CW: Dark at times but I’m not really sure how to content warn for this. Uhh… Mentions/implications of self-loathing and self-blame, an alien being trying to understand a depressed and traumatized man’s mind from the inside. Written for the RP server Siena.
Sun. Bright. Brings life. Happiness. Flowers. Sunset. John. Love. Plane. Stars. Sky. Burn. Crash. Pain. Hate. Guilt. Family. Pain. Pain. Pain–
Sun. Sunflowers. Orchids. Happiness. Panic. Pain. Guilt–
Torture. Normal. Failure. Hero. Guilt. Pain. Death. Guilt. Pain. Death. Release. Negative Spirit. Pain. Familiarity. Same. Different. Monster. Fear. Guilt.
Words. Practicing words. First that come to mind. So many of the same ones. Pain and guilt. Always comes back to that. Torture. Always in his head.
Words are so important to him, to them, matter. Words matter. They matter. They are matter. It is just energy. Ideas. Thoughts. Dreams. Abstract. They are solid. He is solid. He needs solidity. Touch. Touch is difficult for the Spirit. He touches it. Reaches out for it when it glows in his chest. Seeking… something. Comfort. There is comfort in touch. But something it cannot give him. Not the way he craves. No matter how much it tries. Matter. It is not matter. It does not matter. He matters. He is all that matters. He is all matter. He is everything. The only thing it knows anymore.
It cannot feel like he does. But it feels through him. Pain and fear, sorrow, guilt… Rare, fleeting moments of happiness, peace, tranquility. The nebula was full of tranquility. Safe. Here everything is hard. It can phase through solid objects but it still knows what hard feels like. It hides in Larry’s chest. Larry is not hard. Inside, Larry is warm. Larry is safe. Larry is home. Larry is life. Larry is its new nebula. And his mind is as vast and intricate and abstract. Thoughts and dreams and hopes and fears and memories. Memories he holds onto. Tortures himself with. Hides in. Comforts? Is pain comfort? Pain is… predictable. Pain is what he knows. Happiness is… elusive. Unstable. Happiness is scary. Happiness feels good. And it’s so much worse when it’s taken away. That’s what he’s afraid of. Losing what he gains.
Here everything is pain. Before, everything was pain, but dull. Long years stretching out to eternity. Time stopped. It did not exist. Just him. Just them. Repetition. He likes repetition. Predictable. Safe. Predictable agony is familiar. Scheduling his panic attacks. They come whether he plans for it or not. Makes it a part of the plan. Feels more in control.
But he’s not. He never has been. The Negative Spirit is not in control either. Neither chose this. But Larry is home now. He is its and it is his and they are one. He fights it. He wants control. He thought he had control once… But that control was fake. The control was not his, never his. Always had orders, always had expectations, could never fit them right no matter how much he tried to look like he had control.
Here, the pain is different. Unpredictable. Sharp. Everywhere. People. New people, people lost, people stolen, people found. Missing. Missing friends.
The hard one made of metal, alone like Larry, isolated, no touch, no feeling, only thought. But doesn’t want to think. Land that suddenly stops and plunges a great distance, too far, too fast, toward a bright metallic shine. Steel. Steele. Cliff Steele.
The one with so many people in her head, so many powers she doesn’t understand. A beautiful, intricate container for liquid. Chalice. But not. Jane. Jane’s the one they know well.
And newer, but friend, fits. Like the metal one but softer. Intricate machine of ideas in his head that he doesn’t want. That takes his control. Cyber. Cybernetic. And matter. Cyborg. Vic. Larry thinks of him differently than the others. He fits but he… Doesn’t. Broken, like them, but fits in the world.
Like the one of nature, green, animal. Changes shape. Left home. But always in their heart. Gar. He calls him Gar. Both had lives outside separate from them. Gar was there, Gar was family, but he could always do more. Larry misses him. The Spirit does too. He understood what it was like not to rigidly stay in one shape. His mother did too, but she fought against it. Gar accepted it, embraced it, his ability to be more than one thing.
And then Her. The one that had been in Larry’s mind before he even knew her. He knew her. He felt her. Saw her, larger than life, wish fulfillment. Happiness. Dream. He dared to dream. She made him dream. Then she was there. And she accepted him. The pain he saw behind her eyes before he knew her, bonded them. Inseparable.
Not like thrill and happiness and guilt and love. Planes and motor oil, back of a pickup truck and the moon and the sky. River and sunsets and a seedy motel. John. Love lost. Pain and regret and love. Home. He was home to Larry.
Not like her, and them, societal pressure, expectations, never living up, always a failure, never enough. Harsh words and tears of young boys wanting a father’s love. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Solace in his arms. Mother’s love withdrawn, words of truth thrown at him life knives. Have to dodge, have to hide, for mother’s love, for father’s love. Family. Parents. Wife. Sons. Imposter. Failure. Normalcy. Never enough.
But She was a haven for him at that time, the one he wanted to be. Secret Rendezvous. Thrill and intrigue and happiness and a happy ending and expectations overthrown, pressure released. She was a haven for him after. The one who physicalizes how Larry feels. Melts in the stress, the pressure, the pain. The one of great distance, yet close, to him. Farr. Rita Farr. Partners.
Not like them. Larry rejected it. Larry embraced her. It wants to be embraced. It is engulfed inside his chest but can’t feel him the way it wants to. Not if he doesn’t let it. And he can’t feel it the way he needs to feel.
But there’s one here, one he is daring to let himself dream of. Yearn for. Sun. Bright. Happiness. But too bright. Can’t look. Wants to look. Will never look away. From a world full of what is just ideas to Larry. Fantasy. Fantasy incarnate. Knight in shining armor. Wish Fulfillment. Slaying dragons, adventure in dark, dangerous woods. Brave. A contrast to his cowardice. Doesn’t think of Larry that way, though. Doesn’t have expectations that Larry is failing to meet. Clean slate. But wants it to stay in his head. As an idea. Ideas are safe. Ideas aren’t matter. Ideas aren’t reality. Reality could hurt. But his thoughts hurt too. Is it really safer? His mind always twists things into pain. Even happiness. If he tortures himself in his head, what could he stand to lose? He needs to know.
It doesn’t feel the way that Larry can. But it does feel. Is this love? Is it love to shape itself as a reflection of the man it is utterly entangled with so it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins? Is it love to think of him as your home and your everything? Is it love to need the one who fills his thoughts with happiness and peace in a world of horror, one he is finally letting himself dare to dream of happiness with? The one that can give him what it can’t.