Commandant Flynn Scifo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thinkfirst) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deercountry2022-02-10 11:13 am
thinkfirst) wrote in deercountry2022-02-10 11:13 am
Entry tags:
[closed] back when we were kids
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.
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.
no subject
[ He doesn't know, doesn't remember. He can feel Flynn's anger, and it just makes him more tired than he already is. He pushes his hair back with a sigh. He remembers his own anger, his fear, tearing at those zealots, and can almost feel blood in his mouth.
He looks down at his hands. Hands that have seen so much blood, that have caused so much death. ]
no subject
What then? Is that when you were captured?
no subject
[ It's true. He doesn't remember it, it didn't happen in the dream. He fought those zealots, then he woke up on the table. Minutes, hours, days, he doesn't know how much time he lost ]
What's this for, Flynn? You interrogating me or something?
no subject
[ Like Flynn has ever interrogated someone in his life. Like he's any good at it. There is no annoyance here, only sadness and affection and that lingering guilt. ]
I just want to know what happened so you're not carrying it alone.
no subject
Flynn is trying to help him. He's trying to help get all of this out of Yuri's head, and Yuri nods slowly. He can do that. He can let go of that part of him that's certain that Flynn doesn't approve of anything he does.
With a heavy sigh, he shifts closer, taking what feels like a risk to let his head fall to Flynn's shoulder, to let Flynn carry some of his weight, literally as well as figuratively. Show Flynn that he trusts him.
He does. He does trust Flynn. He trusts him with everything, everything, but it doesn't mean he isn't scared, an undercurrent in their interactions, in everything they do, that something will be too much, the same fear he felt last week when Flynn asked him about his life, before, his time in the lower quarter. And Flynn stayed, supported him, bonded himself to him.
Why? Why does Flynn put up with this? Why does he want to carry more than he already is? For Yuri? Is it love? The words Flynn murmurs to him when he thinks Yuri is asleep, that settle uncomfortably warm in Yuri's chest. Why can't he accept that Flynn loves him? He loves Flynn, he loves him deeply, truly, loves him and would do anything for him. He would give up his life for Flynn without a second thought. But the other way around, Flynn protecting him, Flynn loving him, Flynn sacrificing for him? Maybe it's because in Yuri's eyes, Flynn is bright, a shining sun, and Yuri is nothing but a shadow, barely anything at all.
What happened to him, it was horrible. It haunts him, that he was so weak, so helpless, that he needed saving. It haunts him still, and he doesn't want anyone else to have to feel that way, never, if he can help it, especially not Flynn.
But Flynn wants to help, wants to hear it, as if that will help and, well. Maybe it will. Maybe it will help. Maybe unearthing it, giving it voice, will untangle it from his heart. ]
Yeah. [ He manages to say it, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of Flynn, familiar and steadying, his body solid and warm ] Yeah, I... I was caught. They put me on that table. They took my blood. I couldn't, couldn't get free. [ His voice catches again, hands fisting in the sheets ] I couldn't get free.
no subject
That's what he's offering, isn't it? Listening, taking some of those things into himself: letting Yuri lean warm and heavy on his shoulder and recount those things for Flynn to hear. This close, he can follow that shining, meandering thread of Yuri's thoughts all the way through. That he wants to trust but that he's afraid, that there is still an echo of Flynn's younger, angrier judgment there. Yuri is afraid, it seems, that Flynn will really look at him, that there's something he missed, that he'll turn away, like when he looks at Yuri he sees anything but the most important person in the world.
But he hasn't done a very good job of showing that, has he? He was afraid, too. That Yuri wouldn't want to hold everything that Flynn felt, that the things he felt had no place, that Yuri wanted to tear himself free of everything they built.
How much of this did they get wrong because of all that fear?
It's a question for another day, maybe, because Yuri's leaning on him with a cracking voice and so much fear welling up in him, and Flynn asked him for that. The least he can do is turn his face and press his nose into Yuri's hair and stay there, breathing and solid, here for him, at the very least, right now. ]
I never got a good answer. I don't suppose any answer would have been good enough to justify that, but I—I don't know why I was taken away from it, and you weren't.
no subject
He nods, glad that Flynn isn't pulling away, that he's there with Yuri, that he doesn't feel any repulsion or anger in Flynn in all. Just sadness, a similar exhaustion to Yuri. ]
Got out. Kaeya helped.
no subject
[ At least someone did.
At least Yuri wasn't entirely alone.
It aches, thinking about him in that place. Yuri is so contained, normally, doesn't let his fear show if he can help it. If he was so afraid and exhausted as to be fighting against his bonds like he was—
Well, Flynn felt it, didn't he? He pushes a kiss against Yuri's head, knowing that it's useless, hating that. ]
You shouldn't have been left behind, Yuri.
no subject
But he isn't strong enough to act on that thought. He isn't strong enough to pull away. He stays here, leaning against Flynn, accepting that kiss because sometimes, in this place, it feels like that's all he has. He has the love of Flynn and his friends. It's the only thing that keeps him tethered, grounded. He has Flynn and Blue and their little house, a life that they've worked so hard to create among all of this, everything happening around them.
Maybe that can be enough. ]