noonelaughed: (Default)
Chris Miles ([personal profile] noonelaughed) wrote2011-12-04 02:40 pm

[dated to 12/1]

Chris is convinced that it isn't his fault. How the fuck was he supposed to know that the island was gonna change overnight. Okay, yeah so it'd snowed the year before, but that didn't mean that the same thing was gonna happen two years in a row. Things aren't even the same from week to week, so he can't be blamed for it, really. Maybe. If he'd gone home instead, things might've happened differently, but it's not as though Chris can change how things happened now.

Either way, it's alright now. That one girl'd led him to where the clinic was now, he'd been put under loads of blankets, had gotten new clothes— they were both mental and brilliant all at the same time, though the shirt had way too many buttons— and after a few hours, he feels almost normal. Jesus, they needed to like… warn people when stuff like this was gonna happen, so no one else was caught without their pants and trousers on a cobblestone bridge.
little_moons: (Cute.)

[personal profile] little_moons 2011-12-06 02:51 am (UTC)(link)
"So, I heard you froze your fuckin' nuts off. It true?" I ask with a smirk, sitting down on the edge of the the bed they've got him in.

He's buried under so many goddamn blankets, you can barely see him, but he looks pale and tired and even though I'm teasing him, I'm really fuckin' glad to see he's okay.
little_moons: (Default)

[personal profile] little_moons 2011-12-07 04:51 am (UTC)(link)
"Sorry, man. It's been happenin' so fuckin' long, I just kinda assumed everybody knew," I admit with a wince. There was enough talk about it at the council party, it seemed like the word was getting around.

"How long they makin' you stay?"

[identity profile] 2011-12-06 05:38 am (UTC)(link)
Cassie stands a long while in the doorway, the pink coat she'd been so pleased with this morning now forgotten, sagging in an armful that drifts low to the floor. It's hard to see him here. The candlelight is warmer and more forgiving then fluorescent, but Cassie can't trust it, can't be certain that there's not a pallor in his cheeks, that this is not, in fact, the beginning of another end.

She opens her mouth to speak, but comes inside instead, hovering in silence at the end of his bed.

[identity profile] 2011-12-07 12:19 am (UTC)(link)
"I suppose we're meant to remember," says Cassie, recalling their last, less transformative winter on the island. "I wouldn't have had it not been for Sirius."

Sitting herself by his feet, Cassie finds that she's very angry. Not with Chris; there's no part of her that believes he wants to kill himself, but the world's already claimed him once. She is not inclined to give him up a second time, nor does she have much forgiveness left for anything that would try. "Are you very hurt?"

[identity profile] 2011-12-14 09:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Cassie nods, turning her solemn gaze down at her hands. She's not brought him anything, no flowers or mechanical birds, nothing to comfort him, not even a coat. She's only brought herself, and Cassie isn't certain it will be enough.

"What are we to do with you, Chris?" she asks softly. "Life isn't very kind to you."

[identity profile] 2011-12-19 04:20 am (UTC)(link)
"You have to look after yourself," says Cassie, still quiet, but there's an intensity in her eyes that wasn't there before. "You have to try, because. Because I need you, Chris. You're my best mate, and, it's all right if I'm not yours, but I would very much like it if you didn't die again."
floozyfacade: (neutral, negative) sad (get too close to the flame)

[personal profile] floozyfacade 2011-12-06 10:25 pm (UTC)(link)
"Chris?" Olive's been having so much fun today that the news Chris is in the clinic pulled her up short, and all she could possibly do was head there right away. She's already explored a section of the city and her new home, dressed herself from head-to-toe in as accurate an outfit as she could manage for the mid-1830s (it seemed like her warmest option at the time), but it's mostly gone out of her head as she hurries across the clinic to his bedside. "Oh, my God, are you okay? What happened?"
floozyfacade: (neutral) (oh‚ no‚ you think you're special)

[personal profile] floozyfacade 2011-12-07 10:32 pm (UTC)(link)
"What was in my closet," Olive says, brow raising, though she smirks, more than willing to acknowledge she probably looks ridiculous. At least she's avoided hoop skirts, bustles and hems so narrow she can't walk in them (she has no idea what people were thinking for most of this century, honestly). It's still a lot of fabric, so she's kind of grateful to find a seat she can pull up alongside his bed. "Some of us were, you know, dressed this morning. Seriously, are you okay?"
floozyfacade: (neutral, negative) sad (it's only doubts that we're counting)

[personal profile] floozyfacade 2011-12-15 08:01 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh, God, good." Olive reaches over, hand resting on Chris's arm, still faintly worried in spite of what he's said. She still doesn't understand what he was doing out there, although it isn't like he could have known it would suddenly start snowing or anything like that. "And you know, I mean, if you want, you can stay with us? I just... you know, until you're steady on your feet and all. I'd hate to see you go home alone."
floozyfacade: (negative) worried (worried 'bout everyone but me)

[personal profile] floozyfacade 2011-12-20 10:49 pm (UTC)(link)
"Okay," Olive says, nodding. She doesn't want to push, after all, though she worries about him. It's just that so much of the time Chris is just Chris, floating along through this or that, and it's so, so easy to get caught up in the next shiny thing or odd thought with him that she winds up forgetting until later all the things she wants to ask, anything that might bother her. Right now, sitting next to him in the clinic, it's a lot harder to forget. "Yeah, of course. Just... you know, if you ever want to, our door's always open, you know? For anything."
regenerated: (it's invincible)

[personal profile] regenerated 2011-12-06 11:25 pm (UTC)(link)
It's just about the worst way to welcome in the season, Claire thinks to herself as she hovers outside of the room, peeking in through the door jarred open, hand wrapped tightly enough around the door frame that her knuckles turn a bright white at the force. And even though she knows that there's nothing really that she could have done about it, no way that she would have even known if not for the fact that she works at the police department and hears reports like these filter in all of the time, there's a hole in her stomach that twists. Should have mentioned the oncoming change. Even if it was just a drop in conversation, even if they haven't properly spoken in weeks, anything. Any mention of what they knew to happen every year on the island would have been... well, better than this.

But, whatever. It's too late now to go back, to reverse time, and so it's with a sigh that Claire pushes in at last, because it's not enough to see him from the door, to squint and hope that the easy rise and fall of his chest means a quick recovery. There's a scrape as she pulls a chair in close, next to his bed, and sits down with a silent stare.
regenerated: (will you leave them)

[personal profile] regenerated 2011-12-10 04:00 am (UTC)(link)
She's not here under any pretense. Whatever lies ahead, Claire can't even begin to see, nor does she care to— even as she glances up to meet a look of trepidation, perhaps, the only thing that she can think of is how fragile lives are. Maybe Chris doesn't think of it as such a big deal anymore, maybe being wrapped in warm covers is a lesson well enough learned and easily forgotten, but for this to hit him, of all people, at once makes her want to grab him by the shoulders and shake or to grip at him and never let go.

For the moment, she does neither of these things.

"How are you feeling?" she asks instead, quickly brushing away at a threatening tear with the heel of her palm, willing the flush in her cheeks to subside. "Can I get you anything, or...?"
regenerated: ('cause I'm gonna guess)

[personal profile] regenerated 2011-12-17 06:54 am (UTC)(link)
There's a small intake of breath, as though she means to speak up, call his attention back to her. But she doesn't. Instead, her gaze falls from his eyes to the ground, to the feeling of a wall standing between the two of them where there wasn't one before. It's probably too soon, she tells herself. No, it is too soon, she's sure of it, with the way that her heart still continues to thud against her chest, her lungs feeling as though they can't get a full breath of air. "I just wanted to see that you were okay," she says with a sigh, quietly enough in spite of the way that her hands grip at the armrests, knuckles turning white. She wants to ask why, if there's a reason that he stayed out on his own, without anyone to accompany him.

But maybe it isn't within her right to know.

"I guess... I guess I'll go, then," she adds with a slight nod, uncomfortable. "Just—"

Don't do that again. Let us help you. Remember that you've got people who love you. You know that, right?

"I'm sorry."
regenerated: (when they finally come)

[personal profile] regenerated 2011-12-22 11:52 pm (UTC)(link)
"Something... like that," she agrees, trying for a half-hearted grin, and finding that it freezes in place once their gazes meet again. There's no doubt in her mind that they need space, that revisiting a place so recently torn (and by her own hands, no less) isn't going to do either of them good. But there's a greater part of her that refuses to feel sorry for this, for needing to see him and check up on him, for needing to know that he's okay. Because regardless of whether or not they're in a relationship, she still cares, and with the type of love that just refuses to abandon. But she nods, standing from her chair.

Pressing her lips together, she freezes for a moment, then nods again. "Take care of yourself, okay?"
pointzerothree: (Default)

[personal profile] pointzerothree 2011-12-08 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
The change of the entire island was surprising enough, but somehow, Eduardo thinks that the news of Chris being in the clinic is even more so. At least the first is something he'll reluctantly admit to being kind of excited about, though he still doesn't quite understand where or when they're supposed to be. It wasn't snow clouds appearing out of nowhere, and that counts for a lot, plus the house and even some of the clothes are pretty great, if antiquated.

This is different. While he suspects that Olive either will or already has paid Chris a visit herself, he can't not go, and so it is that he makes his way over to the transported clinic (weird, but oddly fitting. He knew something would have happened to the Compound). "Hey, man," he says from the doorway, one corner of his mouth lifting in a faint, almost hopeful smile.
pointzerothree: (Default)

[personal profile] pointzerothree 2011-12-16 05:18 am (UTC)(link)
The first response that comes to mind, that he's fine but cold, is one that Eduardo bites back, fully recognizing how inappropriate it would be at a time like this. At least he's got layers of bizarre but not actually terrible Victorian clothing to help keep him warm. Nodding, he lets his smile grow a little, walking over to take a seat in the chair by the bed.

"Fine," he answers easily. "I'm not the one here in the clinic. How're you doing, man? Everything, you know, gonna be alright?" Prone as he is to worrying, that Chris doesn't seem too badly off right now has got to be a good sign, he thinks, and he's sure they would have heard if it were worse.
pointzerothree: (pic#1073739)

[personal profile] pointzerothree 2011-12-31 10:32 am (UTC)(link)
"Yeah, I think that's usually a good thing," Eduardo says with a nod, biting back a laugh. It could easily have been worse than losing toes, anyway, so all teasing aside, it's really something to be grateful for. He could ask what the hell Chris was doing out without clothes in the first place, but that part is not actually all that surprising; in the end, he's not sure there'd be a point. Expression growing marginally more earnest, he adds, "Seriously, I'm glad you're okay."

[identity profile] 2011-12-10 03:56 am (UTC)(link)
The whole day has been tits up from the first. Everything's changed, including and not limited to Maxxie's hair straightener, and he's spent most of the morning trying to wrap his head around being in London but not. He had just settled himself a bit, decided to have a bit of fun with the clothes box at least, when he'd gotten the word about Chris.

He storms into the clinic with all the fury that his lithe frame can manage, which isn't a lot but he uses it well enough. Maxxie snatches a pillow from one of the spare beds and doesn't stop until he's brought it down on Chris' head. "Wanker!"

There's a fine shake in his hands and his eyes are glassy as he sits down in a chair beside the bed. He brings the pillow as hard as he can against Chris' shoulder. "What the fuck."

[identity profile] 2011-12-14 11:17 pm (UTC)(link)
He pulls the pillow back to his chest, not hugging it exactly, but he holds on tight. "You've gotta tell people when you pull this shit, Chris. Bring someone with you. Or do something. Fucking prepare. What if you'd gotten lost? Or a boar or something had got you? What if--"

Lips pressed tight, Maxxie lifts the pillow up like he might hit him again, but only brings it down hard on his own lap.

[identity profile] 2011-12-15 02:08 am (UTC)(link)
"Well, promise you'll think next time," Maxxie demands, his voice tight and pathetic to his own ears.

They don't talk about it. They just don't. And maybe he's blowing it out of proportion. Chris is right there, in the bed, not a scratch on him and he's going to be fine. He's going to be absolutely fine. But Tony hasn't spoken to him in weeks and he only sees Effy in passing and he doesn't see Cassie as much as he should and the island can fuck it all up at any second. Can turn a perfectly normal -- by their standards -- trip into the woods into a death trap.

"I can't handle something happening to you again, Chris," he mumbles. Get the words out and get them out quick so they can ignore that he ever said them.
just_dance_it: (001)

[personal profile] just_dance_it 2011-12-28 05:53 am (UTC)(link)
It feels good for just a second to have it sit between them. To know they're both on the same page, thinking the same thing, acknowledging it. But that's about all of that reality that Maxxie can take.

Chris gets it. Time to move on.

Maxxie sniffs against mostly dry eyes and hits Chris in the thigh with his pillow now. It barely qualifies as a hit really, just a tap of fabric and stuffing against him. "Don't leave me out of your next trip, dude," he says, trying for a faint smile. "That's not cool."