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It's not unacceptable. It's just something to monitor. It's something to not allow to go on so completely long.

And now, clearly, it's time to catch his chin over the top of Andrew's head without warning.

"Hey."

It's not an unacceptable thing. Sometimes he gets caught up, and it's all right because he'll emerge the better for it.

But sometimes it's like this. Sometimes there's a haze of deep thought in his eyes that makes everything else seem fuzzy. Sometimes the resting of his best friend's chin on his head barely garners a reaction.

"'s-- no' real, Ed."

For the moment, he stays smiling. For the moment, he puts his hope in pulling an arm around Andrew's shoulders to give them both a delicate little rock back and forth.

"What's not real?"

It's not an unfamiliar conversation. Maybe it can be shaken out of the slightly younger man.

"Everything."

The word slips out in something that would be a wail if it were loud enough-- simply sounds more frustrated as it is.

Clarification comes in stops and starts.

"'s-- truth is so-- relative 'nd-- objectivity barely even-- exists, an' if that's the case, then how can we even say anything's real? What 'f you're jus'-- a figment of my imagination? How d'we even know if everyone's experiencing anything close t'the same kind of reality?"

Ah. This is where the 'not so good' begins.

"Hey."

Shifting is almost unconscious. Shifting gets his chin hooked instead over Andrew's shoulder so their temples can press together, arms tight around Andrew's waist.

"Hey. Breathe."

His response to the request is a trembling breath; one not particularly effective at getting oxygen in. The second one is only a little bit better.

"--Bu' how're we meant to know, Ed?"

It'll a take a little more than that to get his brain back to something calmer again.

"Do we have to know?"

It's an honest question. Honest questions have worked in the past. Let the matter be fleshed out and made solid, less terrifying in spoken words than inside the other young man's head.

"Yeah."

Honest questions get honest answers, at least. And honest answers will hopefully lead to conversation that can get him breathing more normally again.

"'Cause if-- truth 'sn't a thing, 'n that means there's no true anything, which means that even reality 'sn' true and if-- if nothing's real, Ed, then why does anything matter?"

His arms shift to get a little tighter. His chin settles a little more comfortably.

"We're real. 's the whole Descartes thing, right? We're real."

Start there before attacking truth, maybe.

"Nnn."

It's a sound argument. It gets him wriggling slightly; not to escape but to settle better in his friend's hold. It's easier to believe they're real when he can feel Edgar breathing.

"But wha' about-- everything else?"

Is all of humanity just collectively imagining all that they say exists?

Edited 2014-09-05 02:38 (UTC)

Settling in is a good sign. Settling in means they're having a proper conversation.

His hum is soft and fairly contemplative. "What, that everything else's real? Feels like a matter of trusting beyond comprehension."

"That's--"

The huff is frustrated, even if he doesn't shift away.

"Bu' what about thinkin' through everything?"

"What about it?"

His mind doesn't move as fast as Andrew's. His thoughts don't run as deep without prompting.

"Y'can't-- just trust." Not when it comes to the greater universal scheme of things, at least. He trusts the young man next to him immediately.

"Y've-- got to dig deep into thinking about stuff, otherwise th'whole-- Decartes thing would be wrong, too."

The trust between them is easily felt. It hasn't been shaken since before they were even eight years old.

"Why does it fall apart?"

"'cause if you don't think about things, then you-- aren't thinking, so you wouldn't be, right?"

It's a bit of an exaggeration, yes. It fits so well with how Andrew usually takes these sorts of things, though.

"Huh."

His chin shifts thoughtfully on Andrew's shoulder, temple pressing lightly against his best friend.

"What if you just... thought about other things?"

"Like what?"

It's incredibly difficult, after all, for him to turn his brain off and think of lighter things.

"Think about what a nice day it is." A simplistic beginning, yes, but where Edgar is prone to start. "Think about a good book you're reading just for fun. Think about Argine."

Easy thing. Happy things. Things to smile about.

Happy things. He can think happy, if he tries hard enough. If he gets gentle enough nudging from Edgar.

Hopefully his friend won't tease too much that it's mentioning Argine's name that eases the furrow between his brow.

"Does-- d'you think that-- counts?"

Teasing will happen later, surely. Teasing will come once everyone is back on solid ground.

But not yet. Now is still a matter of getting everyone warm and safe again.

"Of course it does. Still thinking, right? And-- feeling. You think about something that makes you feel, that's gotta be even better than just thinking."

"...Yeah."

It comes out slow, but it's accepting, as well. It's getting towards him being in a better place of mind.

"Yeah, 's-- 's true."

"Tell me, nn?" To make sure it was happening. To make sure they were both getting back to where they ought to be. "Tell me something about today that made you smile."

Words out loud made words inside a little easier.

There's a moment, to ponder on that. A slight shifting so he can burrow against his friend a little better.

"Made... made Rach an' 'gine laugh today."

Which was such a good thing. Would always be a good thing, particularly in his cousin's case.

"That-- that was nice."

It has Edgar smiling brightly. It's more than just a nice thing in Andrew's life, after all--it's a nice thing in four lives he cares about, including his own.

"Oh yeah? What'd you do?"

"Was just bein' silly."

Which is easy enough to admit to, curled up like this.

"Tell'n jokes'n stuff."

It's important. It's something that deserves a tighter squeeze of the other young man, as well as a briefly firm smack of a kiss to his friend's cheek.

"Perfect."

They all need it. They all need to laugh about nonsense.

But Andrew and Rachel need it much more.

There's a rough kiss to his cheek in return.

"Thanks."

"I love you, nerd."

Which meant thanks weren't completely necessary. Which meant it was time for a firm kiss back.

"C'mon." One hand unwinds to gently nudge the books away from his friend's reach. "Let's go find 'em, yeah?"

"'ll right."

Not that getting up is going to keep him from clinging just like this.

They can stay clinging together. If there weren't clinging, there would have been draping. Contact is a large part of Eicheln Counseling, after all.

"Got you. Promise."

"Know y'do."

Even with everything else so uncertain, he can trust that fact.

"Thanks, Ed."

There's a snort for that. There's also a tighter squeeze.

"Nothin' to thank me for. You'd do the same for me."

Or, more likely, pull him bodily out of a fight or drag his slightly intoxicated self home from a bar.

"Definitely would."

There's no question about it, no matter if it was dragging him away from a bar or a fight.

"Still. 'm grateful."

"Well, if you insist."

Then he would absolutely be getting a smack of a kiss on the cheek.

"I do."

And there's a kiss on the cheek back, of course.