[He clucks disapprovingly at the language, but he can't help but look entirely pleased by the praise, the smirk turning into a bright, toothy grin.]
Well, you ain't got nothing to worry about, honey.
[He hooks his arm around Ricki's neck and tugs him in for a kiss. The other hand still lingers over his heart when he draws back again; Omar's smile softens, fades at the corners, voice dropping a little lower.]
[He returns the kiss, and shuts his eyes at the question. It's a terribly intimate thing to dwell on, when he still doesn't really have an answer from him, and doesn't expect one at least until morning.]
Of course.
[It's a bit of a strange thing to say a prayer for, but he does, privately, nonetheless.]
[He does dwell there, though, if silently. He shuts his eyes too and rests his head against Ricki's again, lips pressing briefly to his temple.
This is the only answer he has in him tonight, though it's already a lot to give. His mood is still mercurial: this is intimate enough to hurt a little, definitely enough to pull him back down from his reminiscent glee, but it's like the part of him that wants it to hurt won't let him stay too high for too long right now. Like he needs to remember that if he's deciding to stay, it's for more than joking and flirting and halfway mythical autobiography.
And he stays, and it does hurt, and it really should. He draws back, tracing his fingers down Ricki's cheek.]
[Ricki wants to know, apropos of nothing, except that he sits up enough to lean over him and turn off the bedside lamp, plunging them into darkness. He adjusts the pillows for them both, and rolls onto his side, taking Omar's arm and giving it a light tug, hoping to coax him to press up against his back, tangle an arm around his waist. He wants to be close, without necessarily facing all of it, right now.]
[That works for Omar -- maybe it's even a little bit of a relief at the moment. He spoons up behind Ricki at his urging and drapes his arm over his side, leaving it loose around his waist.]
[Omar doesn't dream, or if he does, it's in murky, fleeting snippets that are instantly forgotten. He sleeps restlessly anyway, more like catnapping than actual sleep, leaving him waking up haphazardly throughout what remains of the night and into the morning. He doesn't take Ricki's advice to get up and do something else. He'd chosen to stay, and he stays until Ricki wakes up again, and tries to keep the chaos quiet in his mind each time until he can doze off again.
He's not really feeling any better at the end of it, but the long night has given him a little more clarity, and he knows this much: he has to tell him something. Maybe everything, maybe not, but at least something to explain why this isn't just a power struggle. He owes him that much.
So when he feels Ricki stir, when he opens his eyes to see all the little signs of wakefulness, he tells him before he can start to get up:]
[Ricki rolls onto his back to look up at him, reaching up to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He's soft in the mornings, and a little groggy, but senses right away that this is going to be important.
Worth sitting up, then, and giving him a soft kiss on the mouth, deciding;]
[Omar was kind of really hoping to get this out before Ricki could get up or, say, look at him, and he seems a little more reticent right away. Ricki goes to get his tea and Omar sits up to watch him, then bites his lip and looks away, trying to reframe the little speech he'd prepared during all those wakeful hours. He's no coward, but when it comes to things like this... Well, even for him, there are things that are easier to say to a man's face than others.
He chafes his hands over his wrists, thinking for a moment, then starts again, like he's taking a new tack:]
Got this thing we say back home when we get locked up: "You only really ever do two days -- the day you go in and the day you get out." Except we all know that second day come sooner for some people, right? And it be a foolish man that get too attached to somebody got a lot less time in between the two than he do.
[A prison fling is one thing, he means. Something to help pass the time, to make doing the time a little easier. Something both people let go when the first one gets out. Tricky and complex as things with Ricki have always been, that had been Omar's main thought when he'd kissed him that first time: finally, a little fun.]
[Ricki gets out two of his ridiculous sunshine mugs, and two teabags, and a little sugar for Omar's. None for his own. The electric kettle heats up quickly, but not so quick that he isn't still waiting for it, leaning against the desk where it lives while Omar talks.
He nods, and listens, and tries to just hear and not fast forward to the dire things that might mean, holding himself very still.]
[He gives it a pause there anyway, waiting to see if he will interject; when he doesn't, Omar looks back over at him, still reluctant but sincere. The implication here is dire, but it's one of the things that needs to be said.]
I dunno how much time either of us got left, but we both know you likely to have a lot less than me. And I...
[The corner of his mouth tics ruefully. He didn't bother to take off his jewelry last night, and he twists absently at the ring he likes to wear on the middle finger of his left hand.]
Dunno why I thought it'd be safe, hooking up with Ricki Tarr. I think that was just me being impulsive. But I wasn't planning on nobody having they heart stopped, anyway. It's been a good while since I really...
[He admits, as he finally pours the tea. Carefully filling both cups with hot water.]
I wondered, 'if I become a warden, will Omar forgive me?' I wondered, would you forgive me for doing it to save Irina's brains being spattered all over a Moscow wall, just for the crime of falling for me? Would you forgive me if you suspected the real reason was just taking another year or two to stay near to you?
[He lets out a breath, and brings him over his cup of tea. Thinking the better of it, he sets it down on the dresser, along with his own, and sits on the bed next to him, taking his hand, trailing a fingertip over the palm of Omar's hand.]
Two days, right?
[Drawing a slow, steady circle with his thumb.]
Well, spend one day with me. Then spend it again tomorrow, and if you want, spend it again the day after. I'm here. I'm not so reformed as all that, Omar Little.
[He misstepped, he realizes. He hadn't meant that this is his problem, that they're on different clocks; he'd meant that's what had made him assume it would never get to this point at all. It's worked for him like that before. It had worked like that just about every time he'd taken a sojourn down to Jessup.
But he'd never met anyone like Ricki in Jessup, had he?
He takes a breath and tries again:]
That's what I thought I was doing. That's how it be for me in most things, anyway: day at a time, real simple. But you start asking me to change my ways, darlin', and... truth be told, if that's still all we was doing, I'd have taken my leave last night and let that have been the end of it. Easy like that.
It's been a real long while since I had anybody make me wanna try staying anyway.
[Omar doesn't touch his mug. He stays still and looks down at his hands, at the spot where the warmth of Ricki's hand still lingers, and swallows hard on nothing but history.]
I had this boy. Been gone four, maybe coming on five years now, but he was beautiful, and he--
[He presses his lips tight together and shakes his head, lacing his fingers together.]
You wanted to know what Avon Barksdale's people did to bring me down on them like that.
We hit one of they stash houses. Me, Brandon, this muscle my brother handed off to me when he got locked up. No particular reason for it to be them -- it was just they time to be hit. That's what I do, know what I mean?
[Ricki's done his studying; he knows how the stick-up crew works now, even if it's been a while since Omar had any sticking up to do up here.]
And you expect a little blowback when that happen, no doubt. Wasn't no surprise when I heard Avon put out a ticket on me. They iced Bailey -- I didn't know it was them at the time, but that wouldn't have been no surprise, either. That's all in the game, you feel me? My rules ain't only mine.
But the money he put out there on us, on me, and the kind of peoples he had working under him, they didn't care about no rules for that much green. They picked Brandon up off the street one night, right out this place he liked, and...
[He falters, his voice fracturing a little, going hoarse. He bows his head over his hands as if in prayer.]
Tried to get him to give me up, but my boy had heart. They tore him apart trying to get it out of him.
[He agrees, and shifts closer, resting his hand on Omar's, lowering his head, too.]
He sounds like a very good, very brave young man. [He has seen this before; lost colleagues, lost agents, lost friends. It's worse when it's someone who you feel responsible for. It's worst, when they love you and they die on your behalf.] You must have loved him very much.
[And there is the heart of the problem. Leslie had implied once, and Omar is just self-aware enough to have wondered at times since, if the strength of Brandon's sacrifice might not have turned him into something larger than life entirely in Omar's memory. That maybe he's become the kind of mythical figure for Omar that Omar wants to be for other people; that the love Omar had for him when he was alive has become something unapproachable in his grief.
Really, it hadn't mattered much one way or the other before. He'd honestly tried with Dante at first, but that had been flawed from the start, and he hasn't put any real effort into anything since then. Not Renaldo. Definitely not any of the short-term comforts he's found in various ports of call.
He hadn't been planning to with Ricki, but suddenly Ricki is asking him to, and he hadn't expected that he wouldn't be able to say no. It's a tough thing to realize how hard he's fallen when falling for anyone at all feels a little like a sin.]
I brought down the wrath of God Himself against every man that ruined that beautiful boy, but it still ain't feel like enough, some days. And you coming along, shaking me up like this...
[He sighs.]
I dunno. I need you to know that ain't easy on me.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Am not.
[Is too, is too, is too.]
You a smart man, though, Mister Tarr. 'Chu think I did with all them bits?
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[Fingertip rubbing a circle on the spot he'd go for.]
Am I close?
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Yeah, you close.
[But the truth is so much better, and he's feeling up to showing off again -- it doesn't exactly take much for that. He smirks.]
Rigged up a little crossbow. One bolt, right across the deck.
[He taps Ricki's chest.]
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Fuck, Omar.
[That's-]
I'm not even going to let you use paperclips in here.
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Well, you ain't got nothing to worry about, honey.
[He hooks his arm around Ricki's neck and tugs him in for a kiss. The other hand still lingers over his heart when he draws back again; Omar's smile softens, fades at the corners, voice dropping a little lower.]
Enough to stop your heart, huh?
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Of course.
[It's a bit of a strange thing to say a prayer for, but he does, privately, nonetheless.]
cw: self-harm ideation
This is the only answer he has in him tonight, though it's already a lot to give. His mood is still mercurial: this is intimate enough to hurt a little, definitely enough to pull him back down from his reminiscent glee, but it's like the part of him that wants it to hurt won't let him stay too high for too long right now. Like he needs to remember that if he's deciding to stay, it's for more than joking and flirting and halfway mythical autobiography.
And he stays, and it does hurt, and it really should. He draws back, tracing his fingers down Ricki's cheek.]
You're right, man -- it's late.
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[Ricki wants to know, apropos of nothing, except that he sits up enough to lean over him and turn off the bedside lamp, plunging them into darkness. He adjusts the pillows for them both, and rolls onto his side, taking Omar's arm and giving it a light tug, hoping to coax him to press up against his back, tangle an arm around his waist. He wants to be close, without necessarily facing all of it, right now.]
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Don't know-- so I guess not, really. Why, do you?
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For the first few minutes.
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Good dreams, then.
[Omar doesn't dream, or if he does, it's in murky, fleeting snippets that are instantly forgotten. He sleeps restlessly anyway, more like catnapping than actual sleep, leaving him waking up haphazardly throughout what remains of the night and into the morning. He doesn't take Ricki's advice to get up and do something else. He'd chosen to stay, and he stays until Ricki wakes up again, and tries to keep the chaos quiet in his mind each time until he can doze off again.
He's not really feeling any better at the end of it, but the long night has given him a little more clarity, and he knows this much: he has to tell him something. Maybe everything, maybe not, but at least something to explain why this isn't just a power struggle. He owes him that much.
So when he feels Ricki stir, when he opens his eyes to see all the little signs of wakefulness, he tells him before he can start to get up:]
The thing of it is, I wasn't planning on this.
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Worth sitting up, then, and giving him a soft kiss on the mouth, deciding;]
'm put tea on.
[He'll hear better once he has.]
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He chafes his hands over his wrists, thinking for a moment, then starts again, like he's taking a new tack:]
Got this thing we say back home when we get locked up: "You only really ever do two days -- the day you go in and the day you get out." Except we all know that second day come sooner for some people, right? And it be a foolish man that get too attached to somebody got a lot less time in between the two than he do.
[A prison fling is one thing, he means. Something to help pass the time, to make doing the time a little easier. Something both people let go when the first one gets out. Tricky and complex as things with Ricki have always been, that had been Omar's main thought when he'd kissed him that first time: finally, a little fun.]
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He nods, and listens, and tries to just hear and not fast forward to the dire things that might mean, holding himself very still.]
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I dunno how much time either of us got left, but we both know you likely to have a lot less than me. And I...
[The corner of his mouth tics ruefully. He didn't bother to take off his jewelry last night, and he twists absently at the ring he likes to wear on the middle finger of his left hand.]
Dunno why I thought it'd be safe, hooking up with Ricki Tarr. I think that was just me being impulsive. But I wasn't planning on nobody having they heart stopped, anyway. It's been a good while since I really...
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[He admits, as he finally pours the tea. Carefully filling both cups with hot water.]
I wondered, 'if I become a warden, will Omar forgive me?' I wondered, would you forgive me for doing it to save Irina's brains being spattered all over a Moscow wall, just for the crime of falling for me? Would you forgive me if you suspected the real reason was just taking another year or two to stay near to you?
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You got me all mixed up, Ricki.
[It's pulled out of him like a confession. It sounds like it hurts.]
You got me so mixed up I don't even know what to do no more.
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Two days, right?
[Drawing a slow, steady circle with his thumb.]
Well, spend one day with me. Then spend it again tomorrow, and if you want, spend it again the day after. I'm here. I'm not so reformed as all that, Omar Little.
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[He misstepped, he realizes. He hadn't meant that this is his problem, that they're on different clocks; he'd meant that's what had made him assume it would never get to this point at all. It's worked for him like that before. It had worked like that just about every time he'd taken a sojourn down to Jessup.
But he'd never met anyone like Ricki in Jessup, had he?
He takes a breath and tries again:]
That's what I thought I was doing. That's how it be for me in most things, anyway: day at a time, real simple. But you start asking me to change my ways, darlin', and... truth be told, if that's still all we was doing, I'd have taken my leave last night and let that have been the end of it. Easy like that.
It's been a real long while since I had anybody make me wanna try staying anyway.
[He sniffs a little, admits:]
But maybe not long enough.
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He composes himself, and looks him over again.]
So what's going to make this all right?
[Reaching over for his tea, which will, at least, help him through it.]
Why's it too soon?
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I had this boy. Been gone four, maybe coming on five years now, but he was beautiful, and he--
[He presses his lips tight together and shakes his head, lacing his fingers together.]
You wanted to know what Avon Barksdale's people did to bring me down on them like that.
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Already, he begins to see the shape of it.]
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[Ricki's done his studying; he knows how the stick-up crew works now, even if it's been a while since Omar had any sticking up to do up here.]
And you expect a little blowback when that happen, no doubt. Wasn't no surprise when I heard Avon put out a ticket on me. They iced Bailey -- I didn't know it was them at the time, but that wouldn't have been no surprise, either. That's all in the game, you feel me? My rules ain't only mine.
But the money he put out there on us, on me, and the kind of peoples he had working under him, they didn't care about no rules for that much green. They picked Brandon up off the street one night, right out this place he liked, and...
[He falters, his voice fracturing a little, going hoarse. He bows his head over his hands as if in prayer.]
Tried to get him to give me up, but my boy had heart. They tore him apart trying to get it out of him.
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[He agrees, and shifts closer, resting his hand on Omar's, lowering his head, too.]
He sounds like a very good, very brave young man. [He has seen this before; lost colleagues, lost agents, lost friends. It's worse when it's someone who you feel responsible for. It's worst, when they love you and they die on your behalf.] You must have loved him very much.
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[And there is the heart of the problem. Leslie had implied once, and Omar is just self-aware enough to have wondered at times since, if the strength of Brandon's sacrifice might not have turned him into something larger than life entirely in Omar's memory. That maybe he's become the kind of mythical figure for Omar that Omar wants to be for other people; that the love Omar had for him when he was alive has become something unapproachable in his grief.
Really, it hadn't mattered much one way or the other before. He'd honestly tried with Dante at first, but that had been flawed from the start, and he hasn't put any real effort into anything since then. Not Renaldo. Definitely not any of the short-term comforts he's found in various ports of call.
He hadn't been planning to with Ricki, but suddenly Ricki is asking him to, and he hadn't expected that he wouldn't be able to say no. It's a tough thing to realize how hard he's fallen when falling for anyone at all feels a little like a sin.]
I brought down the wrath of God Himself against every man that ruined that beautiful boy, but it still ain't feel like enough, some days. And you coming along, shaking me up like this...
[He sighs.]
I dunno. I need you to know that ain't easy on me.
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