winksandnods | Appointments

[It hasn’t sat well with him at all that, only a few days ago, he had been intent on beating Anthony – beating anyone, really – senseless for so much as looking in his direction. But between waking every morning to see the moon drawing ever-closer (and being distracted by a burgeoning sense of anxiety,) and finding himself wrapped up in the feelings and concerns of some other people, it has taken him a while to crack open that journal and to do more than just stare at that list of contacts indecisively.

He is afraid, and not only of that giant, blazing rock hurtling towards them. He is afraid of being hated by someone he cared for. As he looks at Anthony’s name on the contact list, an old, irrational fear grips him like an iron fist, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. That fear of living alone, of having no one holds strong.

It shouldn’t be this hard, he tells himself. The moon – and the uncertainty of what would happen to all of them - isn’t helping his nerves, of course.

The fact of the matter is, he doesn’t know Mr. Anthony as well as he knows Doc – so there is no denying that the former’s absence wouldn’t hurt as badly as the latter’s. But, still, it would. It would, because he couldn’t help letting himself get attached to a smiling face, to someone with kind, supportive words, to someone, especially, who seemed to have some of the paternal presence Doc had – or whom Mac hoped, on some subconscious level, that he would find in him.

If Mr. Anthony rejected his apology and wanted nothing to do with him, there were still other people, other friends whom he had here, he muses. If the Malnosso did not return them home while he was still here.

The kid feels a lump rise into his throat at the thought. Swallowing it back, and his selfishness, he reminds himself that everyone here deserved to be home, not to be stranded in some place where they were all at risk of being captured and hurt. ‘Hurt’ – it was an easier word to use than ‘tortured’.

Pulling in a slow breath, Mac gazes at the open journal in his lap, not knowing if it has been an hour or a minute.

Even if his violent behaviour was the work of the mask, he had been the one wearing it, the one whom had put it on. Maybe, maybe if he had tried hard enough, he could have yanked it off before becoming just the kind of guy he couldn’t stand. The kind of guy who had harassed him in the schoolyard and sent him home with a bloody nose and a mind muddled with fear.

It is exactly what Doc had lectured him never to do.

Be the better man. Don’t stoop to their level.

Keep it here, son. Don’t be a bully outside the ring.

At least he can find some redemption in doing what is right, right now. It is time to man up, and to take whatever blows would come like he would be prepared to do when standing toe-to-toe with someone between the ropes.

He places the call, waiting.]

Edited 2011-10-28 06:54 (UTC)

[Guy and Kim had put up some fuss about the blood and bruises.

However, they'd both been pacified enough by talk of the masks and reminder that Anthony had, in fact, dealt with worse before. One young man-- even trained-- wasn't three men with an actual vendetta. Especially since Anthony would have very quickly pegged Mac as the type of youth without a malicious bone in his body.

Word about the masks, though, travelled quickly enough.

When he notices the name in the journal, he responds.]

Mac.

[He's... almost curious. Still of the mind to fight? He can't be sure. But at least there's distance between them if that's the case.]

[He feels a strange, sharp twist of his insides at the voice. He wasn’t a coward, he reminds himself; a real man found the courage to own up to his mistakes.] Listen... uh...

[Swallowing, he wills himself to press on after a moment.] About… about what happened a couple days ago... m’real sorry. I was a jerk an' a bully. I didn't mean t'do any a' that t'you ... I wasn’t myself… but that don’ make what I did any less wrong. [Even a deep breath feels shallow. I would a’ talked to y’sooner, I should a', but… I didn't- -I was… [He peters off helplessly.]

This place... seems very capable of altering one's moods and sensibilities.

[Which isn't to say the blows didn't still smart. But the mask had to be considered as well as the unnatural climate of this entire place.

It was something to be watched. Certainly.]

Apology accepted, of course. No hard feelings.

[Just very sore spots. But that need not be mentioned.]

[Mac slowly and carefully lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, feeling some measure of relief wash over him as his shoulders drop – and yet, it doesn’t entirely feel right. It will be a little while longer, at least, until he can forgive himself.]

Thanks, Mr.Anthony. I... I appreciate it. [Another pause.] I know y'said things 'tween you an' I's okay... but, is there somethin' I can do? Like... t'make it up t'you? [He is aware he didn't pull any punches.]

Appointments

27th, afternoon - or 28, morning?

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