ninetoes | Noctium Inbox

[Izzy melts into him so easily, and Stede feels triumph surge in his veins in equal measure to the jealousy he'd felt rear its ugly head two nights ago. His right hand remains in place, holding Izzy's cheek, while the left finds itself firmly planted at the small of his back, pulling him in close. He feels Izzy's lips part and takes the invitation without a second thought, licking into his mouth to taste him.

It strikes him how much he's missed this, missed the give and take of their conversations, the tension ratcheting higher and higher until something inevitably snaps and they're right back here, all over each other. He loves it. He often finds himself wondering what might have happened if he had thought to press a little harder during their first, ill-fated meeting. If he'd pressed that knife a little harder into Izzy's cheek, marched him off into the jungle and...

Stede pulls back, lungs burning, gasping for air like a drowning man. He doesn't stay away for long, though, moving to press soft, slow kisses to Izzy's cheek, lingering over the tattoo below his eye, and then to the wrinkle of his forehead, and the edge of his hairline.]

Thank you, [he murmurs, low and warm and happy,] for coming back.

[Were Izzy alone, that day in the jungle, he might have considered it. A rough, chance meeting. A display of power, no one else there to perform in front of...yeah. He could have gotten behind that idea. Under. Over. Doesn't matter.

It wouldn't have been anything like this, suffering soft kisses across his face. Places no one has ever thought to kiss him. Too tender. Too intimate. This is why Stede is so very, very dangerous.

Still, he tips his head just slightly to allow the man whatever access he could desire, finally placing his hands on Stede's hips.]

You say that now.

[This is their moment, just for Stede and he, but it can only last so long.]

Is he furious?

Mmm. I'll say it again later, too.

[Stede hums against Izzy's hair as he speaks, almost a laugh, and pulls him in a little tighter, encouraged by the hands that settle on his hips. He's so happy he could burst; nothing could spoil his mood right now.

He makes a noncommittal sort of noise, bobbing his head left to right.]

Hard to say. [Mostly, Ed has just seemed sad, but it's hard to tell how he'll react to seeing Izzy in the flesh again after so long. Stede sighs, smiling faintly down at him, thumb stroking over his jaw to feel the stubble creeping in there.] You ought to go and find him sooner rather than later...loath as I am to let you go at the moment.

[Three things.

Firstly, it's been like three days.

Secondly, loathe as you are- that is so aggressively romantic, what the hell is he supposed to do with that except melt? Except toss out all the anger he's been gathering and sharpening in preparation for a fight that hasn't come.

Thirdly, and this is the bit that stops Izzy and really gives him pause. Makes him lean back for eye to eye.]

Alone?

[Three agonizing days spent peering through a spyglass. Sue him.

Stede pauses, blinking a few times; of all the things Izzy could have said in response, that wasn't one he expected. A single word, a question, and all the implied vulnerability behind it. Stede fumbles, uncertain.]

I didn't think—well, I rather thought— [Deep breath.] You want me there?

[His turn to be vulnerable.]

[Logically, Izzy tells himself, Edward is far less likely to kill him in Stede's presence.

Rightfully, he is scared.

Foolishly, he doesn't want to go alone, and even worse is the terrible concept of having to pull himself away from Stede's safety.

And that...that is a thought that he has just had to fully realize. Fuck.

Izzy immediately reconsiders his plea and wonders if he misspoke out of fear, but finds himself at the same conclusion. He wants Stede near, if not next to him, if Edward insists on privacy, then at least near by.]

I think I do, yeah.

[Stede's hand finally moves from Izzy's jaw, sliding back to card through the hair at the nape of his neck. Holding him close, still, but he doesn't want to obscure any of the expression on Izzy's face, limned in golden moonlight.

Izzy wants him to come. Wants him there. The three of them. It makes his heart pound a little faster, both with happiness and a touch of nerves.]

I couldn't possibly say no to that, [he murmurs, low and fond.] We'll go when you're ready.

[Ready, huh. If they wait for that then they may never go.
Hesitation is plain on Izzy's face as he lingers, wondering if he could
just sink back in. Have another kiss. Bask against Stede's chest for a
moment and pretend nothing hurts and everything is okay.

A beat. He closes his eyes and takes a breath.

When he opens them again, he's forced himself to shift gears and tug all
his armor back on. It isn't time to go to work, but it's a similar mindset.
Time to go to war, perhaps. He's so tired of going to war with Edward.

This is all so...muddy, and Izzy hates it. He wants clear directions and
not to ask questions. He wants pathways and plans, not...emotions and
second guessing. He had felt powerful walking out the way he had. Like he
was doing something for himself... but at what cost? Was it really freedom?
Or just another blade between the ribs. He's scared. That's the truth of
it. Scared to lose anything, scared to gain. Scared of what change
brings...always has been.

Izzy pulls himself back and nods.]

I'm ready.

Edited 2022-11-10 00:16 (UTC)

[Stede just watches, fascinated, as Izzy closes his eyes and seems to steel himself. He can see the pieces fitting back together, the same ones he'd just wrenched apart. It breaks his heart, a little bit, watching his expression shift, but when Izzy opens his eyes again, Stede just smiles.]

Good. Come on, then, I think I heard him tinkering with the piano in the lounge.

[At his side, his hand opens, offered to Izzy whether he'll take it or not. He's going to do this properly, damn it.]

[You have no idea how badly he wants to take that hand. He does, he really, really fucking does. And he even reaches for it for a moment before something in the back of his head needles a joke about walking down an aisle like a pussy. Ruins everything.

Izzy stops his stupid hand, growls, and pointedly forges ahead with a mutter.]

[Stede watches from the corner of his eye as that hand reaches out, hesitates, and then withdraws as Izzy marches ahead. It stings, a little, but mostly because Izzy clearly wanted to do it and something's holding him back.

It's alright. It's enough, for now. He follows Izzy up to the lounge, barely able to keep his brain from racing ahead. They've got to take this one breath at a time. When they reach the door, Stede holds up a hand to Izzy and goes ahead, leaning against the doorway to peer inside.]

Edward? I've brought someone to see you, my love!

[Impossible to keep the excitement from his voice. He steps into the room as he says it, leaving room for Izzy to come forward unobscured.]

Laying on the sofa within the sky lounge, Edward is rehearsing the incoming conversation in his head. Stede had prepared him to the best of his ability, but they'd both agreed that nothing would be meaningful to Izzy unless it came from Edward himself, and he couldn't screw this up. He knows Izzy is on board, he hadn't been far from Stede when he overheard him freaking out. He had half a mind to join him on deck and wait, but cowardice took hold of him and he'd retreated to the higher floors, too terrified he might ruin it all again.

So far, he hasn't handled this extremely well. The evening was filled with anxious pacing and tickling random piano keys, Edward eventually collapsing on the sofa to smoke and calm himself down. It only half-worked, he was still running scenarios, leg jostling off the end of the sofa nervously to expell excess energy. When the door clicks open across the room, Edward sits bolt upright, eyes wide with emotion as he watches the two of them enter the room. His eyes lock to Stede for a moment, desperate, as if trying to read on him that everything is going to be okay (which he hopes it will be, considering Izzy’sintroduction), then shift to his first mate, gauging his mood.

Ed turns, his feet sliding off of the sofa and onto the floor, but he doesn't stand just yet.

"Iz..." he breathes, his voice soft. He frankly looks fucking horrible; dressed in loose slacks and a dark robe that he snatched from Izzy’s room below deck because it smelled like him. He looks like he either hasn't slept in days or has only just come out of hibernation. There had been a moment when he'd tried to make himself look presentable, not wanting to show vulnerability, but in the end anxiety took over and he'd never managed it, becoming distracted and pacing instead.

Edited 2022-11-10 01:50 (UTC)

Izzy notes the robe immediately, alongside Edward's state of disarray, and wonders just how curated it is. He's seen Ed a mess over Stede, but over him? It feels like a hollow joke. Another fuckery in a long line of Edward's finest that Izzy has fallen for without question year after year.

Blackbeard, of course, being the greatest of them all.

Izzy glances briefly at Stede before looking back to Edward, his back like a ramrod and hackles on high alert.

He's here. Not because he particularly wants to be. He is angry, wounded, and hurting in ways he can't even begin to put to word, not to mention confused and tentatively hopeful.

"Edward."

It's formal. There's a read on his mood. Like he's ready to listen for orders or take a berating, a humiliation, and fuck off again. Like he's expecting his entire interaction with Stede right now to have been a honeypot trap. Izzy doesn't summon any magic in warning, but the pads of his fingertips are hot as he prepares for any and all sudden changes in circumstance. No trust.

Stede watches as they exchange one-word greetings, his heart breaking over the longing in Ed's voice, the guarded nature of Izzy's reply. He gives the latter an encouraging nod and a smile, and then turns to Ed as his hand comes to rest, warm and firm, between Izzy's shoulder blades.

"Izzy, Edward has some things he'd like to say to you, if you're willing to listen." He looks at Ed as he says it, giving him an equally encouraging look, trying to convey his support. Just like they'd talked about, and he'll be right here in case things go sideways. For both of them.

He has nothing to lose. He already feels he's lost Izzy and all he can do is follow Stede's suggestions. If he gave it his all and Izzy doesn't buy it? Or worse, if he's utterly fucking repulsed... well, Stede can't be mad at him. Deep breaths, here does nothing.

"You were right, Iz..." he murmurs, hands nervously picking at themselves. They flex, clench into tight balls for a moment, then release flat on his thighs, which he uses as momentum to push himself to stand. God, this feels so fucking pathetic. "I haven't been-- hm. I fucked up. I wanted us all to sail together, but I couldn't admit that the hull was cracked and needed repair."

Hubris. He sees that now, he supposes. It's a stupid and frankly overused metaphor, but it's one they both understand. Edward pushes forward until he's standing a few steps away from Izzy, careful. "So let's fucking fix it, man. Please?"

Edward is, amongst many things, a marvellous actor. He really is, but this right here… it’s difficult see what might be true and what might not. Where that line has been drawn. Where Stede may have assisted.

Edward’s lied to him before, is the thing. Kind of the beginning of everything going down hill in the Stede department. Unshared plans. Misdirection. Promises.

It would be nice if promises could mean something again. Wouldn’t that just be so fucking lovely.

Izzy watches Ed approach with the same sort of wariness one watches a dog known to bite.

He listens, lips pressed thin, expression pained. He wants to be mean about it. Wants to be fucking hideous and lash out snarling and spitting venom, but he doesn’t. Izzy can still feel the crunch of flesh between his teeth.

He knows better.

A swallow.

He doesn’t want to go through that again. Isn’t sure he can bear to, not without significant gain, and circumstances have changed…considerably.

“How?” Finally. It’s not a no but it’s not a yes. Because he used to believe in repairing hulls. A series of intricate patchworks until the vessel was more that than ship, but they’ve kept afloat past their prime. That’s something to be proud of. Still looks pretty shit in the face of a shiny new ship more than a decade younger. A ship that, for whatever deranged reason, claims interest in a fleet.

So fix this, fix all this…it feels impossible. Feels insane. He can’t see the way home anymore.

How, indeed. Edward looks to Stede for help, stuttering for a moment as he tries to find the right words.

This is so fucking difficult. It's difficult enough to be vulnerable, to be aware of Izzy’s emotions as well as his own. To acknowledge them and massage them enough to make things right. On top of all of this he needs to be blunt. He needs to give Izzy an order or he knows the man won't take him seriously. He must delicately balance vulnerability and control. Be sensitive but not too sensitive. Stede's tactics will only get him so far.

"Stede thinks we should talk it through..." he mutters quietly, but he sounds so unsure. How do you unpack years of this? Especially when one of the last things Izzy had said to him was that his word means nothing. Izzy feels lied to. Edward can't change that. He supposes he lied, even though he thought he was telling the truth at the time. All of them.

He knows his first mate is a scared dog, ready to bite. He knows he needs to be cautious, and so his hand is always within sight. Edward shakes his head, raising it between them, a sort of wait signal. "Hold on-- let me... I have more to say."

Hand open and warm, he moves forward again, until it's pressed right over Izzy’s cheek. His thumb rests right over Ed's own branding on Izzy’s cheekbone, where it rubs gently, drawing attention to it.

"You're mine, Iz. And I've done some fucked up shit to keep you all to myself. But let's not pretend you haven't done some fucked up shit to keep me to yourself, either."

Ed's voice is more confident in that, because it's fact, not feeling. And he shouldn't have to explain himself for Izzy to know what he's referring to- for any of them to, but he knows he won't need to. They can talk it through is Izzy agrees to it, but until he bends, Ed needs to hit him with everything he's got. He doesn't take a breath.

"But beyond all that fucking each other over, we still found commonality. I know it's fucking in you. One more shot, for old time's sake. I mean it Iz, I know you're tired... but let's make this world ours, for real. All three of us."

Edward's right. He's exhausted. He is exhausted and the breakdown here, between the two of them, it really felt like the end.

Some part of Izzy- the part that leans into the other's touch, eyes fluttering for a moment, body wavering for a moment, resolve weakening- that part knew he didn't want it to end. If he did, he wouldn't have come for his few, shitty possessions. He wouldn't still wear Edward's ring at his throat. He wouldn't have texted Stede back, at all.

This part of him is stronger, today, than the bitter, hissing fear living in his chest. The part that says Edward can have this, Stede can have this, but he can't. The part that would gladly, willingly, carve out Edward's chest if it meant they stayed together. He would cut himself to pieces, he would lose another toe, he would lose all of them. It is pathetic. It is dreadful and embarrassing and weak.

The offer to make something here, his own words given back to him, it's painful to hear. He made that proposal in a place of hope. Altered state, but he was still himself to an extent. He'd meant what he'd said. But Edward doesn't like that period of their shared history, Izzy barely trusts that period of their shared history, and talking about it without talking about it feels taboo and dangerous. Like he'd done with Stede, acknowledging it happened makes it's real.

He isn't sure if he's supposed to do that or not.

Izzy gives a soft noise, something near to a whine if he didn't bite it back to hard. If the offer didn't core him out so thoroughly. If he didn't want it so desperately. All these words, they're beautiful. He wants to hear them, they're perfect. But in his experience hearing everything he wants to means there's a lie looming behind.

"How can I trust you, Edward?"

Not boss, not Blackbeard, Edward. Because that's who he is, now. who he always was, underneath it all. Izzy had lost sight of him after so many years. Didn't think to ask where he'd gone, because those years were good. Thrilling. Exciting. Purposeful. He'd never even thought to examine his beliefs and get rid of the ones sabotaging his life. Never thought to consider Edward and Blackbeard as separate. He's only ever just been Izzy. Is there duality in him as well? Izzy the companion, Izzy the first mate, Izzy...something else? Someone else? Who is that without the preceding?

"Who do you want me to be?"

How can Ed be trusted? He and Stede didn't really cover this part, and Ed doesn't know the answer. Maybe he can't be. Maybe Izzy should have never trusted him to begin with. Edward certainly doesn't know if Izzy can be trusted either, at this point, given the backstabbing and hiding he's been doing.

Ed shrugs, his hand falling from Izzy’s cheek to his shoulder, resting there. He's silent for a long time as he thinks. "I can't make you trust me, Iz." he mutters shallowly, "All I can tell you is that I'm tired too. We don't have the military chasing us anymore, we aren't on the verge of dying, and we don't have a fucking crew to take our shit out on... so we have no need for the bullshit anymore. I have the opportunity to live authentically for the first time in my fucking life. But I don't know if you'll be happy with that version of me..."

Ed frowns, his hand dropping from Izzy. He fidgets mindlessly with the end of his robe, instead, looking back at Stede, helpless. "I want you... we want you to be here with us. As we are with each other. I've been trying to tell you this whole time, Iz... my promises to you aren't negated by my promises to Stede."

Spanish Jackie has like... a dozen husbands. Why can't Ed have two?

Stede bears witness to all of this in silence, every now and again giving each of them an encouraging smile, though his expression grows noticeably more taut as the conversation grows fraught with hurt and history. There's so much he wants to do or say, so many reassurances he wants to offer them both, but he and Edward had agreed it ought to come mainly from him. And he's so proud of Ed, for being vulnerable toward Izzy despite his fears about it. For overcoming past wrongdoings and being honest about his feelings.

This time, when Ed looks toward him, he breaks into a soft, hopeful smile despite himself. "We want that very much," he reassures Izzy, his hand practically itching to offer itself out to him again, but he refrains. "I know it must seem...idealistic, to you, what we're offering. But I think it could make us all happy. The two of you will have to learn to trust each other again, of course. It won't be easy." But nothing worth fighting for is easy.

He moves to stand between them, Ed on one side of him, Izzy on the other, and lets one hand rest on Ed's lower back, bolstering him. Remind him that he's not alone in all this. "And if we try it, and it turns out we all hate it, well...we can unmake the choice as easily as we made it." He does open his hand now, offering it palm up to Izzy, fully anticipating another rejection but eternally hopefully despite it. "But...you've got to make the choice, first."

Nothing worth fighting for, huh. As if he hasn’t been fighting for This man for twenty years.

But there’s a difference between fighting for Blackbeard and fighting for Edward, isn’t there. Who fucking knew. Here’s Izzy the dickhead thought he was doing both. Maybe wasn’t doing either. What the fuck has he been doing?

Izzy looks at Stede sharply, like he has any fucking right to say anything right now, then at the outstretched hand and remembers the burn of warmth against his face out on the deck not ten minutes ago. It takes the ugly urge to snarl and spit in Stede’s upturned palm and sets it quietly on the back fire. Always an option. Not currently required.

He can’t bring himself to look back at Ed for a moment. His words are still rolling around in Izzy’s brain, picking up shrapnel and barbs as they go.

“Living authentically,” he muses aloud and tongues his teeth, eyes on the middle distance somewhere near Ed’s shoulder. He misses the weight of both these men’s hands on him and feels guilty for even thinking it.

Living authentically. Like everything they’ve done before was a lie. Maybe it was to Ed, what the fuck does Izzy know. Nothing, apparently. It appears they’re strangers. What a fucking twist.

Finally, his eyes snap back to Ed’s. They flick quickly to Stede but it could be in warning, and look back again.

“It must be so nice to set down your very heavy burden at long, miserable last.”

Sounds stressful, Edward.

Oh there’s that bitter taste on the back of his tongue, again. There’s his feet moving to gap the small distance between them.

“What fucking choice have you ever given me? You force my hand, you lose your mind when I do something for myself, the one fucking time, have I not given you everything I am? Haven’t I!? It’s never enough- I will never be enough!”

Voice raised, with enough power that he can see Ed’s hair moving. Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care. His knees are threatening to buckle, his eyes are burning, so fucking lost that it’s now past funny and looped back round to devastating.

“If you want to be authentic then here I am, everything you’ve made me. Everything I have twisted myself into to please you!”

It’s then Izzy forces himself to take a breath and step back. He’s about to lose it. His grip is nearly lost, he can feel it, red with rage, hands shaking even balled into fists, the way his throat constricts his words into tight, ragged, high.

Has it all been a lie? What new promises, the ones they can’t talk about because That Time doesn’t count? Because That Time is what’s turned Ed against him so brutally? He doesn’t understand. He keeps asking why and nothing makes sense. This isn’t about him or them, this is about Ed being scared of hearing the truth.

“You don’t want me, you just don’t want to lose your dog.”

Edward feels his heart sink through his chest as his words are turned against him. He'd practiced so many times... and in the end he was predisposed to fail, because Izzy would always find a way to hear them wrong and cause them both more hurt. Just like he warned Stede. I told you so wouldn't even be satisfying to say... He'd much rather go nap inside the hot tub again.

There's a moment when Izzy steps close, where Ed feels his chest puff out and his nostrils flare and he thinks he might hit him. Izzy’s argumentative questions make him want to peel his own skin off of his face. He's so fucking tired. When will he ever stop being so fucking tired. He thinks he might cry again. Or worse, punch Izzy in the face. Again.

"For fucks sake, Izzy... do you think you're the only one twisting yourself for another's approval? It's always you, isn't it, Iz? You're never enough. Your hand's been forced. You weren't given a choice. Do you hear yourself man? Open your fucking eyes... you've been forcing me for years to embrace the legends or die. I could only ever be one thing and that thing involved the same fucking plan over and over again with no end in sight. I do something for myself and-- you want to talk about losing my mind??-- you called the fucking English Navy! And you tell me that you wish they'd killed me because I wasn't acting to your liking. So that I would 'twist' myself for fit your expectations of what I should be."

Ed's practically out of breath by the time he finishes unloading all of that. His eyes are wet and his breathing is heavy, and he still looks like he wants to strangle all the air out of Izzy’s throat.

"But I kept doing it because it was all I knew. And that's not the case anymore." He continues after a beat, his voice softer this time, but it still has bite. "It was never about you, Iz: My desire to stop. You never considered stopping with me, did you? I don't fucking need a dog, I need my matelot. I need... I want you. So you have a choice now: abandon us both and throw the last twenty years away- the good and bad, or stay with two people who love you and figure out how make it right."

The urge to snarl and point out that this, right here, Ed ignoring his being upset to highlight his own reasons for being upset, is a huge reason that he is, in fact, upset. And then, before Izzy can put the words together, he's given an ultimatum and slapped in the face with words far too powerful to bandy around.

They mean too much. they have not been applied to him in recent memory- maybe ever. Not like this. Not counting, of course, That Time they can't speak about.

The wind in his sails doesn't drop, but the sails themselves shred to tatters with a squeal of ripping fabric.

For a moment, Izzy is speechless, paralyzed, aghast. For a moment, he looks so scandalized he might set alight. And indeed, there are flames licking in between his knuckles, burning through manna constructed with everyone but Edward.

It's hard, to want to be wanted, and then told you're wanted, but still be so hurt. To not want to throw everything away, but giving in feels like settling his own needs. That's the choice, is it. Yield or what. Yield or lose everything. Yield or always wonder.

"Don't-" it's sharp. The same warning he gave Stede outside. His stomach turns and knots tightly. He feels sick.

"Don't say that word if you don't mean it, do me the barest fucking grace."

Maybe it's not always Edward making it about himself. Maybe sometimes a person needs to highlight that they know exactly how the other is feeling by explaining they've experienced the same thing. Edward isn't well-versed in this emotional maturity shit, okay, this is the best he can do right now. And maybe it's not even a fucking ultimatum... Izzy asked for a choice. Edward has given him one... and if there are any other fucking choices available, anyone else present is welcome to suggest them, but because Izzy Hands seems to only see the world in black and white, Edward doubts they can get any further than this.

It's so fucking infuriating... but Ed promised Stede he wouldn't be aggressive, and he's already teetered that line as it is. Nothing he says is right. He has a feeling even if he spent all the time in the world crafting the most meticulous reply, Izzy would still be able to pick it apart and hear what he wants to hear. It's a skill he seems to have honed far better than even his swordplay.

Edward shakes his head, frustrated. He can't look at Izzy anymore, feet already padding their way back to the piano where he'd been contemplating perhaps the last twenty years of his life. The robe isn't the only thing he'd stolen from Izzy’s room. At the end of the piano, sitting atop the lid, is the open case of Izzy’s violin, the very instrument Edward purchased him while under the spell of their vampirism. Ed likes to think he might have purchased it spell or not, an odd nostalgia for listening to Izzy play.

"You know... when I bought this for you," he murmurs, fingertips tracing the filigree of the instrument, "I was thinking for myself when I did it. Thinking of the man who used to play for me at night aboard The Ranger when our thoughts were too loud for sleep, so we filled the silence with music instead." He thinks he'd do anything to hear that song again, voice dripping with nostalgia and sadness. He turns to look at Izzy again.

"I'm sorry, Iz... I wanted to be more for you than some bewitched dickhead. I wanted to want it for myself, I wanted you to know I wanted it for myself. And when it all ended I didn't know how I'd ever convince you that I meant it. But I do."

An apology from Edward Teach. As rare as cut sapphires and far more priceless. If only it weren't like this. If it weren't happening like this. If it didn't feel like some...hail mary.

He casts Stede a forlorn look, feeling more confused and helpless than ever. It doesn't stop the anger, but confusion becomes the stronger emotion as he watches Edward retreat and take his place by the piano.

And his violin.

The violin he'd come to collect. God knows he doesn't own anything else important. But that.. that one single thing was important enough to come back for and risk this very encounter. It's too nice an item to let it be cast into the water, even if he might deserve it.

Izzy swallows hard and thinks for a moment on who they used to be. Those young, stupid boys working like dogs while they cast their great dreams to the stars. Who knew they could knuckle through for a little longer, just a little bit longer, until the time was right and they'd know freedom of their own. For real. Together.

They've done terrible things. For each other. To each other. Especially to each other.

But he wouldn't change a thing if it meant losing everything. He'd do it all again.

Maybe that's what's really wrong with him. Maybe that's why he doesn't deserve this change. Why he can't trust it's validity.

"You could have told me." he says and hates the breathless note in which it comes out. "Had it occurred to you, that I meant it too? That I have always meant it?"

It's more than that, though, isn't it. There is so much more. So many things and he can barely articulate anything as they all shoot forward to be counted.

"When did we stop being them?" He asks and glances to the instruments. When did it all go wrong?

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fuck ur fuckin brackets

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