neverfoundtheanswer

Yeah. [Is the muffled response from the pillow, his head still firmly pressed into it. He doesn't really even want to turn but eventually he does, just moving his head to the side so he can look at Kevin, studying him for a moment to make sure he's okay. As much as he can see in the dark anyway.

He's not really sure what he expects to find, clearly neither of them are okay, just pawns on some demon's chessboard, expendable and small, what does it matter if they fall apart? There are probably hundreds more to replace them when they do. He closes his eyes, taking a moment to just breathe before asking Kevin a question of his own.]

Bad day?

Yeah. [His voice is soft, resigned. He doesn't say anything else. What else is there to say, really? Neither of them can get rid of this by talking about it.

He reaches out a little after a few moments, his hand landing next to Emery's on the bed -- close enough that the movement of the bed probably makes it clear that he's there, but not quite reaching out for him. He doesn't know how bad it is, doesn't want to make it worse. It's not like the contact's going to make anything better. It's just the only thing he's got to offer. He can't even claim it's going to be better. It'll get better, but it won't stay that way.]

[It takes him a bit of time, frustration and pain and sadness making him stay quiet and withdrawn, but eventually he uses Kevin's breathing to calm himself down. First just listening to it, counting how long it takes between every inhale and exhale. Then eventually he matches it to his own. It doesn't matter if it's fast or slow, it just gives him something else to concentrate on for long enough that he eventually relaxes. The pain still not gone, but at least a bit more manageable.

He reaches out to grab Kevin's hand once his breathing normalizes, giving it a small squeeze, talking quietly in the space between them.] I don't think he likes that I have my own life.

[His instinct is to hold on tight to anything close enough, tighter than is probably comfortable. He makes his grip relax after a second, frowning in the darkness, studying what he can make out of Emery's expression.] You think he's just trying to ruin everything else on you? [It makes a surprising amount of sense, actually. It'd give Emery more time to focus on his errands.]

I don't know what else he is doing. The last few times this has happened, I haven't even had tasks. [Either he wants Emery to be totally and completely at his whim or he is trying to regain control, but Emery hasn't done anything to make whoever believe he doesn't have control. He's still done everything he's asked, he's even been on time recently, now that he doesn't have to worry about losing his housing if he misses work, it's a lot easier to call out or go in late. He can't think of any other reason for being punished this way.]

[He can think of a couple other options, but none of them are even better. Might even be worse -- if he's just trying to break Emery down, doesn't need him anymore, then there's plenty to worry about. So he doesn't voice that thought, keeps quiet for a few moments -- and then a few more, eyes unfocused for a second as he tries to block out the voice in the back of his head, startling a little as he draws himself out of it.]

He probably won't answer questions either, huh.

[He notices Kevin’s startle and moves his hand from within Kevin’s to rub at his arm instead, running it up and down, feeling bad that he hasn’t given much attention to the fact Kevin is also having a bad day.]

It’s fine. I’m sure he’s just mad or something. [He isn’t exactly shutting down the conversation, as much as pivoting to the more pressing issue.] What’s on your mind?

It's fine. [Quickly. It's easier to just ignore it, even though that doesn't actually seem to do any good; it just feels like doing something, while acknowledging it doesn't. But he will admit after a moment, just so hopefully Emery doesn't worry as much:] It's very -- present. But it's fine.

What if you try to drown it out? Like think of something else that takes more of your attention? [The first thing Emery thinks of is pain, probably just because he's still dealing with his own issues, but obviously he isn't about to hurt Kevin. So instead he does the next best thing he can think of, and starts singing, quietly but obnoxiously.] Oh Mickey you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind, hey Mickey. [He keeps going for one more line, looking expectantly, like he expected that to just automatically work.]

[He snorts when Emery starts singing, doesn't actually stop him, but he shakes his head when he stops.] I don't think one hit wonders are powerful enough. [He sobers a little more after a second, going on:] I still haven't really found anything that can keep my attention when it's like this. Kind of hard to drown out something that's in my head, I guess.

You just need to find something really engaging...[It's mostly for the sake of trying, he's too painful to really follow through, not sure what he'll do if it works, but he leans forward, pressing his lips against Kevin's, lingering for just long enough that it can actually be considered a kiss before pulling back to his side of the bed.]

[It does surprise him enough to pull him out of his head for a moment, though that part isn't that shocking. He gets so detached from his physicality on these days, anything that really grounds him in his body helps a little. It just doesn't help enough.

Mostly, he's just not expecting it, which is odd to realize, considering what their relationship used to be. But, well, things are pretty different now.]

Don't move so much, you'll hurt yourself worse. [It's easier to try to deflect than thank him for trying, but Emery probably is used to him enough to read the gratitude underneath it.]

[He gives a brief little hum, only slightly disappointed that it didn't work. Maybe it would have given them both a distraction for a little bit, even though every move and touch still feels like knives on his skin, everything oversensitive, his nerve endings all exposed. He gives a small smile instead.]

I haven't given up. We'll find something that works.

I could go pry open the liquor cabinet.

[He's only half-joking. The months of someone else's control got him off of all his vices, but it's only a sense of exhaustion at the thought of leaving the house that's kept him that way so far. He doesn't think it'll help really, if anything it might make him worse, but maybe it'll stop him from caring.

Besides:] At least we know it might work for you.

I feel like that might be worse for you. Usually reality is a little harder to grasp when you are drunk.

[At the suggestion that it might work for him, he flushes, thankfully something that probably isn't noticeable for how dark it is.] I still don't really drink. I haven't had anything for...months. [Basically since they stopped hanging out, making it embarrassingly apparent he only ever really drank to impress Kevin.]

No time like the present to fix that. [The teasing is a little bit lackluster, though, not really trying to talk him into it. He's not actually sure it ever helped that much anyway; he definitely didn't have enough information to be sure back then.]

If I'm looking for a way to avoid all of this, I think I'd rather just have you knock me out. [Still teasing, although there is a slight edge to it. The fact that everyone assumes he's doing drugs when he passes out somewhere he shouldn't be, even his family, instead of trying to help him, leaves an incredibly sour taste in his mouth. If anything he's only become more opposed to drugs and alcohol in Kevin's presence, like he could spitefully prove everyone wrong, even if they'll never actually make him take a drug test, they'd rather just believe what they want.]

[That edge makes him hesitate, not actually sure where it's coming from. It's not something Emery's ever had an issue about coming up before, but god only knows what changed while Kevin was gone.]

I'll keep that option for later. Pretty sure we could come up with something better anyway. [He squeezes Emery's hand lightly, shrugging one shoulder.]

Yeah. Maybe if we figure out what works for you, it'll work for me too. [He tries to sound a little lighter in his next statement, aware he went a little too hard a moment ago, still very hurt by the loss of his family, and the way it all came to be.

He slips into quietness again, closing his eyes with a small scowl. It's been hours and he still feels the pain, if this is the new normal, drinking might be the only option to get through this. He hopes that isn't the case.]

I suppose meditating wouldn't be enough? [Said after a bit of silence, the only sound coming from his thumb gently rubbing back and forth across Kevin's hand.] Don't they teach you to tap into certain parts of your brain and quiet other parts?

[He's pretty doubtful about that statement. Bringing more awareness to his own body probably won't do Emery any good. But he keeps that to himself, takes it as an attempt to back off and lets the silence settle for a little bit, tuning in and out of his own brain.]

I don't know. Never did it. [He frowns a little in the darkness, shifting slightly.] I don't know how much getting deeper in my head would really help.

Fair. But maybe it could teach you to tune it out. [Said conversationally, not really pushing the issue, just stating that it might be worth the discomfort if it ends up being helpful in the end.]

Wish I could give you a CT scan. [And he really sounds morose about it.] If I knew what part of your brain was affected, I could probably prescribe something for you. Or get someone else to.

Maybe. [He's not necessarily against anything that might help, honestly. It's just hard to think much about trying something new when it's already this strong right now.

He considers that for a few moments, his frown only deepening.] That's assuming this stuff actually shows up. You really think it would?

I don't think it would show up as like an injury or anything, but you are accessing some part of your brain for this, if you thought about it or followed the thread, even just slightly, I could see what part lights up. [He sounds more alert and engaged in this than he has since he first walked into Kevin's room. If it wasn't clear this stuff is his passion, it's certainly becoming more apparent.]

If I had to guess. I'd say it's your parietal lobe...we could try a medication that treats schizophrenia, see if it helps at all.

[It's honestly not something he knows how he feels about. In theory he gets that anything he's thinking about would show up somewhere, but the idea that there'd be a physical trace of the thing trapped in him feels different.

But the fact that Emery's actually invested in the conversation makes him a lot more willing to keep up with it. He hums, asks more idly than he actually feels:] Which one's that again? [He doesn't honestly care, he's just trying to keep him on this thread of conversation.]

[He moves his hand from Kevin's, only wincing slightly as he lifts his arm, pressing against the crown of his head where the parietal lobe would be.] Behind the frontal lobe, above the temporal. It's responsible for sensory output and spatial awareness, everything you see, hear, feel, as well as the position of your body and how it exists in space. [He recites the facts easily, like he has all of this information memorized and readily available to share.]

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