[There's more spamming, just her name again and again against a blank wall of a response. He transitions through stages of frustration to idle boredom (or is it the other way around?) and throws in a few memes to no avail. It's maybe a bit selfish that the reason he wanted to reach out initially was to help him with something opposed to apologizing, but it all fades away as for a while the texts from him die off.
He spent time in the auction room. He spent time taking food off of people's plates, drinking champagne and maybe even being on stage once or twice. He watched a movie with crumpled bunny ears next to him and Harry at his side, telling him he has to stop pushing people away and trust them if he wants them to get to know him. And he spent a lot of time frustrated over that, unable to yap at his sister about it - she isn't his sister, he remembers for the nth time - he doesn't have one. Just like he doesn't have parents, like this place reminded him.
Two portraits on the wall, frozen in time. Devon spent a lot of his own time standing there in the middle, equally frozen in place. And then he spent a bit of time mentally spiraling, trying to find balance by pacing, smoking, snorting and even praying. But he ends up at her room, standing in front of her door, in a longsleeve shirt and lounge pants, pink flip flops and ruffled hair. There is something about his eyes that might give off the impression they were wet recently.
He knocks on her door. Then tries the handle. Doesn't sound like anyone's fucking on the other side, so it's probably fine? Even if she's not there, he'll squirm his way into Thellar's guest room for a sense of security that only comes from being near her. Smelling her perfume, seeing her clothes. And, ideally, seeing her.]
[ She's in the bathroom finishing up her makeup when she hears the door open — the guest side, so it's probably not Theo, unless he's bringing back a friend-slash-lover-slash-hookup — and walks over to peek inside the guest room just to make sure. It's Devon's curls she sees instead, and her expression drops to something a lot less friendly, though her annoyance is more out of stubbornness by now. She steps out, arms crossed, ready to reprimand him, lips parted when she spots something different in his eyes. Her frown shifts to uncertainty - and concern. ]
[Voice softer, gaze lowered. Maybe from this angle it might seem more like he's just here to apologize now because he's lonely and wants to fix things but that's precisely the truth. Layered on top of that are a lot of other things, including a reminder that nothing in life is guaranteed (not even 100 year contracts) and that he's not sure what he'd do if he legitimately lost people he's grown close to. He didn't like today's feelings having nowhere to go, words threatening to bounce back at him if he sent them her way.]
I'm sorry.
[Please let me back in. Please let me back in. Please don't disappear.]
[ It's not how she expected it to go. There should be bickering, Devon using every silly argument instead of the two words she was asking for, but I'm sorry just rolls off his tongue without any of that other stuff getting in the way. Maybe she doesn't know Devon as well as she thought, or maybe she knows him enough to feel that something's wrong. Any reluctance on her part barely affects her expression, thinking about walking over for a few seconds before doing just that. Her hand is on Devon's head, fingers in his hair, scratching lightly. ]
[Her hand is in his hair and contact is... nice. He doesn't swat it away, doesn't even lean into it, he's just grateful for it? He takes his sweet time bringing his gaze around, looking up at her, a little anxious in his gaze. If he has a hard time letting people in on a good day, how exactly is he supposed to spill that this is one of the bad ones?]
[He moves with her, sitting and sloping toward her. He knows he's dragged this out a bit- which makes him all the more reluctant to peel away a stubborn outer layer. He owes her a better apology, something more normal from him accompanying it like - a teasing smile, a promise to make it up to her. Instead he's just... quiet.
His arms slink around her in a hug and he buries his face against her chest. (Above the breastline, the biggest hint this is legit.)]
[ Murmured into his hair, patient but - wanting to know what's going on. Devon doesn't get emotionally hurt often, and when he does, he... has different coping mechanisms that don't involve being vulnerable in front of other people.
It kind of reminds her of June. The bond they had, where Mila was the person Kieran went to when there was no one else. (And she liked that, selfishly, being the person he turned to for support. A brother and sister that took things too far but genuinely loved each other.) ]
You can talk to me if you want to. I'm not mad at you.
[He's still for a moment, then he sniffs softly, trying to disguise it before he speaks. Devon's head doesn't move, so his words are a bit muffled against her, still soft and just above a whisper but a little bit hard still to hear:]
Promise you'll always be my- my family?
[Left field, hello, we're coming in from out here but it all connects. Promise.]
I don't like not being able to talk- to talk to you. Not when it's, it's the one thing I wanna do. I'm getting sick of this fucking place an' all the bullshit.
[A huff. A sniff. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.]
I don't want anything to happen to you. Or Neon or. Or even - fucking Saber.
[He flops, staying close to her - reminiscent of the nights when they were siblings. Those days and these aren't that different, not any farther linked, but he still yearns for that official vibe. He breathes in deep, letting out a sigh.]
Harry said I push people away an' I know. I don't know how not to be like that.
[This feels like the conversation he had with Harry and it's funny how he's had it with two separate people and how much of it is the same. And yet there are parts unique to both of them, ways he opens up - he doesn't want to disappoint Harry, he enjoys his praise and adoration, he wants to be respected by him and improve himself. But with Cellar, the first thing he thinks is:]
What if people won't like who I am on the inside?
[- he shares his insecurities; his defeatism. He wonders what her response will be and much like with Harry, though, he doesn't fear judgment. And he's eager for her opinion. Her view.]
Then they suck and they don't deserve your time anyway. You find people who do like who you are and keep them close.
[ An arm rests on his waist, kind of a hug. ]
I know what it's like, okay? Opening up to someone and then they just - don't wanna be with you or they already decided they hated you a long time ago. It fucking sucks, but that's how you learn who's really worth it. Who wants to be around you, rather than the version of you that's just trying to please them. Besides, it's gotta be exhausting, right?
I don't even know who I'm supposed to be on the inside.
[He thinks he's pretty genuine, all things considered. A lot of his core being is what it is - but the idiocy, the recklessness, those are all the barriers at rise up to protect the few parts that don't get seen often. The part that prays to a God it doesn't believe in. The part that cries over two people he barely remembers. The part that still hurts from being rejected over and over again from blood relatives, only for one to take him in and make him happy... only to die.]
When my parents died, nobody wanted to take me in. I was like this political bomb, a sob story that nobody wanted to wring out. My aunt took me in, great aunt actually- but only after nobody else stepped up. She was like, a hundred, too.
[Not quite.]
When she died is when I signed the pact. 'Cause there wasn't anyone or anything left for me, so why not? But now- now it's all weird and complicated. I don't know how to be anything different from who I was an' do you think...
[...]
Do you think I'm stuck? The way I was when I signed. For like, forever.
[ She listens, she nods. She feels sympathetic for his parents' fate and disappointed that a whole family wanted nothing to do with an orphan. They essentially taught a child that 'alone' was the default way to be. That he had to earn having people in his life. ]
I think... you'd be stuck if you didn't realize that you were stuck. [ If that makes sense. ] We've all got the chance to grow and change. For the worse, for the better... I think that's up to you, for the most part. Personally I'd like it if you were happy, though.
[With Ren, with Harry - these different relationships that keep piling up. He wouldn't have had these before, maybe not ever in the way they happened here. He thinks about how even going with Dom on a date kind of hit different, and how what used to be sort of scary is actually not that bad. He's quiet for a long beat.]
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He spent time in the auction room. He spent time taking food off of people's plates, drinking champagne and maybe even being on stage once or twice. He watched a movie with crumpled bunny ears next to him and Harry at his side, telling him he has to stop pushing people away and trust them if he wants them to get to know him. And he spent a lot of time frustrated over that, unable to yap at his sister about it - she isn't his sister, he remembers for the nth time - he doesn't have one. Just like he doesn't have parents, like this place reminded him.
Two portraits on the wall, frozen in time. Devon spent a lot of his own time standing there in the middle, equally frozen in place. And then he spent a bit of time mentally spiraling, trying to find balance by pacing, smoking, snorting and even praying. But he ends up at her room, standing in front of her door, in a longsleeve shirt and lounge pants, pink flip flops and ruffled hair. There is something about his eyes that might give off the impression they were wet recently.
He knocks on her door. Then tries the handle. Doesn't sound like anyone's fucking on the other side, so it's probably fine? Even if she's not there, he'll squirm his way into Thellar's guest room for a sense of security that only comes from being near her. Smelling her perfume, seeing her clothes. And, ideally, seeing her.]
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Devon?
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[Voice softer, gaze lowered. Maybe from this angle it might seem more like he's just here to apologize now because he's lonely and wants to fix things but that's precisely the truth. Layered on top of that are a lot of other things, including a reminder that nothing in life is guaranteed (not even 100 year contracts) and that he's not sure what he'd do if he legitimately lost people he's grown close to. He didn't like today's feelings having nowhere to go, words threatening to bounce back at him if he sent them her way.]
I'm sorry.
[Please let me back in. Please let me back in. Please don't disappear.]
For what I said.
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I appreciate that, scrungly. Are you okay?
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Yeah.
[Her hand is in his hair and contact is... nice. He doesn't swat it away, doesn't even lean into it, he's just grateful for it? He takes his sweet time bringing his gaze around, looking up at her, a little anxious in his gaze. If he has a hard time letting people in on a good day, how exactly is he supposed to spill that this is one of the bad ones?]
Can... Can I stay in here a while?
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Yeah, of course. C'mere.
[ Taking his hand next, she guides him to bed, sitting by his side. She hugs him like that, one arm around his back, the other over his stomach. ]
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His arms slink around her in a hug and he buries his face against her chest. (Above the breastline, the biggest hint this is legit.)]
Pleas-
["Please", what?]
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[ Murmured into his hair, patient but - wanting to know what's going on. Devon doesn't get emotionally hurt often, and when he does, he... has different coping mechanisms that don't involve being vulnerable in front of other people.
It kind of reminds her of June. The bond they had, where Mila was the person Kieran went to when there was no one else. (And she liked that, selfishly, being the person he turned to for support. A brother and sister that took things too far but genuinely loved each other.) ]
You can talk to me if you want to. I'm not mad at you.
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Promise you'll always be my- my family?
[Left field, hello, we're coming in from out here but it all connects. Promise.]
Please.
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[ No hesitation, followed by a kiss to the top of his head. ]
Okay? It's you and me.
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I don't like not being able to talk- to talk to you. Not when it's, it's the one thing I wanna do. I'm getting sick of this fucking place an' all the bullshit.
[A huff. A sniff. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.]
I don't want anything to happen to you. Or Neon or. Or even - fucking Saber.
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[ She nudges him to lie down with her, middle of the bed, heads on the pillows. Cupping his cheek, she brushes her thumb back and forth. ]
Wanna cuddle for a bit?
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Harry said I push people away an' I know. I don't know how not to be like that.
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Maybe it's not a matter of pushing people away. Maybe what you wanna figure out is how to let them in.
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What if people won't like who I am on the inside?
[- he shares his insecurities; his defeatism. He wonders what her response will be and much like with Harry, though, he doesn't fear judgment. And he's eager for her opinion. Her view.]
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[ An arm rests on his waist, kind of a hug. ]
I know what it's like, okay? Opening up to someone and then they just - don't wanna be with you or they already decided they hated you a long time ago. It fucking sucks, but that's how you learn who's really worth it. Who wants to be around you, rather than the version of you that's just trying to please them. Besides, it's gotta be exhausting, right?
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[He thinks he's pretty genuine, all things considered. A lot of his core being is what it is - but the idiocy, the recklessness, those are all the barriers at rise up to protect the few parts that don't get seen often. The part that prays to a God it doesn't believe in. The part that cries over two people he barely remembers. The part that still hurts from being rejected over and over again from blood relatives, only for one to take him in and make him happy... only to die.]
When my parents died, nobody wanted to take me in. I was like this political bomb, a sob story that nobody wanted to wring out. My aunt took me in, great aunt actually- but only after nobody else stepped up. She was like, a hundred, too.
[Not quite.]
When she died is when I signed the pact. 'Cause there wasn't anyone or anything left for me, so why not? But now- now it's all weird and complicated. I don't know how to be anything different from who I was an' do you think...
[...]
Do you think I'm stuck? The way I was when I signed. For like, forever.
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I think... you'd be stuck if you didn't realize that you were stuck. [ If that makes sense. ] We've all got the chance to grow and change. For the worse, for the better... I think that's up to you, for the most part. Personally I'd like it if you were happy, though.
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[With Ren, with Harry - these different relationships that keep piling up. He wouldn't have had these before, maybe not ever in the way they happened here. He thinks about how even going with Dom on a date kind of hit different, and how what used to be sort of scary is actually not that bad. He's quiet for a long beat.]
You don't remember your wish, do you?
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No. Do you?
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