Crazy Love, Vol II (Josh)

[Dr. Sean Neville]

((OOC: This occurs after "You Say Potatoes, I Say Tatws".))


Sean had a Polaroid picture from 1979 in a small frame which he kept in his study at home. A very tall brown-haired young man sat on a sofa with his arm around a shorter boy with darker hair, whose head rested on his shoulder. The room was drab, the sofa was beat up, their hair was too long, and the taller one had atrocious sideburns. There was nothing remarkable about the two young men, except for their smiles – real, not feigned for the photo; the photographer had caught them off guard – and the fact that one look in either man’s eyes conveyed that there was nowhere else they would rather be.

Sean had a ring that was too small to fit any of his fingers because he’d gained weight, but which he used to wear as a pinky ring. Spotted by the giver at the Clearwater Festival, it purported to enhance psychic powers. Neither of them had believed it, but still he wore it every day for six years, even after the giver had no longer been in a position to notice. Now he kept it in a small keepsake box in his sock drawer.

Sean had a recipe for noodle kugel written in very neat handwriting on an index card which he kept with his cookbooks on the small shelf near the kitchen. Given to him because he was such a nice young man who looked after an even nicer younger man and made sure he had friends. It was stapled to a recipe for rugelach written in sloppier handwriting on a different index card, given to him because he had a sweet tooth and sometimes he could be wicked.

Sean had forty-two years of journals, which he kept in boxes in his attic. They contained detailed descriptions of his days, his thoughts, his dreams, his goals, and what he experienced from others. For as long as he’d been a telepath, he had nightmares about drowning. Two volumes of those journals detailed how the dreams of water in his lungs were replaced by being ripped to shreds. Every time he closed his eyes for longer than he would care to admit. He no longer had those drams, but he remembered them vividly.

Sean had a brown tee shirt that symbolized Bear Pride that he kept in his dresser drawer that he’d been given for his fortieth birthday. He couldn’t wear anywhere because he wasn’t actually a Bear, and because it would only arouse more questions. But one September night, very drunk and not alone, he wore it to bed by request.

Sean had a strawberry shortcake which he kept in his refrigerator, a bottle of wine he hadn’t opened, which he kept in his liquor cabinet, a bouquet of flowers which he’d put in a vase in his bedroom and a card which he’d put up on the refrigerator with a peace sign magnet.

Sean had a car with a brand new engine and a shiny paint job to cover up the damage done when the car had crashed into a light pole. He kept the car in his garage when he wasn’t using it. Today he was using it, and it rolled into the driveway of a familiar house. It was past suppertime, and it had been a couple of days. He honked once to get the attention of the person inside and more importantly, to draw him outside and to the car.

Sean had thirty-three years of thoughts he’d kept to himself. Now it was time to share them.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Several days had passed since his confrontation with Sean. He hadn't confided in anyone. While he had no shortage of friends, the only ones he was remotely comfortable confiding anything in were Sean, Cobalt and Riley.

Sean wasn't an option for obvious reasons.

Cobalt he'd already had one uncomfortable conversation with. They didn't need another. And besides, the other attorney had enough drama with Leila in the hospital and whatever was happening (or wasn't, as they weren't speaking to one another) with Ben.

The closest he'd come was his desperate recruitment of Riley's baking skills, and even then he hadn't really leaned on the other man emotionally. Some of that was his own discomfort with emotions; some was because Riley was, well, a Very Nice Guy. And while he knew the landscaper was far too nice to judge him, there was something very awkward about telling someone nice all about how you'd been a huge douche. So he hadn't told Riley, either.

So after delivering his apology to Sean's house he had gone home, and, apart from work, home was where he had stayed. It was much easier to feel crushingly guilty when there weren't people around encouraging him to cheer up. He didn't want to cheer up, he wanted to pay penance by moping around his house being miserable.

The sound of a car horn in his driveway was unexpected, and he drifted from the kitchen, where he was absently nibbling on saltines and peanut butter, to the foyer, peeking out the window.

A familiar car, one he'd had the misfortune of attempting to drive, was parked there.

Conflicting emotions welled up inside him, a confusing jumble of trepidation and relief. He was thrilled that Sean was willing to end the (admittedly short) silence, but anxious about this reparation. After the words between them he wasn't sure how they could easily mend their friendship.

He inhaled deeply, pushing open the door and hesitantly making his way down to the car. He didn't lock the door behind him.

He made it all the way to the car and then stopped uncertainly before rapping on the driver's side window.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean knew that his friend was home, and so he waited in the driveway for Josh to hear the horn and take notice of his vehicle outside. He spent no time composing himself or mulling over what he would say when he saw the other man. He knew exactly what would happen, at least on his part. He had all of that planned before he’d gotten into this car and began the drive.

In anticipation of the other man joining him, he unlocked the doors, waiting for Josh to open the door and climb into the passenger seat. That didn’t happen. Josh was apparently choosing the route of maximum caution.

It wasn’t surprising. It wasn’t as though their last conversation had ended in anything other than submissive posturing and guilt that rolled off Josh’s mind in waves.

The telepath rolled down his window at the tap. He looked up at the other man, who was standing, and he twirled his finger in a gesture directed at the other side of the vehicle. His voice was even, with no hint of the heavy emotions from the other day. However, he also spoke somewhat cryptically. “Get in the car. We’re going for a drive.”

The finality in his tone made it plain that this wasn’t a request. This was the term on the table.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh gave Sean a nervous smile when he rolled down the window, but before he could utter any greeting the telepath was ordering him into the car. The tone was even, but the imperative didn't give him any confidence that this would end in their usual easy, comfortable pretense.

Whatever relief he had initially felt gave way to further anxiety, but he obediently returned to the passenger side of the car, sliding wordlessly inside. An overwhelming urge to apologize profusely came over him, but the solemn look on Sean's face together with the cryptic order were enough to prevent him from launching immediately into groveling, and so he pressed his lips together in a subconscious attempt to keep words from spilling out.

He snapped the seatbelt over his shoulder, making a display of adjusting it because the silence was making him uneasy, but he didn't think it was his place to break it. Whatever reasons Sean had for demanding this drive of him were his to divulge in his own time.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean waited until Josh had closed the door and fastened his seatbelt (safety first) before he pulled the car out of the driveway and turned them onto the road. However, he didn’t navigate them further into town; instead he put them in the opposite direction, towards the highway. But for the fact that Josh had entered of his own free will, this could become an interstate kidnapping.

Sean liked driving. He found it calming because he was impervious to road rage, and because everyone was in their own little bubble of reality. It gave the illusion of solitude, even though telepathy could easily pierce that. This evening he wanted a drive because he wanted no further distractions from this conversation and no ability to escape the discomfort with work to do or someone to call.

Tonight it was only them.

It wasn’t until he navigated them onto the entrance for the highway that he gave a brief itinerary of the evening’s activities. “We need to talk, to actually talk.”

His eyes flickered briefly from the road to look at his friend beside him, as he explained, “I can’t pretend the other day didn’t happen, or that the past two months didn’t happen. Or that everything we don’t talk about never happened.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh glanced out the window as they drove in silence, watching the scenery rushing by. At first he'd thought perhaps they would head to Sean's house, but it was soon apparent that wasn't the case at all, and he slid his gaze from the window to the driver, blue eyes questioning silently.

But instead of telling him where they were headed, Sean told him they needed to talk.

Josh was an extrovert. He loved to talk about politics and music and parties and friends and food. He did not like to talk about feelings. Feelings, or more specifically, feelings regarding intimate relationships, made one vulnerable in ways he'd never been entirely comfortable with. Even when he and Sean had been dating he'd shied away from discussing them too honestly, and afterward he'd avoided feelings conversations even more.

But the telepath was right.

They couldn't pretend this hadn't happened. Their friendship was forever altered and no amount of pretending would make it right again. He wasn't convinced that talking would really resolve anything (if he believed in talking he would have done it decades ago) but that was what Sean wanted, so he would submit.

"We can talk."

He clasped his hands in his lap, knuckles white. It was obvious just how deep Sean wanted to go, given the hints about the rest of their secrets.

"Where....what.....where did you want to begin?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The other man’s discomfort was precisely why Sean had put off this conversation for so long; while he didn’t feel the discomfort of other’s the way an empathy would, as his own emotions, he remained wholly aware of the discomfort, hearing and seeing and sensing it. He had to shield to prevent the awareness, and then that only provided blinders; the damage was already done. He didn’t want Josh to feel uncomfortable around him, or at all.

But this...the disaster the other day demanded that he set aside his worry about Josh in the short-term to allow him to help Josh in the long-term.

“I want this to be a safe space.” It was his car, not his office, but this was where they were. “I won’t lie to you: this will be uncomfortable for both of us.” That was evident in the fact that his friend’s knuckles had already turned white and they had yet to begin. “There will be intense emotions; we’ll have to talk about buried thoughts, parts of ourselves we might not want to acknowledge. There could be crying. I promise for my own part that I won’t raise my voice.”

It was bad enough he had done so in the first place the last time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d raised his voice in a situation where he hadn’t done so in order to be heard, instead due to emotion.

And once that was established, he began. “I’m not mad at you."

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh listened in dismay to the litany of horrible things that were going to happen in this car. He wouldn't call any of that safe. He didn't want for them to both be uncomfortable, or for there to be tears. He wanted the teasing banter that marked the good times.

But he couldn't get out of this, not without making things worse. If the price of friendship was that right now, in this car, he would have to squirm uncomfortably, then he was resolved to do so. That desperation to reconcile, and to meekly agree to whatever conditions Sean set, was perhaps the one good thing that had come out of their earlier confrontation.

He nodded slowly to show that he understood the terms. Discomfort, tears, confessions. There were so many truths he didn't want to share, and he couldn't think how admitting them would help at all. If anything, he could only see such revelations pushing them further into ruin. But that was an uncertain doom; refusing to talk would make things certain.

He cocked his head to one side when Sean said he wasn't mad, confusion coloring his expression.

"But...you....should be...." He responded slowly. "I wasn't fair to you." Or to Dr. Jones, but that was a separate discussion. "I should have come to you and I didn't. You have every right to be mad."

Besides, he had yelled. If that wasn't a clear indication of anger then Josh didn't know what was.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The telepath was well aware of the reasons why he was entitled to be angry. Josh’s summary of his points the other day remained as accurate as it had been at the time. He could be angry, because of Josh’s behavior; his friend had been prepared to throw away their relationship without as much as a courtesy call to check due to his irrational fears. His friend had ignored him for two months deliberately, had been cruel to someone who meant him no harm and had only wanted to be friend. Had missed his birthday, although the telepath didn’t mind that as much as others might; his birthdays had grown more and more depressing over the years.

But he wasn’t angry. He was hurt, and he was horrified, and he was saddened.

They would be on this same stretch of highway for a long time, and so he let his eyes move briefly to glance at his friend, unconcerned about missing an exit.

“You want me to bludgeon you so you can atone, but I don’t think you understand why I was upset the other day.” He took a deep breath and then explained further. “You’re my closest friend. Don’t you know me? Do you really have no idea how I see you?”

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh opened his mouth to object to the idea that he wanted Sean to be mad at him, but the explanation that followed gave him pause.

Shit.

Sean was right.

He would never have realized that on his own, but now that it had been pointed out to him he couldn't deny that his friend was absolutely correct, and that was just embarrassing.

"You were upset because I made assumptions and didn't come to you about them." That was the obvious answer, wasn't it? "And you were right, I should have asked." His shoulders drooped. "And I realize now that....it was a silly conclusion to come to."

He wasn't sure how to answer the question. Wasn't sure if it was meant to be answered or it was rhetorical. And if he was supposed to answer it, well, there were too many considerations clouding his judgment.

There was what Sean said, and how he behaved, and both of those pointed to affection. But there was also insecurity and jealousy and possessiveness, all of which twisted his perceptions despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that he tried desperately to pretend that none of them existed.

"Of course I do!" He exclaimed defensively, first instinct to deny that his reality was warped. "What is it you always tell people, that we're closer than brothers? You....you made it clear how idiotic I was being the other day. When you reminded me of all the things you've done for me."

That one word, reminded, was an unintentional confession that he sometimes forgot, caught up in emotions he didn't want to (or know how to) deal with.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

((OOC: In Star Trek, specifically in Vulcan, there is a word that means friend, brother, lover, or all three. T'hy'la. As a Trekkie, I wanted to use that in my post. But alas, Sean isn't a Trekkie, so I put it here instead.))


The telepath was aware of the fact that he was right; that had always been a double-edged sword, his understanding of the human mind and human behavior. While it provided illumination, it could also be a crutch, for himself and for others.

There could be no crutches today.

Instead, he waited patiently, silently, as his friend worked through what he had said and what needed to be said. And while Josh was closer to the point than he’d been two days ago – aside from not defending his erroneous conclusion he was actually talking about underlying issues – he still didn’t quite have it. “I was upset because you believed it of me. It’s an odious thought, that I would just cut you off. It wasn’t only that you didn’t talk to me, although that made it worse. But you were so convinced of it.”

Sean took one hand off the wheel briefly, ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s good that you realize it was absurd now. But we need to get to why it came up at all and why you clung to it.” He didn’t mean to make this an informal session, but this is what discussing everything entailed.

“We are closer than brothers.” That was his point in all this; one didn’t cut off one’s brother. One certainly didn’t cut off the myriad roles and connections Josh occupied in relation to him.

He then sighed when Josh began paraphrasing what he had said the other day. He needed this to come from the other man, not from him. He didn’t want specific answers; it wasn’t a test. He wanted to lay everything out between them and have only honesty. But then there was something there, some of Josh’s, whether he realized or not. “Why do you forget? Is it because none of this is tangible to you and so you have to take it on faith? Is it expectation?” Was it something else entirely?

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh shifted uncomfortably as Sean clarified what exactly had made him upset. When put this way it made so much sense; now that he thought about it, he would have been upset if Sean had thought the same of him.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, the apology automatic. If he could take it all back he would.

The next question took him by surprise, as he hadn't even realized the implications of what he'd said.

"Pardon?" He replied, looking at Sean in shock before it dawned on him why this was even being asked. "Oh. Well..." This wasn't a topic he'd taken pains to think about before, and so he lapsed into silence for a moment as he struggled to articulate all the reasons behind his forgetfulness.

"I'm not entirely sure how to...how to explain this." He began at last, shifting his focus to the dashboard. If they were going to have complete honesty then he supposed he ought to admit when he wasn't even sure what was going on with himself. "When we're together it's....it really seems obvious that you care. But when we're not together, it's easy to ahhh to convince myself that's not the case. You're nice to everyone and I uhh I guess I don't really....I don't really....I don't really deserve your regard and doubts just creep in."

He realized that he was beginning to slouch, and hurriedly straightened. "But that's not your fault!"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“I know.” Sean’s voice held no reproach. He accepted and understood the truth behind the apology, but he wasn’t fishing for one. The telepath realized that in Josh’s desire to atone, he could likely get anything out of his friend right now; he could likely hold this over his head for a long time, to make him apologize for any slight in his long memory, or to simply get his way in the future, or possibly guilt sex. Because this wasn’t a little mistake like missing supper plans. This was the type of error that would cause a less patient man to sever ties.

Because, in its totality, it was probably the worst thing Josh had ever done to him. The breakup had hurt more but that was his baggage as much as the other man’s, if not more so; Josh wasn’t a telepath, and he didn’t understand what had happened those years ago, not from the same perspective.

But this had been entirely Josh’s fault, and Sean recognized that, and he knew Josh did as well. That was what the eagerness and the submissive posturing told him, and it concerned him.

He didn’t want to get his way just because it would save them an argument; he didn’t want a million favors; he didn’t want Josh to batter his sense of self-worth in the hopes of gaining external validation; and he definitely didn’t want to have sex with someone who felt it was something he might owe.

He only wanted honest dialogue, because he only wanted to keep his best friend in his life. But this pattern was unsustainable, and it was killing him slowly, killing them both slowly. And that was why he valued the other man’s efforts to try and explain.

“That’s fine, just try your best.” The telepath’s encouragement was automatic, and he didn’t intend it to be patronizing. He only intended to convey that he had no expectations beyond honesty, that there were no right or wrong answers, and that Sean wouldn’t judge Josh for his explanation.

However, as he listened, he was saddened, and he shook his head. The other man’s self-esteem issues were unfounded, because he was such a good man. They would also present problems later in this conversation when Sean tried to explain his perspective, but that could wait. “Why do you think you’re undeserving?”

No judgment with that question; rather, it was an attempt to understand, for them both to understand. Some of it already synced with what Josh had said in his office the other day, but they needed to scratch the surface, and they needed to do so together. “And I do care. I know we’re together now so that doesn’t undo what you think when you’re alone, but I do care.”

He sighed softly then, turning briefly to look at the other man before returning his eyes to the road. “I don’t think you’re blaming me, but thank you for the reassurance.” Josh had said nothing aggressive since their conversation in the office; Sean took no offense to anything said in this car. Those were the rules.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Sean had been absolutely correct when he'd said that this would be painful. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right now. Or any time, for that matter. He didn't want to delve into self-esteem issues (which, if anyone had asked, he would have denied having. Self-esteem issues were so undignified, real men did not have those. Not that he would have worded it quite that way.) and he certainly didn't want to explain all the myriad reasons he thought he was unworthy of Sean's friendship.

Because that would open up a whole new discussion, one going back to the beginning of this whole mess, and it was just complicated. This was why he hated talking about feelings.

However, as far as talking about feelings went, it was far better that Sean ask these sorts of questions, because this was ultimately the easiest way for Josh to do so, to frame his thoughts in short, digestible chunks and to be lead to think about specific issues one at a time. And with that realization in mind, he supposed he was grateful that was the way Sean was approaching this if he was going to be forced to talk about feelings.

"Are you sure you want....no, I know, you asked, of course you want to know." Sean wouldn't have asked for honest dialog if he didn't truly want it.

"There's just so many....I mean....you're kind, you're gentle, you're thoughtful and understanding and responsible and intelligent and conscientious and patient." He ran one hand over his face, frustrated at his inability to articulate this in a succinct manner. "I'm...I don't...." He wasn't as innately good as Sean was. He had to work at it and then he failed more often than not. The last two months were proof of that. "I'm not as patient as you, I don't understand people very well. I try but it's not that easy. You manage all this so effortlessly, it would make more sense if....if you were best friends with someone like Riley." Who was also on Josh's very short list of innately Good people.

"Ahh....that reminds me..." He added sheepishly, "You have Riley's cake tray. I uhh asked his help with the cake." Most of the work had been Riley, of course, but he'd helped wash and slice the strawberries, so that was something.

"But uhhh I'm just not as....as patient or nice as you are. So I suppose sometimes it's a bit...difficult to digest that...that you'd want to spend your time with me when you're probably disappointed in me a lot."

Case in point, the last two months. He was going to feel awful about that for a long time.

"And....I...I know this sounds awful," He gave the telepath an apologetic look, "but uhh...." Full disclosure. That was what this conversation was about and it was so hard. "Well....I...okay," He took a deep breath and returned his attention to the dashboard, which was easier to look at than Sean during this whole confessional. "You should have left a long time ago. I guess I've been half expecting that you would. Not because of you or....or anything you've done, but, ahhh, because, well, because, see....I mean, I did break up with you." Why was that so hard to say? Because he tried to avoid that part of their relationship for the last thirty years? Because when he really thought about it he regretted it? "And I...you....it would make a lot of sense if you wanted to...to umm..." hold it against me "complete that."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The telepath listened and then said, “Before I met you, Greg was my best friend.” That shouldn’t come as a surprise, given how Josh had met both of them. The telepath loved Greg in a wholly platonic way, in a way that was never anything but platonic. He was smart, loyal, and passionate, but Riley he was not. And before Greg there had been Maggie, the only girl at Hammel willing to put up with his company. Sean had no illusions of perfection.

Then the conversation’s flow was briefly interrupted for that note; of course Riley had been involved in baking the cake. The telepath nodded his acknowledgement of that. “I’ll transfer the cake and wash the tray so I can give it back.” That, unlike the rest of it, was easily fixed.

He took another deep breath then. “I felt the same way with Robert, you know.” Sean had been fortunate enough to know perfection, and his name had been Robert Hopkins. But Sean was far from perfect.

He then shook his head at the rest of his friend’s list of good qualities and then Josh’s perspective of his own shortcomings. “You’re smart and funny, and you care. It’s the first thing I ever noticed about you, and that’s something that has never changed.”

His hand moved to the turn signal, flipping it as he switched them into the slower lane, as he had no intention of speeding. “And I’m not disappointed in you.” Sometimes he was baffled, but mostly... “Sometimes I’m hurt.”
At the warning that what the other man had to say would sound awful, Sean turned to look at him briefly, questioningly, but he didn’t speak; he let Josh go at his own pace. He locked eyes with Josh during his apologetic look, before returning his attention to the road. He had fully expected to broach the breakup tonight, although they had never discussed that in depth. After the breakup, Josh had wanted space, and Sean had pulled together what remained of his support network to make himself as whole as possible. That was one reason, beyond mere affection for a friend, that the telepath had posted Greg’s bail after the arrest.

“I want to make sure I’m hearing this correctly,” he said, and his voice was gentle, unlike the last time he’d had occasion to narrate the other man’s thought processes. “It makes more sense to you that I would hold the breakup against you and push you away because of it, maybe hold you at arm’s length and banish you from my inner circle?”

He took a deep breath before explaining his own perspective. “You have it backwards. I’m grateful for our friendship.” Attention on the road, he sighed and then became silent for a long moment before he added, “I’ve always been grateful for our friendship.”