-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
TG: hey rose long time no see
TG: imagine me making a witty comment about the weather here
TG: nice weather were having
TG: not a meteor to be seen
TG: its making me downright homesick for sburb
TG: i would say its peaceful but i know better by now than to jinx it
TG: i mean the other day it rained cats dogs and chinchillas for good measure and im pretty damn sure i had something to do with it
TG: i was getting my freestyle on
TG: nary a freudian slip to be seen just wholesome family friendly bars about the sun
TT: And I'm sure that that says something equally revealing about your psyche.
TT: Is there something I can help you with?
TG: can a guy not just talk to his ectosister
TG: what is the world coming to
TG: i need an excuse and everything
TG: probably a number too like at mcdonalds or whatever
TG: when you buy your fries and whopper and large beverage and they give you a number like "please sir take a seat anywhere"
TG: except the order is you
TG: im placing an order and the order is you
TG: i ordered a big fat slice of rose lalonde and now that youre online its time for me to dig in
TG: i think i just broke my streak
TT: Sexually charged remarks aside, a Whopper is traditionally Burger King fare.
TG: i havent seen a burger king or mcdonalds in a good twenty years i dont honestly think that it matters
TG: i mean whos keeping track at this point
TG: other than you
TT: Good question.
TT: I have a better one.
TT: What do you need?
TT: Cut the bullshit.
TT: You only pester me when you're inebriated or worse and wanting to lament in a way that our peers could not hope to accommodate.
TG: well youre one to talk
TT: I can't blame you for using me as your last resort, I haven't exactly fostered an open and friendly relationship between the two of us, but you can understand why I'm asking.
TG: ok
TG: i guess that train has left the station
TG: dont make a joke about trains and tunnels and freud if i wanted my pipes expanded i could look to the army of potential beaus begging for my virginity at the coming out ball
TT: Noted.
TG: ok let me try again
TG: that ship has sailed
TG: i always forget that a ship sailing is shipper speak
TG: we stand and salute our troops
TG: the troops in question being the yaoi warriors riding in on their naval fleet of sailing ships
TG: their opponents cant hope to compare
TG: they stand on the shore watching the yaoi army as they cower and piss their pants and kiss their wives for the last time before the yaoi missiles hit their mark
TG: quick jimmy wave the white flag
TG: hoist the tighty whities up on the flagpole except oh shit those arent white anymore
TT: Dave.
TG: dammit
TG: fine
TG: just remember you asked for this
TG: shit
TG: i cant do this forget i was ever here
TG: do me a favor and delete this log
TT: I don't think that I will.
TT: This is going in the 2TB folder I keep in order to archive our thrilling conversations.
TT: Upon the completion of our discourse, I call in a fleet of scientifically-minded carapacians to analyze the influences of your childhood on your current-day thought patterns.
TT: We work tirelessly to dissect the minutia of your psyche and record it for future generations.
TT: It's thankless work.
TT: And I must say, you've given me some particularly interesting ammunition today.
TG: what can i say
TG: i have a soft spot for carapacians in lab coats
TG: im always looking out for the next generation of scientists
TT: Well rest assured you're providing yourself a legacy.
TT: Our conversations have uncovered previously undiscovered fields of study that will be scrutinized for centuries to come.
TT: There is an orgy's worth of -ologists copulating with incensed fervor in my humble abode as we speak.
TG: im imagining the little cartoon dust cloud of censorship
TG: gotta keep it pg no blood no gore no tits no dicks
TT: Every so often a microscope emerges from the fray, covered in lipstick kiss marks.
TG: were on the same wavelength
TT: Yes, funny how that works.
TT: Seeing as how we are genetically related and all.
TG: and this is tangentially related to what i wanted to talk about
TG: so i guess its time to get down to business
TG: the ice has been broken
TG: the briefcase is open and the money is sitting there all jutting and impudent out there on the table
TG: ben franklin is all yours for the night
TT: I do so enjoy our conversations.
TG: ill bite your shitty bait just stop with the sarcasm already
TG: nipping that in the bud
TG: the rosebud
TT: Said metaphorical bud has sprouted.
TT: We are currently discussing a rose garden of Sleeping Beauty proportions.
TT: But pardon me.
TT: Carry on.
TG: dont say i didnt warn you
TG: i cant get off without thinking of you
TG: ive tried every fucking thing okay
TG: everything
TG: stroking and choking and every toy earth c has to offer and then some
TG: ive been circling the produce section like a goddamn vulture looking for shit to carve into or shove up my ass
TG: ive sampled from heaping platters of pornographic material looking for anything that i could even potentially get my rocks off to
TG: hell i plucked my head out of the supple embrace of my prostate tissue just long enough to talk to my doctor about it but he couldnt do diddly squat
TG: i mean i didnt tell him very much because who tells their doctor that they cant get off to anything except their sister but for what its worth i still passed and collected that fifty
TG: ive even tried smuppets
TG: which i cant actually recommend LESS
TG: zero out of five hats im still picking foam out of my nooks and crannies
TG: because when i say everything i mean everything
TG: you could make a dr seuss book out of the things ive tried to masturbate to with and at
TG: rhymes and all
TG: but i may be fucking impotent
TG: or i mean
TG: conditionally impotent
TT: I think that it would be wise to refrain from commenting here.
TG: probably
TG: remember when we were on the meteor
TT: Vaguely.
TG: well good
TG: because i think that was the last time i properly got off
TG: rose
TG: earth c to rose
TG: hello this is ground control to cosmonaut lalonde
TG: yes this is houston come in
TG: no way
TG: ive actually rendered the great lalonde speechless
TG: wheres my fucking award ceremony
TT: Dave.
TT: I'm not sure if I'm comfortable having this conversation right now.
TT: Or ever.
TG: with all due respect i dont give a damn
TG: you did this to me
TG: i know we dont talk about it and all but you made your bed and now youre going to have to suck it up and lie in it
TT: I was young and I didn't know what I was doing.
TT: And I'm sorry, I really am, but there's nothing I can do to fix this now.
TT: There's no use dwelling on the past.
TT: So please, if you can, refrain from discussing your masturbation habits in detail. You have blanket permission to choke the proverbial chicken to my likeness.
TG: no
TG: thats not what im looking for
TG: and thats a shitty goddamn apology to boot
TG: i hope you realize that i was young too
TG: and you werent the first person to rape me but you sure made it memorable
TG: you ruined my brain
TG: and probably my sperm count
TG: here
TG: lets see what the internet has to say about all this
TG: this sounds promising
TG: complications of testicular trauma can include:
TG: infections
TG: infertility
TG: low testosterone
TG: urologic problems
TT: Dave.
TG: no listen
TG: what about ptsd from sexual assault
TG: oh wow what a coincidence i just found a really shiny penny on the sidewalk and by a penny i mean an article on this very subject and by the sidewalk i mean the internet which is a treasure trove for resouces
TG: im actually 90% sure that the internet is where you got your first ladyboner for the finer points of the human mind
TG: and im taking this resounding silence as a yes
TG: lets explore
TG: survivors of sexual assault can experience severe and chronic symptoms of ptsd, such as:
TG: body aches
TG: fatigue
TG: flashbacks
TG: headaches
TG: insomnia
TG: nightmares
TG: survivors experience of ptsd might include:
TT: I get it.
TG: avoidance, such as avoiding thoughts or feelings of the traumatic event (emotional avoidance), staying away from reminders of the trauma such as people, places, objects, or situations, and resisting conversations about what happened
TG: intrusive symptoms, such as repeated, unwanted memories of the event, recurrent nightmares, and flashbacks
TG: increased arousal, such as trouble falling or staying asleep, being easily startled or fearful, trouble concentrating, and hypervigilance to surroundings, and potential threats to safety
TT: Stop.
TG: changes in thoughts and feelings, such as ongoing, distorted beliefs about oneself or others, recurrent feelings of fear, horror, anger, guilt, shame, or hopelessness, loss of interest in once enjoyable activities, feeling detached from others or struggling to maintain close relationships, and difficulty experiencing positive feelings like joy or satisfaction
TT: Stop.
TG: ok
TG: how about i list the physical shit instead
TG: and we can see if thats more your cup of tea
TG: a sexual assault can bring on a number of chronic physical conditions, which are also common among people with ptsd. survivors of sexual assault have been found to be more likely to experience:
TG: arthritis
TT: Please stop.
TG: oh wow
TG: weve upgraded to a please
TG: did i say please?
TG: i dont remember
TG: chronic pelvic pain
TG: digestive problems
TG: intense premenstrual symptoms
TG: good thing i dont have the right parts for that huh
TG: and lets see about the last item on this handy little list
TG: oh yeah
TG: non-epileptic seizures
TG: fucking seizures rose!
TT: I said that I was sorry.
TT: In any case, I didn't start this.
TT: Your brother did.
TG: oh wow thanks for pointing that out
TG: youre right im sorry for daring to disrespect the lalonde name
TG: because i was already tainted goods
TG: if my virtue had been intact im sure it wouldve been different
TT: That's not what I meant and you know it.
TG: you reap what you fucking sow
TG: youre lucky im too pathetic and dependent to hold it against you
TG: you think i dont know that you were a scared kid?
TG: you think i dont defend you?
TG: to this day
TG: i havent even told anyone
TG: not a single person not once
TG: never even hinted at it
TG: because i fucking care about you and i care about how our friends see you and i know you werent in a good place
TG: and i know what its like
TG: i really do
TG: except i never actually hurt anyone else with my bullshit
TG: and you did
TG: and now youve got to own up to it
TT: And is that really because you care about me?
TT: Or is it just because you're intent on maintaining my position as your entire support system?
TG: cant it be both?
TT: If you're looking for guilt, I have that in spades.
TT: Not a day goes by that I don't regret doing what I did.
TT: But it's time to move on.
TG: ok
TG: and thats what im saying
TG: i cant
TG: fucking
TG: move on
TG: i cant just snap my fingers and make it go away and neither can you
TG: and you say youre sorry but you still did it repeatedly
TG: did you know that i stopped sleeping?
TG: i would pretend to sleep when you came in just so that you could get the full somno strider experience
TG: just like how bro liked it
TG: but also so you wouldnt fucking worry about me losing sleep
TG: because i was in there all day every day and most of the night too
TG: tell me why i wasnt sleeping
TT: Consult your symptoms list.
TT: I put you through recurring trauma that served the double purpose of re-traumatizing you and reminding you of what your brother put you through.
TT: Opening old wounds, so to speak.
TT: I have a question.
TG: shoot
TG: this towns not big enough for the both of us
TT: Why didn't you ever stop me?
TT: You're trained in several martial arts, and, of course, the art of the blade.
TG: do you really think that id draw a sword on my sister
TT: In self defense?
TT: I definitely wouldn't have blamed you.
TG: no
TG: i know what thats like
TG: i never wanted to hurt you
TT: I know you know how to incapacitate.
TT: So why didn't you?
TT: Why did you let me?
TG: i didnt fucking let you
TG: there was no choice
TT: There's always a choice.
TG: i was scared
TG: with bro it wasnt a choice
TG: i couldnt stop you and half the time i didnt actually want to
TG: are you happy?
TG: is that what you want to hear?
TG: and the cherry on top of this ice cream sundae of fucked up
TG: i
TG: this is so fucking embarrassing
TG: i bet you still like that
TG: dont you?
TT: Yes.
TT: So tell me.
TG: i didnt expect you to actually admit to that
TG: fine
TG: i never wanted to hurt you because i fucking loved you
TG: i loved you ok
TG: i still love you
TT: That's not a reason.
TG: believe it or not it is
TG: for me at least
TG: i loved you and i wanted to make you happy
TG: if i told you i watched romcoms unironically i bet youd believe me
TT: That's neither here nor there.
TG: yeah and neither is any of us
TG: what is here and there is that you fucked me up and now you have to deal with the consequences
TT: And what solution are you proposing?
TG: come back and do it again
TG: im not sleeping
TG: my dick is broken
TG: im tired
TG: my testosterone is down
TG: take pity on a guy
TT: Dave.
TT: You know I can't.
TT: I have a wife.
TG: arent you on break
TG: everyone knows thats code for divorce
TT: No.
TT: We're back together.
TT: If you must know, I promised to cut down on my drinking.
TG: some things never change
TT: That's not fair.
TG: life isnt fair
TG: you know what?
TG: some day
TG: kanaya is going to die
TG: and youre going to be crushed
TG: youre going to try to drink yourself to death
TG: but it wont be heroic or just and so youll have to keep on living until you can find a cause good enough to die for
TG: youll start lashing out
TG: or youll pull a dirk and decapitate yourself thinking maybe this time it will work
TG: and between all of that karkat will die
TG: and terezi will die
TG: just like your wife died
TG: and itll just be you and me and the other six and vriska i guess
TG: and the sprites and cherubs
TG: but none of that matters because youll only have me and ill only have you
TG: you did this
TG: you put one and one together and now you cant subtract or divide your way out of this one
TG: so dont give me that shit
TT: So you're saying that her mortality gives me an excuse to cheat on her?
TT: I love her, Dave.
TT: Were you not just talking about love?
TG: it never stopped you from cheating on her before
TT: Your dick is not more important than my marriage.
TG: and your cooch isnt more important than my fucking safety
TG: yet here we are
TT: Is an apology not good enough?
TG: no
TG: and it never will be
TT: So wait.
TT: We have the rest of eternity and we can't have a meaningful relationship built on this.
TT: I don't think either of us are hung up on incest at this point.
TG: yeah its a bit late for that
TG: so
TG: youre not even going to try to fix this?
TT: If you'll never forgive me either way, what's the point?
TG: how are you married to a hot suave goth vampire alien
TG: you suck
TT: If I suck, why do you want me so badly?
TG: probably because you hurt me
TG: i figure its about as paradoxical as the rest of our existence
TG: but damn i really hate that you wont even try
TT: I can't.
TG: what does that even mean
TT: I don't know.
TT: It's so big.
TT: I don't even know where to start.
TT: And, no offense, but I don't think that either of us are equip to begin, what with our stunning track records.
TG: are you drinking?
TT: No.
TT: Maybe.
TT: Yes.
TT: How did you know?
TG: youre being honest for once
TT: Touche.
TG: rose?
TT: Yes?
TG: could you at least visit?
TG: nothing has to happen
TG: i just miss you and i hate that i miss you
TT: Are you drinking?
TG: yeah
TG: i miss you
TT: Dave?
TG: what
TT: You're not drinking.
TT: It's just a handy excuse.
TG: please
TG: ill go over to your place
TG: ill sit five feet away
TG: supervised
TT: I don't want you in my home.
TG: fine
TG: okay
TG: i guess ill just wait for literal fucking eternity
TT: Someday I'll be able to try.
TT: I'm so sorry.
TT: I'm sorry.
TG: thats still not good enough
TT: I know.
-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --
TT: Daaaaaaaave.
TT: Daveyyyy.
TT: Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaave.
TT: This is fun!!
TT: I see why Virska does her letetrs so long...
TT: *Leters
TT: *Letters
TG: no
TG: go away
TT: Aww but :( I was thininking about you.
TT: A lott.
TT: So muhchhh.
TT: I miss yiuuu.
TG: no
TG: i dont want to talk to drunk rose
TG: im calling the police and by the police i mean your goddamn wife
TT: Plesae dont..
TT: I dont' want to talk to ehr right niw.
TT: *her
TT: *ihr
TT: Ihr is german for 'you'.
TT: Feminitne you.
TG: feminitne
TG: i thought you were doing better
TG: this is just like being 15 again
TG: and i dont know about you but i sure as fuck dont want to be 15 again
TT: Aww it woulndt be so badd!!
TT: We coudl spend time togehter again.
TT: Wonk
TG: drink some water rose
TT: Dont leaveme Dvae.
TT: Please dont leave mr.
TT: *me
TG: i dont know any dvae
TG: hope you find who youre looking for
TT: No!!!!
TT: Stop!
TT: Il'l sober up dont leave me please dont.
TT: I dont want to bea lone again.
TT: *Be alone
TT: Please
TG: did kanaya ask for another break
TT: Yea :(
TT: I dont nkow what im doing worng Dave.
TT: I just wantt o be happy i ust want to be happy i want Kanaya to eb haprry.
TT: *Happy
TT: I miss when i could Make her hapy.
TT: Did I ever make her happy?
TG: i dont think i can answer that
TT: Im making you uncomfortabel.
TT: I'm srryr Im drinkign water.
TT: I'll be okay soonnnnnnnnnfnhjmujuh
TG: rose
TG: rose
TG: rose
TG: i
TG: jegus
TG: im coming over
TG: hope youre decent
-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
Rose wakes up when her face is hoisted off of her keyboard, attached to the f key by a fine gossamer strand of drool.
"Do you know how dangerous that was?" Someone asks. "If you had thrown up you would’ve been face down in your own vomit and you would’ve drowned, and I don’t know about you and your thoughts and opinions but that seems like a pretty damn pathetic way to go."
She lists to the side as he spins the chair around to face him.
It’s Dave. He looks frazzled.
"’T’s not so bad," she slurs, gesturing vaguely to herself. "Can’t die, r’member?"
The tie holding her robe shut loosens. Cleavage makes an appearance. Dave flusters. Unless her eyes deceive her, he's half hard in his pants.
"Pavloved you," she mumbles.
He arranges her flyaway arms in a loop around his shoulders – the soft downy skin of his nape feels like heaven against her forearms. When she turns her head into the crook of his neck, she vaguely notes that he hasn’t showered in a long, long time, and then he lifts her and carries her by the waist to the couch, keeping contact at a minimum and breaking her train of thought in the process.
She wants his hands cupping her ass. He’s chivalrous to a fault, keeping things professional, a touch to the waist – it’s like ballroom dancing. She thinks that if she danced with him she'd make him follow, since they're both the same height. They're not dancing now, he’s holding her, like a lover, and she wants him to touch her lower. She wants him to take, but not really. She wants to tell him what to do, but he could still touch her ass, she's not a monster – or, maybe she is. Or maybe she was. She's still chanting in her head for him to make it a reality.
"Noooo," she says to herself, because she's not a kid or a monster any longer and she's . . . married. She's married. She really, really doesn't want to be married.
"Davey?" She says, oh-so-sweetly. "Pour me another drink?"
He drops her onto the couch and she whines. She reaches for him. He blinks a foot to the side.
"I used to be so scared of you like this," he says. She thinks that she catches the bitter edge of scorn in his voice.
"Don’t be scared."
"I’m not."
She's patient as he stumbles around her quaint little kitchen that was never big enough for him. Everything's bigger in Texas. There is no room that can contain her brother. She watches him stumble through pastel walls and lace curtains that she watched her wife make for her home. She doubts that Dave could make lace curtains.
He retrieves a cup and runs one of her nice tea towels under water. She doesn't realize that it's cold until the towel smacks against her forehead and the overflow sends its icy fingers down her cheeks. She lets out an undignified little shriek. The warm embrace of her wine recedes and she hates him for it. She scoops the towel off of her forehead to hurl at the opposing wall, a hit and a miss.
"Where did your wife go?" He asks, no-nonsense. There’s the stone that his brother put in him – a crumbling defense that he scrapes together when he feels particularly out of his depth. If she could get a look underneath his glasses, she knows that she’d find wide eyes with pink-stained whites from lack of sleep.
"Not sure," she says petulantly. "Probably to her moirail."
"I’ll be here until she gets back."
He sits just out of reach with his arms crossed as a final defense. She wishes that he wouldn’t.
It’s been two months since he told Rose that he loved her. She's still not sure what love is, and so she doubts that he knows either – he doesn’t look at her. He’s disgusted by her. How could he ever love her?
There is darkness at her margins, threatening to uncurl and strangle her again, dragging her below the surface kicking and screaming. Her fingernails have gone grimdark-gray. Sometimes it syncs up with her cycle – she gets the feeling that her PMS is worse than most. A touch would ground her, she hates to think about the encroaching margin of gray. Thinking about it makes it worse. She realizes could use his love for the his idea of Rose Lalonde to get him to hold her, she could use him to make it better again.
But it’s been so long. She's better now – or, she should be better. Married life is her yellow wallpaper. It’s for her health, it’s tearing her apart.
"She wants me to talk to her," she tells Dave before she loses the excuse of alcohol.
"I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that that’s part of the whole marriage deal. Talking to your spouse comes with the package. Read the fine print of your vows a little better next time."
"I can’t," she whispers. "I can’t just . . . talk to her."
He twists the knife inside of her. "That really reminds me of the last time that you said you couldn’t do something."
You’re the problem, is the unspoken shadow to his words. You ruin all your relationships with sarcasm and refusal to try. Your mind is a patch of briars. You keep people out for their own good but they’re only hurt worse for it.
Or maybe that’s all her.
She's reading into things again.
She needs a drink.
"Thanks for not jumping me," he says. "Yet, at least. Great restraint."
Her mouth is dry. Her head is starting to throb, a dizzying tide of nausea. He hands her the glass of water like he’s reading her mind. Greedy, she drinks too fast. Chokes. Coughs sour bile up onto the carpet. When was the last time she ate? There are tears blurring her eyes. She aborts a sob in her throat, but the broken pieces of it leave as a choked exhale and suddenly she's crying so hard her throat burns from more than just vomit and she can’t see anything and his arms are around her, steady and firm. He smells like fear sweat. He’s so solid. He’s so good to her. The little part of herself that she still hates so dearly tells her that this is a flawless manipulation. She's been given exactly what she needs.
Rose dry heaves two more times before she's completely sober. Dave manages to burn toast for her and cooks her over-easy eggs over-solid. She licks butter off of her fingers one at a time. He doesn’t take anything for himself. The gray refuses to recede. Around noon, Kanaya’s icon blinks in her inbox.
-- grimAuxiliatrix [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
GA: I Am At Karkats
GA: I Hope That You Are Doing Well
GA: Please Let Me Know If You Need Anything Other Than Space
GA: I Love You Dearly
-- grimAuxiliatrix [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
She can’t bring herself to answer.
"I can’t," is beginning to feel like her mantra.
Her brother stands outside the shower stall while she cleans herself. It is equal parts sweet and infuriating, so she tells herself that he only wants to see her naked.
"You should shower too," Rose says, gentle but firm through the fogged glass. Her voice echoes strangely. Her shoulders are beginning to loosen.
"Believe me, if I wanted to smell like flowers, your house would be my first stop."
She stretches to give him a better silhouette. "Lavender body wash will not emasculate you."
"Jotting that down in my fragile masculinity notebook next to the section on classical music."
"Most of the composers that history remembers are male," sweetly-scented suds circle the drain. "In any case, you smell like depression. Maybe if you shower you’ll feel more like yourself."
When he says, "I’ll do it when I get home," it occurs to her that he may consider wearing her scent a mark of ownership. She almost throws up again, right into the shower, and then she almost laughs about it. At least it would be easy to clean up.
To avert the coming crisis, she turns the dial all the way to the left so that the heat can’t make her dizzy any longer. Cold, then off. In her honeymoon phase, Rose knelt on the tiles of this shower and gave Kanaya her mouth until she was hot and open and spilling down her face.
She can’t remember the last time she had sex.
Outside of the shower, Dave holds her towel out with one hand and shades his sunglasses with the other. He’s not peeking.
Dave leaves her alone when she asks him to. Because she can’t stand to find nothing where her wife should be, she sets herself up in the guest bed in a room modeled after the place where she slept every night for thirteen years. It’s hardly better.
Her guest is playing something in the other room – the only thing that carries through the wall is a strong beat that she attempts to anchor her heartbeat to. She doesn't sleep. She's too busy thinking about all the sleep that Dave has lost on her behalf and nursing a hangover without the option of her usual cure.
"Do you have any games here?" Dave asks on the second day. His phone is charging on the table beside the couch. He’s slouched low in an armchair that faces her flatscreen television.
"We have Scrabble in three different alphabets."
Her brother shakes his head in abject defeat. She hopes that refusing to offer him distractions will make him go away. Instead, he takes to scrawling on all of her printer paper. His mess creeps across the kitchen table. She sets her jaw. He’s never distracted enough for her to take what she needs.
She's not sure what she needs anymore.
One night she wakes up and he’s watching her from her desk chair – or, at least, she thinks that he’s watching her. She can’t see his eyes. He’s a statue at the foot of her bed.
The night softens her sharper edges. She sits up, keeping her movements slow and sleep-loose until she's seated parallel to her bedframe. She twines their fingers together. He shakes on the exhale.
"Rose . . ."
"I won’t hurt you."
In the past, he’d freeze. This time, he flees.
Dave’s skin goes sallow. He camps next to her wine rack. He’s on high alert around Rose, he’s torn through the skin of his cheek and the blood is on his teeth when he smiles like a cornered animal. He won’t eat. He won’t sleep. He won’t go back to his own house.
She hears him talking to himself through the walls – strange, rhyming threads of cognition that weave together into a great big mess of a tapestry that she lays over herself when it’s time to sleep.
Exactly a week after his arrival, she cooks the last pork chop and serves it up on plates to Kanaya’s taste – there are rabbits in bonnets and suit jackets frollicking around the rim. Dave cuts the meat into tiny pieces that he pretends to nibble at. She watches him as he watches her. He’s mimicking the way that she chews – it’s a mockery, and of all things, this is the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
"Why won’t you eat?" She snaps. She's been good, refraining from drinking at all. As a result, her miserable shadow is beginning to feel like a jailor.
He skips denial, too tired for pretenses. "Pork’s not really my thing," he shrugs her off.
She briefly entertains a fantasy of holding him down and forcing her food down his throat. She’d chew it for him, all he’d have to do is swallow.
"So what is your thing? I haven’t seen you eat since you got here."
He shrugs again, betrayed by the line of tension drawing taut across his shoulders.
"Dave," she draws shis name out of her arsenal like a weapon. The tone is familiar to him. She's hit her mark – his mouth curls into something ugly and defensive. Rose's augmented mind supplies her with a helpful vision – Dave, between the ages of ten and twelve. He lifts up his shirt to inspect the bruises staining his torso, creating a mental catalog of what he’s done wrong and what he can do better in the future. His skin clings to his ribs. He’s hunger-lean – too young to build muscle, too old to retain the final reserves of baby fat.
He’s lucky that they’re only bruises today. Whenever he bends, the slash across his back reopens and stains the white of his shirt an ugly rusted red. If he could keep it still, maybe it would heal neatly. Since he does not have that luxury, he wraps it with bandages around his ribcage because he can’t stitch what’s behind his back.
The sun is setting – it’s another brilliant, full-bodied Texas sunset that trickles in through the mirrored maze of skyscrapers. It might burn him, it has before. He keeps his eyes down until it’s fully set because he can’t afford to lose his vision.
With his vision intact, it’s time for dinner. He checks the room for new cameras, slow and methodical. The light fixture is the first, most obvious place, and then he turns his attention to the transparent jars that he keeps cluttered across the shelves. He closes his tabs and shuts down his computer in case Bro has hacked the webcam again.
It’s a fun game. He plays it every night.
Once his safety is assured, he opens the door of his closet with a painstaking precision, fingers crossed that the hinges won’t whine. If he’s slow enough, if he’s careful enough, he will eat tonight. He exhales once his treasure trove is open, guarding it from sight with his body. It’s still here, behind his discarded laundry and a shoebox of keepsakes – his shelf-stable stash. He’s rationing. He’ll permit himself a snack-sized bag of Doritos tonight and, to keep his blood sugar up, half a bottle of apple juice.
"Regression," she diagnoses.
"Shut up," he says, inflectionless, lifting his fork to his mouth just to prove her wrong. He chokes on his bite. Spits it into his cup. Keeps broken eye contact as he does it again, again, again. Chewed pork floats in unappetizing chunks, muddying his water. She sets her jaw and wonder why he gets to have his vices.
"You should know better than to waste food."
The next morning, there’s their new planet’s equivalent of Doritos in a heavy wooden bowl meant for fruit set out on the table. The carapacian postal service works quickly and discreetly.
Recognizing it for the bait that it is, Dave steers clear.
-- grimAuxiliatrix [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
GA: Is Everything Alright At The Hive
TT: Yes.
GA: Im Glad
GA: I Feel As Though Ive Outstayed My Welcome
GA: And So If It Isnt Any Trouble Ill Be Returning Home Shortly
TT: My darling Kanaya, this is our home.
TT: It does not belong to either of us exclusively.
GA: Forgive Me
TT: I wouldn't dream of forgiving you for something that you haven't done wrong.
GA: I Appreciate It
GA: I Love You
-- grimAuxiliatrix [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --
"I’ll wait until she’s back to pass you off."
"I’m not a child," she tells him, tamping down a whine that would threaten to prove her wrong.
"No, but you are an alcoholic."
"You’re no better."
"If I let you get drunk right before your wife comes back from the war, what kind of brother would I be?"
He’s camped out in the armchair facing the flatscreen television, something that he has claimed as his own. Rose glares at him from the sofa. "I don’t need supervision."
Dave says nothing.
He’s there when the door opens. Kanaya brings the sound of windchimes inside with her from the porch. She gives Rose the swish of her skirt, her fine alien mint, and her jangling keychains. Rose is flooded with the familiar calm before the storm, but also the cold realization that she really did miss her wife, the woman who is always too good to her – Kanaya always has been and always will be and Dave is right, in a sense – Rose never stopped waging domestic warfare, Kanaya just doesn’t fight back.
"I was not expecting visitors," says the head of her household.
"He refuses to leave," Rose says, tight-lipped and expecting Kanaya to get the hint. Dave kicks his feet up on the coffee table and gives her wife a static little wave.
"No matter. He’s welcome here."
Kanaya never was good with hints.
She offers him tea, which he politely refuses, and though Rose knows that it’s not, it feels scathing, pointed – why didn’t she offer him tea? Why wasn't she a gracious host? He scraped her up off of the ground and molded her back into something vaguely human, but she never asked to be molded, she never asked Dave to put himself through the gauntlet that is Rose Lalonde again and again. It’s not fair that he gives so much more than he takes.
She hates them both, then. They stick to her and refuse to let go, it’s making her go gray, fingers and toes, the chasm is opening again and it’s all their fault. If they want to play house, they can. She stands abruptly to leave without any of the skirt swishing or fine alien mint or jangling keychains. She slams the door and she's gone.