logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

characters: everyone.
location: around town.
date/time: october 9-17.
content: the hallucinations begin...
warnings: psychological horror. please cw tags appropriately.

it's probably something that shouldn't be said out loud

October 9 feels like a normal day at first, save for the red lighthouse beam cutting through the darkness overhead. You know by now—or you've heard—that the lighthouse is only active during ferry arrivals and events... And there's definitely no ferry docked at the, er. Beach. The town is quiet, the forest spirits behave business-as-usual, Rastus doesn't know what's up. Whatever's going on, you'll have to figure it out for yourself.

And you will, though the hallucinations are subtle at first: objects moving when they shouldn't, people's proportions looking just a bit off, voices in an empty room, and so on. Is it just your mind playing tricks in the darkness? Might be! Will did warn you all about the effects of living without a sun and a proper day/night cycle.

As the days go on, the hallucinations are harder to ignore, no matter how much you may wish to wave them off as flukes. What's wrong with everyone's faces? When did all the howling start? Who do you hold onto when the world drops out from under you? And those hands...

While you might know it can't be real, it certainly feels real. But at least it can't last forever!

...Right?

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Um. [ there are a lot of words to process there, so he. needs some time to process it. ] I mean. I do like her. And I do know you. And. And I know it could never be as bad as you're thinking of it. Or making it. Because that's. That's just your brain breaking? Not you being you. Just your brain hurting you. Because it can. Because it wants to.

But dreams aren't--

Shitty choices aren't as much of a thing? In dreams. That's why they're dreams. So. If. If things aren't shitty, then you're not dreaming.

And if you're not terrified all the time, it's not a nightmare.

Also I'm. Really not perfect? Even slightly? Ssso. So.

[ the words die because he isn't even sure what else he could say to convince him. it's then that he remembers though, how bad they are with words. how words always only seem to complicate. how sometimes they need to just shut up and--

he leans in and kisses quentin before he can speak again. ]

[There were a lot of words coming out of Eliot, and just as many trying to push themselves out of Quentin's mouth before he's kissed and that quiets all of that. And with a small noise low in his throat, Quentin gets a hand up to cup Eliot's face, brush his fingers over his ear and kiss him back desperately.

The monster never did this, and Julia is still calling his name and it isn't that important, not with Eliot kissing him in the dark and Alice is right, Quentin is always going to want this. After that first time, and she was right, just as she is now, that Quentin didn't want her this much, didn't ache for her this much.]

[ he sighs, sinks into the way quentin reaches for him, holds him back, wants him. the shiver runs along his veins, and eliot whimpers in relief. quentin's breath is hot, his lips warm and wet. he's real. none of this is a hallucination. he can here mike calling and mocking, tugging and touching at his back, but none of it feels as real as the weight of quentin leaned against him, lips pressing and seeking. he could never imagine that right, not that particular awkward brand of quentin's kisses, even in his dreams.

his fingers press into quentin's hair, right hand sliding down to steady quentin by the small of his back. it's hard not to lie to himself about how quentin definitely doesn't smell or taste great given he's apparently just been. out. and probably hasn't showered. or brushed his teeth. in days. but eliot can't bring himself to really care. he can't really care. this is the realest thing he's felt in a long while, and if he doesn't make sure it stays that way, he might very well disappear. ]

[The Monster is still there, same as Julia and Alice, like they're drawing in closer all three of them. Maybe because Quentin is trying to very hard not to pay attention.

There's that familiar lingering touch to the top of his head, a hand trailing down his chest- impossible, impossible, because Eliot is there, drawn up tightly and pressed so firmly against all of Quentin that there's no room for anything else. Eliot's face against his hand and Eliot's chest pushing in to his with every breath either of them takes.

But they're still there.

Julia, crying now and she's begging. So prettily. For Quentin to just come back, please, Q. Come back. She never touches him, though.

And Quentin kisses Eliot back, desperate and crying a little, tears leaking out from under his tightly shut eyes and

Alice. She sounds so cold, like an ice-burn on winter cheeks. Something that will sting, once it sets in properly and she's talking, soft and superior, about all of his many, countless failures and how this is just going to be another one, Q, god. Didn't you learn anything?]

Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me--

[Quentin is almost chanting it, between kisses and in to the next one. Making a choice, because even if this is all just in his head, even if Eliot and everything that they are, is just something he made up in his head- even if all of this is just one big lie and the real world is just outside, without magic, without pain, without Eliot, Quentin is going to choose this. Right here.]

I'm here. I'm here, Q. [ whispers and promises squeezed between kisses. quentin still seems so lost, even though he's right here, and the only thing eliot knows is that he will always be whatever quentin asks. ] I won't go. Never. I love you.

[ his words are certain, even if gentle. his hand brushes back against quentin's neck, thumb tracing against his jaw. there's a struggle in quentin's voice, and eliot wants nothing more than to soothe him. ]

Breathe. I'm with you. [ he lets their brows meet. ] I'm right here. Focus. Focus on me.

I am. I am-- jesus, El. I am.

[Still with his eyes closed and hugging Eliot so close, their faces kissing-close and the hands-- the fucking hands--]

Don't-- don't-- if you. Uh, don't do it gently? Please?

[Too similar, too familiar right now and Quentin pushes harder in to Eliot's hand.]

Are you--? Are you okay? Are you hurt?

[Not that Quentin is going to open his eyes to check, not yet. He isn't ready for those flaming eyes to look back at him, is never going to be ready to see that again. It was horrible enough the first time and this time, this time he's going to lose it. If the Monster comes back. If-- if--if]

[ he isn't really sure what that means, coming from q. how gentle is too gentle? and which it for that matter? he doesn't know. he can't tell. but quentin presses in harder, and eliot decides to pull him tightly against his chest, hand pressed to the back fo quentin's to make sure he does go, and palm pressed hard and flat against his upper back to keep him steady. ]

I'm. I. I don't know? I don't think so. I. Other than. I mean. Maybe my brain is. Hurt a little. I don't. I don't understand why I keep seeing Mike? Or. Or why he's saying all these things. I. I didn't want to do it. I didn't. I- I'm not. I'm not a murderer. I- I don't--

[ eliot huffs shakily against quentin's shoulder, furrowing his brow, pressing deeper. ]

Are you okay? I couldn't find you. And And you never came home? I. Why are you all the way out here? I was so scared.

[Better, so much better when he can feel the difference, when Eliot is holding on tight enough to almost hurt and pressing in.]

Mike? I see-- I keep seeing Alice. Alice and Julia? And-- the monster? There are so many hands, always touching--

[Like that explains anything at all, because it comes out disjointed and like questions. But Quentin says it anyway, mouth pushed in to Eliot's shoulder.]

I was home? I was-- I've been. Under the bed? I think. I think I've been sleeping under a bed. Because-- because he liked to watch me sleep and I couldn't-- I can't do that again.

I feel it too. The touching? Grabbing. Shoving. Mike keeps-- It keeps wanting something. I. My attention, maybe. Or. I don't know. Maybe something more. I haven't seen them though. Alice or Julia.

Under the bed? I. I didn't look. I couldn't find you. I thought maybe you just. You left? Because I'm. Well. I guess you don't need a reason to leave. I'm. I only made a mess of us.

But I'm not the Monster. I don't-- I don't even know what he's really like. Except when he was in Charlton? But now I now Charlton. I don't know the actual. Um. Whatever he is.

I haven't seen Mike.

[Quentin offers, shaking his head and ignoring, ignoring, ignoring the comments and the calls and the sweet smell of candy.]

He wasn't-- anything like you? Like a child, maybe? But. Angry. So, so angry. Ora, the. She was the one who looked after him? Said he was made of pure want. And he wanted a lot of things.

[He shudders, somewhere between remembering and still hearing that soft and wrong voice in his ear.]

The hands are the worst. But I was there? I had to stay close in case, but also-- I couldn't. I'm sorry that I couldn't--

[Be in bed and wake up with the monster looming over him.]

[ he shakes his head defiantly. ]

No, no. It. It was my own fault? I thought. I.

I let him free. And. I should have listened. I shouldn't have been selfish. I should have j- just. [ let quentin go. quentin was never really his to have anyway. only whenever quentin felt he was enough. ]

The hands are. They come and go. I only feel yours right now.

You didn't know.

[Quentin says a little forcefully before shuddering again.] You didn't want this to happen. What-- uh, what the monster did, isn't on you. Any more than it's on me.

[And there's a high-pitched giggle in his ear, saying I like you like it's a secret.]

I-- they never really go away? Now? It's-- jesus, it's all the time now. It--they never stop?

No. Never. It was never on you-- I got myself into that mess. Got all of us into it. I should have. I should have fought harder. When you told us it was final. [ that he would stay with the monster and that was that. ]

I don't want to make it worse though. I. What should I do? With my hands.

Edited 2019-11-01 05:03 (UTC)

[Shaking his head, pushing it so hard in to Eliot's shoulder it has to hurt, but he's not about to let go or let up.] That wouldn't have changed anything. I still made a promise without telling anyone. I-- I figured, I'd already had a pretty good life? A whole lifetime? And-and it was my turn. To make a sacrifice.

[Or so he'd thought at the time, that it had to have been enough with fifty odd years and change.]

Just don't touch me gently?

[ given the rest of everything, he can't help but laugh at that, wanting some kind of normalcy and only having his shitty humor to chase things with. ]

Well-- I didn't realize you were into that kind of thing. Is that why we could hear you and Alice through the walls all the time?

[ he sighs through his nose. as much as he wants to just. keep. joking. he really can't. even the humor is gone, burnt through a lick of flame and then he's pressing into quentin again, swaying them the slightest bit as he holds on to quentin tightly. ]

We're still just kids, Q. Like. Maybe kind of adults, but. We've barely lived. How could you think that? That it was just enough? [ he swallows. ] Was it because of me? Because I. Lied?

Jesus, you heard?

[Normal. The teasing and Eliot's warm breath by his ear and Alice hissing that Quentin must have hoped for something like that. That that's why he was always louder in the cottage than anywhere else, but Let's face it, Q, it's not as if you were ever any good at it.

But. Tight. Is good. Is better. Keeping him in the now, and makes it even slightly possible to ignore the other stuff.]

Oh god. No, Eliot. Fuck, I love you? More than anything. But you turning me down isn't enough to make me want to kill myself. I-- it had to be someone, and why not me? Fifty years and a kid and you, and I'd already lived my life? More than most. Better it was me than anyone else.

But that's not true. We had that, yes, but it wasn't-- that was another life. This one you have here is. You've just barely found your place. And. And I know you don't like thinking about how you're not the. Chosen one. Or. Whatever. But. But I love you. And Alice loves you. And Margo loves you. Julia loves you. And that. Isn't that worth protecting? At least a little?

[ the longer they talk like this, the more the rest of the world seems to fade into the background, disappearing from view altogether. it's like the first night they'd been here again, but with more clarity. and with both of their fragility, only honesty follows. ]

None of use wanted to lose you. No matter what happened to magic.

...and. Yeah. A lot of people heard. But it's not like we don't have that kind of thing happening every other week during a party anyway, so.

I--I thought that was what I was doing? Protecting that? Protecting everyone.

[And all of magic, because it had to be someone, why not him this time? Everyone else had already been through so much, had already giving so much of themselves and Quentin had escaped all of that with just a few more scars on his soul and a slightly heavier heart.

So, he'd thought - why the hell not.]

Yeah. That-- that really doesn't make it any better that everyone heard me. Jesus. Good thing I didn't know at the time.

Does not knowing mean it'd be easier to face anyone that heard? [ it's amusing to consider, q trying to just shake it off like anything else. but plenty of people at the cottage did hear, so. yep. ]

That wasn't what I was saying though. None of us wanted you to protect everyone. You don't ever protect yourself, and that's why it's. It hurts all of us. Or. Hurt, I guess, now. We're always hoping you can see what we see in you, but. It's like. Like you doon't want to?

A little, anyway.

Yes? Yeah, it does.

[For no reason at all, since everyone hearing is everyone hearing, but not-knowing seems like a shield against being too embarrassed about it, even in hindsight. But, it's not as if he's going to see anyone again. Probably.

Quentin's face falls from the soft half-smile in to a serious one, eyebrows drawing tight together.]

I guess I don't really know what you see in me? Any of you? I never really did.

[ eliot hums. ] I could say the same for you of me. But.

But that doesn't mean I don't try to understand. Since I know it's important to you. Because I love you.

[ though his hold doesn't slacken, he feels his heart ease up. he still feels like mike is there. watching. ready to say anything at any moment, so just make it hurt. twisting the knife had always been easy for people eliot had let in. but he doesn't want to stay here. it's too dangerous. there's the river. and quentin. and all these things they're seeing, hearing, feeling that aren't really there. ]

Hey. Let's go home, okay? I. I don't. I didn't like the way you were looking at the river.

[He wants to argue, that it isn't any better in the cabin. That they follow, everywhere. Even under the bed. Always there, always watching, always commenting. And the hands.

Quentin shudders.

Those hands.

And hugs Eliot tighter.]

Yeah. Okay, yeah. We can-- okay. We can go home.

[ he's quiet for a moment, sending the hesitation. ]

You need to eat. And sleep. And.

And that way, I'll be near. If you call for me, I'll be there in a second. And you can know who is real, and who isn't.

...we can have a code? If it helps. Something the Monster never knew.

[He's too tired to argue, too worn down to make more than the token grunt, because it's not going to help. Julia is still going to be calling for him from the drains and Alice found a way in to the kitchen, her hands poking through the walls to push at him.

And the monster.

Quentin knows where it sleeps at night, because it likes him.

Instead, he just nods slowly and takes a deep breath.]

Peaches and plums. It didn't know about-- it didn't know about any of that. If you say it, I'll know it's you.

[Again and again, for always.]

[ there's a part of him that knew this too, even without q saying it. it was a secret only for them, of their shared life with arielle, of a world so distant now but that had been theirs for years. decades. it's the reason why he'd said it at all, in his brief moment of freedom, the escape from the happy place. only quentin would know. could know. and it was beautiful that way.

he hopes it's enough, that what they shared and who they were is all quentin needs to remember. eliot isn't sure that he can be, though. ]

Okay. Then. Then if you're unsure, you can say "peaches" and I'll answer with the rest. So you'll really know. You can't complete the other half without knowing the whole thing, so.

[ he pauses to sigh. and then: ] You know, I never thought I'd be coming up with a safe word before we actually got to anything kinky, but I guess there's a first for everything.

EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

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