[closed] back when we were kids

[thinkfirst]

Who: Flynn & Yuri
What: having a much-needed conversation they should have had a while ago
When: February 9th
Where: their house in Crenshaw

Content Warnings: Mentions of sad teen angst and sad teen fights and also maybe day-drinking, who knows what these boys got up to

Flynn leaves camp a little early that day.

His ride with Daisy was enough to clear his head a little, enough to get him through a day of working through strategies with the engineers over in the mechyard, but Flynn knows himself well enough by now to know that he's certainly distracted. His thoughts keep straying to Yuri and the flippancy in his voice, the insistence that he hadn't done anything with that time.

Flynn doesn't know, is the thing. He knows a little of what Yuri was up to in the Lower Quarter, knows about his actions and their consequences and the gossip that had chased after him in their wake (wasn't that your friend, Flynn?; those Lower Quarter brutes just need a firm hand; a hundred other phrases that had burrowed under his skin like termites, that Flynn had gritted his teeth and smiled through). He has no idea what Yuri felt about all those years. He doesn't even know how Yuri feels, really, about—

About everything. The way they left things, what felt like the end of their friendship, the ragged chasm between them that made Flynn question everything that they were. They've built a bridge over all of that, and it feels solid beneath Flynn's feet, but peeking over the edge is a terrifying thing, which of course means that they should probably just jump into it the way brave people do in the face of terror.

The conversation didn't start there, of course. It started somewhere so ridiculous, so—Yuri.

But Flynn is walking into it, bundled up with hearty greens and early potatoes, a few soft onions left over from the year before, and some hard cheese with an interesting profile that Yuri hadn't put on the list but that Flynn figured he might like. He could have used the lamps to come home and been there in an instant, but the walk through the oddly-sunny afternoon, buffeted by cold wind, has been helpful. He lingered a little in the market, talking to the vendors, learning about their business and their worries and the things they wanted changed. Now, with the sun just starting to sink below the jumbled roofs of Crenshaw, he finally shoves open their creaking little gate.

Their tiny patch of front garden is overgrown. Flynn thinks about his promise to Blue to plant seeds there, notes that he needs to get some seeds for them along with oil for the gate, and pushes open the door while Daisy vanishes into smoke and simply reappears on the other side, apparently impatient to get into the warmth.

"It was going to take two seconds," he tells her, grinning, and Daisy simply reappears, much smaller, and trots on delicate hooves into the kitchen to find Repede. Flynn shakes his head and shuts out the cold evening behind.

Comments

[vibing]

Yuri is regretting his choices. This isn't really new for him, he often does things without thinking, and then has to catch up with the consequences later. What's weird about this is that he did think about it, and thinking about it is what led him to say, yes, Flynn, let's talk about some of the worst years of my life. They don't even really feel real, sometimes, when he thinks about it. He just woke up, he would help Miriam with the breakfast rush, he would hang out with Repede in their room, maybe drink if he felt like it, see what he could do around the quarter, probably get into a fight, maybe get thrown in the dungeon, then do it all over again. It's not like it's a fun conversation. It's not like he's proud of it.

Please. I want to know keeps rattling around in his mind. Such simple words that are making Yuri want to disappear (why are you afraid? Why don't you want him to know you?) (I don't want him to see me and realize I'm not worth all this) (what if he sees you and decides you're worth more). The thoughts keep coming into his mind, unheeded, and he can't stop them, questioning his thoughts, his feelings. He can't stop them, even when he tries. He's on edge, just waiting for Flynn to get back from the beach. Part of him wants Flynn to take his time, and part of him just wants to get this over with.

Maybe if Flynn knows, then he'll leave. He'll give up on Yuri. He almost wants that to happen. It's what he wanted to happen back home, with that dark part of himself. He'd given up, why hadn't Flynn?

He hears the telltale sound of Daisy's hooves and the door opening and he lets out a breath. Time to face the music, so to speak. Running would be cowardly, like he did in Heliord. Now, he's not going to. Flynn can make his choice. He can see all of Yuri and choose, one way or another.

He turns away from the kitchen window, where he was supposedly cleaning dishes, but really just staring into the snowy backyard, to face Flynn.

[thinkfirst]

Tension hangs thick enough to cut through.

Daisy veers off to the fireplace where Repede is settled, abandoning both of them to their conversation, which leaves Flynn—bootless and still laden with food—hovering in the doorway to their little kitchen. Behind Yuri is a pile of dishes that must have been from lunch, most of them still dirty, and a sink full of water that tells a story in its own right.

Flynn lets out a slight breath, tries to unwind the matching tension in his own belly, and fails. Which is bad. They can't have a conversation like this pitched against each other, head-to-head: that's a battle like the one a few days ago, not a talk. Maybe that was their problem all along. Flynn is certainly better with swords than he is with words, and he turns things into fights where he shouldn't. They can't talk like this, so—

"I looked at that drawing again on the way home," he says, aiming for casual, and drops the bags of vegetables on the table to come join Yuri. Flynn can wash. He's better at it anyway, and it should help ease some of the nervous tension in his muscles.

[vibing]

Yuri moves out of the way, toweling off his hands as he leans back against the counter. That, at least, breaks him out of his mood a little. "Oh yeah? Pretty inspiring stuff, huh?"

He glances at Flynn with a flicker of a smile. Is that going to be ruined too? Of course it is, if Flynn doesn't want to be around him anymore, of course that means that they aren't going to have sex anymore (don't jump to that conclusion, let him decide for himself). It's not like he even really cared about all that stuff before Flynn, which is exactly why they're having this conversation. Because Flynn can't leave well enough alone. He never could.

[thinkfirst]

Flynn snorts, cutting just a little bit more through some of the tension with the sound. Yuri's smiling at him, so it can't be that bad.

"I don't know if I'd say inspiring but I definitely haven't stopped thinking about it," he says, casual as anything, and flicks on the water. It burbles out already-hot and Flynn lets himself just feel it for a moment, lets it warm the frozen tips of his fingers until he realizes he's just sitting there and needs to be, you know. Cleaning.

[vibing]

"Sounds pretty inspiring to me," Yuri's eyes flick away. Is that it? Is that what their relationship could be? Just sex? Yuri doesn't know if he could do that. He's too emotionally attached, but maybe... Maybe if that's all he can get.

He crosses his arms over his chest, tension clear in his shoulders. "Still wanna try it?"

[thinkfirst]

"I have no idea," Flynn says honestly, his lips tilting at the corners. It really wasn't a very instructional drawing and he has no idea how it would really work in practice—his offer of trying it was half a joke and half warm curiousity—but that also isn't the point of this conversation. "Not until we've talked more about... how you even know all these things. Where did you pick it up? Was it really Raven?"

[vibing]

Yuri huffs a laugh, bowing his head. His hair falls to cover his face. "Yeah, Raven. That guy's a pervert."

But, that isn't really what Flynn's asking. And he's trying to actually talk to him. Get it all out there, let Flynn decide. Even if it means Flynn will leave him, at least it'll be over with. "And some guys in the lower quarter. They would talk a lot of shit about girls."

[thinkfirst]

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," Flynn breathes. The Lower Quarter could really band together and become a true community, better than any community the nobility could play at, but some people really had given up and become the worst versions of themselves. Flynn can't really blame them, but he knows they existed. They loved to hit on Yuri, particularly.

But what can he say about any of that? Trying to talk to Yuri about those years has always resulted in a fight, and there is a fragile bubble of peace around them right now. Flynn scrubs at a particularly stubborn bit of food, frowning at the soap. It smells a little like flowers. Maybe that's the roses blooming unseasonally just outside the kitchen window, turning the edges of their view red.

What can he say that won't turn this into a fight? What if Yuri pulls away, heads out into the dark night because Flynn said the wrong thing, again—he can see it, suddenly: harsh words shattering all over the ground, water everywhere, Flynn red-faced and angry and Yuri dismissive, barely looking at him, spitting words that cut as deep as they ever did. Yuri looks up from under his hair and tells Flynn he figured this couldn't work, and whirls on his heel before Flynn can say anything else about it.

[vibing]

It's quiet for a little too long, the sound of cleaning dishes pausing, and Yuri looks over at Flynn, who's just standing there, staring at the water, his eyes glowing a strange pale glow.

He frowns and drops his arms, taking a step toward him. "Flynn? You, uh. You alright?"

[thinkfirst]

Reality crashing back in is never a pleasant thing after one of these visions. Water splashes up off the plate at the same time Yuri moves, and Flynn startles, jerking back, splashing himself a little more—

Yuri. Right there, concerned, not out in the backyard leaving him behind.

"—ah," Flynn says, a little lost, shaking his head to try and dislodge the odd ringing sound high in his ears. Yuri fuzzes out for a moment and then returns to where he's standing. "...vision. That... keeps happening. Don't worry, it's gone."

[vibing]

Right, that. Flynn's been having them, about the ocean, about the monster, about mundane things. What does it mean that he had one now? Yuri watches him for a long moment, and he wants to do something, he wants to support him somehow, but he has no idea how. He just stands there, watching him uselessly, his hands clenching on the edge of the countertop.

"Bad one?"

[thinkfirst]

"No," Flynn says immediately, wincing at the dark at the edges of his vision, and then, "well, yes, but—no. Just..."

Disappointing. Frustrating, entirely too real. Is that how this conversation is necessarily going to end? Flynn second-guessing himself, tripping on his own words right into all the soft spots Yuri doesn't want touched? He knows what those soft spots are: once, he knew better than to prod them too much. Only on purpose, only to get a rise out of Yuri. Flynn lets the dish run under water. Soap runs clear.

He lets out a breath. "I saw us get into a fight about this, and honestly, I'm not sure how to avert that. I suppose there's a reason we've never talked about it."

[vibing]

Yuri is a little taken aback by that, by Flynn just saying it, by that level of honesty. Is that what he wants from Yuri? Yeah, yeah, that tracks. He wants that, probably.

At least he's giving it in return.

"I don't want to fight," he says, and it's mostly true. He doesn't want to, he doesn't want to argue with Flynn, he just wants... he wants it out there. He wants Flynn to make his choice, even if he leaves (you don't know that he will. Trust him). "I just-- I don't know what you're going to get out of this."

February 19th, 3 am; cw: blood and torture

[vibing]

[ Yuri doesn't talk about what happened to him in November. He doesn't talk about it, but it's there, at the back of his mind, a floating, painful thing that he doesn't want to acknowledge, that he doesn't want to discuss, that he doesn't want to talk about.

But he can't control his dreams. He can't control what his mind surfaces, what it wants him to deal with while he's asleep. Memories of the Sleeper Farm have been bubbling up, on and off, this month, and mostly Yuri has still ignored it, even though that little voice in his head has told him that he should deal with it, he should trust someone with it. That he wasn't weak for what happened to him, that it wasn't his fault, but he can't help but think that it was, because Flynn, Lysithea, they were whisked right out of there, and he wasn't. He was left there, to be hurt, to be drained, and he doesn't know why. Why him? Why wouldn't the Moon take pity on him?

In his dream, he's back in the Farm, he's strapped to the table, the scars on his arms, which he keeps covered up most of the time, are open and bleeding, but red blood this time, red blood instead of the icy blue blood he had when he was there. He's strapped to the table and trying to fight back, the Farm around him a stark white, the zealots not in sight, but he knows they're there. They're there, and they're going to come and collect the blood, they're going to want more.

Red blood drips from his arms, his sides, his legs, running slowly down the cold table to pool at the bottom, funneling into a bucket on the floor. He can hear the drip drip drip and he can't do anything about it. The more he moves, the more the blood flows, the more he fights, the more he loses, and he thrashes, letting out a roaring scream.

In their bed, next to Flynn, Yuri's body moves in his sleep, his brows furrowed, teeth gritted. He feels trapped, terrified, furious, hurt, abandoned, and those feelings are apparent even in his sleep. ]

[thinkfirst]

[ Mostly, Flynn's dreams are flooded with saltwater.

That wasn't always the case. Before the change, before his blood was pale and full of feeling, Flynn dreamt about normal nonsensical things like Alexei reaching out a hand from the top of Zaude, or being told he'd failed the entrance tests to the knights after all, or Yuri running away, leaving bloody footprints in his wake while Flynn sank deeper and deeper into sucking sand.

Normal dreams, the sort that must plague anyone, he had thought.

And then the change, and the flood of saltwater, the constancy of Zaude and Yuri falling, over and over, into dark water: Flynn would search and search and in the dream come upon only seaweed that looked like hair, or a bit of driftwood. In those dreams, Yuri never comes back.

This is new.

Particularly because it had started as all his dreams have recently: Zaude, and the whipping wind, and red blooming on Alexei's chest. Sodia's face twisted, three faces layered over hers at once, and Yuri's shock as he fell.

This time, Flynn jumps after him. Something about Yuri's fear, his terror and his helplessness, shoves Flynn over the edge, desperate to do something about the flood of awful feeling. He leaps off the top after Yuri's outstretched hand, trying to grasp his fingers like that will help, and plunges into the waves. Salt and cold hit him at once: Flynn sucks in a breath, closes his eyes against the sting of it, and opens them in a pure-white room.

No.

Not pure-white.

White like the inside of the castle, stained dark with red blood, and— ]

Yuri!

[ Strapped to a table, furious and thrashing, strapped down. Flynn is at his side faster than logic should allow, pulling at the straps because his sword is not there. ]

[vibing]

[ This is different than the other times he's dreamed this. He isn't fully aware of that, his mind still fully immersed in the dream, not aware that that's what it is. He looks up at Flynn, and his fear spikes. Flynn shouldn't be here. Flynn got away. Flynn shouldn't be here, they'll get him too, they'll get him and Yuri can't do anything, Yuri can't help him. He's stuck, helpless, at the mercy of these people ]

Flynn.

[ His voice is low and hoarse and he pushes himself up more, trying to get to Flynn, even though he can't, even though he's stuck there, stuck and trapped and his breath is gone from his body ]

Flynn, get out of here!

[thinkfirst]

No.

[ There is some layer of Flynn aware this is a dream, some part of himself locked away from the rest of him. Were he experienced, perhaps he would pay attention to that part, but this is the first time Flynn has done this and the real and the unreal blur together, unfocused and each fuzzy, sharp only where they overlap.

He lifts one hand, presses Yuri down again, his own breath coming hard and fast. ]

Not without you, not again.

[vibing]

No! They're, they're--

[ Yuri struggles for another moment, but then lets Flynn push him down because Flynn feels so much more solid than everything else in this place, so much more solid, and there's blood on Flynn's hand where he's touching Yuri, blood on his hand even where there wasn't a cut on Yuri's body. His breath is coming too harsh, too fast, but he stares up at Flynn, wanting so desperately for Flynn to be able to help, to get them both out of here. ]

You came back.

[thinkfirst]

[ I didn't, Flynn almost says, I tried but I couldn't, there was nothing—

but the focus is blurring, the two pictures getting farther apart. Flynn reaches for his sword and comes up with nothing, bites down a sharp, frustrated noise. He has to stay calm for Yuri, to combat the fear and anger screaming through him. The bonds aren't moving, are cutting into Flynn's hand as he tugs, tightening under his grip. He grits his teeth. ]

I'm here—

[ He can't say I always will be because that would be a lie, wouldn't it? There is a part of him, that unreal part, several steps to the left of all this, that says this is a dream and also this is that place, the farm, the place he hadn't managed to find, the place he'd hunted for days and days.

But this is a dream.

This is a dream, isn't it?

The knowledge drops icy over him, cutting through his frustration all at once. Flynn sucks in a breath. ]

Yuri, this is, we don't need a knife. This isn't real.

[vibing]

[ The problem is that it feels real to Yuri. It feels very real, and Flynn saying it isn't doesn't help, because the fear and the buried memories of this place are rearing up. The blood runs faster from Yuri's body, staining the jumpsuit that's pulled down around his hips, staining Flynn's hands and arms ]

No, I have to, I have to-- we have to get out.

[thinkfirst]

We're going to get out.

[ Flynn puts as much confidence into those words as he can, leaning over Yuri, trying to anchor him with gentle hands. There's so much blood, was there this much blood? Was this what happened? Flynn is breathless with an awful sort of nausea, and all the more determined for it. ]

Yuri, listen to me. Trust me. Please. I can't get these off, but you can, this is a dream.

[vibing]

No, it's--

[ Yuri looks up at him, meeting his eyes and-- yeah. Okay. This is Flynn, and Flynn is trying to convince him that this is a dream. Is he really going to argue with Flynn?

No, he's not. He's going to believe Flynn, because he's Flynn. ]

Okay.

[ If it's a dream, then... what? How can he do this? How can he get the straps off of him? He tries to shoulder out of them, but that doesn't get him anywhere, his heart echoing too loud in his ears.

It's a dream ]

I don't know how.

[ He grates out the words, words he would never speak away, but here he is, saying them, and then, suddenly, as it admits defeat, the straps are gone, like they were never there at all. He sucks in a breath, and grabs onto Flynn's hand, using him to pull himself up. ]

[thinkfirst]

[ Flynn clings to him, locking his bones in place so that he is a steady anchor, a pillar to help Yuri to his feet and then to help him stay here. He clings tight to Yuri's blood-slick palm and slides his free arm around the expanse of his back, trying not to feel the seeping warmth.

This is a dream, it isn't Yuri's blood.

But it is, isn't it?

They'll deal with that later. For now, Flynn wraps that solid arm around him, pulls Yuri against his side, and turns them bodily around, away from blood and table and bucket. There isn't a door.

That's fine. One step at a time. Flynn sucks in a breath. ]

Where are we?

[vibing]

That place. The tower.

[ Yuri grips Flynn's arm, unsteady on his feet, and Flynn is solid and sturdy, and somehow Yuri was able to get out of those bonds, somehow he's standing, even as blood still drips from him, leaving a trail from his bare feet ]

Why're you here? You got out.

[ It's almost an accusation. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have to see this. He was safe. He got out. ]

[thinkfirst]

I was pulled out.

[ Flynn corrects softly, the words stinging things, like insects buzzing sharp over his skin. He pulls Yuri a little closer, tries not to smell the copper of blood, and fails. ]

I would have stayed, but we're not staying now. This is your dream: can you make a door?