testflight | MEADOW LARK 🛰 INBOX

[ larry doesn't actually know what his alcohol tolerance is these days. did the negative spirit affect it, before? it's not like he drank often to begin with; he still doesn't, know. but a beer sounds good right now.

so maine's got a beer in each hand and larry has a plant in each hand and somehow, they'll need to exchange those. ]

Let me just-

[ he sets both of the plants down on the nearest flat surface, fussing with them for a moment as much as one can fuss over plants, before turning back to maine. ]

Those are for you.

[ and his hands are free now for the beer.

one of the plants is a white and purple orchid, the other a spider plant. something colourful and something easy to take care of. ]

[ Another little smile steals across Maine's lips. Part amusement as they figure out how to juggle items, part pleasure at seeing the plants. They both have white, in stripes or in the flowers themselves, and he's glad that Larry remembered that.

He hands off one of the beers once Larry's hands are free. Then he turns his attention to the plants, studying them with his head tilted slightly to one side. ]

Thank you. [ That, first and foremost. Only then does he ask, ] What're they called?

No, thank you. [ seriously. but despite that, it isn't a real argument and there's obvious pleasure in larry's tone. ]

This one's an orchid. [ pointing at the one plant, then the other ] And this one's a spider plant. Chlorophytum comosum.

[ Although he doubts he'll ever use the plant's scientific name, Maine memorizes it all the same. However, he's more interested in the other one. Not because he likes it better, but because, ]

Your favorite. [ He reaches for the orchid but stops short of touching its petals. Seems like that would be a bad idea. Seems delicate. ] Right?

[ Unless Larry's favorite plants aren't orchids in general, but a specific type. ]

Yeah.

[ it's such a small thing, but — ] You remembered.

[ larry doesn't know why that hits him the way it does. maybe it is because of maine, tall and broad and with anger burning just beneath his skin, is so careful with the plant. ]

[ With his fingertips still hovering beside the orchid's fragile petals, Maine raises his eyes to look at Larry again. His expression is muted, as it almost always is, but he appears faintly curious. ]

Of course.

[ Larry told Maine one of his favorite things. Maine likes Larry, so he memorized the detail, tucking "orchids" away in his mind like intel gathered on a mission. To Maine, the fact that he remembers doesn't strike him as significant: it was just the thing to do.

Realizing that he's standing with a closed beer, Maine withdraws his hand, opens it, and then takes a swig. ]

Need attention, right?

[ Said as he tilts his head toward the orchid, indicating it without taking his eyes from Larry. ]

Yes. [ larry nods, busying himself with his own bear for a long moment, aware of maine's gaze on him and unsure whether he'd wish that maine would look away or keep looking.

(once upon a time, he'd have known the answer to that. before the accident, before he looked like this, like he does now, burnt and horrible, a monster on the outside as much as on the inside.) ]

They need a lot of humidity and water, but the soil shouldn't be too wet. It's- you can test with your finger or by lifting the pot to see how heavy it feels.

Oh, and no direct sunlight, but a lot of indirect light.

[ briefly, he thinks whether maybe that's why he likes orchids so much. they need light, but they can't be in it directly or they'll scorch. he feels like that sometimes, too. like getting too close to the sun (other people, life) will burn him.

maine is still looking at him and larry wishes —that he could hide. that he could look the way he used to, handsome on the outside at least. ]

[ Physical appearances mean very little to Maine. He can recognize beauty, sure, but that recognition tends to coincide with his feelings towards the person. If he likes someone, he usually finds something to catch his eye — but he doesn't have to. Shit, he dated someone who didn't have a body for months.

And because he likes Larry, Maine doesn't fixate on the scars. He just watches Larry's body language. Listens to Larry's words.

He gives a thoughtful hum, then looks back at the plants. Lots of humidity, water, indirect light… ]

Will find good spot. Near window, not on sill?

[ And he looks back to Larry, his head tilted questioningly. Does that sound right? ]

Near a window is good, just not next to a heater. [ do they still have heaters like that in the future? who knows.

physical appearances mean very little to maine, but they mean a lot to larry —appearances in general mean a lot to larry. for so long, he'd kept up appearances, knowing full well that he could lose everything the moment someone so much as looked too closely, the moment he could no longer maintain a perfect facade. maybe it was no wonder that it all came crumbling down around him.

appearances matter so much and maine is solid and strong and looking at larry, caring about plants because larry cares and —

larry wants, so badly, not to look the way he looks. not to be this scarred and broken creature he's become. (there's something else now, too, a slither of attraction curling low in his stomach.)

he wants— and for a moment, his chest flaring blue, his appearance changes. flickers, then settles, unscarred and undeniably handsome, a full head of brown hair, a little mussed. for a moment, he looks the way he used to.

it won't last, can't, but for a moment, it holds. ]

[ Physical appearances may mean very little to Maine, but he isn't blind. He doesn't miss the radical shift when Larry's chest glows. How could he? Scars give way to smooth skin, brown hair replaces the concealing cap, and suddenly, Larry looks like an entirely different person.

Maine twitches in surprise, his dark eyes wide. If he were a year younger and fresh from his universe, he would probably recoil in alarm — or worse, physically lash out. Thankfully, the blue glow clues Maine in; he doesn't react with violence. Instead, he merely stares, temporarily at a loss for words.

Attraction is a subjective thing, especially for someone like Maine. That said, Larry is sure as hell handsome. ]

… Neat power.

[ What else can he say, really? ]

[ for a moment —too long a moment, really—, larry is caught up in his thoughts, in his desire to look different. for a moment, he's caught up, but with maine reacting like that, the twitch of surprise and the widening of his eyes, the remark about power, it's impossible to stay ignorant that there's something going on.

plus, the glow is kind of a give-away.

larry glances down at himself, at his hands. unscarred skin. ]

What-

[ it flickers, scars coming to the forefront, panic surging up in larry. for a moment, it's just skin again, like any regular person —and then it's gone, the glow dying down, every scar visible again.

the breath larry lets out is shaking. he thinks his hands might be, too. ]

That's never happened before.

[ he looks at maine, wanting to hide, wanting to do it all over again, needing to know: ] You saw that, too, right?

[ The first time that Maine's power activated, he only realized it in retrospect. He'd been emotionally overwhelmed, stressed beyond his limits by a situation he didn't know how to handle. And so his power activated, freezing him in place until the source of his stress vanished. The next time his power activated was much the same. He was consumed by confusion and anger; his power turned it into mindless bloodlust — a desire to destroy that overrode all conscious thought. The time after that, his power caused him to flee, sprinting through New Amsterdam's streets while trying to escape the inescapable.

It wasn't until Maine's power forced him to attack one of his best friends that he started to figure it out. Wasn't until it consumed his mind again and again, forcing him to freeze, flee, or fight, that he began to make progress in controlling it. And the truth is, he still doesn't have full control of it. Still knows it's better to avoid situations that might push him over the edge. Still knows that it — that he — is more a threat than an asset.

So as he watches Larry's reaction to his power — the confusion, the panic, the disbelief — Maine finds himself uncomfortably conflicted. Part of him is sympathetic; part of him is wary; part of him is envious. He doesn't like it. Tries to shove his emotions aside, doing his best to focus on Larry instead of his own bullshit.

Larry asks a question; Maine nods an affirmative. Meets Larry's gaze without flinching, same as always. ]

Saw.

[ A verbal confirmation as well, just in case. ]

You okay? Didn't hurt?

[ larry doesn't know what maine's power is, what it is like —he could, perhaps, understand. it isn't so unlike the negative spirit, which left larry unconscious every time it broke out, did things that he had no control over. the negative spirit has a mind of his own, so it isn't the same thing, but somewhat comparable. maybe it would help to talk about it —but larry is far too shell-shocked and focused on what just happened to read anything into maine's expression or lack thereof, to dig deeper.

he probably wouldn't, even if he had an inkling of what is going on, not the kind to push.

he nods, then shakes his head, letting out a breath that's almost a laugh, although there's nothing funny about this. disbelief, more than anything. ]

What-

[ he's scared of the answer. he needs to know. ] What did it look like?

[ he can't see himself. he only knows his hands weren't scarred anymore. ]

Blue eyes. Brown hair. Handsome.

[ It's a pitiful description, and Maine knows it. He's never been able to paint a picture with words. Not verbally, not in text — it's just a skill that he lacks. Always has. Used to get him shitty grades from frustrated teachers who thought he needed "motivation." All the motivation in the world never made a difference.

Maine makes a face, annoyed with himself. He'd do better if asked to describe what an enemy compound looked like. As it is: ]

Not good description.

[ His tone is apologetic; he'd like to give Larry a better answer. But he doesn't immediately think to reach out and touch Larry's hand so he can share the memory. ]

It's-

[ it's not much of a description, but brown hair and blue eyes fits. handsome, too, although larry thinks perhaps it's arrogant of him to think that his former self looked handsome. then again, it isn't anything people hadn't told him then. fact more than anything.

he finds himself swaying a little, reaching for the kitchen counter to steady himself, to have something to lean against. ]

I was thinking about looking how I used to. Before the crash. That, I wanted that.

[ he wanted that so maine would think him handsome, at least in part, so that maine would at least not think him ugly and a monster. (maine has given no indication, at any point, of thinking these things. it's all larry. if he stopped to think, he might even realise as much.) ]

[ The question of why Larry wanted to look like he used to rises in Maine's mind, but Maine doesn't give it voice. Seems too personal. Too invasive. Too much right now, what with Larry steadying himself against the kitchen counter.

How long has it been since Larry's accident? Sixty years? Maine isn't a particularly empathetic person, but he realizes this must be a lot to take in. Realizes that Larry probably needs a minute to process.

He hums, his gaze dropping to Larry's beer. Then, in what's intended to be a helpful tone: ]

Want something stronger?

[ larry thinks about it for a moment. maine might not be a particularly empathetic person, but he still cares and larry's chest clenches with it, something painful and hopeful alike.

with feeling: ] Please.

[ Maine gives Larry a little smile that he hopes is reassuring. Then he turns to retrieve a bottle of whiskey from one of the top cabinets, along with two glasses.

Those two glasses are an invitation of sorts. A way of saying that Larry can hang out and drink with Maine for as long as he'd like. Maine doesn't need to be anywhere anytime soon; he's happy to keep Larry company. Happy to have Larry's company, too. ]

[ maine retrieves two glasses and a bottle and larry takes it as invitation (one he doesn't overthink only because his mind is elsewhere) to sink into a chair.

it isn't until maine has poured, until they've both taken a first sip, that he asks: ]

You think- it's my power?

[ Larry takes a seat, and Maine takes one opposite, only briefly fussing with how small the chair is compared to him. That's an old battle, though. An old irritation. He settles in and keeps his eyes on Larry as they both take a sip.

The question is an easy one to answer. Maine immediately nods. ]

Chest glowed. Weren't touching.

[ So, what else could it be? ]

Right, —right.

[ what else could it be. larry turns that over in his mind, except his mind doesn't quite want to work, doesn't quite know how to accept that.

his power's, what, looking like he used to?

it feels like a bad joke. it feels like the greatest present. he has no idea how to feel about it, actually.

so in the end, he downs his drink in one go and the sharpness of it helps a little. ]

Do you know what yours is?

[ Maine presses his lips together as he nods. He knows what activates it. Knows what it does to him. However, describing it is difficult. He tries anyway. ]

Activates when I'm pissed off. Upset. [ A more comfortable word to say than "grieving." ] Lose control. Start attacking. Or run, or freeze.

[ He makes a face. Takes a sip of his drink. ]

Can't predict which. Crapshoot.

[ larry makes a soft noise, sympathy more than anything. ]

It was a little like that with- [ he breaks off, gestures to his chest, then realises that maine'd probably take that to mean their powers here, not the negative spirit. ]

- the, uh, the thing that was inside me before. Every time he took control, I fainted. No control at all.

[ Maine makes a little noise in turn, a sound of acknowledgment and understanding. He can't imagine having to deal with that for sixty years. Shit, even a few months has been far too long for him.

After another sip, he asks, ]

How'd you deal?

[ larry lets out something that's almost a laugh, but not at all happy. ]

Badly. Not? I hated him and I hated myself and it was-

We figured it out eventually. Kind of. The more I accepted him, the more it became possible to control it.

MEADOW LARK 🛰 INBOX

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sorry for the long wait!

never apologise <3

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