June 4, 1986 - Like Someone's Walking on My Grave

[faithfulclublet]

He isn't sure why it's something that happens. Isn't sure why things can get so absolutely overwhelming when everyone and everything else is still so sunny. It's likely at least partially to do with the same hormones that are having him grow like a weed, but he doesn't think that's all.

He especially doesn't think that's all today, when he wakes up from a nightmare he can't remember to a sense of dread that lingers the rest of the day.

It's got him moving in a haze. It's got him not really paying attention when people are talking to him.

It has him struggling to string the words together when he finally realizes he needs to answer a question he didn't hear, "--Sorry. What was that, again?"

Comments

[theleast]

It's something that happens, she knows. Andrew's one of those sensitive people who lives with high highs and low lows--who feels everything deeply, even things world bigger than himself. It's not something to take personally, when his mind wanders into the world above the people he's talking to, particularly when he's been in something of a 'mood' all day.

But it's hard not to take it personally, when you're twelve and nervously in like with someone who seems not to have any attention for you.

"...it's..." It's nothing. It's stupid. It's ridiculous. It's not important. Her lips press tight and attempt a smile. "I just-- wanted to know if you're okay."

[faithfulclublet]

"Me?"

Duh. Of course him, she just said 'you' specifically. He shakes his head just slightly to clear it.

"'m all right. Maybe a bit tired."

That's got to be it.

[theleast]

Tired. Tired is fine. Tired is a thing that happens.

Her brow knits anyway. Her fingers twitch to touch his arm but don't quite make it.

"You-- should rest, then. This isn't important."

[faithfulclublet]

"No-- no, it's all right."

Because tired he can power through. Tired he can let himself fight in a way he can't really this sense of foreboding.

He'll give it his best shot anyways.

"What's up?"

[theleast]

Her lips stay pressed shut for a moment, eyes flicking over his features. Even now, even tired and a little upset, they're wonderful to study.

"It's silly. Honestly. I just wanted to know what you were doing this afternoon."

[faithfulclublet]

"Oh."

He rubs at his eyes just slightly, then smiles.

"Other'n training with Ed, nothing much. Why?"

[theleast]

"No reason. Just-- hoping you'll have a chance to rest, really."

Because he's tired. Because her heartaches painfully when he's not happy.

Because he'e beyond important.

[faithfulclublet]

He manages a little better grin, then, one hand coming to rest on her shoulder reassuringly.

"I'll be fine, 'gine, honest. No need t'fuss."

[theleast]

He's older. He's taller. He's got that handsome quality about him that boys take on when they begin to genuinely, unconsciously, turn into men.

It takes her a second to untie her tongue.

"...I-I just. Worry. Be-- because we're friends. And you-- worry about your-- friends."

[faithfulclublet]

"'s sweet of you."

And he really does appreciate it. That much should be obvious.

[theleast]

She always perks up when complimented. Of course she perks up when Andrew compliments her.

"You're a good friend. You're supposed to be good to good friends."

[faithfulclublet]

"Well, y'go above and beyond that."

And it's lovely. It really is. It helps make even this haze of being upset a little better.

"'ppreciate it."

[theleast]

He sounds a little brighter. He sounds a little more like himself. It brightens her own worried smile just a hair.

"Have you eaten? That-- that'll help too, I tihnk."

[faithfulclublet]

"...Food."

Yeah, that'd probably be a good thing to have more of, wouldn't it. At least he can manage a sheepish look.

"Ate a little bit earlier. Probably should go get something more substantial, though."

[theleast]

"Andrew."

The fondness in her huff is probably abundantly clear. Her attention drops almost instantly to her own bag, digging and turning up, disappointingly, only a candy bar--offered instantly and with insistence.

[faithfulclublet]

"I wasn't hungry."

Still isn't, particularly.

"'nd I can't take your food, 'gine."

[theleast]

"It's a candy bar. And I insist."

Only in part because it's an entirely good reason to reach out, briefly, and squeeze his elbow.

[faithfulclublet]

"All right, then."

If she insists. And also because of the encouragement her touch gives.

[theleast]

She can't stop the pleased smile. She doesn't begin to attempt to.

"And get some rest, Andrew-- please."

[faithfulclublet]

"I will, 'gine." A squeeze of her arm, "Promise."

[ofthecubs]

"Asked if you could hold still while you're brooding."

Because this paper airplane in Edgar's hand? Isn't going to hit Andrew square in the forehead if the other boy keeps moving.

And, well, it's a universally proven truth that Andrew isn't great at sharing--that he needs to get tugged out of the darkness before he'll talk about what's on his mind. Paper airplanes aren't necessarily the best way to get him out of himself, but they're what's being tested today.

[faithfulclublet]

"I'm not brooding."

Okay. Maybe the statement comes out a little broodingly. Maybe despite he pacing, he has been looking somber and thoughtful as he walks about.

[ofthecubs]

"But, I mean, you are."

And that, sir, is why you're getting this airplane thrown at your head. It misses, true, but the intention is there in the way it wicks past Andrew's shoulder.

"And you should stop."

[faithfulclublet]

"I'm not," he says with a touch of insistence in his voice, even though his expression is still drawn when he dodges the airplane, "Brooding implies there's something for me t'be brooding about."

Which he isn't, really. Not this time-- not that there isn't nothing for him to brood about. There's a few things, at the moment.

It's just that none of them are really the problem, right now.

these are the strugglebus years ._.

[ofthecubs]

"That's just not true."

In part, of course, because Andrew could brood over the existence of free will for weeks if he put his mind to it.

indeed so ;w;

[faithfulclublet]

"Maybe not usually, yeah."

Because he can brood, about a lot of things. Does, often enough.

"But right now I'm just-- nn."

He doesn't know what to say about the feeling he's having.

/swaddles them

[ofthecubs]

Ah, there it is. Edgar shifts in his seat, leaning to properly rest his elbows on his knees.

"Just what, Drew?"

Don't hold it all in, buddy. That never works out.

/sniffles

[faithfulclublet]

He'll take that as a signal to flop into the chair across from him, burying his head in his hands.

"It's stupid."

[ofthecubs]

More progress. There's the hint of a smile under the overall sympathetic sheen as he leans more heavily onto one elbow.

"So 'm I. C'mon. Won't get better if you don't share."

[faithfulclublet]

"...I don' even know what it is, really."

And that's one of the things so difficult to understand. It's not a real problem, after all.

"I just-- had a really bad dream last night 'nd-- 've been feeling awful ever since I woke up."

[ofthecubs]

"Oh yeah?" For a moment, his lower lip goes between his teeth, thoughtful and quiet. "What kind of bad dream?"

[faithfulclublet]

"I--"

And he sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair in clear distress.

"--I think someone was-- trying t'kill me. In the dream. A-and it felt so real-- I know it's dumb, I just..."

It'd shaken him.

[ofthecubs]

There's a moment's pause. A moment's consideration. A moment's gauging exactly where Andrew's frazzled mind is.

Then there's an easy movement to get up and move. To pull his arms easily--just a little protectively--around the other boy's slumped shoulders.

"That sucks."

[faithfulclublet]

Being held helps. He can wriggle to bury his face against Edgar and let loose a bit of a shaky breath.

"'s like it was really happening, Ed. 've been feeling like someone's gonna jump out at me all day."

[ofthecubs]

"That's the worst."

Thankfully, it's also the sort of thing that gets better. It's the sort of feeling that sometimes takes a few days to wear off completely, but it never lasts forever.

Hopefully, arms tight around Andrew will help with this as much as they do with other nerves and pains.

[faithfulclublet]

"It is."

But being held helps. Being held means he's going to stay clinging close as long as possible, just to feel less shaky again.

[ofthecubs]

"Won't be forever."

Which doesn't help with the moment, of course. That's not the way this sort of rough emotion works.

"Got you, though."

Which probably helps just a little more.

[faithfulclublet]

"I know."

And it does help. It means he gets to burrow in and breathe, just like he always does when he gets overwhelmed with things.

[ofthecubs]

It's nice, knowing his friend fits in snugly here. It's nicer, knowing his friend takes advantage of that when he needs to.

"Always, yeah?"

[faithfulclublet]

"I know."

And he does his best to take advantage of that fact, as much as he can let himself.

[ofthecubs]

"'s go sit outside, okay?"

In part, of course, because there were fewer places to be jumped out from by imagined threats. Much more in part, of course, because the fresh air would help everything settle just a bit more.

[faithfulclublet]

"Sure."

It would help. Not as much as the company already does, but it's no small contribution.