Morange Part II

The sudden alter in the current state of events was shocking to Matt. Matt was proficiently skilled at fast reactions. However his unpreparedness was his own fault. The situation he found himself in was one in which he had let his total guard down and allowed himself to feel at ease. He was completely unaware at the feat at which Nemo had attempted and succeeded. And, unable to save himself, his back hand found the floor and suddenly Nemo was uncomfortably incredibly close. He could feel Nemo's hot breath against his face and smell the alcohol that fueled the mans system at the same time. It had been a very odd day for Matt so far and it was only going to get even more unexplainable.

Even it Matt had managed to hold onto his wand he wouldn't have made any sexual advances on his friend. He wouldn't have been able to cause any type of harm to the already unstable man before him. But as soon as Matt's thought process began to die down the unthinkable happened, Nemo began to have a vision. And judging by the utterance of his own name it was about him. And what followed didn't exactly put him at ease about the vision. He swore under his breath and shut his eyes tight. He didn't want to know that something even worse was going to happen to him than what already had. He held a very tense look as Nemo's grip around him tightened.

Shortly after, his grip loosened and Matt was able to get free; grabbing his wand in the process. He looked down at his friend, in a heap on the floor. He sighed heavily and tilted his head back. He wanted to know what Nemo had saw. But he feared the worse, the probability of knowing making it unchangeable. Knowing the future is a dangerous thing Matt would never have wanted to know. He considered it a burden, knowing all that information and having to keep it to himself. Besides, what if what he saw about Matt was more than either of them could bare. In an anger fueled rage he flipped what was left of the coffee table and it smashed against the wall. "Dammit 'Mo!" he said sadly.

OOC: How about Nemo saw Matt going through mental trauma and in the hospital for an incredibly long time. I'll explain later.

Nemo’s assumption that the medical procedure that he had previously undergone had been any form of torture had been prematurely made; for the physical ‘hit’ that he had taken could not remotely compare to the torturous future that he had beheld when invited behind the future’s thick veil. What had on many other occasions acted the fuel of Nemo’s very existence, had turned sour. And as opposed to the high that he had once lived for, it had left him feeling psychologically beaten, and without the capacity to carry on.

Matt’s screams echoed within the tunnels of his ears, penetrating their drums with unrelenting drive, and Nemo crumbled atop the glass-dusted floor. His vision had long since been swept of the shadow that had rendered him momentarily blind, yet his mind swam with his companion’s howls. Nemo thrust further backward against the floor, as though with the intention of melting through the solid surface to bury himself in the soil beneath. And with violent, jerking fists Nemo pounded his skull, delivering one punch after another to his ears in quick succession in his efforts to rid himself of the proof that he'd obtained of Matt’s future turmoil.

The man whose fate had been delivered to Nemo uttered a curse and succumbed to his temper, but Nemo had eyes only for the ceiling as he beat his ringing ears. For Nemo had not yet been subjected to this particular lesson; he hadn’t yet discovered the pain that accompanied a bad omen before that evening; before he had witnessed the insanity that would soon overwhelm his friend’s mind. He was inexperienced in any other negative effect of his premonitions than his own mental illness. Foolishly, he had never paid a thought to the possibility of exposing the detail that would be the downfall of someone for whom he would more willingly die than mourn. And he was not certain he could survive such a ‘downside’.

Matt couldn't keep his eyes off the squirming heap on the floor. The thought of the horror of his own past that Nemo was being objectified to was wrestling with the pain that came from seeing his friend in the turmoil he was in. He opted to simply stand and watch, not that his brain was offering him any other choices.

In time Nemo's spastic squirming began to die down. And Matt was able to get a little closer to his companion as to show him some form of comfort. He wasn't sure what Nemo had seen, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what the man had seen. All that he could gather was that it was pretty bad and it was about him. The very thought frightened him more than anything had in a very long time. But a tiny part of him, in the very back of his mind, was almost glad of this reaction. This was probably the most vulnerable he had ever seen Nemo. It showed Matt how important Matt was to Nemo. He just wasn't sure how he could reciprocate said emotional feeling; or if it would even be possible.

Matt sat back on the ground next to Nemo. He didn't look at him. He just sat there, cross legged, thinking in silence. "So, uh, bad dream?" he eventually asked him. He smirked slightly, it sounded much funnier than it probably should have. But given the thing he had just seen he needed a much warmer and safer environment.

Patience seemed to be the only effective weapon that Nemo had been armed with against the war that was being waged on his mind; for it was only after time had passed – and what had surely been no longer than a minute felt an eternity in his personal purgatory – that Matt’s screams began to die. As the soul-chilling noise met its demise, Nemo clutched his ears; folding his curled-finger fists over his ears to silence the soft echo that remained.

He parted his lips and exhaled a due breath, relieving his lungs of a burn that he had not recognized before the auditory symptom of his premonition had left him. With a whoosh the stale breath was rid of and slowly, he lowered his hands from his ears and they collapsed, exhausted along the floor where Matt had joined him once more.

Nemo’s head fell towards his companion, eyes pricked with proof of his sorrow as those soulful blues examined the state of the man before him; that man who spoke the only words that could have ever put Nemo at ease after such a fit. “So, uh, bad dream?” A broken, lazy laugh wriggled free from Nemo’s heaving chest and he lowered his lids over his eyes to rest, if only for long enough to gather his bearings. “Yeah,” He sighed. “Bad dream.”

He turned his hand, which previously lay limp, to skim the hem of Matt’s sleeve with his fingertips – carefully, so not to alert Matt of the expression of affection. And he was met at once by the relief that he had so required; the confirmation that Matt was indeed beside him, whole and as well as he and Nemo could ever truly be. Before he opened his eyes to the disastrous living room and climbed unsteadily to his feet, offering Matt a hand, “Wanna be sedated?” He inquired, singing those words which he’d stolen from yet another ancient, muggle song. And he smiled, “I have plenty to go around, and I’m medicating with or without you.”

Matt was neither relieved or stressed further by Nemo struggling to his feet. He had finally made the connection that he would never be able to control this man, nobody could. Jack might think she had that power but really nobody could ever have that power over the man. Instead Matt opted to simply cock his head to the sigh and chuckle lightly. Matt had done many things in his life, and he was a recovering addict. That last thing he wanted to do was jump right back on the bandwagon to hell again. He looked up at his friend with a miniscule grin and shook his head. "Don't tempt me." he warned him. That was the last thing he needed at the moment.

Instead he jumped to his feet and made his way towards what was left of the kitchen. Maneuvering around chunks of plaster he reached the cupboard. He pulled out a glass and pointed his wand at the glass. Uttering an incantation that was barely audible and water began to flow from his wand into glass. And in a matter of seconds the glass had turned a goldish colour. "Bottoms up!" he said as he gulped down the scotch. He smacked his lips and grinned at the look on his companions face. "I'll teach you that one some day." he put the glass down forcefully and jumped back into the living room with Nemo.

"I can't remember why I came here." he said absentmindedly. Very few people had the affect Nemo had on him. When he was with Nemo practically everything left his mind; including his brain. So while his brain as on vacation it had appeared that it had left some of Matt's memory behind at the hotel. He twirled his wand in between his fingers and stared at the figure before him. "Now what?" he asked him.

"Your loss," was Nemo's indifferent reply, his attention having been stolen by a far more persistent force than the cryptic grin that Matt had provided; with each step that Nemo laid his feet upon the floor, the glass flecks that remained beneath his healed skin reminded him of their presence. His walk stuttered, before he solemnly swore that such predicaments were to be faced with the same attitude with which one removed a bandage. "Just rip it off. Rip it off," He spoke aloud and with fierce strength, he stomped. "Fu-uh-" He near-sobbed, before inhaling a trembling breath that would surely steady him. Again, he stomped. Stomp. Stomp. His toes arched with they're disapproval, but Nemo was swiftly making his way towards the stairs.

Stomp.
Stomp.
Stomp.

Two at a time, he took them.

Stomp.
Stomp.

Trip - "Woahaha, I almost fell down the stairs backwards," He informed Matt over his shoulder and giggled foolishly to himself as he was flooded with relief.

Stomp.
Stomp.

He marched onward, over the threshold of his junk-littered bedroom floor and proceeded in the direction of his beloved pharmacy; the stockpile of a medicine cabinet to which he had been adding for the duration of the time that he'd spent at Jack's residence. The mirror swung with a whine on its hinge to reveal the many levels of poisons and prescription pills within, from which Nemo plucked a sloppily prepared case of pre-rolled spliffs.

Stomp.
Stomp.

His steps were no less thunderous when he began his trek back down the stairs to join once more the rubble to which he had diminished the house's lower level. "Sparky?" Nemo called with a joint perched between his full lips. Into the kitchen with curious, childlike eyes he stomped. "Sparky?" He cocked his head to one side as he payed the proceedings before him its due attention. Awestricken, he watched as Matt performed his act of transfiguration perfectly. "'Some day'?!" He mimicked his companion and stooped to the floor to procure the joint that he'd dropped from his mouth in his state of surprise. "How's about today?" Nemo dramatically proposed.

He paused to jab a finger at his drug in the silent request that Matt light its end as he returned to what was once a sitting room. "Mind-blowing sex?" Nemo answered his friend's inquiry with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, before continuing, "Or we could fix the stereo - you smell like booze, you know. You have any left? I'm out. Dry. Sober. In need of a drink." He rambled.

OOC: Sorry. I acknowledge the fact that this post is horrendous.
I'm still getting back into the swing of things.