goddamngrenades | Voicemail 2.0

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voicemail

Voicemail 2.0

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Ma had a lot of candy when she was pregnant with me. Or, well, so she said." He slips a hand free from Mal's and cradles his other cheek, framing his face easily. "You're not always miserable. or maligned. It's just been a shit coupla months."

"Moment of weakness. I'm very tired." Tired. It's all come to a head, a last straw. "Guess," he says, clearing his throat, "I should probably go find someone...professional to talk to. Like you've suggested. Before I do anything we'll both regret. Anything else."

"I think...that's a good idea. I can find you a number if you need a referral." His doc wouldn't- it wouldn't be the best idea. "As for the tired...maybe we should spend a few days somewhere nice? somewhere not home. With a big jacuzzi tub and room service."

"People who start seriously contemplating suicide should probably have professional help." He says it straight, somewhat clinical. That way it doesn't sound so close. It doesn't sound like the howl of emotions inside. It sounds like it's happening to someone else.

Spending time somewhere in with all the nice amenities tight and quiet with his boyfriend. He supposes he can't say no. "What use does a closed off city have for a hotel?" But that's beside the point. "Okay. A few days for us. To settle and relax and...forget. A bit." He licks his lips. "North should know. If we're going to get the kitchen fixed. That the kitchen is a mess right now."

"Yeah well you know me. I don't like to push." Clinging still and he wants- everything in him wants to lean in that last little bit and kiss Mal. Give him that connection, that comfort. The rest of him has no fucking idea if that's going to help or not, if it's welcome or not.

"I'll have the nurses leave him a note. He's still out cold." No change on that yet. "I'll have a guy come over and clean up. So that it's not as awful."

All fixed up as best as they can manage. It's the least he could do.

"He might wake up." Any day now. Maybe. Malcolm closes his eyes, glad to have York's hands holding his face, that solid feel of him there.

"You did try to get me to before. And so did Whiskey. I just didn't think I needed it. I suppose that's no longer true." He'd like to stay. Just like this. "We should get out of here so they can use this room for someone else who's been waiting as long as we have." Now that a lot of that fountain of sadness has washed, he's a little more numb about it all. Doesn't really want to get up but can go through the motions. The motions of being. Kind of like a robot. They can comfort each other later. "I'll drop Carolina a line." A slightly frantic text, at least.

"I got an autocab on the way. You wanna pack something or just go straight to the hotel?" He may have had his eye on one for a rainy weekend but this- seems a bit more immediate. He stands slow, tugging on Malcolm's hands to bring him up alongside. Standing this close he can't...he loops his arms around Malcolm's shoulders and squeezes. Holds on for a long, long second.

"...Straight--right now?" His look is somewhat dazed, though leans into the touch. "I imagine we'll want to pack some of our things for a...short getaway."

"Whatever you want, Mal." And he means it. This'll be good for him but- Malcolm? Malcolm is who he's most concerned for.

"Then we're packing first. Clothes. Toiletries. Medications if need be. Your knitting." Who takes a trip without packing? Although, it does beg the thought: "Is this running away?"