[He sits there another minute, watching the waves, thinking of the upwelling of irrepressible emotions that had convinced him earlier in the week to Beek something like do you think no one's come for us because they're happier we're gone, the lingering memories of the week before, the ache of wanting things he can't have and can only abbreviate in snippets and games and whimsy —
And before he can think better of it, he snatches up the to-go cup he'd brought with him and takes a deep, profound gulp.
Refreshing and sparkling, with a lemony zing.]
I wrote it for a girl. About a girl. You've seen her — she was in that memory of mine you witnessed in days past. It's not just that I miss her. It's that for some reason, for days upon days now, I can't get her off my mind. I know precisely the jests she would laugh at if she were here to hear them and the rejoinders she would offer in return and no one here comes close to comparing to it. She's a devil for impressions — does a picture-perfect one of me, for all that she looks and sounds nothing like me. And it's not as though I've never gone long lengths of time without her or even that I've any sort of claim to her outside of our friendship but for some reason I just can't...I can't stop...
[Three guess what he just drank. And what he's drinking more of, for good measure.]
I wrote it with her in mind because she would like that. She likes to keep things, to consider them hers. And I would frankly prefer to die again before she ever heard a note of it, and I said you wouldn't want it to be about you because I know you, and once you hear it you'll think so too. You'll be glad it's not.
[there's a bit of an ache, maybe, sympathetic, at the way he speaks about her. in how he goes on about how no one here compares, how he deflects and says he has no claim outside friendship, and if rynlan would be glad it's not about him after all, then... it must be one.
he also knows very well what that particular drink must be-- he tested it earlier this week-- so he just sort of... takes this all in, quiet for a few more moments.]
You're sure that you wouldn't ever want her to hear it instead?
Very. I'm far from the prince waiting at the end of that particular fairy tale. And it's not a love song; just a thorny mess of feelings that we'd all be better off for if they remained firmly unsaid.
[And yet he starts playing his tune anyway, and it's not so much a proper rendition of an actual song so much as it is he's picking through a melody, humming in places, supplying snippets of verses in others. A work in progress, all but for the one verse that seems to have inspired the whole thing:
Oh, I could say I need you / but then you'd realize that I want you / in ways I'm desperate to disguise behind "I love you"s / and all the rest of my lies / that all I wanted was to touch your face, your hands, and gaze into your eyes.
Thanks, insecurity week.
But when he's done, he sort of gives Ryn a look, as if seeking confirmation that yes, this really isn't the sort of song you want to be the subject of, now is it.]
[a work in progress, yes, but one he listens intently to nevertheless, his eyes closed so that he can take it in-- and, perhaps, so that thancred can have that little measure of privacy. of not being so exposed, just as rynlan prefers it himself, as he plays something so personal to him.
especially with that verse, the one that's clearly the most solid. it's-- thancred is right, he wouldn't want to be the subject of it because it would mean facing that, actually, he does. it's the exact kind of gesture he would be utterly charmed by, and if he's being honest, he's still charmed by it now. at the openness of this being shared, played just for him on a quiet beach even if it was made for someone else, and he's grateful thancred can't hear the way his heartbeat quickens.
he gives ryn that look, at the end, and rynlan finally opens his eyes to glance back at him, with a sympathetic smile.]
...I understand why you wouldn't want to play it for her, but- it is beautiful, you know.
'Tis strange how that one bit just...fell into place, I suppose. It's true. We did that for a time, early on in our acquaintance — played games of romance neither of us meant, for the sake of filling one void or another. It does do the trick, in small measures.
[His brain to mouth filter really is completely gone at this point, and self-inflicted while he's at it. He wiggles his toes where they're buried in the sand, letting the grains get between them.]
They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Hard to say whether all this yearning carries much weight to begin with, or if it's just a way of coping with being dead. Not just dead, either; dead and lonely and jealous. I wouldn't wish this place on anyone but sometimes watching Nav and Harrow, and Lu Bixing and his lover — what I wouldn't do for a familiar face, myself.
...suppose I know what you mean. Haven't had anything like that since Aren, myself-- haven't wanted to. But seeing them is still-
It's good that they have each other the way they do, it really is, but I'd be lying if I said I weren't jealous of Lin and Bixing especially.
[to have someone like that even in death, to keep them close-- it stings, at times, when death separated him from his own other half and sent him somewhere he's certain aren would never be. if they had to be here at all... they're lucky for it.]
I know. And I shouldn't impose on you as much as I do. I know full well I do it, and that it's hardly fair to you.
[He sets the mandolin carefully aside at last, leaning back in the sand until he can feel the grains between strands of his hair, familiar-soft against the nape of his neck. If he pretends, he can almost imagine the stars in the Eorzean sky (Urianger's constellations, the Bole and Spear and all that, which he always pretended to never pay attention to and really did) overhead instead of just the artificial atmosphere.]
I offered you my star because I thought you were unhappy on yours. What you'd said about most of your friends really being more his than yours — I thought you were lonely, and how I could imagine a good dozen people you would get along with on Eitherys. 'Twas just because I don't like the thought of you being lonely. And because I know that's not something I can remedy on my own, other than to offer you that.
I've- tended to keep my distance, since then. Better that way. I'm used to it.
[easier that way. if he just doesn't get close to people, it won't hurt. if he has a safe amount of emotional distance from them, then they can leave or die, and it won't ruin his life again.
it is lonely. he's lonely. but... it was better not to risk that.
for several long moments, rynlan stays silent.]
...you know how much longer my lifespan is than yours.
Mm. Significantly, if your theories about my heart bear out. But surely losing me wouldn't hurt that badly...? I'd assumed you would come to like Eitherys on its own merits, whether I was there or not.
[He opens one eye, frowning. That fucking blue and yellow drink. Gods, maybe bringing that with him was hasty and stupid, but. Well, here we are.]
If we parted ways at the end of this, and you went back to your own star. Would you forget about me, to make it easier on yourself?
[he admits that quietly, with a little shake of his head.]
I thought about-- just cutting things off. Telling you we shouldn't share a bed, or keep spending time like this, I've done... a terrible job of keeping much distance, honestly. But at this point I'm a little afraid I'm not going to be able to.
I've hardly made it easy on you. I've wanted companionship, too, and you've been willing. To say nothing of the fact that you're lovely but don't see it in yourself, and I know why that is and it's not that I think I can change your mind, but you're too hard on yourself about it sometimes.
[FUCKING BLUE AND YELLOW DRINK]
I would regret losing this if you sought to end it, but I would do it if it was what you wanted. I'd be jealous, mayhap, of the ones you chose to give your time to in my place, but I would understand why. 'Tis your right to keep your own life uncomplicated.
[it's part of what makes it difficult. he's just-- he's a good person. better than ryn is, at least. reminds him entirely too much of aren.
there's another period of silence before he exhales a frustrated breath and reaches for thancred's cup, taking it and draining what's left of his drink. fair is fair.]
[Oh. Oh, dear, now this has the makings of a bad situation. One of them with no filter is a refreshing exercise in candor. Both of them at it has the makings of...well, not disaster, necessarily, but certainly something.]
...I know you don't.
[He lets that hang between them, and it's a long interval before he speaks again, much more quietly.]
I wish you didn't have to be afraid. I wish I didn't frighten you so.
I did. I didn't know how to live-- he saved me more than once, I started off living for his sake, how was I supposed to just go on without him? Every time they said I was lucky to be alive I just wanted to scream. But-- he gave his life for mine.
[he couldn't give up so easily, couldn't do anything about it.]
I learned how to, eventually. Managed to carry on for other reasons. But I don't... it's the hardest thing I've ever had to do, living after that.
[And for one brief, shining moment, all thoughts and notions of insecurity appear to have fled, because he sits up and wraps his arms around Ryn, and guides him back down to lie in the sand with him, all but inviting him to sprawl on top of him.
He makes a very nice cushion, actually. Warm. Strong. Pressed close like that, the smooth steady beat of his heart is unmistakable.]
You don't have to live for him. You don't. Your life is not a debtor's gaol. Take it from a hypocrite who has spent his life trying desperately to redress balances I'll never repay — you'll miss the chance to be happy by not letting yourself. And then one day those things you loved from afar will be gone, and you'll regret not walking into that warmth and light when you had the chance.
Let him go, Ryn. You can let him go. You'll never forget him, but he wouldn't want to be the cage crushing welts into your heart. Let him rest, so you can rest too. And mayhap if you find you can do that...then mayhap someday I'll find the breath to sing that girl of mine her song, too.
Bixing said, if we could figure things out if we do manage to get out of here-- they've made advancements. Found ways to make sure people survive, to give them longer lifespans.
I've never thought about what I would do with a life as long as yours. I barely even thought I'd survive to see the end of the long road I was on before this. To see the star achieve peace.
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And before he can think better of it, he snatches up the to-go cup he'd brought with him and takes a deep, profound gulp.
Refreshing and sparkling, with a lemony zing.]
I wrote it for a girl. About a girl. You've seen her — she was in that memory of mine you witnessed in days past. It's not just that I miss her. It's that for some reason, for days upon days now, I can't get her off my mind. I know precisely the jests she would laugh at if she were here to hear them and the rejoinders she would offer in return and no one here comes close to comparing to it. She's a devil for impressions — does a picture-perfect one of me, for all that she looks and sounds nothing like me. And it's not as though I've never gone long lengths of time without her or even that I've any sort of claim to her outside of our friendship but for some reason I just can't...I can't stop...
[Three guess what he just drank. And what he's drinking more of, for good measure.]
I wrote it with her in mind because she would like that. She likes to keep things, to consider them hers. And I would frankly prefer to die again before she ever heard a note of it, and I said you wouldn't want it to be about you because I know you, and once you hear it you'll think so too. You'll be glad it's not.
[He says, even as he picks up the mandolin.]
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[there's a bit of an ache, maybe, sympathetic, at the way he speaks about her. in how he goes on about how no one here compares, how he deflects and says he has no claim outside friendship, and if rynlan would be glad it's not about him after all, then... it must be one.
he also knows very well what that particular drink must be-- he tested it earlier this week-- so he just sort of... takes this all in, quiet for a few more moments.]
You're sure that you wouldn't ever want her to hear it instead?
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[And yet he starts playing his tune anyway, and it's not so much a proper rendition of an actual song so much as it is he's picking through a melody, humming in places, supplying snippets of verses in others. A work in progress, all but for the one verse that seems to have inspired the whole thing:
Oh, I could say I need you / but then you'd realize that I want you / in ways I'm desperate to disguise behind "I love you"s / and all the rest of my lies / that all I wanted was to touch your face, your hands, and gaze into your eyes.
Thanks, insecurity week.
But when he's done, he sort of gives Ryn a look, as if seeking confirmation that yes, this really isn't the sort of song you want to be the subject of, now is it.]
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especially with that verse, the one that's clearly the most solid. it's-- thancred is right, he wouldn't want to be the subject of it because it would mean facing that, actually, he does. it's the exact kind of gesture he would be utterly charmed by, and if he's being honest, he's still charmed by it now. at the openness of this being shared, played just for him on a quiet beach even if it was made for someone else, and he's grateful thancred can't hear the way his heartbeat quickens.
he gives ryn that look, at the end, and rynlan finally opens his eyes to glance back at him, with a sympathetic smile.]
...I understand why you wouldn't want to play it for her, but- it is beautiful, you know.
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[His brain to mouth filter really is completely gone at this point, and self-inflicted while he's at it. He wiggles his toes where they're buried in the sand, letting the grains get between them.]
They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Hard to say whether all this yearning carries much weight to begin with, or if it's just a way of coping with being dead. Not just dead, either; dead and lonely and jealous. I wouldn't wish this place on anyone but sometimes watching Nav and Harrow, and Lu Bixing and his lover — what I wouldn't do for a familiar face, myself.
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It's good that they have each other the way they do, it really is, but I'd be lying if I said I weren't jealous of Lin and Bixing especially.
[to have someone like that even in death, to keep them close-- it stings, at times, when death separated him from his own other half and sent him somewhere he's certain aren would never be. if they had to be here at all... they're lucky for it.]
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[He sets the mandolin carefully aside at last, leaning back in the sand until he can feel the grains between strands of his hair, familiar-soft against the nape of his neck. If he pretends, he can almost imagine the stars in the Eorzean sky (Urianger's constellations, the Bole and Spear and all that, which he always pretended to never pay attention to and really did) overhead instead of just the artificial atmosphere.]
I offered you my star because I thought you were unhappy on yours. What you'd said about most of your friends really being more his than yours — I thought you were lonely, and how I could imagine a good dozen people you would get along with on Eitherys. 'Twas just because I don't like the thought of you being lonely. And because I know that's not something I can remedy on my own, other than to offer you that.
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[easier that way. if he just doesn't get close to people, it won't hurt. if he has a safe amount of emotional distance from them, then they can leave or die, and it won't ruin his life again.
it is lonely. he's lonely. but... it was better not to risk that.
for several long moments, rynlan stays silent.]
...you know how much longer my lifespan is than yours.
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[He opens one eye, frowning. That fucking blue and yellow drink. Gods, maybe bringing that with him was hasty and stupid, but. Well, here we are.]
If we parted ways at the end of this, and you went back to your own star. Would you forget about me, to make it easier on yourself?
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[he admits that quietly, with a little shake of his head.]
I thought about-- just cutting things off. Telling you we shouldn't share a bed, or keep spending time like this, I've done... a terrible job of keeping much distance, honestly. But at this point I'm a little afraid I'm not going to be able to.
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[FUCKING BLUE AND YELLOW DRINK]
I would regret losing this if you sought to end it, but I would do it if it was what you wanted. I'd be jealous, mayhap, of the ones you chose to give your time to in my place, but I would understand why. 'Tis your right to keep your own life uncomplicated.
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[it's part of what makes it difficult. he's just-- he's a good person. better than ryn is, at least. reminds him entirely too much of aren.
there's another period of silence before he exhales a frustrated breath and reaches for thancred's cup, taking it and draining what's left of his drink. fair is fair.]
I don't want to.
[this isn't something he wants to just-- end.]
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[Oh. Oh, dear, now this has the makings of a bad situation. One of them with no filter is a refreshing exercise in candor. Both of them at it has the makings of...well, not disaster, necessarily, but certainly something.]
...I know you don't.
[He lets that hang between them, and it's a long interval before he speaks again, much more quietly.]
I wish you didn't have to be afraid. I wish I didn't frighten you so.
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[he pauses for a slow, calming breath, shakes his head.]
But there's an early enough end to it no matter what. That's what does.
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[.........]
...What if it did. End, exactly as you're afeared it would. Is it that you think you couldn't bear it again...? You did once.
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[he murmurs, shaking his head again.]
I did. I didn't know how to live-- he saved me more than once, I started off living for his sake, how was I supposed to just go on without him? Every time they said I was lucky to be alive I just wanted to scream. But-- he gave his life for mine.
[he couldn't give up so easily, couldn't do anything about it.]
I learned how to, eventually. Managed to carry on for other reasons. But I don't... it's the hardest thing I've ever had to do, living after that.
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[And for one brief, shining moment, all thoughts and notions of insecurity appear to have fled, because he sits up and wraps his arms around Ryn, and guides him back down to lie in the sand with him, all but inviting him to sprawl on top of him.
He makes a very nice cushion, actually. Warm. Strong. Pressed close like that, the smooth steady beat of his heart is unmistakable.]
You don't have to live for him. You don't. Your life is not a debtor's gaol. Take it from a hypocrite who has spent his life trying desperately to redress balances I'll never repay — you'll miss the chance to be happy by not letting yourself. And then one day those things you loved from afar will be gone, and you'll regret not walking into that warmth and light when you had the chance.
Let him go, Ryn. You can let him go. You'll never forget him, but he wouldn't want to be the cage crushing welts into your heart. Let him rest, so you can rest too. And mayhap if you find you can do that...then mayhap someday I'll find the breath to sing that girl of mine her song, too.
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[to hurt like that again.
but he lets himself be pulled, and those words are mumbled against thancred's chest.]
If we keep this up you're going to become too difficult to lose.
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[And he lets them stay that way awhile, just holding him, before finally the blue and yellow drink rears its ugly head one last time.]
I could take a cue from Nav and sing horrible bawdy sea shanties at you until you're more than happy to be rid of me.
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[a hint of amusement there, at least.
and, eventually:]
Bixing said, if we could figure things out if we do manage to get out of here-- they've made advancements. Found ways to make sure people survive, to give them longer lifespans.
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[...]
Suggesting we both run off to his galaxy, are you?
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[a little more hesitant. maybe thancred wouldn't even want that.]
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[He considers a long minute.]
...I don't suppose you've any suggestions?
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For what to do with it-? ...I don't know, honestly, did you have anything you just never had time to do?
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[He smiles faintly, but it's no less genuine for how slight it is.]
I'd like to live long enough to see one of my comrades have a child of their own, and play favorite uncle to the little hellion.
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