[M] What You Deserve

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Fionn
Posts: 298
Joined: Wed Nov 28, 2018 11:17 am
Topics: 31
Race: Passive
Occupation: Misery
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Fri Mar 15, 2019 6:50 am

Ophus 14, 2718 | Night
Passive Dorms
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He was exhausted. Oh his work these days would certainly be considered 'handy' by many of his fellow servants but he still worked long hours and he still worked, no matter what anybody else might think. Besides, hanging over a hot tub of water with the steam billowing up into your face while you dunked and scrubbed and wrung out garments could take a lot out of you. Of course, Fionn had the added factor of his disorganised sleep patterns, which left him lying awake sometimes, too afraid or incapable of falling asleep after nightmares.

Tonight he had a new reason not to want to fall asleep immediately, a nicer reason than fear and anxiety about what he had in his dreams. Instead, the young man had decided that he was going to examine and enjoy some recently made moments. He hadn't been able to fully appreciate it at the time and afterwards, he'd had to try to repress it a bit so that he wouldn't end up grinning too much at laundry. Now though that he was in bed in the dark with no one to see him, the blond hugged his pillow and happily let the memories unfold, beginning to glow inwardly as something fluttered within him.

Lars. Coming to him, talking to him, not hating him. Holding him, kissing him. A few precious stolen moments that the teen held to him tightly, sighing and smiling in the dark. It had been so wonderful, better than he ever could have imagined, far more than he had thought he deserved.

Oh it certainly wasn't deserved, the inner whisper came, the young man mentally swatting at it.

He's forgiven me, he thinks there's good in me, he tried to reassure himself, what Lars had said and done proof enough of that. It wasn't a lie, he wasn't trying to lie to himself.

Oh that makes a change! Never told a lie in your life, eh?

He tried to shake it, he really did. It was harder these days to avoid hearing that voice from the depths, that harbinger of dark impulses and uncomfortable truths. When his mood dipped, it was always there to whisper to him from the dark, trying to drag him down there, driving him to places that he didn't want to go. Happiness was a hard won thing in this place and so it was always near at hand, waiting for some moment of doubt or anger or sadness. It always made things worse. He'd been dealing with it a lot lately, that inner voice driven out almost into the open by Ayden's return. His home life had helped cultivate it but Brunnhold had refined it. If he thought about it, it sounded a bit like his father and his former patron, the derisive whispers and guilt-inducing suggestions more them than him.

That voice couldn't be his own.

He tried to ignore it, block it out by drowning in the memory of Lars' embrace, the older man's head on his shoulder, the younger's lips pressed into his hair.

Why do you think he did it? Do you think he actually likes you?

He likes me, he does, I could see it in his eyes. He missed me. He likes me, he does, he argued although the doubt was there, his own thoughts an indication of the fact that he was trying to convince himself. Why did he want him really? What was there to like? What was there to miss? He'd been an ersehole towards him before the beating and the beating itself... that certainly wasn't reason to like someone. But that hadn't been him, not really. He hadn't wanted to hit him, he hadn't enjoyed it.

Did you not? Are you sure about that?

No! I didn't want to hurt him! It was sickening, the whole thing was awful and-

Oh you don't like hitting people? It doesn't turn you on?

No! Not with Lars! I didn't want to hurt Lars, it was Ayden! He was the one that got off on it!

But how difficult had it been for Ayden to get a response from him when he brought him to bed afterwards? How much had he leaned into his embrace, not quite as passive in the encounter as his protests and reluctance might have suggested. And the smell of his roommate's blood had still been in his nostrils, the adrenaline coursing through his blood while the parse had dragged sounds of approval from him.

He wasn't right, there was something wrong in him, there was. He could't blame Ayden for that. He'd hit people even without Ayden. He hadn't needed him to convince him to beat people up and the patron had just taken advantage of his inclinations to hurt, given his aggression and his violence some focus and direction. But at core, it was him, wasn't it? It had always been him.

I've done bad things but I'm not bad, I'm not. It's not my fault, it's not.

Oh, is it someone else who looks like you who happens to do everything? And who happens to use your body? That's nice. Good to know that you aren't the one who lies and steals and beats people and rapes-

No, no, I didn't mean any of it, I didn't! Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!

"No!" he moaned into the pillow, hugging it more tightly as he started to sob into it. He wasn't bad really, he'd just made bad choices and sometimes he just wanted to be seen or to have others hurt the way that he hurt. It was just-

It's all about you, isn't it? Selfish and pathetic. You're so selfish that you're gonna hang around with Lars and destroy him. You're too selfish to leave him alone.

No! He wants me around! I promised that I wouldn't keep my distance-

Yeah because your promises are so solid and reliable.

Frustration drove his fist into the side of the pillow, a choked growl coming out around the tears.

Who are you trying to hit now? Going to beat yourself up?

He tried to ignore it.

What was he meant to do though? Keep away from Lars and then... what? Keep watching him from a distance? Maybe have the older passive approach him and talk about avoidance again. Maybe he'd grow to hate him for his seeming dishonesty. He seemed to tell lies.

But you do though. You didn't tell anyone about the burns on your arms. You let them think Ayden did it.

It was true, of course, he'd just let it be assumed that the cigarette burns on the insides of his arms at the elbow had been caused by the same culprit as those behind his knees. If anyone thought about it, they might realise that it would be harder in many ways for someone to do that to the arms, harder to pin down. But they were also different in nature. The burns on his legs were less numerous but also deeper. It took patience to make each burn, the act of pressing the burning tobacco onto the skin successfully stubbing it out. Every burn was the sign of it having been relit and no matter how sadistic someone was, that was an act that took effort. Ayden had managed to twist and press down hard, the resulting injuries hardly superficial. He'd enjoyed hearing Fionn scream, even if it had been muffled. The marks on his arms were more numerous though, but also more superficial.

Fionn hadn't really had the nerve to press and twist it out like Ayden had but his self-inflicted injuries had inspired the parse. Obviously Ayden had done it because it wasn't as if the teen would have done it to himself... right? He hadn't told anyone the truth.

See, Lars knows you're pathetic. He doesn't know just how pathetic but he knows. He feels sorry for you. He kissed you because he pities you. Poor, poor Fionn, hasn't he got anyone to love him?

Shut up! It's not like that, he doesn't think- I'm not pathetic!

Oh, you're not a snivelling little shit who does things wrong so that people will take notice? Don't have that shard of glass hidden away that you're too scared to use? Too scared to end it all? You don't have to be stuck here, you have a way out and you know it. Everything wrong is your own fault, isn't it?

Fionn hugged the pillow harder, curling himself around it, wishing that it was a person, wishing it was Lars rather than some stuffed bit of cloth warmed by his own body heat.

Yes, he knew there was a way out. There were plenty of things that he could do, plenty of things that he could have done over the years that would have made his life much easier. It wasn't Brunnhold's treatment of passives or anything like that that was to blame really, most of what was wrong in his life was on him.

It's all my own fault.

All your own fault.

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