rpg_palace | Harry and Christian talk. (Reply)

(This log takes place immediately following the log between Harry and Marton)

Harry stood in front of Christian's door for the second time that afternoon, although in a very different mood than the one he'd been in the last time. He'd promised Marton to try to be himself with Christian, but he hadn't realized how difficult that might be- he hadn't spoken to Christian in person since the morning he'd punched him across the face, and he was struggling to think of what to say. Now that he had been told to be 'normal', he was finding normal difficult to find.

What the fuck are you going to say? How do you react, when you know that he's been through something that left Marton looking the way he does... never mind how Christian will look. How are you going to tell him about Johnny, and do all this while being "normal Harry"... whoever the fuck that is now?

Standing in front of the door isn't providing Harry with any answers, so with a deep breath, and a quick prayer to whatever god might be on his team today, Harry opened the door, and walked in, his footsteps nearly silent. He padded to the bedroom, trying to work out an opening line of some kind, something that isn't a false platitude or the cold-cock to the cheek he'd used last time.

Peering around the frame of the open bedroom door, Harry snorted quietly. All that agonizing, and he's asleep. Figures. Harry moved across the floor as quietly as possible, and dropped down in the chair next to the bed, laying his crumpled letter from Johnny on a nearby table. He took in Christian's appearance... he was hooked up to an IV, and looked thinner than the last time he'd seen him. There were dark circles around his eyes, and his skin was pale. But Harry had seen worse. They both had. He settled into the chair to wait, his thoughts swirling from his conversation with Marton.

Christian woke quietly. His breathing did not change, nor did his eyelids flicker but he had gone from a deep sleep to instant awareness just like he always did. That was good; meant the damned drugs had finally worn off. He heard soft exhalations coming from the chair beside the bed and, assuming it was his father, he opened his eyes, a little smile on his face. "Harry?" he said, more than a little surprised. "What are you doing here?" Why, he meant and the question was in his voice. Why have you come? We're not talking. All of it was implicit on his tone and in the widening of his eyes as he blinked against the glare of the sun through the window.

Harry watched Christian wake, and would have smiled at the surprise in his voice if he hadn't been so nervous about the coming conversation. "Hey, Christian. I'm back... obviously. And it seems some things have changed since I left. Came by to talk to you about them, and ran into Marton, who dragged me off for a chat before he let me in to see you. Need anything?" Harry adds the offer at the end, which he would have made to anyone lying in a bed, strapped to an IV. He doesn't know if he's been normal, but he knows that he's been honest so far... he can only hope that will do.

He knows. Christian waited to feel ashamed, embarrassed, wretched even but it didn't come. He was numb, scoured clean and too enervated to care. "No, I'm good." he said carefully, noting Harry's distress. He didn't even seem to have the energy available for it to have any kind of impact on him. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked politely.

Harry winced inwardly. Marton was right... telling him about Johnny wasn't going to help. But he couldn't keep it from him either. There was no way around it- the only way out was going to be through. "It's about Johnny. He left Palace. Couple days ago from what I can tell." Harry has absolutely no idea how Christian will take this, but this careful calmness he was currently displaying is creeping Harry out a little.

The false calm shatters and all at once Christian feels shredded raw, his breath hitched painfully in his chest and his hands curl into fists. "What?" It's no more than a horrified whisper but his face is showing the true impact of the news.

Well fuck. Calm's all gone now. Now what the fuck do you say?
"He left Christian. Couple days after I went away I think... thought it was a good time because I wouldn't be able to track him down. Probably about the same time all this really kicked into gear for you." Harry spoke quietly, looking right at Christian, but not forcing him to make eye contact.

Oh God! Oh Christ! Gone! Christian couldn't get past that word for the longest time. But eventually, after long painful moments of agony in his chest, his body forced him to take a breath and his mind slowly got into sync once more. Where? How? He looked up at Harry to ask the question, but his eyes slid away of their own accord until he was squinting against the light again. "Where'd he . . . How do you know? Found out?" he managed, squeezing his eyes tight shut and ruthlessly stilling the hand that wanted to come up and wipe away the moisture leaking from the corners of his eyes.

"He left a package in my office with a letter... dropped it off with my assistant. I only got it about, oh hell, not two hours ago. And I don't know where he's gone... he was pretty careful not to drop any hints to where he might have gone... although honestly, I don't even think he knows where he's heading, so it's not hard to avoid." Harry is in agony watching Christian, especially given the fact that his reaction to the news was to try to come and yell at him about 'letting' Johnny get away. Thank god Marton stopped me before I got in the door.

Christian fixed on the one word, "Letter?" he asked. He was trying his damnedest to fight down the despair, the feeling of utter failure that was threatening to swamp him and grabbed onto the one- word lifeline like a drowning man. "Did he . . . did he say why?"

Harry paused, reluctant to explain. "Yeah, he did. He was feeling like he was too sheltered... too safe at Palace. He felt safe, and warm, and protected, and loved, but he also felt like a pet. He said he wanted to prove that he could take care of himself, take responsibility for himself, instead of just being cared for by others. By us." Harry decided to leave out the part about Johnny feeling responsible for the break between Christian and himself for the moment. He doesn't intend to keep it from him, but overloading him with too many reasons didn't seem like a good option right now. "He also said how much he appreciated everything we did for him."

Lying very still, Christian processed all this, the anxiety he'd been feeling slowly easing just a little. He knew he should move, had to say something, that Harry was waiting for a response, but time had slowed down and a moment turned into several minute's worth of silence. He let out a deep breath and pushed himself up into a sitting position, running his fingers through his hair with such scant regard for the IV line that it tugged at his skin. "Makes sense." he said. He still couldn't meet Harry's eyes, but now, as some kind of logical thought began to replace the panic, he was realizing that eye contact was not going to be an option with anyone for a while. Still under, he thought. Just a little. He slid his gaze across Harry's face as a substitute. "What do you think?" he asked finally.

"He has a point... one that I really don't want to concede, and don't entirely agree with, but it's valid." Harry admitted, glad that Christian is talking to him about it. "I hadn't thought about it that way... and it's not something I was trying to do, but I can see why he'd feel that way. I just wanted to keep him safe... keep him from having anything bad happen, but it's already too late for that. I guess I'm just going to have to accept that it's his decision to make and let him go... even though saying that out loud is damn near fucking killing me." Harry hadn't realized he'd been thinking about this in the back of his head since he read the letter, but it was true. It wasn't his choice to make- it never had been.

"Wants to make his own way." Christian breathed. "Yeah, I can understand that. Not easy to let go though, is it?" he said, asking for reassurance that he wasn't alone in feeling like this. His emotions were see-sawing wildly, from blanket calm to near-despair and, while he understood why he was like that, knowing made little difference to his lack of control over it. He plucked distractedly at the covers, not daring to look at Harry. He'd never felt so adrift, so completely unanchored in his life and feeling this way was have a dire effect on his confidence.

"Gods, really not. Some of the stuff he wrote in the letter... I just don't know how to respond to it, and I can't even try, because there's no one to respond to- just a piece of paper." Harry thought for a moment, looking at the letter. "Christian- didn't you get one too? Obviously he managed to avoid you in person before leaving, but he wouldn't have walked out and left nothing." Harry hadn't thought about this until now, but it does make sense.

The thought had occurred to Christian too. He shrugged. "I don't know." he said, trying for a smile and managing a tiny quirk of his lips. "Not exactly been up with the post lately."

Harry let out a gentle snort. "No kidding. Lemme guess, too lazy to go pick it up yourself, forgot to ask the butler to do it for you? Royalty. Where's yours go to anyway?" Harry is surprised that he's able to tease at all, but right now it's laugh or cry.

Christian still can't manage to look up and it's annoying him but he does laugh a little at Harry's attempt at a joke. Things might not be good between them, but at least they're better. "Dad's office." he tells him. "If you give me my com . . ." He looked around and spotted it lying on the table where he'd left it, what? Three nights ago? Four? He couldn't remember. He desperately wanted to know if Johnny had left him anything and was half afraid that he hadn't.

Harry followed Christian's gaze to the com, and picked it up, leaning over to hand it to him. "Right here."

Christian reached for it, entirely forgetting the IV line and the soreness of abused muscles and flesh. He gasped, unable to stop the sound escaping and pulled his hand back, cradling his elbow. "Damn! Fuck!" he muttered under his breath. "Sorry Harry." he looked up briefly. "Maybe you could . . .?"

Harry winced. "Sorry, mate, should have thought about that. I can do it, no problem- faster with two hands anyway." Harry turned on the com, and sent a quick sms, requesting that Christian's mail be delivered to his room. "Won't take long. Want I should check the inbox? See if anyone wrote you while you were MIA?" Harry looked over at Christian, still not pushing for eye contact since Christian doesn't seem to want to go there.

"Please." Struggling to get comfortable again and failing, Christian just sighed and subsided back against his pile of pillows. He was teetering again, tears over nothing specific threatening to fall from behind his tightly closed eyes and there wasn't a fucking thing he could do about it. It wasn't fair, none of this was fucking fair on any of them and he wished fervently that Johnny was here right now! He could certainly use a little of his magic.

Harry focuses on the com, trying to give Christian a moment to either find control, or lose it, whichever direction he needs to go in. "Letter from ... Cillian, actually. You want I should read it to you?" Harry hasn't talked to Cillian since before the auction, and never did ask what happened afterwards. Or talk about what he saw during.

Cillian. Jeez! More failures. "Can you read it please?" Christian can't bring himself to care if Harry sees something he ordinarily wouldn't or shouldn't. Besides, he doubts that the message is anything too private or personal, not after their last encounter.

Harry nodded, and started to read the email aloud.

Christian, Hi, it's me, Cilli. I just...wanted to email and check on you. You had me worried after our last meeting, and I hadn't heard from you and...well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And say again that if you want to talk, or whatever, I'm here. I want to be here for you. I hope you're doing okay, and if you aren't, that someone is looking after you. That you'll let them. I'll talk to you soon. Cilli

Harry looked over at Christian. "He's worried about you. Want me to send anything?" Harry asked quietly.

. . ." He's plucking at the covers again, a nervous habit he discarded years ago and he forces himself to stop, to put his hands in his lap and leave them there. "Just tell him I'm okay." he said. "Been sick, getting better, all that stuff. That I'll come see him when I'm better." Christian nodded to himself. That'd do. He looked up at the sound of a knock on the outer doors. "Come in." he called out, watching from the corner of his eye as Harry sent the message. One of the day staff bought in a bundle of papers and envelopes and he smiled and thanked her as she laid them beside him on the bed.

*Cillian. Thanks for checking in. I pushed myself too far, and it came back and bit me. I'm doing better now though, and I'm being well taken care of, so don't worry. I’ll look you up when I’m all better. Thanks again. Christian.*

Harry ghosted the email and sent it off as Christian's post is brought in and placed beside the bed. Placing the com off to the side, Harry reached for the stack, and found the envelope with the handwriting he now recognized as Johnny's. He held it up, unconsciously pulling the knife from his pocket and slitting the envelope open without thinking about it, then flicking his knife shut again and returning it to his belt. About to pull the contents from the envelope and read them, as he did the email, Harry stopped himself. An email from Cillian is one thing. This... "Here. I knew he'd leave something." Harry stood and held the envelope out to Christian.

Christian took it from him with hands that had just started to tremble. He laid it down on the covers in his lap and stared at it, hands fisted to hide the shake and said nothing. Read it, damn you, he told himself before glancing helplessly up at Harry. He couldn't do this with Harry there and he pleaded with his eyes for Harry to rescue him. The other man stood up and looked down at him, smiling slightly.

"I'll go. I got to read mine in private. 'S only fair. I'm sure Marton'll be in to check on you in a few anyway." Harry gave Christian a wink.

"Thanks Harry." The simple sentence was full of gratitude for more than just Harry's tact and Christian smiled at him as he turned in the doorway, his hands already reaching for the envelope. . . continues . . .