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Wherein Falcon rents a tux and looks inside himself a great deal.
I uh.
I guess I went and rented a tux.
Ugh.
-------
I swear, the instant that courthouse is functioning again you and I are going down there and we are going to get this over with. Okay? Okay.
-------
How many days had it been? How long? He couldn't keep track anymore.
There were only so many times one could flip through the television channels, or read the newspaper or doodle up blueprints or count the discolored patches on the ceiling. Two weeks and four days. It felt longer.
In those two weeks and four days, he had questioned everything from the existence of God and the meaning of life to what he should have for breakfast and whether it was even worth getting dressed. On the days where he decided it wasn't, he'd stay at home and lie on his back, spread-eagled on the unmade bed, letting his head fall to the side to better watch the way the dust particles moved so fluidly through the sun cutting in between the window blinds.
It was getting warmer. The city being rebuilt as spring arrived. Appropriate. Metaphorical, even.
Falcon tried to busy himself. Fill the day with small distractions that could provide relief from this incredible apathy and listlessness that had dominated his thinking for the past two weeks and four days. But when he really thought about it...the indifference and restlessness and general discontent...it had been going on for so much longer. Through his hours of observing the habits of dust particles and meticulous self-examination, the only conclusion he could possibly come to was that the past two months or so had been one gigantic clusterfuck. If he tried, he could find moments of genuine contentment, but they didn't last. Sooner or later, it would all give way to that same feeling of disappointment that came creeping up on him and never really left him alone.
He vaguely recalled the summer and how it segued into fall and finally the beginnings of winter. How for the first time in years, he had been...genuinely happy. At least he thought he'd been happy. Maybe he was? Now, as he watched the window blinds ripple gently in the temporary current of the oscillating fan, he wondered if any of it was real after all.
First there had been the fight at Christmas. Then the accident at the lake. The slow realization that things could never be the way he wanted them. Valentine's day. The war. The agonizing weeks of searching for Ionia. The humiliation of his ship hijacking itself, of all things. Those goddamn students doing...he didn't even want to think about what they did in his car. Giygas. All the confessions when it was over. Deleting the AI. The buzz about the stupid prom. A million things piling up and compounding on one another. Plans for the future. Plans for everyone but him. He'd faced down fear itself and lived and now he didn't know where to go or what to do. Everyone else seemed to know. He didn't. He didn't fit.
Falcon was stuck. He felt...that he wasn't taken seriously...that he was under-appreciated and pushed aside...by a lot of people. Not just the obvious. He was sure they didn't mean it...hell, he'd probably feel worse if Ollie started putting him before his family or the girls. People who really needed the attention and support. But that didn't stop him from feeling his inherent need to be a priority...if not the priority. He looked at everything he couldn't have...not that he necessarily wanted it...just the knowledge that even if he did want it, he couldn't have it...and he felt like it was eating him from the inside out. Watching the rest of the school find love and direction and a future...he couldn't stand it.
He had Ionia. That should have been enough. Through all his thinking and he'd come to the conclusion that she was the only one who was worth it. But now every day seemed to be a cycle of thrusting himself into distraction to temporarily alleviate whatever he was suffering from...and then it was all back to the same. He didn't even know what he wanted anymore. A part of him felt he didn't deserve her. Still, he was positive that if it wasn't for her, he'd have packed up and left the school ages ago. At least, that's what he told himself. As much as he despised the thought of normality, and as much as the academy seemed to lack it, the life of a teacher was certainly more regular than he was used to and he found it was sucking him in, weighing him down and threatening to make him settle. Everything he didn't want. Or at least, he thought he didn't want it.
Slowly, he leaned over and checked the clock, finding sudden determination to get up from the bed and shuffle into the kitchen. Not bothering to check if the late afternoon sun was warm enough, he took a beer from the fridge and pushed open the sliding glass door to the small balcony of his apartment. The platform was completely devoid of furniture, mostly because he never used the thing, so for now he was content to lean on the railing and drink and do some introspection. Or something. Whatever it was, he hated it, as inevitable as it seemed nowadays.
He was going to be thirty-eight in less than two weeks. He was going to graduation, even though he had told himself he wouldn't. Just another fleeting distraction. Something to do.
Standing out on the balcony his mind wandered to dozens upon dozens of temporary solutions but nothing that seemed even remotely final or satisfying for more than a short duration. He could take a weekend off with friends, he could go to space, he could drink himself into oblivion but none of it could last. He wanted so many things he couldn't begin to pinpoint them, and no matter what he did, it always seemed as though he ended where he started.
Was it too much to ask for something to break the cycle? No one could be like this...so unbelievably bitter and discontent and alone...forever.
Right?
((OOC: Lalala, pimpin the feedback post doop doop.))
I guess I went and rented a tux.
Ugh.
-------
I swear, the instant that courthouse is functioning again you and I are going down there and we are going to get this over with. Okay? Okay.
-------
How many days had it been? How long? He couldn't keep track anymore.
There were only so many times one could flip through the television channels, or read the newspaper or doodle up blueprints or count the discolored patches on the ceiling. Two weeks and four days. It felt longer.
In those two weeks and four days, he had questioned everything from the existence of God and the meaning of life to what he should have for breakfast and whether it was even worth getting dressed. On the days where he decided it wasn't, he'd stay at home and lie on his back, spread-eagled on the unmade bed, letting his head fall to the side to better watch the way the dust particles moved so fluidly through the sun cutting in between the window blinds.
It was getting warmer. The city being rebuilt as spring arrived. Appropriate. Metaphorical, even.
Falcon tried to busy himself. Fill the day with small distractions that could provide relief from this incredible apathy and listlessness that had dominated his thinking for the past two weeks and four days. But when he really thought about it...the indifference and restlessness and general discontent...it had been going on for so much longer. Through his hours of observing the habits of dust particles and meticulous self-examination, the only conclusion he could possibly come to was that the past two months or so had been one gigantic clusterfuck. If he tried, he could find moments of genuine contentment, but they didn't last. Sooner or later, it would all give way to that same feeling of disappointment that came creeping up on him and never really left him alone.
He vaguely recalled the summer and how it segued into fall and finally the beginnings of winter. How for the first time in years, he had been...genuinely happy. At least he thought he'd been happy. Maybe he was? Now, as he watched the window blinds ripple gently in the temporary current of the oscillating fan, he wondered if any of it was real after all.
First there had been the fight at Christmas. Then the accident at the lake. The slow realization that things could never be the way he wanted them. Valentine's day. The war. The agonizing weeks of searching for Ionia. The humiliation of his ship hijacking itself, of all things. Those goddamn students doing...he didn't even want to think about what they did in his car. Giygas. All the confessions when it was over. Deleting the AI. The buzz about the stupid prom. A million things piling up and compounding on one another. Plans for the future. Plans for everyone but him. He'd faced down fear itself and lived and now he didn't know where to go or what to do. Everyone else seemed to know. He didn't. He didn't fit.
Falcon was stuck. He felt...that he wasn't taken seriously...that he was under-appreciated and pushed aside...by a lot of people. Not just the obvious. He was sure they didn't mean it...hell, he'd probably feel worse if Ollie started putting him before his family or the girls. People who really needed the attention and support. But that didn't stop him from feeling his inherent need to be a priority...if not the priority. He looked at everything he couldn't have...not that he necessarily wanted it...just the knowledge that even if he did want it, he couldn't have it...and he felt like it was eating him from the inside out. Watching the rest of the school find love and direction and a future...he couldn't stand it.
He had Ionia. That should have been enough. Through all his thinking and he'd come to the conclusion that she was the only one who was worth it. But now every day seemed to be a cycle of thrusting himself into distraction to temporarily alleviate whatever he was suffering from...and then it was all back to the same. He didn't even know what he wanted anymore. A part of him felt he didn't deserve her. Still, he was positive that if it wasn't for her, he'd have packed up and left the school ages ago. At least, that's what he told himself. As much as he despised the thought of normality, and as much as the academy seemed to lack it, the life of a teacher was certainly more regular than he was used to and he found it was sucking him in, weighing him down and threatening to make him settle. Everything he didn't want. Or at least, he thought he didn't want it.
Slowly, he leaned over and checked the clock, finding sudden determination to get up from the bed and shuffle into the kitchen. Not bothering to check if the late afternoon sun was warm enough, he took a beer from the fridge and pushed open the sliding glass door to the small balcony of his apartment. The platform was completely devoid of furniture, mostly because he never used the thing, so for now he was content to lean on the railing and drink and do some introspection. Or something. Whatever it was, he hated it, as inevitable as it seemed nowadays.
He was going to be thirty-eight in less than two weeks. He was going to graduation, even though he had told himself he wouldn't. Just another fleeting distraction. Something to do.
Standing out on the balcony his mind wandered to dozens upon dozens of temporary solutions but nothing that seemed even remotely final or satisfying for more than a short duration. He could take a weekend off with friends, he could go to space, he could drink himself into oblivion but none of it could last. He wanted so many things he couldn't begin to pinpoint them, and no matter what he did, it always seemed as though he ended where he started.
Was it too much to ask for something to break the cycle? No one could be like this...so unbelievably bitter and discontent and alone...forever.
Right?
((OOC: Lalala, pimpin the feedback post doop doop.))
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