Characters: Alfie and Royce Location: Downtown Date: Day 292 to Day 295 Summary: Exposure effects, a brief reprieve, and then event shenanigans. Warnings: Nothing yet, will update if anything comes up.
[ That actually makes Royce pause. Because - yes, he knows, by this point. But Alfie says it, straight up, no strings attached, point blank. Over a year and Alfie still manages to surprise Royce.
After a moment, Royce turns a little into Alfie's lean, hugging him. It's a bit awkward with all the bags and things, but he makes it work. ]
Okay. [ It's very soft. ] I wasn't planning on leaving you, either.
[Alfie presses his face down against the top of Royce's head and shrugs the straps of his bag into the crooks of his elbows, so he's free to hug back.]
[ Royce will just... stay there for a while. A few minutes. It's scary sometimes how much he needs this. For those few minutes, he takes advantage of the comfort, the reassurance, and then finally he pulls away. Reluctantly.
Alfie's warm and safe. Royce wishes he knew how much. ]
Alright. Into the snow. [ Royce says after a moment, adjusting his own bags. ]
[Into the snow and to the hotel they go. And the next day, when they wake up, Alfie is an eighty-year old man.
He sees nothing strange about this. He's been in Norfinbury for almost half his life by this point, after all. Waking up in the body of an elderly, broken man isn't new for him. And as usual, he doesn't get up immediately. He shifts closer to Royce, and tries to catch a few more minutes of sleep.]
[ Royce sees nothing strange about this either. When Alfie stirs, Royce just pulls him closer, curling up into the blankets with a soft little sound of discontent. He settles after a moment, still mostly asleep, wrapped around Alfie as the big spoon.
Royce hasn't gotten any younger, sure, but physically, he hasn't gotten much older, either. He's similar to the way he's always looked, though his hair is short and has a few significant streaks of grey through it. Maybe there's a few more wrinkles than before. But he's a hundred, and he only just barely looks middle-aged.
He doesn't bother moving. They have nowhere to be. Nowhere to go. They can sleep as long as they want to. ]
[Somewhere along the line, Royce had switched to being the big spoon more often than not - Alfie's all but withered away. He'd been too skinny before, but now he's practically skeletal (though he doesn't eat any less than he'd used to), and he's lost a good six inches from his height. He can't wrap Royce up so easily anymore.]
Awake?
[He says it very quietly, not wanting to disturb him if he isn't.]
Mmhm. [ Royce hums, not opening his eyes. He pats carefully at Alfie's arm, almost absently. He worries. Consistently. It's a constant thought at the back of his mind - will Alfie wake up the next morning? He's never sure. ]
I feel a thousand. [ Royce says, pulling the blankets closer around them. The kiss on the cheek just makes him smile a little. ] Bones and joints are as creaky as yours.
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[Standing now, his coat on and his bags shouldered, he leans into Royce.]
I'll never leave you, mate.
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After a moment, Royce turns a little into Alfie's lean, hugging him. It's a bit awkward with all the bags and things, but he makes it work. ]
Okay. [ It's very soft. ] I wasn't planning on leaving you, either.
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[Alfie presses his face down against the top of Royce's head and shrugs the straps of his bag into the crooks of his elbows, so he's free to hug back.]
And I'm glad I've got you, too.
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Alfie's warm and safe. Royce wishes he knew how much. ]
Alright. Into the snow. [ Royce says after a moment, adjusting his own bags. ]
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He sees nothing strange about this. He's been in Norfinbury for almost half his life by this point, after all. Waking up in the body of an elderly, broken man isn't new for him. And as usual, he doesn't get up immediately. He shifts closer to Royce, and tries to catch a few more minutes of sleep.]
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Royce hasn't gotten any younger, sure, but physically, he hasn't gotten much older, either. He's similar to the way he's always looked, though his hair is short and has a few significant streaks of grey through it. Maybe there's a few more wrinkles than before. But he's a hundred, and he only just barely looks middle-aged.
He doesn't bother moving. They have nowhere to be. Nowhere to go. They can sleep as long as they want to. ]
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Awake?
[He says it very quietly, not wanting to disturb him if he isn't.]
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I'm awake.
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[He does this sometimes, always either very early in the morning or very late at night. Is it the Sabbath? A workday? A holiday?
What would he be doing if he were at home?]
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What day do you want it to be?
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[He shifts so he can see Royce's face, trying to tell if he's serious or not.]
I haven't been keeping track.
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Mm. I keep track. [ Meticulously. ] Eighty-one. You've had a lot of them.
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Still older than me, anyway. [ He's trying to make a joke out of it. Trying. ]
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[He kisses Royce on the cheek.]
You've got to be a thousand by now.
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[He repeats, curling closer.]
You could walk for days, I think.
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[He pokes Royce in the stomach.]
Have you got a present for me, then?
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I do, yes. You're going to have to wait until later for me to give it to you, though. We'll see if you deserve it. [ c: ]
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Not to you.
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[Royce kisses are the best kisses.]
Only a bit cruel, then.
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DW straight-up did not send me a notif for this wtf
dw please
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cw: suicide reference
cw: suicide reference
cw: suicide reference
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