Another Year Older - Beyril's Apartment (MATURE) (Lani and Beyril)

She paused in her tracks, the gentle cracking of his voice and the dim light causing a frantic rhythm to beat out in her chest, "Tony..? Is everything okay?" Her voice cracked a bit, a paranoia laced behind her words from a way she wasn't used to being spoken to lately. Frequently that tone had been accompanied by bad news.

The diary hit the floor in a fury, and in the same flash, he was in front of her, collapsed to his knees in front of her, arms wrapping tightly around her race. "You're mine," the muffled words were broken, "and I love you." A series of sputtering followed, making it clear that he was incapable of formulating further words.

Beyril heard the thud and saw the fluttering of pages hit the ground and the reaction seemed to make sense. Her heart still thrummed and pounded in her chest, all anxiety and fear even though she knew now that he wasn't mad at her, she still couldn't seem to sort through what she was feeling. She let her bag slide off of her shoulder as she worked her hands through his hair, holding him close with shaking fingers before her knees started to give and she crumpled on the floor next to him, her head resting just below his chin as she tried to keep level breathing, hoping she wouldn't cry. Her voice broke softly, speaking before she knew that doing so wouldn't result in waterworks, but not wanting him to go uncomforted, even when the thing he needed comforting from was her own trauma, "I love you too, Tony. More than you know." Her fingers wrapped and clung to his shirt, a way of pressing herself Into him as much as she could without tackling him.

His arms and legs wrapped around her instinctively, pulling her tightly into his embrace. "You're mine... I don't... blame you for anything."

Beyril nodded against his chest, trying to stammer out an example lanation, "I-I'm sorry you ha-had to see it th-this way... I tried to tell you... I-I just c-couldn't get the words out..." She squeezed her eyes shut, the dampness running her mascara together and sticking her top eyelashes to the bottom. She tried not to cry but as soon as she was able to inhale, the next exhalation brought with it a weak sobbing sound, all composure lost.

Fingers flew to her hair as he hushed her, cooing softly as he brushed through her hair, nuzzling her and attempting to offer reassurances that all was well.

It took several minutes for her to be able to breathe steadily again, the tears briefly turning into a bout of hyperventilating before her eyes dried and she kept muttering, "I'm sorry" into his chest.

He could barely make out her words but knew that she said them, could barely feel the shaking of her small form, but he knew it was there. Even the shattered edges of her heart were all but undetectable, but he felt them, nonetheless; as always, he continued to vow that he would rather slice himself to shreds on them trying to help piece them back together than ever step away from the wounds. His words did not formulate, did not reach her with any form of coherence, but there was a solidity to his motives, to his forgiveness that was unwarranted, for nothing that had occurred was of any fault of her own. Still, they were there, broken whispers that cooed and lulled in the absence of coherence.

It took a while for her to cry out the hurt, and it was harder for her to start to feel warm again than she remembered, but then again, she hadn't ever really cried about it before. It hurt still afterward. She wanted to just be able to cry and move on, but wounds sometimes took a while to heal, even with a little coaxing. She was more than aware of how people don't really fix each other. They just take the strain off. Beyril was quiet for a bit, just letting Tony's warm arms and chest sort of fill her, before she kissed his cheek. She felt it was sort of a sad, anticlimactic gesture given what had just occurred, but she didn't know what else to do. Words didn't come to her here; just a simple touch of her soft lip grazing the slightly rough edge of his cheek where he hadn't shaved that morning.

The tender gesture was enough to remind him that he had neglected his own self in his attempts to try to brighten up her day, but it was nonetheless enough to being to quell the storm. Ice met her pale green as he forced a light smile onto his face, understanding and yet not all at once. He was poor with emotions, either extreme, off-base, or seemingly impartial entirely. Still, he had been doing what he could to try to understand her, to figure out what she meant without her being able to communicate the thoughts and feelings herself. It was slow progress, but progress regardless. "What..." his voice came out hoarse and almost croaked, and he fought to clear his throat before returning to the phrasing, "what do you want to do, fenices?"

She listened to the sound of Akira's giant feet getting up on a table, likely hanging decorations, and smiled even though her cheeks were damp, "We should probably get something to drink..." she fidgeted with her hands, "My throat gets dry when I cry."

"No alcohol," he stated softly, a gentle warning and reminder that didn't actually even need to be said. 'I will warn you that Akira was still strutting around naked the last I saw him."

"I meant water." she chuckled slightly, still warmed by the concern nonetheless, "Does that mean you want to get it and I can change out of work clothes?"

Tony made a mock, light-hearted groaning sound, shaking his head. "Ya know, the thong is just for comfort and show. I don't actually like it up the ass. Or, at least, dicks in general." Still, he shrugged, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead as he stood, aiding her in rising. "I'll get it. Doll yourself up however you wish."

Beyril nodded, blushing pink beneath her sprinkling of star-like freckles. "I will. Thank you."

"I love you." He said, voice both soft and firm at the same time, "You and your beautiful soul."

"You'd know." She teased with a wink, bouncing up onto her toes to kiss his forehead, "I love you too."

"You'll break yourself, you keep trying that," he teased, tapping her nose before departing the room to retrieve refreshments.

Akira had actually put on both pants and a shirt, miraculously enough. He glanced over his shoulder as he hung up streamers, "She doing okay?" he asked, almost nonchalantly, but the fact that he bothered asking at all was indicator that he was concerned. Akira always hated small talk.

"Well enough to walk on her own," Tony clarified, moving to the fridge to retrieve the filter pitcher. "Restrained, nonetheless, but... eh," He shrugged, playing tough and cool, "she needed to cry."

"And you?" Akira asked again, trying to guesstimate how long the streamer should be.

Tony shrugged, pouring the glasses, "I still want to punch through a wall, but I doubt that'll do me a lick of good."

"I've got one in the kitchen of the project house that needs torn down if you wanna take a swing at it." he offered, understanding the violent outbursts entirely.

Tony snorted, shaking his head, "You know the girls wouldn't forgive either of us if we got hurt. Worrywarts."

Akira shrugged, "Why do you think construction has been so slow?"