TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

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[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion watches him for a moment, feeling sick with sheer helplessness. He's had episodes of his own, feeling so deeply immersed in some other place or time, and he doesn't know what would have helped him.

It would help if he could hear himself think.

"Jacob, I - stay here. I'll be back soon."

He grabs his bow on the way out and will return in a few minutes.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

By the time he returns, Jacob's still curled up in the corner, but his hands have stopped shaking. He has his face buried in his knees.

The alarms have stopped, thank god, and he can think a little more about it. But - he breathes through the moment, not even looking up when the door opens again.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion watches him for a moment, then sits down on the floor a few paces away, crossing his legs.

He doesn't know what to do, what to say - and it's hard to fight down the wave of self-loathing that ignorance brings with it. Yes, he's stupid and selfish, but isn't it even moreso to focus on those facts when Jacob needs him?

"...Jacob. Can you hear me?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He lets out a shuddering breath, not looking over at him.

And it takes him a full ten seconds to respond. He doesn't know if he's capable of it. He doesn't know if he should. The silence is so nice and his voice seems so far away. There's static in his head that's so fuzzy it's almost painful, but he manages a soft - "Yeah."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Good. You're safe. Nothing is happening. You don't have to do anything."

Including indulgence of Astarion's fretting. They can just...be, can't they?

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

Jacob still doesn't raise his head. The physical symptoms are still there, but at least he's able to breathe through the panic.

So all he can say is a pathetic little: "I'm sorry."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"You have nothing to apologise for."

Aylin slides down off the edge of the bed and sidles up towards Jacob, only to meow a gentle protest when Astarion scoops her into his arms instead.

"Do you - want to talk?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He doesn't, really, but he knows he should. He knows it will be easier. He wants to reach out for him, but he settles on raising his head to pet Aylin in his arms instead.

"We had sirens in Iraq - in the war," he explains. "Usually meant we were getting attacked or ambushed. Usually meant we were facing death. I just - I was there for a second, you know?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I understand."

He has his own triggers, jumbled as they are. As ominous as the sound of chains, or as mundane as a particular tone of creaking hinge. It can take so little to put him back in any one of a dozen places he would sooner die than return to.

"Do you want me closer or further away?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

While the alarms were going off, he wanted Astarion as far away as possible. With him now, he wants him close. "Will you come closer?" he asks, remembering how quickly he had pulled his hand away last time Jacob tried to touch him.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Of course."

He sets Aylin down close by and slides in next to him, making it very clear that he's reaching for his hand before he takes it.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

As soon as he takes his hand, Jacob grabs on tightly, letting Astarion's grip ground him to this moment here. He feels thirty years younger, listening to his parents argue and fight in the next room. He feels ridiculous, but he can't stop himself from leaning on his shoulder.

"I've had the nightmares before, but it's been a long time since - that."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion puts his other arm around him. It's not comfortable still, the squirming in his gut is still there, but it's hardly as if that sensation is a novelty.

"You were trained to react to all this in a certain way," he murmurs. "It's no surprise that you did."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"I know," he breathes, and he doesn't move, simply basking in this moment as his whole chest aches from the ordeal.

"Fuck. I'm- glad you're here." Astarion told him about the boat once. He - knows what to do, but it was better having a lifeline.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I'm glad you're here," Astarion murmurs, and kisses his temple. "I don't care to imagine you waking up to this alone."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

There were lots of reasons why Jacob lived alone. Why he was always alone. Why he preferred to live his life alone.

This is one of them. The shame and vulnerability that comes with being this fucking broken all the time is - overwhelming. He doesn't even know how Astarion can be touching him now, let alone giving him any sort of affection.

He's afraid of waking up to it alone. He's afraid of what it would mean to lose himself again, like he did so many times at home. He breathes in and there's a hint of a shudder in the sound. "No. It's better with you."

[deuceoftears]

"Thanks for giving me an excuse to come," Jedao replies, as a swell of water nearby crashes over the edge and connects to a tide pool; a little hand-sized octopus, turquoise and translucent, heaves itself over the lip of rock and then pulls itself leisurely around the tide pool, tentacles wrapping around iridescent barnacles and slowly prying them open.

"There might be spots with more breeze, if you want to take the boat out. Although, neither of us need to breathe. We could just walk on the seabed, I suppose."

Although perhaps not in those pants. And it would not solve the humidity problem.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion stares at the tentacles for a moment, grimacing, then tears his gaze away.

"I'd much prefer the boat, darling, if it's all the same."

He's already making his way over to step aboard.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Good."

Astarion can hear his heartbeat slowly decelerating, but the hitch in his breathing registers, too. His own discomfort pales into unimportance.

"What would you like to do now?"

Keep sitting here for a while, or return to bed, or something else entirely - that he has the choice feels more important than what he chooses.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"This is - this is fine for now, I think."

He still grips his hand, still uses him for support, but each moment grows more and more distant.

"Are - you alright?" he mutters, remembering bit by bit how tense the air had been since the breach.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"I'm fine," he murmurs, a soothing lie, but it feels...different? It's not the kind of lie where he's swallowing bile to keep himself safe from the other party's displeasure. It's just...Jacob needs him right now. One of them needs to be fully functional, and right now, it can only be Astarion. "We can stay here."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

Jacob's grateful for it and he stays there a few moments longer before he feels that he might be able to move.

He gives Astarion's hand one last squeeze and then sits up.

"What happened to the alarms?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, I destroyed them," he says mildly. "I suppose they could be repaired. I could ask my warden about making my cabin soundproof?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"You'd do that for me?"

The idea that someone would go out of their way for him, for Astarion to ask his warden for this, is overwhelming.

He sits there, a little lost, before he just pulls him into a thankful embrace.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion briefly startles, but returns the hug quickly, holding on tight. One hand reaches up to cradle the back of his head.

"I don't like loud noises either," he chuckles softly. "But yes. I can do that for both of us."