Malcolm Bright (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
abrightboy) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
apocalypsehowcomm2022-01-04 01:12 pm
abrightboy) wrote in apocalypsehowcomm2022-01-04 01:12 pm
New Year, New You [OTA]
Who: Malcolm Bright and YOU
When: The first half of January.
Where: B1, ADI offices, around town.
Summary: Malcolm is aware that he has problems. Time to get rid of them for good! Because mental health works like that, right?!
Warnings: mental health struggles, vomit
There's a TV playing in the cafeteria at ADI when he goes down to get lunch after the new year. He's going to order soup; he already knows this. He's not even paying attention to the TV. He's lost in his own thoughts. But, as he waits in line, he changes his mind. Maybe he won't have soup after all. He's going to have a hamburger! And fries! Time to do like his mother says: stop all this nonsense. It's all in your head, Bright, he tells himself. That admonition is in a lot of people's voices from throughout his life.
He spends most of the afternoon in the men's room on that floor throwing up.
But Rome wasn't built in a day.
Back at B1 a few days later, he's staring at the tidy line of pill bottles on the kitchen counter. He's considering just throwing them away. He has to force himself to be normal; he can see it now.
At the coffee shop down the street, on another day, he orders his usual mocha and a big slice of chocolate cake. He'll try not to throw it up on the street but no promises. It takes time for a body to get used to new habits, is all. And if he's a little jittery, anxious, more unraveled than usual, well it's probably because he quit his meds cold turkey but he'll adapt. It's not to worry. He'll adapt.
Maybe he should stop relying on the restraints to sleep.
Maybe he should start going out to bars to meet people.
Maybe he should break curfew and crash with friends at Bonnie's.
Somebody stop him.
When: The first half of January.
Where: B1, ADI offices, around town.
Summary: Malcolm is aware that he has problems. Time to get rid of them for good! Because mental health works like that, right?!
Warnings: mental health struggles, vomit
There's a TV playing in the cafeteria at ADI when he goes down to get lunch after the new year. He's going to order soup; he already knows this. He's not even paying attention to the TV. He's lost in his own thoughts. But, as he waits in line, he changes his mind. Maybe he won't have soup after all. He's going to have a hamburger! And fries! Time to do like his mother says: stop all this nonsense. It's all in your head, Bright, he tells himself. That admonition is in a lot of people's voices from throughout his life.
He spends most of the afternoon in the men's room on that floor throwing up.
But Rome wasn't built in a day.
Back at B1 a few days later, he's staring at the tidy line of pill bottles on the kitchen counter. He's considering just throwing them away. He has to force himself to be normal; he can see it now.
At the coffee shop down the street, on another day, he orders his usual mocha and a big slice of chocolate cake. He'll try not to throw it up on the street but no promises. It takes time for a body to get used to new habits, is all. And if he's a little jittery, anxious, more unraveled than usual, well it's probably because he quit his meds cold turkey but he'll adapt. It's not to worry. He'll adapt.
Maybe he should stop relying on the restraints to sleep.
Maybe he should start going out to bars to meet people.
Maybe he should break curfew and crash with friends at Bonnie's.
Somebody stop him.
no subject
Oh, dear. This is still a human corporation, isn't it? Hasn't started cracking at the seams all of a sudden? He looks down at himself and then back up when it all seems in order. Takes another step back just to be polite.
"I'm so sorry to have, um. Startled you. Imposed. Whichever one. Last thing I intended, I assure you."
This is what he gets for-- something. Probably. He's sure. Standing too close to the door, maybe. Not studying up on blending in better.
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Akwardly, he tries to lever himself up from the floor beside the toilet.
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The thing about this world people keep getting drawn into is, it's quite spooky and defies traditional reality conventions. He can't imagine it's a wonderful place to have that sort of problem.
"Would you-- is it alright if I help you up? Less time on the floor, the better."
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Once on his feet, he’s not entirely steady. And the man still has Martinface.
“What’s… um. What’s your name?” he asks. “Are you staying at the ADI apartments?”
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Only the first one of those is really true. It would be rude to say that, though. Aziraphale maintains a respectful hovering distance in case the unsteadiness proves a bit too much.
"Aziraphale. Pleased to, to make your acquaintance, Malcolm. I believe I've taken up in... apartment block D?" He has never lived in a place that could be referred to as an apartment block before. It's novel. The nice way to say strange. "Haven't quite made the rounds to greet all our neighbors yet, if I'm honest."
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Not his fault, he has that face. He's been very nice.
"Um. Would it be a huge imposition to ask you to walk me up there now? Because I'm not really... feeling up to work right now."
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Aziraphale can't recall the last time he heard a comment about his name one way or the other. That's-- neat. Epic is generally more good than bad.
To say nothing for the very kind offer of future hospitality. What a nice young man.
"And I don't consider it an imposition at all. Better to rest up in your own bed than, well." What's a less judgmental way to say 'a public restroom'? It's a fine enough restroom, very clean, nothing personal. "Anyway, I'm more than happy to escort you."
Two birds, one stone. He'll feel a bit better knowing Malcolm is ostensibly in a comfortable place. Office matters can wait.
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He starts heading for the door, but has to brace himself on the doorway for a moment, then takes a deep breath and nods and steps out into the hall.
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"Not to put too fine a point on things, but this 'transition' of yours seems to be awfully hard on you so far."
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Strange to hear something you've so very thoroughly never heard in over six thousand years.
"That does explain why you were so startled." It's probably poor form to make an apology for being partly hallucinated. Worst case scenario for that would be Malcolm feeling bad and apologizing back, which simply isn't on. "If there's anything I can do that might help, um. Send it on its way. Do let me know."
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When you don't want to pry into a perfectly nice human's personal business because it would be extremely rude, but also don't want them to think you're not listening to them.
"Tried mutton-chops for a bit. But it's a bit finnicky, facial hair. Too itchy."
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“You might be the most polite person I’ve ever met,” he observes.
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"I'll take that as a compliment and thank you for it." There are worse things to be than the most polite. It's like a little badge of honor for a long-practiced skill.
"Frankly speaking, given how poorly you must feel," and the inherent awkwardness of hallucinating your father's face, which he does not add, "you're remarkably well-mannered yourself. I've seen people much tetchier over much less."
no subject