[log] how deep are we gonna go with this?

[bywolves]

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.

Starters below!

Comments

[bywolves]

I remember. [ He breathes out. He sinks back down, curling up next to Alfie. Alfie's bigger again, easier to settle against. ] All of those years. Sixty or so for me. They're fuzzy, but I remember.

[devoutish]

Fucking hell.

[He closes his eyes again, his face slackening.]

-- The memories will fade even more, with time.

[He doesn't sound at all convinced.]

[bywolves]

[ Maybe. Maybe not. Royce doesn't sound or look convinced, either. He also doesn't know what to say, or how to even start to sort through all his memories. There's so much.

Royce opens his mouth, then closes it. Then tries again. ]

It felt real.

[devoutish]

It still feels real.

[He runs a hand over his own face, feeling for extra wrinkles.]

Don't know what I would've done if you weren't with me.

[bywolves]

I don't know what I would've done either.

[ Royce turns to nose at Alfie, a leftover natural instinct. He only hesitates for a second after. ]

Glad it wasn't. Real. I mean.

[devoutish]

[Alfie has zero problems with this. Touch his face all you want, buddy.]

Mm-- do we really have bread, or was that only in the dream?

[bywolves]

I can check. I think - I think we have some left.

We should stop by the grocery store again. [ He wants bread. It's nice to want, so of course he wants to keep going to the place that gives him any sort of emotion at all. He'll get off the bed for a second to go check their bags. As he does: ]

I don't know what to think of everything.

[devoutish]

[With Royce gone, Alfie curls into himself in the empty space, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. He's quiet for a few long moments, as if he hadn't heard him. Then:]

Yeah-- yeah, sorry, mate. I haven't got a clue myself.

[bywolves]

[ They have the piece that he'd tried to force Alfie to eat the day before. It's got like two strips taken from it. Royce frowns. ]

Now I know what it's like trying to get someone who doesn't want to eat to eat. [ Royce mutters, almost too soft for Alfie to hear. He stays crouched by their bags. ]

Do you want me to heat this up again?

[devoutish]

The tea, or the bread?

[bywolves]

Either. Both.

[devoutish]

Would you accept it if I told you I wasn't hungry?

[bywolves]

Would you accept it if I told you I wasn't hungry?

[devoutish]

Right now I think I would, yeah.

[bywolves]

[ Royce sighs, and then plops down where he's crouched. He's cold, but he's tired from the weight of all of those years on his shoulders. ]

Yeah. All right.

[devoutish]

[Alfie just looks at him, because Royce, why are you all the way over there when you could be back in bed with him. Pls.

He's too tired to try to cheer Royce up. He's too tired for jokes; too tired for anything but this monosyllabic conversation they're having right now. He still feels eighty years old.

Quietly, he starts to hum a Russian lullaby - the same one he'd sung for Royce that last night in the shed.]

[bywolves]

[ It's a fair enough question, which Royce thinks about as he sort of just flops there. When Alfie starts to hum, Royce pulls himself up to stand, shivering, and then heads back to the bed, sliding under the covers. He's less - hesitant isn't the word, but maybe reserved. Before, curling up with Alfie was always with just the slightest bit of holding back. Like a cat on a stranger's lap, comfortable but ready to bolt if necessary.

But now, with years in his head and the lack of personal space from all those years, he just curls up right against Alfie's side, almost instinctively trying to big spoon him. Melts right there. He rests his head on Alfie's shoulder and closes his eyes, listening. ]

[devoutish]

[He doesn't break with the humming at all - he just keeps going, dropping an arm around Royce as he does so. After a few more bars, his voice stutters, uncertain.]

I forget this bit. What comes next.

[bywolves]

[ A beat. Royce thinks about that. It hurts to hear. ]

Make it up. [ He says, firmly. ] Make it your own.

[devoutish]

Oh, I can't do that; I'm no musician.

[But he tries! It actually doesn't sound terrible - it's simpler and more repetitive than the original tune, but melody-wise, it fits with it well.]

[bywolves]

[ When there's a point that he pauses, Royce noses at his neck. ]

Clearly you can. [ Believe in yourself, Alfie. ]

[devoutish]

[He tilts his head a little to give Royce better access. It's a half-unconscious movement.]

Alfred Solomons, composer.

[bywolves]

[ Royce settles there, pretty much just warming his face. It feels weird, but it feels natural, too. ]

Missed your true calling. [ Royce murmurs. There's a pause, then: ] Alfie.

[devoutish]

Mm?

[bywolves]

[ He doesn't know how to phrase what he wants to say. Don't ever get old? That's stupid. Please don't get frail? Also ridiculous. Royce swallows hard, trying to articulate. ]

I'll stay with you. [ He says finally. It's not what he wants to say, but what he wants to say is more of a feeling than anything. ] Until the end.