interstellar5555 | when the hope of morning starts to fade in me

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when the hope of morning starts to fade in me

Who: Tiger Universe and Greg Universe
What: On the verge of a breaking point, Tiger briefly runs away from "home."
When: Late at night on October 27th.
Where: Several blocks away from his venue in downtown Vista.
Warnings: People being super troubled, child ptsd.

He never really planned this. If he had, they probably would have known. He's not sure how - there's no rationality to it. He just feels like the managers anticipate when he's going to do something wrong, because they always seem to be ready for it. Even this doesn't seem like it will last.

But he's not really running away from Pride, at least not consciously. It's not the music that he hates, or his career. The thing that is so maddening is that he doesn't understand anything about this - he doesn't know why he acts the way he does when he fears the consequences so much. He doesn't know why he feels more and more like he can't breathe, and like he needs to do something, break something, for the tension to release.

So maybe breaking the rules will suffice, even if they just drag him back, after everything. Even if they hit him or punish him, like something in his subconscious tells him that they might. If he had the choice, though...he's not sure if he'd ever go back.

At some point he wanders down to the lower half of the streets, where the high rises and walk ways dimly illuminate from above. It's past midnight, by now, probably. He'd been doing some kind of press event for System Crash, but before Jin had known what he was doing, he just ran. Now he realizes that he has no idea where he is or where he's going - he never goes anywhere unescorted. He's not really allowed to.

But people, here and there, are already starting to recognize him. He wonders what he could do. Maybe if he cuts his hair off, or washes his face, they won't notice him anymore. He doesn't want to talk to them - he doesn't even feel like he's allowed to, unsupervised.

When some of his observers try to actually approach him, he straight up runs. They people calling after him don't actually sound like fans.

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The streets are already bustling and noisy, and only get moreso as people start whispering and pointing--then start yelling and reaching out. As colorful as the night crowds can get, Tiger sticks out plainly. There's too many people around for him to outrun for long. A hand lands on him, and grabs on tight.

"Marty! Jeez, bro, you gave me a heart attack!"

With his hair hidden under his jacket, his hat low, and glasses on, Greg passed more as a grad student than a rock star. He knelt down before Tiger, hands firm on his shoulders.

"Jeez. I'm not taking you out if you run off like that, okay? Mom'll murder me."

There was still a crowd, peering around and muttering. Greg leans in, doing his best to shield Tiger's face from prying eyes. "Look at me, man, are you hurt?"

It's to Greg's advantage that Tiger doesn't recognize him immediately. At least sort of. It means that instead of immediately declaring Greg's real name on sight, he's more confused and startled than defensive, and he goes absolutely rigid at Greg's hands being on his shoulders.

"Wh-What are you-" he starts, not comprehending what he is trying to do. He reflexively tries to pull away a moment later. "Don't touch me, man-" he says, sounding genuinely threatened.

In his mind he is basically about to get shoved into a van, until the familiarity of Greg's voice starts to occur to him.

"You..." he trails off, freezing. Is this seriously Greg Universe?

Greg winces, and loosens his hold. They already look shady enough as it is, without Tiger thrashing and yelling. Thankfully, the kid isn't taking too long to catch on. Greg gives him a weary grin.

"Deep breaths, little bro. Been a long night, huh?"

Taking off his cap, Greg pulls it over Tiger's curls. It looks pretty mismatched with the rest of Tiger's getup, but he needs what camouflage he can get.

"C'mon. We'll get back to the hotel, you can rest up. Sound good?"

He holds out a hand, his smile anxious. Please, please take it this time.

You can practically see the instinctive revulsion of that offer of a hand - not especially at Greg himself but being pressured into it even as a deception makes him extremely uncomfortable. He manages to buckle down and take it, though, staring at the ground. Sorry Greg.

"Fine," he mumbles, apparently willing to go with him for now.

It's as far drom happy as it can get, but it's not a rejection, and that's a step up from last time. Greg figures that must be more of a mark on how bad off Tiger is, than anything about their relationship. For now, he'll take what little he can get.

They walk quietly, long enough to get away from any of the crowd from before. "Is there somewhere you want to go?" He doubts there had been a plan, running through the street like that, but if there's anyplace Tiger wants to be, Greg will make sure he gets there safe.

Tiger lets go of Greg's hand as soon as there's nobody obviously watching. He feels extremely nervous about this. He feels like he's been caught doing something he's not supposed to, and by someone who makes him uncomfortable, none the less. He just stares at his feet, trying not to break down out of frustration, until Greg eventually talks.

"I should just...go," he says, in reply, hustling his pace a little bit like he's intending on parting ways right there. He doesn't sound resentful, really. If anything, his aggression towards Greg is unusually lacking, as if he's too distracted by everything else to remember to do it. Everything about the ways he holds himself is extremely guarded - something is obviously very wrong, here.

"I'm not leaving you 'til you're somewhere safe." It's quiet, not at all stern or harsh, but it's a statement of inarguable fact. Tiger won't get rid of him as easily as last time.

Still, he doesn't have much clue what the next step should be. Greg cricks his neck, glancing around as though for inspiration, before defaulting to the standard. "There's a cool Greek place a few blocks down that oughta be open. If you're hungry. You ever tried shawarma? They got burgers too."

There's something about that seemingly friendly offer that causes Tiger to snap. He spins around to face Greg with his fists clenches, eyes beading with tears of frustration.

"I'm not out here for burgers, okay? It's none of your business!" he yells.

The outburst is met only with a faint, tired frown. After the other night, everything Tiger says just makes Greg ache. This is what he'd sounded like, isn't it?

"I know you're not. I just thought you might want some anyway." He hooks his thumbs into the pockets of hes jeans. "You don't have to talk to me, man. You don't have to tell me a thing. I just wanna make sure you get what you need, okay?"

"Well, you can't!" he snaps, with a strange sort of decisiveness. He knows for a fact that Greg can't give him what he needs - mostly because Tiger doesn't think there is anything that can fix this, whatever his problem really is. He feels like he doesn't even understand himself, and what he wants or needs.

More and more it feels like he's living inside of someone else.

"You can't help, you can't fix it, you..." And by then he's straight up crying. He'd managed to hold off this long, but he just feels so awful, so hopeless. Even now, there's nowhere he can go. He's still trapped.

The worst par is, he's right. Even if Greg has some idea of the misery Tiger's going through, he hasn't got a clue for how to fix it. He got better through some sort of ghost magic nonsense, but that's not how it works for normal people. Normal people end up staying broken for a heck of a lot longer.

Longer isn't the same as forever, though. Greg's a patient guy. After a moment, he steps forward and hugs the sobbing teen. "I know, man. I can't fix anything with one lousy night. But you heard what I said, right?"

He doesn't squeeze Tiger tight, just holds him, warm and steady. "I'm not going anywhere until you're safe. However long that takes. You got me?"

By all rights he should really just shove him away - because he didn't ask for this shit, he didn't say that Greg could touch him. But while he stands here, sobbing and feeling so unbearably empty of anything but self hatred and helplessness, he just can't bring himself to do it. Like he just doesn't have the energy to pull away.

So he just lets Greg hug him and cries, even as part of him is disgusted at himself for it. Why does it always feel like this? Like he hates these aspects of himself, as if he wasn't the one who acted like this. How can he hate something that's part of him so thoroughly?

"I don't understand," he says incoherently as he cries, like he's trying to confess something he can't even articulate.

A few days ago, Greg might have thought that was in response to his own words. Now, he has a better idea of what Tiger means--in that neither of them know at all.

"That's okay. You don't have to figure it out by yourself."

He feels miserable, and he feels angry, but he has no way to separate the two emotions. He doesn't even really know if he's angry at Greg right now - he should be, part of him thinks, for making him break down like this. For getting in his face. But it's hard to follow through on that feeling when he's currently letting the man hug him while he cries.

"You shouldn't even...no one..." He keep trying to get words together, feeling like he should break free of whatever is happening here. "There's nowhere I can go that's any better..."

Mostly because wherever he goes, he'll be there.

After a small pause, Greg pulls back, just a little, so he can give Tiger a good look.

"Hey. C'mon. The world's a big place. I've seen a lot of it, and I still find new stuff to like, all the time. You get me?"

Tiger might be too busy crying to make it possible, but Greg was going to give the best eye contact he could. "We just need to find the right place for you to look. Okay?"

The break in contact sobers him up a little. It's not as simple as Greg seems to think it is - it's not like he could leave Pride if he wanted to! For...reasons? It's all he's got, isn't it? All he ever wanted.

He starts to feel claustrophobic all over again, thinking about it.

"It sucks," he insists, pulling away a bit more and wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. His super loud eye makeup is now everywhere. "It's sucked since ever."

"Well, I can't argue with that." He sighs, looking away while Tiger cleans himself up by making a mess. "But that doesn't say anything for the future, right?"

He looks up, to the night sky way past the high rises. That's one thing he really doesn't like about the city; you can't see the stars. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to promise you some magic fairy tale where it's quick or easy and we hug under a rainbow. I'm just saying, things aren't going to get better if you don't start looking for it."

Something about the way Greg puts that makes that familiar anger flare up in his chest. They always try to make it sound so easy, and it ticks him off to be patronized.

"What do you think I've been doing?" he snaps. "Waiting around for you to tell me that the answer is to try? I'm not dumb, Greg! I don't need you talking down to me."

"Look, I--" He cuts himself off before he can snap back, and rubs at a temple. "No. Yeah. That was stupid. You wouldn't be here if you weren't trying."

He sighs, and shakes his head. "Sorry. I don't have any answers or whatever. I'm just spouting off anything that I think might help, and hoping something sticks. I'll shut up."

It's a relief that Greg backs down as quickly as he does. If they'd gotten into an argument on the subject, Tiger almost certainly would have gotten too pissed off to keep feeling like letting Greg hang around was worth it. He's confused enough about what he's doing here as it is.

They were seriously hugging like a minute ago, and he still can't really process how. He shrinks down a little, wary now that he's managing to pull himself together enough that he can think. He fidgets with his hands - he's still super tense, and his eyes are still red and wet.

"You don't even...you don't know what's going on. With me." He looks away, sounding more distant. "It's not even worth...hearing about, anyway."

Rubbing at an eye under the fake glasses, Greg can't help but think of that conversation with Luce. About him, and about Tiger. He's been trying to brush it all off as completely silly, but... but.

In the beginning, Tiger had just been an interesting kid; weird, a little obnoxious, but someone worth keeping an eye out for. Greg's not sure when, but at some point, the teen had become someone he really cares about, and someone he's deeply afraid for.

"Well, you're right about that. I don't know what's on your mind." He had ideas, but... "If it's bothering you, though, then it's important enough to listen to."

The teens behaviour continues to be erratic - shifting between moods, and jumping between trains of thought. His emotions are sharp and electric, and ready to change directions on the spot - he can't even think straight, and he hasn't been able to for hours now. If he had, he would have been smart enough to never bother leaving his room.

His composure cracks again, and one can almost see the exact ways that assertion seems to set off a burst of conflict inside of him.

"Why are you even talking to me?" he cries, grabbing at his hair. "Why do you keep - augh!"

He wheels around and kicks a garbage can, but not hard enough to actually knock it over. Tiger doesn't actually have the most weight behind him.

He'd like to say all sorts of things, things that let Tiger know how much he cares, how this shouldn't even be a question that the teen has to ask. Unfortunately, Greg gets the feeling it all would set him off even worse.

Greg scratches at his scalp, and gives a small shrug. "Guess I'm just a jerk like that."

His hands shift down so he's hugging himself, and though the violent part of the outburst seems to have stopped, he keeps himself facing away from Greg as he feels himself shiver.

"I'm not even..."

It gets stuck in his throat, like the arrogant part of his nature, the defensive, can't bring himself to say it. By now, though, there's enough of him to fight that confidence that it slips out anyway.

"I'm not a good person," he says, miserably. "They wouldn't even have to miss me if I died."

A stretch of silence falls between them. Before this point, Greg had been making a lot of assumptions about what was going on. Pressure, stress, alienation, exhaustion, lack of boundaries or care--things expected in the sort of environments the two of them were caught up in, and not good for a kid's mental health.

He knows about the reputation Pride has, but until now he's been willing to give the benefit of the doubt and file it away as rumors. Even if that all is true, they wouldn't wrap up a kid in any of that stuff. Obviously.

When Greg speaks, his voice is far less even than it's been throughout the night.

"Did they--did someone say that to you?"

Edited 2015-10-29 06:29 (UTC)

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