A Time For Love
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Preslash Charles/Murderface
Warnings: Self-Injury.
Summary: My own variation on the someone-sees-Murderface-cutting theme. Valentine's related. Charles POV.
A Time For Love
Sometimes, I wake up in the night and I just have a feeling that there's somewhere I need to be. That someone needs me. It's a rare but never-wrong phenomenon, so I make sure to search the boys' rooms when I feel that way.
I knew what was happening in Skwisgaar's room. That became apparent from outside the door. Good for him.
Nathan's door was unlocked, and upon opening it, I didn't hear anything amiss. It was pitch black in there. Nathan was asleep.
Toki was asleep as well. He squirmed in his sleep, as if having a nightmare, and I considered whether or not this was what was making my gut twinge. I decided, actually, that it wasn't. I tiptoed in, located Deddybear, and eased him under Toki's arm. I gently touched Toki's hair, his forehead. It seemed to calm him some. I left him be.
Pickles was high. When I opened his door, he looked over at me with bloodshot eyes and beckoned me inside. I did not move from the door, however. "Dood. Dood, ya ever wonder what it would be like if we were made out of snow?" He started to laugh, and I judged that he was fine.
"That's, ah, interesting, Pickles. Goodnight, then."
"Ooo, g'night! Don' let the...ha. Don' let the snowmen bite. Heheheh!"
William. It had to be William. I padded down to his room, and let myself in. The lights were on. He was not in bed, and he was not playing with any of his weapons that I could see. I realized I was hearing running water, but not water from a shower. Water from a sink. I felt uneasy. I pressed my ear to the bathroom door, and listened.
I indeed heard the water from the sink, but there was a sound on top of it. Quiet sobbing. I gently cracked the door and looked inside. And made a face, which I quickly replaced with a neutral expression. I could get visibly upset later.
I gently shut the door again, and then knocked. I heard the sound of William fumbling with the faucet, and then a shuddery release of breath. "Uh...hi?"
I could hear the sadness in his voice. "William, it's me, Charles Offdensen."
"Uh...what'ch do you want?"
"Can I talk to you?"
"What do you want'ch?" he asked, a little more aggressively.
I stepped back from the door slightly. "I had a bad feeling," I admitted. "Sometimes I wake up instinctually in the night and I know something is wrong. Everyone else is fine. You, uh, don't sound fine. To me."
"You're gonna yell at'ch me. You're a self-righteousch aschole, and I don't'ch care what you think."
"If I promise I won't yell at you, can I come in there?"
He sniffed. I listened to the drip of the faucet. Finally, the doorknob turned.
He let go when it was open a crack, and I opened the door the rest of the way. I looked at the red pattern of blood on the counter and in the top portion of the sink. And on his arm. He looked at me defiantly.
"William, I know I'm not Twinkletits. But I do think the two of us should talk."
He looked down at the sink, and turned the water back on, scrubbing some of the blood out of it with his other hand.
"I promise I won't yell. So...are you cutting your arm, William?"
"You're not'ch schtupid. Don't be a fhucking idiot."
"Well, I'm not here to judge you. I'm just here to help."
His reflection's gaze met my gaze. He blinked. His mouth formed a little "o."
"I feel for you. I know you've got to be in pain. Emotionally. I'm sorry that this is what you feel you need to do in order to feel better."
He continued to stare at me via the mirror. Finally, he looked back down at his arm. He started to wash the cuts.
"Would you like me to help you?" I offered. He looked over his shoulder at me with a dark expression, very suspicious.
"What's in it for you?"
"When I get that bad feeling, my stomach hurts," I pointed out. "Maybe if the situation is under control and I can no longer sense trouble afoot, I can sleep." I tried out a gentle smile, which he shied away from by looking down at his arm again.
"Okay."
"Let me get the first aid kit," I said gently. There's a first aid kid in every room at Mordhaus. I walked through replicas of weapons and actual weapons, replicas of torture devices and actual torture devices. Uniforms. Morbid crap. I returned with my red and white prize, and stood next to him.
He didn't look me in the eye as I worked, so I did him the same courtesy. He didn't talk, so I didn't. But I could see his face color with shame, and yet, at the same time, he seemed to calm as I cleaned the cuts and bandaged him up.
When the bandaging was done, I closed the kit and sat it on a clean section of the counter. I waited for him to speak, if he indeed would.
"It'sch no big deal," he said quietly.
"I'm not going to yell. I already explained that I just want to talk. I don't want to judge you."
He swallowed. He took a paper towel and finished wiping at the blood on the counter.
"Is there a reason that you did this tonight?"
He looked over at me.
"William, have I ever judged you?"
He looked down at the counter. A meaty fingertip drew a small heart with a remaining spot of blood. He wiped the back of his non-bandaged hand across his nose. I offered him a paper towel, which he wiped the back of his hand on, and proceeded to wipe across his mustache.
I understood the message loud and clear. "There's something I'd like to show you, if you'll allow me."
He hunched his shoulders. "Where? You're not gonna tell Twinkletits, are you?"
"I'm not going to tell anyone. This is an important secret to have, and I know that. I'd like to show you something in my living room area."
He looked over at me, curious. I offered him my hand, which he took. I led him out of his bathroom and out of the room. I would have let go when we left his room, but he gripped my hand a little more tightly, so I made no attempt.
The way to my rooms was walked in silence, but it didn't drag. It felt comfortable. This was very intimate, for interacting with Dethklok. But if anyone needs a little intimacy, it's William, poor soul.
I opened the door and flicked the light on. I led him to the couch, and sat down on it, allowing him to do the same.
There was a small bear with a heart on the table, an open and half-eaten box of chocolates, and a Valentine's Day card.
I picked the card up and handed it to him. He looked really hurt, to be brought to my rooms only to be shown that I was apparently more popular, more lovable than he was. But that wasn't even the case.
Love can be fickle, it read. Romancing can fall short. Promises can be broken. Real roses die. And on the inside, it said, But I know I can depend on you. Thanks, Valentine.
"Well'ch?"
"Well what?"
"Who'sch it from? Why didn't they sign it?"
I smiled a bit. I like surprising the bassist. What can I say? "It's from me, William. It's all from me. From me, to me. It's a tradition I have, and it goes way back."
He furrowed his brow.
"It's okay to want unbrutal things, like love, and even silly little gifts. Loving yourself is the first step, though. Do you love yourself?"
"I love myschelf all the time!"
"I don't mean masturbation," I tried to say as gently as possible. He closed his mouth and furrowed his brow.
"It's all about accepting your flaws, and appreciating yourself for the things about you worth appreciating."
"What if...."
"What if there isn't anything worth appreciating?"
He looked over at me. Yes, that was exactly where he'd been going with that. I put a hand on his again. "William, look at the way you acted just now. You've been calm and collected, and you allowed me to clean your cuts, which is a brave thing to do. You haven't thrown a tantrum in a good while, that I know of. And even when you did throw a lot more, I still liked like getting to interact with you. You're very eloquent, and you're very passionate."
He looked at me with an expression that said he doubted this.
"Sure, you might like to be a dick sometimes, even to me, but I know you are capable of being well-behaved, grateful, and even generous. The only problem is, you're a man in a lot of pain."
Considering this, he nodded. "Yea'ch. I'm a man in a lot of pain."
"Hey, if you want the rest of the chocolates, you can have them."
"Hey, thanksch!" His face lit up, then fell. "Are you'ch calling me fat?"
"What? No. No, you're not that fat."
"Well...what about ugly?"
"You're not ugly. Is this going somewhere?"
And he kissed me. It was a brush of lips and mustache against my cheek. I cleared my throat. We looked at each other.
"I do like myschelf, sometimes."
"Uh...you do?"
"Yea'ch. Just...I think I might be...." He gestured between us.
"Ah. I see. Yes, well. I am too."
"Right...."
"Right."
"Uh...goodnight, Offdenschen." He got to his feet.
"William?"
"Yea'ch?"
"Is it possible that you could prove to me that you are capable of loving yourself?"
"By tomorrow? Fat chance."
"No, not by tomorrow."
"Now?! Jeeze!"
"No! No, just, in the future. A few weeks from now. A year. I'm really not in any hurry."
"What'ch if it didn't work out, and we wasted time waiting?"
"I find that much of the point of romance is wasted time. But it feels nice. Like, hm, getting high."
"Except when you fight'ch. Or, you know, kill each other."
I picked up the bear and the chocolate and handed them to him. "Take these back to your room, and think about what I said, about loving yourself first. Being okay with William Murderface. Then get the bear back to me when you think you can do that. Okay? Simple."
"Schimple." He eyed the bear. "Thanksch, Offdenschen."
"I really do like you a lot, you know. But I can't like you for you."
"I know. I'll, uh, I'll try to go easchier on you. I like you a lot too. Which makes'ch me hate you."
"I think I understand. So, goodnight, then?"
He gently kissed my cheek again. Wonderful. My prediction was that I'd see that bear again sometime in April or May. And even if I didn't see that bear ever again, I knew I'd see less of those bandages. Less of those scars.
Pairing: Preslash Charles/Murderface
Warnings: Self-Injury.
Summary: My own variation on the someone-sees-Murderface-cutting theme. Valentine's related. Charles POV.
A Time For Love
Sometimes, I wake up in the night and I just have a feeling that there's somewhere I need to be. That someone needs me. It's a rare but never-wrong phenomenon, so I make sure to search the boys' rooms when I feel that way.
I knew what was happening in Skwisgaar's room. That became apparent from outside the door. Good for him.
Nathan's door was unlocked, and upon opening it, I didn't hear anything amiss. It was pitch black in there. Nathan was asleep.
Toki was asleep as well. He squirmed in his sleep, as if having a nightmare, and I considered whether or not this was what was making my gut twinge. I decided, actually, that it wasn't. I tiptoed in, located Deddybear, and eased him under Toki's arm. I gently touched Toki's hair, his forehead. It seemed to calm him some. I left him be.
Pickles was high. When I opened his door, he looked over at me with bloodshot eyes and beckoned me inside. I did not move from the door, however. "Dood. Dood, ya ever wonder what it would be like if we were made out of snow?" He started to laugh, and I judged that he was fine.
"That's, ah, interesting, Pickles. Goodnight, then."
"Ooo, g'night! Don' let the...ha. Don' let the snowmen bite. Heheheh!"
William. It had to be William. I padded down to his room, and let myself in. The lights were on. He was not in bed, and he was not playing with any of his weapons that I could see. I realized I was hearing running water, but not water from a shower. Water from a sink. I felt uneasy. I pressed my ear to the bathroom door, and listened.
I indeed heard the water from the sink, but there was a sound on top of it. Quiet sobbing. I gently cracked the door and looked inside. And made a face, which I quickly replaced with a neutral expression. I could get visibly upset later.
I gently shut the door again, and then knocked. I heard the sound of William fumbling with the faucet, and then a shuddery release of breath. "Uh...hi?"
I could hear the sadness in his voice. "William, it's me, Charles Offdensen."
"Uh...what'ch do you want?"
"Can I talk to you?"
"What do you want'ch?" he asked, a little more aggressively.
I stepped back from the door slightly. "I had a bad feeling," I admitted. "Sometimes I wake up instinctually in the night and I know something is wrong. Everyone else is fine. You, uh, don't sound fine. To me."
"You're gonna yell at'ch me. You're a self-righteousch aschole, and I don't'ch care what you think."
"If I promise I won't yell at you, can I come in there?"
He sniffed. I listened to the drip of the faucet. Finally, the doorknob turned.
He let go when it was open a crack, and I opened the door the rest of the way. I looked at the red pattern of blood on the counter and in the top portion of the sink. And on his arm. He looked at me defiantly.
"William, I know I'm not Twinkletits. But I do think the two of us should talk."
He looked down at the sink, and turned the water back on, scrubbing some of the blood out of it with his other hand.
"I promise I won't yell. So...are you cutting your arm, William?"
"You're not'ch schtupid. Don't be a fhucking idiot."
"Well, I'm not here to judge you. I'm just here to help."
His reflection's gaze met my gaze. He blinked. His mouth formed a little "o."
"I feel for you. I know you've got to be in pain. Emotionally. I'm sorry that this is what you feel you need to do in order to feel better."
He continued to stare at me via the mirror. Finally, he looked back down at his arm. He started to wash the cuts.
"Would you like me to help you?" I offered. He looked over his shoulder at me with a dark expression, very suspicious.
"What's in it for you?"
"When I get that bad feeling, my stomach hurts," I pointed out. "Maybe if the situation is under control and I can no longer sense trouble afoot, I can sleep." I tried out a gentle smile, which he shied away from by looking down at his arm again.
"Okay."
"Let me get the first aid kit," I said gently. There's a first aid kid in every room at Mordhaus. I walked through replicas of weapons and actual weapons, replicas of torture devices and actual torture devices. Uniforms. Morbid crap. I returned with my red and white prize, and stood next to him.
He didn't look me in the eye as I worked, so I did him the same courtesy. He didn't talk, so I didn't. But I could see his face color with shame, and yet, at the same time, he seemed to calm as I cleaned the cuts and bandaged him up.
When the bandaging was done, I closed the kit and sat it on a clean section of the counter. I waited for him to speak, if he indeed would.
"It'sch no big deal," he said quietly.
"I'm not going to yell. I already explained that I just want to talk. I don't want to judge you."
He swallowed. He took a paper towel and finished wiping at the blood on the counter.
"Is there a reason that you did this tonight?"
He looked over at me.
"William, have I ever judged you?"
He looked down at the counter. A meaty fingertip drew a small heart with a remaining spot of blood. He wiped the back of his non-bandaged hand across his nose. I offered him a paper towel, which he wiped the back of his hand on, and proceeded to wipe across his mustache.
I understood the message loud and clear. "There's something I'd like to show you, if you'll allow me."
He hunched his shoulders. "Where? You're not gonna tell Twinkletits, are you?"
"I'm not going to tell anyone. This is an important secret to have, and I know that. I'd like to show you something in my living room area."
He looked over at me, curious. I offered him my hand, which he took. I led him out of his bathroom and out of the room. I would have let go when we left his room, but he gripped my hand a little more tightly, so I made no attempt.
The way to my rooms was walked in silence, but it didn't drag. It felt comfortable. This was very intimate, for interacting with Dethklok. But if anyone needs a little intimacy, it's William, poor soul.
I opened the door and flicked the light on. I led him to the couch, and sat down on it, allowing him to do the same.
There was a small bear with a heart on the table, an open and half-eaten box of chocolates, and a Valentine's Day card.
I picked the card up and handed it to him. He looked really hurt, to be brought to my rooms only to be shown that I was apparently more popular, more lovable than he was. But that wasn't even the case.
Love can be fickle, it read. Romancing can fall short. Promises can be broken. Real roses die. And on the inside, it said, But I know I can depend on you. Thanks, Valentine.
"Well'ch?"
"Well what?"
"Who'sch it from? Why didn't they sign it?"
I smiled a bit. I like surprising the bassist. What can I say? "It's from me, William. It's all from me. From me, to me. It's a tradition I have, and it goes way back."
He furrowed his brow.
"It's okay to want unbrutal things, like love, and even silly little gifts. Loving yourself is the first step, though. Do you love yourself?"
"I love myschelf all the time!"
"I don't mean masturbation," I tried to say as gently as possible. He closed his mouth and furrowed his brow.
"It's all about accepting your flaws, and appreciating yourself for the things about you worth appreciating."
"What if...."
"What if there isn't anything worth appreciating?"
He looked over at me. Yes, that was exactly where he'd been going with that. I put a hand on his again. "William, look at the way you acted just now. You've been calm and collected, and you allowed me to clean your cuts, which is a brave thing to do. You haven't thrown a tantrum in a good while, that I know of. And even when you did throw a lot more, I still liked like getting to interact with you. You're very eloquent, and you're very passionate."
He looked at me with an expression that said he doubted this.
"Sure, you might like to be a dick sometimes, even to me, but I know you are capable of being well-behaved, grateful, and even generous. The only problem is, you're a man in a lot of pain."
Considering this, he nodded. "Yea'ch. I'm a man in a lot of pain."
"Hey, if you want the rest of the chocolates, you can have them."
"Hey, thanksch!" His face lit up, then fell. "Are you'ch calling me fat?"
"What? No. No, you're not that fat."
"Well...what about ugly?"
"You're not ugly. Is this going somewhere?"
And he kissed me. It was a brush of lips and mustache against my cheek. I cleared my throat. We looked at each other.
"I do like myschelf, sometimes."
"Uh...you do?"
"Yea'ch. Just...I think I might be...." He gestured between us.
"Ah. I see. Yes, well. I am too."
"Right...."
"Right."
"Uh...goodnight, Offdenschen." He got to his feet.
"William?"
"Yea'ch?"
"Is it possible that you could prove to me that you are capable of loving yourself?"
"By tomorrow? Fat chance."
"No, not by tomorrow."
"Now?! Jeeze!"
"No! No, just, in the future. A few weeks from now. A year. I'm really not in any hurry."
"What'ch if it didn't work out, and we wasted time waiting?"
"I find that much of the point of romance is wasted time. But it feels nice. Like, hm, getting high."
"Except when you fight'ch. Or, you know, kill each other."
I picked up the bear and the chocolate and handed them to him. "Take these back to your room, and think about what I said, about loving yourself first. Being okay with William Murderface. Then get the bear back to me when you think you can do that. Okay? Simple."
"Schimple." He eyed the bear. "Thanksch, Offdenschen."
"I really do like you a lot, you know. But I can't like you for you."
"I know. I'll, uh, I'll try to go easchier on you. I like you a lot too. Which makes'ch me hate you."
"I think I understand. So, goodnight, then?"
He gently kissed my cheek again. Wonderful. My prediction was that I'd see that bear again sometime in April or May. And even if I didn't see that bear ever again, I knew I'd see less of those bandages. Less of those scars.