Someday We Can Start Again CH2

Miguel almost reflexively asked why Tulio was all the way across the room before his brain reminded him of the situation.
"So. What've you been up to?" he asked slowly, hoping it didn't sound forced. Tulio took a swig of water, mulling the question over.
"I've been . . . keeping busy. Pulled a few cons, made a bit of money . . . not much, but. Enough to live on."
Miguel frowned, swilling the water around inside the skin and waiting for an elaboration, but receiving nothing.
"That all?" he coaxed, glancing upwards. Tulio thought for a moment.
"Almost got pressganged into some dodgy shipping deal," he said, snorting quietly. "Coulda really used your help then."
Miguel gave a nostalgic, yet melancholic grin.
"How so?"
"Well for starters, you wouldn't have let me go and try to gamble with the toothless sailors in the corner in a fit of drunken inspiration."
He winced a little, mentally tallying the amount of times that had happened before. Though that would have been the first time he hadn't been there to try to make him see sense.  
"Ah. What happened, were you alright?"
"There was a fight. They punched me, I punched them… the usual." Tulio flashed a small smile that died as quickly as it had come. "Chel was no help whatsoever."
Miguel frowned.
"Really?" She'd put herself across as so tough in the time that he'd known her that he found himself somewhat incredulous.
"Maybe I'm not being fair. She tried . . . or rather, she tried to try. There were five six-foot-something sailors who didn't care who they hit as long as they caused some damage. We just legged it in the end."
"Right... but you were both okay in the long run?" Miguel asked, all emotions replaced by concern.
"We were fine," Tulio smiled. "Damn tired, but fine."
"Good," Miguel muttered, awkwardly swilling his water around again as a painful, heavy silence surrounded them.
"I missed you, Miguel," Tulio admitted quietly, after a few beats of silence. "I know you don't want to hear it, but it's true."
"Well that's the thing. I try to deny it, but it's what I want to hear more than anything," he whispered, cheeks colouring with shame. It was horribly awkward – the only person he could /tell/ was the very same person he was constantly crying over. Tulio swallowed hard and stared down at the skin of water in his grip, tossing it from hand to hand.
"Well ... I did. I… I missed you more than I thought was possible to miss someone."
"As did I. It's been... really, /really/ dreadful. I'd have probably been better off if I hadn't've left," he muttered, sighing with the realisation. "And… maybe you would have too."
"Yeah ... I certainly wouldn't have let any of /this/ happen," Tulio sighed, waving his hand at the room. "And I have to know, what was the last straw for you? When did you think enough was enough?"
"You mean, as in... what made me leave?" the blond asked carefully, shifting in discomfort. Tulio nodded, mentally preparing himself for whatever Miguel was about to say.
"Yeah."
Miguel swallowed hard, staying silent for a few seconds.
"Look, I… I know it sounds clichéd, but every time I saw you two together, I felt like my heart was being slowly torn out..." he said thickly. Tulio nodded slowly, his own heart feeling tight and constricted in his chest.
"I never meant . . . I mean, I didn't think about it hurting you. I think I just . . . blocked it out."
"Mhmm, I'd have to agree there," he muttered, eyes glued to the skin clasped in his fingers, blocking out the unwanted memories of the time the group spent between leaving the city and his running away. Tulio had been in relationships with women before, of course he had… but he'd never ignored Miguel before. Even when the blond had had to stand seeing the person he loved with someone else, Tulio had constantly reassured Miguel that he came first and always would. He'd never told Miguel that when he was with Chel. Not once.
"I never meant for things to ... get so out of hand, with her, I mean," Tulio said, his voice distant. Miguel nodded vaguely.
"I get it..." he mumbled. ~No, I really don't...~ his brain added in. ~I thought I meant more to you than that... I did, once…~
"Well you'd be the only one who does," Tulio sighed, tilting his head back to rest on the wall. "I don't, and I'm the one who /started/ all this shit."
Miguel just shrugged, still avoiding eye contact and Tulio heaved another sigh, watching Miguel's expression, trying to read him - a feat that was getting harder and harder to do with the darkness in the room. Miguel sensed the silence and glanced upwards, but immediately regretted it. He hadn't thought it through, and he had nothing to say. He stared up awkwardly, almost cringing at the quiet.
The atmosphere in the freezing room was heavy and awkward, and Tulio didn't have the slightest clue what he could do about it. He was fully aware that the entire situation was his own stupid fault, and he should be the one to remedy it, but he wasn't sure how.
"So, um--" Miguel stopped himself before he offered food he didn't have for the second time. He really wished he could just escape the whole situation by sticking his head in a barrel of wine and passing out somewhere, but that wasn't really an option. Tulio cleared his throat awkwardly when it became obvious that Miguel wasn't going to say anything else.
"Do . . . do you mind if I ask you something?" he said slowly, his voice sounding too loud in the thick silence of the room. Miguel shook his head, masking any anxiety that came with the question.
"No, go right ahead..."
"You said earlier that . . ." Tulio stopped to gather his thoughts, disguising this by shifting his body, as if getting more comfortable. "You said earlier that you couldn't play any instruments any more. Why . . . why is that?"
The blond hesitated, considering how to phrase his answer.
"This'll probably sound stupid, too, but... I can't really... I mean, it just doesn't come if I'm not feeling it. Which, of course, I haven't been."
Tulio nodded silently. That made sense. He supposed Miguel hadn't had much to be musical about in the last year. And 'Miguel' and 'not being musical' didn't belong in the same sentence. Ever.
"I have to admit, though . . ." he said, the corner of his mouth slanting upwards slightly. "It's weird seeing you without your mandolin. It's like you're missing a limb or something."
A nostalgic half-grin crossed Miguel's features and he nodded towards the corner of the room.
"It's behind the door, I didn't chuck it or anything. But it's missing a string."
"If you like, I can get you some strings tomorrow -" Tulio stopped himself short, his brow suddenly furrowed and his eyes on the floor. "Before… you know, before I go."
Miguel's stomach churned. If he left, life would go on as it had done for the past year - ending nights in one of three ways. Passed out in some bar following vast alcohol consumption, crying himself to sleep at 'home' with his mind on one person and one person only, or the least pleasant: in some shoddy inn with his fingers digging into the filthy bedsheets, a massive figure looming over him with their hands on his hips, ready to fuck him senseless.
All he could muster was a strangled "...You're going?"
"I figured you wouldn't want me to /stay/ after what I did to you," Tulio replied, not noticing the panic in Miguel's eyes, his own too firmly fixed on the wooden floorboards. "I was frankly surprised when you didn't scream for help or something the second you saw my face."

"You-- I mean... but-- do you even have a house?" he asked. He was using practicality as an excuse and hoping Tulio would be too tired to notice, because 'Miguel' and 'practicality' were two more things that didn't really belong in the same sentence. Tulio raised his eyes to look at Miguel and shrugged, the out-of-character behaviour going right over his head, to Miguel's relief.
"No. I rent rooms when I can and sleep rough when I can't. Like we used to." A ghost of a smile passed over his face and faded. "I don't want to ... make you even more uncomfortable in my company than you already are."
Miguel shifted. True, he was far from comfortable, but the absolute last thing he wanted was for Tulio to leave. Where would that leave both of them?
"Did you come here to fix things?" he asked carefully.
"I came to /try,/" Tulio replied, bringing up a hand to scratch his chin, wincing as the two-day-old stubble scraped his palms. He frowned. "But then I got here, and I realised I had no idea /how/ I'd fix things."
Miguel raised an eyebrow, biting back a small smile.
"Well you're certainly not going to do it by declaring that you're leaving tomorrow."
"That's probably true," Tulio admitted, giving one short, quiet breath of laughter. "I didn't have time to think about it. Once I'd decided to come and see you I just borrowed a mate's horse and got here as fast as I could. All I was focused on was seeing you again - didn't give a whole lot of thought to what I'd actually /say./"
Miguel's eyebrows rose higher, the grin that'd won the battle and taken over his face now frozen in place, forming a slightly dangerous expression.
"You... borrowed a horse?"
"Yeah . . . gelding, tall, good nature . . . not sure what breed he -"
Realisation slowly dawned on Tulio's face.
"Oh."
Miguel cocked his head to the side, eyebrows practically touching his hairline, smile still pasted across his mouth.
"Hm?"
Tulio shifted under Miguel's gaze, suddenly acutely and uncomfortably aware of how fixed and frozen Miguel's smile looked.
"I . . . I have something to, uh, tell you . . ."
"Really."
"Yeah..." Tulio swallowed, his collar feeling far too tight. He took a deep breath. "Chel took Altivo."
"As in you agreed, or she stole him?" he asked excruciatingly slowly, showing calmness that was entirely invisible inside his head. As much as he wished the other option was true, Tulio couldn't lie.
"I agreed. We, er, we split our stuff. I said she could have the horse. Kinda regretted that when I had to ask the creepy guy from the general store for a loan of his horse." He looked over at Miguel, and added quietly, "Regretting it even more now."
Miguel's limbs felt numb as they trembled with fury.
"Did you not-- I--" he stuttered out a few short, staccato sentences, before taking a breath to compose himself. "Did you not get... the message I left for you in the bloody mud that said to take. care. of. Altivo?" he managed through gritted teeth. Tulio watched Miguel tremble with wide eyes and shook his head slowly, feeling like he was signing his own death warrant.
"I . . . I saw a few letters, but . . . we'd walked on it getting the camp ready to go a-and I couldn't really . . ."
"Did she /need/ him?" he asked, voice patronizing and high-pitched. Tulio was genuinely quite scared now.
"I-I don't know. I don't suppose so. I think she just doesn't like walking."
Miguel twitched, pretty much ready to throw himself out of the window.
"You gave her… /my/ horse… because she didn't… want… to WALK?"
"K . . . kind of . . ."
Tulio couldn't look away from Miguel's face, as much as he wanted to. He was frozen in place. Miguel was completely still for a few seconds before he gave a shriek of frustration and threw himself backwards against the wall, promptly banging his head and cursing loudly.
"Miguel!" Tulio, unthinkingly, hurtled to Miguel's side, worried. "God, Miguel, I'm so sorry, I -"
"Whyyyyy, why would you /do/ that!?" he groaned loudly, clutching his head and curling into a ball.
"I don't know, I don't know, I thought it would get her off my back and she said I could keep this ring we won if she could have him . . ." Tulio stopped, the words out of his mouth before he could think about them. Miguel's eyes widened and his expression turned into one of utter despair.
"Your penchant for shiny things will NEVER cease to amaze me..." he muttered, his voice cracking.
"I'm so, so sorry," Tulio said, his words running into each other in his haste to apologise. "Let me have a look at your /head/, for Christ's sake."
"Fiiiiiine..." he groaned, flopping said head into Tulio's lap. It's was probably a /good/ thing that he'd hit his head so hard.
Tulio jumped slightly at Miguel's sudden close proximity but otherwise didn't move. He cleared his throat.
"Is it, is it OK if I...?" He trailed off, gesturing to Miguel's head, unsure if he was overstepping any boundaries.
"Do whatever... I don't care..." the blond slurred, sighing.
"How hard did you /hit/ it?" Tulio muttered, gently pressing his fingertips to Miguel's head, feeling for bumps.
"No idea..."
Wow. Apart from the pain, this was almost as good as being drunk.
Tulio winced as his hands came into contact with a large lump already forming on the back of Miguel's head.
"I'd say pretty bloody hard."
Deliriousness made the conversations from the evening blur into one, and one particular part reappeared in Miguel's mind. "...You said ring. Were you gon'marry her?"
Tulio reached over for the skin of water and pressed it into Miguel's hands.
"She said she wanted to, at one point," he said absently, urging Miguel to drink. "I think she was trying to distract me from you."
"Right..." Miguel muttered, eyeing the skin like it was a wild animal. "And what did... /you/ think?"
Tulio was silent for a couple of seconds, holding the water out with the cap off as he considered his answer.
"I really didn't want to marry her," he said carefully, decisively.
"Why?" Miguel asked, giving in and taking a swig.
"She was loud and she was sly and she kept stealing the things I use to tie my hair back," Tulio replied, a slight smile quirking his lips. This brought a little smile to Miguel's face.
"Unforgivable crime. 'The scoundrel'." he quoted Tulio's memorable rant from last year. Tulio chuckled quietly, starting to disentangle his hand from Miguel's hair.
"Exactly. That's exactly what she was."
"Sorry, hair's a mess." the blond muttered, though he didn't sound that bothered. He wasn't, truth be told.
"Doesn't matter," Tulio muttered, trying not to pull any of Miguel's hair out and apologising quietly when a knot got caught on his index finger.
"'s too long..." His voice was starting to sound sleepy as he flashed his now-dull green eyes to where his hair had grown almost halfway down his forearm.
"Mmm," Tulio said distractedly, freeing his hand. "You should get some sleep. You've had a pretty draining evening."
Miguel gave a humourless half smile and shrugged.
"Not as draining as most."
Tulio gazed down at Miguel, trying to imagine the things he must have been through. He couldn't. His mind shied away from it. He swallowed, decided to try a reasonably safe question.
"How does the woman downstairs know about . . . it?"
"Slight incident in which it would have been impossible to continue withholding said information," he said brusquely. Tulio nodded.
"Was she . . . sympathetic?" He wasn't sure why this was suddenly important, but it was. He supposed he just needed to know if at least /someone/ had been kind to Miguel over the past year.
"Yeah," he answered flatly. He shook his head, pulling himself upwards. Horrible, morbid curiosity surfaced in Tulio's mind, but he fought it back and let Miguel sit up.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Bad subject."
Miguel shrugged it off with a casual "muh", beginning to shuffle over to his 'bed'. Tulio stood up to give Miguel some space and started walking back over to his side of the room. He stopped in the middle and turned around.
"You feeling OK?"
"Mhm." Miguel flopped onto the pile of cushions, facing the wall. "You? Anything I can get you?"
"I'm fine," Tulio replied, after a pause, unsure what Miguel was doing. He made his way to his waistcoat on the floor and sat down by it, facing Miguel's back.
"...Kay," Miguel replied flatly as he fumbled blindly for his half of the sheet. "Sure?"
"Positive. Anything I can do for /you?/"
Miguel snorted as his brain went through the list, which was pretty damn big.
"Nah. G'night."
Tulio lay down on the floor and tried to get all of his long body covered by the sheet.
"Night, Miguel."
Miguel made some kind of nonsensical noise by way of response and fell asleep almost instantly. Tulio didn't. He stared at Miguel's back in the gloom, going over the events of the day over and over, until his brain decided enough was enough and shut down, sometime in the early morning.