tushanshu | 9 → Video

Entry tags:

9 → Video

[Stiles is much, much happier than the last time he made a network post. He's also in a considerably different location. He's not in his suite in the Earth sector. In fact, for those who pay attention to these sorts of things, they'll note that he's calling it in from Derek's network ID. Welp.]

Ladies and gentlemen of Keelai, I have a very important announcement to make. Today, April the eighth, marks a momentous occasion in history. A day to be spoken of in legend and myth and song, when the stars and planets align, and rainbows and puppies spontaneously appear.

I am eighteen.

You are looking at an official man, everybody. It is my birthday, hosanna hosanna, hallelujah and so on.

Since Amazon gift registries aren't a thing here, I'll be happy to provide a written list of acceptable tributes and gifts, form an orderly line if you please, no shoving.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He glances around the apartment, eyebrows high. Oh wow. Even he wasn't this bad when he was heartbroken. Holy cow.]

No, you're not. Trust me, you're not. Sit.

[He points a commanding finger at her sofa, picking through the debris on his way to her kitchen. Oh, lord, it's a disaster too. He starts tucking the groceries away one by one, except one little bowl of soup he brought for her.]

[There's something about the way he speaks that makes her listen, forces her to take a seat on her couch.]

You do not know me well enough, Stiles.

[She doesn't bother to watch him in the kitchen.]

I am more at home here. Amidst the mess, drunk, with nothing in my stomach. Alone.

[He gives her a flat, disbelieving look.]

Yeah, no. I am all about the survivor's guilt, I am the king of survivor's guilt, and you're not taking my crown from me. So you're going to eat, and you're gonna sober up, and then we're gonna clean your suite together.

It is not survivor's guilt, Stiles. It is heartache and heartbreak and loneliness.

[so there. your plan is now nullified]

[Yeah uh huh, sure, keep telling yourself that, 'Ponine.]

Fine. You can have the Heartbreak Crown, we'll put glitter on it. But you're still eating something.

[He peels the lid off the bowl of soup, and it does smell delicious.]

Wonton soup. Carbs, protein, vegetables. Sip the broth slowly at first, okay?

I have lost too much.

[All the same, she accepts the soup. It really does smell good. God damn it, Stiles. She looks at the soup, then at him.]

It is your birthday. [And so she does indeed, sip at the broth.]

Yes it is. And like I said, your present to me is you taking care of yourself.

[He watches her eat, one eyebrow cocked at her.]

This is what we call "situational depression." It is an actual thing, with actual consequences for your health. Alcohol is a depressant. So no more of that for a while, okay? I will lecture you until you fall over bleeding from the ears if that's what it takes.

"Situational depression," [she repeats, the words foreign.]

But I like it. It removes some of the pain, Stiles.

Mmmnnnno. No, it actually really doesn't.

Lemme tell you a little story. It's about a man who lost almost everything, except his son. His wife died of a terrible disease, which rotted her brain out of her head. So he tried to follow her, by crawling into a bottle. And in his sober moments, his little son kept wondering what the hell he did so wrong to make his daddy not want to be around.

[Yeah this is a story about his father.]

[She considers this.] But I have lost everything. I have few friends. I would not fit into a bottle, but I can have them fill me.

[A pause]

And I have no son.

My point is. That you can mask the pain, or you can deal with it. In the short term, masking things is gonna feel fine.

In the long term, though, it's gonna lead to worse pain. And don't feed me a line about 'no such thing as long term for me' because I will not hear it.

You have friends. You have me, at the very least, and I know there are others. Okay?

[She has to swallow her 'no such thing as long term for me'. Damn it, Stiles.

Ironically, it's masking the pain that has lead her to this. So perhaps, he does have a point. Her shoulders slump forward as she takes another sip of broth.]

Okay. [She'd picked up on a few more modern phrases and okay was one of them.]

I do not have the energy to fight you, Stiles.

Damn right you don't. Later, when you're better, you can bicker with me to your heart's content. I even hope you do it in French, because that would honestly be kinda awesome. I've never been chewed out in French before, I need to add it to my life experiences.

Keep sipping that soup.

I shall do it in French, then. Another birthday present.

[She has a wicked tongue when necessary. Which, in her life, was pretty much all the time.]

I am sipping, I am sipping.

[Could she add vodka to this?]

[Vodka in wonton soup? Eponine you're either insane or a genius.]

See if you can get down one of the wontons. They're delicious.

[Probably both.

With a fork, she picks one up and frowns at it. and then, like a stubborn child, she'll take a tiny nibble. Not bad. But, at the same time, her stomach lurches. Not good.]

[He sees her go pale, and takes the soup out of her hands.]

Go. Bathroom. Get it all up, girl.

[Eponine gives a small noise in response, before hurrying to the bathroom and dropping to her knees.

Gripping the bowl, she spends what feels like forever getting everything out of her stomach, and then some. Finally, with burning throat and stinging eyes, she pushes back, flushes, and looks over at Stiles.]

I am a mess.

A hot mess. Yup.

But in a few days you won't be.

[He goes to the kitchen and pulls her a large glass of water, not ice cold. He returns and hands it to her gently.]

Start sipping.

But I feel cold.

[Some things are beyond her.

With shaking hands, she accepts the glass, and obeys wordlessly. Small sips, pausing only to wipe her eyes on the back of her hand.]

You are still here. I am glad for it.

[In answer to that, he finds a blanket somewhere under the mess, and drapes it across her shoulders, tucking it in so she feels warmer.]

If there's one thing I'm good at, it's taking care of my friends. And being incredibly stubborn when they get their heads lodged in their asses. You're too nice of a girl for cranial proctology.

[She pulls the blanket tighter.]

I am not a nice girl, Stiles.

You are lucky- I cannot fight you back. For I am as stubborn as they come.

I'm not a nice boy. So it all kinda works out.

And trust me, you're not. I've met people waaaaay more stubborn. I'm living with the personification of stubborn. And I get through to him just fine.

Ah. You are sweet.

[She keeps working on the water, standing up on shaky legs to return to the couch.]

You shall see.

So shall you. As long as we're shall-ing each other.

[As she sits and sips, he starts tidying things up a bit. Picking up clothes (which all need washing) and throwing away the garbage. Damn, those are a lot of empty bottles.]

9 → Video

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!

action!