IC Contact Post

[therushingsky]

"Heyyyy, you've reached the head office of the Atlas Corporation, leave a message and your number, and one of our people will get back to you."

Comments

Voice, private, laterish

[ninefox]

You're right.

I'm sorry.

Text

[therushingsky]

[He doesn't reply quickly. He strangles between asking what he was supposed to be right about, and yelling about how he doesn't accept the apology.

Finally, he picks a mask to stand behind, and replies via text.]

Whatever, dude.

[ninefox]

That's fair.

[And then by text, so Fives won't hear it.]

If you think of some recompense you'd like from me later, let me know.

[therushingsky]

I am never going to get a read on you, am I?

[ninefox]

I literally tied a knot in my soul and set it on fire to stop professional psychic interrogators from getting a read on me, so don't beat yourself up about it.

But if you want to ask me questions, I'll try to answer them.

[therushingsky]

No, dude. I get that. You're whole other galaxies of complicated and dangerous and powerful, and you've suffered pain I can't comprehend, and you've done things I'll never understand. Crowned with eyes. I've read the press release.

But I'm just going to keep forgetting, because you're also-- fucking charming, and gentle, and I get won over and wrapped up in how much I like feeling like we're friends and I just never, never hear the fucking sirens. You can wave red flags right in my face and I'll just think you're cheerleading.

Answering questions, talking about recompense-- I must be the easiest mark in the world because all you have to do is buy yourself time and I'll just fall back in-- into--

[He runs out of words. Doesn't know exactly how to describe what he'll fall back into.]

[ninefox]

I think everyone does things other people will never understand.

I really do like you. And you like to be liked. The fact that I'm a piece of shit who hurts people doesn't mean we weren't really friends. If that risk means it's not worth it to you

[There's a long pause. His voice can't crack in text, but he's clearly struggling for a while with how to continue.]

then honestly I'll be confused and pissed off and hurt, because you'll be friends with *Bill*, after Eyefox knows how much bullshit he's pulled, but that's nonsense because friendship isn't about fair, and I still hurt you horribly. You don't have to forgive me, and if you want me to just shut up instead of trying to fix what I broke, that's your right, and I'll do it.

[therushingsky]

Hey you know what else?

Currently sleeping with the guy who murdered me and got me demoted.

AND IT IS LOVELY (THANKS FOR THE CONDOMS BFF!)

[He's absolutely just lashing out because he's so unbelievably angry with you.]

[ninefox]

[This is maybe the most relatable thing Rhys has ever said to Jedao. And all he can think of is -]

I'm going to miss you so fucking much.

[therushingsky]

[He wants to type a wall of abuse. He wants to round back up and argue against Jedao's previous message again.

"what do you mean, 'if the risk isn't worth it to me'?"

he wants to type

"I already took the risk and it bit me right in the neck!"

He wants to write essays about how Bill never hurt him. About how Elijah never hurt him. He wants to write about kissing Quentin under the mistletoe, and how nice it was, only hours before kissing Jedao turned his blood cold.

He wants to scream at Jedao for making this hard. For immediately being himself again. For knowing how much Rhys responds to being liked, and immediately leaning on it.

He types out and deletes a dozen messages, before finally fighting back the urge to engage, and replying with a single word:]

GOOD.

[That's all. He hopes you miss the absolute shit out of him, Jedao. He hopes you feel as much like garbage as he does.]

[ninefox]

[It does hurt. Jedao knows he means it to, and that's why; and it's still completely fair.]

Okay.

Goodbye, Rhys.

[He tilts his head back against the wall, and lets himself cry, as silently as he can. Fives will notice anyway, but hopefully he'll take the quiet as a sign that Jedao doesn't want him to draw attention to it. It hurts, but it's a terrible relief, too: to hurt over something as clean and real as sorrow and grief and regret, instead of the formless heaviness of how much he hates himself.]

[therushingsky]

[On his end, Rhys throws his communicator at the wall of the infirmary.

His throwing arm is pretty weak right now though, so it just lands in the middle of the floor.

The only comfort of being one of nearly half a dozen victims, is that no one's really paying attention to whether he's crying, or why. Anyway, weren't they all?]