revivalproject | Who Needs Sleep

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Who Needs Sleep

WHO: Tommy Shepherd, Billy Hargrove, Open
WHERE: Temba Greenhouse, Temba Diner, Temba Area
WHAT: Searching for Billy Kaplan
WHEN: First Day back on Temba, through all of February
WARNINGS: cw: abandonment issues, possible borderline self destructive behavior (in a physical sense)

I. Wearing Out Shoe Leather | Open

At first he let himself believe the absence wasn't an absence so much as the worst form of hide and seek ever. It would be just like his brother to do something like that after all. To have his communication device away from him, or to be talking to the Agrii and not looking it over, or maybe just his brother being temporarily unavailable. Hell, Tommy had even gone down into the under areas of engineering to try and check the tubes there.

And now that he was back on the surface of Temba, well, he was no longer having any damn fun with this game. Because... Because it needs to be okay.

Otherwise...

No. No, he's not going to think about the otherwise, alright? Instead there's a blur of speed throughout all of Temba. It stops here and there, like a humming bird flitting from flower to flower for food. Stops are brief, either to whip up a quick meal in the diner, or to search delicately through plants and trees and fragile ruins. All the while his voice tears through the air, calling the same series of names over and over, seeking, hoping, unable to give up.

"Billy! Billiam! Wiccan! Punk! Where are you?!"

Don't let him be alone. Please, don't... Don't let him be alone again.

II. Comfort In You | Closed to Billy Hargrove

He's tired. So tired. How long had it been since he'd eaten? Since he'd slept? Tommy frankly doesn't know. What he does know is that he goes to the only place that feels safe in his undeniable despair. On some level he remembers the feeling of sand on his bare feet, the result of him running enough to run his shoes to pieces. He remembers the door. Pushing it open. Moving to the bed. Collapsing onto it with a pathetic noise that he'll never admit he made.

Safe. His mind says he's safe. That Billy will be here, sooner or later. Not the one he sought. The other one. The one who will hold him and tell him he's not alone. That he won't be alone. Even if he was. Even if he had lost the other part of his soul (part of the other part of his soul), he would still have someone who cared.

So he needed this.

III. Burning the All Hours Oil | Open

Who needed sleep anyway? There was this whole fucking world to explore. Things to be done. Places to clean up or restore. Plants to be tended. The plants still needed him. People still needed him for food, right? Right. Yeah.

That's why it's three in the morning and he's hand examining every plant in the cumato area, checking the budding leaves for health. Nearby a few Funfronds seem to linger, trying to get his attention with their dancing, but he ignores them. Just focuses as he moves slowly from plant to plant. From spot in the soil to spot in the soil.

HE's been here for hours. Before this he'd been in the diner and cleaned every last surface and every last utensil. Before that it had been dusting in the Civics Center. Before that catching lobsters on the beach. Before that...

God he can't even remember. Hours were blurring together, as much because of his powers as because he was losing himself. His focus, his drive. Strange to think a lot more of it had depended on one person than he was prepared for. Two people now.

But the sleepiness is not good for him, clearly. Because the second he hears someone approaching he flinches. And flinching from a speedster isn't good. Why? Because between one moment and the next he's no longer standing where he was. He's several feet back, a trowel held up before him like it was a weapon meant to defend himself. His eyes are blurry, red from crying, and definitely not entirely there. Like he's lost.

Maybe he is.

"What do you want?" he snaps when he realizes it isn't danger that's facing him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"All the time? No, I don't." A hesitation. "But I know what it is to lose the person you love most."

Worse, I know what it is to be responsible for it.

"I try not to love," Tommy grumbles to himself. He doesn't really want to love people, doesn't want to lose them.

"And does that work for you?" All of this happening tonight shows it does not, but he's leaving it to Tommy to explain.

No. His face contorts in pain. He keeps on loving. And it never works.

"I can fucking try."

"... You remind me of Cloud," he finally admits. "So angry, so full of pain, all from loving too much." And refusing to face what's really bothering him.

Tommy flinches back at that comment. He didn't want to be like someone else. He wanted to be him. His existence was half in mimicry of another person, and half to be the counterpart to yet another person. Of course he's angry, of course he's full of pain.

"Yeah, well that comes with the life I've lived."

Sephiroth doesn't know any of that and he misses Cloud, so he's likely to see Cloud-like behavior more often than not, just as some people also remind him of Zack.

"It's hard to think of a worse pain than losing someone." Unless guilt and blame are added on to that. "But I have never met anyone who was truly happy being alone. As much as it hurts to lose someone, is it worth trying to avoid that pain by not loving, not caring?"

He supposes Tommy will insist it is. But he hopes to at least plant a seed for thought, if nothing else.

"Yes," Tommy snaps, just as expected. Because it hurts too much to believe in anything else at the moment.

It's an old wound reopened too many times. Practically salted.

Sephiroth nods. Just as he had expected. "You intend to keep trying that then." There's little point in arguing about it in Tommy's state.

He debates what to do. He hates to leave Tommy alone in this condition, but he's pretty sure he's not welcome.

He looks to the garden. "How much more do you have to inspect?" He could help, perhaps, if it's not complicated to learn. He only knows a few things here and there from Zack's friend Aerith.

"So many," Tommy sighs, looking around. "I'm basically the sole serious farmer here for everyone to feed from. The little plant people help some, but damn..."

He's been doing this alone for years. So many yearse.

"That is a large responsibility," Sephiroth remarks. "Is it complicated to inspect the plants?" He doubts he would have time for very in-depth lessons, yet on the other hand, learning Tommy is the only one really working here is concerning. He needs help.

"I mean, yeah. Because you've got to know what is plant and what is not, and which insects are good and bad. I've had the agricultural point to help me. Barely had more than five minutes off of it ever."

Since the word go he's been doing everything he can to give himself, his energy, his time, to other peoplec.

Ah, the datapoint. Of course. Sephiroth ponders, not really wanting to switch datapoints but still wanting to find a solution.

"And no one else has that datapoint?"

He frowns too as he thinks on how much Tommy really is trying to help others, in spite of whatever words he spews to the contrary. It bothers him that for all his trying to find ways to help, he didn't realize how great the need is in this area.

Of course, ever since he arrived, it seems other chaos has been going on, like the murders and the zombies and being off-world.

"Nope. In the whole time I've been here there have been, maybe, a grand total of four of us?"

And he's been the only consistent one, since the day the datapoints became active again.

But he's used to it by now. His is the greatest appetite on the planet, he should be the one doing the most work. It makes sense to him.

"Hm. Does Radley help you?"

He knows Radley doesn't want a datapoint, but he wonders if Radley might know enough about food to help here regardless. He's thinking of telling Radley the need for more help here.

"Nah. Honestly, without someone with Agricultural around to help, it doesn't work well," he admits with a shrug. "Cooking is one thing. Growing things and knowing what is a weed or not and all that stuff is really hard. There's too much here."

And so Tommy works his ass off on his own.

"I see," Sephiroth frowns. "Yes, it looks ... very complex."

Suddenly the greenhouse seems so much bigger.

Yeah, it's huge in its own way. He sighs and shakes his head. So much work to be done.

"I spend most of the nights here."

He frowns at that. "When do you sleep?"

He has to sometime or he wouldn't be alive.

"When I'm tired," Tommy answered with a shrug. "I only need four hours in every 24. And it's a thirty hour day. I've got plenty of time to be awake when no one else is."

"You look like you're tired now," Sephiroth flatly remarks.

Yeah, well, fuck him. In fact, enjoy the middle finger the speedster offers.

"You wouldn't know sleepy if it bit you."

Sephiroth certainly isn't a stranger to lack of sleep and isn't fully sure how long he's been up now. (His eyes are bloodshot.) But he sees no point in arguing about it. Especially when Tommy's response looks like just another petulant insult.

"Is that how you respond to anyone who expresses concern for your well-being?"

"Yes," he says, with a shrug. Literally hiding nothing. He's an asshole and he knows it.

"And is that another way you're trying to drive people away so you won't have to care about them?" he flatly asks.

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