In fact, he hadn't slept much since he'd been on the fucking island itself. Too many things gnawing at his conscience, picking at him like a vulture on carrion.
When was the last tim he had gotten a proper night's rest, anyway? Certainly not the night before Karina's. Fuck, he couldn't remember, couldn't remember a goddamn thing. It was all about the island now.
The island and Mr. Orange. Or whomever he was.
What time it was, he was unsure of. Glancing at his watch, which was still broken, he stepped into the kitchen and was faced with none other than Orange himself.
Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Freddy grunted slightly, not a rude greeting, but a lack of energy resulting in nothing else finding it's way past the lump in his throat. So many things said. So much still needing to be sorted out. It wasn't healthy. In fact, it was downright insane. There was nothing else to be said for it. He glanced up, quickly, hair hanging limply in his eyes before he turned his attention back downwards and he resisted the urge to slump down further over the coffee mug.
Quiet. Somewhat quiet. The Compound, as a general rule, was never actually quiet. The murmur of people talking, footsteps, the occasional baby crying. It was like a rec-center and an apartment building shoved into one. And despite the unedning amount of life in the place, not a single other person walked through that doorway after Larry. It was just the two of them, in a quiet room, with nothing but the air between them.
Just peachy.
"Settlin' in?" He asked, thumbnail tapping the side of the mug as he avoided looking at the older man.
Larry followed suit, looking away and shuffling towards the cupboards.
"You're fucking joking, right?" It came out a lot colder that he had intended, but then again, he was speaking to a stranger so he didn't feel all that bad about it.
Settling in. Yeah, right, he thought darkly as the cupboard door swung open and he grabbed a mug with more force than was probably needed, as his hands fumbled and he almost dropped the glass. His stomach was twisting in an unpleasant way, hands just a little faulty as he grabbed the pot of coffee and poured it into the mug, splashing some on the counter.
"What about you? You calling this place home yet?"
"It's been home for more'n a year." He admitted softly, chest tightening a bit. Guilt. Guilt for having a life after what had gone down. Larry had only just shown up, fresh from everything, it all raw in his mind and here he was, sitting in the same kitchen he'd been drinkign coffee in for nearly two years. He'd had time to heal. To settle in. But then Larry shows up, and those scars get torn open fresh and all of a sudden its brazen and fresh, open wide in Freddy's mind and reminding that this wasn't his home. He had family. He had an apartment. For God's sake, he even had a fucking goldfish. But he'd gotten so used to his new life, so comfortable with it that he'd left that all behind and tried not to dwell on it. But how could he do that anymore when he was faced with a living, breathing reminder of what he'd left behind in Los Angeles
( ... )
Comments 28
In fact, he hadn't slept much since he'd been on the fucking island itself. Too many things gnawing at his conscience, picking at him like a vulture on carrion.
When was the last tim he had gotten a proper night's rest, anyway? Certainly not the night before Karina's. Fuck, he couldn't remember, couldn't remember a goddamn thing. It was all about the island now.
The island and Mr. Orange. Or whomever he was.
What time it was, he was unsure of. Glancing at his watch, which was still broken, he stepped into the kitchen and was faced with none other than Orange himself.
He stopped and paused, then; "Morning."
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Quiet. Somewhat quiet. The Compound, as a general rule, was never actually quiet. The murmur of people talking, footsteps, the occasional baby crying. It was like a rec-center and an apartment building shoved into one. And despite the unedning amount of life in the place, not a single other person walked through that doorway after Larry. It was just the two of them, in a quiet room, with nothing but the air between them.
Just peachy.
"Settlin' in?" He asked, thumbnail tapping the side of the mug as he avoided looking at the older man.
Reply
"You're fucking joking, right?" It came out a lot colder that he had intended, but then again, he was speaking to a stranger so he didn't feel all that bad about it.
Settling in. Yeah, right, he thought darkly as the cupboard door swung open and he grabbed a mug with more force than was probably needed, as his hands fumbled and he almost dropped the glass. His stomach was twisting in an unpleasant way, hands just a little faulty as he grabbed the pot of coffee and poured it into the mug, splashing some on the counter.
"What about you? You calling this place home yet?"
Reply
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