Archie Kennedy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
betteralready) wrote2017-01-25 07:07 pm
betteralready) wrote2017-01-25 07:07 pm
Entry tags:
i am one of them | Reslife/LEMUR crossover
Archie tries to tell Horatio not to come.
He tries to tell Horatio not to come; knows that it will be too much, with the French and the gunshots and the quiet longing his role requires. Only relents (still reluctantly) when Edgar confirms he'll be going as well.
(Elliot tries to tell Edgar not to come, either, but he doesn't mean it-- never could-- the way Archie did. Loathe though he is to admit it, he's always going to want Edgar there-- and is likely always going to be surprised, still, when he shows.)
It's still one of the hardest performances he's ever done, knowing his boyfriend is sitting in the audience watching the obvious heartache. Archie has to breathe through the quiet panic of his own, when the young woman playing Éponine comes in covered in blood; notices a tremble in Elliot's hands. The tears in his eyes (and Elliot's, he notes) are real when they press their foreheads together as the quiet desperation takes hold in the play.
He tries as hard as he possibly can to look nothing like himself, in the scene where they die. Tries to look all gloom and despair and not sacrifice. More like a man brought half-unwillingly to the gallows and not like one who stepped up to the noose himself.
(Elliot, in rehearsals, had aimed for the opposite. Aimed to look more like himself so that it wouldn't hurt Edgar to see, because this was realer for the both of them than it was for even Archie and Horatio. And so Archie had held his tongue about how better to look like a man willing to die for something so much bigger than himself-- of a man who walked almost blindly into the range of bullets to protect what he loved more than life itself.
Neither of them quite manage, entirely, to achieve the image they're aiming for.)
They stand atop the false barricade and get shot while hand-in-hand. They'd almost had a fight with the director about it, but Elliot couldn't face this echo of his death without a hand in his and Archie, well--
(--He'll never tell Horatio, because it will kill the man certain sure, but there's something nice about the idea of having someone hold your hand while you're dying. He doesn't begrudge his boyfriend the way things had ended, but that's the one thing he'd wanted that he hadn't gotten, when he'd died the first time.)
They arrange to meet, all four of them, once most of the crowd has thinned, because they know it's not going to be an easy reunion. Thankfully, they're alone when they exit the stage door. Elliot steps towards Edgar with a hint of nervous uncertainty, his hand already offered out to be held. Archie shifts his attention instantly to give them some privacy; tuning out the quiet murmurs of French that reach his ears as he moves to Horatio.
He doesn't think twice about catching at Horatio's hand and bringing it up to his chest in the old, unfortunately familiar way. He'd brought a white shirt to change into after exactly so Horatio could see the utter lack of blood.
"I'm not hurt," he murmurs in lieu of a proper greeting, "'nd I love you."
He tries to tell Horatio not to come; knows that it will be too much, with the French and the gunshots and the quiet longing his role requires. Only relents (still reluctantly) when Edgar confirms he'll be going as well.
(Elliot tries to tell Edgar not to come, either, but he doesn't mean it-- never could-- the way Archie did. Loathe though he is to admit it, he's always going to want Edgar there-- and is likely always going to be surprised, still, when he shows.)
It's still one of the hardest performances he's ever done, knowing his boyfriend is sitting in the audience watching the obvious heartache. Archie has to breathe through the quiet panic of his own, when the young woman playing Éponine comes in covered in blood; notices a tremble in Elliot's hands. The tears in his eyes (and Elliot's, he notes) are real when they press their foreheads together as the quiet desperation takes hold in the play.
He tries as hard as he possibly can to look nothing like himself, in the scene where they die. Tries to look all gloom and despair and not sacrifice. More like a man brought half-unwillingly to the gallows and not like one who stepped up to the noose himself.
(Elliot, in rehearsals, had aimed for the opposite. Aimed to look more like himself so that it wouldn't hurt Edgar to see, because this was realer for the both of them than it was for even Archie and Horatio. And so Archie had held his tongue about how better to look like a man willing to die for something so much bigger than himself-- of a man who walked almost blindly into the range of bullets to protect what he loved more than life itself.
Neither of them quite manage, entirely, to achieve the image they're aiming for.)
They stand atop the false barricade and get shot while hand-in-hand. They'd almost had a fight with the director about it, but Elliot couldn't face this echo of his death without a hand in his and Archie, well--
(--He'll never tell Horatio, because it will kill the man certain sure, but there's something nice about the idea of having someone hold your hand while you're dying. He doesn't begrudge his boyfriend the way things had ended, but that's the one thing he'd wanted that he hadn't gotten, when he'd died the first time.)
They arrange to meet, all four of them, once most of the crowd has thinned, because they know it's not going to be an easy reunion. Thankfully, they're alone when they exit the stage door. Elliot steps towards Edgar with a hint of nervous uncertainty, his hand already offered out to be held. Archie shifts his attention instantly to give them some privacy; tuning out the quiet murmurs of French that reach his ears as he moves to Horatio.
He doesn't think twice about catching at Horatio's hand and bringing it up to his chest in the old, unfortunately familiar way. He'd brought a white shirt to change into after exactly so Horatio could see the utter lack of blood.
"I'm not hurt," he murmurs in lieu of a proper greeting, "'nd I love you."
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"/Promise/?"
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His fingers shift slightly, grip a little tighter.
"/Maybe at myself, hm? But not at you, El. Not even a little./"
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"/You're-- better, now./"
It can't hurt, to murmur the assurance.
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That was part of what hurt, really. That was part of why seeing such a golden image had twisted in his gut.
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The name 'Apollo' rises to his lips, but he manages to stop himself. It has his expression flickering just slightly.
"I just--" English sounds sloppy on his lips, "/I just-- need you to-- love me. Properly, this time./"
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"/Do I?/"
He's been less worried, lately, but the reminder of what had been--of how little he had understood, the first time--has him nervous all over again.
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Which technically should be all that matters, but his judgement isn't always to be trusted in this regard.
"/Rach thinks so. And-- the fact you're-- asking is-- a good sign, I think./"
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"/I guess./" The insecurity is just a little hard to shake, right now. "/I just-- God, I love you-- so much, you know? And I want it to-- be enough. I want it to be what you actually need, not-- just what I have to give./"
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Which in itself is such a different experience from before. Which has him smiling just a little, as he lifts their joined hands to his lips to kiss.
"/And we've-- been trying. We've been-- talking. That's all good , Ed. That's better than how we started./"
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His fingers squeeze tighter, but his lips twitch back toward a nervous sort of smile at the brush of Elliot's lips. They had gotten somewhere so much better so much quicker, this time.
"/And you're-- you're happy, hm?/"
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And what a gift, to say it and mean it. It earns a small smile of his own.
"/We-- we are, yeah?/"
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"/We are./"
Wasn't it infinitely better to be a 'we.'
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Another fretful kiss to his knuckles.
"Just-- a roadbump, Ed. We'll be okay."
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Exorcising ghosts like this needed both their minds on it.
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Which has helped them both, really.
"Just-- you know how my head can get."
They both have to be so careful.
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It needs to be underlined with a smattering of kisses, pressed against Elliot's shoulder and cheek and knuckles. It's possible he hustles them a tiny bit faster toward home; sprawling together will be the best balm by far.
"And you've been so-- amazingly good about it. Truly."
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That's made it feel safer, to say something. The gentle affection now makes things feel even more settled, even if it earns a blush.
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It never hurts to affirm that it's been noticed; that it's working.
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"Thank you, mm?"
The affirmation does help. So will, likely, managing to get themselves properly into their apartment.