laytondressing | (no subject)

You realize they make medication for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder?

[Says the unhealthily skinny, (and probably slightly OCD himself) Descole staring at his double, leaning against the door way.]

I should know. I've taken everything. What are you doing?

I decided I should try to spend more than a few hours at a time sober and my room agreed with me. God. Nobody told me alcohol was such an effective coping mechanism or I'd have resorted to it earlier.

[She doesn't look up as she's talking, though, still just focussing on scrubbing at the spot that she had clean about ten minutes ago.]

This is about the only thing I can bring myself to do.

I...I suppose that's better than drinking yourself into a stupor.

[He looked down at his hand and saw a bundle of scars, just to remind himself of his own obsession. It started with cleaning, his stepfather made him clean, then he had to dance, then he had to starve, then he had to endure the hurt.]

[No, he couldn't think of that right now.]

I don't think the floor is going to get any cleaner.

[Descole's hand falters for a moment, and then she shakes her head and goes back to scrubbing even harder.]

It doesn't matter. It's not about that. It's something that stops me thinking. That's all I need, and at least this way is safer than alcohol even if it's not as satisfying.

...besides, I'm not sure I can even stand back up from here right now.

[She hasn't eaten in a few days, she's barely drunk anything non-alcoholic and her recent attempts at sleep can be better described as drinking until she knocks herself out.]

[Descole doesn't deny that he is a villain. He's wounded hundreds of people, and probably killed some, though none he would have seen right away. Even though through his evil side, he can't help but feel worried for his double. Considering, he knows how she's feeling.]

[He walks over to her and picks her up off her feet, making he drop the scrub, and as she falters a bit to her feet, he laughs.]

You're not used to Anorexia Nervosa are you?

[Descole bites back something that's almost a whimper, clinging onto her double's front and glancing back down at the scrubbing brush.]

Thank you, double, but really. I was trying to...

[Trying to what, even? It's not like the floor is going to get any cleaner, so about the only thing she was going to do was mess up her hands and knees crawling around on the floor like that.

She doesn't want to think about what he said. It's not like she doesn't already know that she's got a million hang-ups when it comes to food, but she doesn't want to hear it said so bluntly like that. Who does he even think he is? Descole makes a frustrated noise in the back of her throat, trying to push away from him without actually letting go of his jacket. Her head hurts right now, trying to think about this and function at the same time, when functioning alone is hard enough for her.]

Hey, don't hurt yourself now.

[He sits her down on a bench in front of a baby grand piano and holds her there, making sure she doesn't faint. He notices the aggravation from his statement that she gave before.]

Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. You were saying how you were used to eating breads and starches. I can tell you haven't eaten...my compulsions get like that when I can't control anything...

[With a small snicker;] Don't tell my enemies that please. I'm trying to come off as stronger than them.

[Descole still tries to struggle away for a few moments, then gives up and lets him keep her there, though she's trembling and she won't look at him. She trusts him, but that doesn't stop being held like that when she wants to get away from terrifying her, even though she knows that he's right to hold her and that she'd probably fall over without it.]

I don't... I don't eat much, though, this isn't that abnormal for me from a food point of view. It's just, normally the eating and sleeping aren't at their worst at the same time as each other. I've been living off alcohol and barely sleeping, I...

[She stares down at her hands for a moment, watching them shake, then reaches up to cover her face.]

I want to just drink it off, I know it's stupid and this place probably won't give me any more anyway, but that's all I want. I haven't wanted food, even when I'm hungry the idea of any food just makes me feel sick.

[He nods, listening to her situation with a smirk.]

See, I have. I consider myself more experienced in disordered habits, since I've been this way since I was, hmm, a child. No, I'm joking, no one can be more experienced in such terrible habits, but I will say, my body's slightly adapted.

You, on the other hand, are experiencing addiction withdraws and probably a very *very* prevalent sodium deficiency. You're not going to like this, but you have to consuming something with salt, m'love.

[So, it wasn't that comforting, but he tries.]

[Shuddering, she shakes her head. The thought of eating anything at all is bad enough, the thought of having to eat something that isn't bland starch makes her actually want to vomit. There's nothing in her stomach, though, so she ends up dry-heaving.]

God, no. I can't, double. I'm fine. I can cope with this, I'd rather cope with this than-- than have to eat something like that.

[She dry-heaves again, because she can imagine the taste in her mouth, and pulls her arms around herself, trying not to let him see how much the heaving is hurting her chest.]

I'm fine, double, I'm fine, I'm fine.

[They don't even sound like words to her any more, but she keeps repeating them, because she has to make him understand that she can't do what he's suggesting.]

[And of course, by now he doesn't believe it. He doesn't believe it because he's been in her situation, and he knew he wasn't okay. But unlike her, he didn't have some one to comfort him and help him. He wasn't going to let anyone experience that.]

I know, don't eat. I'm sorry for bringing it up. One thing at a time. Baby steps...you need sleep.

[He picks her up and walks her to the bed in the room. Even against her will, he lies her down on the bed and covers her with the blanket. She knows she must be freezing because he feels that way all the time. His fingers and his hands always felt like they were going to fall off when he didn't eat. He knows because he feels it now. He's not going to let her know though.]

[She can't exactly fight him at this point, but at the same time she can't take being forced to do things. Sitting herself up as quickly as she can manage without her head spinning, Descole kicks the blanket away, hugging her knees to her chest and trembling all over.]

No! Stop it, stop it, I don't want to, I won't be forced, I--

[She breaks off, reaching up and pushing her hat off so that she can knot her fingers in her hair tight enough to hurt.]

Fuck. Stop touching me. Stop touching me, please, double, it-- I--

[In a rush;] Double it scares me because you're touching me and you can move me around and make me do things and I can't stop you and please.

Okay okay! I promise! I will not touch you again! I promise!

[Worried about her hair he shakes his head and balls his hands into fists. His double is literally like a female version of him and it scares him.]

[A little desperately;] Just please, *please* stop pulling your hair. *Please*....

[He feels the anxiety rise in his chest as he watches her. She needs to stop. For the good of both of them.]

[Letting out a great, shuddering breath, Descole slowly relaxes her hands and drops them down to her sides.]

I--

[She pushes away from the bed and staggers a few steps away, dropping back to her knees and heaving. Nothing more than bile comes up and it hurts, but she can't stand anything right now and she needs to let it out in some way, even if she doesn't have anything to throw up.]

Oh-- god, Double.

...I'm pathetic, aren't I?

I wouldn't say pathetic.

[He sits on the bed, and crosses his legs Indian style staring at her. He shakes his head.]

I'm not going to lie though, it's nice not to be the one enduring it. Sorry I freaked out when I saw you pulling your hair. I used to do that to punish myself and I lost all my hair back here. [He touches the back of his neck, just below his head.] It's all grown back though, luckily. It just...it brought back bad memories.

Won't you please come back up here? I'll help you if you need--oh right. I can't touch you again. But please, you *need* to sleep.

I-- I can't do that. Not yet. I'm not tired enough.

[Not tired enough to actually pass out at least, and that's about the only way she can avoid the nightmares at the moment. Not meeting his eyes, she crawls back over to where she'd dropped the brush and resumes her scrubbing with renewed force.]

Fuck, just... this is about the only thing I can do, double, it's the only thing I can hold on to because nothing makes sense right now and it hurts to think. God. The last thing I had... the last person I had like that was Layton, even as an enemy he was reliable and predictable and then look what he did.

I guess at least I don't have to worry about this fucking thing up for me in quite the way he did, do I?

[She lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, choking back bile again. She can't look at her double; she knows he's right and she's wrong, that she should do as he says and sleep, but she can't. He must think that she's some sort of moron, though, because it's obvious to both of them that he's right and she's just resisting him like some sort of child. Biting back a sudden sob, she bends her head lower over the brush, hiding her face more than just the mask does so that she can bite down on her lip without her double commenting on the blood.]

[Descole lies on the bed, his stomach down, and his head at the foot, watching her clean. It's all he can do. He knows he can't touch her, and he can't comment on what she's doing, because he knows she just doesn't want to. He can tell she knows what she thinks is wrong.]

[He begins scratching at his hand impulsively as he watches her, worried about her.]

I'm probably more reliable and predictable than he is. I think we can both agree on that.

[It's all he can say, as he continues to scratch irritated. What can he do? It's his younger self all over again, and he knows there isn't anything. So he continues scratching the way he does.]

[Descole shudders a little, letting her lip free from her teeth. Well, it means she actually has something to clean when the blood drips down onto the floor, so there's that.]

And I trust you. I don't trust him. Maybe if I could find one who I can trust then that would help, but just the sight of any Layton puts me on edge.

Trust me, if you knew the Layton I knew, you'd probably end up being best friends with him.

[Descole himself, was at some point, best friends with him, but that was a long, and difficult story.]

[He continued scratching at himself nervously, as he noticed her bleeding lip and wasn't able to do anything. Before he knew it, he drew blood as well, and he had to stop. He wasn't helping anyone.]

Look, can we make a deal? Can you come over here, lie next to me, and I promise, cross my heart, and hope to die, you don't have to sleep or anything, I won't touch you. Just please. Stop. Cleaning.

I-- I need something to do with my hands. I can't just stay still like that, I-I...

[She shifts a little closer to the bed, though, and tilts her head up to look at him, reaching up at the same time to wipe at the blood covering her chin.]

[He thinks a moment, before coming up with an idea. He sits up and walks to the nightstand next to this bed. He reached into the drawer and pulled out a box filled with dozens of organized strings.]

[He handed her four different colors and let out a snicker.]

I've decided I'm going to teach you how to make bracelets. [With another laugh, he continued.] When I was a kid, I used to make them with my dance troupe inbetween practice or sets. I taught them all how, and I'm going to teach you.

[Sure, it was childish, but he needed a way to stop her from cleaning. It was mentally killing him.]

[Descole nods after a moment, managing to pull herself up to stagger back to the bed and drop down against the pillows.]

Okay. That should... that should take care of it, yes.

[Pulling her knees in close to her chest, she hugs her legs, trying to warm herself up.]

[He smiles and moves closer to her, now laying on his stomach and propping his torso up with his forearms. He doesn't care that she can see his skinned up and slightly bloodied hand.]

Have you ever made a string bracelet before?

N-no, I... I...

[She trails off, reaching out to brush the very edges of her knuckles over his hand. She's still hesitant about the touching, and it's obvious, but so long as things are on her terms then she can just about cope.]

You... god, you did that because of me, didn't you? I'm sorry.

[He shakes his head.]

It wasn't at all because of you. I do it on impulse. I mean, not even me, this is something else. My hand does it on it's own. It always has.

[He pulls his sleeve up showing scars and cuts all around his arm.] I promise it's not you.