[It takes Harlan longer than usual to make his way over to Tucker's given that he has to trek across the island. It's cold and dark and the walk does help but he's not willing to admit it. He doesn't trust himself not to pull a Michael and beeline for Leo's, but luckily there's some ocean in the way and he's absolutely not about to brave a boat in these conditions.
But he makes it to Tucker's eventually. He lets himself in since Tucker said he'd leave the door unlocked.]
Hey.
[He leans his back against the door and busies himself counting slats in the blinds across the room. This is uncomfortable. He's not proud of having to saddle someone else with this shit, especially JT of all people. But the alternative was getting dangerous, so here he is, tail between his legs.]
[Tucker's decided to make this as casual as possible. He knows it's not easy for Harlan to lean on him of all people, he's not great at the mental, emotional shit. So don't make it weird.
He's seated on a chair, giving Harlan free reign of the couch, and he's already put out a couple of beers he's been saving for a rainy day. This seems rainy enough.]
Have a seat. What's up?
[The words are casual, but he says them with enough weight that it's obvious he knows what kind of thing is up. He knows why Harlan's here, he's just offering a way for him to vent- if he wants.
[Harlan greatly appreciates keeping it casual. He also appreciates that Tucker is giving him space by positioning himself in the chair. Harlan crosses the room and drops himself onto the couch, his arms folded. Pacing around the room would just make the both nervous, but sitting doesn't feel right, either. He bounces his leg to split the different.]
Long story short, Michael did something fucking stupid and started a fight with Leo. Shit escalated. I want to hurt him. I can't stop thinking about hurting him.
[He says it as an explanation, but his tone betrays him and it turns into a bit of a vent. He can't bitch to Michael, obviously, and the rest of his friends either couldn't handle this or they're Kyna, who already has a bug up her ass about the Visitor. Tucker's the only one who will let what he says stay in this room.
He leans forward and scrubs his hands over his face.]
I'm so fucking mad at both of them but I have to be on Michael's side. And I'm in the fucking middle of it. I have to be or someone's gonna end up dead.
[Oh. That's uhhhh that's a lot. But he's gotta take it all in, and he's gotta make sense of it, because Harlan's depending on him. Which... is a weird feeling, but whatever, no time to think about it.
Tucker leans forward too, but more in listening mode than anything else.]
Was it that freaky monster thing again? [He heard about it during the Null invasion. He hasn't heard much about it since, but it stands to reason. Tucker doubts Michael could fight anyone himself.]
And shit, dude, if he's the one who fucked up, I mean. You don't have to stop being with him or whatever, but he should have to own up to that. Still, pretty shitty you're stuck between them. Think it's possible to reason with this Leo guy?
[Just pretend they're talking about regular relationship problems. Not, like attempted murder or whatever is happening here.]
Also you, uh. [Shit, how does he word this? And how is he, of all people, at a loss for words?]
You know you won't hurt him, right? That's just... your brain. It's not really what you want to do.
[He doesn't like Tucker talking about Michael like this. He did sort of invite it, but still. The last thing he needs is a reminder that Michael fucked up in a massive way.]
He's very aware, trust me. He's owned up to it. That's not the problem.
[Even though... Yeah, it kind of is. Part of Harlan's anger stems from the fact that he can't be mad at Michael. That would only make things worse. Michael's already hating himself over it all, and for the time being, he should, but god, Harlan wants to yell at him. Wants to tell him how fucking terrifying it was to get that text in the middle of the night, how hurt he is that Michael hid it from him until it was too late. They're going to have to deal with it sooner or later, but it's not going to be soon enough for Harlan, and he's very, very bad at patience at times like this.]
I don't know about Leo. Maybe. He uses enchantment magic, too. Stay away from him.
[He settles back into the couch to pick at his jeans. And then Tucker says that it's just his brain.
Wait, what?
Harlan's heard similar sentiments before, always about his OCD or his PTSD. Nothing bad will happen if he stops counting, if he doesn't hurt himself, if he lets a friend hug him. Is that what Tucker thinks this is? An irrational compulsion to hurt Leo? It's not the same thing. It is really what he wants to do.
Then again, no, it's not. If he wanted to hurt Leo, he would've done it by now. He wants to, he does, but he knows he'll deeply regret it later. It'll stick to him like hurting Robin sticks to him. It won't be as gratifying as it feels like it will. That's the only good thing that came out of everything with James; Harlan knows better now. Acting on his urges isn't worth it, not by any stretch, and that's all the more reason to not let himself slip in the future.]
I know.
[He glances up at Tucker briefly to let him know he appreciates the confidence. Even if it's just born out of ignorance to how real the urges are, it helps to hear that, yeah, some part of it is just his brain.]
But that doesn't make it easier to stop thinking about it. I want to stop thinking about it.
[Well, at least he owned up to it. Tucker was about to get mad if one of his best friends' boyfriends was an asshole. But it also looks like that was a bad move, Harlan doesn't want to talk about Michael.
He doesn't want to talk about Leo, either. Or his urges. Tucker was going about this in the wrong way, he guesses. So instead of commenting on any of the stuff Harlan just said, he decides to switch gears.
He's not gonna talk Harlan through this. He's just gonna help him forget until it passes for now.]
So you want to think about something else, let's do something else. You wanna get drunk and watch my shitty movie?
[Harlan laughs through his nose. He knew he could count on you, Tucker.]
The one that's like two days long? I really don't.
[The offer to drink, though. Hm. Ordinarily Harlan would pass—alcohol tends to make nights like this worse, and he'd just be trading one bad habit for another... But, well. He didn't bring his weed with him, and Tucker will be around to stop him from getting sad, and he's constantly trading bad habits around to play triage. Drinking is not the worst thing he could be getting up to tonight.]
What are my booze options? I'd bet money that you've been hoarding shit so don't hold out on me.
[Damn. He'll trick Harlan into watching that someday. Someday.]
Yeah, alright. Seems like as good a time as any to break out the good stuff.
[Tucker rolls to his feet and moves over to the kitchen, digs around in the back of a cupboard, and returns with two glasses and a bottle of scotch. He got this from an event forever ago, and he's kept it since.]
I've got this. Don't know the vintage because the label's in some alien language, but it's good shit. And you know I'm picky as hell.
[He puts the glasses on the coffee table and pours one for each of them. This should get them started, and by the time they're finished, hopefully they'll forget why.]
[Tucker said, and then failed, and also left the dimension!!!!!!]
I can't believe you're the type of guy who cares about vintage.
[He can, actually, but he will never get over Tucker constantly being on one extreme or the other when it comes to standards. JT's indeed a picky fuck when it comes to food and alcohol, but clothes? Forget it.
He takes the glass and—oh, wow, that's strong. Not terrible, though. He doesn't drink often enough to appreciate good scotch, but he trusts Tucker's judgment. Even if he didn't, this will do. It's a means to an end.
He knows full well, though, that Tucker is not the sharing type. A donation from his private liquor stash is already a kindness reserved for his closest friends, but the fact that Harlan's even here speaks volumes.]
Thanks.
[It's heartfelt, but he says it into his glass to avoid making it into a big thing. Tucker would not want that, he's sure, so he'll lean in. He tries to keep the rest of the night free from any sappy displays of appreciation. Mindlessly shooting the shit is a better distraction, anyway.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text; night of oct 21
first of all dont panic.
but if ur available can i take u up on ur offer?
i need a distraction.
[And a minute later:]
u can tell me to fuck off.
text;
stop it im not gonna tell u to fuck off
where u wanna meet?
my place, urs?
somewhere else?
no subject
or somewhere else. idc.
not here.
michaels here.
i cant teleport.
no subject
ill unlock the door for u
get over here
no subject
[It takes Harlan longer than usual to make his way over to Tucker's given that he has to trek across the island. It's cold and dark and the walk does help but he's not willing to admit it. He doesn't trust himself not to pull a Michael and beeline for Leo's, but luckily there's some ocean in the way and he's absolutely not about to brave a boat in these conditions.
But he makes it to Tucker's eventually. He lets himself in since Tucker said he'd leave the door unlocked.]
Hey.
[He leans his back against the door and busies himself counting slats in the blinds across the room. This is uncomfortable. He's not proud of having to saddle someone else with this shit, especially JT of all people. But the alternative was getting dangerous, so here he is, tail between his legs.]
no subject
[Tucker's decided to make this as casual as possible. He knows it's not easy for Harlan to lean on him of all people, he's not great at the mental, emotional shit. So don't make it weird.
He's seated on a chair, giving Harlan free reign of the couch, and he's already put out a couple of beers he's been saving for a rainy day. This seems rainy enough.]
Have a seat. What's up?
[The words are casual, but he says them with enough weight that it's obvious he knows what kind of thing is up. He knows why Harlan's here, he's just offering a way for him to vent- if he wants.
Otherwise, they just talk.]
no subject
Long story short, Michael did something fucking stupid and started a fight with Leo. Shit escalated. I want to hurt him. I can't stop thinking about hurting him.
[He says it as an explanation, but his tone betrays him and it turns into a bit of a vent. He can't bitch to Michael, obviously, and the rest of his friends either couldn't handle this or they're Kyna, who already has a bug up her ass about the Visitor. Tucker's the only one who will let what he says stay in this room.
He leans forward and scrubs his hands over his face.]
I'm so fucking mad at both of them but I have to be on Michael's side. And I'm in the fucking middle of it. I have to be or someone's gonna end up dead.
[...Okay, so it's solidly a vent.]
no subject
Tucker leans forward too, but more in listening mode than anything else.]
Was it that freaky monster thing again? [He heard about it during the Null invasion. He hasn't heard much about it since, but it stands to reason. Tucker doubts Michael could fight anyone himself.]
And shit, dude, if he's the one who fucked up, I mean. You don't have to stop being with him or whatever, but he should have to own up to that. Still, pretty shitty you're stuck between them. Think it's possible to reason with this Leo guy?
[Just pretend they're talking about regular relationship problems. Not, like attempted murder or whatever is happening here.]
Also you, uh. [Shit, how does he word this? And how is he, of all people, at a loss for words?]
You know you won't hurt him, right? That's just... your brain. It's not really what you want to do.
no subject
[He doesn't like Tucker talking about Michael like this. He did sort of invite it, but still. The last thing he needs is a reminder that Michael fucked up in a massive way.]
He's very aware, trust me. He's owned up to it. That's not the problem.
[Even though... Yeah, it kind of is. Part of Harlan's anger stems from the fact that he can't be mad at Michael. That would only make things worse. Michael's already hating himself over it all, and for the time being, he should, but god, Harlan wants to yell at him. Wants to tell him how fucking terrifying it was to get that text in the middle of the night, how hurt he is that Michael hid it from him until it was too late. They're going to have to deal with it sooner or later, but it's not going to be soon enough for Harlan, and he's very, very bad at patience at times like this.]
I don't know about Leo. Maybe. He uses enchantment magic, too. Stay away from him.
[He settles back into the couch to pick at his jeans. And then Tucker says that it's just his brain.
Wait, what?
Harlan's heard similar sentiments before, always about his OCD or his PTSD. Nothing bad will happen if he stops counting, if he doesn't hurt himself, if he lets a friend hug him. Is that what Tucker thinks this is? An irrational compulsion to hurt Leo? It's not the same thing. It is really what he wants to do.
Then again, no, it's not. If he wanted to hurt Leo, he would've done it by now. He wants to, he does, but he knows he'll deeply regret it later. It'll stick to him like hurting Robin sticks to him. It won't be as gratifying as it feels like it will. That's the only good thing that came out of everything with James; Harlan knows better now. Acting on his urges isn't worth it, not by any stretch, and that's all the more reason to not let himself slip in the future.]
I know.
[He glances up at Tucker briefly to let him know he appreciates the confidence. Even if it's just born out of ignorance to how real the urges are, it helps to hear that, yeah, some part of it is just his brain.]
But that doesn't make it easier to stop thinking about it. I want to stop thinking about it.
no subject
He doesn't want to talk about Leo, either. Or his urges. Tucker was going about this in the wrong way, he guesses. So instead of commenting on any of the stuff Harlan just said, he decides to switch gears.
He's not gonna talk Harlan through this. He's just gonna help him forget until it passes for now.]
So you want to think about something else, let's do something else. You wanna get drunk and watch my shitty movie?
no subject
The one that's like two days long? I really don't.
[The offer to drink, though. Hm. Ordinarily Harlan would pass—alcohol tends to make nights like this worse, and he'd just be trading one bad habit for another... But, well. He didn't bring his weed with him, and Tucker will be around to stop him from getting sad, and he's constantly trading bad habits around to play triage. Drinking is not the worst thing he could be getting up to tonight.]
What are my booze options? I'd bet money that you've been hoarding shit so don't hold out on me.
no subject
Yeah, alright. Seems like as good a time as any to break out the good stuff.
[Tucker rolls to his feet and moves over to the kitchen, digs around in the back of a cupboard, and returns with two glasses and a bottle of scotch. He got this from an event forever ago, and he's kept it since.]
I've got this. Don't know the vintage because the label's in some alien language, but it's good shit. And you know I'm picky as hell.
[He puts the glasses on the coffee table and pours one for each of them. This should get them started, and by the time they're finished, hopefully they'll forget why.]
no subject
I can't believe you're the type of guy who cares about vintage.
[He can, actually, but he will never get over Tucker constantly being on one extreme or the other when it comes to standards. JT's indeed a picky fuck when it comes to food and alcohol, but clothes? Forget it.
He takes the glass and—oh, wow, that's strong. Not terrible, though. He doesn't drink often enough to appreciate good scotch, but he trusts Tucker's judgment. Even if he didn't, this will do. It's a means to an end.
He knows full well, though, that Tucker is not the sharing type. A donation from his private liquor stash is already a kindness reserved for his closest friends, but the fact that Harlan's even here speaks volumes.]
Thanks.
[It's heartfelt, but he says it into his glass to avoid making it into a big thing. Tucker would not want that, he's sure, so he'll lean in. He tries to keep the rest of the night free from any sappy displays of appreciation. Mindlessly shooting the shit is a better distraction, anyway.]