while scratching idly at the stubble on his jaw.
i have to sit for two hours in front of ultra violent light
"Nah," he says, stuttering a little as his leg continues to shake, "I'm pretty straight laced, usually. I mean, there was this one time in high school when I tried to buy some, but I was so scared, and of course then the kid who was selling it to me got all scared too. He ran off and we never talked again." He laughs a little at the memory before clearing his throat. Conner was looking at him, and the eye contact - his entire presence, really - was making him feel warm. It was the first time he'd had a friend he could be in the same room with, the first time he could be sure someone wanted to be around him of their own accord, and the feeling eases his nerves a little further.
Re: i have to sit for two hours in front of ultra violent light
"Oh my God," Conner wheezes, "Yeah, I can imagine how that would put you off the concept." He chuckles once before turning his attention back to his pipe.
"First time I did it, I was fifteen and I thought it was a cigarette. I didn't stop coughing for like, twenty minutes." Conner laughs to himself, shaking his head, also remembering less pleasant sides of that memory; how his best friend had told him to fuck off and he'd asked desperately for something to make it go away.
"Anyways," he said, clearing his throat, "You just cover this little hole on the side with your finger and use the lighter like this--" Conner demonstrated with the pipe, taking a long drag and tilting his head back, closing his eyes and enjoying it as he held his breath. He let out his breath with a puff of smoke that drifted towards the ceiling, then rolled his head towards Gavin, grinning at him.
"Piece of cake."
Re: i have to sit for two hours in front of ultra violent light
"Don't laugh," he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth, stifling another giggle, "I swear to god."
He can feel his throat closing the moment he takes a drag, and he makes a noble attempt to stifle his wheezing for a good 3 seconds before he's coughing up smoke through his nose and mouth, tears forming quickly in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks.
"God," he chokes.
Re: i have to sit for two hours in front of ultra violent light
"Here. Don't worry, happens to the best of us," Conner said, taking the pipe back and lighting it again, taking another long drag. He opened his mouth carefully, rolling his tongue and breathing out a ring, then grinning over at Gavin again.
"Just takes practice."
Re: i have to sit for two hours in front of ultra violent light
He takes another drag, and he's able to hold it in for longer before he starts coughing.
"Fuck," he wheezes, putting his face in his hand and blushing lightly. "This is hard. Let me try again." He brings the pipe back up to his mouth and, concentrating on keeping his throat open, he takes another hit and lets it out slowly. His eyes still water, but he doesn't cough this time.
"There," he says, voice strained to a near whisper, "got it."
Re: i have to sit for two hours in front of ultra violent light
"See? What'd I tell you, practice!" Conner says, laughing, only realizing he's still touching Gavin's shoulder when he inadvertently leeches off some of his emotions. The weed has dulled it to more of a tickle than a full-blown emotion, but Conner could still identify a few threads of it--apprehension, pride, and something warmer he couldn't quite put a name too.
"Whoops," Conner said, jerking his hand back, "Sorry. Didn't mean to do that."
Re: i have to sit for two hours in front of ultra violent light
"It's fine," he says, smiling warmly, passing the pipe back to him and thoughtlessly letting their hands brush as he hands it off, "It's not like my thoughts have ever been private anyway you're. Well," he leans back, considering the word to use. Trustworthy? Special?
He trails off, his mind clouded as the brunt of the high hits him, nearly bowling him over.
"I'm feeling it," he says, eyes wide, "Boy, yeah, I feel it now."
Re: i have to sit for two hours in front of ultra violent light
"Dude, if you start looking at your hand and going whoooaaa I'm cutting you off," Conner says, taking the pipe back, "Are you feeling, uh... Closed off?" He takes another drag off the pipe, looking curiously over at Gavin as he does. He's starting to feel it too, the comfortable floaty feeling creeping over his mind and dulling his powers, leaving him feeling peculiarly numb. Sometimes Conner didn't like it, how the weed took away the constant ebb and flow of vague emotion that was always pressing at his mind, sometimes he didn't like to be so cut off.
With that on his mind he sets the pipe off to the side, within Gavin's reach but deciding he was done. It was better if he stayed mostly sober anyways, in case Gavin started having a bad trip.
Re: i have to sit for two hours in front of ultra violent light
"It's hard to tell," he says, picking up the pipe and leaning back and allowing himself, for once, to relax. "I can't really tell when I'm broadcasting, most of the time. Not like you."
He stares at a spot on the wall for what feels like a long time before taking another hit, coughing again, and closing his eyes as he blows it out.
"You want more?" he asks, offering the pipe back to him.
pot brownie alive and well
Gavin's just... Cute. Really cute.
Just as he thinks that, Gavin speaks up and looks over at him and Conner jumps.
"No, uh, I'm good for now," he says, looking away and hoping he didn't get caught staring, "I thought I should stay, you know, closer to sober. Just in case."
Re: pot brownie alive and well
"This is...nice, so far," he remarks, giving Conner another smile, not turning his face away this time. He finds his eyes fixed on Conner's, and he can't help but think that they're pretty. He doesn't have the mental presence to chase the thought away, and in the back of his mind he hopes vaguely that Conner won't pick up on it.
"So," he says after a minute, his speech slow and lazy, "What do you. I dunno. Usually do, now." Then he adds, with a laugh, "That doesn't involve moving. 'Cause I'm not sure if I can stand up."
Re: pot brownie alive and well
Conner laughs at Gavin's question, shifting a little bit closer to him.
"Uh, I don't know. Watch a movie and laugh at stuff that's not funny. Write a song that sounds awful when the high wears off," Conner smiles a little to himself, remembering a few times he'd wrote what he thought was a beautiful melody at the time. He didn't really have a gift for songwriting even when he was sober.
"Have casual sex with a friend," Conner says without thinking, and regrets it right away, hoping it doesn't come off like an invitation, "...But that would require moving." He laughs a little, unable to look Gavin in the eye and hoping it comes off as a joke and not as awkward as it sounds in his own ears.
Re: pot brownie alive and well
"Oh," he says, pulling at his collar. "I can't really. If that's what you're. I mean I've never," he takes a breath, and lets it out quickly, trying not to go into a panic.
"I don't really. Do that. Sorry."
Re: pot brownie alive and well
"God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-- I wasn't... Proposing anything. I just have the worst brain to mouth filter which is... Probably really obvious right now. That's just, uh, something I do, not that you have to do it, obviously, I mean uh-- I'll just stop talking now. I'm sorry." Conner covers his face with his hands and scoots down the couch, away from Gavin, giving him space.
Re: pot brownie alive and well
"Oh," he says, "god, I didn't mean to assume, sorry, it just," he takes a deep breath and lets it out, and, with his inhibitions significantly lower than usual, he keeps talking.
"I'm sorry if I seem a little jumpy. I-I can't even talk about...that kind of stuff, usually. I've never...I mean I've never even kissed anyone. I tried to date in middle school, before I knew, but,"
He shakes his head again, staring at his hands.
"I think I'm supposed to be alone."
Re: pot brownie alive and well
"You don't have to apologize. I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry," Conner says, aching for the sorrow in Gavin's voice, then goes on in a gentle voice, "I can... Help. With the jumpyness I mean. I can't take the source of the problem away, obviously, but I can... Stop it from overflowing. If you want." Conner bites his lip, wanting to insist that Gavin isn't supposed to be alone but not wanting to overstep boundaries to do it, "I'd have to touch you if I did."
Re: pot brownie alive and well
"You mean, like...suck up my feelings?" he asks, scooting back down towards him a little. The movement makes his head swimmy, and he sits back down not far from him, folding his hands in his lap and resting his head against the back of the couch again, "I-I mean, I'd be okay with that, but...are you?"
Re: pot brownie alive and well
"Yeah, I mean, I'm pretty good at shrugging off other emotions now. I know when they're not mine. Other people's emotions... They feel different." Conner shrugs, not saying that he's kind of been looking forward to knowing what Gavin's emotions feel like. He's always found people he was affectionate with to have a pleasing, warm kind of feel to their emotions, even if they were negative. He reached over slowly, giving Gavin plenty of time to see him coming and stop him if he wanted to back out, then lightly put his palm over the back of Gavin's hand.
At first, it's like a tidal wave. Conner tilts back under the force of it, his eyes squeezing shut and frowning as he loses himself in the flood of Gavin's emotions. For almost a minute the emotion is too intense to identify, and it takes all of Conner's concentration to release the emotion as soon as it enters him. He barely even has the brain power to realize that Gavin's hand beneath his is getting unnaturally warm. After that, the stream slows enough for Conner to be able to tell what he's feeling, a torrent of anxiety and loneliness that feels like a hurricane.
Gavin's emotions feel like water; right now they're like an ocean--vast and dark and treacherous, unfathomable and dangerous, but Conner holds on tight. It really isn't that hard to shrug off Gavin's emotions, but Conner can't help his own visceral reaction to knowing so deeply that someone he's come to care about very quickly knows such pain.
As the hurricane of panicking emotions is siphoned off and disposed of Conner can feel a wider variety of Gavin's emotions, not just the bad ones, and get a better sense of what he feels like. He's still water, but Conner can feel his gratitude and relief like a summer rainstorm with fat raindrops that make pleasing little smacking sounds against his skin; he can feel Gavin's friendship and affection like a warm, relaxing bath. The loneliness and anxiety are still the most present, the largest, and Conner seeps into them the best that he can, feeling an intense ache of his own to know that Gavin feels so alone.
The flow of emotion fades from a trickle to dripping, and Conner comes back to his surroundings, finding himself all but collapsed back against the couch and gripping Gavin's hand tightly. He feels his throat close up and tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he processes what just happened, knows the depth and breadth of everything Gavin's feeling, the weight he carried. Slowly, he peels his hand off of Gavin's, the sweat on his hand starting to cool as soon as the connection is broken.
"God, Gavin," Conner starts, choking on his words, then bringing his hands to his face to wipe at his stinging eyes, "I'd do anything for you to not have to carry all of that." He knows it's too much, too soon, but it's true, and not for the first time he hates this power, hates how he's just a short-term solution personified. There's no way he'd ever be able to help someone, really help them, instead of being a glorified placebo.
Re: pot brownie alive and well
"Thank you," he says, "I...I'm sorry if it was more than you were expecting. Thank you, I mean it, for everything." He reaches over, tentatively, placing his hand back over Conner's for a moment, something he never could have done in his usual nervous state.
"You're...the first friend I've had that I could see face to face. Be in the same room as. Touch. I know we haven't known each other that long but you don't...you don't know how much it means to me. Spending time with you. Having someone I don't have to shut myself off from."
He removes his hand and clears his throat, reaching for the pipe and taking a clean hit off of it this time.
"I hope that's not weird," he says, tipping his head back and breathing the smoke back out easily.
Re: pot brownie alive and well
"No, no it's not weird," Conner says hoarsely, still reeling from the emotions Gavin had shared with him when he'd touched his hand, "I'm glad. That you feel that way." Conner watches Gavin smoke closely without really meaning to; his eyes following the movement of his mouth and throat. He takes the pipe when Gavin's done and sucks down a hit of his own, letting the slight dizzyness ground him.
"Different people's emotions feel different," he says, scooping out the now-spent ashes into a nearby ashtray, "Like... It's really hard to explain because it's like describing the color purple in smells, but... It's like, fingerprints, you know? Everyone's different. I... One of the government heroes I knew, he was like... He was all lava inside. Like, churning and sizzling anger that seeped into everything around him. People who feel like that, like lava or fire or lightning, all that volatile kind of stuff, they... They can be wonderful people but they're exhausting to be around, for me," Conner realizes he's babbling but this is something he thinks about a lot and hasn't really been able to communicate to anyone, so he lets his mouth run away with him, "It's like standing next to a forest fire, scared every second that it's going to spread. So mostly the people I can... Hang out with, they feel more... gentle. My ex from the team, he was like a circuit board. Everything going along a predetermined path, following a predictable route, being dealt with as it came up. That was really... Calming. To be around," Conner pauses, turning the pipe over and over in his hands, remembering how he'd slept so soundly next to Hybrid, the gentle, constant hum of his emotions just like a lullaby. Conner glances up at Gavin, licks his lips, and then speaks again, "You feel like rain. Like... Like water, in different forms. Tidal waves and hurricanes and lakes and baths and... Rain. Rain against a windowpane while you're in your bed, under the covers, falling asleep." Conner pauses, realizes he's a bit more high than he'd anticipated, to be going on like this about Gavin's emotions.
"It's... nice," he finishes, somewhat awkwardly.
Re: pot brownie alive and well
"I'm glad it feels nice," he murmurs absentmindedly, cupping his face in one hand and letting out a small yawn. "I bet yours would feel nice, too, if I could feel them. You're...warm."
youre so firm
"I bet you could feel it, if you tried. I bet you could reach into someone's mind without broadcasting any of your own emotions," Conner said, mirroring Gavin's position to look him in the eyes, "Are you gonna take a nap?"
Re: youre so firm
"I guess so," he sighs, "Sorry, I wouldn't if I could help it, but I haven't been this calm in like...ever, maybe. And now I'm just...exhausted."
He tucks his knees up, his leg brushing Conner's. This time he doesn't break the contact, and he closes his eyes, feeling himself start to drift off rather quickly.