He's never been more glad to not be alone in a moment than this. He's not sure he could have handled this without Hartley at all. He doesn't respond, mostly because he can't and it's not like there's anything to say anyway.
The rest of the time at the hospital is a rushed blur of goodbyes and protocols. By the time they make it back home, in the all-too early hours of the morning, Cisco's reached a comfortably numb phase. At least it's better than the tears. His breaths are still a little stuttered, not quite as even as he'd like, but he isn't just smack in the middle of a breakdown anymore. For now? He's not sure it's over completely, so that may be more appropriate.
Cisco sighs heavily as he leans against the apartment door as they get inside. What's he supposed to do now? Live like it's all the same, and nothing's changed? He scrubs a hand down his face and pushes off of the door, turning long enough to make sure the locks are set, and heads toward the bedroom. "I'm just...gonna go to bed." And it sounds like that handful of words took a lot for him to even manage just now, but his fingers brush Hartley's as he walks by him to go crawl into bed. He doesn't think his boyfriend will be all that far behind.
"I'll be there in a second." Hartley doesn't really know what to do with himself, but he gives Cisco the time alone. It's habit more than anything that has him reach for his phone and dial his mother's number. He holds it to his ear while he walks around the kitchen, waiting until it cuts to voicemail, hearing the few seconds he can of his mother talking in a friendly tone. Of course he doesn't leave a message, he knows better than that.
Instead he puts the phone away and then heads for the bedroom, closing the door behind him and then climbing into bed next to Cisco so he can wrap his arms around him. What is he supposed to do? "Do you want to talk about him?"
Cisco neither hates or loves the time alone. Some part of him appreciates it, another part just silently counts the seconds until he hears the soft footsteps coming down the hallway. The second he's next to him, he curls against Hartley, seeking both the warmth and the comfort. Hartley may feel like he's at a loss, but there's little more Cisco could want or need from him right now.
"Not really..." his voice is quiet, a little hoarse and there's a frown etched into his features. He's silent for a little while, tracing patterns against the material of Hartley's shirt. Despite his denial for sharing stories, his next words seem to just bubble out of their own will, "We used to be closer... when we were kids. Til I was like, nine or ten, I guess. That's when he started pulling away." He shrugs one shoulder. "No teenager wants to hang out with their kid brother, I guess. I always hoped it'd change...in the future, somehow, we'd come full circle. The gap wouldn't matter and we'd be close again." His voice drops to a whispers. "So much for that."
"People grow apart. You are very different." Mostly he's thinking that by all accounts, Dante was a giant jerk that over-compensated for not having his brother's intelligence by making him feel inferior in spite of being the opposite, but that's clearly not something he'd share. Not right now and likely not ever. It doesn't matter anyway. None of that makes them not be brothers, none of that means that Dante didn't care for Cisco. Obviously it doesn't mean that Cisco doesn't care for him. "There's still good memories, right? Family."
"Yeah," he nods a little, "there are some good ones...but it's all they are. Memories." And what good did that do him? "I always thought there'd be time to fix it." A bitter, mirthless laugh escapes him at that. It was a harsh irony, in light of everything he now knows about time and timelines and the way there's never enough of it, or a way to catch it.
"That's something though. I'm sorry, Cisquito." There's really no use to pointing out that things might have never been fixed between them, because ultimately? That hardly matters. He kisses Cisco's hair, tightening his arms around him. There's been a timeline where they never were anything but enemies. That same timeline that has Barry, who he's come to think of as a close friend, still eye him with cautious wariness. Things can change so easily. "I'm sorry it happened."
If it's possible, he curls tighter against Hartley, shifting enough so his cheek rests against his boyfriend's chest, his ear just above his heart. There's not much left to say, but he can can let the soft, steady thud of Hartley's heart lull him to sleep.
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Date: 2016-12-28 04:15 am (UTC)The rest of the time at the hospital is a rushed blur of goodbyes and protocols. By the time they make it back home, in the all-too early hours of the morning, Cisco's reached a comfortably numb phase. At least it's better than the tears. His breaths are still a little stuttered, not quite as even as he'd like, but he isn't just smack in the middle of a breakdown anymore. For now? He's not sure it's over completely, so that may be more appropriate.
Cisco sighs heavily as he leans against the apartment door as they get inside. What's he supposed to do now? Live like it's all the same, and nothing's changed? He scrubs a hand down his face and pushes off of the door, turning long enough to make sure the locks are set, and heads toward the bedroom. "I'm just...gonna go to bed." And it sounds like that handful of words took a lot for him to even manage just now, but his fingers brush Hartley's as he walks by him to go crawl into bed. He doesn't think his boyfriend will be all that far behind.
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Date: 2016-12-28 04:26 am (UTC)Instead he puts the phone away and then heads for the bedroom, closing the door behind him and then climbing into bed next to Cisco so he can wrap his arms around him. What is he supposed to do? "Do you want to talk about him?"
no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 04:48 am (UTC)"Not really..." his voice is quiet, a little hoarse and there's a frown etched into his features. He's silent for a little while, tracing patterns against the material of Hartley's shirt. Despite his denial for sharing stories, his next words seem to just bubble out of their own will, "We used to be closer... when we were kids. Til I was like, nine or ten, I guess. That's when he started pulling away." He shrugs one shoulder. "No teenager wants to hang out with their kid brother, I guess. I always hoped it'd change...in the future, somehow, we'd come full circle. The gap wouldn't matter and we'd be close again." His voice drops to a whispers. "So much for that."
no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 04:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 05:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 05:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-29 01:56 am (UTC)