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thejusticelounge2014-12-31 06:29 pm
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2014-12-31 06:29 pm
Entry tags:
inquisition
Roy avoids the ‘art’ as much as he possibly can, and instead, heads to the gym for a heavy duty workout. He hasn’t given himself a sound beating like this in a while: lunges, sit ups, salmon ladder, as a cherry on top. It’s only with the sweat pouring off of him that Roy feels remotely human, and even then.. It doesn’t seem enough. He continues to work, wrapping his hands, going for the sparring dummies in the open arena.
Kyle is nearing the outside of the gym, in outer space, doing some repair work. Being one of the few people around anymore who can be out in space at will, Kyle’s taken on this duty with a lot of hup-to eagerness. It’s also fun because he gets to pretend he’s, like, some sort of badass construction worker or something. Without the union or the pay, but…close enough. He’s even constructed his team to work for him, and has self-appointed himself as the foreman. He sees Roy in the gym through the large curved windows, and raps on it, trying to get his attention (as if the bright green lights aren’t enough).
Roy spots the glowing green from the corner of his eyes, and exhales, punching the dummy once, hard, in the solar plexus, before he stops. He grabs his towel off the straight bars, dragging it over his face, and walks over to the window where Kyle is.
When he’s got Roy’s attention, Kyle plants his hands flat on the glass to brace himself, and then, dissolving his crabmask so it doesn’t bump, he makes a blowfish against the glass, his eyes crossing from the effort.
Roy can’t help himself. His face splits into a big, effusive grin, and he shakes his head, his hands moving down to the band of his sweatpants, thumbs stretching the elastic as he adjusts them. Overly loud, he states: “You’re an idiot.”
Kyle can see Roy talk, and mimes holding his ear and then shrugging in an exaggerated way. Really Kyle could be doing a clown act from vaudeville. He laughs too, then dissolves his crewmen as he phases through the window. It takes a bit of effort - particularly in remembering to just know it will not allow any suction between the pressurized indoors and the zero of outer space. “Yo! Lookat you! All working out and sweating to the oldies…” Kyle looks duly impressed.
Roy shrugs, moving his hands to the towel wrapped around his neck, hanging against the ends of it as he takes a step back from where Kyle materializes. “Yeah, trying to get shit sorted in my head.” He looks back at the scattered gym gear, the places he had been attempting to exorcise his demons. “..eh.” He shrugs again, and looks back at Kyle. “You going for a stroll or something?”
Kyle has always been vaguely fascinated with the trappings and concepts of ‘gym’ and ‘training’ but never had the head - or body, really - for it. He meanders over to one of the dumbells Roy’d used on the mat, bending to pick it up. It doesn’t budge. Kyle squints up at Roy with a slight grin, then his body glows green as he hauls it up. “I was doing some repair work outside. Riveting. Like literally, as a verb not an adjective,” Kyle laughs, pumping the dumbell in one hand in an awkward fashion, but enjoying it nonetheless. “What kinda stuff sorted?” He looks over at Roy curiously, if mildly. He doesn’t want Roy to rabbit, and this impromptu encounter was a fortunate one, Kyle thinks.
Roy shrugs, as he walks over and holds his hand out for the dumbbell. “Cheating,” he reminds him, casually, before, just as casually, he says: “Mar’i. Me and her. Us together..” He shrugs, again, not meeting Kyle’s eyes, waiting for the dumbbell.
Kyle looks innocent, but hands the dumbell over to Roy who takes it effortlessly. Powers not needed in the least. Kyle still looks mild, but comprehending. “Yeah… You think it’s going well, or…?” He tilts his flat hand back and forth in the so-so fashion.
Roy shrugs again, but doesn’t clam up. It’s a good sign, even as he gives his back to Kyle and walks over towards the rack, where he deposits the dumbbell in its correct place: the numbers are marked along the flat edge of the thick piece of steel. “I was trying to get together with her to go over what she’s gonna say at a speech she’s giving, and when I realized that you weren’t working at Blackbird, I suggested we use her bed. Made a joke.” His voice tightens a little here, as it becomes obvious that it was an instance his humor had not helped him out. Not in the least. He exhales. “She told me that she didn’t feel comfortable with it, for a bunch of reasons, and basically I just.. I just don’t think I’m very good for her anymore, Kyle.” The last of it rushes out in a huff, as he lifts the edge of his towel, wiping at his brow.
Kyle is glad to hear Roy sharing, taking it indeed as a good sign. He listens, switching out into construct civvies so he can stick his hands into jean pockets as he shifts his weight from one hip to the next. “Aw ohhh,” Kyle says when Roy mentions the joke attempt, knowing from the tightness of Roy’s voice that said joke didn’t go over well. At the end, when Roy rushes the words out, Kyle straightens up and takes a couple steps forward. “Hey - hey now. Don’t go saying stuff like that, ‘mano.”
Roy looks up at Kyle, his countenance pulled tight, and presses his lips together as he attempts to come up with something to say in the face of this, of Kyle’s admonition. He shakes his head. “I just.. She thinks I’m trying to hide myself in sex, and I just.. it’s not that, it’s that I.. I missed her.” His eyes go bright, and he looks away from Kyle, suddenly, as he clears his throat. “Missing a lot of people, you know?” He walks towards the water cooler, grabbing one of the little biodegradable cups from the edge—he remembered how pissed Ollie had been at the water bottles that had been supplied when this gym had first opened up, this was the closest they could get to the subject, afterwards—and filling it up and taking a long drink. “But I’m just.. There’s something knocking around in my head and I don’t really know how to get rid of it.”
Kyle comes over, reaching his hand out at Roy in an almost passive way, waiting for Roy to supply him with a cup of water rather than acquire one himself. “Dude, that can’t be easy,” Kyle says leaning a shoulder up against the wall as he regards his friend. “And that’s a sucky feeling. Trying to get rid’a something. I guess…that’s where the whole punching it out came in, huh?” Kyle says with only a slight smile - because it was a positive attempt. Or at least, that’s what the media always tells guys who need to get rid of things in their head: either drink it out or punch it out. Or fuck it out - but that is clearly not the case for Roy right now. Not after what he’d explained. “Hitting the gym’s a good option, if it worked…”
Roy hands Kyle a cup of water, filled to the brim, before he fills up his own again, drinking it down. He exhales, and shakes his head, filling up another cup of water. “Nah, I don’t think it did..” He sucks his tongue against his teeth, rolling the tip back against the sharp edge of his cracked molar. He pushes it in, sharply, until he can taste copper, and washes it away with another cup of water. “But whatever, it’s cool. You know?” He glances over at Kyle, taking in the comfortable, nearly lazy way that the other man leans against the wall. It’s almost alarming, how he envies everything about Kyle in that instant, how much he wants to be closer to that, than the sweating, nearly-vibrating mess of skin and hair, blood and bones, that he is. “How are you doing? Besides being riveting.” The joke climbs out before he realizes it, and he rolls his eyes at himself, turning back to the water.
Kyle picks up on the joke and, after carefully sip-gulping his tiny cup of water, does a brief Popeye-style jig. “Aykuk-kuk-kuk-kuk!” He swishes the crumpled paper cup towards the disposal bin (and misses, but a construct janitor-rat picks it up for him) as he playfully jabs Roy with two wide fingers. “I’m doin good but - okay first - c’mon. Towel up and come with me.” Kyle waits for Roy to make himself less gym-like before hustling out into the hall. “I got just the place for you, buckaroo.”
Roy crushes his own cup, and is almost appalled at how quickly it starts to deteriorate in his hand, dropping it into the rubbish bin. He removes his towel, contemplating snapping it at Kyle, but doesn’t, moving towards the showers. He washes up, scrubbing himself to pink and raw in the showers with scalding hot water, toweling himself dry and dressing down in a pair of loose jeans (most were, these days) and a red Star City Barons hooded sweatshirt. He doesn’t leave too much in his wake, cleaning up as best he can, before joining Kyle outside in the hallway.
Kyle lets Roy quietly go through his process and then heads to the lifts, settling against a railing after he hits the controls for one of the upper decks. He looks sidelong at Roy. “Not even curious where I’m taking you? Or…what’s that other word? Apprehensive? You can guess, I’ll bet you’ll figure it out in three guesses. No! Two.”
Roy shakes his head. “You’re not gonna kill me, so, unless there’s like.. nuns involved, it’s all good.” He pushes a finger inside his ear, quickly plunging out any residual water from inside. Glancing over at Kyle, he pulls a face, long and mulish, and gestures down the hall. “First guess, Toys R Us. Second guess.. Medieval Times.”
Kyle takes Roy to one of the hangar bays, powering up his ring to slide a fitted space-suit over Roy’s frame, as he slides into his own uniform as well. Kyle laughs slightly. “Good guesses, but you only have one last guess. Tell me my name and if you can’t then your first born will be mine, all mine, mine!!” Once they’re all suited up, Kyle smacks the air lock button and space opens up before them. Well, at this angle and the way the Watchtower is positioned, it’s actually Earth showing, below them. Around the Indian subcontinent, in fact. Without any hesitation, Kyle takes a hold of Roy’s hand and flings him out of the space station.
Roy had been going tense, as soon as they made their way into the airlock, but when he gets /flung/. Off. The Watchtower, every muscle inside him goes rigid. “Jesus—Kyle!!” He reaches up and attempts to hold onto Kyle’s hand, even as he starts to spin in place, up and over his head. Images of Sandra Bullock in Gravity come to mind and he swallows down his panic. “Ah.. Ah, /shit./”
Kyle immediately joins Roy, knowing that ‘Arrows in Space’ is never a good combination, but. Well there is no ‘but’, Kyle knows he’s not going to leave Roy’s side any time soon, and maybe the outburst of extreme to the max might kick-start Roy, particularly about the ‘something in his head’. He grasps Roy’s arms, his fingers curling around Roy’s elbows as he grins at the other man. “Tell me right now and I’ll comply: you wanna go back in? Or you wanna stay out here for a bit?” Kyle nods back over to Earth, and the moon in the distance, keeping Roy’s eyeline away from any direct sun (his visor protects his eyes anyway, but seeing the sun is still rather freaky).
Roy swallows, and swallows again, even as he looks out at where they are. He exhales, and takes a steady breath, then another, and shakes his head. “J-just.. Just don’t go anywhere, okay, not yet?” It sounds too close to don’t leave me, that Roy has to look away, and towards the Earth, where the sunlight shimmers off the ocean’s surface like the water is made of a thousand, shimmering diamonds, caught together in a thin membrane.
Roy feels his breath lost at the sight of it. “Jeez..”
“Beautiful, innit?” Kyle looks over at Roy, saying firmly, confident smile still there. “I’m not going anywhere, Roy.” The Lantern salutes to Kate through the Watchtower, then, still grasping Roy’s arm, flies him as carefully and gently as promised, across the open space. The asteroid belt comes into view and Kyle nods over at it. “That’s where I usually go, to get my frustrations out. Insteada punching bags, I punch rocks.” Kyle does a slow, steady loop with Roy, getting the other man used to the feel of being completely weightless. He looks at Roy, his expression soft. “And I don’t think you’re not good enough for Mar’i, Roy. You can’t think of yourself or her like that, in terms of worthiness. You’re a good person, and so’s she. You are both good people. You’re both worthy, man.”
Roy doesn’t comment on what Kyle says, or even on the asteroid belt punching (which is weird, because, FUCKING awesome) but instead, focuses in on what Kyle says, the way he says it. He swallows. “Then why do I keep fucking this up?”
Kyle ”I dunno, amigo. Whatever’s got you feeling like you gotta get hella drunk, or, or - or hit the gym hard. Whatever’s rattling around up here—” Kyle taps Roy’s skull softly, with two thick fingers. “That’s what’s keeping the here—” He taps Roy’s chest, “- feeling like you’re screwing up. And you know it too! Told me yourself.” Kyle slowly flies them in a wide arc, closer to the welcoming darkness along the moon’s surface.
Roy falls silent, watching space as he floats around it, unable to keep the wonder—and the fear—from plastering across his countenance. He exhales, and shakes his head, not able to say much about whatever it is that is keeping him there. His fingers tighten over Kyle’s, before he releases his grip, pulling his arms in as he experiments with the weightlessness of the space around him.
Kyle feels some surprise when Roy lets go, but doesn’t say anything; he’d hoped Roy’s inner instinct would kick in, his innate need for independence and roaming and ranging. So Kyle stays near and watches Roy experiment, feels a certain sense of pride for his friend’s willfullness “What d’you think?”
Roy responds, automatically. “I think it explains a lot about you.” He pushes against it, the emptiness of space, and speaks outloud: “I think it’s strange that it doesn’t have any.. weight to it. Like, I keep expecting it to feel like air, or water..”
"Right?? Now if your buddy would just shut up for a minute, you’d feel a complete sensory deprivation feeling staring out into space, without having to shell out $100 bucks at some new agey chi-chi L.A. spa." Kyle jokes, slightly, but it’s true. "I know this probably isn’t your type-a meditation, but. Sometimes I find getting outta my comfort zone can really put things in perspective. Then again, I’m a cheeseball like that. Remind me not to try’n show up at a pow wow to find personal ‘enlightenment’," he says, a wry bit of social commentary.
Roy shakes his head. “I don’t want the deprivation, thanks.” And he doesn’t. Not really. This was enough for him, but he needed the noise. Even in the loneliest and quietest nights in the desert, there was always some sort of noise. The Earth was alive, and breathing, and living, and willing thing to happen, and Roy was comforted by that, the same way some people were comforted by the noise of the ocean against the beach, or the wind in the trees. He scoffs, and attempts to ‘swim’ through the emptiness of the space around him, finding it sends him spinning instead. “..I hope if you do, that they milk every last penny outta you.” He smirks, and then makes a low noise, unable to stop. “Hey, how do you.. slow?”
"You don’t," Kyle says and he’s teasing Roy because it is so ominous and he knows Roy’s already a little discombobulated. He constructs a rope, swinging the lasso in the air like a cowboy before looping it around Roy’s waste and tugging him back. "You and Mar’i - you guys started as friends, right? " Kyle turns Roy, so they’re looking back at Earth, towards the North American continent now. "Maybe you could start there, being friends again. No expectations, just you and her and….a whole prickly ton of cacti. I assume there’s cacti, Mar’i never shuts up about cacti, heh. And not that I’m saying take her out into the desert. The cacti are metaphorical. For. Stuff."
Roy stares at Kyle, because this is one of those moments where its best to just /listen/ to what he’s saying. He reaches out and grabs onto the rope, pulling himself closer to his own personal anchor, Kyle Rayner, before he glances back down at Earth. Metaphorical. For stuff. Swallowing heavily, Roy nods. “..I think I wanna go back inside now, ‘mano.”
Kyle nods and takes hold of Roy’s arm again, flying them back quickly to the Watchtower. He feels a little nervous, at the sound of Roy’s voice. Once they’re in the airlock and repressurized, Kyle dissolves the spacesuit off of Roy. “You…you okay? Oh geez, I hope I didn’t give you space flu or something…”
Roy shakes his head, and lifts both hands, to push over his head, his scalp. He locks his fingers at the back of his skull, keeping them locked there, elbows cocked out and over each ear. “Nah, it’s okay. I just..” His grin crackles, bright and hard, but only for a minute. “I really had to pee.”
Kyle looks at Roy, eyes wide. “Oh! Right, right of course right. Stupid me. Well, um. Thanks for…hanging out with me and stuff.”
Roy slaps his hand against Kyle’s shoulder, as he walks past him. “You hungry after that? Or is that like.. normal every day oh god I’m gonna die fear for you?” Roy blinks, and peers over at Kyle, eyes narrowing. “Or are you completely used to it now?” That thought makes him look Kyle up and down, as if sizing him up.
"Oh! Uh. No, I’m good, I’m fine, I mean. I mean - yeah I’m hungry, after all that riveting and stuff too and…" Kyle pushes a finger into his ear and jiggles it in there, as he starts walking to make pace with Roy. "…uh, so like. Did - did I make any. What do you think? About…the stuff with you and Mar’i and the stuff in your head?"
Roy goes and pees, and comes back, his hands freshly washed and sanitized, even though he dries them on the sides of his sweatshirt. “..I think I gotta talk to her more, even if I’m scared shitless, so yeah, you did good, Rayner.” He smirks, and continues to walk, towards the cafeteria.
"I KNEW it!" Kyle leaps half into the air, then scampers after Roy, pointing in excitement and speaking rapidly. "Fear! Right? I mean - I didn’t wanna say it because then you’d be like ‘ay dios Green Lantern it’s not always about fear, cripes’ and then I’d be like ‘well what the heckerdoodle is making Roy thinking he’s a total screw up if it’s not fear???’ but it IS fear!! Dude." Kyle half runs himself into Roy, like a dog bouncing against another friend-doge. "Overcoming fear is what I do best. Not even boasting about it."
Roy shoves Kyle away too quickly. It’s almost too hard, actually, but he recovers from the panic that climbs across his face, but screwing up his expression, playing it off into humor as he forces a chuckle out. “..yeah, you’re a real Dr. Phil when it comes to fear, Rayner, no worries about being dethroned there.” He makes sure that here on the Watchtower, where he can walk and keep his own balance, not to walk too closely to Kyle as they make their way to the cafeteria.
Kyle half-staggers back, skidding on his heel a bit as he startles and looks at Roy. Normally he’d brush that off quickly (aw, Roy doesn’t know his own strength, aw Roy’s nervous) but after…stuff that’s happened, he’s not so quick to make excuses for it. He hangs back, then finally comes to a stop at the entrance of the cafeteria, folding his arms.
Roy doesn’t notice—or forces himself not to notice—Kyle standing there, arms folded, and he walks into the cafeteria, aiming for the food service line.
Kyle would have turned and left - because being humiliated like that, it never feels good - but he recalls Mar’i’s advice and takes a very deep breath, packing his feelings away. He can talk with Zee, later. For now, he calls out, not loudly but enough that Roy can hear. “Roy, come back here.”
Roy looks back, over his shoulder, at Kyle. “Huh?” He’s already made the queue for pizza, arguably the longest line any night of the week, but especially Saturday.
"I said, come back here," Kyle says, a little louder.
Roy feels something twist, sharp in his belly, at the sound of Kyle’s voice, the sound of it. He makes a petulant sound, and walks back towards Kyle, casually, even if he doesn’t feel that way. “What is it?”
"You can’t do that. You can’t just push me away like that," Kyle says flatly. "This’s actually a good time to have a talk about something /we/ gotta talk about, so—" Kyle takes hold of Roy’s elbow and walks them over to a quiet booth, private and away from anyone else. "I wanna talk. About what happened in the library."
Roy scowls. “You were up in my space,” Roy says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to push you that hard, I—” He stops, his teeth clicking as he shuts his mouth, staring at Kyle. “We just got too close to each other, and I was half outta my mind.. Why do you keep coming back to it?”
"Because that’s not what you said when I asked you why you did…what you did." Kyle can’t actually say it himself, being in the process of self-acceptance as well. Just a little bit farther along than Roy currently is. Kyle hopes only a little bit further, anyway. "You said it was because I laughed…and…look." Kyle holds up his hand. "Alls I’m saying is that it’s okay. I’m not mad, and I’m not grossed out or anything. It happened, that’s okay." Kyle leans in, looking at Roy even if Roy might not look back. "You didn’t do anything wrong, you hear me?"
"That’s fine, yeah," Kyle concedes, unfazed by Roy’s explosion. He’s not going to mince facts right now, with Roy so high-spirited. It’s not relevant, and Kyle’s not trying to prove anything. "It was just a thing that happened, yeah? And it was okay that it happened, as long as we can both acknowledge that it /happened/. There’s nothing wrong with /that/. And I’m not trying to get you to say or do anything other than accepting that - the - that the - " No, Kyle still can’t say it, " - that it’s something we can both accept happened."
Roy ’s mouth twists and he shoves back against the soft, crackling leather of the booth, his expression going absolutely venomous as he stares at the tabletop, pushing his fingers against the perfectly clean surface. “Fine. It happened. Is that what you wanted me to say?”
"Why’s it so hard for you? What’re you so pissed off about?" Kyle demands; and really, the only reason he /can/ demand is because he’s done so much painful, embarrassing soul-searching himself. "I’m fine with what you did! Do you hear what /I’m/ trying to say? I agree that me being with Zee means I shouldn’t be kissed by other people, but - as for the kiss itself, from you, a man? Yeah, dude. I’m /fine/ with it. And you /did/ it, so. What. What?" Kyle leans back, hands spread out, the ‘sock it to me’ pose. "What. Huh?"
Roy stares at the tabletop, not able to bring his gaze up to Kyle. “Nothing. Nothing’s hard about it.” He drums his fingers against the tabletop. “It’s good that you’re fine with it. Can we go eat now?”
”Look at me,” Kyle’s voice is firm, but not angry.
Roy ’s nostrils flare, and his gaze remains locked onto the tabletop. He swallows, once, twice, because its this wait that calls Roy’s bluff, not Kyle’s voice or anything else, but the silence that makes Roy realize the fear that is rising up in him. Just like it had in space. Just like it had.. He listens to the echoing ends of Kyle’s speech, his own personal little anchor, and looks up, slowly, at Kyle, all of the anger gone. The brightness of his eyes are slick in his skull, his expression open and blank, and easy for his friend to read: afraid, fearful, any synonym that works in place of trepidation, of god honest fear of what lays between them in the silence, in everything that isn’t being said.. It’s all there on Roy’s face, for the taking.
Roy ’s voice crackles, low and dark. “Yeah. It happened. I kissed you.”
Kyle takes a sharp breath, as if sucking in Roy’s words so he can digest them. Because currently his expression looks like he doesn’t yet believe Roy actually /said/ it - as dark and raw as it was - he still /said/ it. But when it’s digested then Kyle swallows and becomes just Kyle: a 26 year old hipster with a novel, bare bones comprehension of his own sexuality, trying to get his friend to admit to something intimate, something they shared. Kyle softens, expression warm and amenable. “Yeah. You kissed me. Nothing’s changed and everything’s changed, and that’s okay. You’re still a good person. You can still be there for Mar’i.” He’s prepared for anything - hurled abuse, abrupt disinterest, disdain, Roy walking away - whatever.
Roy brings both of his hands up and scrubs at his face when Kyle begins speaking, and it isn’t a soft, gentle motion. His fingers leave bright white pressure marks across his cheeks, and he lowers his head onto the tabletop, exhaling. He speaks from there, is breathing puffing against the tabletop. “..yeah. Yeah.”
Kyle leans in instinctively - who wouldn’t, when their friend rests his head on the table like that? - and he puts his hand down, close to Roy’s head, drumming his fingers on the table in a soft, rhythmic way. “I get it man. Trying to keep it all separate and all. But it’s all….mushed up together isn’t it.” Kyle muses, and then adds with a slight chide on himself. “Or maybe I’m way off-base here. I’m just trying to understand what it’s like for you, man. In your deep down dark guts area.”
Roy looks up at Kyle, and his expression is sharp again, sharper than the edge of one of his honed arrows, the glint of gunmetal. “Whaddya mean, what it’s like for me? I’m the one who—"
Kyle knew eventually he’d say something that Roy would take umbrage too; it was really only a matter of time, and Kyle did feel grateful it took this long. He attempts to explain, preparing himself to muck it up and possibly enrage Roy further. “Well I mean - already know what it’s like for me. So I’m trying to understand how you’re feeling, because…well. I don’t know how you feel. And I’d like to know, because I care.”
Roy lifts his head up and sputters at Kyle. “What’s so hard to understand how I’m feeling, you big green idiot?” He stands up, and points an accusatory finger at the man, even though if he were hard pressed to explain what he were accusing the Lantern of, he wouldn’t be able to. “I’m the one who kissed you! I’m the one who—What is it that you want to HEAR?” He’s half shouting now, and realizes it, sitting back down with a hard thunk, his elbows slamming against the table as he buries his face in his hand. “You don’t get how I’m feeling’ Kyle?”
Kyle keeps his hands splayed up in deference as he leans back. “I said I don’t /know/ what you’re feeling, Roy. Not that I don’t get /how/ you’re feeling. I can’t ‘not get how you’re feeling’-” he uses air quotes but for once it’s not sarcastic, just trying to clarify. ” - because I dunno what you’re feeling in the first place.”
Roy stares at Kyle. Just.. stares at him. He leans back against the booth chair, slumping against the leather like its the only thing keeping him upright, and he exhales. “..I did it. Isn’t that a good like.. I dunno, indication?” He pushes a hand across his brow. “Can we.. can I at least get a drink if we’re gonna hash this out?”
Kyle does look confused now, genuinely confused. “Uh…yeah. Right, sure, I mean…” Kyle snaps his fingers, and a construct dwarf appears, looking all businesslike. “As long as you don’t order anything more complicated than a beer, our little friend here can get you whatever you like.” Kyle looks over at the dwarf and says, “Pint of lager.”
Roy grunts. “Same.” He looks at the dwarf, and mutters. “Somewhere, Hermione Granger would be protesting..” He shakes his head, and looks over at Kyle. “Do you get what I’m saying? It’s not hard to figure it out, Kyle..” Roy’s voice is soft, self-deprecating. “I did it. That’s how I feel.” When the beers appear, Roy takes his own, but doesn’t bother to hand the Lantern his own; he takes his own, taking a long draw on the amber liquid.
Kyle takes his beer from the dwarf, who gives Kyle the stink-eye for not tipping before the construct disappears. “Yeah, you did it,” Kyle nods, still not getting it because Kyle is either slow about things like this or willfully slow or perhaps both. He drinks from his glass. “It’s not a bad thing, uh, kissing another dude. It’s as normal as kissing a lady, or anyone else.” Kyle tilts his head, and adds, “With the social caveats we both already know, etcetera etcetera.”
Roy looks at Kyle. “You advocating for people kissing their dogs? Because that’s gross.” It’s an obvious attempt to move away from the subject of the actual kissing, and he takes another sip of his beer.
Kyle chuckles into the foam. “Dude did I even say that right? ‘Social caveat’? You’re the smart one. I’m learning alla this as I go, and oh boy…it’s a lot to learn.” Kyle pushes his hand through his hair, pulling his brow up to give himself a surprised expression. “But it’s worth it. Learning about…uh, like, sexuality and preferences and stuff.”
Roy makes a face. “Why?”
Kyle grins. “Because I’m part of the me-generation and I love learning about me. Me, me, me, me, myself and me.” Kyle takes another long drink again. “Once I…accepted it, anyway. That it was okay for me.”
Roy nods, and looks down at his drink, falling into silence. 18:48
Kyle waits as the long silent minutes pass, drinking his beer and watching Roy patiently, making it clear that Roy can continue the conversation on his own time.
Roy looks up at Kyle. “What?”
"What’re you feeling right now?"
Roy screws up his face, looking alarmingly like Ollie when he does so. He sucks his teeth, loudly. “Hungry. ‘Cause you never let me get my pizza.” He finishes his beer, in two long gulps, and sets the mug down.
Kyle sighs. He should’ve guessed Roy would avoid. Kyle suddenly feels really tired; exhausted really. He leans on the table on his elbows, cradling his head in his hands as he nods his chin to the food counter. “Well, go on then.”
Roy doesn’t move though, and it’s as if he’s doing it just to be obstinate. “No, you get it.” He leans back against the booth, arching an eyebrow at Kyle.
Kyle peeks through his fingers at Roy, squinting at him for a moment. “Bibbity bobbity boo,” he says, and three little construct fairies are dispatched, buzzing off towards the food. They return with a thick, wide slice of pizza each, gently laying them in front of Roy like tribute. Pepperoni, bacon, peppers and mushroom, and geezlewort cheese.
Roy goes for the peppers and mushrooms, picking up the slice and taking a huge bite, as he speaks around it. “Have you started playing Dragon Age yet?”
Kyle groans, smooshing his face in his fingers. “Ohhhh noooo. Not Roy’s Twenty Questions about Safe Small Talk Subjects again. Please, dude, anything but that!”
Roy sets his pizza down, and when he leans forward this time, there’s an earnestness about him, a deep thrumming note that runs through him: like Roy is a string that has been pulled taut against the edge of a bow, and plucked. “..what do you want from me, Kyle?”
"Trust would be nice," Kyle says, raising his head and cupping his chin. His fingers pull his skin, giving him a hangdog look. "We’ve been through so much as teammates, you as my leader, us working together, and then as buddies, roomies, friends…I want you to trust me. Not make me feel like I’m forcing you to talk to me about something other than apartments and games." Kyle sits up a bit more, just as earnest. "I mean, if you want that - if that’s the kinda friendship you want, then let me know, man. I’ll stop trying so hard and we’ll never have to talk about things like feelings and fears again."
Roy blinks. “You think I don’t trust you?”
"Not enough that you feel safe sharing your feelings, no." Kyle shakes his head. "I don’t want to keep /forcing/ you to talk with me, Roy. We can talk about games if you prefer that. I mean…did you hear the rest of what I said?"
Roy stares at Kyle. “You want me to share what I’m feeling?” It feels like more 20 questions, but Roy doesn’t care: he wants to get to the bottom of things.
"Yeah," Kyle nods and places his hands on the table, tensing slightly. "Yup."
Roy licks his lips. “I’m thinking that you’re doing a lotta souls searching and shit and all I did was kiss you.” He licks his lips again. “I’m thinking that it shouldn’t be hard for you to figure out what I’m feelin’.”
Kyle eyes widen and then he raises his fingers. “Okay, but pretend I’m stupid, like more’n usual, because the last thing I wanna do is assume /anything/ wrong about what you’re feeling, so I’m not gonna figure out anything, because I don’t want to put words in your mouth, so. No, I don’t know what you’re feeling; and no, I can’t figure it out. I’m simply not smart enough to figure it out. Essentially the same thing I’ve been saying for the past fifteen minutes.”
Roy sucks in a sharp breath, and he scans Kyle’s face, lips moving like he’s speaking, like he is saying something, but in fact, all he’s doing is saying the other man’s name over and over. He exhales and shakes his head, looking down at his pizza. “..I kissed you because I’ve been wanting to, for a long time now.” He takes a sharp breath in, one that makes him rock back. “Because I wanted to know what it felt like.” His gaze goes bright again, like the sun racing over the ocean at dawn. “And you didn’t return it. So I didn’t line too long on it.”
Kyle couldn’t have guessed any of that. He lowers his hands on the edge of the table and stares at Roy, completely dumbfounded. A Mia-brand of sarcasm and eye-rolling echoes in the back of his brain: You make him spill his beans and then you can’t even SAY anything? psh. and Kyle blinks rapidly then inhales and exhales loudly. “Ay dios. Well no wonder you didn’t wanna tell me. Now I feel like a right bastard for making you,” he finally says.
Roy blinks, pain flashing across his face as he nods, and leans back. He swings his long legs over the seat cushion of the booth, and rises up, grabbing his half eaten slice. “Yeah, well, there’s your talking.” Grabbing his mug and the plate, Roy stalks from the booth.
Kyle ”Oh you gotta be kidding me,” Kyle stands up and once more gives Roy chase. “Roy! Please, come back man. Roy I’m begging you, come talk to me, please.”
Roy snarls at him. “What the fuck do you WANNA TALK ABOUT, KYLE?!”
"Why’re you mad at me?" Kyle holds his hands out, desperate and sad. "What’d I do wrong? Why do I keep doing things wrong by you, man? What’d I do now?"
Roy throws away his pizza, tossing his mug into the washing bins, and looks back at him. “Saying things like “no wonder” makes me feel like a fucking idiot, Kyle—you wanna start there?”
"Okay, okay. Okay. I’m sorry - I’m sorry I keep saying the wrong things that make you feel terrible, I’m sorry, Roy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry, I—" Kyle cuts himself off, hanging his head. "I’m not a good friend, I don’t say the right things. I’m a fuck up who fucks up royally when it comes to treating you with respect. I’m sorry. I’m sorry."
Roy stares at the other man. “Why is it ‘no wonder’ that I didn’t want to tell you, Kyle? Tell me what you meant.”
Kyle first instinct is to say’ never mind’ but he miserably continues, waiting to be berated further. “Because what you said…I didn’t know, I didn’t realize at all. I’m sorry. So I finally got it. I finally got why it was so hard for you to tell me, it made sense, and I know it wasn’t easy for you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I fucked everything up. I’m sorry.”
Roy grabs Kyle’s wrist and half drags him out of the cafeteria, into one of the service hallways. “..so it makes sense? You get why I’d—” He turns to look at Kyle. “None of this made sense before to you?”
Kyle shakes his head, still downcast and therefore unresistant. “I’m sorry I’m such a terrible friend, Roy.”
Roy pushes his hand against Kyle’s head, his fingers tangling in the other man’s hair, exhaling as he repeats. “..d’you get why I didn’t wanna say anything, Kyle?”
Kyle pulls away and nods and murmurs again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’tve asked.”
Roy ’s voice is raw when he speaks next, watching Kyle’s face “Why? Why shouldn’t you have asked?”
"Because it made you upset, because I’m a fuck up who makes you feel like an idiot, and I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that, and I’m not good at talking to you. I hurt you, and I’m sorry."
Roy shakes his head, so sharp and so hard it’s as if he wants to knock his head from his shoulders. “You honestly—Kyle, you didn’t /understand/?” The disbelief is rife in his voice.
Kyle suddenly freezes and then looks rather stricken. “Oh god. What do I say.” He looks up at Roy. “Are you gonna hate and blame me more if I say yeah or if I say no?”
Roy moves his hand down, until his fingertips are resting against the back of Kyle’s neck. “..I’m gonna be mad if you don’t answer me.” His breathing is rough, then, as he stares at the other man.
Kyle nods and tenses himself, readying for whatever outcome his answer brings. “I didn’t understand.”
Roy nods, and drops his hand. “And now you do.”
Kyle nods, and slumps against the wall. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you all the time. I’m not a good friend.”
Roy scoffs. “You don’t.. You don’t hurt me all the time, Kyle. You just say shit that makes me wonder if I’ve been such an idiot, thinking you’d.. want things. Want that. This. That.” He mumbles, not making much sense. He exhales. “You’re a great friend. Pretty much the best..” He shakes his head. “Anyway, that beer hit me pretty hard I’m gonna go..” He nods down the hall. “I’m gonna walk it off.”
Kyle is nearing the outside of the gym, in outer space, doing some repair work. Being one of the few people around anymore who can be out in space at will, Kyle’s taken on this duty with a lot of hup-to eagerness. It’s also fun because he gets to pretend he’s, like, some sort of badass construction worker or something. Without the union or the pay, but…close enough. He’s even constructed his team to work for him, and has self-appointed himself as the foreman. He sees Roy in the gym through the large curved windows, and raps on it, trying to get his attention (as if the bright green lights aren’t enough).
Roy spots the glowing green from the corner of his eyes, and exhales, punching the dummy once, hard, in the solar plexus, before he stops. He grabs his towel off the straight bars, dragging it over his face, and walks over to the window where Kyle is.
When he’s got Roy’s attention, Kyle plants his hands flat on the glass to brace himself, and then, dissolving his crabmask so it doesn’t bump, he makes a blowfish against the glass, his eyes crossing from the effort.
Roy can’t help himself. His face splits into a big, effusive grin, and he shakes his head, his hands moving down to the band of his sweatpants, thumbs stretching the elastic as he adjusts them. Overly loud, he states: “You’re an idiot.”
Kyle can see Roy talk, and mimes holding his ear and then shrugging in an exaggerated way. Really Kyle could be doing a clown act from vaudeville. He laughs too, then dissolves his crewmen as he phases through the window. It takes a bit of effort - particularly in remembering to just know it will not allow any suction between the pressurized indoors and the zero of outer space. “Yo! Lookat you! All working out and sweating to the oldies…” Kyle looks duly impressed.
Roy shrugs, moving his hands to the towel wrapped around his neck, hanging against the ends of it as he takes a step back from where Kyle materializes. “Yeah, trying to get shit sorted in my head.” He looks back at the scattered gym gear, the places he had been attempting to exorcise his demons. “..eh.” He shrugs again, and looks back at Kyle. “You going for a stroll or something?”
Kyle has always been vaguely fascinated with the trappings and concepts of ‘gym’ and ‘training’ but never had the head - or body, really - for it. He meanders over to one of the dumbells Roy’d used on the mat, bending to pick it up. It doesn’t budge. Kyle squints up at Roy with a slight grin, then his body glows green as he hauls it up. “I was doing some repair work outside. Riveting. Like literally, as a verb not an adjective,” Kyle laughs, pumping the dumbell in one hand in an awkward fashion, but enjoying it nonetheless. “What kinda stuff sorted?” He looks over at Roy curiously, if mildly. He doesn’t want Roy to rabbit, and this impromptu encounter was a fortunate one, Kyle thinks.
Roy shrugs, as he walks over and holds his hand out for the dumbbell. “Cheating,” he reminds him, casually, before, just as casually, he says: “Mar’i. Me and her. Us together..” He shrugs, again, not meeting Kyle’s eyes, waiting for the dumbbell.
Kyle looks innocent, but hands the dumbell over to Roy who takes it effortlessly. Powers not needed in the least. Kyle still looks mild, but comprehending. “Yeah… You think it’s going well, or…?” He tilts his flat hand back and forth in the so-so fashion.
Roy shrugs again, but doesn’t clam up. It’s a good sign, even as he gives his back to Kyle and walks over towards the rack, where he deposits the dumbbell in its correct place: the numbers are marked along the flat edge of the thick piece of steel. “I was trying to get together with her to go over what she’s gonna say at a speech she’s giving, and when I realized that you weren’t working at Blackbird, I suggested we use her bed. Made a joke.” His voice tightens a little here, as it becomes obvious that it was an instance his humor had not helped him out. Not in the least. He exhales. “She told me that she didn’t feel comfortable with it, for a bunch of reasons, and basically I just.. I just don’t think I’m very good for her anymore, Kyle.” The last of it rushes out in a huff, as he lifts the edge of his towel, wiping at his brow.
Kyle is glad to hear Roy sharing, taking it indeed as a good sign. He listens, switching out into construct civvies so he can stick his hands into jean pockets as he shifts his weight from one hip to the next. “Aw ohhh,” Kyle says when Roy mentions the joke attempt, knowing from the tightness of Roy’s voice that said joke didn’t go over well. At the end, when Roy rushes the words out, Kyle straightens up and takes a couple steps forward. “Hey - hey now. Don’t go saying stuff like that, ‘mano.”
Roy looks up at Kyle, his countenance pulled tight, and presses his lips together as he attempts to come up with something to say in the face of this, of Kyle’s admonition. He shakes his head. “I just.. She thinks I’m trying to hide myself in sex, and I just.. it’s not that, it’s that I.. I missed her.” His eyes go bright, and he looks away from Kyle, suddenly, as he clears his throat. “Missing a lot of people, you know?” He walks towards the water cooler, grabbing one of the little biodegradable cups from the edge—he remembered how pissed Ollie had been at the water bottles that had been supplied when this gym had first opened up, this was the closest they could get to the subject, afterwards—and filling it up and taking a long drink. “But I’m just.. There’s something knocking around in my head and I don’t really know how to get rid of it.”
Kyle comes over, reaching his hand out at Roy in an almost passive way, waiting for Roy to supply him with a cup of water rather than acquire one himself. “Dude, that can’t be easy,” Kyle says leaning a shoulder up against the wall as he regards his friend. “And that’s a sucky feeling. Trying to get rid’a something. I guess…that’s where the whole punching it out came in, huh?” Kyle says with only a slight smile - because it was a positive attempt. Or at least, that’s what the media always tells guys who need to get rid of things in their head: either drink it out or punch it out. Or fuck it out - but that is clearly not the case for Roy right now. Not after what he’d explained. “Hitting the gym’s a good option, if it worked…”
Roy hands Kyle a cup of water, filled to the brim, before he fills up his own again, drinking it down. He exhales, and shakes his head, filling up another cup of water. “Nah, I don’t think it did..” He sucks his tongue against his teeth, rolling the tip back against the sharp edge of his cracked molar. He pushes it in, sharply, until he can taste copper, and washes it away with another cup of water. “But whatever, it’s cool. You know?” He glances over at Kyle, taking in the comfortable, nearly lazy way that the other man leans against the wall. It’s almost alarming, how he envies everything about Kyle in that instant, how much he wants to be closer to that, than the sweating, nearly-vibrating mess of skin and hair, blood and bones, that he is. “How are you doing? Besides being riveting.” The joke climbs out before he realizes it, and he rolls his eyes at himself, turning back to the water.
Kyle picks up on the joke and, after carefully sip-gulping his tiny cup of water, does a brief Popeye-style jig. “Aykuk-kuk-kuk-kuk!” He swishes the crumpled paper cup towards the disposal bin (and misses, but a construct janitor-rat picks it up for him) as he playfully jabs Roy with two wide fingers. “I’m doin good but - okay first - c’mon. Towel up and come with me.” Kyle waits for Roy to make himself less gym-like before hustling out into the hall. “I got just the place for you, buckaroo.”
Roy crushes his own cup, and is almost appalled at how quickly it starts to deteriorate in his hand, dropping it into the rubbish bin. He removes his towel, contemplating snapping it at Kyle, but doesn’t, moving towards the showers. He washes up, scrubbing himself to pink and raw in the showers with scalding hot water, toweling himself dry and dressing down in a pair of loose jeans (most were, these days) and a red Star City Barons hooded sweatshirt. He doesn’t leave too much in his wake, cleaning up as best he can, before joining Kyle outside in the hallway.
Kyle lets Roy quietly go through his process and then heads to the lifts, settling against a railing after he hits the controls for one of the upper decks. He looks sidelong at Roy. “Not even curious where I’m taking you? Or…what’s that other word? Apprehensive? You can guess, I’ll bet you’ll figure it out in three guesses. No! Two.”
Roy shakes his head. “You’re not gonna kill me, so, unless there’s like.. nuns involved, it’s all good.” He pushes a finger inside his ear, quickly plunging out any residual water from inside. Glancing over at Kyle, he pulls a face, long and mulish, and gestures down the hall. “First guess, Toys R Us. Second guess.. Medieval Times.”
Kyle takes Roy to one of the hangar bays, powering up his ring to slide a fitted space-suit over Roy’s frame, as he slides into his own uniform as well. Kyle laughs slightly. “Good guesses, but you only have one last guess. Tell me my name and if you can’t then your first born will be mine, all mine, mine!!” Once they’re all suited up, Kyle smacks the air lock button and space opens up before them. Well, at this angle and the way the Watchtower is positioned, it’s actually Earth showing, below them. Around the Indian subcontinent, in fact. Without any hesitation, Kyle takes a hold of Roy’s hand and flings him out of the space station.
Roy had been going tense, as soon as they made their way into the airlock, but when he gets /flung/. Off. The Watchtower, every muscle inside him goes rigid. “Jesus—Kyle!!” He reaches up and attempts to hold onto Kyle’s hand, even as he starts to spin in place, up and over his head. Images of Sandra Bullock in Gravity come to mind and he swallows down his panic. “Ah.. Ah, /shit./”
Kyle immediately joins Roy, knowing that ‘Arrows in Space’ is never a good combination, but. Well there is no ‘but’, Kyle knows he’s not going to leave Roy’s side any time soon, and maybe the outburst of extreme to the max might kick-start Roy, particularly about the ‘something in his head’. He grasps Roy’s arms, his fingers curling around Roy’s elbows as he grins at the other man. “Tell me right now and I’ll comply: you wanna go back in? Or you wanna stay out here for a bit?” Kyle nods back over to Earth, and the moon in the distance, keeping Roy’s eyeline away from any direct sun (his visor protects his eyes anyway, but seeing the sun is still rather freaky).
Roy swallows, and swallows again, even as he looks out at where they are. He exhales, and takes a steady breath, then another, and shakes his head. “J-just.. Just don’t go anywhere, okay, not yet?” It sounds too close to don’t leave me, that Roy has to look away, and towards the Earth, where the sunlight shimmers off the ocean’s surface like the water is made of a thousand, shimmering diamonds, caught together in a thin membrane.
Roy feels his breath lost at the sight of it. “Jeez..”
“Beautiful, innit?” Kyle looks over at Roy, saying firmly, confident smile still there. “I’m not going anywhere, Roy.” The Lantern salutes to Kate through the Watchtower, then, still grasping Roy’s arm, flies him as carefully and gently as promised, across the open space. The asteroid belt comes into view and Kyle nods over at it. “That’s where I usually go, to get my frustrations out. Insteada punching bags, I punch rocks.” Kyle does a slow, steady loop with Roy, getting the other man used to the feel of being completely weightless. He looks at Roy, his expression soft. “And I don’t think you’re not good enough for Mar’i, Roy. You can’t think of yourself or her like that, in terms of worthiness. You’re a good person, and so’s she. You are both good people. You’re both worthy, man.”
Roy doesn’t comment on what Kyle says, or even on the asteroid belt punching (which is weird, because, FUCKING awesome) but instead, focuses in on what Kyle says, the way he says it. He swallows. “Then why do I keep fucking this up?”
Kyle ”I dunno, amigo. Whatever’s got you feeling like you gotta get hella drunk, or, or - or hit the gym hard. Whatever’s rattling around up here—” Kyle taps Roy’s skull softly, with two thick fingers. “That’s what’s keeping the here—” He taps Roy’s chest, “- feeling like you’re screwing up. And you know it too! Told me yourself.” Kyle slowly flies them in a wide arc, closer to the welcoming darkness along the moon’s surface.
Roy falls silent, watching space as he floats around it, unable to keep the wonder—and the fear—from plastering across his countenance. He exhales, and shakes his head, not able to say much about whatever it is that is keeping him there. His fingers tighten over Kyle’s, before he releases his grip, pulling his arms in as he experiments with the weightlessness of the space around him.
Kyle feels some surprise when Roy lets go, but doesn’t say anything; he’d hoped Roy’s inner instinct would kick in, his innate need for independence and roaming and ranging. So Kyle stays near and watches Roy experiment, feels a certain sense of pride for his friend’s willfullness “What d’you think?”
Roy responds, automatically. “I think it explains a lot about you.” He pushes against it, the emptiness of space, and speaks outloud: “I think it’s strange that it doesn’t have any.. weight to it. Like, I keep expecting it to feel like air, or water..”
"Right?? Now if your buddy would just shut up for a minute, you’d feel a complete sensory deprivation feeling staring out into space, without having to shell out $100 bucks at some new agey chi-chi L.A. spa." Kyle jokes, slightly, but it’s true. "I know this probably isn’t your type-a meditation, but. Sometimes I find getting outta my comfort zone can really put things in perspective. Then again, I’m a cheeseball like that. Remind me not to try’n show up at a pow wow to find personal ‘enlightenment’," he says, a wry bit of social commentary.
Roy shakes his head. “I don’t want the deprivation, thanks.” And he doesn’t. Not really. This was enough for him, but he needed the noise. Even in the loneliest and quietest nights in the desert, there was always some sort of noise. The Earth was alive, and breathing, and living, and willing thing to happen, and Roy was comforted by that, the same way some people were comforted by the noise of the ocean against the beach, or the wind in the trees. He scoffs, and attempts to ‘swim’ through the emptiness of the space around him, finding it sends him spinning instead. “..I hope if you do, that they milk every last penny outta you.” He smirks, and then makes a low noise, unable to stop. “Hey, how do you.. slow?”
"You don’t," Kyle says and he’s teasing Roy because it is so ominous and he knows Roy’s already a little discombobulated. He constructs a rope, swinging the lasso in the air like a cowboy before looping it around Roy’s waste and tugging him back. "You and Mar’i - you guys started as friends, right? " Kyle turns Roy, so they’re looking back at Earth, towards the North American continent now. "Maybe you could start there, being friends again. No expectations, just you and her and….a whole prickly ton of cacti. I assume there’s cacti, Mar’i never shuts up about cacti, heh. And not that I’m saying take her out into the desert. The cacti are metaphorical. For. Stuff."
Roy stares at Kyle, because this is one of those moments where its best to just /listen/ to what he’s saying. He reaches out and grabs onto the rope, pulling himself closer to his own personal anchor, Kyle Rayner, before he glances back down at Earth. Metaphorical. For stuff. Swallowing heavily, Roy nods. “..I think I wanna go back inside now, ‘mano.”
Kyle nods and takes hold of Roy’s arm again, flying them back quickly to the Watchtower. He feels a little nervous, at the sound of Roy’s voice. Once they’re in the airlock and repressurized, Kyle dissolves the spacesuit off of Roy. “You…you okay? Oh geez, I hope I didn’t give you space flu or something…”
Roy shakes his head, and lifts both hands, to push over his head, his scalp. He locks his fingers at the back of his skull, keeping them locked there, elbows cocked out and over each ear. “Nah, it’s okay. I just..” His grin crackles, bright and hard, but only for a minute. “I really had to pee.”
Kyle looks at Roy, eyes wide. “Oh! Right, right of course right. Stupid me. Well, um. Thanks for…hanging out with me and stuff.”
Roy slaps his hand against Kyle’s shoulder, as he walks past him. “You hungry after that? Or is that like.. normal every day oh god I’m gonna die fear for you?” Roy blinks, and peers over at Kyle, eyes narrowing. “Or are you completely used to it now?” That thought makes him look Kyle up and down, as if sizing him up.
"Oh! Uh. No, I’m good, I’m fine, I mean. I mean - yeah I’m hungry, after all that riveting and stuff too and…" Kyle pushes a finger into his ear and jiggles it in there, as he starts walking to make pace with Roy. "…uh, so like. Did - did I make any. What do you think? About…the stuff with you and Mar’i and the stuff in your head?"
Roy goes and pees, and comes back, his hands freshly washed and sanitized, even though he dries them on the sides of his sweatshirt. “..I think I gotta talk to her more, even if I’m scared shitless, so yeah, you did good, Rayner.” He smirks, and continues to walk, towards the cafeteria.
"I KNEW it!" Kyle leaps half into the air, then scampers after Roy, pointing in excitement and speaking rapidly. "Fear! Right? I mean - I didn’t wanna say it because then you’d be like ‘ay dios Green Lantern it’s not always about fear, cripes’ and then I’d be like ‘well what the heckerdoodle is making Roy thinking he’s a total screw up if it’s not fear???’ but it IS fear!! Dude." Kyle half runs himself into Roy, like a dog bouncing against another friend-doge. "Overcoming fear is what I do best. Not even boasting about it."
Roy shoves Kyle away too quickly. It’s almost too hard, actually, but he recovers from the panic that climbs across his face, but screwing up his expression, playing it off into humor as he forces a chuckle out. “..yeah, you’re a real Dr. Phil when it comes to fear, Rayner, no worries about being dethroned there.” He makes sure that here on the Watchtower, where he can walk and keep his own balance, not to walk too closely to Kyle as they make their way to the cafeteria.
Kyle half-staggers back, skidding on his heel a bit as he startles and looks at Roy. Normally he’d brush that off quickly (aw, Roy doesn’t know his own strength, aw Roy’s nervous) but after…stuff that’s happened, he’s not so quick to make excuses for it. He hangs back, then finally comes to a stop at the entrance of the cafeteria, folding his arms.
Roy doesn’t notice—or forces himself not to notice—Kyle standing there, arms folded, and he walks into the cafeteria, aiming for the food service line.
Kyle would have turned and left - because being humiliated like that, it never feels good - but he recalls Mar’i’s advice and takes a very deep breath, packing his feelings away. He can talk with Zee, later. For now, he calls out, not loudly but enough that Roy can hear. “Roy, come back here.”
Roy looks back, over his shoulder, at Kyle. “Huh?” He’s already made the queue for pizza, arguably the longest line any night of the week, but especially Saturday.
"I said, come back here," Kyle says, a little louder.
Roy feels something twist, sharp in his belly, at the sound of Kyle’s voice, the sound of it. He makes a petulant sound, and walks back towards Kyle, casually, even if he doesn’t feel that way. “What is it?”
"You can’t do that. You can’t just push me away like that," Kyle says flatly. "This’s actually a good time to have a talk about something /we/ gotta talk about, so—" Kyle takes hold of Roy’s elbow and walks them over to a quiet booth, private and away from anyone else. "I wanna talk. About what happened in the library."
Roy scowls. “You were up in my space,” Roy says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to push you that hard, I—” He stops, his teeth clicking as he shuts his mouth, staring at Kyle. “We just got too close to each other, and I was half outta my mind.. Why do you keep coming back to it?”
"Because that’s not what you said when I asked you why you did…what you did." Kyle can’t actually say it himself, being in the process of self-acceptance as well. Just a little bit farther along than Roy currently is. Kyle hopes only a little bit further, anyway. "You said it was because I laughed…and…look." Kyle holds up his hand. "Alls I’m saying is that it’s okay. I’m not mad, and I’m not grossed out or anything. It happened, that’s okay." Kyle leans in, looking at Roy even if Roy might not look back. "You didn’t do anything wrong, you hear me?"
"That’s fine, yeah," Kyle concedes, unfazed by Roy’s explosion. He’s not going to mince facts right now, with Roy so high-spirited. It’s not relevant, and Kyle’s not trying to prove anything. "It was just a thing that happened, yeah? And it was okay that it happened, as long as we can both acknowledge that it /happened/. There’s nothing wrong with /that/. And I’m not trying to get you to say or do anything other than accepting that - the - that the - " No, Kyle still can’t say it, " - that it’s something we can both accept happened."
Roy ’s mouth twists and he shoves back against the soft, crackling leather of the booth, his expression going absolutely venomous as he stares at the tabletop, pushing his fingers against the perfectly clean surface. “Fine. It happened. Is that what you wanted me to say?”
"Why’s it so hard for you? What’re you so pissed off about?" Kyle demands; and really, the only reason he /can/ demand is because he’s done so much painful, embarrassing soul-searching himself. "I’m fine with what you did! Do you hear what /I’m/ trying to say? I agree that me being with Zee means I shouldn’t be kissed by other people, but - as for the kiss itself, from you, a man? Yeah, dude. I’m /fine/ with it. And you /did/ it, so. What. What?" Kyle leans back, hands spread out, the ‘sock it to me’ pose. "What. Huh?"
Roy stares at the tabletop, not able to bring his gaze up to Kyle. “Nothing. Nothing’s hard about it.” He drums his fingers against the tabletop. “It’s good that you’re fine with it. Can we go eat now?”
”Look at me,” Kyle’s voice is firm, but not angry.
Roy ’s nostrils flare, and his gaze remains locked onto the tabletop. He swallows, once, twice, because its this wait that calls Roy’s bluff, not Kyle’s voice or anything else, but the silence that makes Roy realize the fear that is rising up in him. Just like it had in space. Just like it had.. He listens to the echoing ends of Kyle’s speech, his own personal little anchor, and looks up, slowly, at Kyle, all of the anger gone. The brightness of his eyes are slick in his skull, his expression open and blank, and easy for his friend to read: afraid, fearful, any synonym that works in place of trepidation, of god honest fear of what lays between them in the silence, in everything that isn’t being said.. It’s all there on Roy’s face, for the taking.
Roy ’s voice crackles, low and dark. “Yeah. It happened. I kissed you.”
Kyle takes a sharp breath, as if sucking in Roy’s words so he can digest them. Because currently his expression looks like he doesn’t yet believe Roy actually /said/ it - as dark and raw as it was - he still /said/ it. But when it’s digested then Kyle swallows and becomes just Kyle: a 26 year old hipster with a novel, bare bones comprehension of his own sexuality, trying to get his friend to admit to something intimate, something they shared. Kyle softens, expression warm and amenable. “Yeah. You kissed me. Nothing’s changed and everything’s changed, and that’s okay. You’re still a good person. You can still be there for Mar’i.” He’s prepared for anything - hurled abuse, abrupt disinterest, disdain, Roy walking away - whatever.
Roy brings both of his hands up and scrubs at his face when Kyle begins speaking, and it isn’t a soft, gentle motion. His fingers leave bright white pressure marks across his cheeks, and he lowers his head onto the tabletop, exhaling. He speaks from there, is breathing puffing against the tabletop. “..yeah. Yeah.”
Kyle leans in instinctively - who wouldn’t, when their friend rests his head on the table like that? - and he puts his hand down, close to Roy’s head, drumming his fingers on the table in a soft, rhythmic way. “I get it man. Trying to keep it all separate and all. But it’s all….mushed up together isn’t it.” Kyle muses, and then adds with a slight chide on himself. “Or maybe I’m way off-base here. I’m just trying to understand what it’s like for you, man. In your deep down dark guts area.”
Roy looks up at Kyle, and his expression is sharp again, sharper than the edge of one of his honed arrows, the glint of gunmetal. “Whaddya mean, what it’s like for me? I’m the one who—"
Kyle knew eventually he’d say something that Roy would take umbrage too; it was really only a matter of time, and Kyle did feel grateful it took this long. He attempts to explain, preparing himself to muck it up and possibly enrage Roy further. “Well I mean - already know what it’s like for me. So I’m trying to understand how you’re feeling, because…well. I don’t know how you feel. And I’d like to know, because I care.”
Roy lifts his head up and sputters at Kyle. “What’s so hard to understand how I’m feeling, you big green idiot?” He stands up, and points an accusatory finger at the man, even though if he were hard pressed to explain what he were accusing the Lantern of, he wouldn’t be able to. “I’m the one who kissed you! I’m the one who—What is it that you want to HEAR?” He’s half shouting now, and realizes it, sitting back down with a hard thunk, his elbows slamming against the table as he buries his face in his hand. “You don’t get how I’m feeling’ Kyle?”
Kyle keeps his hands splayed up in deference as he leans back. “I said I don’t /know/ what you’re feeling, Roy. Not that I don’t get /how/ you’re feeling. I can’t ‘not get how you’re feeling’-” he uses air quotes but for once it’s not sarcastic, just trying to clarify. ” - because I dunno what you’re feeling in the first place.”
Roy stares at Kyle. Just.. stares at him. He leans back against the booth chair, slumping against the leather like its the only thing keeping him upright, and he exhales. “..I did it. Isn’t that a good like.. I dunno, indication?” He pushes a hand across his brow. “Can we.. can I at least get a drink if we’re gonna hash this out?”
Kyle does look confused now, genuinely confused. “Uh…yeah. Right, sure, I mean…” Kyle snaps his fingers, and a construct dwarf appears, looking all businesslike. “As long as you don’t order anything more complicated than a beer, our little friend here can get you whatever you like.” Kyle looks over at the dwarf and says, “Pint of lager.”
Roy grunts. “Same.” He looks at the dwarf, and mutters. “Somewhere, Hermione Granger would be protesting..” He shakes his head, and looks over at Kyle. “Do you get what I’m saying? It’s not hard to figure it out, Kyle..” Roy’s voice is soft, self-deprecating. “I did it. That’s how I feel.” When the beers appear, Roy takes his own, but doesn’t bother to hand the Lantern his own; he takes his own, taking a long draw on the amber liquid.
Kyle takes his beer from the dwarf, who gives Kyle the stink-eye for not tipping before the construct disappears. “Yeah, you did it,” Kyle nods, still not getting it because Kyle is either slow about things like this or willfully slow or perhaps both. He drinks from his glass. “It’s not a bad thing, uh, kissing another dude. It’s as normal as kissing a lady, or anyone else.” Kyle tilts his head, and adds, “With the social caveats we both already know, etcetera etcetera.”
Roy looks at Kyle. “You advocating for people kissing their dogs? Because that’s gross.” It’s an obvious attempt to move away from the subject of the actual kissing, and he takes another sip of his beer.
Kyle chuckles into the foam. “Dude did I even say that right? ‘Social caveat’? You’re the smart one. I’m learning alla this as I go, and oh boy…it’s a lot to learn.” Kyle pushes his hand through his hair, pulling his brow up to give himself a surprised expression. “But it’s worth it. Learning about…uh, like, sexuality and preferences and stuff.”
Roy makes a face. “Why?”
Kyle grins. “Because I’m part of the me-generation and I love learning about me. Me, me, me, me, myself and me.” Kyle takes another long drink again. “Once I…accepted it, anyway. That it was okay for me.”
Roy nods, and looks down at his drink, falling into silence. 18:48
Kyle waits as the long silent minutes pass, drinking his beer and watching Roy patiently, making it clear that Roy can continue the conversation on his own time.
Roy looks up at Kyle. “What?”
"What’re you feeling right now?"
Roy screws up his face, looking alarmingly like Ollie when he does so. He sucks his teeth, loudly. “Hungry. ‘Cause you never let me get my pizza.” He finishes his beer, in two long gulps, and sets the mug down.
Kyle sighs. He should’ve guessed Roy would avoid. Kyle suddenly feels really tired; exhausted really. He leans on the table on his elbows, cradling his head in his hands as he nods his chin to the food counter. “Well, go on then.”
Roy doesn’t move though, and it’s as if he’s doing it just to be obstinate. “No, you get it.” He leans back against the booth, arching an eyebrow at Kyle.
Kyle peeks through his fingers at Roy, squinting at him for a moment. “Bibbity bobbity boo,” he says, and three little construct fairies are dispatched, buzzing off towards the food. They return with a thick, wide slice of pizza each, gently laying them in front of Roy like tribute. Pepperoni, bacon, peppers and mushroom, and geezlewort cheese.
Roy goes for the peppers and mushrooms, picking up the slice and taking a huge bite, as he speaks around it. “Have you started playing Dragon Age yet?”
Kyle groans, smooshing his face in his fingers. “Ohhhh noooo. Not Roy’s Twenty Questions about Safe Small Talk Subjects again. Please, dude, anything but that!”
Roy sets his pizza down, and when he leans forward this time, there’s an earnestness about him, a deep thrumming note that runs through him: like Roy is a string that has been pulled taut against the edge of a bow, and plucked. “..what do you want from me, Kyle?”
"Trust would be nice," Kyle says, raising his head and cupping his chin. His fingers pull his skin, giving him a hangdog look. "We’ve been through so much as teammates, you as my leader, us working together, and then as buddies, roomies, friends…I want you to trust me. Not make me feel like I’m forcing you to talk to me about something other than apartments and games." Kyle sits up a bit more, just as earnest. "I mean, if you want that - if that’s the kinda friendship you want, then let me know, man. I’ll stop trying so hard and we’ll never have to talk about things like feelings and fears again."
Roy blinks. “You think I don’t trust you?”
"Not enough that you feel safe sharing your feelings, no." Kyle shakes his head. "I don’t want to keep /forcing/ you to talk with me, Roy. We can talk about games if you prefer that. I mean…did you hear the rest of what I said?"
Roy stares at Kyle. “You want me to share what I’m feeling?” It feels like more 20 questions, but Roy doesn’t care: he wants to get to the bottom of things.
"Yeah," Kyle nods and places his hands on the table, tensing slightly. "Yup."
Roy licks his lips. “I’m thinking that you’re doing a lotta souls searching and shit and all I did was kiss you.” He licks his lips again. “I’m thinking that it shouldn’t be hard for you to figure out what I’m feelin’.”
Kyle eyes widen and then he raises his fingers. “Okay, but pretend I’m stupid, like more’n usual, because the last thing I wanna do is assume /anything/ wrong about what you’re feeling, so I’m not gonna figure out anything, because I don’t want to put words in your mouth, so. No, I don’t know what you’re feeling; and no, I can’t figure it out. I’m simply not smart enough to figure it out. Essentially the same thing I’ve been saying for the past fifteen minutes.”
Roy sucks in a sharp breath, and he scans Kyle’s face, lips moving like he’s speaking, like he is saying something, but in fact, all he’s doing is saying the other man’s name over and over. He exhales and shakes his head, looking down at his pizza. “..I kissed you because I’ve been wanting to, for a long time now.” He takes a sharp breath in, one that makes him rock back. “Because I wanted to know what it felt like.” His gaze goes bright again, like the sun racing over the ocean at dawn. “And you didn’t return it. So I didn’t line too long on it.”
Kyle couldn’t have guessed any of that. He lowers his hands on the edge of the table and stares at Roy, completely dumbfounded. A Mia-brand of sarcasm and eye-rolling echoes in the back of his brain: You make him spill his beans and then you can’t even SAY anything? psh. and Kyle blinks rapidly then inhales and exhales loudly. “Ay dios. Well no wonder you didn’t wanna tell me. Now I feel like a right bastard for making you,” he finally says.
Roy blinks, pain flashing across his face as he nods, and leans back. He swings his long legs over the seat cushion of the booth, and rises up, grabbing his half eaten slice. “Yeah, well, there’s your talking.” Grabbing his mug and the plate, Roy stalks from the booth.
Kyle ”Oh you gotta be kidding me,” Kyle stands up and once more gives Roy chase. “Roy! Please, come back man. Roy I’m begging you, come talk to me, please.”
Roy snarls at him. “What the fuck do you WANNA TALK ABOUT, KYLE?!”
"Why’re you mad at me?" Kyle holds his hands out, desperate and sad. "What’d I do wrong? Why do I keep doing things wrong by you, man? What’d I do now?"
Roy throws away his pizza, tossing his mug into the washing bins, and looks back at him. “Saying things like “no wonder” makes me feel like a fucking idiot, Kyle—you wanna start there?”
"Okay, okay. Okay. I’m sorry - I’m sorry I keep saying the wrong things that make you feel terrible, I’m sorry, Roy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry, I—" Kyle cuts himself off, hanging his head. "I’m not a good friend, I don’t say the right things. I’m a fuck up who fucks up royally when it comes to treating you with respect. I’m sorry. I’m sorry."
Roy stares at the other man. “Why is it ‘no wonder’ that I didn’t want to tell you, Kyle? Tell me what you meant.”
Kyle first instinct is to say’ never mind’ but he miserably continues, waiting to be berated further. “Because what you said…I didn’t know, I didn’t realize at all. I’m sorry. So I finally got it. I finally got why it was so hard for you to tell me, it made sense, and I know it wasn’t easy for you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I fucked everything up. I’m sorry.”
Roy grabs Kyle’s wrist and half drags him out of the cafeteria, into one of the service hallways. “..so it makes sense? You get why I’d—” He turns to look at Kyle. “None of this made sense before to you?”
Kyle shakes his head, still downcast and therefore unresistant. “I’m sorry I’m such a terrible friend, Roy.”
Roy pushes his hand against Kyle’s head, his fingers tangling in the other man’s hair, exhaling as he repeats. “..d’you get why I didn’t wanna say anything, Kyle?”
Kyle pulls away and nods and murmurs again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’tve asked.”
Roy ’s voice is raw when he speaks next, watching Kyle’s face “Why? Why shouldn’t you have asked?”
"Because it made you upset, because I’m a fuck up who makes you feel like an idiot, and I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that, and I’m not good at talking to you. I hurt you, and I’m sorry."
Roy shakes his head, so sharp and so hard it’s as if he wants to knock his head from his shoulders. “You honestly—Kyle, you didn’t /understand/?” The disbelief is rife in his voice.
Kyle suddenly freezes and then looks rather stricken. “Oh god. What do I say.” He looks up at Roy. “Are you gonna hate and blame me more if I say yeah or if I say no?”
Roy moves his hand down, until his fingertips are resting against the back of Kyle’s neck. “..I’m gonna be mad if you don’t answer me.” His breathing is rough, then, as he stares at the other man.
Kyle nods and tenses himself, readying for whatever outcome his answer brings. “I didn’t understand.”
Roy nods, and drops his hand. “And now you do.”
Kyle nods, and slumps against the wall. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you all the time. I’m not a good friend.”
Roy scoffs. “You don’t.. You don’t hurt me all the time, Kyle. You just say shit that makes me wonder if I’ve been such an idiot, thinking you’d.. want things. Want that. This. That.” He mumbles, not making much sense. He exhales. “You’re a great friend. Pretty much the best..” He shakes his head. “Anyway, that beer hit me pretty hard I’m gonna go..” He nods down the hall. “I’m gonna walk it off.”