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Post by oliver rhys cardinal on Apr 16, 2013 21:26:01 GMT -7
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OH, TAKE ME BACK TO THE START
This was not what Oliver expected. When he had awoken this morning, when he had pulled on a suit and forced himself to keep it together until the actual service started, when he had felt as if some angel of death had torn his heart to pieces--when all these things had been happening, he had never imagined it would end up like this, with Caleb’s arms holding all the pieces together. He didn’t know how it had come full circle after all this time, after they should have stopped wanting it to. They had effectively broken each others’ hearts, and there should have been no way back from that. But there was, perhaps, as could be seen in the way they still fit together perfectly, the way Oliver couldn’t help relaxing slightly into him. Caleb’s fingers trailed through his hair the way they always had when Oliver was upset, and how was that not supposed to be comforting, how could he not fall into it? That was his weakness, and Caleb knew it because more than anything else they had once known each other completely, and Oliver knew that Caleb could have exploited that but that wasn’t how it was. There was just some way to tell, even in the state he was in, that the gesture was genuine, that his once-love was truly trying to help him, not to abuse his knowledge and win him back, if there was any way that Caleb could possibly want that. The sentiment was real, and somehow, somehow Oliver knew that. The scent of his ex, that intoxicating, beautiful smell that had assaulted him upon entering the house, it was so much more concentrated straight from the source, and it was dizzying and impossible for Oliver to resist. Maybe he shouldn’t have found so much comfort in breathing him in, but perhaps it was the cure he craved. The man had a way of fixing everything. Loneliness dissipated when they were together. Caleb was the end to all bad moods, and it would be a lie to say that it didn’t help this time.
It reminded him of any time Caleb came home from work or from a business trip, the way they would cuddle, the way they would always reunite, because they needed to be together again. They had to make up for the distance, and the closeness--emotional and physical--made everything whole again. Would it be wrong to have that now, when all Oliver wanted was to feel whole? In the end, he couldn’t help it. His body and mind needed relief, so he let it happen, feeling his body relaxing fully, without a thought about it. And he knew Caleb would feel that, but what did that matter? Let him know the effect he still had. It didn’t matter, it wouldn’t change anything. This, whatever this was, was temporary, it was only happening because Caleb was too good a person to let him be in this state by himself. Once they both calmed down, had some sleep, got their thoughts back in order, they’d remember why they had done what they had, and they’d part ways again. For now that didn’t bother him, because right now wasn’t about them.
When they were children, Penelope had always gotten on with Oliver best of anyone. When she was throwing a fit, as she often did, being the temperamental child that she was, he was the one who could calm her down. If she ever had a bad day, she only wanted to tell her big brother about it. In a lot of ways, it seemed that Oliver was her best friend, her one confidant, and he was so happy to be there for her. He could remember when she was born, even though he’d been quite young. Waiting out the months of his mother’s pregnancy had been infinite for someone as eager to be a brother as he had been, and to finally be able to sit in a chair at the hospital and hold the tiny pinkish bundle, he remembered how that had been the perfect ending for something he had looked forward to for months. How could he ever have imagined that day, legs swinging a foot off the ground, staring down at the tufts of wispy brown hair and eyes so similar to his own, that he would have to sit through the service in her memory less than two decades later? The unthinkable had happened. The baby blossomed into a teenager, and that graceful girl made bad choices and met bad people and that became her end. He shouldn’t have had to live through this. Penny should have lived a long, happy life, or Oliver should have died of cancer. The older brother should never have had to attend the funeral of the younger sister. It was wrong, against nature. There was something wrong with the world, some imbalance in the universe. Things like this shouldn’t happen. The innocent shouldn’t die young.
He’d had nightmares the past nights, images filling his head of what Penelope might have looked like when she was found, or the way she had been treated before she died, and each was more horrific than the last. Part of Oliver was glad that he would never know what exactly happened, because then he couldn’t fully be hit with the pain, and if he didn’t know, the uncertainty would allow him to be as optimistic as he could be on a given day. Of course, he didn’t feel optimistic now; a member of his family had died, and naturally he believed that she had suffered for ages. Perhaps, though, one day he could believe she hadn’t felt it for too long. That seemed more achievable tonight, with the strong smell of Caleb clogging his senses and muddling up his mind. It was hard, staying awake, when his entire being just felt so exhausted. He hadn’t been sleeping well, and his day had been so riddled with emotion that he felt himself falling into a more relaxed state simply out of exhaustion. Were he more awake, maybe he would have thought harder before letting himself start to fall asleep against Caleb’s chest. It couldn’t be helped; Caleb felt safe and familiar and warm, everything that Oliver needed, and, as tired as he was, it took only long enough for his crying to be controlled so he could breathe properly before it was slowing further, his mind fading to black, his body encased in Caleb’s arms. Some things were wrong that night, yes, perhaps a majority. But there was also right done, and it would simply take time to discover what it was and how it would affect them.
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Post by caleb jay ierie on Apr 22, 2013 18:39:47 GMT -7
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2] & BUT WHEN I CAME BACK IT WAS MORE OF A RELAPSE` THEY SAID 'IF YOU DON'T LET IT OUT YOU'RE GONNA LET IT EAT YOU AWAY I'D RATHER BE A CANNIBAL BABY ANIMALS LIKE ME DON'T TALK ANYWAY FEEL LIKE AN AMBULANCE, CHASER OF - - - - - - - - - - - faith | [atrb=width,240] When Caleb was younger, he couldn't ever remember wanting a sibling. He'd lived out his childhood alone, and most kids don't want another kid around to drag away their parents love and affection. Caleb wasn't the type that would have been an jealous older brother. He could remember once, after seeing a girl and a boy playing at the park, the boy much younger than the girl, asking his mother why they were playing together. He wasn't even aware of the concept of siblings at the time, and so his mother had told him. Caleb had then asked sweetly if he would ever have a sibling, and his mother had told him in the gentlest way possible that was probably not going to happen. Caleb wasn't sad, he didn't really understand, but he wasn't sad. He was happy with how life was, as many of the children were. His mother and father had had trouble conceiving Caleb, but the little bundle of joy had come along. After his birth though, the doctor had told him mother that it would not be healthy for her to have another child, just because of how her body was. Caleb was quiet as a kid, not shy, just never talked to many other children. He had a few friends, mostly girls, and his mother did worry that perhaps if he had a sibling, he would open up more, or that he wished that he had. Whenever she would ask though, Caleb would only say “But we're happy as we are Momma” and that would be that. As Caleb grew older, he became accustomed to the idea that he would be an only child, and always would be. His days in the home were wholly spent alone, or cuddling on the couch with his mother when she was around. He would often go out and play as well, but maybe not as much as he would have if he had a younger sibling. Caleb never experienced the way a younger sibling could chase you out of the house, if only for a little time by yourself. Not having some one around to pester him, to fill his life with sprinkles of anguish and happiness, it molded him. Caleb liked to play alone, and that was never a bad thing.
When he was a teenager, he might have wished for a sibling, if only because he saw the relationship between other siblings. He never had someone he could tease quiet like that, or understood every breathing second of his life as well as siblings did. Yet, he still was fine with it. As an only child, Caleb couldn't understand a lot of the things that siblings did, like the unconditional love despite the way they would fight like cats, but it made no difference to him. He had his best friend, and really that was all he needed. He was envious of Olivers relationship with his sister, yes, but only because he wished he could have experienced something like that. But, he wouldn't change his life for that opportunity. Things turned out just fine for him, and he had his own stories to tell. When you are young and alone, imagination becomes your next best friend. Now, Caleb only wished he'd had a sibling so he could sympathize with Oliver, know the words that would make him feel better. However, he didn't need a sibling in order to understand how to make Oliver feel better. Compassion was not always about having experienced the same thing in order to know how to react to it, half the time people reacted to things very differently as it is. Compassion was about knowing a person like Caleb knew Oliver, knew the way he looked when he needed a hug. Knew the way his body felt like when it was in pain, knew how to erase that pain away with a simple touch. It was that knowledge that drove Caleb, and he knew he didn't need to say anything. He just help Oliver as he sobbed, feeling his body relax into Caleb's like he knew it would. There was nothing that could be said here, and sometimes words were just too much, so Caleb continued to stroke Olivers hair. He thought about all the things Oliver had told him, the history of him and Penny, and thought about suddenly losing all of that. Not being able to make any more memories, and he felt like he could understand just a little bit. And that was all they needed, because they knew each other well enough that there was no more.
It was such a balm to feel Oliver relaxing against him finally, his snuffled tears growing less as less. That was all Caleb hoped to achieve, and he knew that Oliver had likely not relaxed in a long while. He knew it was the comfort of a hug that would allow this to happen, but also the fact that it was Caleb. It didn't matter if Oliver hated him, it didn't matter what happened between them. Caleb had once been the man who could always make Oliver feel better, who was always there for him. Caleb believed, something like that never went away, so the comfort was still there. Caleb relaxed back, pulling Oliver with him, so they were collapsed on the couch, Olivers head still in his arms. He knew that Oliver hadn't been sleeping, he knew how much he would need it. The next few days would be a living hell, and Caleb doubted Oliver would get much sleep at all. He felt exhausted himself, but that was from mere emotional strain. Oliver was warm against him, if not thin, but Caleb could feel him breathing. That was what he missed these past six months, being able to know that Oliver was still breathing. Caleb couldn't recount how many times he'd worry that something had happened to Ollie, the cancer had gotten to him, and that last time he would see Oliver would be the day Oliver had thrown the picture album at him. He still carried the picture around, even to the funeral. He didn't know what it meant, he didn't want to know. Olivers scent curled around him, something that once was, and really, Caleb didn't want to think about that either. He only listened as Olivers breathing became soft and low, his body slipping into a slumber. He didn't really realize when the tears started slipping down his own face, not making a sound, but he was crying. He didn't even move, though, only held Oliver a little closer, closing his eyes, for once not feeling the pain of the last six months. ----------
There was no way to count how many mornings Caleb had woken up with Oliver in his arms. Turning his head, his mind still somewhere between dream and reality, opening his eyes and seeing the face of his love. Reaching out an arm to click of the alarm clock before it woke the slumbering man in his arms. Waking up before the alarm, kissing, cuddling, giggling in the hours of the dawn. Mornings stretched forever, and no matter what, whenever Caleb left the bed, Oliver would wake up. As if sensing the sudden loss of something very important, Oliver would wake up. Sometimes he'd surprise Caleb in their washroom, slipping a pair of hands around his waist while he brushed his teeth, or was in the shower. Sometimes Caleb would walk back into the bedroom to see Oliver sleepily smiling at him, and have himself coerced into kisses. Caleb got into the habit of waking up earlier, so that he would have time to kiss Oliver, but that time always over ran itself and Caleb couldn't exactly keep waking up earlier and earlier. On the mornings when they had time, sometimes those kisses would turn into love making, and sometimes they would talk, their voices quiet like there was something to disturb. Nothing much to disturb but their little fairy tale mornings, the house of glass they seemed to build around them. Waking up this morning, Caleb was aware of a few things. He could feel the shape of the couch beneath him, familiar from the times had cuddled with Oliver, and the once he had forced himself to sleep on here because of pure fear and confusion. Something warm, wholesome and daringly good was curled in his arms. Caleb had his nose pressed down into shower soft hair, breathing in the smell of his own shampoo, but something else a lot more unique and personal. He didn't have time to be surprised, he didn't have time to have his heart broken. It already was. He only had to simply open his eyes, and his memory gave him the rest of the details. There would be no Oliver waking up, turning his face up to Caleb, kissing his lips despite the morning breath neither of them cared about. There would be no cuddles, no sex, no nothing. Caleb had fallen asleep without realizing, but he wasn't sure if he had thought about it, he would have left. He had no regrets that he'd stayed. He only knew that he was not welcome to stay any longer, and tried not to make that hurt. He only considered the best way to get off the couch without Oliver waking up. The man appeared to still be slumbering against his chest, and Caleb knew the way his features would drop once he woke up. Without the cover of darkness, waking up with Caleb pressed against him wouldn't be exactly what Oliver was looking for. Cuddling was no longer acceptable. Thus started a very slow progression of Caleb moving his limbs, extracting himself away from Oliver. It hurt, it really did, but he managed to sit himself up on the couch, and eventually stand, spacing himself from Oliver. It was a miracle that Oliver hadn't woken up, or maybe just s a testament to how their bodies had separated over the past six months. Caleb made himself walk away, brushing his hair back with a hand, thinking about making coffee or tea. He only ended up in the kitchen, though, staring at the coat he had lent Oliver the past night. | [atrb=width,140] words ,
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Post by oliver rhys cardinal on Apr 24, 2013 17:30:34 GMT -7
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OH, TAKE ME BACK TO THE START
If he stays with me until I get up, things are going to be okay. If he stays he still loves me and maybe he can be okay with me still being in love with him and things will be okay.
Oliver couldn’t remember falling asleep on top of Caleb, but since waking up he was recalling pieces of their last moments before he had gone under, caving in to the tiredness that had fought him down and finally won him over. He could remember leaning against him, holding on as though his grip on Caleb’s shirt was the only thing anchoring him to the world. He remembered talking about Penny and feeling awkward being the house, and how he’d been crying without visible end until Caleb came back into the room and made him better. There was still so much to mourn, so much sorrow to be feeling, but the presence of the man Oliver had loved so, well, that helped. Really, it was a surprise he’d even slept, but considering the effect Caleb had always had on him, Oliver should have expected it. The man made everything in his life better, and after going through all the cancer treatments without him, with the death of his sister on top of all the emotional complications of dying and being heartbroken, Caleb had been there and Oliver was more than willing to exploit that for the sake of a night’s sleep. He hadn’t slept well in months, what with the nightmares he’d been having, and the knowledge that they would continue indefinitely, he was getting desperate. Like some kind of drug he kept relapsing on, Oliver needed Caleb to function properly. He felt starved without him, empty and suffocating and in need of a fix, and so when Oliver had woken up the next morning, feeling rested for once, safe and warm cuddling into his ex-boyfriend’s chest, he felt--not happy, but more content than he had before. Like some of the pieces had been returned to the cavern of his soul, and he was just a bit less hollow.
Waking up like that, with the contact being the first thing he recognized, it reminded Oliver so much of the past. This used to be a regular thing. Not on the couch, of course, but in their warm bed, cuddled in amongst pillows and sheets and blankets but most of all wrapped around each other, intertwined until they couldn’t possibly get any closer. Oliver loved that so much; he loved being close to people in general, because he felt safe when someone else’s skin was against his, like a sign of their willingness to stay with him and their own desire for closeness. When it was Caleb, though, that was another thing entirely. The search for closeness was so much more intense, because Oliver always felt safer with him, he felt that the feeling was more mutual, and it was fueled by this overwhelming love and passion. That was what made it so rejuvenating, he supposed: being with another person, and being so consumed by one another, that’s when one could really feel alive. And he had felt alive, back when he could let go of any dream he had and be just as happy with his reality, because that certain someone was beside him, his arms coiled around him or draped over him or between their bodies so their hands could attach. That was living, and he could almost get a glimpse of that as he woke up, Caleb presumably still sleeping underneath his chest. For a moment, he let it be just that, Oliver awake and Caleb sleeping, as though they’d be in this peaceful sort of limbo forever. It was a good representation for how he felt now, though; Caleb was so close to him, but so unreachable, like they were on entirely different planes. He didn’t want to move, for fear of waking him, shattering the fragile balance that they had maintained between them during the night. So he stayed where he was, perfectly still, holding onto the idea that they could be close again without breaking each other, no matter how unlikely the idea might have been.
From there, it seemed almost as though his thoughts had been too loud, waking Caleb up despite his honest effort to not disturb him. Before, it had sometimes seemed as though they could read each others’ minds, simply from knowing each other so well. Perhaps Oliver had simply remembered the exact minute Caleb typically woke up, and had anticipated it in order to prepare himself for what would come after this. Or maybe, though it seemed unlikely, Caleb knew that Oliver was thinking about him, and that brought him out of his dream and back to this confusing life they were leading. Once, Oliver had had more faith in this connection of their minds than the idea of them ever being how they were: broken, alone, hurting each other and blaming themselves. It had always seemed more likely that they’d somehow connected more than was ever normal, than for them to be separated like this. Yet here they were. It was somehow natural to realize when Caleb was awake versus asleep, though he couldn’t say exactly how he knew, since his own eyes were still shut. Maybe it was the way his breathing changed, or the tiny movements of muscles warming up, getting ready for the movement of the day. Oliver didn’t know, but in those first moments of Caleb’s consciousness, he tried to appear still asleep, issuing a silent challenge. If he stays, we can fix things.
It was about then when he felt Caleb shifting underneath him, and, despite all the disappointment rushing over him, he forced himself to stay limp, expressionless, somehow managing to pass as asleep in the eyes of the one who should know better. It took all of Oliver’s energy to keep the tears back, because his wish had been wasted. It had been foolish of him to want it anyway. How many times had he told himself that they were irreparable, tried to keep his hopes down where they should be to avoid disappointment? How had he thrown that all away just because Caleb was tired enough to fall asleep without going to bed? Oliver didn’t know why Caleb had stayed. Maybe he couldn’t leave, because of the grip he had on his shirt. Maybe he had just tried to be polite and not wake him up accidentally by moving him off. It didn’t matter, the point was that Caleb likely hadn’t wanted to, and that was why he left once he was awake to realize what had happened. Caleb disappeared into the kitchen, doing who knows what, but it didn’t matter because whatever he was doing, it was just proof that they weren’t fine. There were more important things to do than stay with Oliver, and so he had. That was all. He shouldn’t have been so disappointed. This was expected, normal, and probably better for them in the long run.
Giving it a few minutes, trying to dispel the tears that had spilled out despite himself, Oliver eventually sat up, running a hand over his face and through his hair, feeling sleepy and weak and empty but significantly less so than before. Regardless of what Caleb was choosing for them now, he had granted Oliver that one night, and that was what he needed, at least to start. The healing process would have to be taken in small steps, and Caleb had started it. Maybe now things could start to get better, with or without him. Hopefully. Oliver was tired of feeling like this.
Slowly, he stood up, walking quietly towards the kitchen, with one hand draped across his stomach holding on to the other arm, which hung down beside him. After a few seconds standing in the doorway, watching Caleb because he could, because he didn’t know the next time he’d have the privilege, he sighed quietly, trying to make himself known before speaking.
Talking hadn’t been part of the plan, exactly, save for maybe some mumblings of ‘good morning’ or some other formality. In that moment, though, he was tired of the assumptions, the misunderstandings, the lack of communication. They might never have gotten to where they were if they had simply talked more often, rather than pushing their problems away for another day. That was Oliver’s fault, and he accepted that. Caleb had tried countless times to make things better, and by putting it off, Oliver had effectively ruined them. He knew talking now wouldn’t make things better, but maybe for once in six months he could understand what had happened, where they had really gone wrong, and what they could have done to still be happy. It would keep him stumbling through ‘what ifs’ for the rest of his life, he was sure, but it would be better than all the ‘whys’. If he could hear it from the man himself, then Oliver could accept the fate that had fallen upon them. He just wanted Caleb’s side, wanted to understand what still stood between them, and maybe then he could figure out how to let go.
Running his hand up and down his arm, trying to rub some heat over the skin now that he suddenly felt inexplicably cold, he tried to find some words. “...Callie? Can we talk?”
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Post by caleb jay ierie on Apr 24, 2013 20:17:56 GMT -7
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2] & BUT WHEN I CAME BACK IT WAS MORE OF A RELAPSE` THEY SAID 'IF YOU DON'T LET IT OUT YOU'RE GONNA LET IT EAT YOU AWAY I'D RATHER BE A CANNIBAL BABY ANIMALS LIKE ME DON'T TALK ANYWAY FEEL LIKE AN AMBULANCE, CHASER OF - - - - - - - - - - - faith | [atrb=width,240] During the time where Caleb had been with Oliver, they had had a million conversations, a million and one. There was no start, nor end. The words just continued, peppered with “hello”s, “goodbye”s and many “I love you”s. It was an endless conversation that didn't even need words. When Oliver had left, Caleb had thought he would have taken those words with him and he'd be left with silence. Yet, a few days after Oliver had left, Caleb found himself trying to construct a way to get him back. The words would build up in his head, and he'd knock them back down to build even better one. Sometimes, Oliver would respond, sometimes he wouldn't. It was always different. From there, Caleb would spawn arguments with Oliver, talks where he would get his love back, talks where Oliver would beat him both emotionally and physically, if only to make the self loathing Caleb felt a little bit harsher. That turned into normal conversations, remembering things once said though Caleb could often not remember the time nor context in which they were said. That was not what mattered, the words were still there. Caleb would construct new, simple conversations to have with Oliver. He knew his boyfriend so well he could often form realistic responses, but sometimes it felt like a fairytale. Real Oliver was always much better than his expectations, and much more harsh at times. That was what Caleb loved though, and Olivers quick wit at points. Caleb would often find himself speaking aloud when he was alone, and actually turned around as if he expected Oliver to be there to respond. Yet, he never was.
After all that time, all those words had built up. He'd vented to Jon, but that was six months ago. Six months was a long time for more words to build up, fold themselves into the creases of Calebs brain. As he woke up that morning, cradling Oliver in his arms, they had wobbled around rather cautiously. He knew they were at a danger of spilling out in one form or another. He was so used to telling Oliver everything, and nothing all at once. Caleb hid nothing from his boyfriend, but there was a difference between hiding things and not discussing their problems. Those were stored up in Calebs mind as well, but he didn't know if he would ever get a chance to say those words. Before Oliver had come along, Caleb was certain these things would die with him, but now that he was back, they were itching to get out, the stuffing pushing at his seams. However, he would not be able to say a word without Olivers express permission. He was certain that Ollie did not wish to hear anything that Caleb had to say to him, besides what Caleb had already said. That was why he had moved, he had ran. He could barely stand to be in the same room as Oliver without exploding eventually. After a night like they had, his mind was confused. 'Why did you leave him? You could have stayed, kissed him good morning, comforted him more. You know he'll cry again when he wakes up' his mind shoved the logic at him and Caleb only closed his eyes. He longed for something to clean in the bare kitchen, but there was nothing. He kept the house spotless as a matter of trying to chase his thoughts away. It never helped. He considered cooking, but his stomach told him it would be stubbornly not hungry today. So he was faced with very little options. He was not aware of how much time had spawned since he had been in the kitchen and away from Oliver. Anytime away from Oliver was a second too long.
There was no way Caleb couldn't hear the small exhalation of breath that came from the doorway. Even before then, he knew Oliver stood there, the way he would look wearing his pyjamas, how his hair would be mussed up from sleep, how tired his eyes would be despite the rest. He knew had it been six months ago, he would have turned before Oliver even showed in the doorway to the kitchen, and met him in the archway with soft words and even softer lips. Now he only felt his back prickle, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Calebs hands had started to shake again, and he could feel the tears building back up behind his eyes. If he turned around, everything would be shattered, everything would be broken. So he stood still, hearing the soft brush of Olivers hand against his own arm, thinking about how that skin felt. It was only when Caleb heard his beloved nick name slipping from Olivers mouth that he turned, and even then without hesitation. Just the barest of seconds needed to steal himself. Looking up to Oliver, seeing exactly what he expected and yet it took his breath away anyway, and then looking to the left of him just as quick. Without realizing it, Caleb mirrored Olivers stance, wrapping one arm tightly around his body, and lifting the other to pick at his nails. A faint, fake smile greeted his lips, and he looked in Olivers general direction without meeting his eyes.
“Of course we can talk Oliver, you don't have to ask. We can talk about Penny all you want,” because what else would Oliver want to talk about? It only made sense, and perhaps Oliver had woken up last night, stewed up more memories, wanted a little more comfort before he went home to his parents. Or maybe he would stay, and this deadly cycle would repeat over and over. That, Caleb thought, would be better than the past six months had ever been. | [atrb=width,140] words ,
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Post by oliver rhys cardinal on Apr 27, 2013 22:37:18 GMT -7
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OH, TAKE ME BACK TO THE START
Oliver had never known time to move as slowly as it had during the past six months. To be dying at 22, that was scary enough, and to be alone was even worse. The worst, though, was knowing he had to fight back when he didn’t want to fight. He was exhausted, because the activity of Having Cancer was exhausting, and there was constant talk of radiation and tumors and pain medication, and after six months of it, that seemed like all life was. He was constantly asking himself what it was all for, anyways. The will to live had been lost from him ages ago, maybe even as long ago as when it became apparent that Caleb was not going to call him, that Caleb had no interest in his health or his broken heart or the slow process of shrinking the tumor in his brain. Even after the cancer was gone, the spark didn’t come back, and Oliver was a ghost of his former self. Less than a year ago, Oliver had been so animated, so excited by life and eager to live it to its fullest. And then Caleb disappeared from it, and he took with him that spirit and enthusiasm, leaving him only with the disease that sought to steal what little he had left to take. And Oliver wondered why it mattered if it did take him, because he didn’t have a future anyway. He wouldn’t love again, and so in the end he would still be alone. Whether the cancer killed him or something else did was irrelevant. So he only had to wonder why it had to take so long, why he couldn’t just be released from it all when the disease finally got him. His treatments worked, and only part of him could be relieved. Because if the tumor was shrinking, it lessened his chances of an easy death, something to stop the future suffering and loneliness. Life without a purpose was hardly life at all, and he didn’t want to be faced with that. It almost made him angry, had he the the energy to be angry, that he had ever let himself get so attached to another person that the loss of them ruined his life, but mostly he was too overwhelmed by grief to be angry. He mourned his health, his happiness, and now his sister, and he didn’t have the capacity to be angry at himself for being wholly dependent on Caleb on top of that. As time went by, he slowly realized that he wasn’t angry at all; he was upset about many things, but not angry. Not at Caleb for kicking him out, not at himself for doing what he had, not even at the cancer. Anger was too much to hold onto, and his grip was too weak. It had fallen away over the months, and now he simply felt empty and raw, regretting his mistakes and his losses and wishing he could take it all back or start it all over. And now here was Caleb, standing in the kitchen, and here Oliver was, a few feet away from him. In their house, after a night spent in each others’ arms, after hours of talking about his sister, after Caleb had come to the funeral and invited Oliver back home. The events of the previous day had to mean something, had to be some sort of sign. Even Oliver, hopeless, soulless Oliver, couldn't help seeing something in that, a tiny flicker of optimism stirring inside him. Still, he felt small and fragile and certainly not brave enough to do much of anything about it. He could do nothing dramatic or rash, and, even if he had had any idea of something to do, he would never be able to perform some amazing, immediate fix for the two of them. The man was too powerless at the moment, too overwhelmed by everything that had happened since the two of them had last seen each other, and so he could only make small steps.
Though he had entered the doorway with a certain conviction--or at least, something close to conviction--of something or another, be it making tea or getting breakfast or talking to Caleb, Oliver still found himself easily distracted by the sight of him. Oliver knew his boyfriend--ex-boyfriend--'s form so well: the way he stood, the way he held his arms, the angle at which he kept his head. His mind drifted further, to the smoothness of his skin, the smell of his hair, the light in his eyes. Caleb standing there in the kitchen reminded him of those rushed breakfasts, stealing kisses and grabbing bagels or fruit as Caleb hurried out the door so as to not be late for work despite the extra time they had spent in bed that morning, ignoring the alarms that tried to rouse them, or the dinners that were started and paused because they got each other all worked up and some things were more important than half-prepared meals. It was wrong to think of these things, he was sure that had to be true. Whatever had happened between them was irrelevant now, something old that should be locked up and forgotten about. This was Caleb’s house now, and Caleb was no longer his and it was rude to...take what wasn't his, he supposed. That had been part of the reason that Oliver had tried to get Caleb’s attention: to stop himself from taking that time to miss how things had once been. That wasn't helping anyone.
How could the sight of him still hurt the way it did? The way Caleb looked at him, even if it wasn't out of the same love as it had once been, still made him feel weak and dizzy, still made his heart beat faster and out of time. He feared eye contact, yet felt almost rejected when Caleb denied it. However, it was was worse when Caleb didn't understand what he meant, when he thought Oliver only wanted to talk more about his late sister. Though he’d be mourning Penelope forever, this wasn't about that, his sadness this morning not revolved around the death of a family member. Last night had been for her, the past week had been for her, and now he had to start moving on. Or at least, he was allowed to try to move on, he was allowed to put his intense missing on hold while he tried to figure things out on in this part of his heartbreak. He wished that that had been obvious in what he said. It would be difficult, he thought, trying to explain himself. This was mostly his fault, since he had never wanted to talk about what was wrong between them before. How could Caleb expect any different now, after six entire months of avoidance? Their entire relationship, Oliver had preferred any other subject, thinking that if they could push their problems far enough out of mind, they would disappear, forgotten and irrelevant. Clearly, that hadn’t worked, and after hurting over it for so long, it was time that he finally confronted them.
But first, he had to start the conversation. He almost winced when Caleb had turned the conversation from just talking to talking about Penny, because he had to correct him, and with their relationship as fragile as it was at the moment, he didn’t want to say anything that could turn him away. “No, I mean...Can we--I think we should--I wanna talk about us,”
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[/color] he said, pulling at his hair with one hand. The words were hard to find, he felt like he was grabbing at smoke. Once he had finally managed, he felt stupid for struggling and stupider for asking when he knew he should just go change back into his clothes and leave Caleb alone. “I mean. If you’re willing to. I just. I’m tired of...not understanding.”[/color] Perhaps his biggest fear was overspeaking, saying too much or saying the wrong thing and scaring Caleb off. Oliver acknowledged that Caleb was well within his right to shut him down and send him out, and that was what he was afraid of. If he was the only one that wanted to fix them, then they wouldn’t be fixed. He knew this had to be mutual, and the worst thing that he could imagine was that it wouldn’t be. Though he was certain that he had seen some sort of hurt in Caleb last night, and perhaps even some sort of affection, he didn’t know how deeply that ran, or if it was strong enough to forgive everything that Oliver had done. And the moments it would take for Caleb to respond would seem longer than the six months that he had lived without him, because all Oliver could do was wait out his fate. Either Caleb would agree or he would not, and that made him so nervous that all he could do was stand and watch him, biting his lip and trying to avoid looking desperate. [/div] Words: 1526 Notes: aughhh
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Post by caleb jay ierie on Apr 28, 2013 19:07:02 GMT -7
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2] & BUT WHEN I CAME BACK IT WAS MORE OF A RELAPSE` THEY SAID 'IF YOU DON'T LET IT OUT YOU'RE GONNA LET IT EAT YOU AWAY I'D RATHER BE A CANNIBAL BABY ANIMALS LIKE ME DON'T TALK ANYWAY FEEL LIKE AN AMBULANCE, CHASER OF - - - - - - - - - - - faith | [atrb=width,240] The silence between when Oliver spoke and when Caleb answered was a long one, laden with tension. Caleb avoided his gaze just as much as he wanted to meet it. Caleb felt like Oliver wouldn't have looked up at the right time, though. Their bodies were no longer in sync. He hadn't even understood what Oliver had meant. How was he supposed to, though? What part of him was required to hold that knowledge anymore? He'd hoped to talk about them, yes, but he knew – or thought – Olivers mind had been on Penny. A petty break up couldn't break into that storm. Now that Caleb thought about it, he didn't know if he wanted to talk about them. It had been so long, and he just felt tired. Tired of being hurt, tired of being sad. This sort of talk sounded like the one that would fall short of emotions. They could discuss the end of their relationship with ease, and go their separate ways. Caleb was stuck between not feeling anything at all and feeling everything at once. He honestly felt hurt. Now Oliver wanted to talk? Now, after all of this time, he sought out the words Caleb had held hostage. It hadn't only been the six months. It had been the years before, when the abuse started.
That had partially been Caleb's fault though, and he knew that. He was no good with words, not when it came to Oliver. When he was in a relationship, he wanted so badly for things to go right. He needed his fairy tale, he needed to please the other, it was hardwired into his being. Instead of facing conflict, he simply chose to ignore it. He'd tried, he had, but Oliver had blown him off. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, he let Oliver go. Caleb let his love control his mind, and that got them here. They were both at fault. Caleb was tired of waiting for Oliver to say it was okay to talk though. His own heart was on the line here, and he put it there far too often. Caleb had a bad habit of putting others before himself. He had wanted to talk to Oliver, for two years he had wanted to talk to Oliver, but had put it off. Honestly, he was just scared of conflict. And now here it was. Yet, he was still scared of Oliver. Scared of angering him, hurting him, making Oliver hurt him; even in the weakened state he was in. Also, however, Caleb was frightened of hurting himself. He was well aware that talking to Oliver would bring up more pain than these six months combined. Caleb didn't know what he could say, what he was supposed to say. Caleb loved Oliver, loved him so much it tore at his heart. Yet, he was suddenly unsure if he wanted Oliver back.
They were tiptoeing around the broken glass, and Caleb wanted to shatter more. He was hurt, and he was angry, and he was tired of waiting. Had Oliver and him ever been so good together? Once, he had thought so. They had felt like soul mates, they had completed each other. Oliver had taken out his drugged up anger on Caleb, and Caleb had accepted. Oliver was far too clingy, and needy, and maybe a little bit controlling, and Caleb had let him. He'd thought he'd deserved it. Without thinking, Caleb had thrown his dream job out the window, settling in Caroline. That was for Oliver, he knew that. Otherwise, he would have left, but he was so obsessed. All Caleb had ever wanted was Oliver, and finally he got himself out of that trap. His Prince Charming had turned out to not be so Charming in the first place. That was life, though. All Caleb knew was he loved Oliver. He'd give him a chance, he'd keep giving him a chance until that love had a reason to dry up. It didn't matter, the abuse, the clingyness, the anger, the loss. None of that would matter until his heart could accept that, and they needed to talk and set things straight to fix that. Caleb would not try to get Oliver back, Oliver deserved better than that, Caleb deserved better than that. But, they would talk, and just see where that landed them.
“Yeah, I'm willing to talk,” it was like a bag of broken bones leaving his mouth. What else was he supposed to say? Not understanding? Whats so hard to understand, you beating me, me leaving you or the fact that I still love you? Even if he were to be confident enough to speak his mind, he couldn't have said those words. He couldn't hurt Oliver more. He was still allowed to care. The past night had been so confusing. Oliver had accepted Caleb’s touch, he had accepted his care, his plea to come him, his attempt at talking. It had to mean something. Just as tired as Caleb was of hurting, he was tired of hoping. Something had to give. But, he couldn't get the scent of Oliver out of his mind, and that was enough to stave off his pessimism. He breathed out a sigh, picking at his nails, wishing he has a scab or something to explore. Crawl back into his own skin and try to feel comfortable for a while. He was unsure if Oliver meant to start the conversation, what he hoped to gain or discover from talking. For once though, Caleb figured it was his turn. His turn to be the emotional victim, because he was a victim here. Not the only one, but he was one. He felt tears pricking at the back of his eyes, and his hands were shaking harder. He wasn't going to ask what Oliver wanted to talk about. Or rather, the specifics. Looking up at Oliver, he waited for what seemed an indefinite time for Oliver to meet his eyes, and held it.
“I don't understand why you hurt me,” the words were said defiantly, with Calebs chin picking up a bit. A thin sliver of anger, a soft lining of the break down that was threatening. Caleb tread over the cracked ice, but his arms wound around his stomach, holding tight, trying to keep himself contained. He didn't say anything else, he didn't know what he could stay. Still waiting for Oliver, waiting for forever. He didn't know what he expected from him. Permission, again, to spill out his soul, but he didn't really know how to do that. All Caleb really wanted was a little comfort. | [atrb=width,140] words ,
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Post by oliver rhys cardinal on Apr 28, 2013 20:51:14 GMT -7
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OH, TAKE ME BACK TO THE START
For pretty much his entire life, Oliver had been talkative. He seemed to have avoided that stage of shyness as a child and instead was willing to chat with anyone about anything, no matter if he knew them well or had never seen them before. More than once, his mother had had to sit him down and give him another ‘don’t-talk-to-strangers’ lecture, but he had always been of the mindset that strangers were simply friends that one hadn’t met yet. Of course, he was careful; even as a toddler, the boy knew better than to go off with someone suspicious. There was a difference between a malicious stranger and one who was not, and he was wise enough to tell the difference. Sometimes in school, he would get into trouble for not being quiet while the teacher was trying to give a lesson, and several times he was asked what he possibly had to say after all the time he spent running his mouth. During debates, he was the quiet kids’ favorite, because he could continue the conversation moving without them having to put in any effort. Oliver’s mind moved quickly and his mouth was almost always trailing just behind. An ex boyfriend of his told him once that the only time he was ever quiet was when he was kissing or sleeping, and there was probably some truth in that. Still, his being noisy wasn’t overwhelming; it was conversation he was into, not a monopoly of words. He was naturally more than willing to listen, and once the other person was finished speaking he would formulate a thoughtful, usually long-winded, response. In almost every situation, words came simply to him, and it came as a shock to many when he had decided he wanted to pursue photography instead of a job in politics, business, or marketing. His father used to say that he could sell cars simply because the customers would pay a few thousand bucks to shut him up. But to say Oliver was annoying was perhaps a stretch, because his words had meaning. Just because they were chosen fast didn’t mean they weren’t chosen well, and that was important. Oliver didn’t talk to hear his own voice, he spoke because he had things to say, and he hoped that the people around him cared enough about him to care about what it was he had to say. That they nearly always were was proof of how blessed he was, and he appreciated that so much.
Now he stood with Caleb, feeling precisely the opposite. He was almost certain that, despite what Caleb said, Caleb was not willing to listen. Paranoia, perhaps, yes, but it could also be based upon fact. The thing was that he had no way of knowing, not until found his voice. There was not an idea in his mind of what to say, how to form a conversation out of the mutual willingness to speak. Maybe this had been their problem: that Oliver didn’t know how to talk when it really mattered. Perhaps, more than wanting to ignore their problems, he had simply been lost on how to deal with them. It was six months ago, maybe he had forgotten how he had felt before. It wasn’t as though time couldn’t distort his emotions, he knew that for certain now that he realized how entirely free of anger he felt, even though his first few months alone had been almost nothing but.
That could have been the cancer, though, it was always the cancer. Oliver couldn’t remember when he had realized that all the emotions he took out were an effect of the cancer, from the way the tumor had pressed on his brain. The doctors had told him once that he would probably start to feel less aggressive as the tumors shrunk, since some of the pressure was being relieved. As that happened, and he remembered the things he had done to Caleb, he gradually felt worse about it, believing most fervently that without the cancer he would never have done any of it. Only something like that, the deadly sickness infesting him, could ever have turned him into what he became, and for months he blamed that. His personality changed in those months as the cancer disappeared, from the angry being he had been when Caleb had thrown him out, but not back into the cheerful person he was before. He was somewhere stuck in limbo now, somewhere alone and quiet and empty, so empty. And the truth was, he wasn’t even sure what he expected to get out of this. Because now, faced with the situation, he wasn’t so entirely sure that it wasn’t him. He was scared that some part of him, not the cancer, was what had wanted the relationship to turn out the way it had, had wanted to inflict damage on the man he loved. At one time he would have denied any responsibility, because he hadn’t wanted to do it, but even still. There could have been some way to fight, and he simply hadn’t looked hard enough because it was easy to give in. Faced with the opportunity to deny it, to tell Caleb it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t do it. It felt too much like a lie, even though he knew that logically it couldn’t be.
It wasn’t only the subject matter that kept him speechless, though. The way Caleb spoke to him, the partially-disguised anger evident in his voice, that caught Oliver off guard, feeling like a brick wall to the face, and it made it that much harder to throw away responsibility. He knew that if he blamed anything but himself, Caleb would never believe that, and he didn’t want Caleb to be mad at him, even though he had every reason to be. After everything, it was amazing that Caleb had ever looked past the anger for long enough to do anything else. He should have been too angry to come to the funeral, or to talk to him, or to give him clothes and a bed and comfort when he needed those thigns. Caleb should have been too angry at Oliver for hurting him to even agree to speak to him, Caleb should have sent him away without a word. That might just have been too easy for Oliver, though, who didn’t deserve the easy way out. Better to make him squirm, right? And squirm he did, for a while, until he found words pushing down the walls he built to protect himself.
“I don’t understand either, and I know I can tell you this for a thousand years and it won’t make any difference but I never meant to, Caleb. And I’m sorry and I know I ruined my chances at apologies months and months ago but I don’t have cancer messing with my emotions anymore. It’s just me now, and I’m sorry. I was angry because there was something in my brain putting pressure on pieces that control emotion and I didn’t know how to deal with all of it and all of that anger got taken out on you--I took it out on you--and you should never have had to go through that. It was never your fault.”
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[/color] The words he was saying may have possibly shocked himself more than they could ever shock Caleb, Oliver wasn’t quite sure. He didn’t know where they came from or how he had possibly managed to fit them all together when all of his thoughts were fixed on how Caleb sounded angry, and how Caleb was never angry unless one of them was being sent from the house indefinitely. His apologies and explanations, however weak or strong, had been said without being thought about; really, he was more thinking the opposite of what he said. Perhaps that made his words more honest, or maybe that would just make Caleb more upset, like Oliver hadn’t cared enough about the things he said to put thought into them. He just couldn’t focus; he was scared, upset, lonely. There were not words he should have had to say to his dearest love, because situations like this shouldn’t come up, not for lovers like they had once been. That was why it had been easier to deny having problems at all. These fights represented the absence of love, and facing that was more than Oliver could deal with. The only difference between then and now, though, was that then he only had to be good enough to keep Caleb. Now, he had to figure out how to get him back, and if he was even supposed to want that. [/div] Words: 1456 Notes: flakdsjg
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Post by caleb jay ierie on Apr 29, 2013 23:31:38 GMT -7
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2] & BUT WHEN I CAME BACK IT WAS MORE OF A RELAPSE` THEY SAID 'IF YOU DON'T LET IT OUT YOU'RE GONNA LET IT EAT YOU AWAY I'D RATHER BE A CANNIBAL BABY ANIMALS LIKE ME DON'T TALK ANYWAY FEEL LIKE AN AMBULANCE, CHASER OF - - - - - - - - - - - faith | [atrb=width,240] If Oliver had tried to defend himself, if he promised it would never happen again, if he had tried to grovel to Caleb to take him back, Caleb might have given up. Not that Caleb expected Oliver to want him back. The fact was that Oliver had said all those things the first time it had happened, when they both seemed equally shocked and hurt. Caleb remembered getting home from work and pulling Oliver into a hug. Back then, he still loved the man, and he was willing to forgive him. Oliver had promise he would never hit Caleb again, and so the second time had hurt more than the first. The second time was easier to accept, however. The thing was, how was Oliver supposed to promise something wouldn't happen when he had no control over it? He couldn't keep his promise because it wasn't his to keep. It was the drugs and the cancer, and neither of those seemed very lenient in terms of listening to what Oliver wanted. Neither of them had control over this, and it was naive to think they did. The only thing they had to trust was that it was not Oliver.
It wasn't like it mattered anyway. This was old news. Caleb had simply not been able to get over it, and he never would.. He shouldn't have needed answers for something that already happened. He'd had his chance. It was his fault as much as it had been Olivers. He had promised Ollie that he would leave if Ollie ever hit him again, but he went no where. By doing this, Caleb was giving permission to Oliver, or the cancer, that this behaviour was okay. He was harbouring a bad habit, letting the weed grow and flourish in the shower of his love. That was what made it worse, that Caleb hadn't tried to stop him. Or tried to stop the drugs. Oliver could have overdosed, he could have gotten arrested, and instead he got cancer. It was Calebs duty to help Oliver, to take care of him. He was too much of a wimp, though he cared about Olivers well being. Often, Caleb would let people do whatever suited them, it was their body and it was their life. There was a certain line where you had to step in, though, and make the decisions for the other. Many things were not good for the body, or the mind, and Caleb should have realized that. He didn't want Oliver to get hurt, he had never wanted him to be so clearly addicted to drugs. He should have helped, but instead he let it turn into cancer and then kicked Oliver out of his life because he just couldn't deal with that.
Caleb had never understood the drugs though, where along the lines Oliver had gotten addicted. He seemed clean cut in high school, if not eccentric. People liked to think they could pinpoint the addicts, and in high school Caleb was sure it would have stuck out like a sore thumb. You didn't get away with that for long. Olivers parents were well respected people, upright, and raised Oliver well. Caleb could never see them letting Oliver get as bad with drugs as he had, and they were loving enough that this was not a product of neglect. It must have been something else, peer pressure, Caleb didn't know. He had never asked, because he thought that those things were Olivers to tell. As much as that was true, however, Caleb also knew that perhaps it was his place to know these things. He had made a lot of mistakes. And yes, he had the right to be angry, to be hurt, but he was just as at fault as Oliver was. That was part of the anger, knowing this was himself as well, and he couldn't take that all back. He only wanted to play the victim, he only wanted to be held, but he had to fess up to some of his own sins.
The whole problem here was they could never be sure if the doctors were right. They could blame the cancer for what had happened, it was easy. Neither of them was at fault then, though they'd acted about it the wrong ways anyway. It was all the cancer and they should have gotten it checked out, but they couldn't have fixed it with a few simple words. Was that supposed to be reassuring? They didn't know how long the cancer had been there. It could have been amplifying an already predisposed mannerism. “I know, I know they said it was the cancer. I know that. I thought it wasn't you and I told myself it wasn't you and for all I know, it wasn't you. But, I worry that it was. And then I think it can't be. That's not the Oliver I know, but then I wonder if I ever really knew you at all. I'm so confused. I never knew what to think, I still don't know what to think.” Caleb looked back down, water lingering his eyes now. He had to keep his arms by his sides to hide their shaking, but Caleb felt so cold. He knew he'd said and thought these things a million times, his mind was a broken record. He just wanted to figure them out. He knew the only way this could be fixed was to trust Oliver, or for Oliver to show him what he was really like. Caleb knew he couldn't have fallen in love with a liar(though he had once). He'd thought he knew Oliver, and had decided to live with him. Had that decision been preemptive, though? Caleb could have just been in love with the boy who made him who he was, not the actual man in front of him. It was easy to get distracted from truth when one was so tangled up in fantasy. These things could have easily slipped Calebs grasp until they were right in front of his face. He had loved Oliver so much, and he still did, and that had to mean something. “I should have cared for you Ollie, I should have tried. Instead I just kicked you out of my life. Shit like this always happens to me, and I do deserve it,” Caleb wasn't sure if he wanted to play the victim or not, he was trying not to let his words be skewed too much by his broken heart. Broken things needed to be mended, however, and Calebs heart deserved the same. | [atrb=width,140] words ,
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Post by oliver rhys cardinal on Apr 30, 2013 20:50:42 GMT -7
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OH, TAKE ME BACK TO THE START
As a child, it was rare Oliver hit anyone. It happened, of course, because every child does, but those times were few, and he learned soon enough from being scolded after them that it was wrong to use violence to get what he wanted. Perhaps it was simply because he got on well with his little sister, and that prevented the habit from forming, since there was no one small and aggravating for him to beat up on when he was younger. Problems were solved other ways, typically by simply not holding grudges and letting go of the simple things that were bothering him. There was no traumatic backstory, not abuse in his history that would explain psychologically why he had turned to what he had. All in all, the boy had never really had many troubles at all, and so the reasons behind his actions had always been complicated. Some of them he knew and some he wasn’t entirely sure of himself, but somehow he had never gotten around to telling them to Caleb, who, more than anyone, should have had a right to know. They didn’t talk enough, that was the problem. There was never any communication about these things because they interfered with their happiness and so they didn’t matter. That is, until they got bigger and blew up, becoming so much more real, until they couldn’t pretend anymore.
It was so difficult to see and hear Caleb like this: worked up, upset, almost angry, on the brink of tears. They weren’t supposed to be like this, standing there and hurting each other and hurting over each other. But the man standing in front of him had every right to say what he did. Because some things needed to be said, even after they’d been hidden away for months on end. If Caleb had thought about them even half as much as Oliver had, this could go on for hours. Oliver hadn’t really appreciated the sheer enormity of things left unsaid until then, when they had started to pour out. "I know. You're right to worry about it. Fuck, even I'm scared that it's my fault, even though that really doesn’t help my case here, but the point is that if I can’t trust myself I don’t know how anyone else can be expected to. All I want is to prove that I'm not like that and that I don't want to hurt you but it's gonna take time to earn your trust back because I ruined everything and I know I don't deserve your time anymore but I miss you and I don't want you to hate me anymore because that wasn't me and I need you to believe that somehow, if there's even any way to do that after everything I did to you." There was so much more that he wanted to say, but the timing seemed so off. He could have--perhaps should have--explained about his drug habits, where they had come from and why he continued them, or something, but surely that could wait until Caleb asked, or until the conversation pointed more in a similar direction. Part of him wished there was a way to say that he had tried to protect Caleb, making him swear after the first incident that he would leave before it could go any further. But then again, he was sure that bringing it up would simply raise tension, turn Caleb defensive maybe, and he didn’t want that. He didn’t mean them to be words of conflict. All he wanted was to understand why Caleb had stayed, because in doing so he had broken his promise and enabled the problem to escalate and allowed them to get where they were. Still, Oliver knew that Caleb had probably realized this for himself, and he didn’t want to add to the blame. On top of that, though, was the simple fact that without Caleb, without the outlet for the cancer to reveal itself, perhaps they wouldn’t have realized what was happening. If Oliver had lived alone in their big house, no one could have known when he was different, no one would have called an ambulance when he had passed out in the middle of the entryway, and he could’ve been dead today, instead of standing here reaching so desperately for a solution. That possibility was all too prominent, and so Oliver didn’t comment on it at all. If Caleb wanted the conversation in that direction, then Oliver would tread carefully, but until then, he would leave it alone entirely. There was no changing the past; the what-ifs about it would never be understood completely, and they would have to accept that.
What Caleb said next caught him off guard, even for this situation. Shit like this always happens to me, he had said, and somehow Oliver could recognize immediately that he wasn’t referring to Oliver’s own repeated offenses. There was something more there, and he found himself then trying to think of anything Caleb had ever said about anyone he’d dated before, even the most insignificant things, but nothing that came to mind was any sort of warning sign. Oliver knew the studies, about how victims of some sort of relationship abuse usually ended up in similar relationships throughout their lives, and if that was the case, Oliver thought he might be sick. If it wasn’t bad enough that he himself had been terrible to him, the thought of himself not being the first, the idea of only being someone to continue the treatment that Caleb had always known whether he realized he needed it or not, that was too much. In that moment, the anxieties and fears he had had for their relationship turned to concern for Caleb, because no matter what he said, no one deserved to be hurt the way that Oliver had hurt him. “I wish you had let me stay, Callie, but we both know how dangerous that would have been, and anyways it doesn’t matter now because there’s no way to change what already happened. Your timing hurt, I can’t deny it did, but you couldn’t have been expected to go through that anymore. You didn’t do anything wrong by sending me away,”
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[/color] he said, addressing the first part of what he said because it was so much easier to say those words, to say what he had wanted and how it was of no consequence because the time was past. The rest, though, what could someone say to that? “Caleb, when has this happened before?”[/color] Oliver asked, his tone completely changed, and instead of the regret from before it was strictly something worried, sympathetic. Because this issue, this history--if it was how Oliver thought it was--was not the same problem as a failed relationship. The problem was not between two ex-lovers but between a victim and someone who cared. And it would be justified if Caleb refused to open up about it, because Oliver himself was one of the perpetrators, and that made him no better than the rest. “You don’t deserve that. No one deserves that.”[/color] It didn’t matter what Caleb would or wouldn’t say. Whatever he had gone through, it was unfair, it wasn’t something he had earned for himself. Above all, Caleb was a good person, and someone hurting him--even Oliver himself, if it could truly be called his doing--was being unnecessarily cruel and should not be allowed to continue. Thinking like this, though, it just gave Oliver all the more reason why Caleb shouldn’t take him back, and despite six months of trying to get over him and stop thinking this way, Oliver couldn’t help but be afraid of this rejection. He hadn’t been sure of what he wanted for them until he realized that for Caleb’s sake it probably shouldn’t be. He missed Caleb, he loved him, and he wanted them to be together again.[/div] Words: 1343 Notes: jaslkasg
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Post by caleb jay ierie on Apr 30, 2013 22:05:39 GMT -7
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2] & BUT WHEN I CAME BACK IT WAS MORE OF A RELAPSE` THEY SAID 'IF YOU DON'T LET IT OUT YOU'RE GONNA LET IT EAT YOU AWAY I'D RATHER BE A CANNIBAL BABY ANIMALS LIKE ME DON'T TALK ANYWAY FEEL LIKE AN AMBULANCE, CHASER OF - - - - - - - - - - - faith | [atrb=width,240] I miss you. The last time Caleb had heard those words, he had been away from home, on a business trip, and Oliver was simply waiting for Caleb to come back home.. They hadn't known about the cancer, they hadn't known what laid ahead, they had only been in love. Back then it meant 'I miss your body, your love, your laugh, yourself', and now? Now Caleb had no idea what it meant. But it was there, staring him right in the face. Oliver was talking in the present tense a lot. He wanted to prove he wasn't like that, for the future. He wanted to gain Calebs trust back, not instill it in the past – a place he couldn't reach anyway. It sounded like Oliver wanted him there somehow. Because of the comfort Caleb brought? The sense of familiarity? Or something more? The former was all that Caleb allowed himself to hope for, to cling to, because he desperately needed something to cling to. He wanted Oliver back, and he didn't even know what sense he meant. Not like it was before, because that had been bad, but not like it was now. Some happy medium, or a whole new plane. Oliver was hurting him; Caleb should have been used to that, but he still struggled. The automatic human response was still to heal himself and the man he cared about.
“I'm giving you my time right now, aren't I?” there he went, sounding hostile again. He hadn't meant to, he meant it in an endearing way, like if I can give you my time now, I can give you my time always. “What I said before wasn't a lie Ollie, no one could ever hate you. I never did.” again, he hesitated, not sure what was allowed when he spoke. So much for breaking glass. His hands were spasming under his arms. “I want to trust you.” Caleb felt choked up, he didn't know what to say, his eyes were burning, and he sniffed softly. I missed you those damn words kept running through Calebs head, what was he supposed to think about that? His head felt like a tangled mess. Oliver was breaking down the feeble wall he had built, and the man had no idea how bad Caleb wanted to hug him. “I can give you time” it was almost a croak, directed at the floor. Caleb felt far too hopeful, holding his heart high off the ground. It was in danger of breaking again, but that was what love did to him, what Oliver did to him. “and I miss you too” god dammit if a tear didn't roll down his face, but Caleb didn't move to push it away. He was looking at the ground as it were, and hoped that Oliver didn't see that. This was not a resolution, Caleb needed to say more, he wanted to say more, but that had to wait. There was only so much a man could spill out in one go without going insane.
He felt broken, shattered, what more was he supposed to withstand? It hurt, to know that he'd hurt Oliver, though he'd already known that. Hearing it made it worse. Caleb needed to sit down, to curl up, to disappear. Maybe he was trying to avoid Olivers question, as well, that was like a knife to the gut. His breathing was a little shallow and he was breaking apart. “I, uh” one little hesitation, that was all he could afford. When he said this, it would all have to be as one. “I had my first boyfriend in college, and I was in love with him. It was a shitty start to a relationship, I was drunk and very nearly slept with him, and it was a shitty relationship. He cheated on me from the beginning. He treated me like shit, made the sex awful, played with me like I was a toy. I guess I was, to him. I figured out what he was doing about six months in, but I couldn't leave, I couldn't. I felt like I needed him so much, my identity rested on this man that caused me nothing but pain. So I stayed. Six months later, he broke up with me because 'he was bored'. And that was it.” Calebs voice was remarkably strong for someone shaking like a leaf, for someone with more tears running down their face. He didn't know what to do anymore, he hadn't told anyone that. Not his previous boyfriends, not Jon, not his parents, and never Oliver. Again, he felt like he deserved it, and after he found out, he just accepted it. It was just Calebs way of dealing with things. He brought it upon himself, he really did. There was nothing he could do to change that. “I bring these things on myself. I'm sorry Ollie. I'm so sorry. I should have kept my promise and I didn't. I was so in love with you and I didn't want to ruin that. I should have realized something was wrong, I should have helped. You said you could kill me though, and I got so scared” he had to stop himself, before he started crying more, before he shook himself to death. He had said that he was in love with Oliver, past tense because he had been talking about when he broke his promise. He was still in love with Oliver, but that stood very clearly on the list of things he could not say. | [atrb=width,140] words ,
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notes , *sobs grossly*
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Post by oliver rhys cardinal on May 1, 2013 20:39:00 GMT -7
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OH, TAKE ME BACK TO THE START
All this time they had spent apart, what were they going to do with it all? It would be damaging, of course, to dwell on it. The six months since Oliver had been asked to leave were made of pure emotion, they were angry and sad and lonely and every phase of heartbreak a man could experience. They couldn’t just focus on that, because the feelings they had could just as easily pull them apart as could bring them together. Oliver didn’t know the odds, and so he was paranoid. Because they couldn’t just ignore the fact that they had been away from each other for half a year, and that it had only now become painful enough that they sought to find a solution. It made him worry that perhaps they weren’t as in love as his disillusioned soul led him to believe, and maybe it was just because he held so tightly to what they once were that he even dreamed they could improve anything by talking.
It was impossible to know how to react when Caleb's words felt critical of his own. He wondered briefly how he was even possibly shocked by anything that came out of Caleb’s mouth, when he had had six months to think of every possible conversation that they could ever have. Still, he hadn’t expected to be called out like that, and he was caught off guard. It felt a little better when Caleb again reminded him that he didn’t hate him, but he was still sort of frazzled when he responded. “Right, true, yeah. Sorry. I know,”
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[/color] he said, his words rushed, not realizing that Caleb would continue. Once it became more apparent, though, Oliver shrunk back, feeling stupid and awkward, like he could do nothing right with this conversation. Then, he just listened, letting Caleb say what he had to, that he wanted to trust him and that he missed him too and that he could give him time--which meant what? That they would see each other more often again? He tried not to let himself hope so, to avoid disappointment--and though it was what Oliver wanted to hear, there was still something about it that just hurt. Perhaps it was simply that Caleb looked so close to breaking apart. Oliver had never see the man so physically upset, but then again maybe he’d never tried so hard to hold back before. Though the pair of them might not have been very talkative about their problems and emotions, they’d never been particularly held back about being emotional by itself. Here, though, Caleb was clearly trying so hard not to cry--and failing--and it made Oliver feel helpless. Before, if Caleb was ever upset, be it over the thought of being in an airplane, or because his coworkers were bothering him, even sometimes when Oliver was the one who had been doing the hurting, Oliver had always been able to help make Caleb feel better about things. Now, he wasn’t sure if he had the power, much less the right. Instead he had to simply watch, biting his lip, trying to ignore the shaking and the tears and everything that might set him off himself. He didn’t need that at the moment, now that he finally found himself able to keep it together. Eventually, a person just runs dry, and he supposed that must have happened to him. Or maybe it was shock, shock that they were finally speaking again, but it was different from before because now their words were significant, each one a small piece of a solution. Hopefully a solution. At this point there was no way to know, and the uncertainty just made him more nervous. Listening to Caleb recounting his boyfriend from college was just more to add to the enormous amount of emotional strain he was trying to deal with all at once. It was terrible, knowing what he had been put through, his imagination ran wild, sending him mental images he didn’t want to see. Caleb getting stood up for dates, or ignored when he called, the way he would react to the unfunny jokes that went too far, and--he couldn’t stand that, and although he knew he was no better, he hated whoever it was that could do something like that to a man--a boy, really, college age and eager--who was nothing but good things. Oliver had known Caleb to be practically defenseless, and he wondered if this was cause or effect, wondering whether the other man had been able to exploit Caleb because of a clear potential to let it happen, or if he was the way he was because of what had been done by this ex. He felt weak from this information, wondering how Caleb managed to carry this around with him every day, and then put up with Oliver’s past behavior; how could anyone do it? And then again, Caleb was blaming himself, which was so awfully sad. Oliver didn’t know how he could show him otherwise, that it wasn’t his fault, it was never the victim’s fault because even if there was something that prompted the idea, the perpetrator should know better than to let it become an action, should have realized that it was unforgivably cruel to treat another human that way. “Callie, it’s not your fault, you have to believe that. Nothing you could do gives anyone the right to treat you as less than what you are. And--fuck, Caleb, you’re perfect, okay? You deserve someone better than that. And I know I’ll be better, if you want to let me try, but I don’t want you to feel unsafe, and I just. I’m sorry, both for what he did to you and what I did. And if you need me to go so you can think, because I know I used to be sort of influential on your decisions, I will, because I want you to make a decision for yourself. I want you to be happy.”[/color] After a moment, Oliver looked Caleb over again, taking in all the shaking and the strenuous fight against tears, and then he considered the way he felt ready to fall over just standing there. “Caleb? Do you maybe wanna sit down?”[/color] he asked gently, as if words that were too aggressive might be what made him collapse.[/div] Words: 1077 Notes: babies
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Post by caleb jay ierie on May 3, 2013 16:12:17 GMT -7
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2] & BUT WHEN I CAME BACK IT WAS MORE OF A RELAPSE` THEY SAID 'IF YOU DON'T LET IT OUT YOU'RE GONNA LET IT EAT YOU AWAY I'D RATHER BE A CANNIBAL BABY ANIMALS LIKE ME DON'T TALK ANYWAY FEEL LIKE AN AMBULANCE, CHASER OF - - - - - - - - - - - faith | [atrb=width,240] Honestly, Caleb found it hard to be hurt by what Kale had done to him anymore. He'd been through that heartbreak, and learned eventually that Kale was not good for him. He never appreciated Caleb, he always made fun of him, and it hurt, yes. That was past. Caleb only resented it for the fact that Kale had made that Calebs standard for relationships. He was fine with being abused in anyway possible, because that was what he expected. It didn't matter what vision his mind had built up over the 19 years previous to that relationship, Kale shattered that all. Caleb's idea was romance was reduced to nil, until he saw Oliver again. That was honestly the first time he'd gotten butterflies since high school, seeing him, talking to him. Even a year into their relationship, Oliver would still give him butterflies. This was romance, this was love. And then that was broken as well, and Caleb just accepted it. His life wasn't the fairy tale he tried to make it out to be. He just wanted it to be. So it hurt, when things resolved back to the way they always had been, despite the good. Caleb was constantly reminded that he was falling into the same old patterns. Perhaps it was a way of beating himself up, he didn't know. He might not have deserved it in relation to anyway he acted, but he didn't try to stop it, and therefore it was his fault.
The one big problem Caleb always had, was how he handled himself around Oliver. Away from him, the abuse seemed much larger, much more hurtful. He'd brush the bruises on his face and arms, the places where they once were, thinking about how could a loved one do this to him. He'd wonder if Oliver loved him, but then, when he got back to his love, feeling broken and alone, everything would be fixed. He missed Oliver because he loved him, but he also took a guilty relish in being away from him, knowing he wouldn't be in physical pain anymore. When he arrived back, he'd feel relieved though, the mental pain erasing away. Was that love, or just insanity? Caleb wasn't sure. He based his life around Oliver, would take business trips still but with him and mind, plan out all the times he could talk to Oliver. He only wanted to be with him, he was easily attached. Oliver was the worse one in the relationship in terms of clinginess, but Caleb had his own part in the matter. He ought to have fought of this by now, the way he would alter his decisions around Oliver, but he only realized this when Oliver brought it up himself. Caleb knew Oliver would always be better, no matter what. He was Caleb's Ollie-bird. That much would never change. He was feeling vulnerable now, though. Fighting the tears already running down his face, fighting the way he was shaking. He had considered sitting down, yes, but it seemed like such an adverse decision. He shook his head 'no'. No he didn't want to sit down, he didn't want to listen to Oliver, he was trying not to let Oliver influence his decisions, tell him what to do. It had been a question but it felt more like a suggestion and Caleb was highly adverse to that. He felt like if he sat down, he'd fall apart completely, his arms would fall off, and he'd just give up. He already felt at that point, but his legs were literally the only thing supporting him, both physically and mentally, as little sense as that made. If he moved one foot, it would certainly be in the wrong direction, and he'd end up collapsing on Oliver.
“No, please don't go” and suddenly Caleb reminded himself of Oliver, the other day, begging Caleb not to leave the grave site, kneeling on his sisters grave, clutching his wrist. The first moment of contact in six months, how that had sparked him. It was an intuitive response, Caleb was surprised even when he said it. It was instinctive to keep Oliver there, and it must have been the same for Oliver. It didn't matter who broke who's heart, what had happened, that instinct was still there. It had to mean more. Despite the fact that Caleb was hurt, crying, beyond breaking and more than anything tired, he needed Oliver there. Oliver was dealing out the pain, but he was also the only thing that would make it better. “I can only be happy when I'm with you Ollie. It's stupid and it makes no sense, but it's what works. You made me who I am and you complete me and I can't fight that anymore.” the words he said surprised himself, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to say those things. Screw permission, though, screw being kind. This was how Caleb felt and that was what mattered. They couldn't get past anything without voicing how they felt. “I'm not perfect. I want you and I need you even if you hurt me. If you told me it wouldn't happen again, I'd believe you. I'd...” he almost said he'd date Ollie again, take him back, in a heart beat. It was never a lie. There was still so much to be said though. They couldn't fall into old patterns. Caleb sucked in a hollow breath, but it sounded more like a sob. He was still fucking crying. After a moment, he looked up at Oliver, his face red and blotched, tears messing up his cheeks. He hadn't wanted Oliver to see him like this because he knew it hurt, but he looked anyway. “Why did you do it?” his voice was back to being hostile, a little bit angry. A question he had never bothered to ask and now that it wasn't his business, he was asking. “The drugs, I mean.” | [atrb=width,140] words ,
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notes , GOOD LoRD CALEB
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Post by oliver rhys cardinal on May 4, 2013 18:52:39 GMT -7
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OH, TAKE ME BACK TO THE START
In the months he had cancer, Oliver’s will to live had shrunk down to next to nothing. For a while, he thought nobody noticed. His friends always tread so lightly around him anyway, not knowing how to adjust to the thought of him dying, and his depression probably made the sight of him so much worse, giving the illusion that he was closer to death than he really was. Perhaps that was why they had simply tried to make him laugh, instead of talking to him about how he felt; they didn’t think he had a choice either way, they thought he wouldn’t live, and so they just wanted his last months to be less miserable. Oliver didn’t want to be miserable, either, but his friends’ wishes of ‘get well soon,’ and ‘don’t worry, you’ll beat this disease,’ well, they mostly just depressed him further, knowing that it was selfish and wrong to want to let it take him. What was there to live for, anyway? That was the big question. Doing things without a point was a waste of time, and to Oliver everything had seemed pointless. For a while, he had no idea why he did it anymore, and his thoughts, though they were never quite suicidal, stood on a fragile edge of becoming so, and even he wasn’t sure what it was that kept them balanced. Curse his unbreakable spirit or love of life or whatever it was that was holding him tight to the earth, fuck it all. Oliver felt broken, he hated life, and he was tired of trying to live it with one foot in the grave. While his physical condition did, in fact, improve, his mental and emotional ones did quite the opposite, feeling worse as the time away from Caleb--who seemed to hold the key to Oliver’s happiness--grew longer and longer. It wasn’t until one night when his mother walked in on him crying that anything really changed. She’d sat down beside him, cradling him in his arms, petting his hair like she used to before there were ever boys to do it instead. “You have to get better, Oliver. I need you.”
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[/color] And that was what he had been waiting for, it seemed: a reminder that he was needed. Being needed was the wakeup call that he hadn’t even know he was searching for. It gave him purpose again, a reason to get up every day and at least fake a smile for those for whom it mattered. It meant so much, that she still knew exactly what to say. I need you. And he couldn’t let her down. History certainly did have a tendency of repeating itself, and it made Oliver dizzy. Then again, it may not have been the repetition so much as what the words meant, especially coming from Caleb’s lips. Don’t go. I want you. I need you. Words he didn’t think he’d ever hear the man say again. This entire day had been the opposite of what he expected it to be. Oliver had believed that he’d be home by now, perhaps sitting around the breakfast table with plates of cold eggs and untouched bacon in front of them, simply because they couldn’t eat while grieving the way they were. He had expected to get nowhere with Caleb, that the single night they spent together would be the closing of their relationship. They would have that night together, yes, but not this morning, not this...this...it was almost like they were resolving something. Or making progress to, at least, and that was very much a change from history. And so perhaps there was a third option to why he felt like the world was spinning out from under him: because everything was so dramatically different. Different from how he expected, different from what he knew, different from how they had always been. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but then he remembered that in the past, their relationship had been complicated and only happy in the shallowest of meanings. Maybe different was something good. Still, Oliver couldn’t put words to how excruciating it was. There was little more painful in his world than seeing Caleb this upset, especially when it was all because of him. He missed the light in his eyes, the smile on his face, the typical characteristics of his beloved Callie Bear. Instead he just looked broken, and it hurt so much. Continuing the trend of unexpected things, Caleb finally asked why. Oliver had never gotten into this story with anyone, simply because he’d never felt that it would matter. He didn’t want to talk about that breakup; he’d sworn off thoughts of the boy after he resolved to stop being heartbroken. What he put in his body was his business, and it wasn’t hurting anyone but him. But he had been wrong, of course, as he often was. The drug habit had hurt Caleb by amplifying what the cancer did to him, if it hadn’t entirely caused it to begin with. And so Caleb had a right to know why. “When I was seventeen, I dated this guy and all I ever wanted was his approval because I thought I was in love with him and he was always doing drugs and because I wanted him to stay with me I did too. And I dunno, I kinda liked the feeling but mostly I liked being with him and so I let him do whatever he wanted and that involved stashing his stuff at my house. So then one day he just stopped being around and a few days later his friend came to tell me that he was dating someone else and that I should stop stalking him and just get over it. And maybe it wouldn’t have upset me so much if he had bothered to tell me that we were breaking up, but as it was I felt like I’d been thrown away and I hated it and I hated him and all the way home from school all I could think about was how I needed to get rid of everything he had at my house but when it came to actually throwing it away I couldn’t because all I could think about was how I felt pretty good doing them with him and so instead of throwing them out I took them any time I missed him, and then when I ran out I got more because I knew his dealer because he made me get stuff for him when he was too lazy to, and even after I was over him I still just fell into the same routine any time I was lonely because I can remember the way it gets rid of that feeling and somewhere along the lines I got addicted and I was stupid and young and I’m sorry but I didn’t know any other way to cope. I’m clingy and I know it and when there’s no one with me it made things seem better.”[/color][/div] Words: 1223 Notes: rapidfire. o k
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Post by caleb jay ierie on May 5, 2013 16:48:40 GMT -7
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2] & BUT WHEN I CAME BACK IT WAS MORE OF A RELAPSE` THEY SAID 'IF YOU DON'T LET IT OUT YOU'RE GONNA LET IT EAT YOU AWAY I'D RATHER BE A CANNIBAL BABY ANIMALS LIKE ME DON'T TALK ANYWAY FEEL LIKE AN AMBULANCE, CHASER OF - - - - - - - - - - - faith | [atrb=width,240] The reason Caleb had felt hurt before was because he had worried that this would turn out how all their talks turned out. He would try to voice his opinion, try to say what he wanted to, try to be angry with Oliver, but Ollie always broke him down. Caleb didn't like seeing his love hurt, crying, angry. Oliver always needed to be happy and it was Calebs personal mission to see that was always fulfilled. He took care of Oliver in the worst way. Ollie didn't always need to be happy if there were problems between them, and Caleb surely did not need to jeopardize his own emotional health, or safety, for Olivers sake. Even when Oliver was the one to voice that he thought they ought to talk – which became less and less as time went on – it would turn out this way. Caleb was bad at holding a grudge, he was too forgiving. Push the blame onto himself rather than on to others. This time was different though. Caleb was backing down from his anger because he felt like what he wanted to be said was being said. He wasn't sure if that was what happened the other times as well; and then when Oliver left he would be flooded with misgivings over the things they had said. This felt right, however, and they were talking. Oliver was listening to him, letting him cry, letting him get these things out of his system. That was all Caleb needed.
It was hard to think that a significant other needed to know everything that happened in the others past. This was mostly because of the fact that it was hard for one to relive these things. To bring them up again, renew the pity from someone else when really, you were more than over it, it was difficult. Sometimes they understood, that was in the past, but certain things about it were what made you tick. Caleb craved the comfort and stability of cuddling because that was something he longed for as an only child. He was scared to ask for them, and too become too clingy, because that was what Kale took from him, the ability to be dependant. He needed to be able to live his own life. Caleb worried constantly about the safety and happiness of others because as a child, he was charged single-handedly with the task of keeping his parents expectations met. Oliver, or any other man that Caleb could grow to love, needed to know these things to understand him. They needed to talk abut their pasts, even the messy bits, and accept the ugliest part of each other.
Caleb hadn't really been mad at Olivers clingy nature It has been hard, when he was at work and Oliver missed him and that caused him to do drugs. That made Caleb feel responsible. But he was also responsible to do his job, get money, and not leave at the drop of a hat. He always felt like he aught to have been more available for Oliver, but that was not the point. Oliver would always feel lonely without Caleb, his job being mostly home based. He noticed when Caleb was gone for all hours of the day. It was hard to work around, but in no way was it Calebs fault and he needed to realize that. He felt sometimes that Oliver resented Calebs work, that Caleb aught to stay home, but that wasn't true. Ollie just needed someone to be around, help him. Caleb could be that man, but not full time. He needed to work, and Oliver and him just needed to communicate more. That was all this boiled down too, and maybe this was the mark of a new beginning.
“Ollie” he muttered,words catching on a sob, his tears drying up slowly. “Jesus Christ,” he ran a hand through his hair, pulling at it, a habit he knew he picked up from Oliver. He felt a little less broken, because now it was Olivers turn. Now he knew, and it made him hurt a lot more than the other options. He'd always thought it was simple addiction, the same old story, something Oliver got into. Caleb thought Oliver's relationships had to have been all good, he was Oliver Cardinal. He was an angel. Or, so Caleb had thought. How could anyone do that though? To his Ollie bird. Though, Caleb had done the same, throwing him out like a wet rag. They were both repeating histories here, and they seemed to have a past of choosing bad guys for themselves. Maybe this meant that something could be right between them, Caleb could hope so. Their past relationship was not all butterflies and rainbows, it was not shallow in the least. They lived off the surface, but something went deeper, something that lasted through the past six months and left them here, bruised and broken. They only had to explore those depths to see what they could salvage back.
“Promise me,” Caleb breathed, his words a little shaky. “Promise me it won't happen again. Not the drugs, not the abuse. And then, if you want, I'll give you all the time in the world. I'll help you get over the loneliness, I'll do what I should have done. I won't leave, not again, not until you need me to go,” he didn't know what this would mean between them, what section of a relationship this would place them in. Caleb didn't care, he wanted to make sure that Oliver knew that he was here for him, finally. He wished he had been before, but there was nothing he could do now. | [atrb=width,140] words ,
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tagged ,
ollie bird!
notes , ITS GETTING BETTER~
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Post by oliver rhys cardinal on May 5, 2013 21:22:25 GMT -7
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OH, TAKE ME BACK TO THE START
Oliver had never meant for his influence over Caleb to hurt them. He was aware that he had an astounding effect on the man, that was no question. That would be a side effect of the love they had for each other, he supposed, and it was simply amplified by Caleb’s personality. It was convenient sometimes, being able to bend him, but Oliver would never do it maliciously. The things Oliver meant to make him do were small, like staying in bed with him another ten minutes or letting him buy another scarf even though he had plenty at home in their closet. As their relationship became more strained, however, it appeared that the extent of Oliver’s power was far greater than that, even without trying. It only ever took a little pleading, and Caleb would be putty in his hand, willing to forgive any mistake and forget any action done against him. This was never what Oliver intended, but in his desperation, it was convenient, because all he wanted was for Caleb to stay with him through anything. But he had never meant for it to get so bad, that Caleb would be risking practically his life because he could never say no to Oliver. If it wasn’t intentional, was it still his fault? Oliver didn’t know, but he did know it was unhealthy for a relationship, to be able to manipulate and be manipulated, especially without any effort. So it made Oliver wonder if whether going back into this was worth it, if would do either of them any good in the long run.
But then again, maybe it would be different. Oliver certainly wanted it to be different, and so far it definitely seemed to be that way. They were talking, really properly talking, and Oliver had no intention of shutting Caleb down the way he had always done when the man wanted to talk through their problems. That wasn’t the way he was anymore. He was better now, and now that he had a better knowledge of what he had to lose, he was willing to do more to make sure that he never had to live without it again. The relationship needed work to get back to normal, and from there it would need work to maintain and build upon their love, and now, finally, after six months of life alone, Oliver understood that completely.
Talking about his ex-boyfriend was something he had thought somehow he could avoid, like maybe the reasons behind his drug use would never come up, that Caleb and anyone else who could ever possibly find out would just accept that they were something that he did and that the reasons were irrelevant because they were illegal regardless of why they were taken. Some people didn’t need to ask all the extra questions, and they would be satisfied with less. Oliver hoped that everyone he met was like that, never asking too much, letting the memory die somewhere in the corner of his mind until it didn’t hurt anymore. Somehow, Oliver had let himself believe it didn’t hurt anymore, but he knew that every time he did a line he was just proving that he was scarred, not fixed. He’d denied it for a long time, but he knew now that it mattered, that he had to face it if he was going to get better. It was one thing that the boy had ruined the relationship between the two of them, but when it interfered in relationships like Oliver’s with Caleb--relationships that actually mattered--then it was time to find a solution. Maybe he should have realized that before; maybe that could have spared them all of this. It was impossible to know now, and so it was pointless to wonder. All that really mattered was that they moved forward, right?
He wasn’t quite sure how to react to Caleb when he simply said his name and pulled his hair, because the simply sight and sound made him feel light, fluttery; Caleb was still using the nickname only he was allowed to speak, still performing habits he had picked up from spending too much time with him. It was unclear whether Oliver should speak at all, but it didn’t matter, given that his mind felt completely blank and empty, and he couldn’t say anything anyway. In the end, though, Caleb continued, and the words he spoke made him weak as they played over and over in his head. They could get back together. Caleb would let him try again. They could be happy again.
However he’d been managing not to cry before, what with the words he was saying and hearing and with the sight of Caleb crying in front of him, whatever incredible force had held back the tears, it disappeared then, and he felt himself breaking down. It was relief, mostly, that Caleb would ever be willing to have him again, but also some leftover hurt spilling out, knowing it wasn’t needed anymore. “Of course I promise. God, I’d...I’d do anything, Caleb,”
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[/color] he said, one hand pulling at his hair, trying to get a grip. “I need you. I don’t know how to be happy without you and I feel purposeless spending my days and nights alone and, fuck, last night was the first time I’ve even slept through the night in months because there’s nothing and no one to hold onto if you’re not there beside me. I promise I’ll be better, Callie. Please.”[/color] He wasn’t sure why exactly he still felt the need to beg, but perhaps it was that he still thought he deserved to. It shouldn’t be so easy to get Caleb back, not after everything he done. He didn’t want this to be able Caleb’s inability to say no, he wanted it to be an informed choice, where his arguments and Caleb’s logic lined up to something close to forgiveness. That was all he could ask for.[/div] Words: 1004 Notes: aaaaa
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