falkeditupagain | TLV IC Inbox

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[It seems someone has decided to change his voicemail following graduation. Hes trying so hard to sound professional, business like, but Hanna's usual enthusiasm bleeds through easily.]

You have reached the mailbox of Hanna Cross. If you don't have an appointment, my secretary will follow up with a return message shortly. [a short pause.] meaning me. I'll get back to you, don't worry.

And if this is an emergency what are you doing on the phone? Cardio is your friend. byyyye!

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Hanna has to unbury himself from his project, carefully pushing a small mountain of flowers out of the way so he can cross the room to the kitchenette.

Pulling the package from the cupboard he selects a mug and starts heating up the water in the microwave. Hanna isn't generally one to use a stove, its better that way.

"They're for John and Sokie's wedding? We might be swimming in them by the time I'm done." He leans against the counter, looking at David on the floor and gives a pointed look at him and then the stool on the other side of the tiny kitchen island, "we have stools, Henry. We're not animals. Though don't let me keep you on the floor if thats where your heart needs you to be, bud."

He makes a breathy noise of amusement.

"Don't trust my balance for this next bit."

Which makes no actual sense without telling Hanna what he's going to do, but he also doesn't want to say and then talk himself out of it.

John and Sokie's-- "I have to congratulate him."

Bemused, dazed, only peripherally his focus.

David closes his eyes to narrow in on that little drawbridge somewhere in his psyche that he's kept solidly raised. The switch, the internal setting, the puzzle piece he keeps just a little crooked so it can't snap into place without his say so.

It's harder outside of Saga's cabin. That's an established- safe zone isn't the right word, but it's as close as he can get just now in his own head. It's the familiar LZ. A change of scenery requires extra work.

"Well, if you're falling over, on the floor is probably the best place for you. Dunno if I could get you back up myself." He might be able to? But he'd probably strain something.

"Maybe I can teach you how to make them so I still have fingertips when it's through." The microwave beeps and he pulls the mug out, stirring in the packet from his spot on the counter. He uses two since it doesn't taste as good without milk but hes all out.

"You want anything else? I still got oreos...hostess whatevers on the top shelf?"

"No." He finally catches himself. "No, thank you."

Deep breath, eyes closed, just- do it.

Do it.

It takes imagining them back in that nightmare hallway once upon a time, watching monsters close in, and telling himself the way to get out is to just--

When numbness disappears, Henry feels like he's going to throw up. There's no particular piece of the situation or his emotions about it that make him feel queasy, it's just the size of it all, the overwhelming weight of shock rolling back over him like a boulder from the top of a hill.

He has to lower his head and focus on the breathing they taught him in the military, anchoring himself piece by piece with the faint smell of chocolate and the sounds of his heartbeat and Hanna's, the colors of the flowers and paper on the bed, the soft stink of hot glue.

When he looks at Hanna, his blue eyes are wide and a little feral and panicked in a way that Hanna has definitely never seen before.

The spoon he'd been using to stir the mug scrapes one last time before it abruptly stops, his own blue eyes staring back at David's, a little surprised, but despite the way he should be a little alarmed there is zero fear.

He takes the mug with him, crosses the floor and sits in front of Henry on the rug. The mug gets set on the floor next to his knee, and carefully Hanna reaches out, puts a gentle hand on his arm, "I'm right here with you, bud. You okay?"

"I don't know." He says each word like he's feeling his way through the sentence, searching in the dark for the next piece.

Henry puts his hand over Hanna's, and his skin prickles as the good stuff starts to bubble up from under everything else. He feels breathless. Affection, relief, trust, a strange pride in himself that he doesn't want to examine.

"Hi."

"Thats okay," he always thought 'I don't know' was harder to say than anything else anyways, and he smiles up at David, uses that cue of touch to gently squeeze his arm.

"Hi," he says back, smile pulling a little wider as he tilts his head, carefully watching David's eyes, trying to see more emotion in them, trying to push that fear back and away.

"You didn't fall over."

Henry finds himself weirdly shy, studied that way, but he doesn't look away. Brow furrows in worry, he has to swallow down nerves, but he stays steady even worrying for the first time what Hanna thinks of him.

"Guess I've gotten more used to turning the lights back on." His tone is quieter somehow. Not that he's ever been loud, but it's clear the gentle formality when everything is shut down comes from him, not programming. Politeness and habit, not obedience and training.

He can see that it's not actually helping and sits back, still keeping the connection of his hand to arm, but loosening his grip.

"Probably like me. You'd think it'd be easy, putting yourself and your needs more forward facing, but that shit's hard." He sounds just the same, never minding that David is quiet, he seems familiar still, like there isn't a huge difference, just there's more of him.

"Dont forget your cocoa, btws."

When nothing happens, when Hanna looks at him and sounds exactly the same, Henry perceptibly relaxes. And then, he even smiles when he picks up the mug.

"Thanks, John Connor." The change is in his voice now, more of that presence Hanna noticed. More of a drawl on the nickname. Henry ducks his head as he says it, grinning unintentionally as he teases his friend. Teases his friend. Henry's eyelids flutter shut and he wipes at his eyes, embarrassed.

"Body seems to think I need to cry about everything, even when it's not something to cry about."

Hanna snorts, dipping his head himself as he finally lets go. He thinks Henry will be okay free standing, and if he isn't, he's still inches away.

"A lot of people cry when they see me. You just had a delayed reaction. And thankfully for different reasons other than the red hair, weird vibes, horror of being close enough for a conversation." He ticks things off on his fingers, "don't bother me none. Though...shit. I dont think i have any kleenex in here..."

The teasing tone is still there, with a thread of earnest-ness woven in now.

"You know, my friend deserves better than to be talked about like that. Been meaning to bring that up."

Hanna raises an eyebrow, "yeah? Well, its a work in progress... kinda just been that way since highschool. Habits are hard things to break."

He his smile is still there bit it dims just a little. "You're not the only one with a problem with it by the way."

He punches Hanna's arm gently. "Don't beat yourself up for beating yourself up, either."

Hanna raises his hands in a defensive gesture, "no, no. Im just making sure you know that i know it's not kosher. Making fun of myself usually breaks the tension. I dunno if it, like...is a reflection of who I think I actually am."

Well...

"Not so much anymore, I mean. Cause I definitely did. My self worth was like a malnourished kitten. It's got its foster home now, it gets fed. Its growing. Just cant expect all that change all at once."

"All right, well. Good." He can accept that. God knows it's taken him this long to progress to the point where he'll show Hanna what he's like with actual feelings. "It deserves taking care of."

He sits on the edge of Hanna's bed, careful to avoid disturbing any of the flowers. "That's a good-- is that one a metaphor?"

One is the comparison one, one is the thing-described-as-another-thing one, and Henry cannot for the life of him recall which is which.

There is a moment where Hanna looks like hes legitimately trying to remember whether thats right or not before he grins at Henry, "dude, you are asking the wrong person. I... I think it is? God."

He hadnt really been paying a lot of attention in highschool. First there was magic and then, well? Everything else.

"Never mind about my self-worth kitten anyways, you were gonna tell me about Saga, yeah?" He shifts some things around so he can sit next to him, leaning back on an elbow.

"How's all that?"

"Right. Yeah."

That sends a fresh thunder of shock through him. Only this time he can feel it, and he has to take a second to breathe.

Hanna's feet kick back and forth, tilting his head as he waits. He is cool with waiting.

"Take your time, I ain't going anywhere."

"Truthfully... I don't even know what I want to say." Which is an odd realization.

Because Hanna gets it. Henry can tell. Hanna gets loss, more than most people and probably more than anyone should. "I just- I needed someone to know. Wanted you to."

"That happens sometimes. I mean, I know i talk a lot but sometimes thats just cause I have to sort through the wrong words before the right ones come out."

He doesn't mind carrying it for Henry, he could, if he wanted him to. "Whats that sam said as they walked through Mordor? 'Share the load'."

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