Stone Circle i get so worried; i get so low

It's late, and he can't sleep. He blames it on a number of things; it's the biting cold, it's the newness of the place, it's the intermittent insomnia that has always been natural to him.
If he's honest with himself (he rarely is), he's thinking about Zamael. He wonders where he is — he wonders if he's even still alive. He wonders what he'll tell him, if he ever sees him again.
He trails along the outskirts of the territory, leaving his mark here and there as he halfheartedly patrols under the heavy cloak of night. It's an easy routine to fall into, even if the route feels alien and slightly unwelcoming to him; it's just not Broken Boulder. He glances skyward every so often, stealing glimpses at the starlit sky as he walks — the only connection he has anymore to those he'd loved. They'll always be under the same sky, at least; he can live with that.

His head was sore that evening and he couldn't sleep. A slight throbbing pain had blossomed in the back of his head. He decided to get up and walk it off. Granted that didn't seem to help much. He had contemplated returning back to the den but the scent of Alarian had lured him forth. The tables had turned it seemed.

Outlander halted and silently watched for a little bit. Stalker. He mentally commented to himself. So he decided he needed to make noise before Alarian possibly thought the same thing. Hey... He softly called out as he moved a bit closer, although he would understand if the attention was rejected. It was late after all. Perhaps he wanted to be left alone.

He's not necessarily surprised when a soft voice interrupts his thoughts; he'd thought he could smell Outlander nearby, but he'd dismissed it as wishful thinking. For a moment, he finds it irritatingly ironic that he's being followed by a guy who apparently takes such offense to being followed — but he's too tired and sad to linger on it. He pauses and turns slightly to look at his friend, chuffing a greeting.
You're up late, He murmurs when he's close enough, smiling a little wryly as if to acknowledge the irony of his own statement. His expression sobers a moment later, concerned and a touch anxious. Do you need anything? How are you feeling?

Yeah. He commented softly with a slow shrug of his broad shoulders, offering a half-smile to the ashed male. If allowed, he'd aim to bump his nose against Alarian's crown in a reassuring gesture. I'm alright. Little pain but it's nothing compared to what I was going through just a week ago. It's the truth and nothing but the whole truth. There was no tease in his tone tonight not even a devilish twinkle in his eye.

What has you up late? The large male asked with a slow sway of his tail. His peach gaze looked up towards the star-lined sky. It is rather late.

The touch startles him slightly, but it only shows in a brief widening of his eyes. He's quick to put it out of his mind, nodding in response to his friend's words. There is some relief in hearing that he's doing better — the last thing he needs is to lose another patient. He's not as enthused when the questioning turns on him, but he's spent long enough avoiding these kinds of things.
I'm just... thinking, He says, swallowing hard and glancing toward the stars. About someone who used to be important to me. He almost says more — but something stops him. Maybe it's the fact that it feels like a betrayal; it's one thing to think it, to know within himself that Zamael's place in his life is now used to be — and another entirely to say it. At least, it feels that way.

For some reason, Outlander wasn't completely shocked by the answer. Alarian seemed like a thinker. Granted the beefy male wasn't much of a thinker himself (see; wandering out alone while still healing) so he saw almost anyone but himself as a thinker.

You wanna talk about them? He asked softly, a more serious — yet still soft, warm and understanding — look on his masked features. The least he could do was offer an ear to the guy who was patching him up and even helped get him into a pack.

He sucks in a breath at the question, a little surprised — he shouldn't be, really. Anyone with half a brain would try to be nice to someone caring for them, especially given the fact that it seems Outlander doesn't remember much. The guilt suddenly strikes him full-force; at first he'd avoided telling him because it'd been best for him, he'd needed the care — but now... he's just taking advantage of him, isn't he?
Um, He swallows hard, gaze finding Outlander again briefly before it drops to the ground. Actually, there's something I should tell you — about how we know each other. Because um... it's pretty obvious you don't remember, I think. Unless, um — I'm wrong? He can't help sounding as if he very much hopes that's the case — because he does.

Outlander had almost forgot that he had forgotten a lot of things. How most things were a hazy blur. Some things more so than other. A soft O shape is formed by his inky lips at Alarian's words. Was he just trying to change the topics or was he actually concerned about their relation?

Something doesn't feel right. Like maybe you shouldn't be here but you are and I should appreciate that, right? He asked as he glanced at the tattered male from the corner of his eye. I mean...you helped me. If we hated each other or something that wouldn't happen. Or so he assumed with a jagged shrug of his shoulders.

He ignored talking about the warm feeling he got in his, erm, stomach because that was a weird topic to touch on.

He wants to die — or maybe not die, but sink into the ground and never return. This is awful. He's awful — and Outlander is going to hate him. Well, um, I mean... He takes another breath. We, um — we were... really friendly with each other. He shifts uncomfortably, resisting the urge to wince at how it sounds when he says really friendly; it's obvious what he means, and somehow that makes it feel crude.
But I um — the last time we saw each other before you — I was in a relationship, and we almost — He swallows, trying to figure out a sentence he actually wants to finish; it doesn't really work. My, uh — the other guy showed up and... everyone was pretty upset. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.

Oh. Well. He supposed that explained some of the feelings he felt at certain times. Granted he had never considered to act on them like he supposedly had one time. Then things got worse. A lot worse. Perhaps it was actually the worst things could have gotten.

Outlander felt sick with himself. Not because he boned a dude but because apparently he had almost boned that dude again while they were in a relationship. He did not recall the situation but he felt dizzy and sick with himself. The pain in his head seemed to amplify from where it had been earlier.

He pulls away and puts distance between them. So, uh uh — Fuck. His head really hurts and words are hard. Where is he? He asked while making sure he looked at the ground and not Alarian. This was weird and his everything was hurting and god he regretted not fucking listening and staying in the den this once.

His reaction is... pretty much what he'd expected, for once. He swallows again, his own gaze still fixed to the ground. He resists the urge to wince at Outlander's question, finding it a little cruel but unable to voice that now. He um... I left him, He says, voice breaking just slightly. Because I couldn't — I can't trust myself not to hurt him. And I didn't want to make us both miserable — so I left. And that's why I'm here.
He doesn't mention that he hopes to find him again one day; he doesn't mention that he still dreams about Delight sometimes. He just glances away uncomfortably, fixing his gaze on some distant object obscured by shadow.

He wants to vomit. From the pain in his head, from the sickness he feels towards himself, from the sheer awkwardness of everything. He tried his best to hold it all down though. After this conversation he would go empty the contents of his stomach elsewhere. You know...somewhere that isn't this nice new home he had because that would be unfair and just down right gross.

Oh. He said plainly and shuffled his large paws in the earth. Um, sorry for whatever I've done. His voice conveyed all of his discomfort and awkwardness with a soft sprinkling of pain somewhere in there.

Outlander knew he really fucked up and he was not sure what to do now. There was only so much standing, shuffling his weight, that he could do before things got too awkward.

He sucks in a breath, startled by the apology, and takes a couple steps closer to Outlander. No, I — you don't have to apologize, He tells him quietly, ears pinned back. It was my fault. I shouldn't have done that to either of you, and —
He pauses again, hating himself more with each moment. Do you um, want me to go? I-I understand if you do. It's all he can think to say — but he doesn't really want to go. He doesn't really think he can stand being alone. Well, no, that's a lie; he knows he can handle it, as he's always had to. He just hates it, and he wishes he could stop fucking everything up.

Outlander kind of stopped listening, in all honesty. The voice of Alarian was drowned out by the throbbing within the confine of his skulls and his own thoughts. He was sick of himself. He didn't really want to be here and —

Oh. Had he been asked something? His peach gaze fluttered towards the ashen form of his healer, friend, apparently former lover-of-some-sort. No, uh uh it's okay. It really was. Outlander came crashing in after all, Alarian had been here first.

My head hurts. He admitted softly with a hint of defeat in his tone. Is there anything back in the den?

The moment Outlander says his head hurts, it becomes obvious to him, and immediately he feels guilty for not noticing sooner. He nods slowly; he'd tentatively gathered some of the last blooming poppies and harvested their seeds for this exact reason, though he knows he'll run out long before they bloom again. Maybe his stash at Broken Boulder remains — that would be more useful than anything, but he can't be sure it's there, and it's not helpful now anyway.
Yeah, come on, He murmurs, turning to lead the way and trying not to look as guilty as he feels.

archiving

He nodded without another word. Perhaps he had hoped he wouldn't have needed the assistance of the smaller male but Outlander knew it was for the best. Left to his devices he would have ate anything and everything until the pain was gone. Or worse. But he shed those thoughts as he trailed after his healer.