How Green Becomes Wood

"It is no concern," Dark said, waving one hand. Only the frantic beating of his heart could reveal he was not as calm and collected as he appeared, but Tristan was too far to feel nor hear it. At the request from the other man, he took a few quick strides to switch off the speaker, and then he wheeled his chair nearer to him, setting the breaks on so it would not wheel back out from under him. "Would you like help?"
 
With the music off, the silence felt nearly oppressive, but it was easier to bear. Tristan took a shaky breath and let it out slowly. He looked at the chair, instinctively wanting to refuse the help, but forced himself to assess himself. "Yes," he finally said quietly. "I think I could manage, but it would be safer if you helped. Thank you."
 
Delicately, Dark asked for advice on how best to help him, and then followed the instructions to the letter with a gentleness which would seem incongruous with the strength he had just demonstrated on the elder Walsh if it were all he were known by, yet perfectly natural if he was seen more with his toddler. "There," He said, after Tristan was settled in his chair, "How are you? Are you injured?"
 
Tristan was able to give him directions, and being in his chair instantly eased a lot of his anxiety. It was a part of him now. How he maintained his autonomy and independence. To be denied it was terrifying beyond words. He sat for a moment without answering Dark, allowing himself a moment to assure himself that he was okay and center himself. He ran his hands along the arms of the chair and the edges of his wheels as his trembling eased. Finally, he looked at Dark. "I will be alright," he said quietly. "I am a bit bruised, I think, but I do not think I am injured. Thank you. If it had not been for you..." he looked away, "I do not think that would have been true." Realizing something, he bent down and started feeling his legs. Those could be badly damaged and he would not realize it without visually inspecting them, except possibly for something like a broken bone, but his inspection turned up no serious damage.
 
"I am sorry for the bruises," Dark replied, watching Tristan carefully and stepping back apace. "I was going home, I am glad I came down this street and saw noticed the lights were on. I was concerned those who break your pots on occasion may have escalated."
 
"Only bruises, I assure you," Dark said, holding up a hand, "My toddler hurts me worse. I do not know if Alec told you of the black eye she gifted me with. Do your security cameras always record?"
 
Tristan gave a nod and glanced up at the visible one. "Yes. I... I hesitate to report him because he is family, but..." He looked away and down at his lap, gripping his hands together. "It is always excuses and reasons," he said quietly. "If it were anyone else, even a friend, I would have no problem, but... he is my father." He gave a weak smile, not looking at Dark, and shrugged. "That should not excuse him." He gripped his fingers tightly and then relaxed his hold. "I almost went. Yesterday. I strongly considered going and trying to be some sort of good influence, but that would have been about as much positive impact as a preacher in a dive bar, wouldn't it? I did not go because of you. And a bit because of Alec."
 
Dark inhaled deeply, pulling the stool the store had for Alec around so he could sit across from Tristan, taking it a little bit more slowly than he usually would. He sat in silence for a long while, first while Tristan spoke, then when he considered what to say in turn.

"Do you think much on the concept of mercy?" He said at last, now keeping his eyes on the younger man.
 
Last edited:
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top