loungelizard | Prisma ♦︎ Inbox

[Like a rodent placed upon adequate bedding, Larry immediately scurries under the blankets, disappearing entirely for a few seconds, only movement under the sheets betraying his presence. A few seconds later, after he's cocooned himself in one specific blanket, his head pops up out of it and further wiggles to get comfortable amongst Ford's pillows. Have they always been so soft...?]

Oh, knock yourself out!

[Space is still sufficiently dark, detailed in a way that his brain wants to fixate on, and...the perfect equation for falling asleep while listening to Ford's bassy voice as he goes on and on about space. Hopefully he won't take it personally.]

[He won't. That's the state he wants to get to himself, the one where he hits auto-pilot and then wakes up the next morning with no memory of when he lost consciousness. Given the okay, he switches the little device on. It's on the void setting from the last time he needed an extended thinking session but he quickly swaps it over to the galaxy.

He know where the bed is by memory but it's certainly easier to tell what with Larry's head serving as a waypoint. He climbs up (the mattress dips a little) and settles himself down, curled up beneath a different blanket and a reasonable amount of the quilt. He's on his side, the better to rest one arm over Larry's cocoon. Something solid and grounding is good, even with the moon dust making everything floaty. He hasn't actually tried the galaxy setting under the influence yet and it might show on his face how breathtaking it is. To a man who already finds space beautiful and awe-inspiring, seeing it through this new lens is a lot. He's had long enough to map this virtual starscape and yet now it feels entirely new again.]

I used to like this best. The times when I wasn't planetside. When you're on the ground you don't realize how small you are and how big the universe is. You need to be out in it as just you, not you with a planet under your feet, to really get the sense of scale.

[The weight of Ford's arm against his chest feels good. Comforting. Larry worms his way closer to Ford so that he can tuck up under his chin and enjoy the sensation of a living, breathing body up against him. His eyes go in and out of focus as they explore the simulated starscape above them.

Larry chuckles at Ford's comment about a sense of scale, but keeps his comments to himself. Who needs a sense of scale when you're acutely aware of the size of the floppy disk you're on and just how much of it you take up? And that floppy disk occupies such an infinitesimal amount of space in the world...

No, Larry decides. He doesn't like the feeling of loneliness that comes with understanding just how much one is a speck in physical space. He doesn't care, as long as he has someone to share that space with. He's already mushed up against Ford, but he manages to find one more inch to get closer.]

[Maybe that's one of the key differences between them. They've both always been so acutely aware of their place in the universe, and yet they've always dealt with it in very different ways. Instead of learning not to think about in favor of finding the beauty at his feet, Ford decided to fall in love with the entire universe.]

When I was younger I was fascinated by the Bermuda Triangle because I liked the idea of somewhere I could go to just... disappear. [It doesn't occur to him what that sounds like. He's too high to have much filter, and his thoughts are leapfrogging too quickly from idea to idea to really curb them in.] Somewhere nobody had ever seen. Space is that but forever. You could spend your whole life mapping just one universe and barely cover an infinitesimal fraction of it.

[Yeah, it turns out when he said 'talk about space' he didn't mean 'discuss the finer points of physics'. Space makes him feel a way. A good way. That's what he wanted to capture. Even knowing his universe -- multiverse? -- is fake, that doesn't mean he can't appreciate its potential.]

Nothing you find is something you were looking for. It's always a wonderful surprise. Places. [He squeezes his arm around Larry just a little tighter.] People.

[He kind of wishes he hadn't been so tunnel-vision focused on his suicide mission back when he really had the opportunity to appreciate that.]

[A lot of what Ford says falls on deaf ears.

Larry got hung up on somewhere I could go to just disappear. Everything after that is just noise as tears well up into his eyes.

He doesn't think about it a whole lot, but that doesn't mean he's forgotten what it feels like to have his entire life crumble out from his under his feet, all for one reason--that he technically never fixed, but rather rebuilt his life around with enough time. But at the time, he didn't realize there was a chance of rebuilding his life; he was suddenly cast into stark loneliness in a time of his life that he craved companionship more than he ever had in the past. He had an itch so bad that he couldn't think about anything else, and it persisted even when it took everything from him.

It's not that he wanted to kill himself, necessarily. He just wanted the itch to stop and he could only think of two ways to make that happen.

Larry rolls over onto his side and presses his face into Ford's chest.]

...I don't want you to disappear...

[His voice wobbles. He's not crying, it's...it's just the dust.]

[See, the problem with Ford is he's no good at platitudes. He can't say 'I won't', that simply isn't something he can promise. Regardless of the fact that he's been in Lunatia for much longer than he normally spends in one universe, he's still very much expecting that he'll stumble out of it any day now. Nothing is that certain.

What he can do is tilt his head down and press his lips against the top of Larry's head. His hair's nice when it's not all gelled back, Ford thinks in a detached sort of way. Nice that he's leaving it down more often.]

I don't plan to.

[There. That's the truth, even if it's not a promise. It'll do.]

Too much here I'd miss.

[Ah...yeah. That's right, that's how this place works. Either one of them could get ripped away from this place with no warning; it's happened Majima, after all. But it's not something that makes him sad, because he knows they're going back to their homes, back to their adventures and their loved ones.

Like with Majima, Larry would mourn the loss of being able to spend time with Ford if he left, but wouldn't let it drive him into a funk. What can he say? Live in the moment -- he practices what he preaches.

Larry doesn't contest the tear that falls when Ford presses into the crown of his head.]

Yeah.

Me too.

[He smiles against Ford's chest.]

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