[There's a cold feeling that passes over Matt at this. It's like someone has stuck a shard of ice into his collar and shrugs off the physical sensation. Six years gone and a husband and wife had a moment. Though it sounds to be more than a moment. Because of John.
They bid Gracie goodbye. She gives Matt a pat on the hand. They'll be in touch. And for John? Her Johnny Boy, she calls him he gets an embrace as tightly as she can manage. There's some tuttering about how he needs to put more meat on his bones. Women don't like a skinny, skinny man. Matt looks away to hide his guilty grin.
[ John tries not to fuss back at her for as much grief as she gives him. Tugging at his only slightly baggy clothes and trying to straighten his loose tie. He only tugs it free as he's walking back toward Matt.
Anyway, she nearly had herself a heart issue just earlier. No need to go telling her that he's burning the midnight oil with her boy Matthew on top of all else. She'll really need more than a calming brew then. ]
Wasn't business, mate. I don't normally go in for the sort of thing she was nattering about.
[And he knows for damn sure that John knows that George has been gone for years. Matt sighs and lightly shakes his head. For the sake of appearances, he reaches for John's elbow. No cane. Just the company. Blind Matthew Murdock needs assistance.]
Are you telling me that wasn't real or that she's telling me the truth? You exorcise demons, you magically win the lottery and you speak to the dead?
I passed on a couple of notes between the old lovebirds at best.
[ He's an exorcist. He doesn't go letting anybody in all free rent now does he? Spends most of his time making sure things like that can't go happening. He gives over his elbow easy and walks them down the sidewalk a little. ]
I'm saying what she said was true but it wasn't the typical sort of client work I do for people. It isn't so much speak as they come to me cause they know I can see them. Can't always block it out. Depends on the sort of spirit I'm dealing with. Some can be the quiet, cagey types that just mosey around. Others can be real bastards who like to cause a fuss.
[John smells like cigarette smoke, a vague spice and salt fragrance and a long walk through Hell's Kitchen. Matt sighs and holds on, matching his pace.]
So you're just some go between, is that it?
[He cannot, for the life of him, keep his skeptical tone out of this line of questioning. Some day he might. Until that day he is trying to not call bullshit on each and everything or else it might end up smashing into his apartment or ripping John to thinner shreds.]
How do you know it's--that the spirits that want to see you are benevolent? That it's not a trick on the living from the other side?
[ Magic is that way and has a scent all it's own. Depends on the user as well, John's found. Faust's, for instance, always had a heady scent to it with an undertow of something heinous. It's easy to chat about while they're going at such a lazy pace. ]
Only sometimes.
[ The fact that he's even asking questions is progress enough for now. As for things smashing into his apartment? Well, if that happened with every skeptic around there'd be a lot less of them. He's safe as houses.
If those houses hadn't already been broken into by a hell beast. ]
There's a feel to it all. Most of my work is based on sharp instincts. They keep me alive. Everything has it's own energy like ripples in a pond. I just learned to read the ripples.
[Whatever fragrance that clings to John's skin--not just his clothes or his hair, his body and self--it's nothing like Matt has known. Of course it's inexplicable, of course it's singular and specific to John alone. Frustrating as he is fascinating.]
Gracie and George are then a special case? Or falling right in with the sometimes.
[The old bitty can go from being tuttering and maternal to a hellcat. Matt can only imagine what she was like twenty years ago, let alone even younger. Perhaps she had used both ends of her charm.]
I'd say that's how I see things except... more on a literal level. Heat, smell, sound, physical vibrations.
[To the energy, the psychic or spiritual ripples.]
So you just see them around, pass them by like you would anyone unless they latch on and annoy you. Am I getting that much right?
[ Just another quirk (or perk) that comes with the territory of being around him. Clearly. Being contrary is something of an art form he's worked on perfecting for most of his life. He's not about to quit now. ]
A little of both. I was minding my business and he realized I could do see him and proceeded to bang around until I went and spoke with his old missus. Smothering myself with my own pillow just wasn't an option at that juncture, I suppose.
[ Oh, he knows. He's seen it. It's a marvel and horror all balled up into one unassuming little grey-haired package. She'd near chased him off her stoop in a fit before George had offered information that only he would've known. It wasn't before he took a couple of swipes from an old flyswatter or somesuch. ]
Kind of like echolocation? I've seen it with angelic types, never in a human. [ It's clear from the tone of his voice he's impressed. It takes a bit to surprise him. ] I see some around, yeah. Others---well, I have my own fan club that likes to pop in once in a while.
Remind me of how badly I've cocked things up in the past. So yeah, you're pretty much bang on.
[Usually the places are reversed. Matthew is the one that feels intriguing and annoying to the other party. Being flipped to this side, well, to this degree is again something unique to John. There's no desire to fix. No, just take in to the full extend, to understand. The smallest corner of him, afraid of what loss feels like, remembers that it all could end if he pulls the breaks. Yet he has never been the one to do it. John has been too good.]
That's...[he's smiling and shakes his head. There's got to be more word that mean crazy and unbelievable. For all the times he says it, so much has been disproved.] What you did for them, no matter what it means, that's wonderful.
[Six years without the person you spent your best years with. That's what Gracie always said. Not the most years, the best years. He lightly clears his throat. That romantic framing to it all of course can't be missed even by John.]
Sort of. It's like..all the other senses try to fill the space. Or. I don't know. Film negatives. They have those still right? I've been sight blind for almost twenty years and I'm still trying to find the words to describe it that's accurate.
[Ah. The ones that came before. Not just lovers, no. Friends. That's what he had said once right?]
Does guilt make ghosts? Do they make themselves?
[God knows Matt carries guilt. He should not have lied to his father. He should not have baited him to fight. He should...have done a lot of things. Can't the old men rest? Is he at rest? He should not be thinking about this. ]
[ John is still surprised at all the questions. Zed is the only other person in recent times that has taken so well to all of this. No argument, just a listening ear. Okay, maybe a little push but mostly curiosity. ]
I suppose I can be nice when I want to be. Don't let anyone know about it, though. It'll murder my reputation.
[ John can't imagine that amount of time without the person that shared part of one's soul. He's still reeling from the loss of Natalie. From Desmond. It aches just the same as the day it happens. Whoever says time heals all wounds never honestly got hurt once in their bloody life, he's certain of it. ]
In some places they do. I know what you mean, I think. I know what it's like to try and describe things that can't possibly be explained. I do my best. All you really can do.
Not really sure what calls to them. Might be a little of both. A dash of a person's guilt and a lot of unfinished business. They hang on cause they feel a need to. Or maybe someone else needs them to, who knows?
[ He senses some guilt and trepidation there in Matt. Gently, he clears his throat. ]
There, uh, someone you're worried you're still carrying around?
[ John already knows but he hasn't said. How does one bring that up exactly? ]
[For this situation, Matt is trying to make sense of what is there with the facts. Questions and prodding have been as respectful as he can manage even when he feels very skeptical. Listening and absorbing in the way that he does to try and take a hold of what is beyond him.]
Sour then sweet, that's you always.
[From the start. John naturally makes him feel fond without much effort. Ah though that is Matt's downfall. A little kindness, the right push and he's down like a punch to a glass jaw.]
I won't tell anyone.
[Who would believe him? Wanting to reunite two old lovebirds. The birds of a feather that they are, walking down the New York City streets are of another color. Funny how they both are trying to describe what cannot be explained.
Matt sighs and gives John's arm a squeeze. His lips feel dry and his heart thuds.]
[ A rough chuckle at that but his eyes are soft around the edges. Even if it's an expression Matt can't physically see, he's traced the shape of it more times than even John can count so far. How did they manage to get this far, the two of them? ]
Yeah, you'd know wouldn't you, chief?
[ Surprisingly, it's easy for John to go down with hits like that. Body shots always send him crumbling. Those taps to the heart do him in no matter how hard he tries. ]
Good man.
[ Not many. Annie, maybe but she doesn't want anything to do with the likes of him anymore. Ran on back to her convent. Matt mentions his father as they walk and John's heart does something strange in his chest.
How do you tell a person you've seen what could very well be the ghost of their loving old man hanging about? John may not know much about how good families like that work but he knows caring when he sees it. He knows the bloke hangs about cause he feels like he still needs to. That isn't on Matt, though. ]
[The way John speaks, the accent and infliction changes with his emotions. Highs and lows, sing song and playful to a rumble and growl. The music of it ties up Matt. No, he can't see his exact expression, though he really notes just how they are sweet on one another. With or without complications.
Ah he cannot think like that. He won't. So he gives the arm a squeeze.]
You can count on me. I'll say I didn't see anything.
[Reliable blind puns. Trying to take the sting away from the emotional sucker punch. Weren't they going to give one another space? Did they imply something to the effect of staying friends? What was it?]
Yeah. Battlin' Jack Murdock was how he was billed. He wanted Fightin'--like the Fightin' Irish, his manager once upon a time said it would limit his appeal. By the time he got a name for himself it was too late. Besides, I was always his biggest fan.
[ He laughs then, maybe a little harder than he should. It was a terrible joke at the other man's expense. It suits him though. His humor and his way of looking at the world. John appreciates that.
Appreciates what they have despite the complications that have cropped up more recently. ]
Battlin' Jack, that's right. Took the mat a few times. Heard he was hell on the ones he didn't go down though. Had you to help with the stitches at least.
[At least someone can laugh with him. Foggy has stopped. He guffaws and has staunchly become an advocate even when Matt can't stomach the way people tiptoe and pander out of their discomfort. Blindness is what it is. Like life, like death. He can't fight it.
Strolling along with John on the city street he can pretend that it's not as big of a deal as it is.]
A few times? That's--hah. Yeah he was an underdog. I was his biggest fan and medic.
[Although--?]
I don't remember telling you about that.
[Given John's strong feelings about children and alcohol, Matt feels like he would have remembered the reaction.]
[ Maybe that's what makes them different enough to have delved into this, then. This strange territory they already occupied before all the demons and beasts and the like. He hopes it's enough they can continue. ]
All right then, you were playing nurse then how many was it? [ Teasing of course. ] Right you were to be his best fan. I was always more fond of Mexican wrestling.
[ His heart does a funny thing in his chest. He knows he can't hide that. Licking his lips, he casts a glance down as they continue walking. ]
[They do have very similar coping mechanisms. Matt chooses to take up causes that aren't his own, fight with all that he is and shove the pain down as many times as it takes. He sees this in John even more than ever now that he finally has more details.]
That's not a sport, last I knew.
[He would never say that in the barrio streets. Just here. Just with John. Matt's head tilts hearing the skipped beat.]
I don't think so. I would have remembered. But...it was just the two of us. Not very many candidates.
[And it isn't like John can read his mind. That fluttering beat out of sync though.]
It's entertainment at least, don't knock it. Come on.
[ A gentle elbow aimed at his ribs as they walk. He chuckles. It's almost easy to try and put that other slip up out of his head but Matt doesn't seem ready to let it go. The man's got a good head for remembering things. Wouldn't be a lawyer if he wasn't. Memory. Research. it's important. ]
I'll knock it as a sport. You have to have seen real boxing.
[He's got eyes. And that sounds like an enjoyable English past time with the football, right? John's not the typical Englishman though. Not at all.
There's that other little stumbled beat. It's like listening to a drummer lose their grip on the sticks. The beat goes on, the sound though.]
...maybe you dunno. And maybe because like it or not I'm soft on you, [which is the fucking truth and he's trying to keep his temper out of it] but I never talk about my father with just anyone. Especially me patching him up.
[As to why he's being so defensive, why is this so irregular, it's like something is on the tip of his tongue.]
Never a real match. Had plenty of brawls while watching the sport or at the pub in general.
[ Mostly at the pub. He thinks. John's not too sure of the where part of the equation. Most things he fights don't have proper rules and all. Demons, surprisingly, have general rules of engagement most stick to. ]
Oh, this again. It's a dangerous thing, that. [ Being soft on someone like him. Doesn't mean he doesn't want it. Doesn't mean he doesn't crave it. He knows he should get away from him and yet here he still bloody is. ] All right, okay.
[ he draws in a shaky breath and reaches up to rub at the back of his neck. ]
Okay, I've---I didn't hear it from you. He told me. [ He clears his throat, leg bouncing in agitation. ] Jack told me.
[Sometime. Some place. A real match for John to see. Not some bunch of goons in masks. The irony being that is their world too. The fights are overblown. There are fewer rules. Not near so many demons on Matt's side of things. He's just one man trying to defend one neighborhood.]
John. Don't--[It's too late now though for that. Matt lightly shakes his head. His lips purse and he clutches and somehow wants to shove John away. He doesn't just wrinkling up the sleeve of his coat something fierce.]
[ He chuckles at the idea of the two of them going to watch a match. Honestly, he'd be just as keen on hearing Matt talk about it the whole night just from what he remembers. Of course that's just interest, not how much he enjoys hearing the other man's voice and enthusiasm over something he really enjoys. Obviously. ]
I'm---[ Cat's out of the bag now, isn't it? He clears his throat and his jaw clenches. ]---What do you want me to say here?
I'm not, Matt. I wouldn't muck about with something like this.
[On the outside it would look like two salty types out to watch men beat one another to a pulp. For Matty Murdock, son of Battlin' Jack, it would be a date, a meaningful way to connect the present to the past. He hasn't been to a match as a ringside spectator since Jack Murdock bled out in an alleyway. It's not the same. It never will be. The connection to the sport resonates with him, through the years in his head and heart as sure as he feels the world around him.
Tension is high in John, his teeth meeting and clutching as though trying to buckle down and hold onto what he wants to refuse. At least it isn't a lie.
Matt's hands clutch on him tighter. He swallows.]
Why--why isn't he at peace?
[Guilt as fresh as that horrible night is on him in a second. When you're dead and gone, after the prayers are said and the box you rest in forever is in the ground you're not supposed to do much more than see the afterlife. Wasn't Jack faithful? Was he a sinner? Or did Matt's actions somehow mess it up so that the old man would never know peace and comfort?]
[ From the outside it could be a lot of things. Lucky there aren't a lot of spectators on the street right now. They can just be a couple of blokes trying to sort something out.
John doesn't try to tug away from the tightening grip, knowing he's searching for some kind of stability. If he can at least be that for him, then he will. This is always the hardest bloody part of it. ]
It doesn't always work out simply. Sometimes---sometimes spirits just can't let go. Other times the living have trouble letting go. I think---[ Because he hasn't asked plainly. He was too close for it all. What kind of conversation is he supposed to have with his sometimes boyfriend's ghost dad? ]---I think he wasn't ready to let go of you.
Wanted to keep close and look out for you as best he could, considering.
[Blokes sorting something out is part of why Matt isn't making a bigger scene. The little tells are there. John knows them, or rather he is incapable of hiding them. His nose scrunches and the crows feet at the corners of his eyes deepen as his eyes screw up reflexively. Breathing out and in through his nose at least bolsters his ability to not make a noise of anguish aside what is becoming a sniff.]
And--and he's seen--[Everything. Then? All of his choices, the good and the bad. Beating Roscoe Sweeney bloody in his own home. Avenging the little girl crying in the night. Hell's Kitchen singing his praise and shouting scorn at the Devil.
Matt shakes his head and his fingers loosen from John's coat.]
It should't have happened, he shouldn't have died. I shouldn't--I shouldn't have even been in his life he could have been something great, could have---[twenty plus years of regret and pain being pushed back now laid bare.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
They bid Gracie goodbye. She gives Matt a pat on the hand. They'll be in touch. And for John? Her Johnny Boy, she calls him he gets an embrace as tightly as she can manage. There's some tuttering about how he needs to put more meat on his bones. Women don't like a skinny, skinny man. Matt looks away to hide his guilty grin.
The taxi pulls away and they're alone.]
Do you usually have business with my clients?
no subject
Anyway, she nearly had herself a heart issue just earlier. No need to go telling her that he's burning the midnight oil with her boy Matthew on top of all else. She'll really need more than a calming brew then. ]
Wasn't business, mate. I don't normally go in for the sort of thing she was nattering about.
no subject
[And he knows for damn sure that John knows that George has been gone for years. Matt sighs and lightly shakes his head. For the sake of appearances, he reaches for John's elbow. No cane. Just the company. Blind Matthew Murdock needs assistance.]
Are you telling me that wasn't real or that she's telling me the truth? You exorcise demons, you magically win the lottery and you speak to the dead?
no subject
[ He's an exorcist. He doesn't go letting anybody in all free rent now does he? Spends most of his time making sure things like that can't go happening. He gives over his elbow easy and walks them down the sidewalk a little. ]
I'm saying what she said was true but it wasn't the typical sort of client work I do for people. It isn't so much speak as they come to me cause they know I can see them. Can't always block it out. Depends on the sort of spirit I'm dealing with. Some can be the quiet, cagey types that just mosey around. Others can be real bastards who like to cause a fuss.
no subject
So you're just some go between, is that it?
[He cannot, for the life of him, keep his skeptical tone out of this line of questioning. Some day he might. Until that day he is trying to not call bullshit on each and everything or else it might end up smashing into his apartment or ripping John to thinner shreds.]
How do you know it's--that the spirits that want to see you are benevolent? That it's not a trick on the living from the other side?
[Hell or what-have-you throwing out lines.]
no subject
Only sometimes.
[ The fact that he's even asking questions is progress enough for now. As for things smashing into his apartment? Well, if that happened with every skeptic around there'd be a lot less of them. He's safe as houses.
If those houses hadn't already been broken into by a hell beast. ]
There's a feel to it all. Most of my work is based on sharp instincts. They keep me alive. Everything has it's own energy like ripples in a pond. I just learned to read the ripples.
no subject
Gracie and George are then a special case? Or falling right in with the sometimes.
[The old bitty can go from being tuttering and maternal to a hellcat. Matt can only imagine what she was like twenty years ago, let alone even younger. Perhaps she had used both ends of her charm.]
I'd say that's how I see things except... more on a literal level. Heat, smell, sound, physical vibrations.
[To the energy, the psychic or spiritual ripples.]
So you just see them around, pass them by like you would anyone unless they latch on and annoy you. Am I getting that much right?
no subject
A little of both. I was minding my business and he realized I could do see him and proceeded to bang around until I went and spoke with his old missus. Smothering myself with my own pillow just wasn't an option at that juncture, I suppose.
[ Oh, he knows. He's seen it. It's a marvel and horror all balled up into one unassuming little grey-haired package. She'd near chased him off her stoop in a fit before George had offered information that only he would've known. It wasn't before he took a couple of swipes from an old flyswatter or somesuch. ]
Kind of like echolocation? I've seen it with angelic types, never in a human. [ It's clear from the tone of his voice he's impressed. It takes a bit to surprise him. ] I see some around, yeah. Others---well, I have my own fan club that likes to pop in once in a while.
Remind me of how badly I've cocked things up in the past. So yeah, you're pretty much bang on.
no subject
That's...[he's smiling and shakes his head. There's got to be more word that mean crazy and unbelievable. For all the times he says it, so much has been disproved.] What you did for them, no matter what it means, that's wonderful.
[Six years without the person you spent your best years with. That's what Gracie always said. Not the most years, the best years. He lightly clears his throat. That romantic framing to it all of course can't be missed even by John.]
Sort of. It's like..all the other senses try to fill the space. Or. I don't know. Film negatives. They have those still right? I've been sight blind for almost twenty years and I'm still trying to find the words to describe it that's accurate.
[Ah. The ones that came before. Not just lovers, no. Friends. That's what he had said once right?]
Does guilt make ghosts? Do they make themselves?
[God knows Matt carries guilt. He should not have lied to his father. He should not have baited him to fight. He should...have done a lot of things. Can't the old men rest? Is he at rest? He should not be thinking about this. ]
no subject
I suppose I can be nice when I want to be. Don't let anyone know about it, though. It'll murder my reputation.
[ John can't imagine that amount of time without the person that shared part of one's soul. He's still reeling from the loss of Natalie. From Desmond. It aches just the same as the day it happens. Whoever says time heals all wounds never honestly got hurt once in their bloody life, he's certain of it. ]
In some places they do. I know what you mean, I think. I know what it's like to try and describe things that can't possibly be explained. I do my best. All you really can do.
Not really sure what calls to them. Might be a little of both. A dash of a person's guilt and a lot of unfinished business. They hang on cause they feel a need to. Or maybe someone else needs them to, who knows?
[ He senses some guilt and trepidation there in Matt. Gently, he clears his throat. ]
There, uh, someone you're worried you're still carrying around?
[ John already knows but he hasn't said. How does one bring that up exactly? ]
no subject
Sour then sweet, that's you always.
[From the start. John naturally makes him feel fond without much effort. Ah though that is Matt's downfall. A little kindness, the right push and he's down like a punch to a glass jaw.]
I won't tell anyone.
[Who would believe him? Wanting to reunite two old lovebirds. The birds of a feather that they are, walking down the New York City streets are of another color. Funny how they both are trying to describe what cannot be explained.
Matt sighs and gives John's arm a squeeze. His lips feel dry and his heart thuds.]
...I think about my father a lot.
no subject
Yeah, you'd know wouldn't you, chief?
[ Surprisingly, it's easy for John to go down with hits like that. Body shots always send him crumbling. Those taps to the heart do him in no matter how hard he tries. ]
Good man.
[ Not many. Annie, maybe but she doesn't want anything to do with the likes of him anymore. Ran on back to her convent. Matt mentions his father as they walk and John's heart does something strange in his chest.
How do you tell a person you've seen what could very well be the ghost of their loving old man hanging about? John may not know much about how good families like that work but he knows caring when he sees it. He knows the bloke hangs about cause he feels like he still needs to. That isn't on Matt, though. ]
He was a boxer, wasn't he?
no subject
Ah he cannot think like that. He won't. So he gives the arm a squeeze.]
You can count on me. I'll say I didn't see anything.
[Reliable blind puns. Trying to take the sting away from the emotional sucker punch. Weren't they going to give one another space? Did they imply something to the effect of staying friends? What was it?]
Yeah. Battlin' Jack Murdock was how he was billed. He wanted Fightin'--like the Fightin' Irish, his manager once upon a time said it would limit his appeal. By the time he got a name for himself it was too late. Besides, I was always his biggest fan.
no subject
Appreciates what they have despite the complications that have cropped up more recently. ]
Battlin' Jack, that's right. Took the mat a few times. Heard he was hell on the ones he didn't go down though. Had you to help with the stitches at least.
no subject
Strolling along with John on the city street he can pretend that it's not as big of a deal as it is.]
A few times? That's--hah. Yeah he was an underdog. I was his biggest fan and medic.
[Although--?]
I don't remember telling you about that.
[Given John's strong feelings about children and alcohol, Matt feels like he would have remembered the reaction.]
no subject
All right then, you were playing nurse then how many was it? [ Teasing of course. ] Right you were to be his best fan. I was always more fond of Mexican wrestling.
[ His heart does a funny thing in his chest. He knows he can't hide that. Licking his lips, he casts a glance down as they continue walking. ]
Didn't you?
no subject
That's not a sport, last I knew.
[He would never say that in the barrio streets. Just here. Just with John. Matt's head tilts hearing the skipped beat.]
I don't think so. I would have remembered. But...it was just the two of us. Not very many candidates.
[And it isn't like John can read his mind. That fluttering beat out of sync though.]
no subject
[ A gentle elbow aimed at his ribs as they walk. He chuckles. It's almost easy to try and put that other slip up out of his head but Matt doesn't seem ready to let it go. The man's got a good head for remembering things. Wouldn't be a lawyer if he wasn't. Memory. Research. it's important. ]
Must've heard you mention it someplace.
[ A lie. ]
no subject
[He's got eyes. And that sounds like an enjoyable English past time with the football, right? John's not the typical Englishman though. Not at all.
There's that other little stumbled beat. It's like listening to a drummer lose their grip on the sticks. The beat goes on, the sound though.]
...maybe you dunno. And maybe because like it or not I'm soft on you, [which is the fucking truth and he's trying to keep his temper out of it] but I never talk about my father with just anyone. Especially me patching him up.
[As to why he's being so defensive, why is this so irregular, it's like something is on the tip of his tongue.]
What's going on, John?
no subject
[ Mostly at the pub. He thinks. John's not too sure of the where part of the equation. Most things he fights don't have proper rules and all. Demons, surprisingly, have general rules of engagement most stick to. ]
Oh, this again. It's a dangerous thing, that. [ Being soft on someone like him. Doesn't mean he doesn't want it. Doesn't mean he doesn't crave it. He knows he should get away from him and yet here he still bloody is. ] All right, okay.
[ he draws in a shaky breath and reaches up to rub at the back of his neck. ]
Okay, I've---I didn't hear it from you. He told me. [ He clears his throat, leg bouncing in agitation. ] Jack told me.
[ And that is the truth. ]
no subject
[Sometime. Some place. A real match for John to see. Not some bunch of goons in masks. The irony being that is their world too. The fights are overblown. There are fewer rules. Not near so many demons on Matt's side of things. He's just one man trying to defend one neighborhood.]
John. Don't--[It's too late now though for that. Matt lightly shakes his head. His lips purse and he clutches and somehow wants to shove John away. He doesn't just wrinkling up the sleeve of his coat something fierce.]
Don't bullshit me, John. I couldn't take it.
no subject
[ He chuckles at the idea of the two of them going to watch a match. Honestly, he'd be just as keen on hearing Matt talk about it the whole night just from what he remembers. Of course that's just interest, not how much he enjoys hearing the other man's voice and enthusiasm over something he really enjoys. Obviously. ]
I'm---[ Cat's out of the bag now, isn't it? He clears his throat and his jaw clenches. ]---What do you want me to say here?
I'm not, Matt. I wouldn't muck about with something like this.
no subject
Tension is high in John, his teeth meeting and clutching as though trying to buckle down and hold onto what he wants to refuse. At least it isn't a lie.
Matt's hands clutch on him tighter. He swallows.]
Why--why isn't he at peace?
[Guilt as fresh as that horrible night is on him in a second. When you're dead and gone, after the prayers are said and the box you rest in forever is in the ground you're not supposed to do much more than see the afterlife. Wasn't Jack faithful? Was he a sinner? Or did Matt's actions somehow mess it up so that the old man would never know peace and comfort?]
no subject
John doesn't try to tug away from the tightening grip, knowing he's searching for some kind of stability. If he can at least be that for him, then he will. This is always the hardest bloody part of it. ]
It doesn't always work out simply. Sometimes---sometimes spirits just can't let go. Other times the living have trouble letting go. I think---[ Because he hasn't asked plainly. He was too close for it all. What kind of conversation is he supposed to have with his sometimes boyfriend's ghost dad? ]---I think he wasn't ready to let go of you.
Wanted to keep close and look out for you as best he could, considering.
no subject
And--and he's seen--[Everything. Then? All of his choices, the good and the bad. Beating Roscoe Sweeney bloody in his own home. Avenging the little girl crying in the night. Hell's Kitchen singing his praise and shouting scorn at the Devil.
Matt shakes his head and his fingers loosen from John's coat.]
It should't have happened, he shouldn't have died. I shouldn't--I shouldn't have even been in his life he could have been something great, could have---[twenty plus years of regret and pain being pushed back now laid bare.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)