Elijah is...trying to control his hyperalertness, as best he can, although
he has no idea how well he's managing. He at least manages to get his food
and select a table (close to the door, back to the wall) without upset.
If Bucky showed up he'd leave immediately, but he hasn't, so.
Rhys slots in beside Elijah, rather than across from him, wanting to stay shoulder to shoulder.
He keeps up a pretty constant chatter of background noise as well.
"-so after three days he turned into a fox. I think so he didn't have to talk back to me? I just-- annoyed him out of the species." He gives Elijah a gentle nudge, "How about you? How did Jasper deal with the flood?"
It takes Elijah a moment to realise that it's not a rhetorical question.
"...poorly. She didn't appreciate my needs as a biological lifeform, nor
did she care for my susceptibility to concussion while passing through
doorways."
"Yeah, and six months ago you couldn't have gotten this far. You've made progress, and if you want to work on getting comfortable here again, that's cool, but you don't have to just force yourself to be all the way there with being all right with it when you're clearly not."
Does he try and force a conversation about his boyfriend's trauma that Elijah clearly doesn't want to have, or accept getting shut out of how Elijah's decided to deal with this?
In the past, Rhys would have pushed the conversation until Elijah was fully sick of it. But a lot has happened since then. He's been demoted, Elijah's graduated. If there was any reason at all why he might have listened to Rhys on this one, it's long slipped away.
"... Yeah. Okay, sure."
Rhys directs his attention down to his plate again, shutting up for the first time since they got here.
He relaxes, slightly, as they resume their meal. Every time the door opens,
every sound a little over the average bustle of the room - he pauses. But
he tries not to tense up.
By the time he's cleared his plate, he's very close to thinking that he's
succeeded, that this is somehow under control - and then someone drops a
plate, and when it shatters he's on his feet so fast it almost flips the
table.
His face blanches, and then the shame washes in, making his cheeks hot.
Rhys wants - desperately - to tell Elijah that he told him so.
But that would be tacky.
Instead he goes to take the other man's hand in his own, metal fingers seeking out flesh.
"It's okay. You're okay."
He doesn't suggest leaving, although he'll be quick to follow if the other man makes for the door. Obviously he's not the adjudicator of how Elijah deals with this.
"I know I'm okay, you don't need to patronize me," he says, too sharply,
snatching his hand back. "I'm also well aware that this proves your point."
But he relaxes, and sinks back into his seat, slowly. His stomach churns,
but he's confident enough that he'll keep everything down that he doesn't
move to leave.
"It's fine." Rhys's tone is still a little flat, but it softens up a little, "It's hard, right? You're pushing yourself, and trying to just... to feel better. It's gotta be frustrating."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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...Yes. Yes, I'd like that. Seven?
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[Still low key concerned about your PTSD.]
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...
Can I meet you at the cafeteria and decide there?
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[Specifically, he'll be waiting outside, in case Elijah gets here and immediately wants to get away.]
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Elijah feels his gorge rising just as he ascends the staircase, and the familiar self-critical inner voice snapping at him, immediately after.
He takes a breath, passes a hand over his hair and takes the last few steps to meet his...boyfriend?
"Rhys."
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Rhys closes the gap, stepping close enough to link his arm with Elijah's.
"What do you think? You feel like dining in, or shall I grab us takeout?"
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Elijah exhales deeply.
"I reserve the right to change my mind, but with that being said, let's stay."
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"Sure! Of course! Just gimmie the nod if you decide you want out of here..."
He will begin leading into the cafeteria, trying to be subtle about keeping an eye on the other man as they do so.
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Elijah is...trying to control his hyperalertness, as best he can, although he has no idea how well he's managing. He at least manages to get his food and select a table (close to the door, back to the wall) without upset.
If Bucky showed up he'd leave immediately, but he hasn't, so.
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He keeps up a pretty constant chatter of background noise as well.
"-so after three days he turned into a fox. I think so he didn't have to talk back to me? I just-- annoyed him out of the species." He gives Elijah a gentle nudge, "How about you? How did Jasper deal with the flood?"
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It takes Elijah a moment to realise that it's not a rhetorical question.
"...poorly. She didn't appreciate my needs as a biological lifeform, nor did she care for my susceptibility to concussion while passing through doorways."
Rather dry.
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That's the rhetorical question. He stabs at his food a little.
"I mean, it sounds like she wasn't deliberately beating you up this time, at least?"
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"No. I think she appreciated that if she'd killed me again, she would have just had to contend with my body until it was revived."
He flinches slightly at the sound of Rhys' fork striking ceramic, but looks away from it sharply. He can't let things like that bother him.
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Rhys arts down his fork, and touches Elijah's shoulder, gently.
"You know there's no prize at the end for doing things you don't want to do in places you don't need to be, right?"
He saw that flinch. You wanna get out of here?
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"It's been six months," he says rigidly. "If I don't challenge this, it's just going to remain a toxic environment for me. I'm fine."
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Elijah says nothing for a few moments, just sips his water. His hand doesn't shake when he sets down the glass.
"Let's just eat, Rhys."
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In the past, Rhys would have pushed the conversation until Elijah was fully sick of it. But a lot has happened since then. He's been demoted, Elijah's graduated. If there was any reason at all why he might have listened to Rhys on this one, it's long slipped away.
"... Yeah. Okay, sure."
Rhys directs his attention down to his plate again, shutting up for the first time since they got here.
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"Thank you."
He relaxes, slightly, as they resume their meal. Every time the door opens, every sound a little over the average bustle of the room - he pauses. But he tries not to tense up.
By the time he's cleared his plate, he's very close to thinking that he's succeeded, that this is somehow under control - and then someone drops a plate, and when it shatters he's on his feet so fast it almost flips the table.
His face blanches, and then the shame washes in, making his cheeks hot.
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But that would be tacky.
Instead he goes to take the other man's hand in his own, metal fingers seeking out flesh.
"It's okay. You're okay."
He doesn't suggest leaving, although he'll be quick to follow if the other man makes for the door. Obviously he's not the adjudicator of how Elijah deals with this.
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"I know I'm okay, you don't need to patronize me," he says, too sharply, snatching his hand back. "I'm also well aware that this proves your point."
But he relaxes, and sinks back into his seat, slowly. His stomach churns, but he's confident enough that he'll keep everything down that he doesn't move to leave.
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The apology is a little bit short in return, and his chest tightens a bit when Elijah sits back down.
Are they just going to stay here out of spite, now?
Rhys glances at his plate, but it was already empty, and his appetite is pretty much gone now. He pushes it away one handed.
"I'm ready to go whenever you are."
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For a moment he does nothing, just sits with his....hurt. At being snapped at.
Unexpected.
"...I apologize," he says, quiet and sincere, voice low.
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"Yes, it is."
He finishes his water.
"Your life has been much more... eventful than mine. You've never experienced anything like this?"
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