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General Discontent

There was a moment when Malaise did begin to ease up, almost in spite of himself, tilting his head just so at Fletcher's touch and exhaling slowly. It felt good. It felt nice to have him say something for him, even if there was a kernel of shame reminding him that he'd never been there for Fletcher the same way. It was still reassuring to be loved by someone in the moment, whether or not he deserved it.

Even so.

As Malaise's father simply shrugged in response and began to do just that, to walk away, it was like something crept into Malaise's skin as panic swelled him, making him lurch forward after him with a death grip still on Fletcher's sleeve. "So that's it?! You're really just going to ******** go?! No '******** you', no 'thanks for cleaning the ******** drool off my ******** face', no nothing?! That's it?! That's seriously all you have for me?!"

Word vomit. It was aggressive and toxic and just a touch of raw desperation that really had no place being there, and Malaise hated himself for it, he felt sick with it, but even then he couldn't help himself. "s**t ******** a*****e, that's that you always ******** were!! Come back from the ******** dead and this is still how you ******** act you piece of s**t ******** -- !!"

"Never did want to be a dad, " the old man remarked frankly, but dismissively, like he was commenting on the weather. "Really didn't want it with your b***h of a mother. You know this, you've known for years, " it didn't stop Malaise from recoiling like he'd been hit when he heard it again. "Death doesn't change it. Grow the ******** up, Leon."

Then he just turned and walked away.

Malaise kind of rocked on his heels for a moment, his mind momentarily blank as he tried to process the exchange, several reactions vying for dominance.

General Discontent

I'm sorry.

He could get that from Fletcher, who didn't have any reason to say it, and couldn't ******** get it from his own goddamn father. That was half of what set him off, snapping out of his stupor long enough to shout after the retreating form of his father, "******** you!!"

Like maybe it'd make him turn ******** you, you old, useless ******** p***k!!"

Malaise was rocking on the balls of his feet as he shouted, like he half-wanted to lunge after him. But he didn't, and the man didn't look back, and in the end, it was just how it began - nothing changed, and there was nothing to change, no many how many expletives and insults or whatever else he threw at him.

He didn't really know when yelling stopped and crying started, but it did, and he ******** hated that it did, turning a straight 180 from the entire situation and shoving a hand over his masked face as he hissed under the breath.

General Discontent

It didn't take much to get Mal to go with him. He was stiff, awkward now where he usually wasn't, but half-blinded by tears and desperate to be anywhere that wasn't there, he allowed himself to be led. To lift the mask was to reveal a mess of horrible black smears, make-up that had taken him entirely too long before coming here damaged beyond repair.

There was a long moment where the kiss was enough, more than enough, where Malaise choked into it and running shaking hands all over Fletcher's body, roaming from his back to his shoulder to his chest and then his thighs. It was like he desperately wanted to leave the moment behind and replace it with something else, something better, something good -

Then broke away sudden, his hands balling in the front of Fletcher's shirt to keep him where he was, and there was something wildly off in his eyes.

"I did that to you."

He choked, coughing, and shook his head as he added, "But I looked back. I did. You don't know it, but - you do, right? You know I looked back?"

Malaise didn't really know what he wanted. Whether he wanted to be told he was different from his father or not. Maybe there was no right answer. Maybe he didn't even want anything, but he wanted to say it.

General Discontent

Malaise shut his eyes and just tried to compose himself, tried to focus on the sensation of Fletcher's talented fingers wiping away the remnants of his shameful display. He thought of a lot of things that he wanted to say, but in the end, he didn't say any of them.

"He never hit me or anything."

He didn't know why he felt the need to clarify.

"There was always a roof over my head. Things like that."

A silence that went on entirely too long dragged over them.

"Don't tell her."

He didn't even know why he said it. It wasn't about wanting to keep Lacey out of anything, and he didn't know if Fletcher could keep it between them or not, or if he'd want to talk to him about it, or - "It's just ******** - I don't want to talk about him anymore."

Malaise kind of laughed, it was forced and his eyes were still wet. "********, that monster from last time's looking pretty ******** glamorous now. Least I got pills out of that one. Magic parties ******** suck."

He trailed back into silence again, staring off. "I don't know how you don't get sick of me. Honestly. It's ******** exhausting."

Fish Out of Water

Her teasing was lighthearted but he could hear the pain behind the words, like she didn't believe he was really meaning what he was saying. It was almost with a sad little tone, the words replaying back in the back of his head:

"No one's ever kissed me outside of family before, you know."

No one had ever kissed him outside of his Umma, so he could relate, though he'd never really given the lack of affection much thought. Yet Fish knew how much dances meant to girls, how much magic was involved when it came to nights like tonight - his Umma had read him all the fairy tales, he knew how Cinderella and the other stories went. And she - Cabbages - very well could have been a stand-in in green for the princess herself that evening and deserved every bit of magic to grace her evening.

Squeezing her hand gently as she returned from her spin, he scoffed, "That wasn't a kiss."

Her softness drew near again as they returned to swaying with the slow song, blue eyes watching her every move as his actions quietly played out in his head. One hand continued holding her waist while the one holding her hand broke free, rising up to cup her cheek.

While the mask blocked a good bit of it, he could still feel the warmth of her blush beneath his palm as he leaned down before she could rebuke him. Lips murmured, "this is" before eyes closed.

And then he kissed her.

Fish Out of Water

He didn't think twice until she started feeling beneath his mask, making him realize just how close she'd come to him, how close he'd come to her and how they were practically clinging to one another. But there wasn't time to second guess his decision to kiss her or over think it, not when she was doing something absolutely crazy like pulling off her mask in the middle of the masquerade.

"Barnett, what are you doin---"

The harsh question died in his throat when he realized what he'd done.

Eyes closed and he let out a heavy sigh for a moment, trying to collect himself and his thoughts as he now knew he'd have to come clean with her - have to confess the obvious and spoil her fun for the evening. He'd outed himself nearly just as bad as she'd just outed herself. So much for letting her have a magical night. Now she knew the mysterious man was none other than the dunce next door - the poor guy who didn't know his way around a computer, much less a woman at a dance.

Swallowing hard, he did his best to keep his chin held high as he murmured, "Sorry to disappoint you."

And then, "Told you I was a Fish Out of Water."

General Discontent

It was a matter of poor timing. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong person. Fletcher was never intended to see that, be exposed to it - but he was, and now he knew, and Malaise supposed there were worse people that could have seen it. Fletcher would not judge, he would not pity, he would accept and accept the terms that came with it. That was something Malaise could live with.

Those fingers felt especially cool against cheeks that had grown too warm and annoyingly blotchy with wasteful tears. He reached up to press them there, keeping them captive. "Thank you."

The kiss was light and pleasant and very much needed, but nothing lifted him like that retort from the redhead - and abruptly, Malaise really was laughing. He slapped Fletcher playfully on the shoulder as he flashed him a wide grin. "********, " but he said it with about as much affection as most would say 'I love you'.

Then he slid his mask back down into place (couldn't have anyone else seeing him as such a ******** mess) and kissed Fletcher again. "In lieu of that, I'll accept a quickie, another glass, and a dance. Handjobs are also acceptable."