[Being little wasn't horrible, but it was annoying, and Mel is quite happy when she turns back Wednesday afternoon. The room, sadly, does not grow up with her, stubbornly remaining a duplicate of her Wammy's House room. She remembers Pinkie wanting to talk about things that her kid-self wouldn't quite get, and goes out and looks around for him, but
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Heh, thanks for the sign, makes it easier.
Grown up again?
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It's hard. It's hard to feel this way for two people who hate each other so much like this. I...
(He leans into her embrace for a moment, still shaking, trying to calm down. He does really like beind held like this; it's comforting, and he wants nothing more than to just let himself be comforted for once. But he still needs to show her. So he pulls back a bit, gently, staring her in the eye with a bit of a helpless look.)
I don't... I don't want to die, Mel. I don't. But...
(He sighs a little shiveringly, and pushes up his sleeves, offering her his bandaged wrists, looking worn and torn and generally a dried bloody mess, from his constant itching.)
I need... I need someone to stop me.
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Shh, Pinkie. Tell me how to help. I'll do anything I can.
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I just need help.
(His voice cracks on that last word, and he attempts to move closer, needing the reassurance.)
I'm not... trying to be this way, I swear, I can't-- I don't want you to think I-- just... just want the attention, it's not that way, it's not at all, I can't stop it and it hurts, Mel--
(He's clinging now, sounding a bit hysterical.)
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I know, I know. *She drops a little kiss onto his hair.* Do you want to stay here for a while? Want me to try to talk to Lex? Or... *The Assistant, she thinks, but won't say it.*
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(He's whispering, but he's working himself through the order of prime numbers, calming himself. For a moment, he's quiet, and when he speaks again, he's a little calmer, much more exhausted sounding.)
I can't... ask you to let me stay here. That wouldn't be fair to you, to have to accomodate me. You and Mail shouldn't have to deal with me.
(He breathes in shakily, and takes comfort in her arms.)
Y-you could... talk to Lex, if you wanted. But if you don't want to be involved, don't be, I can... I'll find a way to handle it...
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We'll think of something. I don't want you to have to be alone. I'll check in on you lots, or someone else could stay with you, maybe.
*She keeps petting his back*
It's OK. I'll look for him later.
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(His eyes are closed; he sounds weary.)
I don't want to intrude.
... thank you.
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It's no trouble, Pinkie. I want to help you. *she gives him a little squeeze to reinforce her words*
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