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Tweak says, "it says "bikini inspector"!"

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indian kate moss (krishna) wrote,
@ 1970-01-01 15:51:00

lievsay: hanging out in london.

Hanging out with Gus Lievsay honestly wasn’t something Krishna could have predicted for himself, even if he had been talking with the guy more frequently of late. The fact remained, after all, that Gus and he were very different kinds of people - and more specifically, Gus shared a lot of characteristics with the kinds of people who didn’t tend to like Krishna very much, for a lot of reasons. But if Krishna had been massively nervous about their planned meet up beforehand, he gradually relaxed into it once they met up. Because while Gus had seemed a bit stilted at first, he loosened up, too, until it was clear (or at least mostly clear) that Krishna wasn’t invading his space or his time or being too Krishna at him.

Which was how they wound up at Gus’ place after an unexpectedly long day walking around London. They were both a little damp from the rain, and therefore a bit chillier than they probably would have been otherwise, and so after shaking the water from his coat, hanging it up, and toeing off his shoes, Krishna offered to make tea. The flat was small enough that it wasn’t a mystery where the kitchen was, and Gus didn’t offer up any objections as Krishna made his way there. The cupboards were fairly bare, but there was enough for tea fixings: a couple chipped mugs, a kettle, and, most importantly, Tetleys.

While waiting for the water to boil, Krishna pushed himself up to sit on the counter, heels knocking idly against the bottom cupboards. “How long’ve you been here, again?” he asked, looking over at Gus with interest.

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lievsay
2015-11-29 12:19 am UTC (link)

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There was an ease about being around Krishna that Gus appreciated. The first time they’d met, he’d found the younger singer’s high energy to be too much in the backstage environment. Now, well, he found there to be something comforting about it all. As if Krishna’s energy, even mellowed out, suited him.

That he’d invited him back to his flat was a testament to how comfortable he felt with him. In the past couple of days (week?) he’d found himself saying more to Krishna than he had to other ‘strangers’ in some time. But that was just how Gus was. He either let you in or he kept you out with little room in-between.

To say his place was modest was the understatement of the year. There was very little outside of equipment, odds and ends, and two bare bones bedrooms. Gus didn’t find this embarrassing, it was more than he’d ever owned in his life. He’d set to work re-stringing his guitar when they got back, and didn’t mind when Krishna made himself at home. When Krishna posed the question, he looked up from the leather couch and shrugged a little. “My brother has been here for a year, I’ve been here for…” when he tried to count the days they all blended together. “Less than two weeks?” His fingers strummed at the guitar. Amos was at work today, but he hadn’t heard from him in hours and that was a concern. He did his best not to let it show. “Bit mad when you think of it like that, huh?” He tested out the Blues riff. “Your sister would have a fit in here, wouldn’t she?” A smile cracked at the thought.

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krishna
2015-11-29 12:47 am UTC (link)

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“Yeah, a whirlwind,” Krishna agreed, grinning. “Leela’s opinion shouldn’t really be counted, though,” he huffed. The roll of his eyes was fond. “She’s really fussy and has high standards for everything.”

Gus’ current life, however, wasn’t as far from his realm of experience as perhaps others might have guessed. Despite his own family’s undeniable wealth, Krishna had refused to accept any monetary assistance from them after he’d left home, insisting instead on setting out on his own. This, of course, meant that he had wound up in some true shitholes - and with some exceedingly questionable characters, at that. For his first few years on his own, he’d refused to let any of his family visit any of his places (and that had been a real feat, considering how nosy his sister was especially). He wasn’t put off, then, by the bareness of Gus’ place; he was as comfortable with his surroundings as he always was, which was to say that he never had much trouble acting like himself no matter where he was.

The kettle whistled, and he hopped down from the counter to turn off the stove. A minute later, he was carefully carrying two mugs of tea over to Gus. Instead of sitting down on the couch alongside him, he instead sat down directly on the floor and crossed his spindly legs. He took a sip from his mug, hissed at how hot the water was, and put it back down on the floor to deliberately let it cool off a bit. “So what’s your brother do when he’s not drumming for you?” he asked, head tipped to one side as he watched Gus fiddle around with the guitar.

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lievsay
2015-11-29 03:43 am UTC (link)

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The curl of Gus’ lips held for a moment longer at the picture Krishna painted of his sister, before the strings pulled his gaze back down. There was something about listening to the way other people spoke of their families that gave him great warmth. Every couple plucks and the note went sour, but Gus could breeze through a tuning with the best of them. His actual attention was on Krishna, it was only his eyes that weren’t. When his new friend sat on the floor opposite him, he was struck with the thought that he was his first guest. That he fit in so comfortably where most might’ve made awkward small talk about the sparse decorations, made him feel at peace with the thought. This was safe. Krishna was safe.

The question about his brother gave him pause and a certain kind of stillness ran through him. What did his brother do when he wasn’t drumming for him? There were many reporters that had described him as a stone wall, but he’d always thought himself the expressive one of the family. Minute changes in his posture, his brow, or the heaviness of the eyes could say more than a frown or tears ever could. Instinctually, his eyes flickered to the flip phone he’d tossed on a simple slat coffee table. Nothing. “Odd jobs. Lays brick. Bit of plumbing. Chases skirts. Charms his way outta trouble.” Gus had always been soft spoken, but there was an added layer of affection in his tone when he spoke of Amos. For all his brother’s problems, he loved him deeply, and it was easy to surmise from his tone.

A meow announced the arrival of Maybelle. “Ah there she is.” Gus’ face lit up at the sight of the skinny cat. She meowed again, then rubbed herself against Krishna’s arm. “Krishna, Maybelle, Maybelle, Krishna.” As the strings came together, Gus teased out a few notes from the chorus of Take Shelter. He worried for a moment, that he was proving to be boring company, and added, “I suppose I could start that mix for you, yeah?” His headed nodded toward the record player console. Fifty or so vinyl lined a bookshelf otherwise full of used and worn paperbacks.

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krishna
2015-11-29 03:58 am UTC (link)

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Gus was hard to read, mostly, especially since Krishna hadn’t spent a significant amount of time with him in person, but it was still easy to see the fondness he had for his brother. It was written there, albeit somewhat subtly, over Gus’ features. “He sounds cool,” Krishna said, smiling widely. “And by that I mean he sounds like me before this whole music thing took off. Minus chasing skirts, obviously.”

Maybelle seemed to appear out of nowhere, and Krishna was delighted by her sudden presence. “Hey, cat,” he said softly, lifting his hand so that she could sniff delicately at it for a moment. A moment later, he pet her from the crown of her head down her back, reveling in the reflexive arch of her spine. “She’s beautiful,” he said, glancing up at Gus. And she proved to be friendly, as well, which Krishna took full advantage of. He was pet-starved, though he’d never had a pet growing up, and therefore he was thoroughly pleased when, as he was lying on his back on the ground, Maybelle felt free to climb on top of his chest and then sit primly on his stomach.

“Hey, don’t feel like you’ve gotta entertain me,” he said when he realized Gus was rooting for things to do. “This is, like, my favorite thing. Sitting around doing nothing with people I like. Oh,” he said, remembering. He scratched behind one of Maybelle’s ears. “Can I smoke? I don’t have to. Just asking, like. What’ve you been listening to on repeat lately?” he continued, since Gus was already up by his record player and vinyl collection.

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lievsay
2015-11-29 04:21 am UTC (link)

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Cool was a word Amos had been referred to most of his life. Gus couldn’t say the same for himself. Wasn’t even the most talented musician in the family, just the luckiest. Since Krishna didn’t press for more details, he let conversation of his brother dissipate, and focused on the bright spot of orange crawling over Krishna. The sight pulled him out of any stillness or anxiousness he had, and he found his shoulders were less tense when he turned toward his vinyl.

“Yeah, of course, let me crack open the window.” Gus gave the window a good shove, and felt the crisp cool of late fall filter in. The rain had eased, but for this time of year, the weather was more pleasant than dreadful. He reveled in it for a moment, before he gave Krishna’s question any bit of mind. “Dinah Washington. Always Dinah Washington. I can love anyone, but if she covered their music, it’s always my favourite version.” There was a level of passion to which he spoke when music was brought up. A current of excitement pulsated under his thick Cajun Irish accent, and he buzzed a little from the feel of the 45 in his hand as he gently placed it on the deck. “I love Bessie Smith, I really do, but nobody sings ‘Backwater Blues’ like Dinah.”

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krishna
2015-11-29 04:31 am UTC (link)

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“Cool, thanks,” Krishna said, already fishing for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “You want one?” This time, his words were slightly distorted, as he’d cupped his hand around his mouth to light up. He wasn’t sure if Gus smoked or not, and he was, since their last virtual conversation, conscious of the fact that Gus seemed to try to be abstaining from certain vices. Still, it felt rude not to at least offer, so he did. A moment later, he was distracted by Dinah Washington, and by Gus’ reply. Krishna stayed quiet to listen, both to Gus’ voice and to Dinah’s. This was nice, he realized. It had really been a long time since he’d gotten to do anything like this. Of course he’d had days off during the past year, but they’d been few and far between; he missed lazy evenings like this.

He reached up to pick a speck of tobacco from his tongue, eyebrows slanted slightly together not in negativity but rather in appreciation. “I try to listen to lots of stuff,” he said, staring up at the ceiling, “but I’m really clueless about so many things still. I like this a lot.” That sort of went without saying, but he said it anyway, offering Gus a broad smile.

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lievsay
2015-11-29 04:51 am UTC (link)

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Now that there were only a few shows left for the year, having a cigarette didn’t seem like that big of a deal, so Gus uncharacteristically accepted Krishna’s offer. The idea of a pull of nicotine appealed to part of him that couldn’t help but think his brother hadn’t shown up for work. “Yeah, hold on, let me put on an album.” Gus placed the 45 back in its home, and slipped out another Dinah Washington record then dropped the needle. The beginning notes of Since I Fell For You brought him to the spot on the floor Krishna and Maybelle had claimed.

“We listened mostly to gospel growing up, but my father would sneak me these records.” That same fondness he felt for his brother made an appearance at the mention of his father. “They’re a bit like introducing you to an old mate, really.” While he knew there was something a little sad about it, his tone didn’t suggest that he needed pity. No, Gus had a glow about him when spoke. After he’d retrieved a cigarette from Krishna, he lit up and leaned back on the floor a few feet from the other musician. The wear and tear of tour had drained him, but he found contentment and ease in that moment. Dinah’s voice, the soft feel of the carpet beneath his limbs, the dim lighting of the low-watt bulbs, the comfort of Krishna’s presence... “Do you have any music like that?” He asked, after a steady stream of smoke exhaled from his lips. His head rolled to the side to examine Krishna's striking profile.

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	lievsay 2015-11-29 04:55 am UTC (link) Select
	Since I Fell For You (Reply to this)(Parent) (Thread)

krishna
2015-11-29 05:09 am UTC (link)

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While waiting for Gus to come back over, Krishna busied himself with carefully fetching another cigarette for him. Maybelle seemed to have grown comfortable enough with her place on his stomach that, after circling around a couple times, she settled in more solidly, curling up with her front paws tucked underneath herself. Charmed, Krishna tried not to move too much and annoy her into leaving. She seemed terribly affectionate, but he’d always been more comfortable with dogs than cats, and he wasn’t sure whether she was easily put off. In any case, she didn’t move, even when Krishna reached up to hand Gus his cigarette.

“That’s awesome,” Krishna said genuinely, eyes slightly wider in his earnestness as Gus explained how he’d started listening to Dinah. “That he introduced you to this other stuff. I know what you mean…” He took a contemplative drag from his own cigarette, thinking about it for a moment. “There’s a lot of music that brings me back to, like, really specific times in my life. I can’t hear that Laura Marling album I Speak Because I Can without going back to being all broke and depressed and lonely living on my own for the first time away from my family.” He smiled when he related this, which was reflex; in truth, it had been a difficult time, though he had made the decision to forge ahead alone. During another brief pause, Dinah’s voice filtered between them. Krishna turned his head to the side, meeting Gus’ eyes, corners of his mouth still curling upwards. “My family used to listen to a lot of old Hindi and Marathi film songs. Hearing Lata Mangeshkar’s voice is like…” He shook his head slightly, huffing out a breath of laughter. “I feel really protective of that stuff, and the stuff my mum used to sing to us. I like sharing it with people, but it makes me nervous, too, cos like, I’m always worried people’ll shake it off or turn their noses up at it or something. Because it’s not… You know. It’s not what they’re used to. It’s not Western.”

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lievsay
2015-11-29 05:36 am UTC (link)

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Maybelle was an argument for the idea that there was more to animals than just a base set of instincts. She read moods, and she knew when she was safe. Skinny as Krishna was, she seemed to have found her spot on him, and if Krishna wasn’t careful, she wouldn’t let him up for hours. Having a cat wasn’t anything he’d predicted for himself, but leave it to Amos to scoop up the cat and lay all the responsibility onto him. Fortunately, Maybelle was some kind of other worldly creature. Everyone he toured with fell in love with her, and he’d become more attached than he would’ve liked to have. She gave him calm.

An affectionate smile pulled at the ends of his mouth at the mention of Lily’s name. Gus took a drag instead of sharing the story right away. A good call since Krishna brought up his family again, and Gus found that to be much more interesting and worthy of his attention than his own past. Their eyes locked, and Gus didn’t shy away in the way he usually did. With every passing hour they’d spent together, Gus had allowed his walls to come down brick by brick, and here and now, he felt comfortable enough to be completely present; to look at Krishna openly.

Gus related to that feeling, and the notion reached his eyes before he ever bothered to speak about it. “That’s sort of how I feel about gospel music, or field recordings. They’re not the sort of thing you just openly share because of the nostalgia and the distinct nature of the music. Someone like Dinah, maybe she’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but she’s an easier introduction. There’s still something special about listening to music a person finds meaningful though, yeah? Sometimes I’ll like a song just cos of the shared experience or the story behind it. If you have any records of Lata Mangeshkar, you should bring them over.” As odd as his accent was, he’d always been able to nail pronunciation of unfamiliar names with great ease. He’d meant what he’d said too. Then again, he’d been fond of the few Bollywood films he’d seen if only for the music.

Another drag followed. “Lily’s really lovely. There was a time in my life where she’d bring me a sandwich from her studio and listen to me sing choir songs on the street corner outside it. Funny world, innit? What changed for you then? What really pulled you out of all of that?” When Gus shared his stories, or pried into Krishna’s life, he never spoke with judgement. Krishna’s struggles were just as dire to Krishna as Gus’ struggles were to himself. He wasn’t the sort to compare or one up. At the start of Tell Me Why, he left the cigarette between his lips and reached out to stroke along Maybelle’s spine gently.

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krishna
2015-11-29 05:50 am UTC (link)

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“I think so,” Krishna agreed, nodding when Gus commented on finding music that meant something to another person inherently meaningful. “And like, I really want to believe that other people approach things the same way, but that’s not been the case in my experience.” Then again, he reasoned with himself, it wasn’t like he had a track record for hanging out with stellar human beings. “I will, though,” he said, smile renewing itself over his expression. “Next time. It’ll be like show and tell.” He made a muffled noise of surprise, something close to a yelp, when Maybelle kneaded at his chest for a moment - he was ticklish, but at least he managed not to throw the cat off of himself. Besides, he was distracted by Gus’ story about Lily.

Eyebrows lifted, Krishna let out a low, quick breath. “No shit, really? That’s insane! Seriously, whoa. That’s unbelievable. Do you guys still keep in touch? Like, do you talk all the time and stuff?” He realized, belatedly, that he needed an ashtray. Luckily, he found one in his mostly empty mug, which was within arm’s reach, and he pushed it so that it was between himself and Gus before he tapped his cigarette against the rim of it.

“Oh, ehm,” Krishna started, brow furrowing slightly again. “Just, you know. Things are constantly changing, right? It’s not like I’m constantly stuck in these, like, black moods or anything.” He laughed, rubbing at his eyebrow with the knuckle of his thumb. “And now, well. It’s not like I’ll be having to struggle to make rent or anything any time soon. I get to do what I love all the time, as cliché as that is to say. Anyway, back then I just had to get used to that new period of my life that I’d shoved myself into. It was good for me, I think. I needed to learn how to be independent from my family, even if I was still a fucking mess. Er, am still a fucking mess.” He wrinkled his nose, expression sheepishly amused, and took another deep drag. “Have you explored the neighborhood yet? Like, do you know the best coffee shop and deli and stuff?”

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lievsay
2015-11-29 06:43 am UTC (link)

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There was a narrative that seemed to haunt Krishna, but Gus didn’t think it was his place to be any more invasive about it than he’d already been. The expression he bore was one of disappointment for Krishna when he suggested that it wasn’t always the case that these experiences were mutually meaningful, but he reached for nothing more. He lifted his hand away from Maybelle to retrieve his cigarette. A couple of ashes, and before he could take another drag, Krishna yelped and gave Gus a soft chuckle. Krishna was fit. Gus only allowed the thought to be brief before he washed it away with nicotine.

Lily was easy to focus on. She was a bright beacon amongst a sea of dark memories. “Not all the time, but we touch base, yeah. Been there in stops and starts for one another.” Did their profession leave much room for anything more?

Gus stroked Maybelle once more before retracting his hand to lay above his head. The night had evolved into the kind of thing he’d really needed. The last few weeks his connections with others had begun to fray from distance, exhaustion, or too much time together. Krishna was open to connection in a way that Gus marveled at. He wondered if everyone felt this at ease with the young singer. Eyes shifted to the ceiling when Krishna switched from talking about himself to posing a question. The latter action usually was meant to bury the admittance that came before it, or, at least it always was when Gus did it. “Maybe you’re at the verge of—“ the buzzer cut him off, and gave him pause. Seemed late for a delivery, and people didn’t often ‘pop by’ to see him. “… another new period. Sorry, I’m not expecting anyone.” Brow furrowed in confusion, he put out his cigarette, got on his feet and went to the door.

“Yeah?” Gus said into the speaker.
A thick Irish brogue came back with, “Oy, found your brother, and I’m leaving him on the steps.”

That wasn’t what Gus wanted to hear, his walls began to rebuild, his anxiety returned, and he acknowledged that the nicotine couldn’t fix this. Subconsciously he slummed so that his forehead pressed against the wall. “Yeah, thanks, Tommy.”
“This is the last fuckin’ time, mate.”
“We’ll talk when I get down stairs.” The last thing he wanted to do was negotiate in front of Krishna. Fingers pushed through his hair and he grabbed his keys.

“Really fucking sorry for what might happen next. Don’t feel like you have to stay. I just… have to deal with this.” The stammering was reminiscent of the first time they met, and Gus was probably just as nervous all over again. Who knew what sort of state his brother would be in.

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	lievsay 2015-11-29 06:48 am UTC (link) Select
	Dinah had started up with Teach Me Tonight when he shut the door. He could hear the faint sound of the smokey singer’s voice and took a moment before he headed down the steps. (Reply to this)(Parent) (Thread)

krishna
2015-11-29 01:48 pm UTC (link)

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The combination of Krishna’s nostalgia for spending time like this and his particular company made for a delightful easiness that Krishna sunk into readily. The carpet was soft underneath him, and Maybelle didn’t seem like she was going to go anywhere soon. Gus’ hand kept brushing up against him now and then as he pet her, too. It was comfortable and quiet and basically everything Krishna hadn’t had for the past - well. Nearly the entire past year. Maybelle purred, eye closed, and her contentment only spurred him further into his own.

Except suddenly, the buzzer rang. There was a part of Krishna that was sheepishly grateful for it, though: Gus had been about to say something, and Krishna had a feeling it wasn’t quite a reply to his question. His relief, however, was short-lived, as a voice came through the speakers bearing rather ominous news. Krishna didn’t have to know much to know that someone depositing Gus’ brother on the doorstep (again, it sounded like) wasn’t remotely a good thing. He frowned, but he didn’t immediately get up; when he craned his neck to look over at Gus, who was upside-down from his viewpoint, he caught the heavy slump of his shoulders, the shuttered off anxiety that was painted over the part of his face that Krishna could see. Yeah. This was bad.

He shook his head when Gus apologized, still frowning. “Don’t - yeah, don’t worry about me,” he said, mostly because he wasn’t sure what the best thing to say was. He wasn’t even sure exactly what was going on, but he wasn’t stupid. He had a few educated guesses.

The door closed behind Gus, and Krishna picked Maybelle up, heedless now of disrupting her relaxation. There was orange hair all over the front of his black sweater, but he didn’t notice that, nor was he much paying attention to the music anymore. He ran a hand through his hair, frowning at the door for a moment. Should he have left? Gus certainly seemed to know whatever routine was necessary here. But the thing was, Krishna didn’t feel like he should have left, and moreover, he didn’t want to leave, not when it felt like Gus might have needed some help. Maybe not outwardly, but - still.

So after a moment, he made up his mind. He didn’t bother putting his coat or shoes on before he opened the door, careful not to let Maybelle outside, and headed downstairs to meet Gus and, from what he could guess, his incapacitated brother.

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lievsay
2015-11-29 04:25 pm UTC (link)

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If Amos had been incapacitated, he would’ve been a lot easier to deal with. When Tommy said he was leaving him at the bottom of the step, Amos was curled up in a ball, twitching, laughing, and mumbling paranoid shit to himself. The elder Lievsay brother was skinnier, taller, and his hair was cut short, and on a better day it would’ve been easy to see the resemblance.

Gus had paid Tommy off after arguing for a bit, and then he was left alone to deal with his brother. Despite Gus’ sweet nature, he had a well of anger and rage that ran deep. He’d spent years learning how to channel it, and if this had been earlier in his life he would’ve exploded (or would’ve been dropped off with him), but now he just looked at Amos and his heart broke. Krishna wasn’t even on his mind at this point.

“Half a year, Amos. Half a fucking year.” The words were more for himself than his tweeking brother, but he needed to remind himself that this wasn’t his fault. How many rehab programs had he paid for? What more could he do without locking him in a room and never letting him leave? Gus had reached to help Amos up as if he was approaching a wild animal, and sure enough, Amos came at him violently. Gus had been shoved into the wall, right when Krishna rounded the corner. Amos was taller, but Gus had taken to working out if only so he could strong arm his brother if need be. That wasn’t the approach he liked to take, but Amos wasn’t exactly helping him out right then.

“Amos, it’s just me.” Gus’ voice was soft as ever, his hands were raised, and his eyes flickered off to Krishna, as if to suggest he should stay back before they returned to his rambling brother.

Amos had gotten to his feet and moved erratically. “How, how, how do I know it’s you? How do I know? You’re not you. You’re not you anymore, Gus. You’re someone else now. You’re Lievsay. The GREAT LIEVSAY!!!” If Gus had a strange accent, his brother’s had almost ten years longer to develop, and sounded more Cajun than Irish. His brother noticed Krishna through his heavy blinking and his laugh echoed in the stairwell. “Maybe, maybe you’re him! Maybe you’re him and maybe he’s you. How do I know? How I do I know because I can’t use my eyes to see. Everything is a lie, Gus. The whole FUCKING world is a lie!” When Amos took a couple steps toward Krishna, Gus was quick to move in-between the two of them. Amos scratched at himself while he paced around, and Gus could feel a sting at the back of his eyes, but he swallowed it back along with the lump in his throat.

“Amos, it’s me. Your favourite place is the creek by da’s house.” Gus approached him again, and this time Amos didn’t hurl a fist at him. “Mam used to sing us ‘Wade in the Water’ before tucking us in. We both have the same burn scar on our back. Do you want me to keep going or you wanna go upstairs?” Gus’ approach was well honed, but Amos responded to it by grabbing the keys out of his hand and running up the stairs faster than either of them could react.

Right before he darted after him, Gus gave Krishna an apologetic look then raced after him.

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krishna
2015-11-30 12:31 am UTC (link)

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The scene Krishna stumbled upon was - not one he had been imagining. For one thing, Gus’ brother was not, as he’d expected, passed out cold. Instead, he was not only upright but raving, and Krishna didn’t need Gus’ wordless warning to stay back to know to keep his distance. He hung back, eyebrows slanted together as he watched things unfold. Clearly, Amos was not on a depressant; he was tweaking on something heavy. For a moment, Krishna was worried that Amos was going to grow violent, but he didn’t, not even when he suddenly took a step towards Krishna that Gus quickly cut off with success.

This, too, wasn’t new for Krishna. He’d been in enough shady situations to have seen people through drug overdoses. There was no way, however, that he could reassure Gus that he wasn’t going to go anywhere, so he didn’t bother putting into words. His continued presence was clear enough. He stayed calm, keeping a close watch of both Gus and his brother, and - for just a bit, it seemed that maybe Amos had calmed down. Gus was talking to him soothingly, and Amos didn’t lash out. But when Gus got close enough, Amos suddenly snatched his keys and vaulted up the stairs, quick enough that even Krishna, standing closer to them than Gus, wasn’t able to stop him. (Not that he could have really done much; Amos wasn’t a very large man, but Krishna also wasn’t under any illusions about his own physicality.)

“Shit,” he breathed, and he hurried back up the stairs after Gus. By the time they reached the door to his flat, though, it was closed and locked. The floor was cold against Krishna’s bare feet, but not having shoes or a coat wasn’t exactly the biggest concern on his mind at the moment. He turned to look at Gus, letting out a breath. “Do any of the neighbors have a spare?” he asked, since that was the most practical option. He patted down his pockets for something to jimmy the lock with, but his wallet was inside the flat.

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lievsay
2015-11-30 01:31 am UTC (link)

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That Krishna had stuck around or even come out to join him, spoke volumes, but it wasn’t the time or place for recognition. Gus was already drained and the little bit of charge his time with Krishna had given him, was already gone. In the split second before he ran up after his brother, he resigned himself to putting all of this aside. This wasn’t about his needs, this was about his brother.

The door being locked wasn’t a surprise, but still he slammed his first against the door upon the realization. “Amos. Why would you lock me out?” There was a firmness in his voice now, but he kept it partly reeled in.

From the other side of the door he could hear the damage Amos was doing. “Why would I lock YOU out? WHY HAVE YOU LOCKED ME? You’re just like the FUCKING rest of them LIEVSAY.” His brother must’ve moved closer to the door because all of a sudden his volume increased when he began to ‘baa’ at the door like a fucking sheep. Palms pressed against the door, Gus’ head hung down.

“You know you’re the most important person in my life.” And he was. Gus would endure torture and take a bullet for him. The only thing he wouldn’t do was expose him to tour life until he’d been clean a year.

“You’re just like her. Only music is your religion and I’m not fucking worthy of it. I DESERVE IT. NOT YOU!” Amos banged on the door a couple times. A neighbor popped their head out into the hallway and Gus lifted a hand and mouthed, I’m sorry.

“I know, Amos. I know. And I want to share it with you, but you won’t let me.” Even with Krishna standing but a few feet from him, Gus felt incredibly alone in that moment. What he wanted was his brother, what he got was a meth-head.

“Fucking JUNKIE HYPOCRITE.” A couple more slams of Amos’ fists to the door. “Does your mate know you’re a fuckin’ junkie liar? Does he know? I bet he doesn’t. None of them know. I should tell them! THE WORLD WANTS TO KNOW, LIEVSAY. EVERYONE WANTS TO KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU BECAUSE YOU’RE SO. FUCKIN’. TALENTED!!! Fuckin’ junkie. You’re JUST LIKE ME.” Gus remained at the door, head bowed, hair hiding him from Krishna’s view. Tears spilled out that he didn’t bother to wipe away. “WHAT DOES ANY OF IT MATTER THOUGH? YOU’RE GOING TO LEAVE AGAIN. Always leaving. You’re everything you hate, Lievsay.”

Gus could hear Amos walk away from the door. One hand slipped in his pocket and he handed his flip phone to Krishna. “I’ll get your things, if you don’t mind waiting a couple minutes out here, I’d like for you to call someone if I ask for it. Her name is Sarah. All you need to tell her is that Amos is having an episode and the address. I promise I won’t make you wait very long. And only call if I tell you to, yeah?” Gus didn’t bother shielding the tears from Krishna, then turned back to the door and jimmied the lock with his pocket knife. A couple seconds later he was inside and the door was left ajar.

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krishna
2015-11-30 01:47 am UTC (link)

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Listening to Amos’ tirade was, for lack of a better word, awful. Krishna wasn’t sure exactly what to do, but he did know that it was incredibly important for them to get the door open, since right now Amos was behind it, on in his own, doing god knew what. It was too dangerous to let go on for much longer. But Krishna didn’t have anything to pick the lock with, and he couldn’t remember whether there was a relatively easy way to get in through one of the windows in Gus’ flat. Before he offered to go figure it out, though, Gus handed him a phone and told him to stand by as he went inside. It turned out he did have something on him to pick the lock with.

For a moment, then, Krishna was left outside on his own, barefoot, shivering slightly, and holding Gus’ phone. The front door was open, though not fully. He couldn’t quite hear what was happening inside, though that was probably a good thing considering it meant that Amos couldn’t have been raving for the while. But there was only so long he could stand there, and ultimately Krishna couldn’t stop himself from sliding in through the slight gap of the door. Maybe it was a bad idea - after all, Amos didn’t know him, and a stranger’s presence was clearly setting him off even more. But Gus had been crying, and even though he was probably physically stronger than Amos that didn’t mean he might not have needed some help.

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lievsay
2015-11-30 07:37 am UTC (link)

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Gus’ intention had been to grab Krishna’s things, get them to him, then calm Amos down enough to get him into bed. In the morning he’d have to contemplate sending him back to rehab. What he found was his brother sobbing and rocking himself on the tile in the bathroom. Was this better or worse than a raving mad man?

Gus could hardly move under the weight of his heartbreak.

Somehow he found a way for his knees to bend, and his arms encircled his older brother. There wasn’t much about what Amos said that he could defend. He did leave. People did care about his favorite color or if he preferred sparkling water over flat which was absurd. Once a junkie, always a junkie. Almost three years sober and he couldn’t deny the way he still hungered for it. His mother had religion, his father had alcohol, and Gus had music. They’d all abandoned their family for their drug of choice. No hit song or slap on the back from a hero could entirely wipe that slate clean.

Half in the hallway, half in the bathroom, it took Gus a moment to notice that Krishna had slipped in and was in the process of putting his shoes back on. He wanted to talk to him, but what was there to say? This is why I have walls? This is why I never have anyone over? This is why I’m alone? Surrounding Krishna was a mess that implied the room wasn’t as minimalist as it looked. Shit was strewn everywhere. Dinah Washington laid in several pieces scattered about the flat. Still, Gus’ hand ran gently up and down Amos’ back.

When Krishna’s gaze connected with his own, the only thing he could surmise about his own expression, was that it revealed how very tired he was. Krishna’s expression on the other hand was a mystery to him. The younger singer had claimed Gus wouldn’t have to fear judgement from him, but how true was that? This wasn’t the version of his brother he wanted Krishna to meet. He didn’t want Krishna to feel sorry for him either. But then again, he couldn’t tell what he was thinking or why he’d stuck around as long as he had. What he wanted to believe was that Krishna cared, but he didn’t trust that, not this soon. Still he beaconed with his free hand. Getting Amos into bed would be a lot easier with help as much as he didn’t want to ask for it.

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krishna
2015-11-30 12:01 pm UTC (link)

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The place was a mess. The detritus of Amos' fit lay all around the room: broken record pieces, books, shards of the mugs Krishna and Gus had been drinking from (and the tea that had been left in them). The couch had been overturned. Maybelle was nowhere to be seen, probably having run away to hide somewhere safe. But all of that was secondary to the hunched forms of Gus and his brother; Krishna spotted them immediately from their place on the floor, halfway between the bathroom and the hallway. The sounds of Amos' sobs were unmistakable, and when Gus looked up, it was obvious that he wasn't much better off, even if he wasn't shaking from the force of crying. The whole picture was heartbreaking.

Krishna put his shoes on, not to distance himself from what was going on but rather so that he'd be able to fetch some things from the shops to help out. First, though, he walked over to Gus when he was beckoned. For the moment, there was nothing to say. He doubted Gus wanted to talk anyway.

He knelt down, and the two of them managed to get Amos up. Amos was heavier than he looked, though; Krishna staggered under the unexpectedness of his weight, but he got his bearings quickly with the help of his hand braced against the wall for a moment. From there the process was relatively quick. Gus and he got Amos to bed and made sure he was covered by blankets.

"He's gonna need to eat something when he wakes up," Krishna said softly, though he knew that Gus already knew the whole thing by heart. He had both of his hands on Gus' arms, was rubbing them without really realizing it in an attempt to offer some kind of physical comfort. "I'll get some stuff from down the street - just gimme like five minutes and I'll be right back. Don't worry about the living room, I'll clean it up." He was reluctant to leave, even if he'd only be gone briefly, but Krishna forced himself to move after squeezing Gus' hand one last time. The air was colder when he got outside - he'd forgotten his coat. He didn't go back for it, since there was no sense in that.

When he got back to the flat, he had a couple bags on his arms - he'd gone both to the chemist and to the grocery. He put everything down on the kitchen counter and then plucked a sports drink from one of the bags before heading back to the bedroom. "For when he wakes up," he said, voice low as he pressed the bottle to Gus' hand. "I'm gonna be right in the other room."

Assessing where Gus was and how he was feeling was... difficult, but it wasn't impossible. Krishna had heard, after all, nearly everything Amos had screamed at him. He could surmise a few things about their relationship, and how Gus must have been feeling. But he didn't know everything, and moreover he didn't know what exactly Gus needed from him. Witnessing something like this was excruciatingly personal; if Krishna had been in this situation and had to deal with someone seeing his sister in this state he didn't know what he would have wanted from the other person. The only thing he knew for sure was that he didn't want to leave, and that most likely, even if Gus might not have wanted him around, having another person there was almost necessary.

He headed back to the kitchen, then, where he put together a light chicken noodle soup for when Amos woke up. He didn't have to have experience with whatever it was Amos was on to know that his body needed three things: food, liquids, and sleep. He was getting sleep now, hopefully, and when he woke up he'd have electrolytes and protein waiting for him. While the soup was simmering, he busied himself clearing up the living room. He swept up the mess and wiped the tea from the floor. Maybelle resurfaced from where she'd been hiding and approached him tentatively before winding around his legs. She left again quickly, perhaps to seek out Gus. The only thing Krishna couldn't do on his own to clean up was right the couch, so he left it for the time being. When he got back to the bedroom, he was carrying a mug of tea. He didn't know if Gus wanted it, but he offered it silently all the same.

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lievsay
2015-11-30 03:19 pm UTC (link)

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Every couple of minutes, Gus assumed Krishna would say, I’m going to head out. That was what most rational people would do. Only he found that every couple of minutes, Krishna continued to pop back into the picture. Later, Gus would marvel at this, in the moment he could only pull strength from it. Having help with Amos almost always came from someone like Tommy who he had to pay off. The rehab center would only come get him, they wouldn’t help tuck him in or make chicken noodle soup, or bring tea to Gus.

Before Krishna had returned, Gus had been sitting on the edge of Amos’ bed, worried more about the side effects and what he might have to do if Amos woke up moreso than any of the healthy steps Krishna assumed responsibility for. That someone else was taking care of the rest of it wasn’t something he could even fully factor in. Over the years he’d had help from a few people, but most had been old friends, a bandmember, Richard. Never a near perfect stranger. Those thoughts bubbled to the surface, but they popped easily the longer he looked at the sleeping form of his brother. One hand stroked along his back, the other stroked along Maybelle’s fur. He wasn’t even sure when she’d hopped in his lap just that she was there. Consistently he thought about the conversation that morning about how he had added a charity show in New York on the first. In true Irish fashion, Amos hadn’t said much, but the hunch of his shoulders said it all. He wasn’t happy. Gus was supposed to be home till they both went to Ireland for his last couple shows for the year. Now he was leaving again.

Alone in the room, Gus whispered, “I’m sorry.” And he was. Deeply.

When Krishna returned, Gus had moved to the loveseat across the room. Couldn’t remember doing that either. In the dim light, Krishna’s eyes offered ‘thanks’ even though he wasn’t even sure how much Krishna had did and just held the warm cup in his hands. He could fell the weight of the loveseat shift as a signal that he’d joined him. Gus wanted to remind him that he didn’t have to stay, but a couple minutes later he’d put the cup of tea on the ground and found himself leaning over and placing his head on Krishna’s lap. The weight of it all felt like too much for him to bare. He’d triggered this. Everything good about his career triggered this. Amos wasn’t wrong, Gus was just as selfish as their mother and father.

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krishna
2015-11-30 04:36 pm UTC (link)

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Gus didn't seem to be paying attention to anything in particular - he seemed totally zoned out. Krishna wasn't sure if that was normal for him or not during times like this, but either way it wasn't great. If he'd been uncertain about overstaying his welcome, he stopped thinking about it now. It didn't matter whether Gus resented him for having an unexpected look into his private life; it was way more important that Krishna stuck around and make sure things stayed stable.

He sat down next to Gus on the loveseat, watching him carefully. His eyes were still glassy and checked out, but he accepted the mug of tea without saying anything. After a moment, though, he put the mug on the ground and slumped over until his head was in Krishna's lap, surprising. But this was what Krishna was good at: the tactile stuff. Despite being almost solely in charge of the lyrics for Figure 9, he had always been more comfortable with expressing himself physically than verbally. He couldn't go wrong like this. He didn't hesitate, then, to curl slightly into Gus, to put his hand flat against Gus' chest, rubbing deliberately, to push his other hand into Gus' hair. It was obvious that Gus was searching for safety. He bent down slightly, brushing his lips against Gus' temple. They were strangers, but Krishna could recognize this much, and he could try to help as best as possible.

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lievsay
2015-12-01 06:17 am UTC (link)

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Distancing himself had always been easy, but the press of Krishna’s palm to his chest brought him right back in it. It’d been awhile since anyone had touched him with such warmth. Gus didn’t allow himself to think about any of it, he just sunk into his touch and allowed himself to be present in his pain. His calloused fingers slipped over Krishna’s hand and clutched it to his chest when he felt the press of his lips against his temple. A couple of tears stained Krishna’s jeans before he moved just enough to look up at this stranger.

The light it in the room consisted largely of the moonlight that spilled through the curtains, and the hallway light that filtered in through the ajar door. However long he’d been in there had been enough to make out Krishna’s features, but he stopped when their eyes met. Gus didn’t know what he looked like, but he felt completely exposed. Krishna didn’t have to be told that his family had a well of problems that ran deeper than what Amos had already revealed. Ordinarily this would have terrified him, but in that moment he felt safe. Instinctually he trusted Krishna, and wanted him to know. The words weren’t there, but everything else was.

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krishna
2015-12-01 01:26 pm UTC (link)

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They stayed like that for a long time - Krishna wasn't sure how long. The sun had already set while he'd been cleaning up, and Gus hadn't turned the light on in the bedroom. Amos had fallen into a restless sleep, and although Krishna was sure he'd wake soon it didn't seem like they had to worry about it right then. Anyway, there was a good chance that even when he did wake up he'd be too exhausted to rave again.

He turned the bulk of his attention, then, to Gus, who hadn't pushed him aside or even asked him to leave but had clutched at his hand. When he turned to look up, Krishna smiled softy at him, purely from reflex. He didn't say anything; he instead swept his thumb slowly over the curve of one of Gus' eyebrows, touch repetitive and deliberate. He'd picked up the gesture from his mother, who had always soothed him and his sister that way when they'd been kids. She still did it now sometimes, when he stayed home for a bit, and he had always gotten comfort from it.

Krishna wasn't sure how much time had passed when Amos stirred, this time with intent behind it. His groan was shockingly loud in the otherwise silent room. Krishna looked up, frowning slightly. "He should probably have something to drink," he said, looking back at Gus. Carefully, he shifted until he could get up. He wasn't sure if Gus preferred to have a break or if he needed to do everything himself - instead of asking, Krishna picked up the sports drink on the nightstand and opened it, speaking lowly and soothingly to Amos to get him to sit up a bit, confident that Gus would let him know if he wanted to take over.

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lievsay
2015-12-01 07:30 pm UTC (link)

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To analyze the moment would’ve ruined it, or complicated it in some way so Gus didn’t and wouldn’t. Instead he opted to accept the intimacy and safety that Krishna had provided him. He allowed himself to relax against him, to remain open and raw and vulnerable. The way his fingers drew along Gus’ eyebrow might’ve ultimately put him to sleep if he hadn’t been so drawn into the connection that flowed between the two of them in the moment. When was the last time he let anyone do this for him? Sure, his band, his back-up singers, and some crew would fall asleep with him or play with his hair, but it lacked the intensity and the nurturing of what Krishna offered up so freely and without question.

The disruption took a while to arrive, but when it did, Gus found that he wasn’t the first to react. That Krishna was so willing to get that close to a wild animal, was incredibly surprising. Who was this guy? Gus didn’t want Amos to have another episode, so he brought over Maybelle with him and sat on the other side. Maybelle knew to hop in Amos’ lap, and Gus gently slipped his hand over his brother’s arm. They’d always differed on their drugs of choice, but having been through this with him before, he knew the comedown was surprisingly easier than anything he ever went through. Didn’t hurt that coming down from one use after six months was a lot different than if he’d consistently been using. Gus produced a small medicine bottle and popped out some Xanax, he offered it up to Amos to swallow with the drink, and soon his brother went right back to sleep. Gus took his brother’s hand and held it loosely for a moment.

In a soft whisper, he began, “You don’t have to stay. You’ve already done so much.” Gus turned his head to meet Krishna’s eyes. “I don’t even know how to thank you for this.”