[ true to his word, charles does take the long way. mirror travel is quick, but he's not entirely sure if it works the exact same here, and with the assorted collection of beverages he's managed to gather in the past hour — well, would be a right shame if those didn't make it through, right?
so it's a little over an hour after their little talk over the tablets that charles makes it to his door and, to his credit, actually knocks.
and then, because he's Just Like That, he phases his head in through the door and calls out, ] Would come in like this, except I need you to open the door for your drinks.
[After his cool and exciting tour of public parks, Junpei heads back to the inn to look at the projector he's borrowed from the event center - so that he, uh, will know how to use it properly when movie night comes, and not embarrass himself profoundly while trying to set up off-brand Titanic.
This mostly consists of looking at all the ports and buttons on it and occasionally saying "how many plugs does this even have" out loud to himself, which is what he's doing when there's a knock—and then a head at his door. Credit him this: he doesn't jump out of his skin, but only because he told Charles an hour and it's been an hour-ish by now.]
Wait, how much are you carrying out there? [That doesn't seem relevant to coming through the door, but he can't help but picture the rest of him outside with a bunch of beers and his head stuck in a door... pfff.
But okay, he's getting up to open the door. Hey.]
I'm going to open it. Do you want to pull your head out first, or...?
Um, [ says charles, which is a promising start, almost equally promising as the somewhat bashful expression that appears on his face right then, ] Might have got a tad carried away?
[ read: he definitely got like five different types of beer and then some canned cocktails for good measure, because crystal was telling him about them and apparently they're pretty aces. he wouldn't know, but he figures he can trust her on that.
also, his answer is to, in fact, pull his head back out and then say, as the door opens, ] Yeah, partially phasing through stuff's actually pretty uncomfortable. You could've opened the door through me, but, rather not.
[ with that cheerful opening (which he does say with a bright grin entirely at odds with the content of the words), charles steps in and deposits his bag full of drinks at junpei's feet, mostly so he has a hand free to reach out and squeeze his shoulder. ] Hey. Good to see you. [ the "in person" goes unsaid but is heavily implied, considering they did see each other just an hour ago over video. ]
You look good in that, [ is absolutely not what charles means to say, and yet apparently those are the words that his vocal cords decide to form as him and junpei are making their way around the obon festival. but, well, it's not his fault if he can't help but sneak glances at junpei, for once out of his usual all-black somewhat-grunge ensemble and in a yukata that, despite its whimsical fish pattern, suits his complexion rather nicely.
in order to, you know, make sure that's taken as the completely objective observation that it is, he glances around them at the other festival-goers and the way many are dressed similarly, in colourful garments, and tilts his head in consideration. ]
Should I have changed, too? I wasn't sure if it was, you know, appropriate. [ it's not a celebration from his culture, right? so then would wearing clothes from that culture be, like, weird? he's pretty sure crystal told him the word for it, but he can't remember. maybe he should be wearing a sherwani instead? ]
[It's been years since Junpei has even owned a yukata, let alone dressed up and gone to a festival. He probably wouldn't have if Charles wasn't going with him, maybe just wandered through in his crummy shirt and jeans, gotten food and left, but— well, here he is. Part of him is still hung up on the deluge of shitty things happening - the distance of a few weeks doesn't make it easier to swallow - so at first he's not very into the whole... festival aspect. Blah blah, people celebrate to feel better, blah blah—
Whatever!!
It's fine; it doesn't take much wandering around for him to mostly put those thoughts on the backburner again, a credit to both good free food and, as always, Charles. He scoffs at the compliment, because of course he does.]
Sure, thanks. You could've gotten changed if you wanted. [does he kind of want to see Charles in many different outfits, maybe-] Do you want to? We can go back.
[Just to like, browse patterns for inspiration, because ghost. Still.]
this fucking callout im so. dont look at me ever again
[ hey, he means it, silly! as if to emphasise his point, something he'd not have done if not for junpei's quick dismissal, he actually turns and looks at him, from head to toes, before smiling at him a tad pointedly, like saying see, you really do look good.
anyway — ]
Maybe? I could change into a sherwani, but I guess it's not for this festival, specifically. [ a bit sheepishly, he scratches the back of his neck. ] Don't wanna be a bother, though. We should probably just keep going.
[ read: yes, he does want to go back, but also feels like doubling back is going to inconvenience junpei and thus won't do it. ]
[Hello Junpei. How is your day? I hope it's a good one because it is about to just get better. No matter where he is, be it outside or indoors, he'll feel a sudden bump against the back of his legs. Why! It's no one but Whitey the Albino boar! And it looks like he has a letter for you:]
Greetings Junpei of The Chosen.
It has come to my attention that my manner of communicating has confused my fellow Chosen of Aldrip. There has been several voices pointing out that my way of writing and addressing another is "too long", or "too formal." I have merely followed the art of writing letters that was taught to me by my teachers, who were picked personally by my parents, the previous noble Duke of York and his wife by grace, lady Cecily. For us it has been important to follow a certain structure and method while contacting one another by a letter to show the respect and reflect the status of the receiver.
However, it seems to me this is no longer the case and people have crafted a new way of writing and communicating. I could not help but remember our prior conversation about literacy. I was hoping that perhaps you, as the man of wisdom and knowledge, could perhaps aid me as I navigate through this foreign writing style called texting. If you would, I'd be in your gratitude and seek to repay the favor as you see fit.
[Junpei's first response to getting bumped into by a literal boar is to yelp and nearly trip over himself. Whoa!! He's almost ready to bolt before he sees the letter, which he... takes...??
It's already a weird enough time. Why not. And oh, he knows who this letter is from even before he reads it, only Richard sends letters. Honestly Junpei is half-expecting some kind of screed about how he's illiterate and he needs to write letters to improve himself, or something.
The reality is somehow even more bizarre. He reads the letter and then looks at Whitey, like, uh-]
Are you supposed to take something back? Hold on.
[He's got a pen in his pocket somewhere, so let him flip Richard's letter over to write his response on the back:]
Sure thing Just pick a time & place
Junpei
[Ha... He holds the letter out to Whitey... here you go, bud........]
[It's ok. Whitey is unfortunately kind of used to people having such reactions to him. But he figures it could be worse. At least Junpei isn't trying to chase him or turn him into pork-chops. Once he has been released from his letter Whitey begins to sniff the ground with his snout, poking around the pavement and looking a little frustrated that there are no hidden treats there. Truly, cities suck.
When Junpei is finished with his reply Whitey turns his head to look up to him with his brown lil' eyes. Huffing he takes a few steps forward to brush himself against Junpei's legs. C'mon, dude. At least pet him!]
[ ketsora. when the assignment finally comes in, coupled with the grouping, charles is just glad the waiting is over — but then, as he talks to his group, gets details of the place... well. it's a good thing he got his magic cricket bat back.
it takes him maybe twenty minutes to pack his bag, most of the time going to wrapping a mirror very, very carefully and stuffing it in the backpack; then, with the handle of his cricket bat sticking out of the bag, he hops into the mirror in his apartment and promptly emerges from the mirror in junpei's house, calling out, ]
Hey, [ and it should maybe be strange, the way this has become normal, him simply stepping out of the mirror without even so much as texting in advance — in many ways, coming here feels more like coming home than his own place does, though charles actively avoids thinking of that more than absolutely necessary. gab is all too happy to provide a distraction from his thoughts, though, running up to him, and charles drops into a squat to scratch him behind his ears, laughing. ]
Yeah, I know, I missed you, [ he says with a soft smile, and as he lifts his eyes from the dog to where footsteps have alerted him to junpei walking closer, too, he tries very hard to pretend he's not saying the words to the both of them.
(he's been gone, what, half a day? doesn't matter, that.)
then, straightening up, ] You told me to stop by before I go. So... [ he shrugs, as if to say, well, here i am. ]
[There's a part of Junpei that selfishly hopes the orders will never come in; that Charles will come over not to say goodbye, but to tell him how strange it is but they decided not to go, or that he should stay here, or any other reason—but that's selfish. That's a daydream he allows himself to indulge in while he sluggishly, half-heartedly makes himself lunch, the bleakest sandwich anyone has ever made. No one has ever stared at a loaf of bread and yearned as hard as Junpei Tenmyouji does while hoping against hope that everything miraculously resolves itself in record time.
Of course it doesn't; of course it won't. He hears Gab trot out from his favorite spot under the coffee table a split second before he hears Charles' voice, because the dog seems to have a sixth sense for when the mirror is about to turn into a passageway, somehow.
He stands there for an extra couple seconds and gives this rye bread a tragic kind of look, just to center himself. Just a few seconds, then his feet carry him over to Charles before he can quite remember to control his expression. Hang on, he's fine—]
Hey. Uh...
[He's- he's still holding a piece of bread, which he hastily stoops down to give Gab, like he planned it that way. It's suddenly very awkward in a way it never is when Charles is around, but that's his own fault. He sighs and crosses his arms, then uncrosses them immediately after. Okay.
Okay.]
I, uh, I was trying to think of something better than "be careful" to say, but...
[He shrugs; he stared at bread for ten straight minutes instead, actually, but Charles doesn't need to know that. Junpei looks at him for another beat before sidestepping around Gab to go straight in for a hug, a touch rougher than he means to. Hey.]
[ as he lifts his eyes from gab to junpei, it is just in time to catch that expression on his face before he tries his best to wipe it away; but it's enough for charles to drop his smile, for his own expression to turn into something more concerned. and with the halting words that fill the space between them, well, it's — not strange, not exactly, but he is unused to this kind of distance, like the words that are spoken are simply there in place of something else.
and so when junpei crosses the physical distance separating them, charles wraps him in his arms and holds him like that alone could make whatever lingering awkwardness there is disappear. ]
Course I will, [ he says softly, and maybe he means it more in the way of not being outright reckless, but he will promise this, he'll promise anything if it makes junpei sound less like he's fraying along the edges.
and yeah, maybe he meant to come here and leave almost immediately... but there's no way in hell he's leaving like this. he's not in a hurry; he can catch up with the others easily enough. and now that he's here, it's all too easy to remember that he doesn't actually want to leave at all — what he wants is to stay right here, with junpei and gab, preferably forever.
slowly, he pulls back; his arms never move completely away, though, instead his hands slide up from where they are holding onto junpei, up his back and then onto his arms, staying there. ]
You'll be okay, [ and the sentence starts as a reassurance but ends as a question, like all he really cares about is that he'll be okay, here, and like it's only just now occurring to him that being safe might not equal okay. and he almost, almost says i'll be fine, don't worry, but that'd be assuming that junpei's level of okay-ness depends on him in any way and that's — well, that's a bit egotistical. ]
[Has Junpei even left his house in those twenty minutes--
Yes he has, but maybe only five minutes ago, so he texts back that he'll be there soon. It's Soon Enough, and here he is: kinda short, cute if you're Charles, wearing his black Hanes 6-pack V-neck. As described.
(it's fine to wait. it gives him time to catch up with the staff, engage in small talk here and there, and order a beer. two being his limit, this encounter won't clash with the need to go home for dinner, it seems.
he also doesn't know what junpei looks like aside from the description given, but this might as well be it. manjiro is tiny, wearing a tanktop with a jacket draped over his shoulders along a pair of baggy pants, his black hair (though there is a slight display of strawberry blond roots) cut at his cheekbones.)
[ it is eight in the morning, and the moon is high up in the sky, the only light in what seems to be perpetual darkness. none of the lights inside the house turn on; neither do their tablets. it all reeks of aldrip fuckery, and after some choice words on both parts, after making sure gab is fed (and junpei, too, for that matter, because they may need to go investigate but charles will make damn sure junpei's eaten at least something before they head out), well — it's not like they can check the network for any announcements about this, is it?
no, heading out to see what the hell is going on is the only choice left for them. charles grabs his bag, his cricket bat stuffed inside, and takes junpei's hand — a few months ago he'd have said it's to make sure they're not separated. now, it's just because he can, and because he wants to... and to make sure they're not separated, yes, alright, maybe there's some truth to that, too.
the streets near the house are quiet; there are no lights in any of the nearby buildings, either. the closer they get to the center of the city, the more there are sounds — some far off, a skittering noise that makes charles freeze for a moment, some heavy footsteps that lead away from them. none of them sound very reassuring. ]
I don't like this, [ charles says and squeezes junpei's hand, his eyes scanning their surroundings, constantly alert. he doesn't know why, but he feels like they're being watched — like there is something in the darkness around them, something distinctly unfriendly. ]
[It's been maybe an hour since Junpei looked out the window half-asleep and asked why the moon is fucked up. He wonders still now why the moon is fucked up, what could possibly be wrong with this city now— but at least he has a hasty breakfast in him to wake him up, now.
It's kind of like a horrible reverse callback to the last time they held hands and wandered around to investigate the state of the city; Junpei has no confessions to make this time, and the giant, (again) fucked up moon in the sky watching them is far more oppressive than the weird attitude of the locals the time before.
He's looking around, wondering where everyone is, trying to ignore the unsettling sounds that seem to be following them.]
I don't know, [he says, and he means it; is it safer at home? Not that the lights being on would be safer if weird things are still out making creepy noises, but...] Eventually, yeah, Gab's home.
[It hasn't occurred to him yet that they won't be staying home, so this is about half of a bit; Gab is asleep in the dark under his coffee table, as always. Will Junpei have to put him in a backpack, too? Time will tell.]
some time this week, junpei will find a CUTELY WRAPPED BOX (idk, robots wearing santa hats) delivered to his doorstep ... along with a card written in surprisingly neat cursive.]
Dear Junpei, I am so thankful that you are part of my life and that we get to spend this holiday season together. I hope your Yuletide is as happy as the happiness you bring me! :-) -Vash
[ it is while junpei is out (perhaps he's got the most unfair work shift of all, perhaps he's out walking gab, perhaps on an errand, whatever the reason; perhaps charles even sent him out to get something he claimed to have forgotten to buy for their dinner later) that he sets everything up: gets the cake he's made earlier and stored in the fridge of the apartment he's pretty much given to root and shaw, sets up some candles and christmas decorations.
and then he sends junpei a picture of it all, with, ]
this look right?
[ and yeah, maybe he could have saved it for a surprise when he's home, but... he'd rather make the corrections now. or, on the off chance junpei hates the whole tradition, he can still fix this while he's out. ]
[Of course Junpei has the worst shift of all; opening shift at a sandwich shop on Christmas sounds, for all intents and purposes, like intentional torture. But to Junpei it's just a day; Aldrip doesn't seem to... entirely understand any version of what the holiday is supposed to be, by his estimation, and as long as he doesn't get harassed by any frogs or whatever, it's just another weekday at work.
He's on his way home when Charles' message comes through, and his first thought is to wonder whose birthday it is this time. But then the rest of the display actually sinks in, and the type of cake, and somehow this didn't occur to him at all because they were just pretending it was May, like, two months ago? And yet here's Charles, sending him pictures of a Christmas cake in their very own kitchen. He needs a moment; he honest to god has to go sit on a park bench and stare into the nearest pile of shoveled snow and calm down, which is stupid, because it's just cake, but here he is.
Okay. He's feeling fine. And some other emotions. Okay.]
yeah, straight out of a magazine. where'd you get the hot tips?
[Because even if it weren't Julytember by Junpei's estimate, obviously he's not going around dropping hints about Christmas cakes...]
[It's early in the 25th morning. Most people are still sleeping and the sun is only about to send its first rays to break the darkness of the night sky. But then there is a sudden knock on a door. Huh?! Who could it be! Whenever [insert name] gets to the door, be it immediately or hours late they will find a christmas wreath with white roses placed on their doorstep. There might even be snowy (or wet!) small hoof marks leading away from the present. Hm. I wonder, who indeed did deliver this?
On the wreath there is a letter that reads:]
To dearest Junpei,
I hope this letter finds you well. I want to thank you for helping me all these months to get settled in this world and learn my way around with those who come from different culture than me. There will be a feast held at the Inn’s tavern for the next 12 days and I welcome you to enjoy it for free. There will be warm food, treats, games and homemade mead and wine at your disposal.
Merry Christmas.
Signed, Richard Plantagenet, The Duke of Gloucester
[ooc: There will be no ic mingle log for the feast. But feel free to either handwave or thread it out!]
don't look now but it's. me back here with more threads, time to have a very bad new years,
[ sorting through items is, perhaps weirdly enough, what charles finds — not soothing, exactly, but an activity both mindless enough that he can do it whenever, and also enough to hold his attention to give him something to focus on when there's really nothing else to do.
and that leaves him here, rearranging the records and other small knick-knacks they've (well, he, let's be honest here, there's only one out of them with a tendency to save the weirdest things just in case) gathered over the months while junpei... well. he's been quieter, the closer they've come to new year, and charles hasn't addressed that fact yet — he'd let him be quiet around his death anniversary, right, so he's returning the favour here, as much as he's glancing at him every now and then with a worried little frown.
still; he's opening a drawer he doesn't actually remember ever opening before, and there's — a watch? of sorts? puzzled, he picks it up, and turns to ask, ]
[It's stupid, Junpei thinks, that he should be thinking about the time of year at all. How many times now have he and Charles thrown out the actual date in this world and pretended it was some other time of year, like, twice? In maybe six months? That should be enough for the actual calendar to not matter, if only so that Junpei gets another six months before he has to think about New Year's Eve even a little.
Too bad, he supposes. They had a Christmas date - which was fantastic, don't get him wrong - and so there's really no pretending it's still July or whatever, when the end of the year is actually quickly approaching.
So he's been quieter, sure. He knows Charles is fretting silently over it, but all he can really bring himself to do is sit around and pretend to read magazines, while Charles goes back and forth around the house. It's without even thinking that he glances up from the same page he's been looking at for ten minutes and sees what Charles has found, and,]
Uh, yeah. I didn't tell you about the bracelet...? [He can't honestly remember, the same way he can't seem to remember other little anecdotes he's told Charles, and maybe that's a trauma response he should think more about, but—] Wait, give me that.
[A little more urgent, as he gets up to come over with his hand held out. The bracelet is a chunky, blocky thing, and while its watch face doesn't light up anymore, that's not really his concern. Needles aren't made of iron or whatever, right, but still, he very much doesn't want Charles to be holding that thing. It was the only thing in that drawer for a reason.]
[ quite honestly, they could have very well stayed home — valentine's is about staying together, of course, and they don't really need a whole party or any of its activities to enjoy each other's company... but getting out of the house is a good thing, and well, might as well check out what the city's done, right?
only, it's — a little, uh. underwhelming seems to be the word for it; but they're together, so really, what else matters? who cares if the catering is bad, or if the activities seem to be random games and a speed dating thing that's not really relevant to them! eventually, after piling some snacks on a plate for junpei, they end up around the table where the decorations must have been made, only, there's still papers and glitter and scissors and other things for arts and crafts there. and charles, ever up for literally anything, grabs a few silk papers and rolls them into the approximation of a flower. ]
There, [ he says, grinning, as he offers it to junpei. ] Flowers are traditional, yeah? Only, this won't wilt. [ it's also very much paper and barely looks like a flower, but shh! ]
[Honestly, it's probably the shittiness of this party that prompts Junpei to stay. If it were some big ordeal with actual effort and fanciness it wouldn't be funny, and that's the most important thing— plus, there's free food, even if it's mostly dollar store cookies and punch.
So he's having an ironically fun time at the pathetic V-Day party, which means it's great. The table with the craft supplies on it definitely isn't meant for them to sit and make more, but again: what else are they going to do here? Junpei eats a cheap cookie with one hand and sifts through scraps of pink-red-white paper with the other, to find some actually viable pieces.
But oh, what's this, it's Charles being cute,] You're gonna make me swoon.
[He quits shuffling scraps to take the... flower... but he's in for the bit, holding it up as if to take a sniff of its delightful floral scent. It looks like a flower only if he squints. He's keeping it.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
🍻
so it's a little over an hour after their little talk over the tablets that charles makes it to his door and, to his credit, actually knocks.
and then, because he's Just Like That, he phases his head in through the door and calls out, ] Would come in like this, except I need you to open the door for your drinks.
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This mostly consists of looking at all the ports and buttons on it and occasionally saying "how many plugs does this even have" out loud to himself, which is what he's doing when there's a knock—and then a head at his door. Credit him this: he doesn't jump out of his skin, but only because he told Charles an hour and it's been an hour-ish by now.]
Wait, how much are you carrying out there? [That doesn't seem relevant to coming through the door, but he can't help but picture the rest of him outside with a bunch of beers and his head stuck in a door... pfff.
But okay, he's getting up to open the door. Hey.]
I'm going to open it. Do you want to pull your head out first, or...?
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[ read: he definitely got like five different types of beer and then some canned cocktails for good measure, because crystal was telling him about them and apparently they're pretty aces. he wouldn't know, but he figures he can trust her on that.
also, his answer is to, in fact, pull his head back out and then say, as the door opens, ] Yeah, partially phasing through stuff's actually pretty uncomfortable. You could've opened the door through me, but, rather not.
[ with that cheerful opening (which he does say with a bright grin entirely at odds with the content of the words), charles steps in and deposits his bag full of drinks at junpei's feet, mostly so he has a hand free to reach out and squeeze his shoulder. ] Hey. Good to see you. [ the "in person" goes unsaid but is heavily implied, considering they did see each other just an hour ago over video. ]
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are you sick of me yet
in order to, you know, make sure that's taken as the completely objective observation that it is, he glances around them at the other festival-goers and the way many are dressed similarly, in colourful garments, and tilts his head in consideration. ]
Should I have changed, too? I wasn't sure if it was, you know, appropriate. [ it's not a celebration from his culture, right? so then would wearing clothes from that culture be, like, weird? he's pretty sure crystal told him the word for it, but he can't remember. maybe he should be wearing a sherwani instead? ]
never. 150 more tags coming up--
Whatever!!
It's fine; it doesn't take much wandering around for him to mostly put those thoughts on the backburner again, a credit to both good free food and, as always, Charles. He scoffs at the compliment, because of course he does.]
Sure, thanks. You could've gotten changed if you wanted. [does he kind of want to see Charles in many different outfits, maybe-] Do you want to? We can go back.
[Just to like, browse patterns for inspiration, because ghost. Still.]
this fucking callout im so. dont look at me ever again
anyway — ]
Maybe? I could change into a sherwani, but I guess it's not for this festival, specifically. [ a bit sheepishly, he scratches the back of his neck. ] Don't wanna be a bother, though. We should probably just keep going.
[ read: yes, he does want to go back, but also feels like doubling back is going to inconvenience junpei and thus won't do it. ]
i perceive us every time i open my inbox tbh
just don't open it then problem solved--
i'll be tagging with my eyes closed from now on
probably a good plan
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Greetings Junpei of The Chosen.
It has come to my attention that my manner of communicating has confused my fellow Chosen of Aldrip. There has been several voices pointing out that my way of writing and addressing another is "too long", or "too formal." I have merely followed the art of writing letters that was taught to me by my teachers, who were picked personally by my parents, the previous noble Duke of York and his wife by grace, lady Cecily. For us it has been important to follow a certain structure and method while contacting one another by a letter to show the respect and reflect the status of the receiver.
However, it seems to me this is no longer the case and people have crafted a new way of writing and communicating. I could not help but remember our prior conversation about literacy. I was hoping that perhaps you, as the man of wisdom and knowledge, could perhaps aid me as I navigate through this foreign writing style called texting. If you would, I'd be in your gratitude and seek to repay the favor as you see fit.
Signed,
Richard Plantagenet, Duke of Gloucester.
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It's already a weird enough time. Why not. And oh, he knows who this letter is from even before he reads it, only Richard sends letters. Honestly Junpei is half-expecting some kind of screed about how he's illiterate and he needs to write letters to improve himself, or something.
The reality is somehow even more bizarre. He reads the letter and then looks at Whitey, like, uh-]
Are you supposed to take something back? Hold on.
[He's got a pen in his pocket somewhere, so let him flip Richard's letter over to write his response on the back:]
Sure thing
Just pick a time & place
Junpei
[Ha... He holds the letter out to Whitey... here you go, bud........]
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When Junpei is finished with his reply Whitey turns his head to look up to him with his brown lil' eyes. Huffing he takes a few steps forward to brush himself against Junpei's legs. C'mon, dude. At least pet him!]
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time for some very gay goodbyes 💖
it takes him maybe twenty minutes to pack his bag, most of the time going to wrapping a mirror very, very carefully and stuffing it in the backpack; then, with the handle of his cricket bat sticking out of the bag, he hops into the mirror in his apartment and promptly emerges from the mirror in junpei's house, calling out, ]
Hey, [ and it should maybe be strange, the way this has become normal, him simply stepping out of the mirror without even so much as texting in advance — in many ways, coming here feels more like coming home than his own place does, though charles actively avoids thinking of that more than absolutely necessary. gab is all too happy to provide a distraction from his thoughts, though, running up to him, and charles drops into a squat to scratch him behind his ears, laughing. ]
Yeah, I know, I missed you, [ he says with a soft smile, and as he lifts his eyes from the dog to where footsteps have alerted him to junpei walking closer, too, he tries very hard to pretend he's not saying the words to the both of them.
(he's been gone, what, half a day? doesn't matter, that.)
then, straightening up, ] You told me to stop by before I go. So... [ he shrugs, as if to say, well, here i am. ]
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Of course it doesn't; of course it won't. He hears Gab trot out from his favorite spot under the coffee table a split second before he hears Charles' voice, because the dog seems to have a sixth sense for when the mirror is about to turn into a passageway, somehow.
He stands there for an extra couple seconds and gives this rye bread a tragic kind of look, just to center himself. Just a few seconds, then his feet carry him over to Charles before he can quite remember to control his expression. Hang on, he's fine—]
Hey. Uh...
[He's- he's still holding a piece of bread, which he hastily stoops down to give Gab, like he planned it that way. It's suddenly very awkward in a way it never is when Charles is around, but that's his own fault. He sighs and crosses his arms, then uncrosses them immediately after. Okay.
Okay.]
I, uh, I was trying to think of something better than "be careful" to say, but...
[He shrugs; he stared at bread for ten straight minutes instead, actually, but Charles doesn't need to know that. Junpei looks at him for another beat before sidestepping around Gab to go straight in for a hug, a touch rougher than he means to. Hey.]
So... be careful.
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and so when junpei crosses the physical distance separating them, charles wraps him in his arms and holds him like that alone could make whatever lingering awkwardness there is disappear. ]
Course I will, [ he says softly, and maybe he means it more in the way of not being outright reckless, but he will promise this, he'll promise anything if it makes junpei sound less like he's fraying along the edges.
and yeah, maybe he meant to come here and leave almost immediately... but there's no way in hell he's leaving like this. he's not in a hurry; he can catch up with the others easily enough. and now that he's here, it's all too easy to remember that he doesn't actually want to leave at all — what he wants is to stay right here, with junpei and gab, preferably forever.
slowly, he pulls back; his arms never move completely away, though, instead his hands slide up from where they are holding onto junpei, up his back and then onto his arms, staying there. ]
You'll be okay, [ and the sentence starts as a reassurance but ends as a question, like all he really cares about is that he'll be okay, here, and like it's only just now occurring to him that being safe might not equal okay. and he almost, almost says i'll be fine, don't worry, but that'd be assuming that junpei's level of okay-ness depends on him in any way and that's — well, that's a bit egotistical. ]
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what a coincidence, to be talking to both him and Charles at the same time, life is just full of surprises.)
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Yes he has, but maybe only five minutes ago, so he texts back that he'll be there soon. It's Soon Enough, and here he is: kinda short, cute if you're Charles, wearing his black Hanes 6-pack V-neck. As described.
He does not know what Mikey looks like. Uhhhhh.]
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he also doesn't know what junpei looks like aside from the description given, but this might as well be it. manjiro is tiny, wearing a tanktop with a jacket draped over his shoulders along a pair of baggy pants, his black hair (though there is a slight display of strawberry blond roots) cut at his cheekbones.)
Yo, you Junpei?
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it's been almost two months since i last started a thread here. unforgivable,
no, heading out to see what the hell is going on is the only choice left for them. charles grabs his bag, his cricket bat stuffed inside, and takes junpei's hand — a few months ago he'd have said it's to make sure they're not separated. now, it's just because he can, and because he wants to... and to make sure they're not separated, yes, alright, maybe there's some truth to that, too.
the streets near the house are quiet; there are no lights in any of the nearby buildings, either. the closer they get to the center of the city, the more there are sounds — some far off, a skittering noise that makes charles freeze for a moment, some heavy footsteps that lead away from them. none of them sound very reassuring. ]
I don't like this, [ charles says and squeezes junpei's hand, his eyes scanning their surroundings, constantly alert. he doesn't know why, but he feels like they're being watched — like there is something in the darkness around them, something distinctly unfriendly. ]
Should we just turn back?
welcome home
It's kind of like a horrible reverse callback to the last time they held hands and wandered around to investigate the state of the city; Junpei has no confessions to make this time, and the giant, (again) fucked up moon in the sky watching them is far more oppressive than the weird attitude of the locals the time before.
He's looking around, wondering where everyone is, trying to ignore the unsettling sounds that seem to be following them.]
I don't know, [he says, and he means it; is it safer at home? Not that the lights being on would be safer if weird things are still out making creepy noises, but...] Eventually, yeah, Gab's home.
[It hasn't occurred to him yet that they won't be staying home, so this is about half of a bit; Gab is asleep in the dark under his coffee table, as always. Will Junpei have to put him in a backpack, too? Time will tell.]
So, uh, what's that noise? The... slithering?
it's good to be back
i'm throwing confetti
no that's littering
in my own house??? nah
sooooo you mean instead it's (g)littering--
it's (g)iving
i'm (c)rying
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don't read this cringe
im reading it.
noooo how embarrassing
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HOLIDAY!!!!
some time this week, junpei will find a CUTELY WRAPPED BOX (idk, robots wearing santa hats) delivered to his doorstep ... along with a card written in surprisingly neat cursive.]
I am so thankful that you are part of my life and that we get to spend this holiday season together.
I hope your Yuletide is as happy as the happiness you bring me! :-)
-Vash
[ inside the box, he will find a snood (he thinks this is so cool), and a whole buncha candy!
enjoy!!!! ]
hi its me again, forward-dated to actual christmas,
and then he sends junpei a picture of it all, with, ]
this look right?
[ and yeah, maybe he could have saved it for a surprise when he's home, but... he'd rather make the corrections now. or, on the off chance junpei hates the whole tradition, he can still fix this while he's out. ]
cake jumpscare
He's on his way home when Charles' message comes through, and his first thought is to wonder whose birthday it is this time. But then the rest of the display actually sinks in, and the type of cake, and somehow this didn't occur to him at all because they were just pretending it was May, like, two months ago? And yet here's Charles, sending him pictures of a Christmas cake in their very own kitchen. He needs a moment; he honest to god has to go sit on a park bench and stare into the nearest pile of shoveled snow and calm down, which is stupid, because it's just cake, but here he is.
Okay. He's feeling fine. And some other emotions. Okay.]
yeah, straight out of a magazine. where'd you get the hot tips?
[Because even if it weren't Julytember by Junpei's estimate, obviously he's not going around dropping hints about Christmas cakes...]
this is such low-hanging fruit but don't you mean..... cake jumpyscare--
i close my eyes. i do not see it
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🎀 the shortest wrap in history, leaving them to be cute about cake,
IC delivery
On the wreath there is a letter that reads:]
To dearest Junpei,
I hope this letter finds you well. I want to thank you for helping me all these months to get settled in this world and learn my way around with those who come from different culture than me. There will be a feast held at the Inn’s tavern for the next 12 days and I welcome you to enjoy it for free. There will be warm food, treats, games and homemade mead and wine at your disposal.
Merry Christmas.
Signed,
Richard Plantagenet, The Duke of Gloucester
[ooc: There will be no ic mingle log for the feast. But feel free to either handwave or thread it out!]
don't look now but it's. me back here with more threads, time to have a very bad new years,
and that leaves him here, rearranging the records and other small knick-knacks they've (well, he, let's be honest here, there's only one out of them with a tendency to save the weirdest things just in case) gathered over the months while junpei... well. he's been quieter, the closer they've come to new year, and charles hasn't addressed that fact yet — he'd let him be quiet around his death anniversary, right, so he's returning the favour here, as much as he's glancing at him every now and then with a worried little frown.
still; he's opening a drawer he doesn't actually remember ever opening before, and there's — a watch? of sorts? puzzled, he picks it up, and turns to ask, ]
Junpei? This yours?
surely it won't be the worst ever, considering--
Too bad, he supposes. They had a Christmas date - which was fantastic, don't get him wrong - and so there's really no pretending it's still July or whatever, when the end of the year is actually quickly approaching.
So he's been quieter, sure. He knows Charles is fretting silently over it, but all he can really bring himself to do is sit around and pretend to read magazines, while Charles goes back and forth around the house. It's without even thinking that he glances up from the same page he's been looking at for ten minutes and sees what Charles has found, and,]
Uh, yeah. I didn't tell you about the bracelet...? [He can't honestly remember, the same way he can't seem to remember other little anecdotes he's told Charles, and maybe that's a trauma response he should think more about, but—] Wait, give me that.
[A little more urgent, as he gets up to come over with his hand held out. The bracelet is a chunky, blocky thing, and while its watch face doesn't light up anymore, that's not really his concern. Needles aren't made of iron or whatever, right, but still, he very much doesn't want Charles to be holding that thing. It was the only thing in that drawer for a reason.]
oh yeah the worst ever is a high bar to beat,
yeah just don't kill him and it'll be way better this time
lmf luckily that's definitely not on the list of things to do this new year
the sheer romance of not killing him--
looks at ztd, yeah, that's the romance bar to beat really,
there are many bars and they are all in the ground
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vday's shenanigans ahoy
only, it's — a little, uh. underwhelming seems to be the word for it; but they're together, so really, what else matters? who cares if the catering is bad, or if the activities seem to be random games and a speed dating thing that's not really relevant to them! eventually, after piling some snacks on a plate for junpei, they end up around the table where the decorations must have been made, only, there's still papers and glitter and scissors and other things for arts and crafts there. and charles, ever up for literally anything, grabs a few silk papers and rolls them into the approximation of a flower. ]
There, [ he says, grinning, as he offers it to junpei. ] Flowers are traditional, yeah? Only, this won't wilt. [ it's also very much paper and barely looks like a flower, but shh! ]
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So he's having an ironically fun time at the pathetic V-Day party, which means it's great. The table with the craft supplies on it definitely isn't meant for them to sit and make more, but again: what else are they going to do here? Junpei eats a cheap cookie with one hand and sifts through scraps of pink-red-white paper with the other, to find some actually viable pieces.
But oh, what's this, it's Charles being cute,] You're gonna make me swoon.
[He quits shuffling scraps to take the... flower... but he's in for the bit, holding it up as if to take a sniff of its delightful floral scent. It looks like a flower only if he squints. He's keeping it.]
Romantic as hell.
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