Enamoured

Dillon finally stopped thinking about motive and just gave in to the music. God, he loved music so damn much. It was the sound of the soul, and his was currently engaged in an intimate dance to it with Isaac's. It didn't need words, it didn't need actual meaning. It was just pure feeling and emotion. He could play with his eyes closed. He could almost see Isaac smirking gently as he pictured them literally dancing together. He almost didn't care about the dark look he could see there in his reflection's eyes. There was no way a mind reading shapeshifter could make him feel this way. He finally understood that Isaac wasn't just some corrupted glitched out copy. Isaac was an actual part of him who'd always been there. Isaac was that other voice in his head. He didn't know how to feel or what to do about any of it, he just knew now. This must have been Isaac's motive after all. If it was a trap, he knew he was falling for it hard. Could they get rid of Issac even if they wanted to now? Could Dillon?

The song was coming to a close. It saddened Dillon. He wanted to launch right into another song with Isaac, maybe- the sound from outside drew his eyes to the window, causing a shriek from his violin (rather than him, thankfully.) The sight outside the window was straight out of a horror movie (which Dillon never watched because he was a huge wuss who couldn't stand the sight of people in pain and distress.) It was safe to say the scene in the window made his spine crawl and his shoulders jump. He was frozen on the spot, no idea what to do, then he heard T crying and scream out. The sight of T in such pain crushed his heart.

He dropped the violin on the floor in a way that would have normally caused him physical agony, but he really didn't care just now. He moved to hurry to T's side, but suddenly Isaac's arms were wrapped around him, stopping him. Dillon was in a panic. Isaac had chosen a perfect horrible moment to turn, he'd just had to be patient-

"Wait," said Isaac in his ear, struggling against him. "Just wait!"

They continued to struggle until the window shattered and the terrifying Other T climbed through, not seeming to care as he cut himself on the jagged edges.

"Wait. Just. Fucking. Wait," said Isaac in his ear sounding almost angry, but more just seriously desperate.

Reluctantly, Dillon stopped struggling. He wasn't getting anywhere like that. Instead, he watched the horrible scene unravel. He was surprised when Isaac slowly let go of him, but he stayed put.

He flinched somewhat and raised his hands slightly on instinct when one gun was pointed his way. The "boyfriend" comment flew right over his head, but that part really wasn't what he was concerned about.

Other T's attention returned to real (or at least friendlier) T, but the threat of the gun remained.

Isaac took a very careful step forward from behind him so they could see each other. Amazingly, they managed to somehow have a whole silent conversation with each other consisting of nothing but looks and slight gestures. They both knew sign language, but it was far too overt. There was no magical psychic link as far as either could tell, yet somehow, they could convey the thoughts to each other clearly.

Isaac jerked his head toward T's "other", lifting his hands slightly with a worried look. We should do something.

Dillon shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, eyes wide. Like fucking what? He glanced toward the gun aimed toward them.

Isaac watched the scene again for a brief moment. He almost looked like he was calm, but concentrating. His eyes widened just slightly like he'd realized something or had an idea. He looked back and gave a short confident nod. It's fine.

Dillon's eyes narrowed slightly and his head turned a few degrees. What?

Isaac made a gun shape with his hand and a subtle swiping motion with his other, letting go of the gun shape. He gave another little nod. It's fine.

Dillon wasn't clear at all on what exactly that meant, all he could figure out was that apparently the gun wasn't a problem anymore… or it wouldn't be? His shoulders slowly shrugged upward and the corner of his mouth drew sideways. He gave Isaac an unsure look, glancing at the firearm again. You're sure?

Isaac turned slightly to face the action a little more. He nodded again. It's fine. He glanced down at himself and looked Dillon up and down. They were both scrawny. He held out two fingers. This is gonna take both of us.

Dillon was afraid, but if the gun really wasn't a problem…. His shoulders stayed shrugged, but he nodded reluctantly. I don't like this, but fine. His eyes narrowed. You better know what you're doing.

Isaac rolled his eyes with a gentle smirk. Always. He held out three fingers. Then two.

Dillon tensed, but readied himself. It was quite the distance and any bullet would be much faster than either of them. He prayed Isaac wasn't about to get them all killed.

On one, they both rushed forward. There was the click of the trigger, but no bang or bullet. They tackled Other T to the ground, both struggling with him and one or both receiving a blow or two, (it was hard to say who in the commotion when they both received the damage) but there was a series of clicks as Isaac cuffed one of Other T's wrists and pulled the arm back. Dillon helped him with the other arm and they managed to cuff both hands behind his back. He was writhing, trying to buck them off, but apparently his window stunt had affected him more than he was letting on.

"I got him!" said Isaac, pressing his knee into Other T's back and keeping a tight grip on his wrists despite the cuffs, likely afraid they could vanish. They always thought sports were useless, so apparently those self defense classes they'd barely managed to pass had paid off. Unless Other T had a sudden surge of power, he wasn't going anywhere under Isaac.

Once he was sure the situation was under control, he hurried to T's side with a first aid kit. "You alright, man? It's okay. It's gonna be okay…"

T's forehead was purple from the broken blood vessels between the skin and the skull rupturing, causing a nasty bruise. He likely had a concussion as well. He didn't think any less of T for the tears, in fact, he barely noticed them as he fussed over him. He took an ice pack, wrapped it in a towel, and so very gently touched it to T's forehead. He took T's uninjured hand and guided it up to have him hold the ice pack. He took his other hand and pulled the sleeve up. The leather gloves the Other wore had protected from the glass somewhat, but punching through glass and climbing through it still managed to leave deep cuts. He grabbed a little spray bottle. "It's not the kind that hurts, I swear," he said as he sprayed it over the wounds. He knew this place was probably sterile as hell, but he was too paranoid about it to risk it. He started expertly bandaging the cuts, his hands shaking in worry and his heart pounding with adrenaline. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

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