abstracts | the pier.

Entry tags:

fallout

the pier.

Let him just say it now--the kid had a lot of problems.

I mean, not really a surprise or anything--Alex had found him dried out in a desert, for crying out loud--but god damn.

Let’s recap.

Alex Seattle Geer found himself in love with a Vault brat from the Capital Wasteland with a daddy complex the size of Hoover Dam. Said kid loves him back--sometimes. Said kid would probably rather put ~~another~~ bullet between Alex’s eyes rather than spend time with him, and didn’t this just go to show it. Neil leaves to check up a rumor, said he’d be back shortly--shortly became two days and by then Dogmeat was back, meaning Neil took off somewhere he was worried the dog would get hurt at. Two days turn into two weeks and counting, and by then, Alex has tracked Neil’s steps, found the fucking pier, the fucking tool of a woman looking for her child, and all of the pieces are too easily placed.

Neil left for Point Lookout. And Alex, ED-E, and Dogmeat are left hanging in the wind.

Alex has been fucking camping on the dirty sand and shit next to that pier, waiting for that stupid kid to come back on that stupid ferry the woman told him about. Tobar the fucking Ferryman, and Alex feels like shooting the asshole just for submitting to Neil’s request. Probably not the guy’s fault, but-- Hell. Yeah. He didn’t traipse all over the goddamn country just to be left in the dust. Is the kid even coming back? Who fucking knows.

Alex will just.

Wait here.

Until Neil comes back.

Yeah, that’s not pathetic at all.

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Neil holds the fruit before him, eyeing the patterns of fibers in the meat. He should eat it before he becomes too upset to attend to his own addictions.

"I left without telling you. Not even to inform you of where," he states. "For taking off in general. I should have just...stayed." Put up with it, the awkward emotions. The anger. The strange disconnect between them.

"Neil," Alex speaks, calling attention. Even with the care that had laced the air between them, even the shifting emotions inside of Alex, this is something that needs to be pointed out.

"There's no reason to regret that. You acted like you always have been. The only difference is the length of time--which wasn't even your doing. Why the fuck are you caring about this?" A spark of frustration slips into his expression and he muffles it down. "You wouldn't have before. Don't let it bother you now."

Edited 2016-07-25 06:42 (UTC)

Ah. That's true, isn't it? The person he is (was) would not think twice about his own choices. He would have gone to Point Lookout, enjoyed the sights and sounds, killed some, gained some, and come back perhaps better spirited than before he left.

Why do we do anything?

But there is that man's toothy grin, caked in blood.

You travel the world, kill people, take trophies that interest you, and move on.

As Neil should be. Alex is correct. Neil Park should be moving on, not caught in regret over his own actions, mourning his choices. He wouldn't have before. He would be--

But I suppose it's time that came to an end, one way or another.

He struggles to breathe, to reason, to think, and all that remains are the images of Tobar the Ferryman. Tobar smiling, laughing, taunting even as Neil brought the shovel down, as he smashed its metal against flesh and teeth. Over and over again until there isn't even a face, only a thread of skin and a pile of red pulp.

Unable to speak, Neil closes his fingers over the punga fruit, the tips pressing in. The fruit practically crumbles beneath his touch, his inhuman strength, its juice and flesh flying in every direction.

Well that... That says a few things, doesn't it.

The moment after the mess lays dripping, Alex reaches for Neil's hand. Attempts to uncoil the fingers before they dig into Neil's palm. The juice and pulp from the fruit are thick, sticky, and Alex only understands that there's something that Alex doesn't know here. Something that changed in the time Neil was gone. And Alex is an idiot, of course. Two violations happened to Neil and god knows what else... And here Alex is, harping on things that don't matter.

"...It's been a long couple of days," Alex says. "And a long couple of weeks before that. We should both just... focus on getting back to ourselves, maybe." An admittance, terrible as it is, that Alex is affected by all of this just as Neil is. Not in the same way, or to the same extent, but he is... ruined somewhat. By this and what happened.

Wouldn't the people that hate him love to know that?

"You've been dealing with that fever for a while, too. We should get washed up. Cool down." And clean the remains of regrets off of fingers and souls. Wouldn't that be nice?

Sticky juice runs down his arms, dripping onto his face, and somewhere Neil accepts that he has simply gone mad. That he should just give up before more things become much like this punga fruit. When Alex moves to uncurl fingers, Neil lets him. Puts up no resistance. The younger only looks at the mess with something like apathy.

Alex speaks, and Neil can only respond. Talk as if he had not just pulverized a punga fruit.

"Okay." Neil moves to sit up, careful not to ruin the sheet too much. "That sounds like a good idea."

When Neil moves, Alex reaches his other arm instantly to the kid's shoulder to steady him. Support him as he moves. Alex watches him closely, waiting until Neil is sitting.

"...Regardless of what's happened." In their past or at that ancient park. "I'm still right here, remember? I still want to be closer to you."

The support is appreciated. It helps Neil straighten much easier, allowing him to drag his legs over the side of the bed. He should stand, with Alex beside him, without any major problems.

Neil tries as he responds, as he addresses the reminder. "I haven't forgotten, Alex."

He feels like he's falling suddenly, windmilling out of control if he doesn't find something to steady him, because he feels like he's losing something in this moment, and there's something about that that's too familiar to touch, because it's something unable to be thought of, focused on, and--

There's a single beep from the doorway, emotionless, questionless, only a call for attention. And Alex's eyes rivet for a moment on the eyebot floating there.

The moment is broken by the dog wandering into the room, by the man next to Alex moving to stand. Alex stands instantly, puts a hand under Neil's arm to support him upward. After a moment, ED-E follows Dogmeat into the room.

"It's different," Alex says quietly. "Not needing to carry you."

He hasn't forgotten, but it's not enough. There's a disconnection felt from the other man, something lost in translation, and Neil doesn't have the words. Doesn't have the sentiments to give Alex.

Another does, however. And time, as they say, moves on, and they move forward. With help, he is able to stand. Neil's grateful, and he cannot say.

Dogmeat pads over, silent as the grave, to nudge his cold nose against his master's shin. Neil stays as is, sandwiched between two, wavering on his feet. Alex speaks, and Neil--

"Less of a burden on you like this." He smiles, the gesture mirthless. "I think."

Edited 2016-07-27 05:38 (UTC)

The humorless expression is less amusing for Alex, and in spite-despite of the progress being made, he leans down regardless. Scoops the kid up with little effort until Neil is in his arms like before. Except possibly more coherent.

Alex grins down at Neil, mind more settled with him in his arms. Because he needs to make things easier for this kid, if not better. If nothing else. "Too bad I like you like this, then."

There is nothing more humiliating for a young man than being perfectly coherent when another decides to sweep him off his feet. Very literally, in this case. Whatever gravity Neil has held simply vanishes to the air, allowing disbelief and exasperation to take its place.

He goes to struggle against Alex, to put himself back on his own two feet. Too bad the effort is futile as Neil spent his remaining energy getting up from bed. "Alex," he says, his voice strained. "Old man, you know I can walk. Put me down."

Edited 2016-07-31 22:31 (UTC)

Amused at the struggles--sobered by them--Alex tips his head down to nuzzle Neil's head, accepting any slaps this would provoke. "Nope," he says quietly, tucking Neil to hold him closer. "I said I like this."

The reaction he expects is pure humor. Alex, however, offers affection, and it throws Neil off-balance, an aspect he already needs at the moment.

Thus, instead of hitting the other man, Neil flushes to a beet red, eyes flickering to their surroundings for evidence of witnesses. Aside from Dogmeat and ED-E, of course, there are none others. Still--

"No, really," he stammers. "This is too much. It's almost--" Romantic, is what he doesn't say. "You should really let me walk to the damn pool."

His body had loosened in preparation of any hits, and when Neil only acts nervous in response, flushes a wonderful color in turn, Alex just--

Forgets. Maybe that's it. Maybe he just forgets his intentions. Just for a moment.

He kisses Neil's temple and holds him closer. Maybe somewhere else Alex would note the flush, tease Neil mercilessly for his reaction. But here, he just-- "You make me regret that I can't be inside you, Wanderer."

In that instant, from that singular response, Neil stops struggling. He ceases his protests long enough to watch Alex with his dark eyes, to consider the one question he often overlooked in favor of pride. Of denial, of justification.

What is this between them, exactly? He said he loved Alex, thought of him as a friend, but he doesn't think he knew what that meant at that time. And perhaps now he thinks that he should have known.

He stills completely, falling silent, eyes still fixed, unblinking, on Alex.

Alex pulls back, the smiles still lurking at the corners of his lips. "...What?" he asks finally. "Too much?"

Neil blinks, and the spell is broken. Left buried. He glances over at the door before again eyeing the other man. "It's fine," he says evenly. Almost kindly. "Let's just get on with destroying whatever dignity I have left."

"Sure thing," he answers easily. "One thing, though."

That thing being a repeat of many times before. Alex ducking his head to take Neil's lips to taste him thoroughly.

That one thing is an act known--occasionally tolerated, barely accepted. The mind wanders again as his lips are taken, and Neil knows. Beyond what has occurred, past and present, he will eventually have to choose how he will be. How exactly he will be to this man.

He's the first to break away, red still lingering on his skin. "Satisfied?" he asks lightly.

Alex turns as Neil breaks, companions trailing behind. The man feigns thoughtfulness, then smiles again. "Never," he declares truthfully.

The word hangs there in the air, and Alex thinks to continue as he walks from the room-- "Not with you. You stir me up. But at least it's never boring."

There's movement from all with Neil simply along for the ride. It's, as stated, quite humiliating, but right now, there is nothing else he can do about it. They leave the room as Alex continues.

"That's me," he replies blandly. "Never boring." Always stirring shit, in one thing or another. Not because it's all him, of course. No, Neil Park himself is quite boring.

This-- This is just a six-year habit he's nursing.

"That's right," Alex says, not privy to the thoughts in Neil's mind. He wanders past where he had murdered men in the recent past--thinks he can still scent the discharge of energy weapons in the air.

His arms tighten slightly. "You're a refreshing breath of air, kid. Never forget it."

They pass the place where men met their end, where Xavier's ash pile still sits, and Neil merely watches past it all. He watches a scene playing in a time set in the not-so-distant past, words repeating over and over again in that stifling room.

I'm much the same. There had been humor, ever present even in the face of certain death. The only difference is that my trophies are somewhat more medical in nature. Oh, and to be honest, I probably kill fewer people than you do.

Neil swallows. Despite his focus, he continues to address the present. "Refreshing, huh?" It's a thought, one he lets go of immediately.

"Yeah," Alex answers quietly. They move through an underground location that Alex desperately wants to be out of, but moves as with the utmost patience. There is reaction and there is response. Choice is in one, but not the other.

"You've kept me moving, after all." So-- "The least I can do is return the favor here."

Something of Alex's response draws Neil out of his mind, back into the waking world. "Moving?" he echoes, his voice almost hesitant. "What are you talking about?"

Kept Alex moving. The statement hardly makes any sense.

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