My window's painted shut

[panspermia]

Who: Greg Universe and OPEN
What: You gotta appreciate the little things when you've made it big
When: Late March
Where: Various Places Around Vista City
Warnings: nah

A. OPEN

It's been a while since Greg's hung around in the Virgo common spaces; he often holes himself up in the Virgo penthouse, but he's trying to get himself back in the songwriting groove with different workspaces than his room. He hasn't been nearly as productive lately--his career and band is the last truly solid thing he feels like he can protect, so he can't keep letting himself wallow.

Piles of crumpled paper strewn around him are a good indicator of how that's turning out. Greg raps his pen rapidly against his notebook, frustrated and tired. Everything feels stilted and forced. Why is it suddenly so hard to feel passionate about things?

B. OPEN

When it comes to museums, Greg prefers natural history over art, but the public archives in the lower levels of Virgo are pretty pleasant to hang around and people watch. He appreciates the displays of musical history as something largely separate from everything else here.

He might be appreciating it a little loudly. Sorry, he has trouble not air guitaring or humming along when he's got headphones on. Like this is a music museum, it's okay to be loud here, right? Yeah?

C. OPEN

With the first days of spring, Vista has gotten its first real bouts of warm weather in months. Even with the ground still wet from rain, people are laying down blankets in the park to enjoy the sun. Some people might find the pleasant atmosphere marred by the small crowd of birds flocking a nearby bench, pigeons and seagulls impatiently harassing its occupant.

"I've only got so much popcorn, guys," Greg insists to birds who neither comprehend nor care. He thought throwing out a few kernels was harmless, and now he's got some type of feathered mafia glaring him down. A seagull gives an impatient squawk, flapping its wings by way of threat. "Geez! All right, all right!" He tosses out another handful, sending them into yet another flurry. He is trapped. There is no escape.

D. Closed to Pinkie

Greg doesn't drink a whole lot nowadays, but this place has good bar food, and private booths to talk. Given a few hours later at night, this would have been the sort of party place the two of them would have usually run into each other, last summer. He only just realized how long it's been since they got to talk in person.

Comments

[panspermia]

[ Again, Greg nods, eyes downcast.]

I'm sorry, Meril. I didn't mean to make you worry, I wanted to tell you everything, it just... never felt like the right time.

[ Still his head throbs, pressing against the back of his eyes.] It feels like I can't think straight.

[nibelungvalesti]

[She has it better. She was drugged after the TV show, her resistance has waned somewhat. So she reaches out with her free hand to catch his chin and lift his head so he has to look at her.]

Then allow me to speak, for now. Greg... we are in this together. You and I, and those we care about. I do not ask you to not care... I do not ask you to not worry.

What I ask is for you to stand by my side, to the best of your ability.

[panspermia]

[ She makes sure he's watching her face, seeing her quiet strength and certainty in asking for something that should seem so obvious and simple, yet he's been struggling with all this time.

Suddenly, Greg can feel all that bone-deep exhaustion that's been weighing on him since February, and even further back. His shoulders slump, eyes welling. He hadn't even realized how much he had been holding back. Greg grips Meril's hand tightly. ]

I don't know... I don't know if I can. [His voice shakes with effort.] I'm so tired, Meril.

[nibelungvalesti]

[Meril laughs, a low and smoky sound as she wraps her arm around him to pull him close.]

Greg, dear Greg. Think about it. You can't stand behind us, because you won't ever let yourself be protected like that. We don't wish you to stand in front of us, because WE don't wish to be protected like that. So stand with us, and get through this with us. I will be your strength, as you are mine. Together.

[panspermia]

[ Greg takes a breath--an uneven, shuddering sound--and rests his forehead on hers. His arms loosely wrap around Meril; she's his anchor, once again.

He doesn't want to lose her. He'll fight Blanche if he can, but he's not strong enough. He needs her. The last thing he ever wants is to let her down.

It's too hard to get the words out as he chokes back tears. For the moment, Greg just holds her, wills himself to believe he's capable of being beside her. ]

[nibelungvalesti]

[She strokes his back gently, fingers tracing through his hair. He has that strength and she knows it. The question is whether he can find it.]

I love you, Greg. If you know nothing else, know that.

[panspermia]

[ For a minute, Greg remains silent, taking comfort in her presence and warmth. Slowly, he pulls himself back together. His head lifts slightly, but still pressed to hers. ]

I know that. I know. [He hiccups something like a laugh. ] You might wanna hit me if you catch me trying to do it alone again. I don't know what got into me. [ Blanche. ]

[nibelungvalesti]

I will scold you, maybe. And I am not going anywhere. [She gives the hand she still holds a squeeze.] I will be your strength, and you will be my magic.

[panspermia]

[ She hasn't gone anywhere, this whole time. Shouldn't that be proof enough? Greg's breathing starts to even out again. He's not strong enough, but she's more than enough for the both of them. ] I can do that. [ The hand around her back pulls her a little closer. ] We can do that.

[nibelungvalesti]

We can. We have. And we will continue to. [She laughs, her breath warm against his skin as she does.] After all, do we not make beautiful music together?