Welcome to Hickstead, home to both Seven Oak Stables, and Blue Acre - two rival stables. Both offer opportunities for their clients to reach the highest level of excellence. Each stable differs from the other, so choose wisely and never forget, loyalty is everything... Meanwhile as the stables battle it out, there's trouble brewing at the university. Be careful, if you don't pick a side you may get caught in the cross-fire...
This is an chilled out rpg with a super friendly and relaxed atmosphere! Remember to sign up with your characters full name in all caps and don't forget to do your claims! Thank you and Welcome, we've been established since 10th March 2009 but unfortunately have had to close guest view of our boards due to multiple sites ripping off our hard work, such a shame! Come chat to us in Discord before joining if you like!.
Joe stared at the clock on the wall, watching the second hand make its slow revolutions around the face in a never ending loop. It was just past one am, exactly four minutes and twenty-five-six-seven... Slowly he dragged his eyes away from the clock, knowing there was no point in staring at it like he had been since the rest of his family had gone to bed. He'd even pointedly taken to ignoring them for the rest of the evening, taking off into the back yard until almost ten pm.
He felt too alert, every little noise of the house relaxing made him look. More than once his paranoia of being watched kicked in enough to make him check in over his shoulder. He'd even turned on the TV and muted it so that it didn't annoy anyone and subsequently dozed off to it, only to jolt awake at the flashing lights behind his eyelids caused by the screen. That had annoyed him, his thoughts had been so quiet and now they were talking to him again. That meant he'd turned off the TV and left only a small lamp on to provide some light to the room. He couldn't sleep in the dark anymore, couldn't stand it, it was suffocating to say the least. And the soft music coming from his phone helped a little bit to settle his unease.
You're not ok, you're a liar...
Joe ran his fingers through his hair, pushing back the growing locks that were irritating him.
You smile, you even laugh sometimes, but it's all false...
Why did they have to start talking now? Why now and not a hour before dawn? Why not when he'd been outside? Why did they talk at all when he knew these things?
You endanger them every single time you're around them. If you loved them, you'd leave them alone. If you cared, you would've walked the other way and gotten an apartment in the city. You're ruining their lives. Failure!
Making a face, he pushed off the couch and moved into the kitchen - had to move, had to ignore it all, get some water. That will make things ok. Be normal Joe... So why is my heart racing so hard against my chest? Why is it harder to breathe all of a sudden? He stood frozen, staring at the cupboard, trying to work through the sudden rush of panic that grabbed him. Why?
Dustin woke abruptly. His eyes flew open, though he didn't make a sound or any other movement. It was how he often woke. Nightmares were no different, though they plagued him a lot less frequently than they used to, and occasionally caused him to lash out in his sleep, he still generally woke up like he was paralyzed. It was from his time in the army, and though he'd been free of it for some time he could never escape the training that had been gruelled into him. This wasn't even something they taught, but something he had learned; to wake up without movement and without sound. The slightest noise or the smallest sight, and his brain would trip, sensing something and pinging open his eyelids without a second thought. And that was it... he was awake. Ready to assess the situation and react as required. Nowadays it was screaming babies or yelling siblings, less than the shooting of guns, but old habits died hard.
He didn't know what it was that he'd sensed tonight - or this morning he amended as his eyes flickered to the clock - but something was amiss. He gave a quiet groan as he sat up, as careful as possible not to disturb the sleeping woman next to him. Dustin folded the covers back over his empty space, tucking them up a little more around Hayden before he left the room. Yawning, he stretched his arms above his head, feeling the old muscles pull and then release in a satisfying manner, before he headed for the stairs. He limped as he went, the ruined muscles in his thigh and knee complaining, as they always did when he first got up. Some days were better than others, but he was used to it, he had lived with pain most of his life, it was background noise to him now - a reminder of all the shit he had made it through in life.
Heading for the kitchen, he automatically switched. He knew it was likely family but there was always that little inkling in the back of his mind that it could be someone else, and he would be ready for it - always. Nobody would hurt his family again. The tension eased along his shoulders as he rounded the corner and saw Joe, poised halfway to getting a class. His body relaxed a little, but not completely, something reminding him there was still the possibility of threat- wary at the way his brother wasn't with him right now, and for what might happen as he spoke softly but firmly, "Joe?"
<3 HAYDEN MAY JAMES ONE SON | ONE UNBORN CHILD | ONE HORSE (ROULETTE)
What's the matter Joe? Having a hard time breathing? Funny that.
His skin felt hot, chest stuck as an invisible force closed around his neck. What good was he at fighting what he couldn't see? Why was this happening?
"Joe?"
The words spooked him, shaking out an otherwise seemingly perfect frozen calm, like someone had pushed him that last inch into a freezing pool. He inhaled sharply, lurching forward to grab whatever was in front of him in the dark and turned to face the voice, finally seeing the face that spoke before lowering his weapon of choice - a wooden mixing spoon.
"Don't do that!" he growled weakly between gasps of air, staggering back a little bit to lean on the counter behind him.
He looked at the spoon in his hand, glaring at it before setting it to the counter top. Some weapon. He rubbed his face - what was Dustin doing awake at this hour? He was so used to this time being the time where he sat alone with his thoughts and struggled through the thoughts and emotional waves his brain threw at him. He wasn't wearing his sweater, leaving him in snug fitting tank top against his lean muscled frame and his jeans. His tags were still around his neck, something he couldn't bring himself to take off - that final clinging, lingering reminder.
His skin began to prickle, suddenly feeling vulnerable - far too vulnerable as he began to put things together. No gloves, no sweater, Dustin could see him... He shuddered but didn't make immediate intention to cover up as much as his mind screamed at him to stop that vulnerable, analyzing feeling.
"Am I still a threat?" He knew that wasn't fair, he didn't want to shoot that at Dustin straight off the bat, but his discomfort threw rationality out the window.
His words woke the boy, and though he'd tried to do it in a way that would wake but not startle him, it hadn't quite had the desired effect. A wooden spoon was pointed to his throat, and Dustin gave it a cursory glance before disregarding it. Anything could be a weapon in the right hands, but even then a spoon made of wood was not up there in his list of things to be concerned about. Instead, his gaze went to the rest of what he could see - what was bared to him for the first time; his brother's arms and hands. He had yet to see his brother without a jumper on, despite the warmer month of June, and now he understood why. A wealth of sadness welled from the bottom of his heart, that Joe felt such a need to hide himself, to hide what had been done to him.
"Don't do that!" Dustin stayed put, giving him his space. He raised his hands in surrender, his look apologetic. "I'm sorry, I thought you had heard me." He hadn't wanted to bang a door and wake up the house, and he knew something wasn't right with his brothers hearing, but he hadn't intended to scare him. Dustin's eyes flickered down the length of Joe's arms, following the traces of every scar, every mar, landing on the fingers missing from his hand - where he always wore the glove. He wanted to say he was sorry, for everything that had happened to him, and to tell him it was okay, that he didn't need to feel ashamed or to hide anything. But this wasn't his place to say. Joe would talk when he was ready - perhaps this incident might nudge him to.
"Am I still a threat?" Dustin shook his head, forcing his own body to observe the situation and shake of the residual tension still humming almost dormant through his limbs. "No, it's an old habit. One I know I am unlikely to shake off." He shrugged. "I was like you, when I came home. One wrong move, one loud noise and..." He trailed off, thinking to the times where he had flipped his shit, where he had threatened someone he loved by acting before his brain could catch up. He remembered Avery coming home to tell him about when he'd done it to Holly, nearly killed her in her their bed from the frenzy of a nightmare. He knew one day things like that would cease to bother him, but he didn't think he'd ever stop being so alert. "I am worse when I wake from bad dreams, it's as if they linger."
<3 HAYDEN MAY JAMES ONE SON | ONE UNBORN CHILD | ONE HORSE (ROULETTE)
He raised his hands in surrender, his look apologetic. "I'm sorry, I thought you had heard me."
He made a dismissive gesture, letting it go for the most part. At least he hadn't hurt his brother or tried to. He could feel Dustin's eyes on him; it felt like he was being picked apart, studied, and it made his heart hammer hard inside his chest. Stop looking at me Dustin... please. He looked away, trying to distract himself, tapping his fingers against his leg anxiously - so stupid Joe.
"No, it's an old habit. One I know I am unlikely to shake off." He shrugged. "I was like you, when I came home. One wrong move, one loud noise and..." He trailed off, thinking. "I am worse when I wake from bad dreams, it's as if they linger."
Joe listened, trying to accept his words but the voices rebuked the truth in them with doubts. His brother wasn't like him, he wasn't the same, they didn't experience the same... but he was army, so he knew... right? Slowly Joe shook his head. He thought about what Luc had said, that telling them would make things easier, so why did it feel like he had a knife against his throat?
"I-I'm fine. I'm adjusting..."LIAR!"I just have to be aware of where I am, and the fact that cars back fire..."
He grabbed hold of the counter, knuckles white, feeling a sharp cramp trying to catch in his calf. They were becoming more frequent, and it seemed, more painful. He didn't want that, not again - they hurt so much. Ignore it! You've been through worse! But it feels like something's breaking... He sucked in air through his teeth, trying to stop the tremble in his leg with a good mental slapping. Why now?
"Go back to bed Dustin," he hissed, quietly begging, "Please... just go."
Dustin ignored the gesture, not wanting Joe to think he was here to start a fight - it had been coincidence, or whatever you wanted to call it; his senses may have woken him, but he wasn't trying to check up on anyone. His eyes followed his brothers movements, unable to help himself - he analysed people all the time, even now. The downside of not only being in the army, but also having a higher rank - you had to know your people, know who needed that extra nudge to get moving, who was likely to turn tail and run, who was and wasn't going to make it. He noticed the tapping, but thought nothing of it; an anxious gesture, the way people bit their nails or their lips.
He caught the shake of his brothers head, wondering what exactly he was denying. He couldn't deny Dustin's experiences; as much as he wanted to think nobody understood him, his brothers could at least. They had been through it all before, and though the memories might be slightly different the effects were the same. "I-I'm fine. I'm adjusting...I just have to be aware of where I am, and the fact that cars back fire..." He gave a slight nod, his arms folding across his chest as he let out a slow sigh, chest rising and then slowly falling with the long exhale. "It's not always easy to do, things like this, they stick with you, for a long time. But the new normal ingrains itself eventually - for the most part." He didn't want to promise anything he shouldn't, but he didn't want Joe to think he would never be able to relax.
Dustin had been about to step forward to put the kettle on, thinking a tea might be best, when he noticed Joe's change. The grip on the counter, the tension along his shoulders. He frowned, wondering what he had done to cause it. "Go back to bed Dustin, Please... just go." His frown deepened, entire brow furrowing. "I didn't come down to check up on you, I couldn't sleep, I came down to settle my own thoughts." He knew Joe was having a tough time, but he had to know that they weren't all tip toeing around him all the time. Dustin was going about as he would any other day. "I want to make a cup of tea, sometimes it helps. You are welcome to go back to your own room." His words were not unkind, but firm. He had his own demons still too, he would not be dictated to, to be told to get out when he had his own routine that helped him.
<3 HAYDEN MAY JAMES ONE SON | ONE UNBORN CHILD | ONE HORSE (ROULETTE)
"It's not always easy to do, things like this, they stick with you, for a long time. But the new normal ingrains itself eventually - for the most part."
Joe didn't look at Dustin, that panic was rushing back in again. He felt like there were hands under his skin, like someone was squeezing his throat. Why was this happening?! He felt sick, his grip on the counter tightening more. The voices in his head were laughing at him, mocking him. He closed his eyes, feeling dizzy, sweat beating on his forehead.
His frown deepened, entire brow furrowing. "I didn't come down to check up on you, I couldn't sleep, I came down to settle my own thoughts. I want to make a cup of tea, sometimes it helps. You are welcome to go back to your own room."
See that? He doesn't care. He wants you out of his home. Shouldn't have come home. You're dangerous to them. Joe's breathing turned shallow, the tapping intensifying. He wants you to fuck off Joe. He wants you to go. Get moving. Slowly, unsteadily, he let go of the sink and started towards the stairs, stopping only to grab his gloves and pulled them on roughly before moving to the stairs. He stopped and stared at them, determination and anger fueling him for a moment. It was slow going, getting onto the sixth step and froze. It was dark up here, he couldn't see what was up there. His vision swam, it was too dark.
So pathetic. So weak. A giant coward! Should be dead.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it! He didn't even register the sound of panic that escaped him, he just had to go back down the stairs. How did he do that though? He tried to suck in air, his lungs were burning, back away now! He moved, trying to back off the stairs and found nothing to back him up, only figuring out he'd moved the wrong leg entirely. He let go of his crutches in a vain effort to grab something, anything at all, nothing. Crashing back down the stairs, Joe curled up on the floor and sucked air back into his lungs, his whole body shaking.
Dustin moved past Joe in the silence, switching the kettle on once he could see there was still enough water in it for a cup. "Would you like one? It's peppermint tea, it helps sometimes." He offered, taking down a mug and sticking in a tea bag as the water began to boil. He was usually a coffee man, and relished in the stuff - inhaling it like oxygen during the day. But it didn't help for night terrors, if anything it made things worse. He'd learned over the years the triggers to avoid and the best way to settle things down. Tea helped, peppermint tea for him seemed to do the best.
He poured in the water, glancing over his shoulder as he heard Joe move away - assuming he had gone back to bed. Dustin sighed and ran a hand over his face, annoyed at himself, No, he hadn't snapped, but he'd been less gentle than usual - less sympathetic. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, trying to force himself to let it go. They couldn't tip toe around Joe forever, he had to know that they were here to help, but they life didn't halt for him. Dustin and Avery were still fighting the fight to be 'normal' every day, they still had things going on that they had to deal with him.
Dustin leant against the counter for a moment, blowing on the top of his hot drink as steam curled from the surface, before taking a scalding sip. He was about to take a second when he heard a clatter. It was only by training that he didn't jolt the hand with his mug and burn himself, instead he put it down with a calm swiftness and hurried to the source of the noise. At first he was ready for a fight, as was his first instinct to any noise these days, but at the sight of his little brother curled helplessly on the floor at the foot of the stairs, that hard exterior melted away, softening as he knelt down to help him. "I can't, I can't." Dustin couldn't be sure what 'can't' Joe was referring to, but he offered him his hands to sit up, looking him over critically to check that he hadn't broken himself by the fall. "Hey, it's okay, come on, let me help you."
<3 HAYDEN MAY JAMES ONE SON | ONE UNBORN CHILD | ONE HORSE (ROULETTE)
"Would you like one? It's peppermint tea, it helps sometimes." He offered.
It felt so... damning to be so helpless. He wasn't functioning right, already nearly a year in... He held himself tight, curled up like he remembered doing so on the dusty floor of that awful room he'd spent so long in. He'd fought the hands that tried to stand him up, and fought the hands that carried him out into the evening away from the hell. He just laid there, tears collecting on the floor, arms tight to his chest, body shaking like someone had let the world coldest draft in from under a door. He could hear the voices laughing at him, it was humiliating.
"Hey, it's okay, come on, let me help you."
He could barely hear Dustin's words, like they were distant and underwater, but he still had some awareness to the fact it was his brother and not one of the demons that liked to haunt his waking hours. It felt like forever before he gingerly reached out and allowed Dustin to help him into a sitting position, retracting his hand as soon as he was able to so he could hold onto his shirt. He was aware of some pain that came with the fall down the stairs, namely across his shoulders and neck, but a few brief movements assured him that nothing was broken. He felt sick still, but he was content to brush that aside - he felt sick more often than he did fine, so it was nothing new to him.
He roughly scrubbed his face, trying to stop crying. He hated crying, he'd spent so long crying in that stupid hospital bed, he figured if he'd done it then before he came home that he wouldn't have to cry at home, they'd be all spent and yet here he was being a giant child on the floor crying again. Leaning forward a bit, he moved his good leg - nothing broken, thank god; he would've lost his mind if he had broken something. He shifted on the floor a little bit, straightening.
"I can't go upstairs..." he said lamely, scrubbing his face again, his voice defeated as he looked at the stairs. "I managed them when I first got home.. I got up, but I crawled down them."
He turned and looked behind him at the closest chair and dragged himself over to it, reaching up to the arm and took a deep breath.
"One, two, three."
With a grunt he pulled himself up off the ground and got his good leg under him, turning to sit on the edge of the chair. He didn't feel quite right, finally noting that his prosthetic was still laying on the floor, still wearing his grey sock. He let out a shaky breath, seeing it laying there was like getting hit with a massive hammer. Not whole.
Dustin waited with his hand outstretched, knowing that it would take his brother time to focus, to come back to himself. Whatever was going on in his head was taking over right now, and there was nothing Dustin could do but wait and offer him the support when he needed it. He helped him up into a seated position, careful with his maneuvering so he didn't hurt his brother. The fall had not been graceful, he was at least likely to bruise as long as there wasn't anything worse. His whole focus and attention was on Joe, remaining crouched by his brother as he waited for what was coming. It didn't matter that he was crying, Dustin might seem made of stone sometimes but even he let the tears go at times. As unnatural as it felt.
"I can't go upstairs...I managed them when I first got home.. I got up, but I crawled down them." Dustin frowned, following his glance up the stairs and sighing, "Why didn't you say? We could have helped you settle downstairs, made a proper room for you..." Now it made sense, why he was often found asleep downstairs on the sofa. His injuries were more extensive than Dustin had known, not that Joe would talk about them for him to understand what was going on. "We're your family, Joe, we are here to help you." He promised, knowing how hard it was to ask for help but at the same time, with how much they had gone through, he'd thought they might have been close enough.
Dustin hovered awkwardly as he heaved himself into the chair with a "One, two, three." and now that he was less preoccupied that was when he saw it, saw everything his brother hadn't told him. "Oh Joe..." His heart broke then, shattered. Not only for his younger brother - too young - and what he had lost, but for how long he had hidden this from them, from all of them. Even though he knew people who had come home from war the same, even though Avery had been wheelchair bound for years. "I'm so sorry," He ran a hand through his hair, gripping it at the roots as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Get it together. As he always had it together. As he always had to. He was his siblings mother and father as much as their eldest brother, he had to be together. He let out a quiet exhale and looked at Joe, apology clear in his eyes. "Why did you never say? We are brothers, we have seen the same things... you can always tell me anything. It makes you no less of a man."
<3 HAYDEN MAY JAMES ONE SON | ONE UNBORN CHILD | ONE HORSE (ROULETTE)
Dustin frowned, following his glance up the stairs and sighing, "Why didn't you say? We could have helped you settle downstairs, made a proper room for you..."
Joe's voice was deadpan, "I never said anything because I didn't want to further disrupt everything. Just turning up like I did already threw everything out and over for a loop. Figured I was saving everyone the trouble."
"We're your family, Joe, we are here to help you." He promised.
"Oh Joe..."
Joe didn't lift his head, couldn't look at Dustin. He could hear it in his voice that the image hurt him. He didn't want pity - he'd gotten enough of that from the nurses and doctors that had had to put him back together again. He'd seen in the eyes of so many that he'd come to hate pity, or what they called concern. He couldn't handle that. It hurt. But the cat was out of the bag, what use was there anymore? He reached into his pockets and pulled out his hearing aids for a moment, assessing them with a look of sheer distaste before he looped them around his ears and turned them on. It was jarring, how clear things were, how loud.
"I'm so sorry," He ran a hand through his hair, gripping it at the roots as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "Why did you never say? We are brothers, we have seen the same things... you can always tell me anything. It makes you no less of a man."
"Don't be sorry," Joe said, his voice almost emotionless, twinged faintly by hurt, "I was the one who screwed things up. I never said about it because I am ashamed of it - everything has been a well oiled lie."
He kept his head down, staring at his gloved hands, rubbing them slowly, anxiously, "I don't know if we've seen the same. I was never in the French Army you know that. I joined the British army, but I didn't stay in the country long. All this time when you thought I was doing Aid work in other countries, when I would tell you all I was safe and sound and away from the fighting doing other things to help people - a lie. I was over in Afghanistan." He gestured at the prosthetic almost angrily. "That reminds me of many things I did wrong. Reminds me that I abandoned my training, I acted without thought - with panic. I should never have run - they shot my dog first..."
His hands curled into fists; angry at the memories. "I stepped on that fucking IED; something I'd trained for, to defuse..."
He felt hot tears roll down his cheeks and splashed onto his jeans though he didn't sob.
"I never said anything because I didn't want to further disrupt everything. Just turning up like I did already threw everything out and over for a loop. Figured I was saving everyone the trouble." He frowned and shook his head quickly, God how could he have missed this? "I have failed you as your brother," His expression twisted, frustrated at himself for what he hadn't seen. He knew Joe had been having a tough time, but he'd thought it was what it had been for all of them, he'd thought the therapy and the physio would help him get some grip on his new reality. Instead, his brother had been hiding lost limbs and appendages, had thought he was a disruption. "You did not throw anything for a loop, you are not a trouble to save us from. I am sorry you would even think so." His frown deepened in worry for what else he had missed. "You have made us whole. I felt relieved to have you home, and I know the others did too. We are so glad to see you come back to us - your family. I have been waiting for you to come back ever since you left."
It pained him to see what a mess this had become. He should have tried harder, should have reached out further to his younger brother. People were good at hiding things, but this was a lot to hide, and things that could have been helped. "I know our family had grown somewhat over the years, and it is louder now, and busier...I know that doesn't help with everything you have been through, but you are a part of this family, and we want you here... we need you here with us." He hoped it wasn't too much but he didn't want Joe to ever think that he had to feel awkward here in his own home, to feel that he was in the way. He stayed with him, watching Joe place something into his ear - he had known his hearing wasn't quite right but again, he hadn't known the extend. God, his heart hurt.
"Don't be sorry," Easier said than done. "I was the one who screwed things up. I never said about it because I am ashamed of it - everything has been a well oiled lie." He shook his head again, adamant. "You haven't screw anything up, and there should never be anything you need to be ashamed to tell me. It's me," He shrugged and spread his hands with the tiniest of smiles. He could take anything from his siblings, would hear anything. "I don't know if we've seen the same. I was never in the French Army you know that. I joined the British army, but I didn't stay in the country long. All this time when you thought I was doing Aid work in other countries, when I would tell you all I was safe and sound and away from the fighting doing other things to help people - a lie. I was over in Afghanistan. That reminds me of many things I did wrong. Reminds me that I abandoned my training, I acted without thought - with panic. I should never have run - they shot my dog first..."
Dustin stayed quiet for a moment, giving Joe his time to talk, to finally let it out. "I stepped on that fucking IED; something I'd trained for, to defuse..." Dustin's eyes were full of sorrow as his looked at his younger brother, listening to him, being there for him. All he could feel was sorrow, and pain for what he had been through, what he had left unsaid, what he had kept hidden. It was too much for him to have held in all this time, he wished he had known sooner. "We all make mistakes, especially one's born of fear, or instinct. I know that means nothing, I know that changes nothing, but you are not alone. You need to know that." His mistakes had gotten other people blown up, instead of himself. "I know we served for different countries, but is war not the same everywhere?" He sighed sadly, "Blood, death and treachery. It follows every fight." And he hated it. "It hurts to know that you lied to us, that you felt the need to. We, of all people, would understand, even with the worry for you, it plays me the fool for reassuring the others every time we worried when we didn't hear from you for some time; you were never in danger... when all this time, you've been at the front of it. And have come home so in need of support, and have not allowed us to give it - not really." He said nothing in anger, just sadness that it had gotten this far. "Will you let us help you now?"
<3 HAYDEN MAY JAMES ONE SON | ONE UNBORN CHILD | ONE HORSE (ROULETTE)
"I have failed you as your brother," His expression twisted, frustrated at himself for what he hadn't seen. "You did not throw anything for a loop, you are not a trouble to save us from. I am sorry you would even think so." His frown deepened in worry for what else he had missed. "You have made us whole. I felt relieved to have you home, and I know the others did too. We are so glad to see you come back to us - your family. I have been waiting for you to come back ever since you left."
Joe slowly shook his head, his voice quiet, "You failed no one."You might feel whole now that I am home, but I'm not... I'm missing pieces... I don't feel right.
"I know our family had grown somewhat over the years, and it is louder now, and busier...I know that doesn't help with everything you have been through, but you are a part of this family, and we want you here... we need you here with us."
He shook his head again, adamant. "You haven't screw anything up, and there should never be anything you need to be ashamed to tell me. It's me," He shrugged and spread his hands with the tiniest of smiles.
Joe's voice caught in his chest, a surge of guilt riding over him. He didn't know if he was able to tell them what went through his mind. The thoughts. He saw their happiness and he was glad to see it, but he felt like he was the stone that was going to shatter it. Hurting Heather and attacking Kara over dinner... he was destructive, violent, and he had no idea if or when he was going to hurt someone else. It's because I'm the weak one... Yes, that's right. How could you want someone like me in your home?
"We all make mistakes, especially one's born of fear, or instinct. I know that means nothing, I know that changes nothing, but you are not alone. You need to know that." His mistakes had gotten other people blown up, instead of himself. "I know we served for different countries, but is war not the same everywhere?" He sighed sadly, "Blood, death and treachery. It follows every fight." And he hated it. "It hurts to know that you lied to us, that you felt the need to. We, of all people, would understand, even with the worry for you, it plays me the fool for reassuring the others every time we worried when we didn't hear from you for some time; you were never in danger... when all this time, you've been at the front of it. And have come home so in need of support, and have not allowed us to give it - not really." He said nothing in anger, just sadness that it had gotten this far. "Will you let us help you now?"
Joe felt more tears roll down onto his jeans as he tightened his fists a little more. How did you tell the people you were meant to love that you still felt alone despite the people in the room? He wanted to explain why - how he wanted to make his brother's proud. How he didn't want them to fret. It's because you aren't good enough. You're a danger. Dustin's words hurt, brought back dull aches. Joe couldn't look at him; he couldn't admit that he'd begged for his brother's through the pain. That it was their faces that loomed over him in his nightmares where the cowards that tortured him hadn't shown their faces. His good hand uncurled and began tapping quickly against his thigh.
"I can't," he whispered, "I..."
His throat was tight again, the words strangled, "I have to do this.. on my own. Y-you can't tell the others."
It was his fault everything was falling apart around him, his fault entirely. He was causing disruption, he was being awful. It was like watching a strange picking at people he loved and yet there was no way to stop it.
"You failed no one." Dustin shook his head slightly, Joe could say that all he liked, but it wasn't true. He was supposed to protect his siblings, look over them, give them the life they deserved. He had thought years ago he was doing right by turning to the army and sending the rest away overseas, but all it had seemed to do was encourage them to do the same, it had led them to danger and pain. And even now, when they were home and under his wing once again he hadn't seen enough - had missed so much of Joe's pain and struggle, and he felt ashamed for it, frustrated at himself for not realising, not doing more. He had wanted to give Joe space, and he had given him so much that he hadn't even seen what he'd missed.
Dustin held his brother's gaze as he saw similar emotions mirrored in Joe's own face - it seemed silly, they both felt guilty for what had happened, for each other, and there they were telling each other not to be. It was hard to see that through though. Joe didn't answer, and Dustin felt his stomach drop slightly, worried he had pushed too hard, had said the wrong thing - always worrying. He just wanted to know what to do to help him, to make him feel better, more comfortable. As the tears began to roll, Dustin felt his own throat clog and he coughed, trying to clear the lump. "Joe, God I am so sorry," He couldn't help it, he couldn't stand to see his brother so upset.
He had to, he couldn't sit there and watch him cry. He made it known - his intentions - as he leaned forward, arms wide, giving his brother the change to pull away if he needed to as he attempted to wrap him in a hug - a good hug. He wanted to hug him fiercely, but he didn't at first, not wanting to bring back bad memories. "I can't, I... I have to do this.. on my own. Y-you can't tell the others." Dustin shook his head, "you shouldn't do this on your own, we are always here for you, for anything you need. Let us be there.. please. The others.. they would want to know, it will make things easier to understand - to help you." He almost begged, it would be so difficult to keep such a thing secret.
<3 HAYDEN MAY JAMES ONE SON | ONE UNBORN CHILD | ONE HORSE (ROULETTE)
Joe could hear him, he knew he should've just pulled it together but it felt like the more he tried, the more things were falling apart. Like bricks in a wall tumbling down, one patch and two more holes showed up. He saw Dustin's arms rise up and there was a moment in his mind where he thought something awful was going to happen, yet he froze. The fact it turned into a hug left him confused, dredging up a longing to be held. He wanted to return it, hold on and never let go. His hands twitched as they went to reach for Dustin - YOU'LL KILL HIM! The suddenness of the voices in his head caused him to jump, withdrawing his hands from reaching out.
Dustin shook his head, "You shouldn't do this on your own, we are always here for you, for anything you need. Let us be there.. please. The others.. they would want to know, it will make things easier to understand - to help you."
They weren't there when you were crying for them, begging and pleading in the dark. They'll treat you different. They'll pity you. They'll baby you. You hurt your own sister. You tried to turn on your brother. You'll hurt the little ones. You need to leave them. You need to disappear. Joe became aware of a burning in his chest which told him that he'd stopped breathing for longer than his body was prepared to put up with. He reached up and gripped his hair, pulling on it tightly in the hopes the voices would shut up if the pain was great enough. The harsh pain on his scalp encouraged air into his lungs as a gasping sob, finding the ability to breathe again.
Why? Why couldn't his brother go back to bed when he'd asked him to? Why was he such a fucking failure? This could've been avoided. He would've rathered his family telling him off for his bad sleeping habits. For not eating properly. For everything. Why did he even bother trying the stairs?
"N-no," he whimpered pitifully, "Th-th-hey can't k-know."
