Daybreak | IC Inbox.

[awooligan]

CLIFFORD NORMAN
UN: REDRIDINGHOODIE

STATUS: grade 11

ACCOLADES: n/a.

BIO: name's cliff. let me know if you'll buy cigarettes and shit for me, we can work something out.

© TESSISAMESS

Comments

[awooligan]

[Even if it's an answer to his half-hearted prayers, actually having the phone handed to him makes him jump a little -- which in turn makes him feel like his brain is moving around like a bumper car on the inside of his skull and makes his face scrunch up again. Aaand there's the throb in his nose again. Ugh, everything was like a Rube Goldberg machine of pain.

He takes care of the alarm first and tries not to acknowledge the vague, buzzing annoyance he feels over someone else touching his phone. That's stupid, Cliff. She's helping, Cliff. Now it's finally fucking quiet, Cliff.]

...Thanks. [With his raspy, destroyed throat, it almost sounds like a growl. Of course it did. Fucking shitfuck.] Shouldn't you be asleep?

[Nope. Try again.]

Uh. [He tries to swallow, but his mouth is way too dry for that.] Did I wake you up?

[kept_his_letters]

[Shouldn't she be asleep? Probably. Almost definitely.]

You didn't wake me. I've just got things on my mind.

[Her voice is kept in that careful balance of being light but not too cheery.]

I was going to make a drink. Did you want something? Coffee? Tea? I'd make atole but I don't have the right stuff.

[awooligan]

[She's being careful around him. He's something that she has to be careful around. It feels worse than the headache and vague nausea inside him, and he pretends like he's checking his email and such so he doesn't have to face her and maybe see the caution of someone facing down a rabid dog. A monster.]

I don't like coffee. [Tea is...good. Using his idea of "tea", anyway, a nice southern sweet tea. Right now he can't fathom any other kind so he gives a weak shrug and buries his face in a hand.] Tea's okay. There any fuckin'...advil, or something?

[kept_his_letters]

[She bobs her head. No coffee. She almost thinks that's a dismissal in and of itself, but he relents for tea and a request. Right. She almost forgot.

She moves to her bags, still living out of them all this time. She doesn't have to dig. She's got some right on top that she brings over.]

I told the infirmary I needed them. I thought you could use it.

[awooligan]

[He should be grateful, or maybe sheepish, but the look he gives her is almost offended as he reaches for what's offered. Still, he takes the little bottle and sits up more, moving his gaze out the window. Normally he might have been able to take pills without a drink, but his mouth is so ridiculously dry from last night's mistakes that he isn't going to bother trying. Just...going to wait for the tea. Sulk about everything, of course, but wait.]

[kept_his_letters]

[Perhaps she crossed a line. Perhaps she should have handed them over while keeping her mouth shut. Perhaps there's nothing she could have done and the scorn was inevitable. She heads out of the room before he can try to get a read on her face.

Tea. She's going to make tea. He'll need to wait a fair bit of time for it to heat up and then properly brew, but at least she doesn't skimp on the sugar. The problem with waiting was that it was too easy to get lost in thought.

She thought things were okay. She know she fumbled the conversation about cigarettes but she hadn't commented on his drinking. She knew what teenagers did, she wasn't a fool, even if Mamá had banned her from music and, effectively, anything actually worth worrying about in the process. Still, she hadn't tried to act like it was a big deal. Maybe it wasn't even about the drinking. How does she know there isn't something going on? Maybe it's personal. Maybe it was her. If she did something, she doesn't what she did. If it was something he heard... well, actually, that was possible.

She comes back. She brings a mug to him and sets it on the nearest sidetable, too sure that it'll be snatched or knocked from her hand otherwise. She goes to the bed she's taken up for the night and settles on it, drawing her knees close and her attention down into her cup.

How does she approach this without causing a blow up? Looking back at all efforts in the past, when Mamá was set in her anger, she knows the answer: she can't. She builds sheilds within herself and hopes they hold.]

I can go, if you'd like. If it's me.

[awooligan]

[He realizes the problem with his plan when he reaches for the mug and finds it to be warm, which normally he could have accepted with ease but now makes him frown. How's he supposed to take the pills without burning his throat... Ughhh, this morning is such a fucking trainwreck,. It just gets worse when Coco speaks again and he jerks his head over to look at her like she's grown a second, much less pretty head. What the fuck? He sets the mug and the pills down where Coco had initially put them, leaning forward and sounding snappish again.]

It's not about you!

[Wait. Fuck. That came out way too aggressive, which only makes him groan loudly at himself and drop his face into his hands. She doesn't deserve this, and she doesn't really deserve having to sit through his regret either, but he still doesn't want her to leave. He does want for his voice to stop coming out like a snarl of warning every time he opens his stupid mouth.]

Just...fuck! It isn't you... Sorry. You're not the one screwing shit up, I am. [As usual. He's even screwing up this apology!!!]

[kept_his_letters]

[She tries to pretend she doesn't see that look of disgust. She doesn't succeed in hiding the flinch.

She has half a mind to leave anyway, hurry out and maybe hole up in the common room. It's the end that makes her pause.]

Is something going on...?

[awooligan]

[He's ruining this. He was so damn lucky to find a friend -- a friend like her -- and now he's throwing it all away. Worse, he's hurting her, or scaring her, or both. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Cliff squeezes his eyes shut and runs one of his hands through his hair. Maybe it'll be soothing to his goddamn dog brain.]

...Yeah.

[No sense in saying otherwise, even if he doesn't want to get into it. The closest he'd gotten was telling her there was something wrong with him, and she'd shot that down without giving it a second thought. He wonders if she'd agree now, with him acting like this. He's not awake or optimistic enough to even mention a "it's not you, it's me" joke. He picks up the mug again, giving himself something to do on top of making talking a little more tolerable.]

But that doesn't matter -- it doesn't make it okay to talk to you like this. I know that, okay?

[He also doesn't like what he's doing!!!! He hates it, actually. It makes him feel like his stepdad's had more of an influence on him than he'd like, and he covers his mouth with a grimace as a roll of nausea follows that thought.]

[kept_his_letters]

I suppose.

[She doesn't know what else to say. Except--]

But... it kind of matters. Is there anyone helping you? It's no good if you're doing this all on your own.

[awooligan]

[He pauses, then, because it makes him feel even worse that she's even thinking about that still. He wants to tell her that it isn't her problem, but thankfully the split second between that thought and swallowing his tea he realizes that it would probably come out sounding more like "it's none of your business". This tea could also use more sugar, hm. He narrows his eyes at it instead.]

I'm -- [He isn't fine.] I'll be fine. I'm handling it, I just...had a bit too much to drink last night, I guess. [He'll have to both start and stop earlier, to avoid this happening again.]

[kept_his_letters]

Cliff...

[He's apologized. She knows it's... probably not her. But she can't help remain uneasy with all of this. She hugs her own cup of tea close.]

I don't want to sound like those... really stiff people who say you can't have fun and stuff. But... I don't think it's just that you drank too much last night.

[He's been drinking a lot in general. That worries her.]

You're not back home. You're here now. That's kind of what this place is about. So, whatever's going on, there's got to be someone who's dealing with it. If it is that kind of thing. And if it's a normal bad problem, then there's definitely someone dealing with it. You don't have to deal with things alone. It doesn't have to be so hard.

[awooligan]

[He's quiet, pinning down the urge to defend himself, run away, or (for the love of god??) start crying. Because this morning needed to get even worse! Obviously!! Fuck classes, honestly, just let him crawl in a hole and die.]

No one can fix what's wrong with me, Coco. Not back in Podunk and not here, and if it's not going to do anything, I really don't want to tell people.

[kept_his_letters]

I didn't say fixing. I said making things easier.

[There was a big difference. And it did matter.]

How do you even know it's something wrong?

[awooligan]

[Is it really worth trying to make it easier to deal with, when he still has to go through it? That's what the problem is. That's always been what his unfixable problems are. The fewer people that had to know, the less it would be a big deal.

Her question would have made him scoff out a laugh, but it triggers a brief cough fix instead and he has to press against his temple again to stop the throbbing buzz he gets as a special bonus.]

Because of the way you looked at me? Or how you would look at me, if you weren't so good at hiding it?

[kept_his_letters]

[The way she looked? For a moment she wants to laugh, though it's not funny at all.]

I'm worried, Cliff. I'm worried for you. About you. And everything you say makes me more worried because you're keeping whatever it is going and I can't do anything about it.

Even if I couldn't help at all, not knowing makes it worse. At least if I knew-- or knew someone else was helping-- then I wouldn't be wondering.

Besides, a moment ago I thought maybe it was me you were afraid of.

[awooligan]

[The mug trembles a little in his hand, so even with how hot it still is, he hurries to down the advil and set it aside again. His legs come up so he can rest his cheek on his knee and stare off to the side at nothing.]

I'm being such an asshole. You should be pissed, or going back to Tobias's because you can't stand me anymore. I don't know why you'd ever want to be my friend, after this.

[So what if she was what he was afraid of, now? He can't say as much directly, or he'd lose the last shred of dignity he had this morning and he really couldn't stand that, but fuck, man. He doesn't want to lose her, as much as he deserves it.]

[kept_his_letters]

[That time, she does laugh, quiet and joyless.]

I'm not very good at only feeling the things I'm supposed to. I thought you knew that.

[awooligan]

[He doesn't like this laugh nearly as much as the others he's gotten to hear from her. He's the worst.]

I don't know why you're so nice to me. I keep screwing up, and we barely know each other.

[But she was, for some reason.]

I'll... [Curled up as tightly in on himself as he is, he can't really take that deep a breath to calm his wired nerves. His whole being is screaming at him to stop, and even if it's silent screaming, it's much too loud for him to deal with right now.] I'll, uh. Try. To maybe talk to someone.

[kept_his_letters]

[She shrugs.]

You know a lot about me. You've done a lot. You've been kind. And I know just because someone's angry, it doesn't mean they're bad. There's usually a reason.

I hope it works out. I really do.

[awooligan]

[Cliff shudders a little, praying for his shit to calm the fuck down, but this was all -- a lot. He doesn't really know how to handle it. What else is new?]

Fuck. I'm gonna skip today, I think. My head is killing me. [It's not at all because he's worried that his emotions ramping up over the course of the day means that in addition to snapping at people, he's going to randomly burst into tears, which would be mortifying. At least if he stayed here, he could go out for a run whenever he needed to.]

[kept_his_letters]

[She smiles faintly.]

Probably a good idea. And you need water.

[awooligan]

[Good god, he needs water.]

Sorry.

[It...just felt like he had to apologize. For needing water. For the implication that she was going to be the one getting it, because she was too good to be around someone like him, and he was stupidly useless from getting stupid drunk last night. Well, too bad, he's not gonna let her, because he needs to get up anyway.]

Uh. This needs more sugar. [Vicious sweet tooth. Besides, he can get his own water then, and not burden her with that on top of all her worry. He pushes himself unsteadily to his feet, cursing under his breath at the new wave of pain hitting him, then picks up his mug while swiping his hand across his eyes just in case. The stinging in them could have been anything. Also holy fuck does he need to pee. Stupid drinking!!!

He pauses when he reaches the door, much to his bladder's dismay. Calm the fuck down, bladder, there was a bathroom off the common area, he's going...] Um. Do you, uh. What's the plan on your end?

[He doesn't want to be alone, but he also doesn't want to hurt her feelings again.]

[kept_his_letters]

[She doesn't know what exactly the apology is for. Her answer is the same either way.]

It's alright, Cliff.

[She settles in with her tea but pauses drinking ot to answer him.]

The same as every day. Though probably a nap at some point so Mamá doesn't ask why I look tired and get suspicious. So, really, no plans.

[awooligan]

[He gives a small nod, though even just that much kind of hurts and adds to his frustration, and continues out to take care of his short list of dumb immediate tasks. Cliff returns in a few minutes with his mug of tea sweetened to an unhealthy degree in one hand and a glass of water in the other. No sense of urgency, his mood has gone back to a slouchy, agitated teen. Don't like that. Trying to pacify it, he crawls back into bed and focuses on quietly nursing his tea. Once it's done, he realizes that maybe when his brain was being so overstimulated by everything already, dumping a bunch of sugar into his system maybe wasn't actually the greatest of ideas? Oops, too late now.]

I would fight a man for some bacon. [Comfort food. He's not sure how much he means what he says, but he knows it's more than he's comfortable with. There's a touch of impatience in his voice getting more obvious by the minute, now that he's sounding less like a thirsty, groggy mess of a man. He still feels shitty with every movement, but he's determined to do things for himself so as to bother a Coco as little as possible.] Do you want anything? Unless you...want... [To come with? Avoid being around him? Which sounds less like he's trying to coerce her into something, like some manipulative dick.] Look, I don't want to make you feel like you have to do anything because I'm being stupid as hell, so just say whatever's on your mind, got it?