12451/Ferris Wheel Lights

Ferris Wheel Lights
Date of Scene:	17 August 2022
Location:	Coney Island
Synopsis:	Sometimes a relationship consists of two people with a propensity for avoiding talking about their issues- but there is only so much running away you can do before you eventually run into each other.
Cast of Characters:	Terry O'Neil, Gar Logan

---

Terry O'Neil has posed:
There are fireworks every Friday at Luna Park, which stays open until almost midnight during the Summer. The Coney Clipper flips nearby, accompanied by the thriller screams of its passengers as they go upside-down for a few moments, but the noise is drowned out by the rattling of the Cyclone. Overhead, people dance across the sky as far up as 100 feet in their double-seat open-air chairs, which in turn are attached to the famous Brooklyn Flyer by sturdy chains.

Luna Park is in full swing on this Friday night, just a few minutes before most rides stop and fireworks show starts. Terry O'Neil is wandering through the crowds, just your usual everyday red-headed human boy passing through the throng like a little saiboat among cruise liners. He is doing an admirable job of balancing two funnel cakes on his left arm, while he texts with his free hand:

<<Greenie, where are you? I've got the funnel cakes! I'm by-->> he glances up at the nearest ride, and has to smirk to himself, <<The Tea Party>> because of course he was. <<You feeling too shy to pull a public appearance? Shall I meet you on the boardwalk instead?>> he teases.

Gar Logan has posed:
<<I'm around.>> Gar's response is not a very elaborate one. At times he goes through moody spells, and the last few days have been one of them. No predictability, no rhyme or reason to it. Everyone goes through a funk at one time or another, and that particular bug has bit the green one.

Often one to be the center of attention, he's gone over to a quieter section of the boardwalk and waterfront, not far from the old carousel and the ballpark. A good spot to see the fireworks from without being too close. He texts a picture of his view. <<Can you find me?>> Maybe he really isn't feeling too social.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry raises an eyebrow and hmms. <<Always>> he sends in a text, being as vague as his boyfriend, and then slips into the crowd. The view is familiar, although exactly where is still something he'll need to figure out. He could cheat- he could cheat so badly, because he could use a Rabbit Hole to go to that exact place, now that he's seen the view.

But Gar wouldn't want him to cheat, would he?

<<I just went into the Tea Party to find you and the Hatter says that you owe him five bucks, by the way.>>

He walks out of the farthest section of the park, past Paul's Daughter and turns on the boardwalk, making his way and texting, the funnel cakes carefully balanced.

<<I just asked Paul's Daughter about you and she says she doesn't know you- I must be so cold, I'm on a polar expedition, right?>>

Gar Logan has posed:
Where Gar sits, atop a bench, he does so in casualwear. With a hot dog of his own from Nathan's, it's all that's left of a few he'd already finished off. <<Didn't see him. Not since you got back.>> he says of the Mad Hatter.

When told of the restaurant Terry checked in at, Gar swings his legs back and forth a few times, like a kid might. <<Cold enough that you'd need a few extra layers.>> An image is sent over of the old parachute jump, which hasn't been used in ages, but has been renovated so it lights up at night.

He lets out a slow breath, going back to the last hot dog, looking out into the relative darkness of the ocean to the south.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
<<Or maybe a warm snuggle.>>

The texts from Terry come at random spurts, often distracted, usually silly. But finally, the wild red hair makes an appearance, as does his usual smile as he approaches the bench.

"What's a handsome guy like you doing in a place like this?" he says. Phone pocketed, he offers one of the funnel cakes to Gar, the way one would offer flowers.

Gar Logan has posed:
It's unlike Gar not to text back..much, but that's what happens. Maybe a 'Heh' or two, but he's firmly in place by the time Terry gets across almost the entire boardwalk to reach him. "Oh, hey," he answers, looking down at the funnel cake that ends up in his hands. He checks it for warmth. Not much of that left unless Terry cheated to close the distance. "Thanks."

He holds it there for the time being, looking at it before his eyes pass over Terry and return to the open area ahead. "You know. Thinking. Or trying to." More of an afterthought, he adds, "What about you?" His voice is flat, lacking the usual energy and enthusiasm.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry frowns slightly and slides into place on the bench, one arm around Gar's back, eyes cast ahead. "Oh, you know. Just being here with my guy," he says, in a quiet and mellow tone. Terry knows these funks. It isn't the side of Gar Logan you see in public, where he's expected to be loud, cheerful and funny.

But sometimes, it seems to Terry that Gar turns into something very small and hides, even without physically doing it. He doesn't quite know how to act, then, except to perhaps be as big and as secure as possible in contrast to Gar. Be someone around whom it is safe to be small and quiet.

"And what is it that you're thinking. Or trying to?"

Gar Logan has posed:
Gar Logan reaches down for a nibble at the funnel cake. Doesn't seem to matter whether it's warm or not. It's there to be eaten, so that's what he does with it.

This /does/ run some risk of others spotting them, coming up and expecting Gar to be his usual energetic self. There have been many times where he could just turn it on for strangers wanting a moment so they could come away from it feeling special.

Instead, the shoulders slump. He does get a little smaller, figuratively speaking. "Sometimes you just don't have it, you know? And you can have people around who like you and all, but it just doesn't matter." There's a lean closer, subtle but there. "Sometimes it's hard being me when I'm supposed to be what everyone else wants."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry's hand rests on Gar's shoulder, and adds a little pull, indicating Gar can lean in on him if he so chose.

"Do you want to unpack some of that with me?" he says quietly, leaning his head in to touch Gar's, his green eyes are keeping watch of anyone potentially approaching them.

"There's a word you used there that is pretty loaded. Supposed. When you're supposed to be what everyone else wants." He purses his lips and steals a glance at Gar, "The problem with supposing so much is that you end up being a suppository, and suppositories tend to vanish up- well, you know."

His fingers gently stroke the back of Gar's hair, "You are supposed to be this 'always on' Logan... according to whom?" He glances back at Gar, "The public?" A pause. Eyebrows up. "You?"

Gar Logan has posed:
A slight lean further, but Gar braces and steadies himself with his legs, sneakers flat against the seat of the bench. Terry gets to be the eyes and ears around them, though Gar merely looks at him after the joke in such a way that he might be silently asking 'Did you really just make /that/ joke?'

Instead of responding to that, he lets his eyes drift shut at the contact, letting loose a longer breath once again. "Does it matter who? A big part of me is just..fake, and sometimes I just feel tired of it. You didn't know me when I joined the Titans. I was a jerk. I'll bet half the team wanted to kick me out, and they wouldn't have been wrong. But they didn't, and it took.." He gestures at everything and nothing, waving a free hand.

"I'm not really making sense, but you don't know how many times I was the center of attention but I felt like I was the only one there," he murmurs. "And that's kind of where I am right now."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry's funnel cake rests by his side of the bench, forgotten, while his arm keeps itself around Gar, reassuring. "You were a kid who went through a lot. You probably had an attitude. Something to prove. You weren't a jerk."

He sighs quietly, "Fake. That's a harsh word. Maybe it's better to say that sometimes... you wear a mask? Everybody does, to some degree or another. Mom wears that tough one, but when I was a kid I'd hear her cry in her room at night, when she thought I was asleep and I couldn't hear her." He strokes Gar's hair again, gently, his fingers moving in slow circles. "I wore a mask around you for some time, afraid that you'd reject me so I didn't really say what I felt. I pretended a lot of things that weren't true... but was I being fake, or was I trying to protect myself?"

"This isn't news to me, you know. Remember when we started dating and I told you that you were trying very hard to be liked by everybody? You asked me what was wrong with that- and I didn't really push further, because I figured there would be a time when it would come up again. The thing is... honey, if you're always looking towards being liked by others, it might be because you don't like /yourself/..." he trails off, and then starts up again, "And I think that'd be a /shame/ because there's so much to /like/ about you. I know what you're like without the mask and I'm crazy about you. What does that tell you?"

He seems to think of something for a moment, and then he shakes his head with a slight smile.

"I know you had it very hard, Gar. But it's interesting to look at us in this light: You have been at times the golden boy- you were part of a super team, adored by the public, starred in movies, are /famous/. I was the kid nobody took notice of and everybody overlooked. Then I suddenly get a chance to turn that around- suddenly people notice me. Some people know who I am. Some people apparently are fans of me." He winces, "Some people draw art of me I need brain bleach to forget. And yet..." he rests his head on Gar's shoulder, "And yet we both have always wanted to be accepted and be liked. To be told that we're worth something and that we belong. And even when it's being told to us... we still want it to be said again and again?" Suddenly, Terry's attitude back at the medbay might make a lot more sense.

Gar Logan has posed:
Gar Logan grimaces. "Sometimes I still think you spend too much time around Harley." Chances are this is one of those times. "Yeah, I hide stuff. Everyone does. But a lot of the time, I don't have a filter either. I know how I acted around your mother, and around that other..Troia. Some of that was that other side in me, but it mostly came from me. That's the way I am."

Rise and fall of the chest, a deeper breath that comes from him thinking about things, but also the attention being paid. His hands rest in his lap, whatever remains of the food set aside for the moment. "I mean, kind of, yeah. Sometimes I don't know what everyone sees in me. But I've been lucky, too. All that is true, and some of that comes with the territory for us. I know I've had it good. In fact, I probably have just about everything I've ever wanted now, so I don't know why I still feel like this."

He holds up a hand, quickly. "That's not an invitation to keep playing psychiatrist."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry frowns and sits back a little, looking slightly annoyed. "I didn't think I /was/ playing psychiatrist. I thought we were talking." He reaches for the funnel cake and starts munching on it now, not caring about it being cold. It goes quite quickly, as all funnel cakes do.

"I admitted I'm having problems too..." he slides off the bench and stretches his legs, strolling in the direction of the old carousel, where an ornate trash can is visible. Terry starts crinkling am bunching up the tissue paper the funnel cake came in, rolling it up into a neat little ball.

Gar Logan has posed:
Gar Logan shuts his eyes at the immediate reaction. "That's..not how I meant it to sound."

Regardless, he lets Terry have his space, exhaling as he goes from looking straight ahead to tracking the guy's location. "Yeah, I think we're going through some of the same stuff, just in different ways. You almost..got stuck in Wonderland, and even if someone said we'd find a way through it, I couldn't help but worry about how long it'd take, or if you'd be okay, or everything else. Just being able to talk in a dream wasn't enough."

He clears his throat, into a hand. Then he's quiet for a few more seconds. "Sorry. I don't say the right thing all the time."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
The paper ball flies and flies, not towards the trash can, but Gar, to gently bounce off his head.

"Stop it!" Terry says, looking more irritated, "You stop that right this minute Garfield Mark Logan. You don't /have/ to say the right thing all of the time, and you don't have to beat yourself up if you don't. Do you think I expect that out of you?"

Terry frowns some more, crosses his arms and leans back against the trash can, "Because I don't You don't have to apologize to me and you don't have to beat yourself up. I'd say more but-" he exhales, "That'd involve talking about our issues. And I think we should, but I am getting the feeling that we're of two minds about this."

Gar Logan has posed:
Gar Logan watches the path of the paper ball. Not that he can't avoid it, but to see if it actually hits the mark. When it does, he barely flinches at it. Not like it's a medicine ball. That would be considerably more painful.

"Okay, okay! I give!" he exclaims, shaking his head vehemently for a few seconds. "That wasn't what I meant! ..again." He clears his throat and finally gets up from his perch to pace about, much like Terry had been.

"I hope this doesn't mean we, like, need couples therapy so we can talk through our problems, because they're not /those/ kinds of problems. We're just kind of broken in ways, but most of us are. That makes us, you know, unique. Doesn't it?" He stuffs his hands into his pockets, head tilting toward Terry in that way he just has.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"We don't have problems with each other, we have problems with ourselves. And that's what I'm trying to tell you. Maybe we could help each other if we talk more about that? I get it that you feel you have to be everybody's friend, liked by all... and that often means keeping problems to yourself because of the notion that people don't want to hear your problems."

He raises an eyebrow, "Except I'm not some rando on the internet asking you for a selfie. I'm your boyfriend and I kind of expect this sort of stuff would be talked about. I mean..." his shoulders raise, "You've gone through a /lot./ But you do so much." He sighs a little, "You're always trying to put the brave face on, the cheerful side. No Troubles Logan. And when you sap yourself out of energy and can't do it any longer for a while, you feel guilty."

He looks down, his demeanor thoughtful. "But you don't see me running away when you get like this. I was hoping it'd be a sign that I'm not going to run away if you just come to me and tell me you are feeling unhappy. Or dissatisfied. Or that you hate yourself. You don't have to hide from me. You don't ha-AAAH!"

Terry leans back too much against the trash can, and he and the can tilt back, crashing to the ground.

Gar Logan has posed:
"Ahh..yeah. Of course. No problem. Talk more. About stuff," Gar answers in a sort of staccato way. It isn't to make light of things or mock the situation they're in. It just comes out a little clipped.

He adds, "Most people don't want to hear about everyone else's problems, because then they have to think about their own sooner or later. Lots of animals in the wild try to hide their weaknesses, like if they're hurt, because they're more like prey to something else. And we all just want to be liked and accepted, don't we? Even if we act like we don't care, we do."

It's not like he doesn't get it. "But you're right. I keep trying to be this one thing without letting the other things out more. We Titans look out for each other. I..I /know/ that's why they didn't all just push me away before. I think at least some of them knew something was up." He still sounds a little downbeat, but talking it out is already making some progress. "I know you were doing the 'I should go away' thing back there, and I got frustrated by it. I guess it's not that different right now. We--"

He winces at the lack of grace in both man and trash can toppling over, and right about that time the first firework explodes up above. Coming over to offer a hand up, he gestures skyward. "How about we just enjoy the show for now?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry owwws, "I think I broke my butt, Gar. I don't think I'll ever be able to get up ever again," he says, still on his back and rubbing the area that landed first. "My career as a crimefighter is over. I can't fight crime without a butt, not in a team that has Nightwing in it."

He winces, and then glances at Gar's hand just as the fireworks start exploding above them.

"Sure... I can dig that for now..." he reaches for the hand-

And pulls hard, to see if he can get Gar to land on top of him.

Gar Logan has posed:
"That just means you need better cushioning," Gar japes, and it just..comes out, because that's the way he is. "And I'm not asking you to describe mine!" Besides, he's heard that opinion a few times already, including when Terry didn't think he heard, including seeing /that/ folder of old fanfic.

Of course, he lands where Terry hopes for him to, and it's likely he could have avoid that if he really wanted to. "Dork, this isn't a comfortable place. At least we could go over to the sand."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"I think I would very much like to go over to the sand," Terry says with a slight smile, and a hand across Gar's hair. "We'll talk. Later. But for the record? I'm all into hearing about your problems. I love you, baggage and all, Gar Logan. And if you haven't figured it out yet, I'm sticking around for good." He leans in to kiss Gar-

And playfully pushes him off from him instead, "Now if you want a kiss, come and help my broken butt to the sand where I can properly kiss you under the fireworks." He grins.

"Dork."