[John doesn’t know how to tell Poe that he’s wrong. That sometimes sadness and fear are what kills you, because you’d rather be anywhere than with those feelings. You’d rather die than feel loss again. People think John is noble, some kind of hero, but they couldn’t be farther from the truth. John doesn’t volunteer for every suicide mission because he’s brave. He volunteers because he’s a coward. To avoid pain. He would rather people mourn him than have to mourn them. John doesn’t want to hurt, or struggle to keep living and breathing with another hole in his heart.
John’s not a good person. He’s just fatally selfish.]
I don’t blame you. You’re nothing without him.
[A low groan when Poe demands he stay, but there’s the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.
[ Poe actually laughs a little, at both of those statements. BB-8 whistles, a noise that manages to convey a tentative hope.
Poe doesn't translate. ]
John.... [ Hesitation. He bites his lip, let's it slide slowly free while he tries to think of what he wants to say.
There are a thousand thousand things, and none of them mean anything any more. ] I haven't changed the sheets in a while. Not like I sleep on them anyway, but. Y'know.
I’m not picky. You know me. I’m just as happy to sleep on the floor.
[Did Poe mean to say it like that, or was John’s drunk brain telling him what he wants to hear?
No, he probably didn’t. Poe never sleeps in this bed. It was just a convenient place for them to fuck. Why would he bother to change the sheets.
John had washed his bedding over and over, trying to get the smell of him out. Because he hated waking up with the memory of Poe beside him, only to open his eyes to an empty bed. When the scent of him was gone, really gone, John was even more lonely.
He looks around the mostly empty room with a half-smile.]
[Right now John’s bedroom (the entirety of his bachelor suite) looks like cardboard boxes and a mattress on the floor. He hasn’t bothered unpacking yet. Some part of him is hoping it’ll be his turn to go back to Atlantis, the only people and place who have ever felt like home.
Why everyone but him? It keeps John up at night. He and Rodney arrived together. Carson and Elizabeth came after. He knows the science of it. Technicians don’t choose who goes, or when. It’s not a stargate. People can’t just dial home and walk through.
John doesn’t know whose departure hit him the hardest, and it doesn’t really matter. They’re gone.]
I moved. Can’t remember if I told you. Got a place near the PG. Didn’t make sense to keep paying rent on a four bedroom house.
[ It makes sense though. Poe wouldn't want to even stay in this place, without Finn here. They've done too much, shared too much, survived too much while they've been in their little apartment. ]
Makes sense though.
[ There's something in the words that says more than it makes sense. There's an apology, understanding. Things that would be trite if said out loud.
Near the PG, though. Soon John won't have anything but the PG left, if he's not careful, and Poe gets the feeling he's not in a careful mood.
Impulse takes over good sense. ]
You want to go boating or something? [ A pause, as he realizes how that sounds, how it could be taken. ] With me and Finn, I mean.
[ Not Poe, not just him. ] Doesn't have to be boating, it's just what I thought of first.
[He appreciates that Poe doesn't go into pity. John doesn't want his pity. He doesn't know what he wants from him, but it isn't that.
Right now, just being near another person who might have some understanding of the way he feels is enough.]
Boating?
[That was... the last thing John expected to hear. He turns his head, raising on eyebrow, and regrets the movement almost immediately as nausea almost overtakes him. Covering his eyes with one hand, he tucks his chin into his chest.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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John’s not a good person. He’s just fatally selfish.]
I don’t blame you. You’re nothing without him.
[A low groan when Poe demands he stay, but there’s the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.
He really is selfish.]
I already regret it.
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Poe doesn't translate. ]
John.... [ Hesitation. He bites his lip, let's it slide slowly free while he tries to think of what he wants to say.
There are a thousand thousand things, and none of them mean anything any more. ] I haven't changed the sheets in a while. Not like I sleep on them anyway, but. Y'know.
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[Did Poe mean to say it like that, or was John’s drunk brain telling him what he wants to hear?
No, he probably didn’t. Poe never sleeps in this bed. It was just a convenient place for them to fuck. Why would he bother to change the sheets.
John had washed his bedding over and over, trying to get the smell of him out. Because he hated waking up with the memory of Poe beside him, only to open his eyes to an empty bed. When the scent of him was gone, really gone, John was even more lonely.
He looks around the mostly empty room with a half-smile.]
I like what you’ve done with the place.
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[ Poe swallows, the knot he's become all too familiar with settling at the base of his throat. He clears it, or tries to. ]
Well, y'know. [ With an airy, joking tone. ] Thinking of taking up a second job as an interior decorator.
[ He wonders what John's bedroom looks like now, and kicks himself for the thought. ]
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[Right now John’s bedroom (the entirety of his bachelor suite) looks like cardboard boxes and a mattress on the floor. He hasn’t bothered unpacking yet. Some part of him is hoping it’ll be his turn to go back to Atlantis, the only people and place who have ever felt like home.
Why everyone but him? It keeps John up at night. He and Rodney arrived together. Carson and Elizabeth came after. He knows the science of it. Technicians don’t choose who goes, or when. It’s not a stargate. People can’t just dial home and walk through.
John doesn’t know whose departure hit him the hardest, and it doesn’t really matter. They’re gone.]
I moved. Can’t remember if I told you. Got a place near the PG. Didn’t make sense to keep paying rent on a four bedroom house.
no subject
[ It makes sense though. Poe wouldn't want to even stay in this place, without Finn here. They've done too much, shared too much, survived too much while they've been in their little apartment. ]
Makes sense though.
[ There's something in the words that says more than it makes sense. There's an apology, understanding. Things that would be trite if said out loud.
Near the PG, though. Soon John won't have anything but the PG left, if he's not careful, and Poe gets the feeling he's not in a careful mood.
Impulse takes over good sense. ]
You want to go boating or something? [ A pause, as he realizes how that sounds, how it could be taken. ] With me and Finn, I mean.
[ Not Poe, not just him. ] Doesn't have to be boating, it's just what I thought of first.
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Right now, just being near another person who might have some understanding of the way he feels is enough.]
Boating?
[That was... the last thing John expected to hear. He turns his head, raising on eyebrow, and regrets the movement almost immediately as nausea almost overtakes him. Covering his eyes with one hand, he tucks his chin into his chest.
Talk. Talk so you don't cry, or puke.]
Have you ever been on a boat?
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This is ridiculous, Poe thinks. This is completely ridiculous. The two of them here, like this, having this discussion.
It feels a little like coming home. ]
I mean, I've been on a solar sailer. How different can it be?