RP log: Stephen (Meta)
To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead. -Bertrand Russell
makes Sveta twitch
eight different ways or so
Jag: Heh.
Pol doesn't/didn't fear life, he just... felt hollow.
Kiki: *nods*
Jag: It doesn't ring too much with anyone else
Kiki: ummm over here it rings loud and clear with Max, actually
Jag: .... Figures, and ow
Kiki: yeah, ow
Jag: That reminds Stephen of the whole death thing
me: ...
Max: Stop it.
Stephen: *faintly startled*
Max: *settles beside him*
Stephen: *takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly*
Max: *small grin* That's right. Breathe. It's sweet, isn't it?
Rich. Air's always rich with smells.
Stephen: *glances at him, slight smile*
Max: Everybody comes to that step, my friend. It's not that I'd not regret what I'm not here to witness yet. It's that I try to not miss anything I'm here for now. Even something as small as how rich the air.
Stephen: All the small things, hmm? Nothing is trivial...
Max: All the small things. All that I can. *small quirk of the lips* Of course, a lot of the time I pass it off as attention for work. And when I do, it is that. But not only that. Nothing is too small. No breath wasted, if I can help it.
Stephen: *watching him* How young were you, when you learned that? How precious every moment is...
Max: *opens his mouth, frowns a bit, closes it* I'm not sure. I'm not sure I remember a time when it wasn't. I was going to say when I ran away from home, but then I thought that... *quiet for a moment* That even before that I was speaking up and trying to do things because they mattered now, even if the chance was likely to come again later.
*wry* Or maybe all children have it and I just didn't manage to get rid of it along the way? *small shrug*
Stephen: *slight smile* In either case. You are a sensualist. *reaching out to stroke the back of his neck lightly* You remember this, the temperature of my fingretips, how soft I touch. I remember ... different things. I notice different things.
Max: *tilts his head a bit forward, watching Stephen almost from under his eyelashes* Well, yes, I remember. It all... matters. I'm here because I want to be here, so all that I'm here with means something. Yes, you too. Obviously.
Stephen: *slightly broader smile* I know. I mean, I remember different things. The sound of your voice. *softer* The things you say. What it means.
Max: Yeees... you would. You do that with everybody, and yet the meanings, the... songs of a very few are ever good enough to keep listening to. *his own hand rises, and fingers trail the inside of Stephen's wrist, from the edge of the cuff, as far as he can see along the skin and back.* You look deeper into things. I... let them seep into me, I suppose. Accept them more easily. And they fill me up. I'm seldom empty and ... *cannot find the right word there* There's always something to fill me up. And some things, *pushes the cuff up just a bit, laying his fingers across the smooth skin* are just better than others.
Stephen: Some things are. *softly, listening* Some things are worth everything *fingres going now not up and down, but side to side beneath his collar, just light and casual along the skin* Worth paying attention to, even if it rarely changes, because every littel nuance means something, and every meaning is sweet.
Max: *a breath that's almost a sigh, relaxing even more under that touch* Those things you pay attention to, you validate. Make more than they were before you paused to seek meaning. And everything changes. If not the substance, the idea of the ... thing, then its shape and size and ... feel.
Stephen: *resting his cheek on his shoulder, letting his words come out as warm breath over the side of his neck as well, still touching* It's more than a little strange to think that other people go through life ithout noticing such elementary things. Without seeing or hearing everything that life, that people have to offer. Without forming the kind of connections that come with noticing and responding to such things. I couldn't imagine living any other way.
Max: *arm going around Stephen's back, just resting down but going across it, and he closes his eyes just for a moment at the caress of breath on his skin* Some people don't, some people do. Some may be wondering at you and me not noticing enough, or at least, consider us noticing less. But whatever I could imagine, I do not want another life. This one, all of it, is too good to want to change it. *smiles* It's noticed by the people who matter. Embraced, even. I don't think I'd change the smallest thing.
Stephen: *settles into his arm, smiling too, and it sounds more through his voice at this angle than Max can see* To change anything would be to change everything. Even the parts that grieve or aggravate, I wouldn't change. Not when they come with so very many other feelings and so many of those... welcome.
Max: *and how that feeling of him there feels good, twining with the sould of his voice, and the words... to change anything is to change everything* Yes. And in the end... I try to welcome all of them. The parts that please, and the parts that tease, and the parts that sting. After all, sometimes the sweetest fruit is protected by the worst-seeming thorns.
Stephen: *low chuckle, still against his neck and turning his head to nuzzle a bit between that and his next words* And sometimes you get, not what you deserve or your heart's desire, but exactly what you need, if you've the wit and openness to see it.
Jag: (*wry* For example, if Solace were any other woman, he and Max might wind up re-creating Brokeback Mountain.)
Kiki: (... which I still haven't seen, but... forbidden love?)
Jag: (... or, well, maybe not. Because if Solace were any other woman, Stephen wouldn't [yes] have taken to bed with Max.)
Kiki: (bahahaha Max: *looks at Solace a lot um. less grumpy than overall in the last few days * me: *dies laughing * And also, credit goes to Dia that way too >.> I'm getting a lot less reading on her than the rest, but she doesn't seem to be panicking about it all, so... )
Max: Mmm that sounds kind of familiar for some reason *small grin *, but yes. And, if anything, I do try to be open. *brushes his cheek along Stephen's temple, then uses his other to caress his face, the side of his neck, very slowly, but not too lightly, fingers tasting the skin under them * That way I miss less.