Oscar is glad for the silence, for him and for Clement. It's a good thing and he needs to take a bit of time to calm down, having thought that he would have come in to find...Varker in a far worse state then he was. Maybe he should ask if Trevor wanted a heating pad or something.
He stirred at the sound of his partner's voice, and blinked, before offering a slow nod. "Yes. If you feel-if you feel ready."
Because clearly Varker was heartsore and full of grief. More then usual.
"No one's ever ready, or prepared enough to rip their heart out, Oscar. It just happens." He lifts his head just a little so he can rest his chin on his arm and looks down at him from his spot on the floor.
"We launched Varika in 1992, but in 1991, Simon Birkov married, and Mackenzie was born. He was my god son, poor choice on Simon's part, Steward would have been better, but it worked out when he discovered we were more than friends that same year."
He hummed because...well, how many times did he feel his heart was ripped out, by his own actions or another? Rarely, thankfully.
"He likely thought that you two would look out for him together." Or it might have been for...various other reasons. But he watched him, and thought of the baby Mackenzie must have been. So small and precious.
What ever the reason, Mackenzie had grown up loved, "we did, when Simon's wife insisted they get away. But Simon? I heard him threaten a child with burning their house down for bullying his son once. He was...overly protective." To a neurotic degree, but no one really expected what happened later.
Varker sighs heavily and runs his hand through his hair, pulling at it, "when it was time for him to go to college, we all ganged up on Simon, convinced him to let him enjoy dorm life. We'd done it, it would be good for both of them." He laughs humorlessly and buries his face in his arm, shaking his head.
It should have been fine. But accidents aren't something anyone can predict.
Varker's fingers tighten in his hair. He'd paused not for dramatic affect, but because it was a hard thing to talk about even now. Or perhaps especially now, because Mackenzie was alive again, and he shouldn't be.
"G-gas explosion. A freak accident" The word is mumbled, catching his lip with his teeth just long enough to split it and softly swear. He still forgets he can't do that any more. "He survived the initial explosion, but... there was nothing they could do. I thought Simon was going to murder the trauma team when they gave him the news..."
He hadn't blamed him for it, or thought much of it. It was Simon, of course he would if his son was clinging to life and yet nothing could be done to save him.
Perhaps as a request for something less than smothering his hand reaches out across the table, palm up. He wants something, but doesn't at the same time and that feels like a happier medium.
"He and his wife separated shortly after the funeral. He claimed it was because they had a difference of opinion on what grieving looked like, but he had barely taken two days off. Half when he got the news, and one for the service."
Varker's head hits the table, slipping off his arm, "he asked me to help him, he wanted to try reproducing the serum that made- made Audrey, and I refused. What he was talking about, we'd never be able to do it in a way that was legal, ethical. But he didn't care, and...I thought, if I just let it go, kept my eye off what he was doing, it...it would be fine. That's what he needed. Abandonment wearing the guise of 'healthy distance'." He hates himself for it, and its clear as he speaks about it.
"Everything that happened afterward, I enabled him to do it. So I do owe him... but I owed it to Mackenzie too, to take care of his father, and I failed him."
Oscar moved forward to lightly touch their fingers together. Not a full on grasp, but a touch, if that was anchoring enough.
And he listened, trying not to grimace. Difference in grief indeed. He loved his boy so much that he did what many parents would try to do- get his son back.
But he thought about it. Owing...being owed. He shook his head, but he was frowning, thoughtful.
"Simon paid you back by harming you, harming Stew to the point that it killed him. Not to mention all of the people of the company. I don't know if owing is...the correct term, Clement."
His pointer and middle fingers curl, pressing against Oscars fingers with a gentle pressure. It's not much but its enough, and unlike fully grasping his hand, he doesn't mind it so much.
"He lost his mind, Oscar. Simon isn't Simon any more. I let go of his hand, and I let him fall. That's who I owe it to, not... not the fucked up thing I refused to look at, who he became." He can't look at Oscar, because he doesn't really want to know what he might think of him. He hasn't even mentioned what he did to Audrey, how he'd abandoned her too, but perhaps he still wants to hold his hand.
Oscar is a much better person than he is after all.
It's the lightest touch to keep them connected. He liked that it was a connection for the both of them to appreciate.
"That is...perhaps I was focusing my words on the wrong thing." He focused on the sensation of their fingers just touching. It was a marvel, he thought. Touch. How anchoring it could be.
"Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends." He sighed, and looked up to Clement. "Were you the only one that could have reached to Simon, helped him in his time of need? His wife, his family, his friends, his coworkers? Is this all on you, a chain around your neck?"
Gentle questions, as he kept their fingers touching.
Varker goes silent, staring at the table, letting the scent of Stewards cologne try to ground him as much as the touch.
But...perhaps he had been looking at it wrong. "I never got to speak to him, after he let me loose...but perhaps thats why he consumed Varika... it wasn't just an extension of my punishment, he-" he sucks in a breath, it was everyone he'd worked with? But that seemed..? He shakes his head, sitting up and talking quickly, distressed.
"No, no...that can't be right. He was private, he even- Birkov didnt even want a seat on the board when we built it together, he wasn't social...it's- It's my fault. I even kept Stew from him, he had no idea what he was doing, because I lied to him about the books..."
"Let you loose, like you were cage." He hated that for Clement, and he had seen in the months in how much pain and terror that his partner had gone through. How the scent of Stew was keeping him from breaking down again in the same day.
"He did not have a Church, a social group, people he worked with closely, his other friends his wife's family and community...he did not reach for your hand. He demanded a miracle from your hands. Is that an act of a friend?"
He blew out a breath. "Did you truly keep Stew from him? Or did you just make sure Stew didn't see the numbers?"
Varker would raise an eyebrow at Oscar if he could. He basically was. He might be upset but he at least has enough tact to not go into gross detail about how he'd been tortured in a basement while tied to a chair.
"I was ignoring his calls, Oscar. For six years, I made up every excuse." He sits up, breaking the connection to hit his fist against his chest, "I'm a terrible person, and a worse friend. S-stop trying to make excuses for me, I don't deserve it."
He isn't touching the comment on Steward, he doesn't have the strength or will.
He did love those eyebrows, when he had them. And, well, Clement had been tortured. Oscar just hoped those memories were still not there, as a blessing.
"No, I'm giving Simon his automy back. You were a coward. I won't pretend you weren't. You were afraid, and also grieving. Let's not forget that either. However."
He pointed at Clement. "He made the choices to go down this road. Did he apologize, ever, for asking for the serum? He is a man, and your friend. Was your friend."
He leaned forward. "He killed your friend. He killed your Simon, even if you dodged his calls. You are not perfect. You screwed up. But. You can't take his choices from him. And it is not your fault for being here now."
"Simon lost his son, suddenly and horribly. That broke him, and the most I ever did in the aftermath of that was ask him if he wanted to spend some time at our house, and tell him to get fucking therapy." Varker was upset already, but he's starting to get angry, and with it some other emotion is twisting its way though.
His hand slams on the table, standing up so he can gesture more wildly, even exhausted as he was, "Every single time I ignored him, left him on read, that was a conscious decision I made. I understand that what he did- It...It was evil, but none of us are blameless, Oscar. I earned my place here, I deserve to be in hell, a-and I'm- I'm just..."
His breath stutters as he tries to keep up with how fast his heart is beating, "I'm the only one left with half a fucking mind who can pay for it, Oscar. I'm here to pay for it, a-and I am...I'm trying."
He listened quietly, and closed his eyes. Hearing that...well. It was a coward's move. Lightly, Oscar reached into his pocket to feel his rosary in his pocket, exhaling slowly. He had been cruel, pressing in while Clement had been feeling so low.
But. But. It was good to know. He needed to know. And Clement needed to say it to him to know he wouldn't just turn away.
"Yes. You're trying. You are trying now." He watched him for a few moments. "Clem. Look at me, and take in a deep breath. Please."
The hand that had slammed the table comes up to his chest, gripping his shirt as his whole system started to get overwhelmed. Each breath came too quickly, too short to help and it's times like these he feels like he's dying even though he's just in a room that usually brings him comfort, with a man he adores.
He isn't sure if it was just the stress, or the fact that he knows this isn't all of it, that there is more to tell and that little bit he keeps hidden away, the worst of his transgressions? He thinks Oscar might never look at him again if he confessed to it.
Still, even as Oscar speaks to him, his free hand grips the chair back, shutting his eyes tight and swaying a little, unsteady on his feet.
Oh Clement. His poor, dear Clement. He knew what this was. Everything had bubbled up and burst and now his mind and his heart was in utmost stress.
He kept his movements slow as he got up to his feet, letting go of his rosary in his pocket. He stood there, not wanting to set Clement off further to make him bolt.
"You don't have to look at me. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. Just breathe darling. Take in a nice, deep breath for me and hold it. Can you try? Try it. Please."
Varker's eyes squeeze more tightly shut, but he gives a slow nod. His breathing doesn't shift at all, but it's clear that he's at least trying to.
He shuffles back, almost tripping over the chair behind him and his back hits the wall. He sinks down against it, knees bent and legs askew as his ass hits the floor.
With his head in his hands, he tries harder to breath more evenly, deeply, but hes some ways to go.
One leg slides down to the floor slowly followed by the other. It wont be comfortable, or the same as on Oscar's couch, but he sucks in a deep, stuttering breath and says, "come here."
Struggling to regulate has him wanting pressure, the weight of Oscar against him more than a hand, one he might have squeezed the life out of anyways.
Varker's returned squeeze is just as tight, the pressure and weight forcing himself to slow down. It isnt perfect, but he can get his face in the other man's chest and just try to breathe while his whole body requests more oxygen.
Audrey gives him another little mlem on the chin since he's right there, and Varker slowly starts to breathe more regularly.
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He stirred at the sound of his partner's voice, and blinked, before offering a slow nod. "Yes. If you feel-if you feel ready."
Because clearly Varker was heartsore and full of grief. More then usual.
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"We launched Varika in 1992, but in 1991, Simon Birkov married, and Mackenzie was born. He was my god son, poor choice on Simon's part, Steward would have been better, but it worked out when he discovered we were more than friends that same year."
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"He likely thought that you two would look out for him together." Or it might have been for...various other reasons. But he watched him, and thought of the baby Mackenzie must have been. So small and precious.
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Varker sighs heavily and runs his hand through his hair, pulling at it, "when it was time for him to go to college, we all ganged up on Simon, convinced him to let him enjoy dorm life. We'd done it, it would be good for both of them." He laughs humorlessly and buries his face in his arm, shaking his head.
It should have been fine. But accidents aren't something anyone can predict.
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"But something happened when MacKenzie left home." Something that caused Simon to lose his mind with grief.
Cw: child death mention
"G-gas explosion. A freak accident" The word is mumbled, catching his lip with his teeth just long enough to split it and softly swear. He still forgets he can't do that any more. "He survived the initial explosion, but... there was nothing they could do. I thought Simon was going to murder the trauma team when they gave him the news..."
He hadn't blamed him for it, or thought much of it. It was Simon, of course he would if his son was clinging to life and yet nothing could be done to save him.
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Smothering even. But still, he ached with empathy. That poor boy.
"Clement..." He stopped, shaking his head, before sighing and gesturing for him to continue.
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"He and his wife separated shortly after the funeral. He claimed it was because they had a difference of opinion on what grieving looked like, but he had barely taken two days off. Half when he got the news, and one for the service."
Varker's head hits the table, slipping off his arm, "he asked me to help him, he wanted to try reproducing the serum that made- made Audrey, and I refused. What he was talking about, we'd never be able to do it in a way that was legal, ethical. But he didn't care, and...I thought, if I just let it go, kept my eye off what he was doing, it...it would be fine. That's what he needed. Abandonment wearing the guise of 'healthy distance'." He hates himself for it, and its clear as he speaks about it.
"Everything that happened afterward, I enabled him to do it. So I do owe him... but I owed it to Mackenzie too, to take care of his father, and I failed him."
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And he listened, trying not to grimace. Difference in grief indeed. He loved his boy so much that he did what many parents would try to do- get his son back.
But he thought about it. Owing...being owed. He shook his head, but he was frowning, thoughtful.
"Simon paid you back by harming you, harming Stew to the point that it killed him. Not to mention all of the people of the company. I don't know if owing is...the correct term, Clement."
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"He lost his mind, Oscar. Simon isn't Simon any more. I let go of his hand, and I let him fall. That's who I owe it to, not... not the fucked up thing I refused to look at, who he became." He can't look at Oscar, because he doesn't really want to know what he might think of him. He hasn't even mentioned what he did to Audrey, how he'd abandoned her too, but perhaps he still wants to hold his hand.
Oscar is a much better person than he is after all.
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"That is...perhaps I was focusing my words on the wrong thing." He focused on the sensation of their fingers just touching. It was a marvel, he thought. Touch. How anchoring it could be.
"Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends." He sighed, and looked up to Clement. "Were you the only one that could have reached to Simon, helped him in his time of need? His wife, his family, his friends, his coworkers? Is this all on you, a chain around your neck?"
Gentle questions, as he kept their fingers touching.
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But...perhaps he had been looking at it wrong. "I never got to speak to him, after he let me loose...but perhaps thats why he consumed Varika... it wasn't just an extension of my punishment, he-" he sucks in a breath, it was everyone he'd worked with? But that seemed..? He shakes his head, sitting up and talking quickly, distressed.
"No, no...that can't be right. He was private, he even- Birkov didnt even want a seat on the board when we built it together, he wasn't social...it's- It's my fault. I even kept Stew from him, he had no idea what he was doing, because I lied to him about the books..."
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"He did not have a Church, a social group, people he worked with closely, his other friends his wife's family and community...he did not reach for your hand. He demanded a miracle from your hands. Is that an act of a friend?"
He blew out a breath. "Did you truly keep Stew from him? Or did you just make sure Stew didn't see the numbers?"
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"I was ignoring his calls, Oscar. For six years, I made up every excuse." He sits up, breaking the connection to hit his fist against his chest, "I'm a terrible person, and a worse friend. S-stop trying to make excuses for me, I don't deserve it."
He isn't touching the comment on Steward, he doesn't have the strength or will.
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"No, I'm giving Simon his automy back. You were a coward. I won't pretend you weren't. You were afraid, and also grieving. Let's not forget that either. However."
He pointed at Clement. "He made the choices to go down this road. Did he apologize, ever, for asking for the serum? He is a man, and your friend. Was your friend."
He leaned forward. "He killed your friend. He killed your Simon, even if you dodged his calls. You are not perfect. You screwed up. But. You can't take his choices from him. And it is not your fault for being here now."
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His hand slams on the table, standing up so he can gesture more wildly, even exhausted as he was, "Every single time I ignored him, left him on read, that was a conscious decision I made. I understand that what he did- It...It was evil, but none of us are blameless, Oscar. I earned my place here, I deserve to be in hell, a-and I'm- I'm just..."
His breath stutters as he tries to keep up with how fast his heart is beating, "I'm the only one left with half a fucking mind who can pay for it, Oscar. I'm here to pay for it, a-and I am...I'm trying."
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But. But. It was good to know. He needed to know. And Clement needed to say it to him to know he wouldn't just turn away.
"Yes. You're trying. You are trying now." He watched him for a few moments. "Clem. Look at me, and take in a deep breath. Please."
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He isn't sure if it was just the stress, or the fact that he knows this isn't all of it, that there is more to tell and that little bit he keeps hidden away, the worst of his transgressions? He thinks Oscar might never look at him again if he confessed to it.
Still, even as Oscar speaks to him, his free hand grips the chair back, shutting his eyes tight and swaying a little, unsteady on his feet.
"I- I can't."
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Oh Clement. His poor, dear Clement. He knew what this was. Everything had bubbled up and burst and now his mind and his heart was in utmost stress.
He kept his movements slow as he got up to his feet, letting go of his rosary in his pocket. He stood there, not wanting to set Clement off further to make him bolt.
"You don't have to look at me. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. Just breathe darling. Take in a nice, deep breath for me and hold it. Can you try? Try it. Please."
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He shuffles back, almost tripping over the chair behind him and his back hits the wall. He sinks down against it, knees bent and legs askew as his ass hits the floor.
With his head in his hands, he tries harder to breath more evenly, deeply, but hes some ways to go.
Re: Cw: child death mention
But he did move to sit on the floor again, in his line of sight.
"I care for you very much. Keep breathing. You're doing wonderful. If you want my hand- just reach."
Even if it would be, no doubt, be a painful grip.
Re: Cw: child death mention
Struggling to regulate has him wanting pressure, the weight of Oscar against him more than a hand, one he might have squeezed the life out of anyways.
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Oscar came over, and opened up his arms to hug him tight.
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Audrey gives him another little mlem on the chin since he's right there, and Varker slowly starts to breathe more regularly.
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Gently, he tilted his head and kissed Audrey, nuzzling her and Clement. She'd been very quiet, and both deserved kisses.
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