meadowlarklogs

Oh.

[So that's why he'd gotten so quiet.

Kyna can't help but wonder if that's worse, not knowing at all. At least she knows how much of a dick her father is. In some ways, it tempers the loss. If she'd never known him at all, would she have built him up as some sort of perfect father?]

Did you want to know? Or did you just... you know.

[ The quiet stretches out for a long and contemplative second. A muscle in Ian's jaw twitches, back teeth set, searching for a version of the truth his pride will accept. ]

It doesn't matter. Did just fine without him.

[ Which is... maybe entirely too simple, transparently hiding more complex feelings, so he'll concede a little. ]

I did when I was a kid. Gave up on caring in my teens.

[Kyna's mouth twists at that, and she can't help but sound skeptical when she responds.]

You did?

Yeah.

[ An immediate answer, and maybe a touch defiant.

That's what he wants to believe. What he spitefully believes. The truth he acknowledges, while refusing to examine the issue any deeper for how it might be playing out in his life. ]

[The insistence makes her believe it less. It sounds too much like the tack she takes when she sick of the pity and just wants to shut a conversation down.]

It must've been... really hard, though. Without both of your parents.

[ He shakes his head a little. ]

I had my mom, most of the time.

[ That's an overstatement. He had her like a fourth of the time at best. ]

She only went around grad school.

[ Wait, did he tell Kyna about that already or did he just tip his hand on accident? Shit. ]

[He tipped his hand a little.]

What happened?

[It just pops out, and she winces at herself.]

Sorry, I mean... You don't have to tell me. Only if you want to.

[ He licks his lips, hesitates. Contemplates not for the first time how much of himself he wants to give away, how much he wants to dig into. He hasn't touched a lot of this shit since it happened, it's just been... there, under the surface, a splinter that's been covered by layers and layers of skin. ]

She, um. She was a smoker. So.

[ It's a tale as old as time. The oldest cliche in the book. ]

Lung cancer.

[ And he watched her go, slowly, for months. She seemed tired the whole time. Resigned.

And the fucked up thing is-- he breathes out a soft and humorless laugh. ]

She didn't quit smoking right up through the end.

[ It feels like she didn't even try, and he takes it so personally it aches. She couldn't have just tried for him, and though they didn't have the insurance for it, though they didn't have a chance in hell, he still resents the fact that smoking kept her off the potential donors list for a transplant.

But he's trying not to think about it, and about how angry he still is. ]

[She's stunned silent by it, shock and overwhelming sympathy making her stumble over what the hell to say. She doesn't need the empathy bond to guess how that felt, knowing your parent wouldn't even try to fight, and sure, she has no real proof Ian felt that way, but she would, and something in the way he forces it out makes her guess.

Kyna can't imagine dealing with that alone, without family to soften the blow, and suddenly so much about him clicks into place. She pulls away from her place pressed into his side, enough to turn to him more fully and wrap both arms around him.

As always, she doesn't know what to say, what she could possibly say, so she falls back on what's familiar—pressing a kiss against his cheek, brief enough that it barely activates the empathy bond, certainly not long enough to recognize any concrete emotions. She doesn't want to force that level of intimacy when he's already opening up.]

I'm so, so sorry, Ian. That must have been fucking awful.

[ She pulls her lips away before he has time to have a small freak-out about it, which is a solid call. Even this is bordering on too much, it's tipping his scale a little. Adding that on top would have him gently but firmly evacuating the apartment as soon as tactfully possible.

As it is, he's a little noncommittal about hugging her back — not because he doesn't appreciate or enjoy it, it's just... hard, or new. New territory, new navigation, he doesn't know how he feels being consoled for this because it's never happened before.

It feels like a precarious thing — some people in life can hold themselves together perfectly right up until someone touches or hugs them, and the comfort breaks everything down in an abrupt and overwhelming outpouring. It feels like he skirts the edge of that concept. Not yet close, but the notion of the possibility flitters through his mind. ]

It's okay. It was a long time ago.

[ Ten years? A little more maybe? Plenty of time for it to callous over. ]

[Kyna keeps her chin propped gently on his shoulder for a moment, more casual contact than an active attempt at comfort. When she pulls back, it's enough to give him a bit of space, though she keeps one arm wrapped around him loosely.]

Yeah.

[Maybe that's true.]

It's okay if it's not okay too, you know.

[It's not so much an attempt at pushing as an attempt at acknowledgment. As much as she tries to convince herself she doesn't care about her dad or his shitty family, a part of her still does. And maybe he doesn't really want to talk about it—she wouldn't blame him—but she wants him to know he has the option, even if it's not now.]

[ He chews on his lips for a second, absent and contemplative. Maybe less that and more... distant, far away. Looking at the past from a bird's-eye view. He tunes back in with a minute shake of his head.

Not gonna go down that route. ]

Anyway, I guess the point is... I get it. Sort of. Part of it, anyway. So. That's all.

[ Not the magic part, of course, but the screwed up parental part? He is intimately familiar with that. ]

But honestly, I think I've reached peak emotional bonding capacity for the week. I'm gonna unsubtly change the subject, please drink more tequila.

[Kyna's lips quirk up a little, amused, and she pulls back fully. It's probably time to give him space before he combusts. She still can't help but find it funny that they had a whole conversation about not "talking" about stuff like this, and yet here they are. Apparently they're even shitty at being terrible at opening up.]

For the week? Wow, I was expecting a year.

[She does dump more tequila into her knock off Sunny D, though, just to make him happy.]

Okay, new subject. What's the worst you've fucked up in one of your experiments? Have you ever blown anything up?

[ He stares off into the middle distance, looking haunted. ]

Yeah.

[ Long pause. ]

They never did find the rest of that school bus.

Wow, brutal.

[She's going to dump more tequila in his glass, too. Sharing is caring.]

And that's why you grew the beard and went on the run, right?

[ His face splits into a grin, though whether it's from the extra tequila or her joke is hard to say. ]

Exactly.

[ And therein is how Kyna and Ian spend the rest of their night — pretending like they didn't just talk about some really serious shit, and instead just sort of drinking about it. ]

[OPEN]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject