[oopfsb / darkest timeline] Curtis

[stilljustandrew]

It's not that he hasn't been eating. It's that he hasn't been able to muster the energy to do much more than unwrap a granola bar or a stick of beef jerky or open a packet of chips, once or twice a day. And even at that rate, he's run out.

He made himself take a shower yesterday, which means his clothes have only been slept in once, so he can probably make it through the bar without attracting too much attention. There's a baseball cap to hide his bedhead, and obscure his face a little. If he's lucky, maybe he won't run into anyone he knows.

Down the stairs, one step at a time, and towards Bar.

Comments

[2goodarms]

"I'm sure nobody ever means for it to 'get that bad.'"

Flatly, as he looks away.

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah."

He's looking away too, blinking.

[2goodarms]

"So yeah," he says at last. "Earlier assessment stands. Fuck that guy."

If the phrase sorry not sorry had survived Earth's second Ice Age, it might apply here.

[stilljustandrew]

He chokes, with something that might be laughter but probably isn't.

"No, bad idea."

[2goodarms]

Oh.

Well, this just took a turn Curtis didn't expect...but maybe he should have, considering Andrew's lingering despondency. Curtis thumps his head back against the wall and shuts his eyes, muttering, "Ah, shit."

He can plan and navigate a lot of complex situations. Despite the times Edgar came to him over the years, heartbroken over some petty relationship drama (a teenager raised in the tail is still a teenager), this particular kind of situation has never been his strong suit.

"Sorry."

[stilljustandrew]

"That's how he does it."

His voice is dull.

[2goodarms]

His eyebrows rise.

Great. So he deliberately used sex to magically sap all the energy out of Andrew, without telling him that's what he planned. As if Curtis could like him even less.

"What's this guy's name, anyway?"

[stilljustandrew]

His throat works.

Very softly: "Matt."

[2goodarms]

"No last name?"

[stilljustandrew]

"Jamison --"

He looks up at Curtis, belatedly wary.

"Why?"

[2goodarms]

"Just curious."

His expression -- and voice -- stay carefully neutral.

[stilljustandrew]

He's cold all over, all of a sudden.

(What was he thinking, going up to another stranger's room, opening up to him --)

"You, uh, you're not gonna ..." He swallows. "Anything?"

[2goodarms]

Curtis studies him for a beat that goes on slightly too long.

And then he sighs, and shakes his head. "I think he deserves everything he gets," he says, "but they've got rules here."

Rules never got him very far in the past -- he can hear Minister Mason's voice in his ear, see her grimacing as she tries for a smile -- but don't beat the shit out of someone is worlds different from accept your place.

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah. It's, he's ... he's not worth it."

He's acutely conscious now, somehow, of how much bigger than him Curtis is. How easily he could ... anything.

I should go.

(He doesn't move.)

[2goodarms]

His mouth twists, wryly resigned. "Good attitude to have."

With some effort, Curtis gets that twist to even out into an approximation of a smile.

"Probably good to have it about whatever you two had going on, too."

[stilljustandrew]

He flushes darkly, and looks down again.

"Yeah." Muffled. "It's not like --"




He has to force the words out, through the grief and the shame clotting in his throat.

"Not like it was real."

[2goodarms]

"Maybe not to him," murmurs Curtis.

Asshole.

"Sounds like it was real to you."

[stilljustandrew]

Bitterness distorts his mouth, even as it trembles again.

"Yeah, but not like that's hard."

[2goodarms]

It's not as difficult for Curtis to gentle his tone as it was for him to smile, but it still takes some effort.

"What do you mean?"

[stilljustandrew]

"I mean I do this all the time, I believe something's true because I want it to be --"

Oh god he's getting so tired of crying.

[2goodarms]

A few more beats pass.

There's the sound of Curtis shifting -- gingerly, a little slow -- as he gets to his feet. In the opposite corner from the hammock, a door (small, just like everything else in the room) opens to a bathroom. Its hinges squeak a little.

Shortly after that, a wad of toilet paper comes into Andrew's line of sight, as Curtis holds it out in silent offering.

[stilljustandrew]

He reaches out to take the offered toilet paper, blows his nose, wipes the wetness out of his eyes.

"'nks."

[2goodarms]

"You're welcome."

He retreats back to the wall, but leans against it this time, rather than returning to his seat on the floor.

[stilljustandrew]

Another nose-blow, and he crumples the makeshift tissue in his hand.



"I can't get past that part." His voice is dull again. "I made it so easy for him."

[2goodarms]

"You liked the guy," says Curtis, shrugging his good shoulder. "Everybody who gets into a relationship has to open up at some point. It's pretty normal."

(Unless you're Curtis, but that's not the point. Normal is just as extinct as cigarettes where he's from.)

"It's Matt's fault for screwing you over, not yours."