He comes in later than usual. He's been trying to clear his head, had to stay away, wanted to keep this conversation off until he was in a better mood for it, and he can't say he is in a better mood. But what else is he supposed to do, stay away for the rest of the day?
Malcolm looks tired when he comes through the door, shrugging off his coat. Barely gives York a second look.
It's a hell of a lot different from the last time. There's no standing embrace, no warm feelings, no slow smile. No food on the way either. York doesn't think he can eat. He's not sure he can do much to call attention to himself either but- this talk needs to happen. "...hey Mal."
"Sober now, are we?" He doesn't really look at York, breezing past. Maybe some hot, soothing tea will calm him down after his eventful walk. "Time at Whiskey's do you some good?"
He's trying not to be upset before this even begins, but his emotions seem jumbled up already, and it's not even mostly York's fault. Maybe this is a bad time to do this? He fills the kettle and puts it on, rummaging about for which tea he feels like will be best at soothing and not for throwing across the room. When he's finally set that up, he turns to York, trying to keep a neutral face.
"I was drunk the first time I was with them. We weren't even together yet but that sort of started everything for the rest of it. The night of the solstice, you know? Afterward I wrote it off as a one time thing and settled into pining for you again." His eyes flick back up to Malcolm for a second, searching, before falling to find whatever he'd been looking for and flicking back down. "The second time I was with one of them was new years eve. After the night with north were things went sour. I was drunk and angry and didn't honestly go there intending to do what I ended up doing but things transpired."
Which is aboutdout as vague as he could ever get ever and it might not be fair to Malcolm but he doesn't need to damn anyone else with this. It's all on him.
"At first it was just fucking around and that is shitty, I got no illusions about that. It felt nice to be wanted, not that you don't you just- I never wanted to pressure you into something you weren't ready for." Which is no fucking excuse and this is about where the walkthrough with the doc feel apart. "The loving them thing snuck up on me. They know about you. They don't mind. They also thought is was really fucking dumb of me not to say anything."
The more vague York is, the more upset he is. The angrier. He crosses his arms, standing there, listening, waiting for the kettle to boil. "Who are they?"
"You're in love with Delta," he starts, seething, "and Loki? And I don't even know who Jack is. Is North part of this, too? Do you just have some little--some little harem that you decided I was never to know about?"
There it is. There's the anger and it's the first reaction that's made and sense all goddamn day. It's almost a relief. York's eyes slip closed, head bowed. "...yes."
His voice is quiet, small, and he never should've tried this in the first place. This was never a good idea, any of it.
"Jack- foxtrot. North-" he flinches at the memory of their after talk. "North isn't a part of it."
"You thought you were in love and slept with him!" Sure, he wasn't the best boyfriend--but the thought slips away as quickly as it came, forgotten, and despite his fury, he settles some, looking more grumpy than infuriated instead. He's uncomfortable in his own body, not sure what all his emotions are doing. He wants to be angry. he has to be angry. "And you weren't even going to tell me to begin with, but you got drunk."
"I was. About north, I just hadn't seen you yet and I was angry and I went out instead of trying to find you." Even then he probably wouldn't have tried too hard. "...fuck, I owe him am apology too."
"I didn't know how to say it. That's no reason to not, I should've tried. It's not their fault, mal, this is all on me being..." greedy? Selfish? Too easily enamored? "A fuckup."
"You said they knew and were okay with it." They also said he was a dumbass to not tell Malcolm. That doesn't seem like the point. "No wonder Delta wasn't jealous. He didn't need to be. He was already with you."
"I don't understand. You need to explain this in a way that makes sense. You were sleeping with them before we got together, then we got together, then you loved them and continued to see them, is that what you're saying?" He huffs out a sigh like he's letting go of some of the anger instead of increasing it. Even though he's so, so angry.
"If it made sense I would've told you when it started." But it didn't. It still doesn't and York is not a man prone to shame our regret but he's feeling both quite keenly at the moment. "I don't know. Maybe I don't love them. Maybe I don't love you maybe I'm just fucked up and lonely and clinging to anyone that'll have me or- I don't know. None of it feels the same."
It was easier to think he loved them before the thing with north. Now? Now he's not sure.
"Maybe, I said maybe." He snaps his head up to look directly at Malcolm for the first time, his eye red, the bionic replacement a perfect white. He fades to reach a tentative hand out, catching himself at the last second bake he made contact. "Because even if it wasn't real the thing with north felt different. Like I couldn't breathe without him. Like he was everything. And I always thought- I thought that's how it is with you. And it is but it's not as...overwhelming. that's probably healthier for us both.It's kind of frightening now that I think of it."
Maybe he's to bitter. Maybe he's too tired, too scared. "I do love you. I just don't know why it feels so different. But I don't love you any less. I promise."
"You love me, just not as much as you loved him. You love me like you love Loki, and Delta, and Foxtrot, but not like North. A different kind of love. A love that isn't...intense."
He can't. He can't look at York, turns away. He's angry but not angry, just...everything that feels like he should be sad, upset, in tears even, is replaced instead by...none of that. Replaced by something less than that. Something calmer. Telling him to instead be angry at York. Something doesn't feel right.
"So I'm no different than the others. We're all on the same level. But they all knew about each other, and you decided to keep it from me instead of talking to me about it. Treated me like I was special."
"Because you are. Delta, jack and lkoi could never talk to me again and it'd be awful but as long as you can still stand me I'll live happy. If I fuck this up..." Malcolm had always been special in how York looked to him, treated him. He's not the same kind of blind spot for him that delta is, but there's a lot he doesn't think about or overthinks when it comes to him. He takes a moment to breathe, to state down at his hands and catch what he's actually doing finally. Jesus.
"I'm terrified of ruining this, but not near as afraid of this working. I- I don't think I deserve good things on my life, mal, and you're one of the best things I've ever had happen to me." He huffs a soft, bitter laugh. "So I'm shooting myself in the foot every chance I get."
But he doesn't. He doesn't anymore. But he used to, didn't he? Something like a smile actually reaches his face. "We're good together. I try to be good to you."
But then York turns around and does all of this, waits forever to tell him. If this fails, he'll have succeeded in shooting himself in the foot. "What makes me different? You love those three, but then I'm on another level, and then North is--was--on another level? And what about Clair? Where does she fall in this spectrum of yours?"
"You've never hurt me like this. Not on purpose." He has to own up to the fact that he has to have hurt Malcolm badly in all this. Groveling can come later, honesty comes now.
"You are, mal. So good to me. Better than I deserve." That's obvious by how mal is at least taking to him instead of letting him pack and run like he would have otherwise. "I don't know about North. That wasn't me. It was someone I could have been but wasn't and saying something like that was a bullet to the foot. A subconscious attempt to fuck this up."
Bless the good sense he had to talk this through with his therapist first. He doubles back, takes a slow breath, and offers Malcolm his hand. "I can't trust anything about what I might think or feel about her, or what she might feel about me. I kept seeing- and she felt a life where she left the project with me. We ran away and started a family and seeing that had us both a little fucked up."
Good there's just so much all fucked up in his head, he doesn't know where to start.
"You're different because you have never wanted or expected anything from me but honesty and decency. I haven't always delivered, I know. But I want to keep trying." He swallows. "For you. Because you honestly make me happy, no strings attached. Because it's not stilted with us- we're on even ground. When I'm not being a shit. And I'm so sorry for trying to make it hard."
He doesn't know how to feel about that. Does York mean he's been trying to hurt him on purpose? Where do he and Carolina stand, exactly?
Malcolm looks at the offered hand but certainly doesn't take it. "So everyone else, they expected something else from you. They expected something else, and you still loved them for it. Love them. But they don't make you happy? How can you love anyone that doesn't make you happy?"
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Day 157 Evening
Malcolm looks tired when he comes through the door, shrugging off his coat. Barely gives York a second look.
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"Speak."
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Which is aboutdout as vague as he could ever get ever and it might not be fair to Malcolm but he doesn't need to damn anyone else with this. It's all on him.
"At first it was just fucking around and that is shitty, I got no illusions about that. It felt nice to be wanted, not that you don't you just- I never wanted to pressure you into something you weren't ready for." Which is no fucking excuse and this is about where the walkthrough with the doc feel apart. "The loving them thing snuck up on me. They know about you. They don't mind. They also thought is was really fucking dumb of me not to say anything."
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His voice is quiet, small, and he never should've tried this in the first place. This was never a good idea, any of it.
"Jack- foxtrot. North-" he flinches at the memory of their after talk. "North isn't a part of it."
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That works.
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It was easier to think he loved them before the thing with north. Now? Now he's not sure.
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Maybe he's to bitter. Maybe he's too tired, too scared. "I do love you. I just don't know why it feels so different. But I don't love you any less. I promise."
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He can't. He can't look at York, turns away. He's angry but not angry, just...everything that feels like he should be sad, upset, in tears even, is replaced instead by...none of that. Replaced by something less than that. Something calmer. Telling him to instead be angry at York. Something doesn't feel right.
"So I'm no different than the others. We're all on the same level. But they all knew about each other, and you decided to keep it from me instead of talking to me about it. Treated me like I was special."
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"I'm terrified of ruining this, but not near as afraid of this working. I- I don't think I deserve good things on my life, mal, and you're one of the best things I've ever had happen to me." He huffs a soft, bitter laugh. "So I'm shooting myself in the foot every chance I get."
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But he doesn't. He doesn't anymore. But he used to, didn't he? Something like a smile actually reaches his face. "We're good together. I try to be good to you."
But then York turns around and does all of this, waits forever to tell him. If this fails, he'll have succeeded in shooting himself in the foot. "What makes me different? You love those three, but then I'm on another level, and then North is--was--on another level? And what about Clair? Where does she fall in this spectrum of yours?"
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"You are, mal. So good to me. Better than I deserve." That's obvious by how mal is at least taking to him instead of letting him pack and run like he would have otherwise. "I don't know about North. That wasn't me. It was someone I could have been but wasn't and saying something like that was a bullet to the foot. A subconscious attempt to fuck this up."
Bless the good sense he had to talk this through with his therapist first. He doubles back, takes a slow breath, and offers Malcolm his hand. "I can't trust anything about what I might think or feel about her, or what she might feel about me. I kept seeing- and she felt a life where she left the project with me. We ran away and started a family and seeing that had us both a little fucked up."
Good there's just so much all fucked up in his head, he doesn't know where to start.
"You're different because you have never wanted or expected anything from me but honesty and decency. I haven't always delivered, I know. But I want to keep trying." He swallows. "For you. Because you honestly make me happy, no strings attached. Because it's not stilted with us- we're on even ground. When I'm not being a shit. And I'm so sorry for trying to make it hard."
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Malcolm looks at the offered hand but certainly doesn't take it. "So everyone else, they expected something else from you. They expected something else, and you still loved them for it. Love them. But they don't make you happy? How can you love anyone that doesn't make you happy?"
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