[It's definitely still murky, but better now than waking up in the morning having things unsaid and no one to say them too, right? He remembers that happening. A still image of someone ... huge, and hulking but the face is obscured, blurry. His tail flicks. But following him, shutting the door after.]
He reaches up to toy with the piercing in his lip, a concession to nervous habit, shifting from foot to foot a bit like he doesn't quite know what to do. How to bring anything up when Caleb is treating him (deservedly) like holding a hot piece of cold in his bare hand.]
He will just sit down on one of the beds, hands in his lap, looking at the ground. He's not sure how to take that; he doesn't know what the apology is for exactly or whether he wants it. So he just does the Caleb thing of avoiding it altogether and not making eye contact and just nodding.]
[See, that isn't the apology he wants. Sorry that he is being so difficult, but if you don't guess correctly you won't get anywhere. It's like some bad stand up about wives.]
[No he’s valid here, because Mollymauk knows exactly what the issue and what apology he should be saying. He’s just dancing around the edges of it. Looking over at him, trying to get a read on it.]
It can be important and still foolish. If it was that important, someone else could have done it.
[I know how to go blank. Come back from it.]
... We shouldn’t have left you alone. I know what that is. What that’s like. It can’t have been easy.
Well, that was my excuse anyway. Which I thought was pretty good.
[But that isn’t why he wanted to go. He reaches over to put the edges of fingers against Caleb’s sleeves, where he’s fidgeting his hands.]
... I let it get under my skin, I guess. Standing by every time we tried to talk about all of this happening, my fucking head just going to soup. [Empty.] And you’re both trying to pull me out of here. Suppose I just wanted to try and carry my own weight. Couldn’t think of anything else to do.
It was a bad excuse. I don’t— I don’t care about that shit. It ... It’s just going to keep saying whatever it wants to. It’s going to keep making its point about the story or whatnot and how we’re supposed to do what it wants. And I don’t care. We never cared about what it wants, from the beginning.
I care about you and Beauregard. Instead I’m just wasting what could be the time I have left giving it all my memories. Hurting you. I’m— I don’t want to hurt you anymore.
I don't . . . I know that if I did not want you to, I should have said so.
[If you had said so, he would not have done it, so what right do you have to be angry? He would let you tie yourself to him like an anchor and drag him down with you. Maybe he would get tired of you needing too much from him eventually. Or maybe he wouldn't, and the only one tired of you will be you.
Is that not enough for you? Do you need him to volunteer for it, too?]
True enough. I’m not very good at this. But still, I should work on finding a balance. Once a week is a lot.
[A small smile at that. Trying to lighten it up just a little. There isn’t much point to trying to pick apart Caleb’s thoughts here. A lot of it is harsh on himself, but they’re only thoughts. They don’t have to be true.]
... I want to be tied to you. I don’t want to leave you behind anymore.
[He gets the smile back and leans in a little further, putting his hand fully over Caleb’s arm, moving to put his chin onto his shoulder and looking up at him.]
That’s alright. Sometimes I’ll bruise you with things I didn’t intend. Long as you forgive me for it eventually.
[He’d really meant it when he said it didn’t have to be right now, but he can’t help himself about how relieved he looks at the forgiveness anyway. He isn’t confident about many ... involvement type things (what the fuck is a Relationship) but the one is he is good at, the one he feels he can do most often, is seem to make Caleb feel a bit better. So it wasn’t his favorite when it was clear that he was making things much, much worse just by his presence. Leaning his cheek into the hand.]
I wouldn’t yet. Can’t say I won’t forget again.
[Molly is fairly good at that; often has a good sense for when he needs to be talked down from a ledge and when he needs to be distracted. He'd like to have the same sense. Molly - he doesn't want him to blame himself for losing himself around Caleb, when that's already his fear. He wants him to know it is okay to need to be chased. So he will try a bit of honesty.]
I don't care for it, but it didn't bother me so much. Wouldn't, if it was only you, or only Beauregard. It wears off. I can take care of you for a little while like that.
But. . . you had both already decided to do it. [He trails off; it's a little easier just to think these things, so he thinks - You didn't seem to have considered me in your plans, and I felt a little unimportant. And ridiculous, for being more troubled by it than you had thought I should be. And hurt, because I kept trying to tell both of you I did not want you to go through with it, but I did not know how to ask. I just wanted you to know.]
[His thoughts go schatz ... ? but the tone of voice and fairly obvious placement make it clear it’s something probably very sweet, so he doesn’t ask outloud. He’s listening though mostly to what he’s saying, what he’s thinking. This week is so strange. It’s a strange double line of communication, but it’s almost easier. To not have to pick out the words and instead just have to live with whatever comes out first. It’s more honest, scarier, even, but he’s willing to give the honesty thing a shot for this. I should have known, is the thing. I heard it. I heard you. I just didn’t want to. ]
You’re— You’re more than just important, you know. Only reason I’ve made it this far is the two of you. The only reason I’m doing anything is I want to go home with you. I like everyone here just fine, I don’t want to see anyone hurt or lost or left behind, but— [He sort of clings a little tighter to his arm at this point.] You’re different. You’re everything. The both of you.
[That is very romantic, Molly, even if he keeps adding Beau to it. He knows what he means, though. He understands well how important the Mighty Nein are, that feeling of family. It makes it a little easier to accept the intensity of those feelings. It makes him feel a little ridiculous for his doubts; not in such a nasty self-hating way, but just. . . he knows why Molly did this. Because he wanted to help, he wanted to be useful. So he wraps his arms around his waist and presses his face against the side of his hair.]
[He’d added Beau to it for the specific reason that he does mean it about Beau and the rest of the Nein as well. But yeah, it’s romantic too. It’s most definitely too intense for a two week old relationship, but, fuck it. Sometimes you might die tomorrow.
He twists to wrap himself around Caleb back as best as he can, winding his arms around him back and tail going to curl around one of his ankles - more relief at what seems to be forgiveness.
... It probably doesn’t help the intensity situation when his thoughts just add a very quiet i like you very much to it all.]
[The way he keeps repeating that thought really does ruin him just a little. There's something about replaying his spur of the moment, hardly poetic words back to him, like they meant something. He wants to give him more, reassure him that these feelings are okay, what he wants, not too intense for him. But even in his thoughts, he's not sure how.]
. . . We shouldn't stay too long. Beauregard will want us together for curfew.
[That's part of why he likes them so much though. He just said them so easily. No one's ever said something like that to him so easily. He nods a little at that, because yeah. He's right. But he's not pulling away quite yet.]
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[He's reluctant because Molly doesn't have everything back, it's too murky and too soon, but he'll pull him into one of the dorm rooms to chat.]
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I've got-- Most of it.
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. . . Okay. I'm glad.
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He reaches up to toy with the piercing in his lip, a concession to nervous habit, shifting from foot to foot a bit like he doesn't quite know what to do. How to bring anything up when Caleb is treating him (deservedly) like holding a hot piece of cold in his bare hand.]
... I'm sorry.
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He will just sit down on one of the beds, hands in his lap, looking at the ground. He's not sure how to take that; he doesn't know what the apology is for exactly or whether he wants it. So he just does the Caleb thing of avoiding it altogether and not making eye contact and just nodding.]
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He comes over to sit next to him, twisting his hands together in his own lap.]
It wasn’t— ... It was foolish.
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It wasn't foolish. It was important.
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It can be important and still foolish. If it was that important, someone else could have done it.
[I know how to go blank. Come back from it.]
... We shouldn’t have left you alone. I know what that is. What that’s like. It can’t have been easy.
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[It made sense. But the latter half of what he says - he fiddles with his hands in his lap, looking down at it, but his expression twists a little.]
I knew it would not be for very long.
[I feel as though this is irrational, I feel excessively dramatic. I feel as though neither of you cared what it would do to me.]
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[But that isn’t why he wanted to go. He reaches over to put the edges of fingers against Caleb’s sleeves, where he’s fidgeting his hands.]
... I let it get under my skin, I guess. Standing by every time we tried to talk about all of this happening, my fucking head just going to soup. [Empty.] And you’re both trying to pull me out of here. Suppose I just wanted to try and carry my own weight. Couldn’t think of anything else to do.
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. . . I know. It wasn't a bad excuse, though. It wasn't a bad idea. So I didn't try to stand in the way.
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It was a bad excuse. I don’t— I don’t care about that shit. It ... It’s just going to keep saying whatever it wants to. It’s going to keep making its point about the story or whatnot and how we’re supposed to do what it wants. And I don’t care. We never cared about what it wants, from the beginning.
I care about you and Beauregard. Instead I’m just wasting what could be the time I have left giving it all my memories. Hurting you. I’m— I don’t want to hurt you anymore.
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[He chews on his lip a little.]
I don't . . . I know that if I did not want you to, I should have said so.
[If you had said so, he would not have done it, so what right do you have to be angry? He would let you tie yourself to him like an anchor and drag him down with you. Maybe he would get tired of you needing too much from him eventually. Or maybe he wouldn't, and the only one tired of you will be you.
Is that not enough for you? Do you need him to volunteer for it, too?]
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[A small smile at that. Trying to lighten it up just a little. There isn’t much point to trying to pick apart Caleb’s thoughts here. A lot of it is harsh on himself, but they’re only thoughts. They don’t have to be true.]
... I want to be tied to you. I don’t want to leave you behind anymore.
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[And I won't let you count the things others have done to you, the things you had no say in.]
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That’s alright. Sometimes I’ll bruise you with things I didn’t intend. Long as you forgive me for it eventually.
[Doesn’t have to be right now.]
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[I am just feeling a little sorry for myself.
He'll turn his gaze to look back, reaching to brush his cheek.]
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I wouldn’t yet. Can’t say I won’t forget again.
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[Molly is fairly good at that; often has a good sense for when he needs to be talked down from a ledge and when he needs to be distracted. He'd like to have the same sense. Molly - he doesn't want him to blame himself for losing himself around Caleb, when that's already his fear. He wants him to know it is okay to need to be chased. So he will try a bit of honesty.]
I don't care for it, but it didn't bother me so much. Wouldn't, if it was only you, or only Beauregard. It wears off. I can take care of you for a little while like that.
But. . . you had both already decided to do it. [He trails off; it's a little easier just to think these things, so he thinks - You didn't seem to have considered me in your plans, and I felt a little unimportant. And ridiculous, for being more troubled by it than you had thought I should be. And hurt, because I kept trying to tell both of you I did not want you to go through with it, but I did not know how to ask. I just wanted you to know.]
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You’re— You’re more than just important, you know. Only reason I’ve made it this far is the two of you. The only reason I’m doing anything is I want to go home with you. I like everyone here just fine, I don’t want to see anyone hurt or lost or left behind, but— [He sort of clings a little tighter to his arm at this point.] You’re different. You’re everything. The both of you.
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He twists to wrap himself around Caleb back as best as he can, winding his arms around him back and tail going to curl around one of his ankles - more relief at what seems to be forgiveness.
... It probably doesn’t help the intensity situation when his thoughts just add a very quiet i like you very much to it all.]
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. . . We shouldn't stay too long. Beauregard will want us together for curfew.
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Right. Should head back.
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