selfhelp | [IC] Appointments Post

Five minutes.

[Billy repeats it to himself quietly, closing his eyes for a long moment and indulging in the joint comfort of the hoodie held against him and Teddy's arm around his body. He listens to his boyfriend's heartbeat and ticks off the seconds, one, two, three, four, five, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump...

Five minutes. it's what he needed; the prospect of climbing off the window sill is terrifying, even if he'd suggested it, and the idea of leaving the room even moreso. He'd spent days watching the world carry on without him for days now, as if he doesn't exist- as if it's perfectly content to continue turning with or without him. Preferably without, he figures. Inside, looking out, it certainly seems a lot brighter than it did the week before, when he'd been practically the walking dead.

Doubt floods his heart again, clenching around it like a vice - that he shouldn't go, that he's not ready, that the village doesn't deserve to have a monster and a mess like him walking around freely - and his grip tightens around the soft fabric, a new lifeline, a placebo for his failing bravery. Teddy believes. Teddy's here for him. Teddy won't leave unless he gets up and goes. And Teddy... Teddy deserves to be free of this place.]

Five minutes... I'll be ready.

[Even if he has to drag himself every step of the way, he's going to do this.]

I'll get my stuff together.

[He lets Billy indulge a little longer, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying it, too. Feeling his boyfriend snuggled against his side like they were sitting on the couch together and watching a movie instead of taking their first real steps into the world again... It's a comfort, something that soothes his worries just a little.

But Teddy doesn't want this to last too long, despite everything else saying otherwise. He rubs Billy's forearm a few times, then slowly leans away so that his sudden movement won't jar him too much, and moves away to get his own things together. Clothes of his own, the books he'd read in the infinite downtime, a few toiletries, some snacks he'd brought... everything else already belonged to the clinic, in case their patients needed a long stay.]

[For Billy, "getting ready" is a lot less physical and more about mental prep-work. Anything that belonged to him here had been brought by Teddy or one of his (their?) friends, and he was already wearing most of it- clean(ish) clothes, familiar old runners, the hoodie bundled up in his lap. Anything else, he doesn't care about. What he focuses on, instead, is getting himself off the ledge.

It's harder to be sure, when Teddy lets him go and turns away. He clutches the sweater to his chest and he breathes, in and out, in and out, reminding himself what it's like to be a normal human being and not a disillusioned madman, what it's like to be someone in control of himself instead of... that. That thing he'd been two weeks ago, a physical manifestation of too much power and too many emotional problems in one body. He thinks, long and hard, no more magic, because the temptation is still there. He could teleport them home. He could remake this entire area to just look like home. He could create another dog and cat and they'd have their kids and then the rest of the Young Avengers would be there and their parents and it would be-

No more magic. No more magic.

He'd promised. His fist clenches more tightly, nails digging into his palm, the gentle pain of it a reminder to himself. No more. He'd promised.

Five minutes is not, ultimately, a very long time when you're used to spending hours in the company of your own head. He's not counting down, but when he glances away from the window at last to see that four and a half have already passed, he feels a sudden rush of panic, his breath catching in his throat, heartbeat picking up. He can't do this. He can't do this. He can't, he can't, he's not ready, he's better off here, he should just bury himself in the blankets and hide there forever and Teddy should-

....

He looks at Teddy, packing his stuff quietly, expecting them to be leaving in all of thirty seconds. He looks at the hoodie in his lap, warm and comforting and for him, because Teddy believed.

Fifteen.

He glances out the window, one hand pressed against the glass. There's a sparrow on the ledge again, on the other side, pecking absently at a few of the crumbs he'd left there, the remnants of a breakfast he'd barely touched. At least someone could enjoy the effort its baker had put into it. The little bird chirps at him aggressively, as if to say, what are you doing there? and flutters off.

Cheeky, he thinks to himself. It's an unexpected thought, a rebuttal to an attitude that he hasn't felt in what feels like forever.

Seven. Six. Five.

He faces the room again, inhales. Exhales.

Three. Two.

His feet drop, hitting the floor. It's the hardest step he's ever taken in his life, but he takes it. He's standing, he's off the window. He's holding the hoodie-turned-lifeline and he's ready.

One.

Let's go.]

[Teddy stands with his bag over his shoulder when he hears the sound he'd been hoping to hear. The sound of feet hitting the floor, of Billy finally sliding off the windowsill and ready to go. He turns to look at Billy, standing there clutching the hoodie in a vice grip, and for the first time in a long while, he smiles big and wide, genuine enough even without the dimples there. It feels good to smile again. It feels good to see Billy taking this first step on his own, even if Teddy needed to give him a gentle push to get there.

It's a simple act, sliding off a windowsill. Yet Teddy feels like he's never been prouder of his boyfriend.

Rather than stay ahead of him, Teddy steps beside him, resisting the urge to take his hand. He's not sure if Billy wants to do this himself, or if he even wants Teddy to hold his hand, or... whatever else his insecurity spits out at him. But he does stand shoulder to good-shoulder, and he nudges it with his own.]

Ready? Let's go.

[And then the first few steps.

Here we go.]

[Billy hesitates, half-glancing over his shoulder; the window is still there, empty and open, as if it's waiting for him. In comparison, the door to the hallway looms terrifyingly, and he knows which wait he wants to go. It's a much shorter and safer trip back to the window, too.

But the smile Teddy's had on his face when he turned to face him... it was a bigger smile than he'd seen for weeks. It was real, and in this moment of glorious yet frightening clarity he recognized how rare it was these days for Teddy to give him an honest smile. He hasn't done anything to coax it out, after all.

He turns away from the window, looking at Teddy instead, shoulders brushing together. He wants to take his hand, to draw upon that support, but Teddy isn't offering, and... he's afraid to ask. In case the answer is no, or- or worse- a forced yes. He'd rather walk alone than either of those.

Unable to trust his voice right now, he merely nods slightly, then moves to take his first step towards the door. It's... easier than he expected, now that he's on his feet. Like the threat of gravity itself was the worst hurdle to pass, and now that he's felt the weight of his own body, now that he's grounded, he can move. It's a strange feeling, but he focuses on it. One step, then two, then three, and he's moving. He's walking. He's going outside this room and he's...

...well, he'll worry about the rest when he gets there. One step, quite literally, at a time.]

[The steps are slow at first, and then it seems to just get easier. Teddy keeps at Billy's side, not ahead of him, not behind him, but beside him, where he belongs. Where he always...

Where he always...

They're walking. Billy's walking. They're out of that room and going down the hall, and that's absolutely more than Teddy can ask for. The door isn't far from here, another possible hurdle. But Billy made it this far, and it seems to be getting easier the more that he really moves. Teddy can tell just by watching him from the corner of his eye.

And as they near it, maybe Teddy can't help brushing their fingers together. He wants it, he does, but... should he? He just doesn't know, and that uncertainty is just... it's...

But isn't this...

Where he always...]

[As they walked down the hall, Billy had gradually shifted his iron grip on the hoodie to a loose, almost relaxed one, until finally he felt prepared enough to let it go and put it on, instead. It had taken some effort - his arm was mostly healed and out of the sling as of the last day or so, but it was still stiff and uncomfortable to move most of the time, so he tried to avoid it for the most part. Still, he was stubborn about wearing it, and of course if he struggled too much Teddy was there to help him along. How symbolic, really, of the journey they'd taken thus far. Before long it's on him, a fluffy red cocoon of warmth and safety. He had the hand of his injured arm tucked into a pocket to ease a bit of the weight off of it, and he'd considered putting the other in a pocket as well, but it was the side closest to Teddy. And he still wanted to... but he couldn't...

...dammit...

When they reach the door, Billy falters, half-stumbling and very nearly stopping. This is it. This is the eleventh hour, the last chance to turn back. Once they're outside, he won't be able to go back so easily. He's so afraid of what could be waiting outside that door for him, what the world could be like, what he'll have to do when he finally becomes a part of it again. He almost, almost turns.

But then Teddy's hand brushes against his, and he doesn't even think- he just moves, twisting his wrist to let his fingers make a wild grab for Teddy's, clinging desperately, unable to conceal the way they're trembling. He does stop then, going completely still, holding his breath. Waiting for a reaction, a rejection, waiting for Teddy to pull his hand away or scold him or...

He's so scared. When has he ever been afraid of holding Teddy's hand?

Please don't let me go...]

[Teddy had thought this would happen. Billy slowly coming to a halt, swaying like he's afraid, like he wants to go back, and Teddy nearly just pushes his doubts aside and takes his hand and goes when Billy completes a few of those steps for him.

He looks down at their hands, Billy holding onto his like he needs that support. The little whisper that'd been brushing his mind with doubts shows itself again, he's just scared, it says, he'd do that with anyone, he'd do that with that fake you, but it actually goes unheard.

Billy is holding his hand and it feels like little pieces of himself slide back together. Not whole again, not even close, but - it happened, it's happening.

It only takes a breath for Teddy to close his fingers around Billy's, and he glances upward to give him a smile, not as large but just as real as the last. They're doing this together. Billy and Teddy.

Teddy takes the first few steps, giving his boyfriend's hand a gentle tug as he rests his other hand on the door.]

This is one small step for man... one giant leap for Kaplan kind.

[... Dumb joke. Maybe too dumb.]

[It is a dumb joke, absurdly so, actually, but it's like an icebreaker in the midst of an awkward conversation, a breath of fresh air, and Billy finally breathes. He inhales, and it's a muffled bark of a laugh that escapes, brief and slightly exasperated because really, Teddy, really, and even if it doesn't last, he can feel the difference. His shoulders lift, his fingers shift to twine through Teddy's, and it feels right again. It feels like... he can do this.

There's still a whisper of doubt, of course: that if he were really normal, if he were really himself again, he'd have tossed back a silly quip, another quote, an exasperated comment at such a classic example of Teddy's sense of humour. He doesn't have the peace of mind to be ready for that, not yet.

But he'd laughed. Just for a second, he'd laughed. That's something, right?

He moves again, letting Teddy's tug pull him forward, falling back into step with the blond as the door is pushed open. Sunlight greets him, birds chirp, a chilly autumn wind blows through his hair. He's outside, and that urge to flee back to his window is quieted, somewhat, by the hand curled around his own.

He can do this. They can.]

[Well. Billy didn't let go of his hand, and - he even laughed. There was that exasperation again, one Teddy isn't quite sure about anymore. But it was a laugh, something that was sorely missing for these past few weeks. He'll take anything, especially a laugh. Laughter from Billy, even as small as that, feels like a breath of fresh air.

Though that might be from the fact that the door is open now, and Teddy's already pulled Billy out into the daylight. He takes a few steps, then stops, just to lift his head and look up at the trees, the sound of birds, the wind tussling his hair.

Welcome to Luceti Park.

God, no, one bad joke was enough. Instead, he looks across to Billy, a musing little expression on his face as he observes him quietly. It's the first time he's been outside in nearly two week, only allowing himself to look through glass... How is he doing now?]

[Truth be told, he's... not great. Pressed up against Teddy's side, still clutching his hand, he almost looks like it's his first time out in the world ever; everything is new and bright and scary and he's not sure how to deal with it anymore. It's such a far cry from the norm, and even Billy's feeling it. He used to love being outside. The air, the trees, the colours of the sky- there were days when he'd go full-on Disney princess in Central Park back home, delighting in the giant patch of green in the middle of the bustling Manhattan metropolis. Luceti was a hundred times bigger and suddenly it felt like every square inch of it was watching him, waiting for him to screw up again. His eyes darted back and forth, searching for the inevitable.

It's cowardly, but he pulls his free hand from his pocket and reaches back to grab the hood of his new shirt, pulling it over his head, keeping it low to conceal his face in the overhanging shadow as much as possible. It isn't much, but he feels safer for it, and it allows him to relax enough to look ready to move again. Pathetic as it is, maybe this way he can pretend that it isn't him. If people don't know it's him...

He notices Teddy's eyes on him then, and suddenly feels self-conscious, pitiable. Teddy's too kind to judge, but Billy has that part covered, plenty.]

...You were right... it's cold now.

[One of the (admittedly very few) reasons he liked being surrounded by trees instead of tall buildings was the way Billy reacted to it. Sometimes, Teddy wondered if Billy even grew up in New York City, what with the way he seemed to settle in nicely with a place like this whereas he and others still felt out of their alignment. Of course, then he'd watch Billy talk and walk fast, still complain about some of the food in comparison to NYC's, and have moments of missing the city life just as much as the rest of them, and Teddy's suspicions about Billy being born a Disney Princess who belonged in the forest are laid to rest. You can't totally beat the city out of a bonafied New Yorker, after all.

Billy acting like he just showed up and doesn't know what to do with the trees replacing the buildings is - it's different and strange from how Teddy knows the way he'd usually respond, but not entirely unexpected. A small part of Teddy's mind had thought that Billy being outside would bring some life back into him, but the larger part of him knew that that's shooting too far, with what Billy did and how much he seems to hate himself for it.

Still, he's outside, and that's a huge step. He rubs his thumb against Billy's, and he takes a few steps to urge him to keep going forward.]

There's no snow, so I think we're in luck. [Normally Teddy would stop talking there, allowing Billy to take the conversation and go. But Billy's been so quiet that he knows he can't expect that anymore, so after a small pause, he looks up at the trees and at the sunlight flickering through.] It's no Redhorn Pass, and there's no Saruman pushing a blizzard at us. We're practically in Lórien now.

[Billy makes a vaguely affirmative noise at that, his lips curling up the barest sliver, not sure if he should really be smiling or not. He does relax a tiny bit, though; he does everything in fractions these days, bits and pieces, like his whole life is a tiny progress bar on dial-up. He's been getting better, then worse, then better again, and today's been a bad day, but... marginally better now, since he'd left the window.

He wants to keep it that way. And while it's been so easy to just remain silent and let Teddy fill the void, because his own voice, his own words, are so terrifying now, he feels like... god, he could really be doing so much more. It isn't right to leave it all on him. He might not be able to do much, and he might not have much to say, but...]

If we're in Lórien, who was our Gandalf?

[....

Shit. Shit. That wasn't right. That was- that's depressing, that's a sad scene, shit why did he say that- he should've- called him Sam, or- god he can't even joke properly anymore-

The gears are already turning in his head, mentally kicking and cursing himself, seeming to shrink down further into the hoodie.]

[It's something that Teddy can see from the corner of his eye, the way Billy shrinks, like he'd said something wrong. It's why Teddy decides to butt in fast, letting their hands sway playfully as they walk, a distracting motion.]

Who is our Gandalf, you mean. He comes back as the white wizard, remember? Fought an epic battle against the Balrog and came out on top.

So, if I had to pick someone...

[... Huh. That's a tough one. Honestly, he's thinking that Billy might be Gandalf, this possession is the Balrog, and he's Gwaihir in this case, but that's probably not something Billy wants to hear.]

I don't know... Can we really pick someone for Gandalf?

...I guess not.

[It was a dumb suggestion, anyway. Really, he's just grateful that it didn't completely ruin the mood- that Teddy had taken his comment in stride instead of freaking out over it, unlike some people. He gives Teddy's hand a light squeeze, grateful and relieved, and continues walking with him. Easier now. So much easier.]

Dr. Strange is probably the only one who'd qualify back home...

I'm trying to imagine Dr. Strange in a Gandalf costume.

[...]

And actually? It's really easy to do. [He gives Billy's hand a squeeze in return; he's here, it's okay.]

Now, who's lone wolf enough for Aragorn...

Nate could do it. He got us all together... started us on this journey...

[It's nice to think on that, instead of dwelling on their current situation. To think back on happier, more innocent and carefree days, when they were just a bunch of free-spirited fanboys learning how to use their powers, how to work together as a team, how to not get killed by Kang the freaking Conqueror. And then Kang had come, and they'd killed him, and Nate had left...

Things started changing very fast after that, and... he can't really say that it was for the better, even with how far they'd come. If he were to cast his spell again - and he won't, he won't, no more magic - he'd wish for that.]

"Those Canaan days..."

[It's murmured, idly and absently and not-quite there: half-sung, even, like he's starting to drift again. He glances off to the side, steps growing sluggish.]

[Teddy glances sidelong at Billy; he has no idea where that line came from, as he knows pretty much all the Tolkien-songs and that isn't one of them. But he knows that Billy is drifting, so he shakes their hands between them in an effort to snap him out of it.]

Hey, hey, don't leave me alone trying to think up who could be who here.

[Don't leave me alone again.]

You're definitely a Frodo. Guess that makes me Sam.

[Billy jerks his head back to look at Teddy again when he feels the handshake, and it takes him a moment to find his center again. What had he been...

...oh. Right, right...]

I can't... argue with that. I always liked Sam.

[His thumb brushes over the back of Teddy's hand. Thank you, it says. I'm sorry.]

Frodo wouldn't have gotten very far without Sam...

Yeah...

[Teddy lets his gaze drift to his feet at that little quote. He's been helping Billy all this time, so - so maybe it's kind of, kind of true, but... Would that still be true after all this? Was it true before? Or was he just holding out for that... ideal of his, that... fake, that...]

You shouldn't make fun; I was being serious. [He voices it like he's just returning the quote, not really putting thought into it.]

[The tone strikes a chord in Billy, sharp and severe and half-panicked; his breath hitches, his grip tightening, and he's stunned silent for a long moment.

It's just the quote. It's the quote, right? Teddy's not- he's not really- he doesn't think-

but why wouldn't he

God, let him do just one thing right today. Just try.]

S... so was I.

[Before Billy speaks, Teddy lifts his eyes and straightens, jaw clenched, but otherwise looking ahead and normal. In his mind, however, the whispers return; idiot, idiot, you worried him, you're not supposed to do that, you're supposed to be strong and brave and always there for him, this is why he wanted that other you, why you'll never be good enough, never for him, never -

"S... So was I."

The whispers break, and he looks down at Billy for a moment while his jaw slacks. Was... he being serious? Or was he just finishing the quote? Teddy only just then notices the way Billy's gripping his hand, the way he looks at him, and -

You did worry him, idiot

But he said that... like he meant it. Teddy clutches onto that, and he leans in to bump his temple against Billy's, briefly. He wants to stop and ask if he really was serious about that. He wants to just touch their foreheads together and shut his eyes and not move for a while.

But this is enough, and he can't ask too much. He already did too much.]

... I think "Teddy the Brave" sounds kind of dumb, but okay.

...Sometimes... what's dumb is also true. At least... I think so.

[He's brave. He's so brave and strong for doing this, for fighting Billy, coaxing him back to reality, then standing by his side all this time when it didn't entirely work. Billy doesn't know how he can be as strong as he is... only that he's so, so lucky to have this support. He just wishes he wasn't so out of it most of the time, that his head was screwed on properly so he could actually show it.

It makes these moments, the moments where he recognizes it and can try to express those lost and pent-up feelings, even more important.]

[This is one of the few times Billy had said something like that. Teddy always wants to reach out and cling to those moments, those times when Billy seems to indicate that it really is him that he loves, not the face of the ideal he could have. He's calling him brave, and he's doing his best... And Teddy hates himself for the whispers that keep spinning round and round in his head, jeering and dragging him down and making these little shifts in his body necessary.

But maybe he can believe a little. Because these moments are so few, so precious, that maybe he's allowed to hold on to them.

It's why Teddy keeps their heads together, even if he doesn't respond. When he does lift his head away, he tilts it upward to gesture ahead of them.]

There's the village.

[The moment of calm is broken in three simple words, and Billy reluctantly draws back and away from Teddy's touch, lifting his free hand to tug the hood back into place, further concealing his face from view. It's better. Safer. Even if he misses the touch like burning he feels like if even just one person sees his face out in the open it'll be like the spell's started all over again. Things are different, he knows - he's with the real Teddy now, and no more magic - but that doesn't make it okay. Doesn't make it safe.

There's the village.

He definitely feels like he's walking into Mordor.]

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