[Tempus wasn't usually a fan of his late shifts at the cafe. He didn't usually need to sleep much anyways, but he was one of the firm believes in "early to bed, early to rise". So when he's let out late, he usually heads straight to his room.
Luckily, he happened to make a quick run past Serif's room, and that is enough for him to catch the glint of light there. He peers inside to see his sibling hunched over a piece of paper. Odd. What is he writing at this time of night?
He doesn't really want to be sneaky, but he knows Serif won't show what he's working on willingly. And the great Tempus is excellent with stealth missions. So he tiptoes over to were Serif is sitting, glancing over his shoulder to see what he can read. Something about him seeing Serif for who he really is? Being disappointed? That doesn't sound right...
He might make the slightest sound of disapproval, alerting his brother to his presence.]
[Serif's usually more observant than this - sneaking up on him is incredibly hard - but his mind is someplace else tonight. So as he's sorting through the notes, since he's still not sure if he'll get another response, he doesn't even notice that there's anyone else present.
At least until he hears a noise and a startled gasp escapes. The notes fall to the floor.]
What-
[He quickly picks up the notes and stuffs them away. No one else needs to be reading those. Only then does he turn to look at the source of the noise.
...Oh.]
...Bro?
[Tempus will probably notice right away that Serif looks like hell. He always looks tired, but not like this. The complete lack of sleep, the nightmares that caused that in the first place, and the conversation that was keeping him up, have all taken their toll on him.
Then there's the (by now mostly dry) ketchup stains on his clothes, not to mention the scattered empty bottles around the place.]
What're you doing here so late? Heh...
[He just has to keep his voice steady. Everything is fine. Everything is just fine.]
[He can already tell something is wrong by the fact that Serif doesn't catch him until it's practically too late. That's not like Serif. He's far more observant most days. Is he just tired?
He watches him hasten to try to put the notes away, and only vaguely wonders why he's trying to hide them. He's much more worried about the fact that his brother looks awful almost sick with sleep deprivation, and probably some sort of unpleasant emotion. The mess of bottles and stains aren't commented on, even if they're noticed.]
...Serif. I was just coming back from work... what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost. Who would be writing to you so late?
[He can't stop himself from being curious, even if he knows Serif would probably do better if Tempus eased into this.]
[Getting right to it. Ah, damn. Well, then again, it's not like Serif really has an answer there. He glances away for a moment.]
Nah, pretty sure all I saw was a skeleton. Heh heh... [...] But uh, heh, wish I knew that...
[He still doesn't know who this even was, after all. He's already making a list of possible suspects in his mind, but even if he makes a reasonable guess he can't be sure.]
Oh, you know. Can't sleep every night away, right? At this rate I might get tired of it.
Heh...
[...Even he didn't find that one funny, judging from the expression on his face and the very weak laugh. Tempus honestly doesn't even need to comment on it, because Serif looks like he regrets that one right away.]
I... uh... [Serif looks away from his brother, deciding to stare at the floor instead. The lights in his eyes dim a little - not entirely and not through any conscious effort... it's more as if even keeping those on is costing too much energy.] Just... kind've had a rough night, I guess...
[He can feel himself itching to make a comment and scold his brother, but it looks like Serif is already scolding himself. Tempus just stays silent, watching his brother carefully, and hesitantly bringing a hand forward to rest it on his shoulder.]
A rough night is something that should be talked about. Serif, please tell me what's going on?
...I don't want to betray your trust, but I did see some of what those notes entailed. If you don't want me to assume the worst, it'd be better to tell me the truth.
[Serif tenses up a little when his brother touches his shoulder, but he doesn't pull away or anything.
He's trying to figure out what to say, how to talk about this without actually talking about it, but then Tempus mentions he saw the notes. Serif looks up immediately, looking very worried, uncomfortable, and almost a little... scared?]
You saw--
[Of all the conversations he could see... No, no, no. This is bad.]
[He's... tense. Why is he tense? Tempus thought Serif loved his hugs. He isn't sure whether to continue rubbing his brother's shoulder now, especially with that fearful look on his face.
...Eventually, he pulls it away and rests his hands in front of him, awkwardly tapping his fingerbones together.]
Not a lot... just. Something about you disappointing me, once I... realized who you really are. It sounded ridiculous, but... I can't help but be worried. After all, you may pretend hurtful jabs go right through you-
[Ugh.]
But I know that they can still sting you. And I feel like... that letter was talking about something you've been worried about for a while.
[Serif doesn't relax when Tempus pulls away, staying just as tense. So that's the part his brother read... That's still bad. But it could've been worse. It could've been the part about the promise he made.
And apparently he only saw pieces of it... Okay. Okay, that's good. There's some things in there he really can't explain to his brother. But even then, it only improves the situation by the tiniest amount.
The fact that he doesn't even react to the pun at all probably says a lot.]
I... uh... [What does he even say, really?] It was... [He can't tell Tempus what the conversation was about, obviously.] Just... [He can't be vague about it, not without bringing up the kid.] Um... [But he doesn't have a believable lie ready either.]
...
[He's at a loss. For a while, he doesn't say anything at all. Then he just sighs.]
It's... not something I can really talk about right now, bro.
[He's not even joking around. No matter how miserable Serif is, he almost always makes a half-baked pun, just to keep Tempus off his trail. His worry only increases with that, and mounts higher and higher as Serif stammers nervously...
Only for it to suddenly morph into anger as Serif refuses to speak to him. Once again. They've been together as long as Tempus can remember. They've been here on the island for over a month. Tempus had told Serif then what he was trying to accomplish here, but he had been willing to wait. He could be patient. He knew the truth would come out eventually...
But would it come out quickly enough to avoid more of these terrible events?
Tempus looks down at his brother with thinly veiled displeasure and disapproval.]
...Of course. It's never anything you can talk about 'right now', is it? It's never anything you'd discuss with your own brother.
[Serif knew, logically, that there was a limit to how often he could push his brother away. And it wasn't like he could blame Tempus for getting upset with him. He was trying to reach out and all Serif could do was shut him out. So it only made sense. He knew that.
But that didn't make the response hurt less. Nothing could make it hurt less.]
It's not-
[He stops himself, because honestly, he doesn't even really know where he was going with that sentence. Trying to deny things is only going to make this all even worse. And Tempus deserves better than a crappy lie, especially right now.
[Of course. He finally breaks and admits he can't take the waiting for his brother to confide in him, he finally allows himself to actually get frustrated despite the months of waiting... and for what?
For the same old response from Serif. A few words from a broken sentence and a hopeless apology. Tempus turns away for a moment, rubs a hand over his face. When he speaks again, his voice is cold.
He can't pretend to be optimistic right now.]
Yes, well. You should be. You know how worried I am about you, and yet no matter what I try, it's always the same. What is it about what you're hiding that's so important? Don't I deserve to know?
...Don't you realize how hard it is to keep going when all my efforts are this fruitless?
["More than you know" is what he really wants to say. What he would say, if he could be just a little more honest. But he can't, because even admitting something like that is saying too much. So instead he goes quiet for a bit.]
...I can imagine.
[Way to describe his entire freaking life, bro.]
Bro, you know that if I could tell you, I would. But I can't.
[It would inevitably ruin things. He's not sure in which way, exactly, but it would somehow and he can't take that risk.]
...Well, you know that if I could help you, I would. But... if you keep this up, I can't.
[That's really the only thing he can say. He has been trying so hard, and now he's starting to realize that maybe Serif was right. Maybe even the Witch couldn't fix all of this.
He gets back up to his feet, looks at the door.]
If you want to sit here and wallow in your own misery instead of letting me help you, I suppose there's nothing I can do tonight.
...I'd like you to at least try to sleep. Take care of yourself. But if you won't even listen to me when I say I want to help, I can't expect you to listen to that advice.
So tell me. Would you like to let someone who loves you more than anything take care of you and try to make you happy... or would you rather be alone?
[It hurts, Tempus being mad at him. And it's worse because Serif understands it. So it's not like he can argue. He'd be mad at himself too...
...No, he doesn't even need to imagine that. He is mad at himself. A wave of self loathing goes through him as his brother stands up and it honestly makes him feel physically ill.
He looks up at his brother while he talks. And he knows what kind of answer he wants to give. He wants to tell Tempus what's bothering him. He wants to tell him about the nightmare he had, about how real it felt, like he was really back in that golden hallway, facing a kid so unlike the one they'd gotten to know. He wants to tell him all about his 'pen-pal' and the promise he made and about everything...
Serif actually opens his mouth to speak, the words he wants to say the most already ready to go.
[That... wasn't the answer he wanted. He can tell from looking at his brother's body language it isn't the answer Serif wants to give. Neither of them is happy with this, so why can't they just... do something that would finally allow them to be happy?
He wants to cry. He wants to scream. He wants to grab Serif's hoodie and shake him around. He wants to hug him and never let go.
...But instead, he just walks out of the room, down the hallway, up to his bedroom, and collapses onto his futon.
[Serif shuts his eyesockets tightly and doesn't open them again until he hears his brother leave the room. He releases a shaky breath. When... was the last time talking to his brother had ended badly? He doesn't remember.
He's not sure if it's the sleep deprivation, all the ketchup he drank, or all the emotions he's feeling right now - or, more likely, all of the above - but he feels really sick. He honestly thought he couldn't possibly feel worse tonight, but his head is spinning and even though skeletons don't exactly have stomachs, he's still really nauseous. He figures at least half of that is pure guilt.
He's still so tired, but he doesn't want to know what will appear in his dreams if he tries to sleep now. As much as he just wants to lie down and never move again, that's just not going to keep him awake. Staying up here won't help. Going back to the lounge... that means there's a big risk of running into other people. Which was fine earlier, when the conversation helped keep him distracted.
Now he just feels empty and he's not sure if it's a good idea for other people to see him like that.
...
Serif just sits there, not moving, for at least twenty more minutes, before he finally forces himself to get up and use a shortcut to get to the roof. Maybe looking at the sky for a while will help.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I wasn't sure where to put this. let's go with action at this point maybe?
Luckily, he happened to make a quick run past Serif's room, and that is enough for him to catch the glint of light there. He peers inside to see his sibling hunched over a piece of paper. Odd. What is he writing at this time of night?
He doesn't really want to be sneaky, but he knows Serif won't show what he's working on willingly. And the great Tempus is excellent with stealth missions. So he tiptoes over to were Serif is sitting, glancing over his shoulder to see what he can read. Something about him seeing Serif for who he really is? Being disappointed? That doesn't sound right...
He might make the slightest sound of disapproval, alerting his brother to his presence.]
action it is!
At least until he hears a noise and a startled gasp escapes. The notes fall to the floor.]
What-
[He quickly picks up the notes and stuffs them away. No one else needs to be reading those. Only then does he turn to look at the source of the noise.
...Oh.]
...Bro?
[Tempus will probably notice right away that Serif looks like hell. He always looks tired, but not like this. The complete lack of sleep, the nightmares that caused that in the first place, and the conversation that was keeping him up, have all taken their toll on him.
Then there's the (by now mostly dry) ketchup stains on his clothes, not to mention the scattered empty bottles around the place.]
What're you doing here so late? Heh...
[He just has to keep his voice steady. Everything is fine. Everything is just fine.]
no subject
He watches him hasten to try to put the notes away, and only vaguely wonders why he's trying to hide them. He's much more worried about the fact that his brother looks awful almost sick with sleep deprivation, and probably some sort of unpleasant emotion. The mess of bottles and stains aren't commented on, even if they're noticed.]
...Serif. I was just coming back from work... what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost. Who would be writing to you so late?
[He can't stop himself from being curious, even if he knows Serif would probably do better if Tempus eased into this.]
no subject
Nah, pretty sure all I saw was a skeleton. Heh heh... [...] But uh, heh, wish I knew that...
[He still doesn't know who this even was, after all. He's already making a list of possible suspects in his mind, but even if he makes a reasonable guess he can't be sure.]
Just some jerk.
no subject
[That's not even a decent pun. Something must be wrong.]
So you don't know who it was? I'm sorry someone was bothering you. It must have been hard to sleep through that. Are they done now, at least?
no subject
[...Because that isn't a massive red flag or anything.]
Yeah, looks like it. Guess they got bored. Or maybe they just ran out of things to say, who knows.
no subject
[The letter-writing bully is ignored for now, as Tempus sits down beside his brother, expression stern and worried.]
What happened?
no subject
Heh...
[...Even he didn't find that one funny, judging from the expression on his face and the very weak laugh. Tempus honestly doesn't even need to comment on it, because Serif looks like he regrets that one right away.]
I... uh... [Serif looks away from his brother, deciding to stare at the floor instead. The lights in his eyes dim a little - not entirely and not through any conscious effort... it's more as if even keeping those on is costing too much energy.] Just... kind've had a rough night, I guess...
no subject
A rough night is something that should be talked about. Serif, please tell me what's going on?
...I don't want to betray your trust, but I did see some of what those notes entailed. If you don't want me to assume the worst, it'd be better to tell me the truth.
no subject
He's trying to figure out what to say, how to talk about this without actually talking about it, but then Tempus mentions he saw the notes. Serif looks up immediately, looking very worried, uncomfortable, and almost a little... scared?]
You saw--
[Of all the conversations he could see... No, no, no. This is bad.]
What... did you read?
no subject
...Eventually, he pulls it away and rests his hands in front of him, awkwardly tapping his fingerbones together.]
Not a lot... just. Something about you disappointing me, once I... realized who you really are. It sounded ridiculous, but... I can't help but be worried. After all, you may pretend hurtful jabs go right through you-
[Ugh.]
But I know that they can still sting you. And I feel like... that letter was talking about something you've been worried about for a while.
no subject
And apparently he only saw pieces of it... Okay. Okay, that's good. There's some things in there he really can't explain to his brother. But even then, it only improves the situation by the tiniest amount.
The fact that he doesn't even react to the pun at all probably says a lot.]
I... uh... [What does he even say, really?] It was... [He can't tell Tempus what the conversation was about, obviously.] Just... [He can't be vague about it, not without bringing up the kid.] Um... [But he doesn't have a believable lie ready either.]
...
[He's at a loss. For a while, he doesn't say anything at all. Then he just sighs.]
It's... not something I can really talk about right now, bro.
no subject
Only for it to suddenly morph into anger as Serif refuses to speak to him. Once again. They've been together as long as Tempus can remember. They've been here on the island for over a month. Tempus had told Serif then what he was trying to accomplish here, but he had been willing to wait. He could be patient. He knew the truth would come out eventually...
But would it come out quickly enough to avoid more of these terrible events?
Tempus looks down at his brother with thinly veiled displeasure and disapproval.]
...Of course. It's never anything you can talk about 'right now', is it? It's never anything you'd discuss with your own brother.
no subject
But that didn't make the response hurt less. Nothing could make it hurt less.]
It's not-
[He stops himself, because honestly, he doesn't even really know where he was going with that sentence. Trying to deny things is only going to make this all even worse. And Tempus deserves better than a crappy lie, especially right now.
God, he's just so tired.]
...
I'm sorry.
no subject
For the same old response from Serif. A few words from a broken sentence and a hopeless apology. Tempus turns away for a moment, rubs a hand over his face. When he speaks again, his voice is cold.
He can't pretend to be optimistic right now.]
Yes, well. You should be. You know how worried I am about you, and yet no matter what I try, it's always the same. What is it about what you're hiding that's so important? Don't I deserve to know?
...Don't you realize how hard it is to keep going when all my efforts are this fruitless?
no subject
...I can imagine.
[Way to describe his entire freaking life, bro.]
Bro, you know that if I could tell you, I would. But I can't.
[It would inevitably ruin things. He's not sure in which way, exactly, but it would somehow and he can't take that risk.]
no subject
[That's really the only thing he can say. He has been trying so hard, and now he's starting to realize that maybe Serif was right. Maybe even the Witch couldn't fix all of this.
He gets back up to his feet, looks at the door.]
If you want to sit here and wallow in your own misery instead of letting me help you, I suppose there's nothing I can do tonight.
...I'd like you to at least try to sleep. Take care of yourself. But if you won't even listen to me when I say I want to help, I can't expect you to listen to that advice.
So tell me. Would you like to let someone who loves you more than anything take care of you and try to make you happy... or would you rather be alone?
1/2
...No, he doesn't even need to imagine that. He is mad at himself. A wave of self loathing goes through him as his brother stands up and it honestly makes him feel physically ill.
He looks up at his brother while he talks. And he knows what kind of answer he wants to give. He wants to tell Tempus what's bothering him. He wants to tell him about the nightmare he had, about how real it felt, like he was really back in that golden hallway, facing a kid so unlike the one they'd gotten to know. He wants to tell him all about his 'pen-pal' and the promise he made and about everything...
Serif actually opens his mouth to speak, the words he wants to say the most already ready to go.
"I don't want to be alone."]
2/2
As much as he wishes he could start being honest now, it's a little late to turn back.
He doesn't think he could force the words out even if he tried, anyway.]
...
Night, bro.
no subject
He wants to cry. He wants to scream. He wants to grab Serif's hoodie and shake him around. He wants to hug him and never let go.
...But instead, he just walks out of the room, down the hallway, up to his bedroom, and collapses onto his futon.
For once in his life, Tempus feels exhausted.]
no subject
He's not sure if it's the sleep deprivation, all the ketchup he drank, or all the emotions he's feeling right now - or, more likely, all of the above - but he feels really sick. He honestly thought he couldn't possibly feel worse tonight, but his head is spinning and even though skeletons don't exactly have stomachs, he's still really nauseous. He figures at least half of that is pure guilt.
He's still so tired, but he doesn't want to know what will appear in his dreams if he tries to sleep now. As much as he just wants to lie down and never move again, that's just not going to keep him awake. Staying up here won't help. Going back to the lounge... that means there's a big risk of running into other people. Which was fine earlier, when the conversation helped keep him distracted.
Now he just feels empty and he's not sure if it's a good idea for other people to see him like that.
...
Serif just sits there, not moving, for at least twenty more minutes, before he finally forces himself to get up and use a shortcut to get to the roof. Maybe looking at the sky for a while will help.
(...It doesn't.) ]