averagemedium | [Off-Comm Threads]

Would you leave it alone for five fucking seconds--

[And there's the panic. He jerks his arm away at the same time he tries to scoot further down the couch from Henry, intent on shaking him off. The look he gives him is wary, unsettled, and when he quickly comes up against the arm of the couch he's curling up tightly there, protectively.]

[If he'd been closer to himself, he would've stopped, backed off and apologized, worried and possibly even unnerved by the way Ryan was reacting. And maybe the feelings were still there, doing nothing but feeding into a sense of stubborn hurt. He said he cared about him, why was he doing that, why wasn't he sharing?]

You're always hiding your blood, let me see it for once--

[And Henry's clambering after him, pulling at Ryan's arm, the shirt, demanding and impatient.]

No!

[It's high, sharp, and a little fearful. He's used to Henry backing off, he'd expected that to happen, and the fact that he doesn't seem to be listening is horribly worrying. Ryan scrambles back, trying to climb over the arm of the sofa to get away.]

--I don't want you to touch me.

[The fear both makes him hesitate, and makes him frustrated. It's a sound he's familiar with, but not coming from Ryan- and it's enough to let him escape, at least over the edge of the sofa.

But he shakes it off, moving closer again, leaning over the couch as if a second away from crawling over it to get to him again, his voice a dark and soft sort of hurt.]

Why can't I?

Because I said.

[There's a waver in his voice, for all he tries to keep it level. That tone was really not reassuring in the least, but he stays where he is for now, watching.]

What's wrong with you?

What's wrong with you?

[He returns at him, expression oddly neutral, watchful. Henry somehow manages to not continue the lunge after him, but does reach an arm over, grabbing at the protective shirt again.]

I'm not the one stitching my wrist up.

I don't know, okay? Do you think I wanted to do that?

[The motion's jerky as he pulls his arm back, though his grip on the fabric slips- it's easy enough to pull away. He's stepping a little further back, holding his wrist with his other hand instead.]

Just-- just leave me alone.

Why're you saying that?

[Finally he could see it again, but Ryan was still backing away. That wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to do that.

So he gets up and follows.]

I'm going to help- don't you want that?

Not when you're acting like this.

[Ryan reflexively continues to shift backward in response, all the way up to the wall. He could make him stop if he wanted to, he's more than aware-- and a part of him wants to do it, wants to show Henry that he can.

He isn't, not unless he needs to. This is all wrong, making it more wrong isn't going to fix it.]

I don't know what's going on but you need to listen to me.

I'm listening.

[Good, the wall would stop him. Even if it wasn't Henry's intention to seem threatening, that's only because he didn't have much conscious intention at all. And he advances on him, with blank eyes and a half-smile.

He'd fix him. He'd protect him, from himself if he needed to.]

To~tally listening. Let me see, I want to see it-

You aren't. If you were listening to me you'd back off.

[There's as much force behind that as he can manage, but his voice still shakes, his eyes are still wide-- it's the only time he's looked honestly terrified of Henry. That expression unsettles him badly, and he keeps his wrist clutched possessively to his chest.]

Please, Henry. Don't. [There's a desperate note in that plea.]

[That tone, his face- Henry hasn't quite closed in when he stops short, staring at him. He wants to shake off the confusion, the unease that's creeping up.

That blood, he was almost to it-

Something was wrong.]

--You're afraid of me.

[It was soft and confused, but at least not accusing. Tense, he didn't know what to do. He was doing something wrong, but he couldn't tell what it was.]

...little bit.

[More than a little bit. The tiny laugh he huffs out is obviously not genuine, completely a nervous response.]

Why wouldn't I be, you-- you're-- I told you to stop I don't know how many times. If I can't trust you to back off, what then? How am I supposed to trust you not to do anything else?

[He isn't relaxing, still tense and watching him warily.]

I'm not-

[The anxiety in Ryan was obvious, even to him- he just didn't get it. He wanted to help, wanted his blood, wanted to help.

Why didn't he trust him, why didn't he-]

I wouldn't hurt you.

[A cautious step towards him.]

Maybe not on purpose. I don't know if I can believe that right now.

[He wants to, he really does, he desperately wants to just accept that and let this blow over--

He has to draw a line somewhere.]

Right now I just need you to stop.

[He wanted to obey. It was in his nature, he didn't even need to think about it, maybe Ryan was right and he wasn't listening, why wasn't he listening.

Why wasn't Ryan listening to him?]

But if I stop, you'll hurt yourself again. I can't let you, I said I'd protect you.

[Yet Henry stops moving. No. He didn't need to move. The shadows behind Ryan, cast against the wall- they moved, stretched and grew and shifted, claws reaching out to grab and restrain him.]

Please. Please hold still.

[He doesn't realize they're there until he's being grabbed, frozen in panic for a moment before he starts trying to pull himself loose. There's little thought to it, all just a reflexive, frantic struggle.]

This isn't protecting me, Henry, let me go--

[It's unfortunate that the shadows, for now, seem to be working with Henry's intention. Mutated hands grow claws and arms, like the wall itself was coming alive to hold him.

The reaction surprised him, but he shook his head, forcing the shadows to tighten their grip.]

Yes it is, you'll hurt yourself if I don't.

It's happened ONCE, you don't have to do this--

[He's not continuing to fight against the shadows after they strengthen their grip, though. Ryan takes a moment to try to just breathe, gather his thoughts, gather his will.]

--fine. You want me to hold still? You too.

[And he abruptly reaches for control of him, aiming to force him a couple steps back and hold him there.]

Hey--

[All of a sudden he's moving backward, and he didn't want to, not now, it wasn't fun like he thought it would be, not like this.

The shadows likewise stop, locking into position- but he at least can't make them worse.]

Stop it- I'm going to help, I'll save you!

[And the way he says it, it's basically a threat.]

From what? Something neither of us has any control over?

[He keeps hold of him, not quite willing to let him go yet-- part of him is still anxious about what's going to happen when he does, and part thinks it's just payback. It's only fair.]

How exactly are you planning on that, huh?

[The longer he's held, the more he doesn't want to be held, and if it had been a more physical bind, he'd be clawing and biting at it to get it off.

Since he can't, it's all inward- hurt and angry, and it's not an emotion he's had in years and he doesn't know what to do with it. But whether he liked it or not, he was going to fix things, take the stitches out, and then his hand, work until he couldn't leave him--

The laugh he gives is halfway to breathless, and not remotely stable.]

Let go, and we'll find out~

...don't think so. Not unless I know what you're doing.

[A large part of him is convinced that this is so unlike him, that he would never be like this, not to him-- and a small bit is wondering whether that's true, or whether he's just seeing what other people do, now.

Either way, the sound of that laugh is a good reminder not to let go yet.]

I'll let you go if you promise me you're going to let me leave.

Don't!

[The word is sharp, escapes him before he can try to control it. He wanted to leave. He was going to leave, and Henry couldn't really think beyond that concept. It might as well have been an absolute.

It takes a moment for him to control himself- or at least, to construct a reply that wasn't shouted at him.]

I'm not gonna lie to you Ryan.

Oh, I believe you're not lying. That's what's really kind of freaking me out right now. You're not acting like yourself.

[Maybe more like himself?

--no, he really needs to stop being paranoid, this is not right.]

...I don't want to leave for good. Okay? Just for a bit. I want to stay here, that just-- doesn't feel very safe, right now.

[His expression's still wary, but less accusing.]

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