KORBIN
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
To make you bow and spit it out?
If the bond that linked the Attuned had been open, Chulane would have been privy to everything that went on inside the boy at that moment. Perhaps it was a good thing they were both closed off, both trapped in their human selves, cut off from one another. At least this way, Korbin couldn't drown anyone else. That had never been his intention. He never wanted to hurt anyone. Just... wanted to be left alone.
But not even now, here, in the midst of a breakdown was he granted that. It was ironic, really. All the world offered to him, and the few things he genuinely desired, he was not granted. His family. The music. Something that stayed when no one and nothing else ever did.
How long did he cry, with that quiet spectator leering down upon him? Another violation. Korbin hated having an audience to his private emotions. He had worn a mask of smiles and cheer ever since he was a kid to make the people around him relax. Because he liked to see them laugh, and so they wouldn't ask questions. Weaver... she had always seen through it though. Ever since they were kids. She was the only one who knew exactly what went on inside him, more surely than even Erebor could. Their mum had left too early, his father died too soon. He had protected himself from the pain by smiling and pushing on, by pulling himself up by the collar to move on, grow up, pick up the burdens left behind. One after another. More and more.
Until he couldn't contain it all anymore. Until the mask cracked and the smile faded, and all that was left inside was an oozing, festering wound that had him roaring in pain.
How long did he cry? How long did he howl into the pillow, smothering his own hoarse screams? It was not the first time Korbin cried like this. Not the first night he lay awake, drowning. That's what the booze was for. To knock himself out... at least at first. Then the buzz eased the numbness. Or dulled the emotions. Both. Neither. Nothing actually helped, because even when the gasping convulsions slowed and ceased, the pain was still there.
And Chulane wielded a stick, jabbed it right back inside that wound, asking for more. He struggled to breathe through a clogged nose, couldn't see for the swelling of the eyes - red rimmed, puffy, painful and inflamed and getting worse with every fat teardrop that pushed through, hot as blood - and as he curled in on himself again, in the midst of another shuddering gasp there was a spark of rage.
He wanted to hear more? Fine, let him hear all of it.
"She left. Went off on her own to fight a fucking Ursur, even though I was right there." It was a snarl, a wolf's growl through gritted teeth, half muffled by the pillow, by shielding hands that tried to hide his ruin from sight. There was no mistaking the twist of his face though. "She said it would be us. Us against the world, and she wouldn't leave. Not like the others, she would stay and we would make it work, and then she left. Off through the fucking portal. To fucking outlanders who used her for their own gain, who didn't care that it changed everything for us both."
It was old poison, old anger, but it still burned in him. The smoke billowing all the blacker because of the rancour it contained. And he couldn't stop chewing it over, letting it sink in, fester, turn to hate. Pawing at his face - oh, it was such a ruin - Korbin sniffled furiously and sat up, fists clenched as he stared at Chulane, seeing and yet not seeing. It wasn't him there, it was everything but him. Faces, moments. And beneath it all, that roaring pit that rose up to swallow him. How he longed for it. How he feared to let it consume him.
"She said it was us, but after she opened that fucking bar it was only ever about her. I never wanted it and she knew that, but how was I supposed to leave her to handle it alone? She said she wanted me there, so I stayed. She told me I should do what made me happy, but she never listened when I told her the only thing I needed was her. Don't you get it? All I ever wanted, or needed, or wished for was for her to be there. Everything else was secondary. I didn't love any of it but I did it anyway because of her. Because if I didn't she would be hurt, or hungry, or too tired to do what made her smile. And... a-and all I ever wanted was to see her.. see her smile..."
And he crumbled to pieces again, voice breaking, fading, the anger lost in another tidal wave of realization.
He would never see her smile again.
But not even now, here, in the midst of a breakdown was he granted that. It was ironic, really. All the world offered to him, and the few things he genuinely desired, he was not granted. His family. The music. Something that stayed when no one and nothing else ever did.
How long did he cry, with that quiet spectator leering down upon him? Another violation. Korbin hated having an audience to his private emotions. He had worn a mask of smiles and cheer ever since he was a kid to make the people around him relax. Because he liked to see them laugh, and so they wouldn't ask questions. Weaver... she had always seen through it though. Ever since they were kids. She was the only one who knew exactly what went on inside him, more surely than even Erebor could. Their mum had left too early, his father died too soon. He had protected himself from the pain by smiling and pushing on, by pulling himself up by the collar to move on, grow up, pick up the burdens left behind. One after another. More and more.
Until he couldn't contain it all anymore. Until the mask cracked and the smile faded, and all that was left inside was an oozing, festering wound that had him roaring in pain.
How long did he cry? How long did he howl into the pillow, smothering his own hoarse screams? It was not the first time Korbin cried like this. Not the first night he lay awake, drowning. That's what the booze was for. To knock himself out... at least at first. Then the buzz eased the numbness. Or dulled the emotions. Both. Neither. Nothing actually helped, because even when the gasping convulsions slowed and ceased, the pain was still there.
And Chulane wielded a stick, jabbed it right back inside that wound, asking for more. He struggled to breathe through a clogged nose, couldn't see for the swelling of the eyes - red rimmed, puffy, painful and inflamed and getting worse with every fat teardrop that pushed through, hot as blood - and as he curled in on himself again, in the midst of another shuddering gasp there was a spark of rage.
He wanted to hear more? Fine, let him hear all of it.
"She left. Went off on her own to fight a fucking Ursur, even though I was right there." It was a snarl, a wolf's growl through gritted teeth, half muffled by the pillow, by shielding hands that tried to hide his ruin from sight. There was no mistaking the twist of his face though. "She said it would be us. Us against the world, and she wouldn't leave. Not like the others, she would stay and we would make it work, and then she left. Off through the fucking portal. To fucking outlanders who used her for their own gain, who didn't care that it changed everything for us both."
It was old poison, old anger, but it still burned in him. The smoke billowing all the blacker because of the rancour it contained. And he couldn't stop chewing it over, letting it sink in, fester, turn to hate. Pawing at his face - oh, it was such a ruin - Korbin sniffled furiously and sat up, fists clenched as he stared at Chulane, seeing and yet not seeing. It wasn't him there, it was everything but him. Faces, moments. And beneath it all, that roaring pit that rose up to swallow him. How he longed for it. How he feared to let it consume him.
"She said it was us, but after she opened that fucking bar it was only ever about her. I never wanted it and she knew that, but how was I supposed to leave her to handle it alone? She said she wanted me there, so I stayed. She told me I should do what made me happy, but she never listened when I told her the only thing I needed was her. Don't you get it? All I ever wanted, or needed, or wished for was for her to be there. Everything else was secondary. I didn't love any of it but I did it anyway because of her. Because if I didn't she would be hurt, or hungry, or too tired to do what made her smile. And... a-and all I ever wanted was to see her.. see her smile..."
And he crumbled to pieces again, voice breaking, fading, the anger lost in another tidal wave of realization.
He would never see her smile again.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Nothing makes you turn around
