khajidont | MoM IC Contact: TAKE TWO

[ She can't even reply to that part, she just has to bury her face in a pillow for embarrassment. Flattered?? Flustered?? Either way, it's definitely too much!!

It probably shouldn't be, considering they've been dating for five months, but even little statements like that feel monumental. God, she's a sap. ]

Yeah. Everything else I heard was awful, too, but I'm sure he's going to throw himself into the next four or five big messes without any idea what he's doing. [ Impulsive shonen types. They always do this. ] It's going to go very badly, for him.

Yeah. That sounds about right.

Thanks for the heads up. I'll add him to the list of Youths To Watch Out For.

[ It's a growing list. ]

[ there's a delay, with the typing dots and everything. ]

Are any of the youths NOT on that list?

Absolutely not.

You're screwed here either way, aren't you?

[ Normal kids? Forced into a terrifying world without their parents or anyone to guide them and left in flux for the rest of their sorry existence here, or at least until they, like Jaime and Ruka before them, grow up enough to simply be jaded about it. Kids who were already pretty screwed up by the time they showed up? Well, they speak for themselves. ]

Yeah.

Nobody ever focuses on the right things.

[ It's not that nobody cares about the kids who come through — in some cases, it's the opposite. So many people care, but it spreads responsibility too thin, weaving a net so wide that it catches nothing. They might get put in a house with adults now, but what happens when those guardians disappear? Who talks them through those loses and regains? They might get enrolled in school, but who helps them catch up when they lose weeks or months of classes to port-outs, or kidnappings, or some other disaster? How do they adjust if their friends skip forward years and decades on them, and they're left behind? ]

We should trade notes later.

Yeah. We can do that. I'm pretty sure that we have a

Unique perspective on things

And the closest thing to a sure thing, for whatever that's worth

It's worth something.

[ There's some dots for typing, there and gone for a moment, but... maybe he doesn't know he's dancing around the subject, but there's a reason she reached out, and it wasn't for the baby spider. ]

There was a guy on the network looking for you.
That's your old roommate, right?
From last year.

Yusuke.

Yeah that's him.

He remembers

[ There's a lot he could say - a lot that's on his mind. It doesn't come out. Not right now, anyway, not when Jaime's not sure how to put any of it into words. ]

[ That's one question answered, but it leaves too many in its wake. He remembers Jaime, but is he the same as Jaime remembers? Yusuke says he just lost the time, but that doesn't mean it's the truth; he could have gained months, years in his own world, and so become different. Jaime, certainly, has changed. Even just losing Yusuke for a few weeks had changed him. So many other things have, too, and he must know it. How wide has the gap gotten? Does the relief of seeing someone cherished again make up for the pain suffered, for the anxiety of a future loss that can't be quieted?

How on Earth is she supposed to ask any of that over a text? She can read him pretty well, but that's not good enough. Beyond that, would he even want to say? It had been excruciating trying to get him to say anything back then. Would he even want to bother now?

Even when it's a happy occasion, there's too much room to be hurt. ]

I'll be here when you get home

if you want

Edited 2019-09-01 07:55 (UTC)

Ok

Sounds good

[ He doesn't say much more than that - doesn't know what more to say. He's still figuring it out himself. He could argue that Ruka has more experience with this than he does, but that's not wholly accurate; he's got as much experience as she does, and it's still odd, complicated even if he's overjoyed to simply be able to see his friend again.

Ruka can always feel him return home, but she can hear him too. He's not subtle in the click of the door, the stomp of his boots, his low voice welcoming the dogs back home. As for what he's feeling?

It's complicated. He's happy. But there's a bittersweetness there too, and a certain timbre of fear that he always carries with him, only magnified, nerves rubbed red and raw. He doesn't waste much time in finding Ruka, wherever she's waiting for him, draping himself over her back, arms resting over her shoulders, cheek bumping against hers. ]

Hey.

[ He's obviously been crying from the redness of his eyes, a residual thickness of his voice as an indication that he'd at least stopped crying a while ago. He doesn't try to hide it anymore. Besides, they're happy tears. Right? ]

Hey.

[ He finds her in the kitchen, which is a little unusual for her for daylight hours — but she accepts the weight at her back and the warmth at her cheek with a little hum of acknowledgement. Her faces presses back a little against his; her hands slip to take his, bending his arms to wrap them against her ribs.

His heart beat is like the throbbing of an old bruise, freshly struck; it doesn't feel all bad, but it doesn't feel all good, either. It's a shade of familiar, but Jaime doesn't feel his hurts the way Ruka experiences hers; the fact that there's any spot of brightness is more than she can usually say for herself, when this happens. ]

Did you eat yet? [ She doubts it. He usually cooks, and he usually doesn't when he's upset. ] I was thinking we could do something simple tonight, if you haven't.

[ With a day like this, and the fact he's been crying already — even if he thinks he's ready to talk, she's pretty sure he'll need a little softer lead than all that. To feel a little more grounded. ]

Mm. I haven't. Just some coffee.

[ Coffee's generally got enough calories to get him through the day, on bad days - but that's only because of what he puts through it. It sure doesn't help with the jitteriness or the fact that Khaji likes to chide him about not getting enough nutrition in the day. That's the least of his problems, he always tells Khaji (to which he gets a grumbled rejoinder of it is statistically a very large problem), though he hasn't had a day where he's only eaten cereal out of the box since Ruka moved in. It's always easier to keep up good habits when you're around someone else, especially someone who you know has to eat too. He wraps his arms around her easily, slotting in there as though this is something they've been doing for years instead of a scant few months. She makes it easy to. ]

Simple sounds good. Maybe even some take-out.

[ look sometimes a bitch likes to be held. and sometimes, 'sometimes' actually means 'at all times.' ]

Maybe both? Or a snack, at least. You know delivery times are bad right now. [ Truly the biggest downside to Jaime's Moderately Normal-Person Hours: everyone else is using those hours for the same things, too. ] I know there's ice cream. Haven't checked what else.

Mmm, yeah. If we're really in a pinch, I can always pick something up later. Let Khaji drive.

[ Khaji will enjoy that. Jaime likes flying so much that he usually keeps it as a group effort, but sometimes it's easier to just turn off and let Khaji handle everything up until the point it's time to land and actually pick the dang thing up. Khaji's a big fan of frippery up until that point - there is no use in going as quickly or showboating as much as Khaji prefers aside from the sheer joy of it - but Jaime will never deny him that.

He only extracts one arm from her to fish around in his pocket to take out his phone before draping back over her, holding his phone in front of them with a handy dandy delivery app open. ]

What d'you want?

[ Apparently it's too much to ask for him to not drape himself on her even when choosing what to eat. But as long as Ruka never pushes him away from those empty places, he'll continue insinuating himself into her space. ]

Hmm...

[ It's not a thing she's used to, this kind of casually affectionate contact. Her powers have mostly forbidden it — between the danger of touch when that was the sole way her empathy worked in the years before now, and an earlier childhood where her only friends were invisible, intangible beings, when could she have ever acclimated to it? Even now, while it's something she can anticipate from Jaime, in theory, the reality of it still takes her by surprise. Unexpected, but comforting, all the same.

And if he's the one instigating, and able to find something soothing about it when he's been run so rough by everything else... it hardly counts as her being selfish, does it?

Oh, right. Dinner. She doesn't take the phone, but she does start scrolling through the options, finally settling on a nearby Indian place, and loading up a few different plates. It's hard to tell how much of an appetite Jaime's going to have, but the excess will keep, and better to get more than less. It's a quiet few minutes as she goes through — in good circumstances, she'd make verbal confirmations as she'd go, but Ruka has the bad habit of simply deciding when things are a little more serious. (Well, Jaime could always pull the phone away from her if he hates it, so it's not like she's totally inconsiderate. It's fine.) ]

Yeah, we'll figure it out later, I'm sure. [ She'll make something up, if she has to, it's fine. In the meantime, though, she nudges the phone back his way. ] That work?

Mhm.

[ There's something even cozier about her scrolling through he options while he holds it, a quiet, casual connection like they belong here together - slot here together like that's what they were always meant to do. That's something he always relishes, the romantic that he is, but there's something more impactful about it at times like this one. They could be torn apart at any minute. Any second. He knows this. There's no narrative this place follows, no grand story that prevents it from happening. But in moments like this... it feels a little like that anyway. It's okay, isn't it? To feel that way for just a couple of minutes? He doesn't have to be bitterly realistic all the time, surely. You can't live in the present always looking towards a distant, terrifying future. Sometimes, you just have to ground yourself. ]

That looks good. Thanks. [ He taps the order button, more than happy to have someone making the decisions for him. He pushes his forehead against the side of her neck for a second, comfortable. ]

Wanna go sit on the couch for a while?

[ He's really shaken up by this.

It's the kind of thing that, Ruka thinks, other people might not get. The ones who've only been here a short time, or have gone only through losses, the regular grievings. After all — having someone you love come back into your life should be a straight-forward, happy occasion. But it isn't so simple as that.

She can feel it, in the warmth of his arm pressed against her ribs, in the weight of his chest and the drum of his heart pressed against her back, the way he swells and collapses for steady breath. This kind of gratitude, this quiet cherishing of nothing extraordinary — it's the kind of thing someone might expect after a loss, or in the recovering stages of grief.

But this is what many of them don't understand: that's what this is. Reuniting with someone you've lost for so long, seeing again the face of someone you love, who is the same as you remember, who remembers you, who still cares for you, there is a strange, nameless sister of grief that comes in tow. It resurrects the pain of the loss from that time, in a way, and it reminds of all the hurt and the grieving that followed; it doesn't quite make the pain seem pointless, or stupid, or overdramatic, but it casts those old feelings in a different light. Do you remember how broken up you were? Do you remember your regrets? Do you remember the promises you made, the things you swore to do, to say? Will you do right, this time? It brings regret for the time they were gone, for the things that they missed — grief for the life lived in their absence.

It's a feeling Ruka is well familiar with, now. She wonders a little, as she scrubs her free hand through his unruly mess of hair, how well-acquainted he is with this; she wonders if he remembers anything she tried to tell him, back when the loss was fresh.

Probably not, but maybe it doesn't matter. They weren't the same people they are now. ]

Alright, [ a murmur of response, fingers coiling around locks of hair, and then combing once more loose. ] Think you'll be able to get up again, when it gets here? Or are you just gonna fall asleep, and make me do it?

[ Even the teasing is more gentle than usual. ]

[ The thing is, is that Jaime's not entirely sure what it is that he's feeling. He knows it's not bad. He doesn't think it's bad, anyway. It's just another version of what he's felt for some time now, as people keep on rolling back into his life, only to fade away once more, jubilance mixed with trepidation. It's a good thing that's happened to him. He's just tired. That's all. ]

I'm only gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that, [ Jaime mumbles into her neck, closing his eyes against her. He's always been a tactile sort, but that goes both ways; there's little more soothing in the small hours of the morning than having her beside him, idly playing with his hair. He doesn't even care if it musses it up. His hair's always a mess anyway. His voice, breathy and tired though it is, is warm, a little teasing, admissions of vulnerability coming easy when it's with her.

They can't stay like this forever, tempting though it may be, so he links his fingers with hers and tugs her over to the couch where he collapses with all the ease of someone who's been flopping down on this couch with all his weight for many years. ]

...I'm okay, really, [ he says, giving her a little squeeze. ] I'm just tired.

[ Crying always makes him tired. One of the drawbacks of being such a crybaby, huh? ]

[ His rumbling complaint isn't much of a deterrent, but it takes effort not to try squirming out of his grip when it tickles so much to feel the words as heat against her neck. (It also takes effort not to sink further into the embrace, because — well, this isn't the time or the place for that kind of thing! No matter how tempting it is! Or how cute he's being!)

And so Ruka lets him drag her into the living room, and waits for him to finish his exuberant collapse before she sits down after, a much more controlled descent to the stretch of cushion he hasn't commandeered. She doesn't quite lean back into the couch — she has a much harder time relaxing into furniture than most — but she anchors her presence by stealing one of his hands, folding it between her palms. ]

Alright. But if you're not-okay later, that's alright, too. I'll be here.

[ Promises, promises. They both know there's no promise that can't be broken, but intention matters, too. And, who knows? There's always the trend of people drifting away in chains; maybe it's true in reverse, too, and these constant little assurances help keep them anchored to this world. It can't be true all the time, but it's a nice thought.

Her thumb runs over the line of his wrist. ]

You'll have to forgive me, though. I don't think your friend has the best impression of me.

Okay. But - I think I will be. Like I said, it's a good thing, right?

[ Once Ruka finds herself settled on the couch - she always waits for him, probably because she doesn't feel like getting bounced around by the mini-earthquake from someone who really doesn't weigh all that much in the first place - he slumps amicably towards her, shoulders bumping as she folds his hand in hers. ]

...what do you mean he doesn't have a good impression of you? I didn't even know you guys had a chance to talk.

[ Right? Well, maybe not, but maybe so. For Jaime, who doesn't run into the same cyclical destructive thoughts that Ruka does, it really might settle as quietly as this. Just because weeds like that grow in her heart is no reason for her to plant those seeds in his.

She leans against his shoulder, settling in. ]

He was on the Network, asking about you. Among other things. I answered the other things first.

[ Meaning: went through a good portion of a conversation before confirming that Jaime was still around, and, of course, snarked when he complained about it. Usual Ruka Behaviors. ]

He was asking about me?

[ Of course he was. Jaime's pleased that he did, but it makes sense, doesn't it? He and Jaime had been close. And now that the others have been ported out, Jaime may be the only person not from his world that Yusuke still knows. That's an uncomfortable thought, though not an unfamiliar one; he's known plenty who've been in the same boat, his girlfriend included. ]

Why'd you avoid telling him for a while? Did you know who he was, or...?

You keep pictures.

[ Not always out, not always in sight, but Jaime is a hoarder of sentiment. Unlike Ruka, who tries to bury her pains and her losses in dark places where no one can trespass, Jaime almost keeps vigils for it. Mementos on a desk; paintings in the hallway; photographs tucked into frames, into books, onto the bare spaces of the walls.

Her thumb runs along the back of his for idle comfort, wondering how to explain it. ]

I suppose... I wanted a closer look, at the kind of person he was, first. Make sure the face he wore actually belonged to him.

[ Jaime peers at her, curious. That's never something that occurs to him. But he's less suspicious by nature - has had fewer bad things happen to him too - and he's got the boon of Khaji, who would be able to tell him immediately whether or not his DNA was the same. ]

Yeah? You thought he was, like... a shapeshifter, or something? Or could be?

[ It's not an outlandish suspicion. Not with the lives that they lead. ]

Could be. Pretend to be your friend. Pretend to remember you. Sometimes it's because they don't want to hurt you. Sometimes it's because they do.

[ One of her shoulders shrugs a little, but she doesn't make any motion to moving away from where they are. ]

It happens.

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