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[cacophonish]

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text; un: hodie

[midnightroads]

Hey.

[cacophonish]

hey what's up

[midnightroads]

Wanted to check in after everything on that post.

You ok?

[cacophonish]

[ He's not really sure how he's doing, but that's about par for the course. Mixed-to-unhappy? Itching to dive into something reckless and dangerous so he can ignore his feelings and soak up dopamine?

That's normal for him. He's probably fine. ]

im ok. how are you are you ok?

[midnightroads]

Yeah, fine. Just worried about how everyone else is dealing.

[Because Bash doesn't want to stop and think about himself, he's got Jeff and Alec to mop up, Bashir to commiserate with, Vash to talk to about those issues he clearly has.]

[cacophonish]

people were making shitty assumptions about you. its ok if your not totally fine you know.

[ Says the hypocrite who will pretty much always say he's fine no matter what. ]

anyway sorry I made it worse. I was trying to help and I fucked up

[midnightroads]

Hey. You know you don't need therapy, just because you liked what we've done together, right? Whoever that asshole was who said that, they're wrong.

I mean, not that you might not need therapy, I think everyone here does, but not because of their kinks. Because of how often boundaries get crossed and the city fucks with our heads.

But. I'm not mad at you, okay?

1/2

[cacophonish]

ok. thanks

[ He really does appreciate the message, even if he's not being very responsive. He's just in his feelings, so he's doing his avoidance thing. At least until he gets good and wasted, in 3... 2... ]

2/2

[cacophonish]

[ And a bit later, here comes the messy word vomit: ]

you should be mad at me tho. seriously
the city fucked with your head and threw us at each other and now everyone thinks your into shit your not because of me. and im too fucking stupid to even know whats standard practice for this stuff

and that persons right about me. im messed up
im a mess
i dont need anyone pretending im not

[midnightroads]

You're not stupid, you just haven't run into all of this before. We all kinda get thrown into the deep end here.

Do you want to know what I'm actually into? The way you smile when we're in the middle of something. Or the look on your face when you're deciding whether or not you want to behave. Or how soft and warm you are afterwards, when I just need to know you're okay and I didn't go too far.

I'm always scared I'm going to fuck up, you know. Hurt you like really hurt you. I don't want to break you, because you're beautiful and sweet and unpredictable and all that is perfect.

[cacophonish]

[ Oh, wow. How's he supposed to keep his growing crush at bay when Bash says stuff like this to him? He wishes he could send something as sweet and articulate back, but even if he were sober, he's pretty sure he'd fuck it all up.

He does read the message a few times, though, just kind of. Savoring the warm fuzzies that manage to blossom through the muck inside him. There's a lot he wants to say, but doesn't know how, and in the end all he manages is: ]

you don't have to be scared about that

[ He doesn't realize the big red flags in his own choice of words. It's not "you won't break me"-- though he does believe that Bash wouldn't really hurt him-- it's "if you break me, it's okay." ]

[midnightroads]

Too late, already am, can't stop won't stop.

[cacophonish]

sometimes i think i want it tho

[ Sometimes, the thought of being broken is just... freeing? But it's an impulsive thing to type and send, and he regrets it as soon as it goes through. His desire to obliterate himself isn't something that Bash needs to worry about. ]

sorry.
i didn't mean that

i guess im in a weird mood. maybe im more upset then i thought
anyway ill be ✨✨✨ again tomorrow 🙂

[midnightroads]

I'm coming over to talk to you.

[What's his directional sense of people for, if not for that?]

[cacophonish]

its ok I'm fine I just type dumb things sometimes
you don't need to come down here

[ "Here" being some dive in the Down where he's probably sitting at the bar and either drinking free from a bartender "friend" or accepting drinks from strangers. ]

[midnightroads]

[There's no response.

Until Bash walks into the bar, beelining for Jeff.]

[cacophonish]

Jeff looks at Bash. He blinks, then looks at his drink, as if it was somehow, what, spiked with hallucinogens? He blinks again... then slowly reaches out to poke the other man in the shoulder, like he's testing whether Bash is really here or just in his head.

He doesn't think he's had a hallucination since Ziggy was split from him, but... that doesn't mean much.

[midnightroads]

Bash is incredibly real, as he leans in to brush warm lips against Jeff's forehead. Absolutely and utterly real.

"Hey, sweetheart." The words are soft, gentle and laced with concern, because he can see exactly what kind of state Jeff's in, and it breaks his heart. But it really drives home what his responsibility is. Even in a world without the Fates, he can't manage to do casual. Well, fuck.

[cacophonish]

Jeff would very much like to sink into that brief kiss. He tries to imagine what it would be like, to really be sweet and beautiful and all the things Bash sees in him. Sometimes, he can pretend so naturally that it almost feels real. Other times, times like right now, he feels like the most naked, obvious fraud.

Maybe there's a reality where he's worth the kindness and affection, but it's not this one. But he's greedy, and he's selfish, so he leans in all the same, eyes fluttering shut, and he can't help but smile at the greeting.

"Heeeey, handsome." He opens his eyes, gaze drifting back to his nearly-finished drink. He nudges it away. "I might be drunk."

[midnightroads]

"Completely shitfaced." Bash takes the glass, takes a sip, and looks at Jeff with amusement. "And on the worst plonk too. Want me to take you home?"

[cacophonish]

"Mmhm," he nods agreeably, leaning in to let Bash in on a secret. "I like the bad stuff. Makes me a cheap date."

As for home... The thought of returning to his dingy room is just... depressing. But maybe it can be salvaged. He smiles and slides a hand from Bash's knee, up his thigh.

"Oh yeah, we should... we should go. Somewhere private, um... Yeah, home. That's good."

[midnightroads]

The hand on his leg seems to startle Bash--he's not planning on sex tonight, with Jeff in this state. But he puts on a smile. "Do you want me to carry you, or can you walk?"

He's getting the fuller picture of Jeff, now.

[cacophonish]

"Oh... I love getting swept off my feet," he sighs, before making an effort to stand. He's pretty fucking wobbly, but, hey, he's sure he can walk in a relatively straight line. Maybe. He just needs a few moments. "Probably... probably too heavy to carry the whole way," he laughs. "I'm good, I can, uh... yeah, I can walk."

[midnightroads]

"Don't worry about how heavy you are. I'm a bit stronger than I look." But Bash waits for Jeff to decide, lingering nearby thoughtfully. He does ask the bartender for a glass of water, quietly offering it to Jeff.

[cacophonish]

Jeff takes a few sips of the offered water. Even lukewarm and in a dirty glass, it tastes like something pure, and refreshing, the way water always does after a few too many drinks.

"Okay." He sets the glass down and loops both arms around Bash's shoulders. "You can carry me. It'ssss... probably not too bad a walk."