[And suddenly, the emptiness that had struck and cratered him once he was done distracting himself with the stranger he had picked up seems only to widen. He stares down at the message and for a long moment debates how to answer. It is easy to forget that the Asher he is speaking to is in some respects months behind him. This Asher never met Oliver in Philadelphia, and so must have only met him in his adventures out here, a stranger from the same world. A stranger who should be a friend.
This Asher doesn't know any better, but his question stings all the same.]
Oliver and I broke up a few weeks before I ended up here
wait so HE'S the it boi whose ass you've been tappin this whole time?
[The shock hits him all at once like an unwanted surge of electricity, the missing links to some of the mystery surrounding Oliver's oddly familiar behavior suddenly uncovered. Asher's memory flits back to a vague conversation he once had with the other, older man over the network, something that had made him suspect this.
Still, somehow between now and then, he had forgotten all about it.]
you cheated on him, you
[But that was a year ago.
Connor says Oliver and I, and then three weeks ago, so somehow their relationship had survived those rather rocky beginnings. What, then, could possibly be even worse?]
maybe. I dunno. he seems PRETTY set in his decision to just be friends. said he needs space so he can figure out some stuff on his own. or whatever.
but you don't want to hear about all my boy drama.
[Which he adds out of some sense of self-preservation, recoiling from opening himself too widely. Although he considers him a friend now, he is not in the habit of having heart-to-heart talks with Asher.]
[Asher rejects the opportunity to walk away from the conversation, to go back to joking around. And so Connor must follow through.
Alone in the darkness of the room which still does not feel like his own, he feels as small as the stars look in the night sky. Up there they seem so remote and alone, and cold as if they should take on the qualities of the air in which they hang. At night one can forget that the stars burn hot and bright and gather around them the planets of distant solar systems.
It is for this intense loneliness that he will have a hard time stopping once he starts.]
it just sucks. I can tell he still has feelings for me but he just refuses to act on them because he thinks it's "for the best." I miss him. when he's right in front of me I miss him because it's just not the same.
[At the very bottom of a long day, he is too worn down to put out barbs. Asher is not mistaken to read this as a cry for help: of everyone here, he trusts only Asher and Oliver himself, and every time he had appealed to the latter with his raw mess of a heart, he was rejected. He has no one else to turn to.]
it's complicated.
I was trying to transfer to Stanford, just to get out of Philly. Ollie didn't want to leave but I wouldn't listen to him, so he deleted my acceptance email.
I found out about it later and I forgave him, but then he flipped out on me saying I'm supposed to be mad at him. he was upset that he lied to me and didn't want to do it anymore.
so I guess breaking up was his way of fixing that.
[Because this conversation is just sooooo healthy, such a healthy conversation (and because Connor's location can be conveniently located on the Magitek), Asher feels that it is enough of an emergency to just physically show up right at the other law student's door.
Unfortunately, he also happens to be wearing this. When Connor opens the door following a series of obnoxiously loud tapping sounds, he will happen upon an Asher who has his dinosaur claws hands neatly folded over his chest.]
[When Asher's knuckles start raining down on his door, Connor jolts upright in bed. Already having a strong suspicion as to who could be visiting him at this hour, he throws his legs over the edge of the bed, flicks the lamp on, and hauls himself over to the door. Before he opens it, he scrubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands, but this does nothing to shatter the sheen made by incipient tears, and neither will the funny look he gives Asher.]
Dude, what the hell? It's three in the morning.
[He isn't exactly dressed for company, in nothing but his underwear and a black tank top. It's hard to tell if his hair is such a mess because he had been trying to sleep, or because a few hours prior he had been tumbling around under the sheets with another man.]
And please don't tell me Jin actually lets you bone him while you're wearing that.
Dude, could you quit it with the sassy gay bro quips, for just a minute?
[Meaning that his choice of attire isn't important right now. It was either this or his underwear- Every other comfortable outfit he owns is in the wash. There was his training outfit, but... That's hella tight, homie.
The broad-shouldered delinquent barges into Connor's room like he has every right to be there. Despite their complete lack of any tangible connection back home, Asher seems to have no problem invading Connor Walsh's personal space, even though it's far from an ideal hour.]
[Before his brain can catch up with what is happening, he finds himself stepping back to allow Asher to blow past him. Connor then taps the door shut before following him with his features twisted into the grumpiest look he can muster.]
Talk about what? What are you freaking out for?
[Because his cramped room lacks seating, offering only his bed for one to rest their booty on, he remains standing with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.]
[He says nothing initially, pausing only to bend his head downwards and shake it from side to side.
It should be obvious.]
You can't be serious.
[Following another frustrated sigh-]
This guy hacked into your email and deleted an official document! That's, like, textbook crazy ex-girlfriend shit.
Boyfriend shit. Whatever. And he wasn't even your ex at the time!
[Something about this is strange. Asher can't say he ever imagined Connor Walsh to be played like a chump, and especially not by a seemingly meek IT guy.]
[As he listens while Asher lectures him on his own relationship, a subject that Asher knows nothing about, frustration builds inside of him like a fire whose smoke cannot find a chimney through which to escape, until finally, he throws up his hands.]
Because none of that mattered!
[And he claps his hands to his forehead, tilting his head back to groan up at the ceiling.]
Ohhh my god. I didn't care about going to Stanford, I only wanted to keep Oliver safe. Because I care about him - or does that not matter to you? Because it sure as hell doesn't seem to matter to him.
[Fire brims within him too; metaphorical smoke practically blowing out of his ears.
The doughier of the two is frustrated for different reasons. As much as they supposedly hated each other, Connor Walsh had been the man, the epitome of cool. He was a take no prisoners type of dude, the kind of person Asher had been groomed to be but fallen short of becoming.
How had the man he admired so damn much become such a loser?]
Safe?
[Light brows press together, his voice softening slightly.]
Wait, what? Slow down.
[Asher is left to his own devices for a moment, which makes him think. He knows nothing of Sam's death just yet, only left with his own sob story to draw conclusions from.]
[As he says this, he wonders if it was only Frank who knew the location of his car, inside of which rode Sam's body. Whole at first, except for the crater in his head, and then in pieces. He wonders if that leverage fled Annalise's grasp when Frank did.
His hands slide and drop from his forehead, leaving tufts of hair to stand at odd angles. How different he seems when he no longer hides behind the disguise of his manicured appearance. He wears about him a look of exhaustion that extends beyond just the bags hanging beneath his eyes and originates from somewhere much deeper than the present late hour.]
Annalise was working this case, and things got a little crazy... A possible suspect broke into our apartment, mine and Oliver's, and he tried blackmailing all of us. He wasn't the one who did it, but--
[He breaks off, because he can't explain to Asher all the things that made him want to run. All the nooses waiting to cinch around his throat. Suddenly, he cannot meet Asher's eyes. Up until now he had been gesturing as he spoke, but now his hand falls lamely to his side.]
[Asher finally sits down atop of Connor's bed, doing his best to keep at a safe distance. Despite the ridiculous outfit, he's completely serious about being here, even though he knows that perhaps it isn't the best idea. The nervous man standing just a few inches away from him is not someone he would describe as kind, or giving, or thoughtful, but even so, he is a friend in need. And right now, it doesn't seem like Connor really has any other friends.
At the mention of a break-in, a sigh leaves his lips. He wishes that the story was harder for him to believe, but it really isn't. They may have been pulled from different points in time, but they will always have one thing in common- Annalise Keating.]
But you're not there anymore.
["Be careful what you wish for."
They are words he's heard time and time again, although repeating them in this instance won't do them any good.]
[With the realization that he was finally out of that house, that he would live his life in the looming shadow of Annalise Keating no longer, had come a slow unfurling feeling of relief. It had come as a stranger to him, who is so burdened by worries that the weight has become a part of him. But even so, he shakes his head in plain rejection of Asher's assertion.]
I'm just trapped somewhere else. And I can't do crap to make sure Oliver's safe.
[His shoulders rise up in a shrug and he hugs himself, folding himself smaller. He may be free of Annalise's influence, but he has no more control over his life. His heart is governed still by helplessness.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[does this mean that asher millstone is, in some way, a lil freakier than coner walsh
maybe he's just had more time to adjust]
sooooo, since u were out n about sluttin it up at the partaaay, i'm guessin ur single now?
weren't u seein that hacker guy a lil while ago? what happened, he 👻 on ya, or wut? lol
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This Asher doesn't know any better, but his question stings all the same.]
Oliver and I broke up a few weeks before I ended up here
he dumped me actually
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[The shock hits him all at once like an unwanted surge of electricity, the missing links to some of the mystery surrounding Oliver's oddly familiar behavior suddenly uncovered. Asher's memory flits back to a vague conversation he once had with the other, older man over the network, something that had made him suspect this.
Still, somehow between now and then, he had forgotten all about it.]
you cheated on him, you
[But that was a year ago.
Connor says Oliver and I, and then three weeks ago, so somehow their relationship had survived those rather rocky beginnings. What, then, could possibly be even worse?]
are you two still talking?
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whatever, it doesn't matter anymore. it sucks and it's totally stupid but we're done.
[Nothing between them feels done. It is raw and messy and frayed around the edges, and seeing him reopens every wound he inflicted.]
we're talking but pretty much all our conversations that don't end in an argument just feel awkward.
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For once.]
well, if you're still talkin, then
it's not over yet, right?
[If he were to say those words out loud, they'd come off quieter.
Gentler than the ones that had come before.]
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but you don't want to hear about all my boy drama.
[Which he adds out of some sense of self-preservation, recoiling from opening himself too widely. Although he considers him a friend now, he is not in the habit of having heart-to-heart talks with Asher.]
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[The question is innocent, surprisingly.
Asher knows a thing or two about pretending to be okay despite the obvious.]
we're friends, right?
[Maybe he shouldn't have asked that.
Silently, he braces himself for another one of Connor Walsh's rude tirades.]
it's okay, dude
we can talk, especially if you need to
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[Asher rejects the opportunity to walk away from the conversation, to go back to joking around. And so Connor must follow through.
Alone in the darkness of the room which still does not feel like his own, he feels as small as the stars look in the night sky. Up there they seem so remote and alone, and cold as if they should take on the qualities of the air in which they hang. At night one can forget that the stars burn hot and bright and gather around them the planets of distant solar systems.
It is for this intense loneliness that he will have a hard time stopping once he starts.]
it just sucks. I can tell he still has feelings for me but he just refuses to act on them because he thinks it's "for the best." I miss him. when he's right in front of me I miss him because it's just not the same.
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Asher's heart latches on to this pitiful display of friendship, which honestly reads more like a pathetic cry for help, but hey. He'll take it.
Connor's in luck, though. He's had time to practice being a better friend.]
did he ever tell you why?
why he thinks it's for the best, i mean
[If Oliver didn't end things with Connor after being cheated on or exposed like that, why would he end them then?
What happened?]
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it's complicated.
I was trying to transfer to Stanford, just to get out of Philly. Ollie didn't want to leave but I wouldn't listen to him, so he deleted my acceptance email.
I found out about it later and I forgave him, but then he flipped out on me saying I'm supposed to be mad at him. he was upset that he lied to me and didn't want to do it anymore.
so I guess breaking up was his way of fixing that.
1/?
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4/4
BRUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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it's not a huge deal. being with him is way more important to me than going to some stupid school in California. so I forgave him.
[Because that's healthy.]
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Unfortunately, he also happens to be wearing this. When Connor opens the door following a series of obnoxiously loud tapping sounds, he will happen upon an Asher who has his
dinosaur clawshands neatly folded over his chest.]no subject
Dude, what the hell? It's three in the morning.
[He isn't exactly dressed for company, in nothing but his underwear and a black tank top. It's hard to tell if his hair is such a mess because he had been trying to sleep, or because a few hours prior he had been tumbling around under the sheets with another man.]
And please don't tell me Jin actually lets you bone him while you're wearing that.
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[Meaning that his choice of attire isn't important right now. It was either this or his underwear- Every other comfortable outfit he owns is in the wash. There was his training outfit, but... That's hella tight, homie.
The broad-shouldered delinquent barges into Connor's room like he has every right to be there. Despite their complete lack of any tangible connection back home, Asher seems to have no problem invading Connor Walsh's personal space, even though it's far from an ideal hour.]
We need to talk.
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Talk about what? What are you freaking out for?
[Because his cramped room lacks seating, offering only his bed for one to rest their booty on, he remains standing with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.]
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It should be obvious.]
You can't be serious.
[Following another frustrated sigh-]
This guy hacked into your email and deleted an official document! That's, like, textbook crazy ex-girlfriend shit.
Boyfriend shit. Whatever. And he wasn't even your ex at the time!
[Something about this is strange. Asher can't say he ever imagined Connor Walsh to be played like a chump, and especially not by a seemingly meek IT guy.]
How were you not the one who ended it?
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Because none of that mattered!
[And he claps his hands to his forehead, tilting his head back to groan up at the ceiling.]
Ohhh my god. I didn't care about going to Stanford, I only wanted to keep Oliver safe. Because I care about him - or does that not matter to you? Because it sure as hell doesn't seem to matter to him.
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The doughier of the two is frustrated for different reasons. As much as they supposedly hated each other, Connor Walsh had been the man, the epitome of cool. He was a take no prisoners type of dude, the kind of person Asher had been groomed to be but fallen short of becoming.
How had the man he admired so damn much become such a loser?]
Safe?
[Light brows press together, his voice softening slightly.]
Wait, what? Slow down.
[Asher is left to his own devices for a moment, which makes him think. He knows nothing of Sam's death just yet, only left with his own sob story to draw conclusions from.]
Is Annalise blackmailing you, or...?
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[As he says this, he wonders if it was only Frank who knew the location of his car, inside of which rode Sam's body. Whole at first, except for the crater in his head, and then in pieces. He wonders if that leverage fled Annalise's grasp when Frank did.
His hands slide and drop from his forehead, leaving tufts of hair to stand at odd angles. How different he seems when he no longer hides behind the disguise of his manicured appearance. He wears about him a look of exhaustion that extends beyond just the bags hanging beneath his eyes and originates from somewhere much deeper than the present late hour.]
Annalise was working this case, and things got a little crazy... A possible suspect broke into our apartment, mine and Oliver's, and he tried blackmailing all of us. He wasn't the one who did it, but--
[He breaks off, because he can't explain to Asher all the things that made him want to run. All the nooses waiting to cinch around his throat. Suddenly, he cannot meet Asher's eyes. Up until now he had been gesturing as he spoke, but now his hand falls lamely to his side.]
It just...felt like it was time to go.
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At the mention of a break-in, a sigh leaves his lips. He wishes that the story was harder for him to believe, but it really isn't. They may have been pulled from different points in time, but they will always have one thing in common- Annalise Keating.]
But you're not there anymore.
["Be careful what you wish for."
They are words he's heard time and time again, although repeating them in this instance won't do them any good.]
You're free, dude. You and O-man both.
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I'm just trapped somewhere else. And I can't do crap to make sure Oliver's safe.
[His shoulders rise up in a shrug and he hugs himself, folding himself smaller. He may be free of Annalise's influence, but he has no more control over his life. His heart is governed still by helplessness.]
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cw: slight body image/dysmorphia mention?
i'm sorry
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sorry for the icon repeat fam
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