[ He turns that into a promise, giving him a hard look to go with it. The tingling warmth of the magic is sliding down his arm, rolling around his joints, easing some of the inflammation of muscles tearing themselves to shreds trying to move inflexible metal. As soon as he realises what's going on, he tugs his hand back out of Nick's grip, scowling. ]
It's only gonna be for a month, Nick. I can take care of myself for that long. [ He growls the words, his anger not necessarily directed at Nick, or anyone who wants to help. That's part of what makes it so frustrating, an impotent frustration with nowhere to go. ] No need to treat me like a goddamn invalid. I'm tellin' ya so you're not surprised.
( he could just--keep going anyway, the contact isn't needed for nick's magic to work, it just helps, but he figures that's probably being overly provocative. maybe worth it, but he might as well save pissing logan off over something like this for later in the month.
still. he chews at the side of his cheek, teeth digging in and a downward slant to his mouth as he turns his eyes to the miserable looking park in front of them. not that the place ever looks particularly nice, but there's something about late winter that makes the gloomy down even more depressing than usual. )
You know, people not wanting you to suffer when they can really easily help isn't 'treating you like an invalid'. ( he shrugs, tugs a sleeve over his hand, picks listlessly at the hem of it for something to do with his hands. )
[ These days there's a certain amount of anger that's sitting dangerously close to the surface of Logan's day-to-day state of mind. He'll readily admit that it's always there, a constant black-eyed companion, but lately it's been getting harder to ignore. He looks up at the side of Nick's head and the way he's pointedly not looking back at him and feels it turn over inside of him, stretching out against the bars of its cage.
Fuck.
He searches for control and finds it again, though not before letting out a short sharp sigh. ]
Fine. Fine, if you wanna help, take a look at this -- [ He hooks his fingers into the collar of the sweater he's wearing and the t-shirt underneath, dragging them both down until some of the letters burned into his bare skinned chest are visible. The I lands right on his sternum, the other ends of the word curving down over his pecs. Thanks to Dick it's no longer a raw wound, but something about it resists the healing, resists the magic that should have healed it over completely, and it's pink and irritated, inflamed along some of the edges.
Logan watches Nick's face, almost daring him to react. ]
See that? It says "deviant". They burned it into me after they shaved every goddam inch of my body. This is the kind of shit that you're gonna have to deal with. Still wanna help?
( nick doesn't get angry, because there's no point to it. he doesn't get angry and he doesn't let it fester and he definitely doesn't entertain thoughts that sometimes he'd like to tear this place apart brick by brick and sometimes he thinks he might just be able to. because it's a waste of time.
it's awfully hard to remember that he doesn't get angry when he sees something like that.
logan obviously wants a reaction but nick doesn't give one. he's getting better at that these days, and that's probably a red flag in and of itself but there's only so much he can focus on at a time, and right now it's pretty clear what the priority is. he fights the urge to raise his hand, the kneejerk need to fix, and instead just looks at logan with a--complicated expression. not quite sad but something close. )
[ If it's a victory, it's a pyrrhic one. Logan lets go of his sweater almost immediately and drops his hand back into his lap, not quite able to meet Nick's gaze. If he spends too long looking into the -- he can't not see it as hurt, as betrayal -- in Nick's expression he's not sure if he'll be able to stop himself from breaking down, and he's pretty sure once he starts that he won't be able to stop.
He takes a breath instead. Lets it out. ]
No. No, I know you would. [ Now he looks up at him. ] You gotta understand, Nick.. I'm not used to bein' like this. Last time it almost drove me nuts. Time before that it killed me and I'm pretty sure I went out wantin' it to. My whole life, I've been the one runnin' in front of gunfire, blades, bombs and worse. 'Cause I could survive. So I had to be the one to be on that front line. You understand? That's all I had. All I did.
Being like this -- [ He plucks at his sweater, frowning in disgust. ] -- I've got nothin' left. So it's hard to.. accept help. 'Cause that means acceptin' that this is all I've got. And that now I can't even..
[ He trails off, unable to finish that sentence. ]
I don't think anyone expects you to change lifetime habits in like, a couple of days.
( it's never easy hearing about anything in logan's life. for all the pain this place has caused, it's clear there's far more that has built up outside of it. it's hard to hear, hard to look at, but nick holds his gaze all the same. even if his teeth dig into his cheeks so hard it hurts and his hand flexes awkwardly between them without something to do.
his eyes flicker down to the spot covered up by the sweater again where he knows a brand sits. and it's just so unnecessarily humiliating, it almost feels--worse, than some of the violence this place has launched against them. he doesn't get angry, but it's just another bitter little pill that's going to eat at him, in the quiet spaces where he can't distract himself with anything else. )
Sometimes I think I'd rather not be here at all than figure out how to ask for help. Or worse, actually let people. ( it's directed at logan's cheek rather than his eyes, gaze just a little off as he twists a smile onto his face that feels all wrong. ) Do you want it to hurt, is that part of it?
[ It's difficult to realise the places where he and Nick mirror each other. To see those cracks in someone who has been through all the shit he's put himself through, all the messed up crap that's happened to him whether he deserved it or not -- he can almost understand it. Somehow it feels like it would be worse to come out the other side of that completely sane and whole.
Nick, though -- he's been through dark times, mostly because of the man he's trying to comfort. Logan's mouth thins out as he sets his jaw on that shame and guilt. It tastes bitter, as does the truth that wants to break past his teeth. ]
Yeah. [ He sighs, a shifting weight. Without thinking, he rubs his fingertips over the back of his hand, where Nick's magic has made the skin whole. It's not a new revelation. Probably not that surprising to anyone who knows him. ] Yeah, part of me does. I'm used to the hurt. Not so used to the.. fuss.
( it's one thing to know something, more or less, and another to hear it confirmed so plainly. just because it isn't surprising doesn't make the answer any more welcome. the corners of nick's mouth still slants downwards and he doesn't have the energy to try and act like it doesn't.
besides. acting well when everything's not has him feeling kind of slimy these days. )
I think you probably already know the fuss isn't going anywhere.
( it's not just him, nick knows that. logan has a lot of people, clearly more than he's used to, and it's something of a relief that he can't be the only person making these arguments. surely someone's will sink in, at some point. nick draws his leg up onto the bench, arms looped around his leg, chin on his knee and eyes out on the frozen slush all over the ground that passes for winter down here.
he bites his tongue around admissions about his own habits. nick knows, in his more honest moments, why he gouges nonsense tattoos into himself, why he seeks out some of the sex he does, why a powder or a pill has always been more of a comfort than a shoulder and a friendly ear. but this isn't about him, so nick puts a welcome lid on that and tips his face back towards logan. )
Part of the trade off of having people love you is that it's going to be really fucking overwhelming any time you're hurting. It's hard to see it and not do something, when you can. You wouldn't just sit back and watch me shove a knife into my guts for kicks, would you.
no subject
[ He turns that into a promise, giving him a hard look to go with it. The tingling warmth of the magic is sliding down his arm, rolling around his joints, easing some of the inflammation of muscles tearing themselves to shreds trying to move inflexible metal. As soon as he realises what's going on, he tugs his hand back out of Nick's grip, scowling. ]
It's only gonna be for a month, Nick. I can take care of myself for that long. [ He growls the words, his anger not necessarily directed at Nick, or anyone who wants to help. That's part of what makes it so frustrating, an impotent frustration with nowhere to go. ] No need to treat me like a goddamn invalid. I'm tellin' ya so you're not surprised.
no subject
( he could just--keep going anyway, the contact isn't needed for nick's magic to work, it just helps, but he figures that's probably being overly provocative. maybe worth it, but he might as well save pissing logan off over something like this for later in the month.
still. he chews at the side of his cheek, teeth digging in and a downward slant to his mouth as he turns his eyes to the miserable looking park in front of them. not that the place ever looks particularly nice, but there's something about late winter that makes the gloomy down even more depressing than usual. )
You know, people not wanting you to suffer when they can really easily help isn't 'treating you like an invalid'. ( he shrugs, tugs a sleeve over his hand, picks listlessly at the hem of it for something to do with his hands. )
no subject
Fuck.
He searches for control and finds it again, though not before letting out a short sharp sigh. ]
Fine. Fine, if you wanna help, take a look at this -- [ He hooks his fingers into the collar of the sweater he's wearing and the t-shirt underneath, dragging them both down until some of the letters burned into his bare skinned chest are visible. The I lands right on his sternum, the other ends of the word curving down over his pecs. Thanks to Dick it's no longer a raw wound, but something about it resists the healing, resists the magic that should have healed it over completely, and it's pink and irritated, inflamed along some of the edges.
Logan watches Nick's face, almost daring him to react. ]
See that? It says "deviant". They burned it into me after they shaved every goddam inch of my body. This is the kind of shit that you're gonna have to deal with. Still wanna help?
no subject
it's awfully hard to remember that he doesn't get angry when he sees something like that.
logan obviously wants a reaction but nick doesn't give one. he's getting better at that these days, and that's probably a red flag in and of itself but there's only so much he can focus on at a time, and right now it's pretty clear what the priority is. he fights the urge to raise his hand, the kneejerk need to fix, and instead just looks at logan with a--complicated expression. not quite sad but something close. )
Do you actually think I wouldn't?
cw: suicidal ideation mention
He takes a breath instead. Lets it out. ]
No. No, I know you would. [ Now he looks up at him. ] You gotta understand, Nick.. I'm not used to bein' like this. Last time it almost drove me nuts. Time before that it killed me and I'm pretty sure I went out wantin' it to. My whole life, I've been the one runnin' in front of gunfire, blades, bombs and worse. 'Cause I could survive. So I had to be the one to be on that front line. You understand? That's all I had. All I did.
Being like this -- [ He plucks at his sweater, frowning in disgust. ] -- I've got nothin' left. So it's hard to.. accept help. 'Cause that means acceptin' that this is all I've got. And that now I can't even..
[ He trails off, unable to finish that sentence. ]
cw: ongoing suicidal ideation ref
( it's never easy hearing about anything in logan's life. for all the pain this place has caused, it's clear there's far more that has built up outside of it. it's hard to hear, hard to look at, but nick holds his gaze all the same. even if his teeth dig into his cheeks so hard it hurts and his hand flexes awkwardly between them without something to do.
his eyes flicker down to the spot covered up by the sweater again where he knows a brand sits. and it's just so unnecessarily humiliating, it almost feels--worse, than some of the violence this place has launched against them. he doesn't get angry, but it's just another bitter little pill that's going to eat at him, in the quiet spaces where he can't distract himself with anything else. )
Sometimes I think I'd rather not be here at all than figure out how to ask for help. Or worse, actually let people. ( it's directed at logan's cheek rather than his eyes, gaze just a little off as he twists a smile onto his face that feels all wrong. ) Do you want it to hurt, is that part of it?
no subject
Nick, though -- he's been through dark times, mostly because of the man he's trying to comfort. Logan's mouth thins out as he sets his jaw on that shame and guilt. It tastes bitter, as does the truth that wants to break past his teeth. ]
Yeah. [ He sighs, a shifting weight. Without thinking, he rubs his fingertips over the back of his hand, where Nick's magic has made the skin whole. It's not a new revelation. Probably not that surprising to anyone who knows him. ] Yeah, part of me does. I'm used to the hurt. Not so used to the.. fuss.
no subject
besides. acting well when everything's not has him feeling kind of slimy these days. )
I think you probably already know the fuss isn't going anywhere.
( it's not just him, nick knows that. logan has a lot of people, clearly more than he's used to, and it's something of a relief that he can't be the only person making these arguments. surely someone's will sink in, at some point. nick draws his leg up onto the bench, arms looped around his leg, chin on his knee and eyes out on the frozen slush all over the ground that passes for winter down here.
he bites his tongue around admissions about his own habits. nick knows, in his more honest moments, why he gouges nonsense tattoos into himself, why he seeks out some of the sex he does, why a powder or a pill has always been more of a comfort than a shoulder and a friendly ear. but this isn't about him, so nick puts a welcome lid on that and tips his face back towards logan. )
Part of the trade off of having people love you is that it's going to be really fucking overwhelming any time you're hurting. It's hard to see it and not do something, when you can. You wouldn't just sit back and watch me shove a knife into my guts for kicks, would you.