harry and james [complete]

[picksupstrays.livejournal.com]

Who: Harry Mason and James Sunderland
Where Harry's room
When: About twenty four hours after James committed suicide.
Rating: PG-13; talk of suicide, alcohol binging.
Summary: After James killed himself, Harry took the body to... well, his room, having no idea what else to do with him. About a day later, James has to wake up.
the Story:

To be honest, Harry has no idea how this... death thing works in the mansion. People die, then come back; that's how it functions, but he has no idea how long the person stays dead.

It's chilling, looking at a dead body, but he can't very well leave. If James wakes up while he's gone, who knows what he might try again?

So Harry stays. He doesn't sleep, doesn't think he can. The mansion knows what to provide when he opens the closet; he's settled by a table, and the bottle's halfway to being empty.

He sort of... understands why James did it, but he still thinks it's such a waste...


The evening comes before anything happens. Harry has a long time to wait in silence with the corpse. It really is strange how death works in Wonderland, coming back whether it's a simple bulet to the heart, or something far worse like stepping on a land mine. There is no choice in the matter; it just happens. Luckily, James hadn't lost any limbs or vitals from his fall. Everything's still connected, only, shattered or broken in just about every damn inch of his body.

The sun is just about to set when it finally happens; there's a twitch in his hand, and something shifts back into place under his skin. Only seconds later, there are strange pops and creaking noises filling the room, and even though James is dead, things are moving inside of him on their own. The scrapes and cuts over his body slowly disappear; any dried blood that might have been left clears, and his bruises revert back to the color or normal skin tone. When everything finally seems to finish, James draws a breath, and though it takes him a moment, eyelids finally flick open as well.

He looks...bewildered. Maybe worried, too.

"....Harry..?"


It takes Harry a moment to realize he even hears the pops and creaks of bones and the mending of flesh. He blinks and turns his head towards the noise, then jerks a little at the sight. Honestly, it's... disturbing. But he can't look away, like a trainwreck -- so he looks on as James's body repairs itself.

Then he sees him breathe and he holds his own breath for a moment.

...Just. Just too strange. How do people around here get used to it...?

"James?" Harry calls back, a little uncertain. His balance is awful as he tries to stand up, but eventually he finds his feet.

For the moment.


James isn't sure what to say. Honestly, he's not even sure what he's feeling right now, or where he is, though it does, of course, look familiar. There's no pain, but...he does feel alive. He's breathing, he can feel the sheets underneath him, the dullest bit of an ache, but...

He did kill himself, didn't he? That couldn't have just been a dream... Was this...?

"...What are you doing here...?" He asks, holding his head. Somehow, he feels it's the wrong question to ask, but it's all he can come up with for now. Harry looks very much so alive himself. He's a wreck, from what James can tell.


"This is my room," Harry says plainly, bracing a hand against the wall. "So maybe you should ask yourself why you're here, instead."

There's a pause from him, and he sighs, rubbing his forehead. "Sorry." He doesn't really mean to be edgy, but he is angry with James.

"So you're really alive, right?"

And Harry's not just imagining it, or something.


James isn't sure how to respond before the apology. He only realizes then that he's never really seen Harry upset, so it throws him off for a minute.

"...Am I?" he finally says, sounding more serious than he might've meant to. He definitely is alive, though. There's really no other explination. He remembers then, upon first arriving at the mansion, hearing some sort of strange rumor about being unable to die here, but...

"I...did, die then?" Another foolish question, maybe, but he feels the need to clarify. He distinctly remembers jumping... But why was Harry with him?


"You did," Harry confirms. He's not bothering to hide his glare from James, especially now that he's sure that he's alive.

He approaches, as directly as he can manage. The author is reaching down to grab onto James by the front of his shirt; he isn't that strong or usually very confrontational, but he's driven enough by anger at this point.

"Don't you ever try that again," Harry whispers furiously. He has no hanging threat. There's no point to that. "Ever. Just because you think you deserve it doesn't mean it's true."

Angry as he is, unbalanced as he feels from the drinks, he can't stay confrontational for long. Eventually, his fingers let go.

"Jerk," he mutters, like it's the worst insult he can come up with against James.


James is honestly surprised when Harry takes a fistful of his shirt, but he isn't worried. For one, Harry looks way too weak in his current state to even land a decent hit on him, but he knows probably deserves it, too. Actually, James thinks he's pretty sure he should be hit, but that thought alone would probably piss the other man off even more.

He shifts after a moment, legs swung over the bed's edge, and just watches the other in silence. It wasn't as if he'd forgotten what the other man did for him; getting out of that room was certainly a blessing. But at the same time, there was everything he had to admit, and not only to himself but Harry as well... Things probably couldn't be any more awkward.


This really isn't the right train of thought to be on, though. Right now, James needs to say something. So he tries.

"...Harry, I'm sorry." It wasn't entirely heartfelt, but he knows he owes the other man some sort of apology. Afterall, it looks like he'd been helped yet again by someone he hardly knew.


He's not stupid enough to fall for the apology. Though he sort of... gets the feeling that James is trying, it still bothers him. Harry frowns and shakes his head a little; he feels a bit dizzy, and presses his hand against the wall again.

"I don't know about that." He's angry. But he can't be angry forever. Mostly, he feels just... horrible for James. He knows what he did was a terrible thing, but he also knows that James is paying for it.

That counts... for something. Doesn't it?

"Don't do it again." Less like an order, a little more like a plea. He didn't have to clean up after James, but he did it anyway. He doesn't know if he can do it again (but he'd probably try to anyway). "No one here wants to see you die."


James forces himself to ignore the pessimistic thoughts that start to flood his mind after that last comment of the other's. He knows there's some truth to it, in all reality, but he is still having a hard time believing he honestly has a reason to live for. It was crueler this way, afterall, to be given life back when you didn't want it. This is just how James thinks now, though. Frankly, he's not sure it'll ever change, either.

For the time being, he actually decides to change the topic from himself to something else: Harry. Sure, he is the one who'd just died and come back to life, but Harry actually looks worse than he does. He contemplates, nodding. It couldn't hurt to question. Apologies didn't seem worth much right now.

"....... Are you alright?"


The question almost startles him, mostly because he doesn't expect it, honestly. He considers for a moment on what to say; he turns and presses his back against the wall. This isn't about Harry, he doesn't really need the attention. It feels like James is changing the subject anyway (not that talking about this is going to help anyway, maybe Harry is being too harsh).

"I'm fine," Harry says eventually, quietly. "I'm just... tired. And I guess I had a little too much to drink."

He shrugs. "I'm all right, though. Just..."

Harry just doesn't think it's a good idea to let James be by himself, but he can't think of how to say that with tact. It's not an easy subject, and there's no nice way of saying I think you'll kill yourself again if you're by yourself.


James watches him a moment, trying to find the words. He knows he shouldn't ask, his head still plenty cluttered with other things - like how he should be dead - but this doesn't stop him. He plans on leaving soon, unaware of Harry's own intent.

"...How long have you been awake?" It comes off more as curiousity than concern, but bears relation to Harry's well-being, either way. James can't help but notice the bottle on the table to his left is nearly empty, and there's more proof than he'd first realized in the man's face and movement that he is indeed quite drunk.

Harry probably just needs to sleep, in actuality. And James, James just wants to think. Perhaps leaving now was the better idea.

"Maybe we should save this for later." He's already standing while he speaks, padding down his arms and chest just to make sure everything was really okay.


That's not a question Harry is going to bother answering -- because he's been awake ever since he ran down to find James's body. How could he have slept? He didn't have anywhere else to put the body but his own room, and he couldn't just... sleep knowing it was there. Knowing James would wake up eventually.

It was too weird. It still is.

Harry does give him a look when he stands, then shakes his head. "You're not leaving." He folds his arms, but still stays against the wall. "Not by yourself, anyway."

Because he can't trust James to be by himself.


James stops where he is and gives Harry a rather surprised look. There's not much skirting around to do with words like that. He knows what the other man is getting at now, and frankly, feels a little disappointed. It was rather pointless to die again if he'd only come right back... But what he does really is his decision, and his alone.

...At least, this is how James first feels about it, but Harry really was going out of his way more than he should have to. James considers it, as though it was an offer he didn't have to take, still standing in the same place by the bed.

"You think I'll kill myself again?" He muses, though he should seem a little more upset about it. Honestly, James just can't get over the fact that he's stuck either way, but he wants to hear what Harry has to say about it. Why not? ...Why was he even concerned?


No point in beating about the bush, then; Harry doesn't let his gaze waver at the comment -- though it's difficult to even keep a straight look at this point. He is tired, but he's determined all the same.

"I do," he admits, but not shamefully. "I don't see any reason to believe otherwise."

Harry really doesn't want to have to see another dead body for awhile -- but it was all the more sore that he discovered it to be someone he had helped before.

Like getting punched in the gut, really.

"I didn't expect it before -- and I don't know what to expect from you now. Whether you like it or not, I don't want you by yourself. Understand?"


James is irritated now, and it shows a little. He sighs as he sits back down, hoping he can persuade the other man to believe otherwise. He wants to be alone, and he doesn't need protection from himself. He just needs time to think, to calm down; and maybe after that, then, he can think about repaying the man who keeps helping him (whether he wants it or not).

"Harry, I appreciate what you've done," he tries, doing his best to find the quickest, most easy way out of this, "but I don't need you to watch me. Dying here is...pointless." When he pauses this time, it's obvious who he's thinking about. His features soften slightly, with regret, maybe, but only for a handful of seconds. He's up again and heading for the door, despite what he'd been asked.

"Look, I'll check in later if you want." He shouldn't have to. His fingers wrap around the doorknob, head turned. "...But you look like hell. I don't think you could stay awake any longer if you wanted to."


"Great, and was it supposed to achieve something before? I didn't exactly have a field day dealing with it, and I'm not looking forward to a second round." He starts to move, but it's met with a stumble; Harry's hand catches onto the edge of the table to keep himself standing -- though more like kneeling.

Damn it.

He does what he usually does, though; Harry starts to second guess himself. Maybe James really won't try it again. Maybe he just needs time, who the hell knows? And maybe it was just Harry's fault for not being more careful.

Who the hell knows -- but Harry can't keep this up, he knows it.

"Promise you won't do it again," Harry mutters, not happy with this choice. "And check in soon."


Again, James looks none too pleased with that response, but chooses not to respond. Just as he opens the door, he hears Harry stumble, and turns back around despite the urge not to. Honestly, he just wants to go back to his room and not feel guilty anymore, but the man is kneeling now, holding onto the table for what little support it was giving him, and he finds himself stalling.

James walks back over then, but passes the man on the floor to reach over for the bottle left on his table. He picks it up, makes sure the glass beside it is empty, then heads back towards the door to take his leave as earlier planned, hopefully giving Harry an idea of what not to do any more of. And how ironic, that, the suicidal man trying to save Harry Mason from a hangover he is already destined to wake up to.

"...I will," he says, though it hardly sounds promising, and with that, makes his way out the door and closes it behind him.