July Idiocy

[mortalcoil]

♥ Who: Coil Lenn + Carl Grimes
♥ Where: Trashboy house + the party
♥ When: Mid-late July
♥ What: Storytime + dressing up
♥ Rating: PG-13?


For some stupid reason, Coil had thought that he'd be able to dodge most of the stupidity by staying home. The town was giving him unpleasant flashbacks of suffering in space for an unseen audience, so he had hunkered down in the house, planning on an extended stay of hiding from the outside world.

Curled up on the couch, he boredly pages through the network, looking through the new stories that have appeared for anything interesting... until one in particular strikes a sudden pang of horror in his chest.

It doesn't take him long to realize that there are too many familiar things about the pair of one-eyed teenage protagonists to be a coincidence. The traumatic backstories, the unexpected reunion in a new town, the struggle of trying to live on their own together.

At first, Coil reads out of sheer panic, horrified at the absurd, embarrassing things that the author is having these characters think and do... then, as time goes on, morbid fascination sets in.

By the time that Carl comes home, Coil is so wrapped up in the lurid tale that he doesn't hear the front door. Eye wide and fixed on the screen, device balanced on his drawn-up knees, one hand pressed over his mouth, nothing exists to Coil except the chapter he is on now: the pair's first trip to a hot spring...

Comments

[mortalcoil]

Coil may have lost his handle on a lot of things right now, has no idea what to think about the revelation that had just been made, and couldn't explain why he's currently panicking so badly over it... but there is one thing that he is in fact sure about.

When Carl asks if he should leave, Coil turns back to face him--teary-eyed because of course that always has to be part of his panic on top the rest of the humiliation--and shakes his head. Emphatically.

He doesn't want him to go anywhere.

And being forced to think long enough to answer a question helps interrupt the runaway train of anxiety. He's able to drag in a longer breath and drag the back of a shaking hand across his eye.

[postocular]

It's hard for Carl to think any less of Coil, so this moment of weakness is brushed off as something that just happens. They're human, and emotions can't be contained all the time.. and Carl kind of sucker-punched him with this out of nowhere. Hell, it's kind of out of nowhere for him, too. They can think about it later. Right now it's about getting Coil calmed down so they can go back to ignoring it.

He nods when Coil confirms he doesn't want Carl to leave.

"Okay. Just gimme a yes or a no- will me touching you make it worse?" His hand is poised to rest on Coils knee if he wants it. If not, he'll think of something else. For now, questions seem like a good distraction. It doesn't quell how rapidly his own heart is pounding against his chest, but helping his friend will make it better.

[mortalcoil]

Questions are indeed a good thing. It gives him something to do other than despair over how he can't do a simple thing like control his own breathing. It pulls him out of his own head enough to think about what's right in front of him.

Struggling through another longer breath, he shakes his head. It wouldn't make it worse.

[postocular]

Coil's been around when he felt absolutely useless, so it's kind of a shared despair at this point. Carl's hand lands gently on Coil's knee, squeezing in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture that it's okay. They've gone through worse shit than some hurt feelings.

"Can I get you anything? A glass of water? One of your books? ...Count Scapula?"

[mortalcoil]

Coil is not exactly a touch-oriented person (aside from conveying emotions and affection through things like punching) but the hand on his knee almost seems to help. It seems to be grounding at the very least, and he finally manages to take a string of several deeper, more regulated breaths in a row.

After wiping his eye again, he shakily brings fingers up toward his mouth in the sign for 'water.'

[postocular]

Water he can do. He makes it to his feet, giving Coil's knee a quick pat before disappearing into the kitchen. When Carl comes back, he takes his spot back on the floor directly in front of Coil, holding the water out for him for whenever he decides to take it.

He feels like an asshole for causing the distress. He hadn't meant anything by it, but that didn't really matter, did it? The silence lingers for a few minutes before he tries to catch his best friend's eye. He moves his hand in an open palm in front of his mouth before pulling it away into a closed fist, his thumb extended.

'Better'?

[mortalcoil]

When Carl comes back with the water, Coil has leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and head in his hands, coming down off the last of the anxiety high. He still looks shaky and rattled when he straightens up as soon as he hears Carl returning, but his breathing is under control again.

He signs a quick thank-you before eagerly taking the glass. Hyperventilating is even less fun than it would be otherwise when you're missing most of your tongue. He then proceeds to quietly focus on his glass of water like he might be able to get away with doing only that for the rest of his life.

Carl catches his eye eventually, though. He can't hide forever.

Still holding the glass, he first answers with only a one-handed version of, 'much.' Then, sort of compulsive about it, he quickly follows it up with a clumsy 'thank you' and 'sorry.'

[postocular]

He's relieved to see Coil is somewhat put together, but that doesn't stop the furrow of his brow or the concern in his eye. He shakes his head, holding up a hand to show that Coil really doesn't need to do that. Doesn't have to apologize for anything.

Carl motions between them before linking both his index fingers together. 'We're friends'. He feels like he doesn't have to explain more than that, but maybe that's where he went wrong in the first place.

[mortalcoil]

For a moment, his gaze lowers, eye ticking back and forth between his thoughts. But, whatever it is going on in his head, it never makes it out. He doesn't feel like he can handle unpacking anything more.

So, he nods. A simple but genuine agreement--which, honestly, is still more than he usually lets himself agree to out loud.