Power Swap: Here There Be Monsters [Sean]

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“I’ve lived everyone else’s lives for the past forty-two years,” he hissed, tightening his grip. It was apparent throughout this conversation and every prior interaction that Cobalt didn’t understand telepathy. “I was my own person once, and when I was twelve, I died,” he spat, “there was nothing left inside of me except this intensity and the telepathy. I didn’t have holes; I was a hole, I was the abyss. And I can’t revert back to that person I used to be because he’s been dead for four decades.”

That rant, however, was forgotten. There were few things in this world that could wholly and completely enrage Sean Neville, but questioning his devotion to Joshua Bernstein was one of them. Lightning quick, he released Cobalt’s arm from his grip, and a second later, he punched him hard in the stomach. He could return to his rant later, but the most important matter was that Cobalt, who knew better, had said that Josh was second to anything, had said that he didn’t think he mattered.

“Let me make this perfectly clear, Cobalt, I sat through your little intervention with my mouth shut tight for Josh’s benefit, because I don’t like it when he’s torn down from his pedestal. But I wasn’t the one who ended it the first time. He’s the one who left, and I’m the one who nearly drove my van off a cliff. I’m the one who had violent nightmares every night because he wasn’t there anymore. I’m the one who was left behind after every drunk tumble into bed, because he didn’t want to face me in the morning. I’m the one that he stopped talking to after that stunt you pulled when the only thing I ever did was love him too much.” There was a rush of emotions in the psychiatrist’s voice, all of them coming forth as he punched a second time, although this wasn’t quite as reflexive and thus wasn’t as hard.

He grabbed Cobalt again, lifted him off the ground to let him dangle because it was obvious from the last attempt it made him uncomfortable. “Every instinct I’ve ever had is to make myself invisible for my partners, to become their needs and to bury my own. I don’t have that ability anymore but the instinct is still there. And Josh is in over his head, and I can’t make it better for him. I can’t fix this and it’s killing both of us.”

He stared into the other man’s eyes, his forehead creased in fury. “I showed him the darkness inside of me, and he’s scared. The fact that he’s scared for me rather than of me isn’t that important. Because one of us is going to break, and if he breaks, I break. At least if I break first, he has a chance after me.”

He tightened his grip on the collar of Cobalt’s shirt. “I’m not going to tell him because he shouldn’t worry. He has too many worries already without knowing that one of his friends busted my lip open and him now afraid that I can’t handle myself in public. Because he can’t chaperone me everywhere.”

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt opened his mouth to reply when Sean drove his fist into his stomach. Breath whooshed out of his lungs and Cobalt doubled over, the force of the blow knocking him to his knees. Holy shit. He coughed, pressing a hand to his chest, “…Wasn’t…wasn’t my idea…” That stupid intervention was never his idea. He stayed on his knees, motionless as Sean’s words came tumbling out. Oh Josh… He didn’t move when Sean punched him again, the wind getting knocked clean out of him.

He did thrash instinctually as Sean lifted him off his feet. He didn’t like being off his feet, especially because previous experience had taught him that he should expect to be thrown very shortly. Probably somewhere painful. That was usually how it went.

However, the pain and shock of this granted him a sense of clarity that usually accompanied a fistfight. There were a few things he knew to be true. And one of them was that Sean Neville was a pacifist. Sean Neville was an adamant pacifist, and somehow, the very same Sean Neville had punched him twice, and was now waving him about like he were a kitten. This was kind of a big deal.

That was when he finally started listening. Remembering what they had actually said to each other.

“I was my own person once, and when I was twelve, I died,”

“And when I look in Josh’s eyes, all I see is pity…”

“I’m the one who had violent nightmares every night because he wasn’t there anymore…”

“I hope you enjoyed that. The last partner I had who used to hit me certainly did.”

…Holy god.

“I didn’t enjoy it.” He said suddenly, his voice slightly strained since Sean was still kind of choking him. It wouldn’t make any sense from Sean’s point of view, but now it was crucial Sean know this, “Hitting you. I don’t…” He squirmed in Sean’s grasp, trying to free up his windpipe a little, “…I’m sorry.”

The apology seemed ridiculously understated to the magnitude of how much of a truly awful person he was, especially during the course of this conversation. But Cobalt had never been good at conciliatory words, and he didn’t even know where to begin. That, and he really was having some trouble breathing, which certainly wasn’t helping his articulation any. “I’m sorry I made you do this,” He said finally, going limp in Sean’s grasp, “This is why I try to keep people away from me when I’m…all messed up. Because I can’t…keep all this in…” Cobalt gestured towards his chest, still hanging in the air, “Because I think I might fall apart. Which… all I wanted you to do was just leave. People usually just leave when I act like that towards them. That’s all I know how to do.”

“Anyway.” Cobalt shifted awkwardly, feeling vulnerable and guilty and worn down, “I’m sorry. Could you please put me down? I’ll leave you alone.”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean didn’t care whose idea it had been, because it had been awful, and it had led to Josh ignoring him for over a week when he needed him most. There had been nobody to talk to, because all of his other friends had either been intentionally kept in the dark or involved in the misery and needed him for support. And Josh had been scared off again; Ben, Riley, and Cobalt had taken him from away, leaving Sean to have to bury all of his pain, the way he always did.

And the dam had finally broken.

He took no pleasure in any of this, because violence and unrestraint sickened him. But what little restraint he’d managed to retain had been stripped away by the other man’s callous accusations in the face of everything he tried to do and how much he had already lost.

Through the fury and the two strikes and the pain, he heard Cobalt do something utterly remarkable: he apologized. It was ten words, barely coherent, and wholly unexpected, because it was an actual apology. An apology not for any of what he had just set that had set Sean off, but for hitting him in the first place. The reassurance that he hadn’t enjoyed punching him in the mouth and making him bleed.

No longer in possession of his telepathy, he couldn’t follow Cobalt’s train of thought directly; still emotional, he couldn’t parse out his train of thought rationally.

He listened to the rush of words as Cobalt tried to explain his conduct, and he eased his grip on the other man’s shirt collar, before finally lowering him to the ground. Now his arm hurt. “You initiated this,” he reminded him, his voice more even than it had been, closer to the cold fury of earlier. “You started this conversation, and when I turned back to my car, you hauled off and punched me in the mouth.” He hadn’t had the opportunity to leave. And none of his remarks had been listened to. "I might have left otherwise."

The revelations weren't revelations because Sean knew that about Cobalt, which was why he'd wanted to help him in the first place, months ago. For what that had accomplished.

Then the psychiatrist looked down at his hands and shook his head to himself. “I’ve never struck anyone before, never even in self-defense.” The attorney could be proud of himself for breaking Sean down to that level, considering that he’d been beaten before and hadn’t thrown a punch in return.

He truly had nothing left if Cobalt Weaver had moved him to violence.

“Don’t make insinuations about Josh ever again,” he warned the attorney. It wasn’t much of a threat, because Sean didn’t want to hit him again, but he wanted the shorter man to understand where the line was. He couldn’t handle any more of those insinuations.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt’s feet hit the ground gratefully, although his stomach still hurt really badly. He supposed he deserved this. He definitely deserved worse than this. Cobalt wrapped an arm around himself and hunched over slightly to catch his breath. He nodded, “I know.” His voice was quiet; he didn’t have any more fight left in him, “I know.” He didn’t really know what else to say, and somehow he didn’t think that apologizing over and over again would really help.

At Sean’s statement, guilt rose up again, all but stifling him. He wanted to apologize, to say anything. But all that came out was “…Yeah. I could tell.”

Cobalt grimaced. That wasn’t what he wanted to say at all. Goddammit. Start over, try again. “I’m sorry I brought you to my level. You don’t actually deserve that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, wincing slightly. Cobalt was fairly certain that he was just about the worst person in the world, if he was the one to bring down Sean’s carefully cultivated pacifism. “I can’t…there’s nothing I can say to make up for this.” Which was painfully true. “Just…let me have it, I guess.” It was an invitation for Sean to do what he would; he doubted Sean would hit him again, but he would be within his rights to do so. But if Sean wanted to yell at him, or anything like that, Cobalt was prepared for that.

There were consequences to his actions, and he was prepared to accept them.

“I wont.” Cobalt agreed readily. It was a perfectly reasonable mandate, and Cobalt could accept this.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The former telepath was equally emotionally spent, and he leaned against his car, reaching up to rub his temples. He no longer had the same migraines that came with his telepathy, but he found that he was still prone to stress headaches. Considering the situation, he could expect a particularly painful one.

At the other man’s retort about his lack of experience in fights, he gave him a look, but Cobalt appeared to realize what he’d said. Then there were more apologies and an offer to let him continue to beat him into the ground. The psychiatrist had no intention of doing that; he was disgusted with himself for punching him twice.

Sean took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself, to slow his heart rate to little avail. “I haven’t deserved anything that’s ever happened in my life,” he informed him, still rubbing his temples in a vain attempt to ward off the brewing pain. “I’ve spent my entire adult life denying myself for other people. I’m a giant, and yet I’ve been taken advantage of for my entire life.”

It didn’t matter that the other man lacked context for most of these revelations; he didn’t care because he was simply letting this out. Cobalt was an audience; he expected no advice. He didn’t even expect sympathy. “And when people aren’t taking advantage of me, they’re afraid of me. Afraid of scary Sean Neville and his freakish psychic powers. I heard all of it. Every loathsome thought, every secret. Do you know what that feels like? To be twelve and to know that people were afraid of what was inside you and knowing they had a right to be because it killed you?”

He shouldn’t drink when he was depressed. He still had a flask in his glove compartment, and he was tempted. “To be twenty-five years old and be told that you are the harbinger of death because of what was inside of you? To make love to someone for twenty-eight years and never have himstay the next morning, and to be grateful for it because at least you had him for a few hours, even if you’re both drunk and he never says he loves you?”

Sean shook his head to himself, which agitated the headache. “I'm a mirror that can't make a reflection anymore and I'm tired.”

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt was expecting to get the shit kicked out of him. It was what he deserved as far as he was concerned, and he probably would have preferred it to what actually happened. Because instead of hurting him, Sean just leaned against the car, breathed, and began to talk. And Cobalt didn’t know what to do.

So he listened.

As it turned out, Cobalt and Sean might have been friends if they had been the same age and had gone to school together. He listened while Sean revealed fears and pains that were similar—never the same, they weren’t the same person—to his own. He, of course, had no way of relating to Sean’s romantic fears, and so had nothing to say about them. He did, however, press his hand to his temple in exasperation and sadness for his friend. Josh… you would handle it like this. He didn’t blame Josh. He couldn’t. He had no idea. And he was finally starting to see that.

When Sean finished, Cobalt shifted from one foot to the other, trying to figure out what to say. Finally, he sighed. Sean had shared with him. And maybe this would be an attempt at an explanation for his behaviour. He owed Sean that, at least.

“…No to most of your questions,” He said finally, “A little to one. I…people didn’t like me when I was younger either. And the…I guess, the worst of it was that it didn’t even have anything to do with my power. It’s a stupid power, it doesn’t even do anything. I know better now, but when I was younger, I used to wish I could blame my power. Because people just didn’t like me.” He huffed out a laugh, “Can’t blame them, as far as I can remember, I’m sure I was a little shit when I was younger. And I just got worse in Hammel, because I hated everything about the place. It saved you, but it destroyed me.” Cobalt shrugged, trying to keep the dramatics to a minimum.

“I never tried for relationships much, because I didn’t feel anything.” Cobalt spread his hands out slightly, “I just didn’t. Nothing that I could use in a relationship. I had a lot of anger, and a lot of pain and regrets. You can’t do anything with that. Nobody took advantage of me, because I didn’t let them. But, you know, at the same time, that also meant that I didn’t have anybody. I still don’t.”

“Ben…left me.” The words sounded strange, and he didn’t sound particularly devastated. He didn’t sound particularly anything, “Today. And I don’t know why. But it kind of solidifies my point that I am a generally unlovable human being. And that is predominantly my fault.”

He looked over at Sean, “I’m…this isn’t about me. But I thought you should know why I do what I do. I know you…probably already knew a lot of it, or all of it, from previous…telepath…stuff.” He gestured vaguely, “But I wanted you to hear it from me. As a…show of good faith or something. And an apology.”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“When I was a student, I would have loved your power,” he informed the other man. His roommate had been a telekinetic, and he’d adored his power, if not the other boy’s personality or sense of humor. But it was doing something instead of drowning, and that made it far better than his. He would have taken almost any other power in a heartbeat at twelve; he would have loved for it to go away so he could return home.

If that had happened, he would be married with a gaggle of Irish-Catholic children, a house with a white picket fence and a dog, a private practice in New York, possibly even a grandchild. He hadn’t fantasized about any of that in decades, but he knew it was true regardless. And there were reasons to be grateful for the telepathy, even if it made his entire life more complicated than anyone else understood.

The psychiatrist’s expression shifted at the revelation that Ben had left Cobalt, turning to sympathy, because he did sympathize, even if the other man looked and sounded apathetic. Sean knew better; that was numbness, and numbness was never to be confused with apathy. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, and he was sincere.

“The first lesson I ever learned about love was that it is wonderful and the last lesson was that I’ll never have it.” He shrugged his shoulders, strongly considering the flask in the glove compartment now. “Feeling unlovable is a miserable feeling.” Even if the other man’s personality was difficult to navigate around and he picked fights with other people and was generally violent, abrasive and painful t be near.

Sean was also now considering a cigarette, which was a disturbing thought, as he didn’t smoke. He blamed Josh for that; Josh smelled like cigarette smoke, and Josh smelled like home. Of course his fragile mind would link the two. He simply couldn’t succumb to temptation. “I appreciate it, the apology and the openness.” He sighed and rubbed his temples again. “And you’re right, I knew most of it. Not what happened today.” That was a given. He was no longer a telepath and thus would have no way of knowing. And he didn’t explain that by virtue of knowing, it should explain all of his past behavior as well; he thought it was implied, and it was no longer important.

And he succumbed. He opened the front passenger side door, popped open the glove compartment, and then pulled out his hip flask. The alcohol inside was warm and disgusting, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t cared about much recently. After two deep sips, he brought it away from his mouth and looked over at Cobalt again. “Josh is going to know that something happened, and I will lie to him,” he emphasized that to make the point that he wouldn’t inform Josh that one of his friends had gotten into a fight with his lover. “I expect you won’t do anything to undermine that.”

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt gave a small, wry grin, “I guess in hindsight it was probably best that I didn’t have a horrendously difficult power to manage along with everything else.”

At Sean’s apology, Cobalt just shrugged, “It’s. It’ll be fine.” He didn’t know what else to say about that. Because it wasn’t fine now. But he would adapt. He would eventually be manageable. Alone, yes. But he could survive; he was very good at surviving.

Cobalt actually did have to smile bitterly as Sean talked about his experience with love, and more or less delineated the very same lessons Cobalt learned. “We learned the same lessons then,” He murmured. He shrugged again, still deceptively nonchalant, “It happens. I shouldn’t be particularly surprised anymore. You get used to it.” He was being awfully cavalier about this, but he was already uncomfortable enough.

He watched quietly as Sean pulled out the flask from his car and took two long sips. At Sean’s statement, he instinctually opened his mouth to argue, but he stopped himself. Finally, he said, “…I respect your decision. I won’t say anything.” He didn’t like the idea of lying to his friend, even by omission. But it wasn’t his place to say anything anymore. He hoped Josh would understand, even though the other man would likely never know. Cobalt was getting a migraine.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“It probably was,” Sean agreed. It was no secret that he had great sympathy for anyone at Hammel who had difficulty with his or her powers, like Ann. It was no secret that he wouldn’t wish the struggles of such powers on anyone.

The former telepath doubted that it would be fine, but he had no comfort to offer Cobalt because there was nothing left inside of him to offer others. He hadn’t exaggerated when he’d told Cobalt that he no longer had the resources to poke at his holes, and he certainly didn’t have any recommendations. His relationship history was not for emulation.

At the other man’s remark, Sean didn’t smile, not even that mirthless, bitter smile he wore at the house these past few days. “So we did. They’re miserable lessons, those.” He then nodded when Cobalt said that he would get, and had gotten, used to it; that was what Sean had told Josh about being feared by other people. It was true, but that didn’t make it acceptable. However, life was entirely about adjusting to the conditions thrown at one. Unfortunately for both of them, it appeared that Cobalt Weaver understood this point better than Josh did.

Sean saw that he had the other man’s compliance, which was what he needed for this. He didn’t want to lie to Josh, but he couldn’t let Josh worry about him any more than he already did. The only upside was that he’d only been punched in the mouth, and they weren’t kissing; thus Josh would be less likely to notice the busted lip. And if he did...that was the purpose of the lie. “Thank you.”

The psychiatrist took another sip from the flask and then capped it; he needed to drive and he couldn’t allow his already subpar reflexes to become more impaired. There would be time to drink at home before Josh returned from work. “I need to go home and change before he can see my sleeve,” he informed Cobalt. He would also probably vomit since he certainly wanted to.

[Event !]

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