Wayne's hands lace together behind the back of his neck, loose and careful, his head bowed. He hasn't felt quite this bad off since the day he'd returned to Waynehouse to see his family transformed.
"I. I know. I know," he says quietly. He has full faith that Crichton would do his best to try and keep him from losing his shape entirely. "'m sorry. I just... This sucks." He's repeating himself as the ability to convey nuanced thought on the subject abandons him.
"No, no. I don't want to hear you say you're sorry. You don't have to be sorry for being a mess about it, c'mere." Crichton gently leads Wayne to the first available surface to sit on, one arm around his shoulder, urging Wayne to lean on him.
"You're one of my best friends in the entire world and I'm telling you right now that you'll have my support, but I need to know what's going on with your skin right now."
He doesn't know what to say, or where to start, really. Everyone that's seen this happen to him already knows, in as simple of words as he could offer to explain the phenomenon. Gil had...he'd gotten the full brunt of it, understanding the process due to his background. And Wayne knows that Crichton is smart. He's learned that you have to be very smart to be an astronaut. So maybe if he breaks it down in more technical terms, it would help him to wind back from the problem.
Sitting on the edge of his seat, Wayne looks down at the lightly deformed flesh of his hands, the creases at his knuckles weirdly, dramatically wedged.
"It's called autotoxicity. It's- when our bodies build up enough of a specific chemical cocktail it begins to destroy us from the inside. I don't know what your words for the neuropeptide signal complex would be, but it starts happening when I haven't had time to recover from extreme stress. It hurts," he murmurs, rubbing his fingers across the worse of the indents in his skin. "I've died like this before. It's. Kind of a defense mechanism. If I couldn't run from a fight, I'd just press on that hormone release until I died. It was better than staying in a hopeless fight."
Biology may not be his specialty, but the training to be an astronaut included a good deal of instruction on the topic, enough that he can follow what Wayne is telling him. Not enough that he'd know what to do to stop it. Assuming that would even be applicable to someone who isn't human.
When Wayne explains that it hurts, and that it's killed him before, Crichton leaves aside all the technical thinking and focusses on gently embracing his friend. Finding out that Wayne has used this to kill himself and escape a fight tears at his heart. But he also remembers that it's different for Waynes, they don't stay dead the same way a human would. So he takes a breath and makes an effort to separate his human ideals out of it.
"I hate that this happens to you man. I hate to think of you suffering so much that ending it is a better option. But, I get it." He tips his forehead against Wayne's. "Is that what you need right now? Or... can I stop this some way?"
If it weren't for what he'd already been hit with that day, it probably wouldn't be nearly as bad. He's dealt with a lot. He's stronger than this.
The thought he was stronger than this.
Wayne's hands rub across one another, in a self-soothing motion that starts to smooth out some of the more dramatic indenting that would inevitably be pressed right back into them. He wishes he'd put his gloves on, if only because then he wouldn't be as focused on what they must look like to others right now.
"Uh...my options are kinda..." Not great. "Either I die, or I wait. I need to take a bath, sleep, eat something..." It's all simple self-care stuff to most folks, but to him it's of vital importance. Not exactly something that someone else can help him with unless they're going out of their way to make those things happen, and he doesn't really want to make someone else do any of that anyway.
Gently, Crichton reaches to take Wayne's hands, as tenderly as if he was handling an infant. He just can't watch his friend fidget this way and do nothing.
"Do you need it in that order?" Wayne doesn't have to ask, and Crichton isn't inclined to take no for an answer. He'll carry Wayne there on his back if he has to. "I'll get you to the hot tub for a long soak. You can stay there while I grab food. You can sleep in there, too, if you want, I'll stand watch to make sure no one bugs you."
Wayne is dithering on whether or not to just take care of it himself. Crichton is trying to help, he obviously cares about his wellbeing. He's just not used to being looked after. But then again, he did seek Crichton out. He knows he needs other people, even if it's just to exist nearby.
"No, just...I need to take the time. I can get there," he replies quietly. He can still walk, even if his body aches with it. Letting his friend carry him would be a bridge too far.
"Okay..." Crichton still sounds skeptical, but he remembers how hard it used to be to get Aeryn to let him take care of her. If it will help Wayne keep some of his dignity, then he does get that.
"I'm going with you. And, before you try and say I don't have to let me just remind you that you would do the same for me. You have done the same for me. And I got nothing else to do today, anyway."
Wayne closes his mouth, already chastised for nearly doing exactly what he was going to. He doesn't want Crichton to fuss over him, but...well, he had done the same thing himself, and he knows how important it is to keep friends nearby in times like this when it feels like even the slightest push could spell disaster. He's already teetering on emotional meltdown, figurative and literal. Best not to push it.
"...thanks," is all he ends up saying, and he leans to let Crichton support him in the trip up to the hot tubs. At least it seems like they're deserted for now, and he would give very little thought to shrugging off the layer of his jumpsuit and boots to settle into the water up to his eyes.
He takes it slow, letting Wayne lean on him as much as he needs. Out of habit, he turns as Wayne strips, to give him some privacy until he's in the water.
"Oh. Seriously? Good to know. I promise not to drag you out and do CPR on you if you fall asleep below the waterline, then. I'm gonna head to Windjammers and grab some food; have any requests?"
"Yeah, it's one of those tradeoffs for not being able to swim I think. Too heavy, so I sink." It's as simple of an explanation as he can think to give right now anyway. He looks up from where he's still submerged up to his chin, his knees pulled up in front of himself with his arms wrapped around them. He doesn't necessarily want to eat, but he knows that he should. "Anything's good. Maybe something that's still good cold?" Since he'd probably only end up picking at it for a while.
"Huh. Now I sorta wish I hadn't gotten mad and thrown away those pool noodles. Could have used them to float on." They might still be around here somewhere, he didn't actually throw them over the side.
"I'll get some cheese and crackers with a side of fruit. We can nibble on that slowly." Yes, we. He's not leaving Wayne alone for longer than it takes to go get a plate of snacks.
As much as he wants to grouse a little bit that he doesn't need to be hovered over, he does appreciate that someone would be determined to take care of him like this.
He merely nods as he sinks himself further down into the water until it's only his eyes visible again, and watches for a long moment until Crichton is out of sight. Then, he dips down further until only the tops of his horns are visible above the water line. Probably not doing a great job at not being worrying, but the muffling effect of the water is comforting. It makes everything quiet. It hurts less. He can still hear, though everything sounds far away, and that's honestly better for him at the moment.
He'd pop back up when Crichton returns with the promised snacks.
Despite saying that, he takes his time. Wayne is safe in the water, starting the healing process, that gives Crichton a little time to come to terms with the news on his own. He really did like Gil. He was a no-nonsense stand-up dude, willing to go to bat for his friends but just as willing to talk things out rationally. He was the kind of guy Crichton would have enjoyed having a weekly beer with. They could have talked shop, swapped stories... Crichton would have loved to hear more about how he looked at the world.
"Why did you go but I'm still here?" Crichton asks the vast wall of cheese in front of him. As if Gil will somehow hear it or be able to answer? "I'll do what I can for Wayne... I promise."
He starts to gather up snack ingredients in earnest now, stuffing sleeves of crackers, cylinders of sausages, and wheels of cheese into a bag alongside dried fruits and olives. He lifts a knife and cutting board set to take with him, and snatches up a nice bundle of grapes on the vine before making his way to the exit.
"I got the goods," he announces once he emerges back on the pool deck. He drags over a lounge to spread his low-budget charcuterie board out on. "I'm gonna grab a drink from the tiki bar, you want one?"
The quiet and isolation do help, for the time that Crichton leaves him be. His thoughts are running along the same lines, wondering why it had to happen so suddenly. But then again, a lot of things happened suddenly around here. There's really no avoiding it or convincing it to slow down.
He could not in good faith wish for Gil to come back. Not when he knows the man was just as unhappy here as most others were. But gods does he miss him already.
Crichton returns with a whole charcuterie board's worth of snacks from the fromagerie, and Wayne blinks at it as he hauls himself up onto the edge of the tub, letting the water run off of him for a moment then reaching for a banana chip. Rather than eating it, he grips it in his palm, then opens it back up and lets the fragments of fruit crumble into the air. It's not necessarily visible, but taking it does shore up his Flesh just a little bit.
"Uh...they have those big fishbowl drinks with all the flavors. Get two straws and we can both have some?"
Crichton internally sighs in relief seeing Wayne take the snack and work his magic with it. They're going to get through this. He's not letting another friend die on his watch.
"You got it!"
Crichton heads over to the poolside bar and rummages around until he finds the big glass and all the different flavors. He's gotten good at mixing drinks lately. He comes back with it full to the rim, sporting two curly straws. He sets it down at the edge of the pool and then lays down on his stomach next to it with his chin propped on one hand. He reaches for a slice of cheese with his other.
The curly straws are a nice touch. Gotta get that whimsy in.
Wayne leans back with his weight on his hand, leaning to take a long sip from the bowl. In spite of everything, he definitely is starting to feel better now. Maybe not emotionally, but physically. He's still soft to the touch, but it's becoming less problematic as he tales the time to rest and be with his friend.
One hand is carefully building a sandwich out of crackers, cheese and cured meats, a little tower held between thumb and forefinger that he considers, then raises as he thinks about what to say.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2023-07-15 06:14 pm (UTC)"I. I know. I know," he says quietly. He has full faith that Crichton would do his best to try and keep him from losing his shape entirely. "'m sorry. I just... This sucks." He's repeating himself as the ability to convey nuanced thought on the subject abandons him.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-17 04:07 am (UTC)"You're one of my best friends in the entire world and I'm telling you right now that you'll have my support, but I need to know what's going on with your skin right now."
cw: suicide/suicidal ideation
Date: 2023-07-17 09:27 pm (UTC)Sitting on the edge of his seat, Wayne looks down at the lightly deformed flesh of his hands, the creases at his knuckles weirdly, dramatically wedged.
"It's called autotoxicity. It's- when our bodies build up enough of a specific chemical cocktail it begins to destroy us from the inside. I don't know what your words for the neuropeptide signal complex would be, but it starts happening when I haven't had time to recover from extreme stress. It hurts," he murmurs, rubbing his fingers across the worse of the indents in his skin. "I've died like this before. It's. Kind of a defense mechanism. If I couldn't run from a fight, I'd just press on that hormone release until I died. It was better than staying in a hopeless fight."
cw: suicide/suicidal ideation
Date: 2023-07-19 06:44 pm (UTC)When Wayne explains that it hurts, and that it's killed him before, Crichton leaves aside all the technical thinking and focusses on gently embracing his friend. Finding out that Wayne has used this to kill himself and escape a fight tears at his heart. But he also remembers that it's different for Waynes, they don't stay dead the same way a human would. So he takes a breath and makes an effort to separate his human ideals out of it.
"I hate that this happens to you man. I hate to think of you suffering so much that ending it is a better option. But, I get it." He tips his forehead against Wayne's. "Is that what you need right now? Or... can I stop this some way?"
no subject
Date: 2023-07-20 01:31 am (UTC)The thought he was stronger than this.
Wayne's hands rub across one another, in a self-soothing motion that starts to smooth out some of the more dramatic indenting that would inevitably be pressed right back into them. He wishes he'd put his gloves on, if only because then he wouldn't be as focused on what they must look like to others right now.
"Uh...my options are kinda..." Not great. "Either I die, or I wait. I need to take a bath, sleep, eat something..." It's all simple self-care stuff to most folks, but to him it's of vital importance. Not exactly something that someone else can help him with unless they're going out of their way to make those things happen, and he doesn't really want to make someone else do any of that anyway.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-20 01:39 am (UTC)"Do you need it in that order?" Wayne doesn't have to ask, and Crichton isn't inclined to take no for an answer. He'll carry Wayne there on his back if he has to. "I'll get you to the hot tub for a long soak. You can stay there while I grab food. You can sleep in there, too, if you want, I'll stand watch to make sure no one bugs you."
no subject
Date: 2023-07-20 03:07 am (UTC)"No, just...I need to take the time. I can get there," he replies quietly. He can still walk, even if his body aches with it. Letting his friend carry him would be a bridge too far.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-22 01:45 am (UTC)"I'm going with you. And, before you try and say I don't have to let me just remind you that you would do the same for me. You have done the same for me. And I got nothing else to do today, anyway."
no subject
Date: 2023-07-22 06:12 am (UTC)"...thanks," is all he ends up saying, and he leans to let Crichton support him in the trip up to the hot tubs. At least it seems like they're deserted for now, and he would give very little thought to shrugging off the layer of his jumpsuit and boots to settle into the water up to his eyes.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-23 04:19 am (UTC)He takes it slow, letting Wayne lean on him as much as he needs. Out of habit, he turns as Wayne strips, to give him some privacy until he's in the water.
"Can you... breathe like that?"
no subject
Date: 2023-07-23 05:17 am (UTC)The question prompts him to push himself up just enough to be able to speak.
"Don't need to."
no subject
Date: 2023-07-23 10:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-07-24 04:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-07-24 08:30 pm (UTC)"I'll get some cheese and crackers with a side of fruit. We can nibble on that slowly." Yes, we. He's not leaving Wayne alone for longer than it takes to go get a plate of snacks.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-25 12:39 pm (UTC)He merely nods as he sinks himself further down into the water until it's only his eyes visible again, and watches for a long moment until Crichton is out of sight. Then, he dips down further until only the tops of his horns are visible above the water line. Probably not doing a great job at not being worrying, but the muffling effect of the water is comforting. It makes everything quiet. It hurts less. He can still hear, though everything sounds far away, and that's honestly better for him at the moment.
He'd pop back up when Crichton returns with the promised snacks.
no subject
Date: 2023-07-26 06:03 pm (UTC)Despite saying that, he takes his time. Wayne is safe in the water, starting the healing process, that gives Crichton a little time to come to terms with the news on his own. He really did like Gil. He was a no-nonsense stand-up dude, willing to go to bat for his friends but just as willing to talk things out rationally. He was the kind of guy Crichton would have enjoyed having a weekly beer with. They could have talked shop, swapped stories... Crichton would have loved to hear more about how he looked at the world.
"Why did you go but I'm still here?" Crichton asks the vast wall of cheese in front of him. As if Gil will somehow hear it or be able to answer? "I'll do what I can for Wayne... I promise."
He starts to gather up snack ingredients in earnest now, stuffing sleeves of crackers, cylinders of sausages, and wheels of cheese into a bag alongside dried fruits and olives. He lifts a knife and cutting board set to take with him, and snatches up a nice bundle of grapes on the vine before making his way to the exit.
"I got the goods," he announces once he emerges back on the pool deck. He drags over a lounge to spread his low-budget charcuterie board out on. "I'm gonna grab a drink from the tiki bar, you want one?"
no subject
Date: 2023-07-26 07:07 pm (UTC)He could not in good faith wish for Gil to come back. Not when he knows the man was just as unhappy here as most others were. But gods does he miss him already.
Crichton returns with a whole charcuterie board's worth of snacks from the fromagerie, and Wayne blinks at it as he hauls himself up onto the edge of the tub, letting the water run off of him for a moment then reaching for a banana chip. Rather than eating it, he grips it in his palm, then opens it back up and lets the fragments of fruit crumble into the air. It's not necessarily visible, but taking it does shore up his Flesh just a little bit.
"Uh...they have those big fishbowl drinks with all the flavors. Get two straws and we can both have some?"
no subject
Date: 2023-07-29 03:42 am (UTC)"You got it!"
Crichton heads over to the poolside bar and rummages around until he finds the big glass and all the different flavors. He's gotten good at mixing drinks lately. He comes back with it full to the rim, sporting two curly straws. He sets it down at the edge of the pool and then lays down on his stomach next to it with his chin propped on one hand. He reaches for a slice of cheese with his other.
"Wanna say a toast?"
no subject
Date: 2023-07-29 09:34 am (UTC)Wayne leans back with his weight on his hand, leaning to take a long sip from the bowl. In spite of everything, he definitely is starting to feel better now. Maybe not emotionally, but physically. He's still soft to the touch, but it's becoming less problematic as he tales the time to rest and be with his friend.
One hand is carefully building a sandwich out of crackers, cheese and cured meats, a little tower held between thumb and forefinger that he considers, then raises as he thinks about what to say.
"To the people that got out?"
good place to wrap?
Date: 2023-08-01 05:06 am (UTC)He motions with the cracker to Wayne and adds his own, "And, to the friends that keep us going."
o7
Date: 2023-08-01 04:30 pm (UTC)"To the friends that keep us going."