why would i want to watch you disconnect and self-destruct

[campjesus]

After two hours of wandering around downtown LA at night, it occurs to Brody that he has nowhere else to go.

He left his money and valuables -- a plastic shopping bag full of expensive leather wallets, watches, rings, cufflinks, and cash, some of it blood-stained -- in his room. He could hustle for the money for a place but he really doesn't feel like it, hasn't felt like it in a long time. He could kill for it, but he isn't hungry, there's no guarantee whoever he picks will be carrying cash, and anyway he doesn't feel like putting in enough effort to get rid of the body. There's no one he knows well enough in New York to crash with, not considering his situation. There's definitely no one in LA. He can't spend the night on the street and he doesn't want to go hang out in the sewers again. It's disgusting and it stinks.

He comes slinking back to the Room instead, relieved that Harvestman isn't there anymore. He doesn't want to talk to him right now. He knows he's being unreasonable, but it bothers him that all of a sudden he's treating him like a child when he's been expected to be an adult for the past year, and it upsets him that it's taken him a year to get around to caring enough to bring it up. Then why do you insist on doing it by yourself? He felt like screaming, still feels like screaming. Because I've fucking had to.

But talking makes it worse. He can scream it until he's blue in the face -- not that that can happen anymore -- and it won't change anything. It won't help. It won't make him feel any better.

It takes him a long time to knock on Lucas' door, clutching a jar full of dirt with his creepy dead dog sitting at his feet. He's been wearing the same clothes for weeks.

Comments

[surface_level]

Lucas hums deep in his chest, thinking. He turns so that he walks backward toward the bed, pulling Brody along after him until he can sit and then draw him down to lie beside him. Then his hands move, wandering, touching, smoothing.

It is easier for Lucas to speak when he doesn't try to also follow someone else's thoughts. He closes his eyes so that he can talk into that black vacuum, outside of uncertainty, restrictions, and language barriers.

"I have found books. I do not often read, but I have thought there may be books that will give me the words I lack for speaking of my position."

[campjesus]

Brody allows himself to be led and moved. He's looking at nothing in particular, not seeing very much of it, anyway; it is easier to just check out. He lies very still, listening to him breathing. He doesn't typically feel like talking ever, but especially not now. "Mm."

[surface_level]

"Most of it is difficult, but I am learning."

Boring. He frowns and changes the subject, gingerly. "I spoke with Alexi."

[campjesus]

Brody says nothing, but he nudges him with his nose, prompting. Go on. About either.

[surface_level]

"He was not repelled." Said neutrally. This is not so much about Alex, apparently.

"It is strange, how people in these places forgive so much."

[campjesus]

He shakes his head. That's not new to him, but what he feels about it, well. He's not going to talk about it. (Among other things he's not going to talk about.)

[surface_level]

"Strange." He shakes his head. "It makes all, less stable. What is wrong, and what is good." His hands begin to move idly over Brody again, unconsciously seeking some form of comfort.

[campjesus]

Brody helpfully headbutts his arm, then bites him. Not hard enough to hurt, just a tiny bit of pressure from his teeth. That's how he shows affection, okay, with biting.

[surface_level]

He has, believe it or not, come to understand this. Lucas lets the subject drop with just a purse of his lips and then turns toward the teeth on his arm, calm again.

"I have decided to acquire a phone. A smart one, if it is possible. I no longer wish to be confused by your references."