#cal farshore | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

galahadiant · 2 years ago

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hey gang check out my horrible guys cw: heavy drinking, shitty dysfunctional relationships. technically cal was also getting misgendered this whole time but I've chosen to use his actual name and pronouns for my own comfort

01.

“Dear, don’t fidget,” whispers Jonah through gritted teeth, and Cal locks his ankles together to try to keep his legs from jiggling under his skirt. Jonah pats his arm with one gloved hand, a strained little gesture, but sweet. Cal can feel that people are staring at them across the table, and he goes back to focusing on his oyster fork.

Jonah is so patient with Cal, they must be thinking. Cal can never control himself at these things, and Jonah never shouts. Plenty of people in Cal’s family would have lost patience by now, including the cousin glaring at him from across the table. He can feel sweat beading on the back of his neck. This dress has a high lace collar that’s awfully uncomfortable.

He carefully detaches the oyster from the shell with the tines of the fork. He doesn’t really like oysters. but he chokes another one down just for the look of the thing. Jonah gives him a small smile when he looks up, and quickly moves one of the remaining oysters onto his own plate.

...Jonah is so patient.

02.

Cal drinks straight from the bottle, leaning back against one of the velvet curtains and letting it half envelop him. It’s green velvet, dark. Darker than the trees in the greenhouse. He presses his cheek into it. It’s so soft. It smells like dust. The sky outside the big bay windows in the gallery is butter-and-gold with sulfuric clouds, and the colors waver pleasantly in his vision.

He takes another swig from the bottle of brandy and gives a small cough as it goes down just a little too fast and hot. Oh, well. It’s starting to taste pretty good now that he’s—

“Are you drunk?” demands Jonah, wrenching the bottle out of Cal’s hand. Cal jumps, briefly scrabbling at the folds of the velvet drapery like he thinks he can sink into it. Maybe he can just hide underneath it and sneak away. Jonah’s voice is so loud.

“We’re about to leave to shop for your wedding dress!” Jonah splutters. He sets the half-empty bottle down on a table, where it’s certainly going to leave a ring of condensation, and extracts Cal from the curtains. “My mother is going to be there,” he adds, more horrified.

“Still don’t get why your mother is coming.”

“I— okay, I don’t either. She insisted, though, so we’d better put on a good show. We’ll get you some water on the way down.” He’s checking them over with his quick, precise little movements, pinning hair back in place, ruffling back out the lace front of their dress. Cal loves how…precise Jonah is. So good at picking up the pieces. Jonah’s always picking up pieces.

Cal tears up a little. “Sorry,” he says.

Jonah shakes his head and picks up Cal’s velvet jacket, discarded on top of a bookshelf. “You know, your problem is that you’re selfish,” he says. He won’t meet their eyes. “You never think about how much your actions affect other people.”

“It— it’s MY damn wedding dress!” Cal retorts. “It’s you who went and made it into a production!”

“Volume,” Jonah says, softly.

Cal wheels on his heel and slams Jonah into a wall. There’s a sharp crack as his head collides with the wooden paneling. The bookshelves rattle, and Jonah grunts. He stares at Cal for a second, brows furrowed, and slowly removes their hand from his arm.

“…I’m so sorry,” says Cal, aghast. He drops his hand and takes a step backwards, a little unsteady on his feet.

“That’s going to leave a lump,” says Jonah, his voice very distant and sharp on the edges. “I suppose you’re pleased with yourself.”

“No, I’m not, I promise—!”

Jonah pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go get some water, and I’ll ECHO our parents to let them know we’re delayed.” He sighs.

“I’m just nervous, I think,” says Cal mournfully. The stairs are kind of tricky to go down drunk, especially with the hem of his dress getting in the way. “I can’t help it, I haven’t liked any of the dresses we’ve looked at so far, they’re all…they make me feel lumpy.”

“Very few people can go wrong in tailored clothes, and we’ll be getting yours tailored,” says Jonah, not reassuringly. “And if you can’t pick one our parents can just pick one for you. You needn’t get so worried about it.”

He gives them a small smile when they get to the kitchen. “It shouldn’t be stressful,” he adds. “Drink. And take this, it might help clear your head.” He pushes a pill into their hand and they swallow it obediently.

“Sorry,” says Cal again.

“I’m sure you’ll look wonderful,” says Jonah, who is looking out the window and absentmindedly rubbing the back of his head.

03.

Dear Jonah,

I’m sorry. I couldn’t go through with it. I’m afraid I’ve been lying to you. It turns out that I’m a guy, actually, and I think you might have been able to tell recently, and I know that’s not something you’re ready to deal with.

I want to see the rest of the galaxy. I want to have adventures. I want to go places where there are people in danger and help them and I want to be in and out of some real, actual danger. Not just falling out of trees or cloud-diving. Maybe I really am selfish, but I'm also drunk, and I don't care. By the time you read this I'll be offworld.

You can tell everyone I had a nervous break. They’ll believe you. Your mother never liked me much anyway.

My name is Calix, by the way. I guess you deserve to know.

Love you.

04.

Dear Calix,

I don’t think you’re sorry at all.

Don’t try to reach me again.

#cal farshore #my writing

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