laytondressing | 'Cause Descole's a Creative Genius

I think we're both a little vain.

[He smiles at her after she kisses him and laughs a little.]

Sorry, I'm not the best kisser. At least, so I've heard from some sources. You, on the otherhand, seemed to have mastered that skill. I guess its only fitting. One of us is goof at kissing, the other is good at fucking.

[He laughs at his own profanities and shakes his head. Another sip of his drink eggs him on to hold her again, which he does thoughtfully.]

I think you're a perfectly good kisser. You're pretty, you're good at kissing, and now you say you're good in bed too? You have everything, double, you're so lucky.

[Curling back up close to him, Descole steals his drink again to down the last of it.]

I used to be good at fucking. Layton ruined that, I s'pose. Maybe I'll work it out again eventually. I'd like to.

Aw, thanks, double.

[Patting her head lightly he shakes his.]

Don't worry it'll come back. My stepfather thought he'd destroy my sex life...well no. I have it all worked out finally and I can fuck whoever I want...

...Well except girls...I'm still not good at fucking girls.

[Oh god, what was he saying? The alcohol was surely getting to him. He hated when this happened, but hate it or not, he drank anyway.]

Mmm... I bet you are, really. I mean, you're good at kissing even though you say you're not.

[Descole tilts her head into his touch a little more. It's weird, to be able to let someone close like this after so long, and up until now she'd never realised how much she missed it. She knows that she might not be so open when she's sober, even with him. That everything might still be too much without the buzz. So she's trying to make the most of it now, resting her head on his chest now with a slight sigh.]

...you're warm, double.

Hm, thanks.

[He sighs and shakes his head. He knows he'll never be this open to anyone sober either. He sighs downwards and shakes his head.]

You think? I'm usually really cold. My doctor says it's bad insulation. You're warm though. I think you're warm, thanks for that.

[He takes another sip of his drink and snickers.]

I'm tired. Are you tired? Jeez, alcohol makes me tired.

M'always tired, double. I don't really sleep.

[Which is true. She sleeps better since she wound up here, but she's still not getting the amount she needs, and Descole knows it. If she ever feels safe, she thinks she'll end up having to go into hibernation or some-such to actually make up for how little she sleeps.]

I can't tell if the alcohol makes it worse. Maybe. But it lets me... be like this, too. And I wish I could be like this more. So if it makes me more tired then I don't mind that in return for being able to... get close like this.

Being close to someone like this... it feels warm. Did I say that already? I don't want to move, double. I don't think I can stand up anyway.

[Keeping track of her thoughts is too much hard work, right now. Everything feels warm and comfortable, and Descole hasn't felt this relaxed in a long time. Certainly not the last time that she got drunk.]

[Descole nods in agreement. He hates to think about how long it had been since he'd felt so comfortable. Sure he had a home and people he cared about, but no one he felt comfortable with. Leave it to his double to feel that way.]

I don't think I can stand either. I don't want to move also. I like this. I like you. You're like me, only nicer.

I always thought if I were to meet myself, I'd hate that jackass. Guess not.

Well... I s'pose I had to like someobody, and I hate everyone else, so it makes sense for me to like you so much...

[Descole makes a quiet noise in the back of her throat at that, trying to curl into a tighter ball against her double.]

I feel... a little too hot still. But...

[But taking off any more clothes would mean that he'd see the worst of the scars, and Descole is very conscious of them again now.]

[Descole shakes his head and sighs.]

You can take off more layers. I don't mind. Just I need to remember its not an invite to sex. No I'm just kidding, I wouldn't do that to you.

[He finishes off his glass again and laughs.]

Our life, double. Our life.

[After a moment's hesitation, Descole nods, though her hands shake a little as she unbuttons her shirt and pulls it off. She's kind of a mess underneath it, though her front isn't as bad as her back - except for her chest. Even with her bra in place, the tops of the letters carved there are still visible. Glancing down, she shudders at the sight of them, curling herself up against her double again so that the scars are hidden a little more.]

I. He... that was the worst of what Layton did. Because... the rest I can forget, even. I can make excuses, but--

[She cuts herself off, shaking her head and burying her face in his chest.]

[Descole holds her close as she tries to hide from her own body.]

You're still more beautiful than these scars.

[Before he says anything more, he takes his shirt off quickly, letting her keep close to him, revealing his scars. Just like her, there are many, and on his arms are the faint words saying "ugly" and "fat" and a brighter ans slightly fresher one saying "queer". He sighs as hw let's her see them.]

Just...know you're not alone. I know what it's like. M'here.

[Descole lifts her head a little, opening her eye again to stare at her double's scars. She doesn't even know how to respond to that. So she just wraps her arms around him tighter and presses her face to his shoulder.]

Now I definitely wish you luck in killing the man who did this to you.

[Falling silent, she shuts her eye and sighs quietly.]

Things like that... your scars, and my scars... things like that are why I hate people, double. Because I feel like anyone could do that to me now. I mean... it was Layton who did it to me. And I feel like... if Layton could do that, then... He was always so calm. No matter what I did. Hell, he was calm even as he carved me up.

But... I'd always trusted him, before. If I had nothing else constant in my life, even when I couldn't remember anything else, Layton would be there. And no matter what I did, he'd be calm. He'd be constant. So for him to do that to me... I thought that if he could do that, then I must be so hateful. That if he'd been pushed into losing that calm long enough to decide to do what he did... then I must be so hateful as a person that there was nothing to stop anyone else from hurting me like that.

[Descole nods at her story, hating that he agrees with her.]

You know, these scars don't have to define you, y'know? Don't get me wrong, I think you should kill him, but they aren't you, y'know.

Shit, what am I talking about? I'm so drunk.

[He snickers lightly and sighs.]

But don't worry about me double. I promise, I'll kill that man before he kills me. Thanks for the luck though.

[She makes a quiet noise of agreement in the back of her throat and bites her lip.]

Mmm. I understand what you mean. You're the first person that... I feel like I've understood like this. Like I've connected properly. I mean... perhaps there were others, but in the time I can remember, the only other person--

[Cutting herself off, Descole pulls back from him abruptly. The only other person was Layton, she'd been about to say. And now she's back in exactly the same position she was with Don Paulo. All she can think of is Layton, what he did to her. Shuddering, she curls in on herself, hugging her knees tight to her chest.]

M'sorry. Sorry, double. I just-- I'm okay. I'll be okay. I'm so sorry, double. I just...

[Trailing off, she lets out a massive sob, burying her face in her knees.]

[Descole looks at her in shock a moment and curls his knees up to his chest. He remembers his brother walking in after his stepfather beat him. Simon would cry for him, not knowing what to do. And Descole could only sit and watch.]

[But this time was different. He was looking after himself. Or herself. Either way, he was comforting some one with her own problems. Seeing her cry the same way he would when he was alone, made him tear up.]

[No, he would remain strong.]

I-It's okay...I'm sorry...d-don't cry. You're gonna make me cry.

[He moved closer to her and placed his hand on her should gently, trying not to startle her.]

[She flinches away at the touch, but she tries to muffle the next sob against her knees, pulls her arms tighter around her legs and tries to hide her face behind them.]

I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry--

[It's just like a mantra, the words don't even sound like words in her head. All she can register is that she doesn't want him to cry, she doesn't want to be the one who does that to him. Like she was the one who made Layton do what he did to her. Because it had to be her, didn't it? Layton was Layton, he never would have decided to do something like that if she hadn't been such an awful person. It must have been against his whole gentlemanly thing, mustn't it? She'd done that. It'd been her fault, she'd pushed him into it. She'd done everything, she'd fucked with him with her plans and she'd fucked with him literally, and she'd been the one person awful enough that he'd snapped.

And now she's going to make her double cry, and right now that feels like an even worse mistake. Because she's awful, and he shouldn't care, should he? Nobody else ever has. He shouldn't care, but he does, and she's awful enough that she's going to make him cry, even though he's the one person who cares about her. Trying to bite back another sob, Descole resorts to biting down on her arm, shaking as she tries to muffle the sound. Once it passes, she lifts her head just slightly, though she keeps her eye clamped shut and doesn't look at him.]

Double. Please-- make it stop, double...

[Trying to calm her down he sighs worried. What can he do? He wants to make it stop for her, but what can he do?]

[Impulsively, he grabs her hand and starts singing quietly and gently.]

La t'aime du narciesse e'sausse. Dirait dirait on, dirait on, dirait on...

[The grip on her hand makes Descole go rigid, but she forces herself not to pull away. It takes enough concentration just to keep herself still like that, just to stop herself from screaming, that she's almost not able to remember everything right now. Her mind is screaming to pull away from the touch, to run away and hide until her double gives up and leaves her alone, but at least ignoring that and telling herself over and over that she can trust him means that she's not actually thinking about the memories that prompted this whole thing.

Eventually, she starts to relax, shifting closer inch by inch. She practically collapses against her double once she's close enough, holding onto his hand for dear life and bawling into his chest. She doesn't even care right now that she's embarrassing herself. Once she's calmed down she'll probably be mortified, but right now she can't even register that. All she knows is that everything hurts, that she's scared, just like she always is, and that she's not cried like this since it happened. She's cried, but she hasn't cried properly, she hasn't cried it out with no care for who could see her, because up until now she's never felt safe enough to let down her guard like that. To trust someone else to look after her while she gives into it.]

Oh god, double. Please. Don't go. Stay here, okay? I need you.

[As Descole keeps singing in french, and holding her as affectionately but gentle as he can, he remembers his past. He doesn't remember though, when the last time it was that he cried about his stepfather. Oh so bad he wanted to cry in someone's arms without being judged, but he can't help but judge himself in the process. Crying wouldn't help him, because he never let it.]

[Finishing off his song, he began to stroke her hair, and run his fingers through it, like a certain someone he knew would do. He hoped that would help.]

I'm not going anywhere. We're both stuck remember? And besides, to leave myself like this, double, wouldn't help either of us, would it?

And we're still gonna be stuck.

[The sober did kick in, but not all the way, obviously.]

[Managing to relax enough that she's just breathing raggedly and only letting out the occasional small sob, Descole tries to curl herself into a ball against her double again. She lets out a great, shuddering yawn after a few moments, eye sliding shut.]

Mmmph... I'm sorry about this, double. That was... oh god, you must think I'm such an idiot. M'sorry.

But-- thank you for staying. Like that. I mean... I know you can't leave this place but you could have left me and-- ...just... thank you for not doing that.

[Descole smiles and nods.]

No problem. Don't you worry. I'd never leave you like that.

I know how it gets. It gets unbearable. The weight of it...gets unbearable. I've always been that way too. I just...I just never let it out...like that.

I-I... I've never let it out like that before, either. I was always... too scared to.

I guess it's having you here. Or the alcohol.

Pfft. It's probably both.

[He began running his fingers through his hair.]

Someone I love does this for me when I'm upset. They touch my hair. It usually works. Is it too scary for you, or is it working?

Mmn... it's okay. I can cope with it. It's nice.

[Someone that he loves... Descole curls up a little tighter against him, reaching up to scrub her arm over her eye. She doesn't even remember what loving someone else feels like, any more.]

...you're lucky, double.

[Descole makes a sarcastic noise.]

Oh am I? What makes you say that?

[He continues stroking her hair and starts to hum.]

'Cause Descole's a Creative Genius

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