coolerjunpei | expi inbox

[Junpei is ready to insist if he has to, because of course all those other things are true, fuck those guys and so on, but Junpei has faced enough uncomfortable what-ifs for a lifetime (possibly several) and he knows that sometimes the thing he most wants to hear is, yes, that was correct. Yes, you did something difficult, and it ended badly, but you were right to try.

He hopes saying it once and then demanding Charles preemptively shut up and get hugged is conveying it the way he wants, but well, he's already committed to this method.

It feels like it's working at least, the way Charles sinks into him instead of snapping at him or turning away. And it feels less strained, less sharp around the edges than back in that storage room when he'd been trying to outpace his own infected mind. Good— or at the very least, better. Junpei squeezes his arms around Charles and scoffs.]

Don't worry about it. I'm the one who asked.

[About the incident and for this hug, technically, so those are both covered. He'll stay here like this until Charles decides it's done.]

And, uh, thanks. For trusting me with it.

[ eventually, charles does decide that — well, that he's probably gone over the time limits of a socially acceptable hug by so many seconds it's better to count them in minutes, and he really should let go, no matter how comforting he finds their current position.

so he pulls back, brushing the side of his thumb discreetly against his eye before aiming a small smile at junpei. ] Nah, no need for thanks. I wanted you to know.

[ wouldn't have said it all otherwise, right? but that — well, that sort of reminds him of something else he probably should have said, way before this moment. ]

Right, so, since we're already talking about all this... I wanted to say sorry. You know, for leaving you.

[ he doesn't specify, because frankly, does he need to? he doesn't think so. instead, he just goes on, before junpei has a chance to misunderstand, ] I would've come back if I could've. Just — I'd have never abandoned you, yeah? Never. [ and he can't bear the thought of him believing that. ]

[Hey, if he's going to cry, there will be more hugs. Fair warning. Junpei sits back only when he sees a proper smile, however small.

And—] Oh, that's not...

[Not what he thought Charles was doing, when he finally never came back? At least not with the word "abandoned" anywhere in the equation, considering how many times he insisted spending time elsewhere was the better idea. Did he assume Charles made the executive - and again, better!! - decision to look out for himself? Well... yes.

But abandoning him? No, not really.]

Sure, yeah. I was pretty in my head by then, so...

[Well, never mind anything he might have thought. That said, that "if I could've" is doing a lot of heavy lifting, isn't it?]

Kind of getting the feeling something pretty bad happened, though?

Yeah, [ charles interjects, quick and pointed, ] You were, and I told you bloody well I didn't care about that.

[ he'd have stayed, right until the end, whatever that end might have been — and the only thing, the only thing he'd regretted was that he couldn't be there for him like he'd said he would.

"something pretty bad" is not an unreasonable assumption nor is it far off the mark, and yet charles' first reaction is a defensive, ] Oi, it wasn't his fault. He was... pretty in his head, too.

[ he sighs, then, running a hand through his hair, messing up the already messy curls even more. ] I... well, I didn't tell you the whole truth about ghosts, then. For obvious reasons. See, we can be hurt, by iron. It's... not pretty. Makes us tangible, too, corporeal in a way that other stuff can hit us proper. And a ghost can die if they feel enough pain, just — disintegrate, yeah?

[ somehow, he manages to say all this like he's imparting some general knowledge on ghosts, and yet the look he gives junpei then, a kind of quiet, wordless apology there in his eyes — it says it's more than general, it says sorry i didn't tell you, it says sorry for letting that happen and not coming back to you. ]

[Junpei makes a face immediately, frowning and with both eyebrows raised, as if to say, look, was anyone not in their heads in some way? He knows.

Still. It takes a staggering amount of understanding to not immediately want to be angry, again, and if he had a direction to point that anger in, all the better.

But, okay. Understanding. He'd told Bondrewd he didn't want to put anyone's name out there after what happened to him, so he will... give this mystery killer the same courtesy. He really doesn't like doing that, but fine. They're both doing the same thing, aren't they? Keeping at least one part secret for someone else's sake.

It's all he can do to just hang his head and sigh, instead.]

Jesus, okay. I'm putting "ghost armor but it's not iron" on the list of ghost stuff to figure out.

[And he'd like to know the important ghost facts beforehand, next time, please!! Assuming he isn't going slightly insane next time, too.]

So when I asked if you were okay, you were bullshitting me about this? Just keeping track...

[ there's a number of things he could say, there, but what comes out first is, ] You have a list?

[ and despite it all, despite this entire topic of conversation, talking about dying not once but twice, all within the span of not even quarter of an hour... still, charles feels a genuine smile settle on his face as he looks at junpei, his heart feeling very full all of a sudden. ]

Not really, [ he answers then with a half-shrug, ] I really think it was better me than him, yeah? I could've fought back. I can actually use a sword and all.

[ not a ghost fact, just a charles fact. one he also probably should have mentioned before, the whole thing with him being able to do backflips with a sword quite effortlessly. but he'd chosen not to. ] Just... didn't feel right.

[Junpei does vaguely recall talking about swords... He huffs out maybe half of a laugh, exasperated - and lord knows he'd be feeling some other host of much worse emotions if he'd been there and seen it, or if he wouldn't have done the exact same thing (minus the ability to use a sword, because, haha, no). That much surely shows on his face, a melancholy that it had to happen at all and a sad kind of empathy.]

Because he was in his head about it. I get it.

[A beat.]

Don't worry, I'm not going to get on your case about it or anything, because I, uh, also... y'know. [got mcmurdered.] Apparently the infection isn't too picky after a while about who it goes after.

[Another beat.]

And yeah, of course I have a list.

[ oh.

oh. well — ] Shit, [ he says, eloquently, because honestly, at this point, what else is there to say? it's — well, it'd probably be comical, if it wasn't so bloody depressing.

so instead of asking about it, he just mutters, ] C'mere, [ and then promptly shuffles closer so he can wrap his arm over junpei's shoulders and sort of lean against him. ]

Sorry, [ he says then, again, ] I should've been there. [ and then he adds, almost conversational, ] That's the only thing I regret, you know? I'm not — it's fine what happened, all of that, I'm just glad I didn't have to hurt someone I know. But, just... Told you I'd be there, and then I wasn't.

[ he'll get back to the list, eventually. maybe. once the part in his chest that's been doing weird little flips stops doing that when he thinks about the whole thing. ]

[They've talked about the specifics of enough deaths today, something something it's his birthday, Junpei isn't going to spout out more unless Charles really wants to know.

Instead he simply says,] Yeah.

[And he's fine, really, he's dealing with the end of that week by numbing himself to it, which will never come back to bite him in the ass at a later date. Nothing he's been through has done that yet! He thinks! So it will work now, too.

He leans into Charles' lean, thoughtfully quiet for a moment.]

You were there for, I don't know, eighty percent... That's still a B. [ahem that's stupid, okay,] ...Yeah, I get it.

[No platitudes, no "well actually it was kind of a dream kill so what could anyone have done," forget all of that; he gets it.]

Uh, well, I'm not getting on your case about that, either. Believe me, I would have by now if I was thinking about it.

[ he does consider asking — but then, it'd be him pushing, and he doesn't want to do that. he wouldn't mind knowing, no, but only if it's something junpei wants to tell him; that's the thing about trauma, innit? won't help if you're pushed to talk about it. you have to want to share it; that's the only way the wound's ever gonna start closing, even a bit. and so the best he can do is be here, just as he'd been there that week — a solid presence, so that if and when the day ever comes junpei does want to talk... well. he'll know he can.

he chuckles under his breath at being graded for his help, even as a joke — it's silly, yeah, but it's also pretty funny. and hey, b's not terrible.

his voice is soft when he says, ]

Yeah, well, you wouldn't have. You're too good for that.

[Oh, and that's not what Junpei is expecting to hear at all. He's thrown plenty of tantrums in his life, he has an uncomfortable amount of indignant anger with no outlet, so he means it when he says he'd have made it pretty clear already if he had a bone to pick with Charles. It would have followed a lot of sullen sulking and passive-aggressive mumbling, and he'd probably end up embarrassed, but oh, yeah. He's not unfamiliar with flipping out.

Then Charles has to go and say he's too good, and despite himself, a part of Junpei chafes against that. Surely he knows better by now when it comes to being the good, understanding, upstanding guy; surely that's just naïveté he can't stomach anymore, after everything. Too good? Actually?

...Well, either way. It's exhausting just thinking about getting indignant to prove a point, look at him, so tough and hardened to the world!!—he can't be bothered. He scoffs and reaches for the abandoned beer again.

Maybe this time it's fine to... enjoy the compliment? Or whatever this is, the easy comfort that comes from Charles just saying stuff like that, and not getting flustered about it, either. Jeez.]

If you say so. I'll try not to disappoint.

[ good, charles says, and doesn't mean someone who always does the right thing, doesn't mean someone who never snaps at others — because, really, it's not about that. crystal used to be mean and horrible and literally made a guy walk into traffic, and she's still sharp and her words cut like knives and yet she's still, fundamentally, one of the best people charles knows, caring and kind and wanting to do better, be better. and edwin — well, edwin's combative, sarcastic, jealous, cold and logical, and also the single kindest person in the entire world, the best person, selfless to the point of staying with a dying stranger, just to make sure he wouldn't pass on alone.

good, charles says, and means you'd never blame me for leaving you because you thought you deserved to be alone, then, means you were willing to self-isolate just to avoid hurting anyone, means you deny it and deflect it but you care about everyone so much it's easier not to face it.

instead of saying any of that out loud, though, what he says is something far simpler — easy, like he's speaking a fact, something written into stone. ]

You won't.

[ he considers, for a moment, moving his arm, but leaves it where it is, draped over junpei's shoulders. silence reigns, for a tick, until he says, with a hint of a smile in his tone, ] So... you have a list. What's on it?

[Well damn, now he has to try— no, no, it's good to hear. That's the kind of thing that gets him out of his head, so - even if he's not too sure about that! - he'll try. Whatever trying looks like; he hopes it involves sleeping on fewer storage room floors. He's had enough of that, and he's done plenty of disappointing things to meet some imaginary quota, so-]

Okay.

[Okay, he will try. And thanks. And ah, yes, the list, the really critically important thing. Junpei holds up fingers for each item:]

Beer's first, then spaghetti, then ghost armor. [The ones they've actually talked about, except that he was serious about trying to kill a plate of spaghetti or however it would need to be done. If time travel is real, why not the ghost of al dentes past?

And one more,] Then an mp3 player or something, unless you're about to pull one of those out of your magic pockets too.

[ so, here's the thing — he did understand that the word "list" involves several things and all, but somehow it didn't really sink in, not until junpei starts listing the stuff and charles thinks, oh. that's — the stuff they've talked about, before, sort of off-hand mentions, the drinking and the spaghetti, and is it weird that he feels touched that he remembers? that he cares enough to actually have committed them to memory?

he pushes that away, then, choosing to grin instead and quip back, ] Nope, don't got one. I wish I had magic pockets, honest.

[ every day, he misses his backpack... anyway. a pause, ] So an mp3 player, that's like a walkman, then?

[ sorry........ he could have kept with the times regarding technology, but. well, not much use for learning about computers and such when you're a ghost. ]

[Junpei tilts his head to give Charles a look, sideways, like excuse him? Those pockets produced a bottle opener and a notebook, like, twenty minutes ago? As someone who carries around maybe five bucks in a cheap wallet and nothing else, Junpei considers these pockets magic and endless. Maybe not literally.

But never mind that.]

Yeah, basically. But smaller, and you don't have to put anything into it—it's all digital. You can have all the Freddie you want.

Wait — seriously?

[ somehow, somehow, this is news to him. like, yeah, he knows that people have cellphones that have internet and games with better graphics than anything there was in the 80s, and he objectively knows there's something called spotify even though he's not a hundred percent on what it's spotting, but — ]

Mate, that's brills! [ he sounds way too enthused about this, eyes sparkling like a particularly excited puppy. ] Listening to music's my favourite thing to do at night, and that'd make it so much easier. And I've been so bored, here, there's only so many times you can walk around the entire city until it gets old.

[ #ghostlyfe ]

[New Charles lore: kept up with Now! compilations but not with iPods, alright. Junpei nods and holds his hands up to make an mp3-player-sized rectangle with his fingers - he does not put down the beer for this, so it's a rectangle only in theory, or else he'll spill.]

Yeah, like- this big? No CDs or anything. I used to have one that even picked up the radio.

[Perhaps he should put it higher on the list, for nighttime activity purposes... hmm.]

You really walked around the whole city already?

[ despite the demonstration remaining on entirely theoretical level, charles hums in understanding, privately a little glad that there's no judgment for his, you know, lack of technological know-how (unlike crystal who's ribbed them about their limited knowledge of the internet several times already, thanks for nothing crystal!).

then he just nods, like this is totally commonplace. ]

Well, yeah? I can't sleep, and since most people do, there's sort of limited options for what to do. Figured I'd get the lay of the land, see where everything is... it's not like my feet can hurt from too much walking, is it?

[ he makes a little half-shrug. ] 's a bit boring, too, on your own, but better than just staying in and doing nothing.

Now you're just making up tautologies. I mean, there's got to be more options than A. walk around bored and B. sit around bored.

[Charles did carry these drinks here, Junpei thinks, as he finally manages to finish off this beer - surely he could, uh, play solitaire? Solve some riddles? Maybe?

Something to workshop.]

Next time I'm up at 3am, I'll send you a word search or something.

Tautologies, [ he repeats, with one raised eyebrow and an amused current to his tone. you absolute nerd.

and then he just deflates a bit. ]

Thanks for the thought. Just — reading's never been my strong point, the letters just — [ he waves his hand as if to indicate scrambling ] — so normally back home I sneak into movies, or listen to music, or listen to Edwin read, or we play board games. When we're not working on a case, that is.

[ tilting his head back, he looks up and says, quiet, ] I... haven't really had to be on my own, you know, in the past three decades. So walking — it's getting out, yeah? Seeing places, and the few people who're around. It's not much, but at least...

[ he trails off, but it's pretty easy to hear the rest; at least then, he's not in an apartment, alone and losing his mind over it. ]

[Hey, first of all: ....shush. Junpei gives him a little nudge in the ribs, which might be cleverly disguised as getting himself another beer. This one, maybe, he won't just hold like a prop for a while.

But, ah, so word puzzles are out of the question. Junpei hums, half-distracted, already thinking of something else to send at 3am. Picture puzzles?? That's nearly just memes...

...can't rule it out yet. Anyway.]

Yeah... I mean, to be honest, I don't really get it. I've lived alone for a while, [maybe three years tops, which is a while in college, ahem,] and sometimes I do just stare at the wall for a few hours.

[And he's fine with that. But this isn't about his completely normal relationship with being on his own, so. Hmm.]

Embrace staring at the walls. —That's a joke. How about... art.

[ charles, of course, lets out an oof as if the nudge was something far more significant, grinning as he does so, before settling back to wait for junpei to get another drink — and then he just starts laughing at the part about the walls and the immediate deadpan of it being a joke.

once he focuses back on the topic, though, it's obvious that he's actually giving this whole thing some real thought, which — ] Hey, [ says charles, with his grin turning into something a touch softer, ] You don't have to solve my boredom issue for me, yeah? It's not your problem.

[ but then he pauses, and, with some hesitation, picks up the notebook again, flipping to some of the first pages. on them, there's some pencil doodles — a nearby park, some flowers, a portrait of this old lady who always gets coffee at 8:20 in the morning in the coffee shop right across from charles' flat.

they're quickly done, that much is obvious, but they're also — well, pretty damn good, even if charles would never describe them as such himself. ] I, uh, draw sometimes, [ he settles on saying. but every time he takes his pencil and prepares to draw there's a voice, rough and angry, at the back of his mind, yelling at him that art's something for girls, that the only really proper hobby is sports so he ought to focus on that, and —

yeah. well. he just doesn't pick up the pen a lot. ]

[One fumble with the bottle opener later,] That's not why.

[Because the reason is as simple as he cares about Charles, and his relationships are all so goddamn weird at this point that he has no frame of reference for how normal people show that they care, and so—the 3am word search tier of ideas.

But then there's art, and instead of continuing that first thought, Junpei says,] Oh shit, you're really good. And you let me draw that tube telescope in there, man...

[Ha. He resists the sudden and powerful urge to ask Can You Draw Me? and instead opts for,]

You have more in there?

[ well, it's a good thing charles isn't exactly the paragon of normality when it comes to relationships or showing care, then, either.

the mention of the telescope makes him chuckle and say, ] Oi, I liked the telescope!

[ but then he, well, he'd scratch his cheek in embarrassment if he had a hand free, but his arm hasn't moved from its place and his other hand is holding the notebook, so he settles for glancing to the side and biting his lip.

eventually he just hands junpei the notebook to flip through, with a sigh and a sheepish, almost cautious, ] Here. But, um, don't be mad, yeah?

[ his eyes are very large and pleading. the why isn't immediately obvious — there's more buildings around aldrip, a few sketches of streets or a cool sign over a shop; then there's a few of the same place, seeming to be an office, drawn from memory; and then there's people. a white-haired, japanese girl laughing, bathed in blue light (the only colour found in any of the drawings). then a few pages torn off, and then more people, a few junpei might recognise: scott, arms crossed and looking somewhat righteously angry; richard, sitting down and staring at a croissant like it might jump up and bite him.

and then, well, once he turns the page, he'll see — there's none of the surroundings drawn, there, very clearly on purpose; instead, it's just a sketch of junpei himself, crouched down, head tilted to the side, looking at what one might call the camera if this was a photograph, looking a bit tired but with a small, genuine smile. ]

It was barely a telescope.

[But okay, okay, sure. Junpei doesn't need to argue that he sucks at telescope drawings, not when there are more actually quality drawings to look at. He raises an eyebrow - why would he be mad, unless Charles is secretly the worst person ever and all of his drawings are offensive? - and turns his attention to the notebook. The drawings of people really show Charles' talent more than the flowers and stuff, at least to Junpei's non-artist eye; people seem harder to draw? It makes sense!

Then—oh.]

Huh, that's me.

[He doesn't know what else to say besides that, feeling, honestly, kind of choked up for a moment. That feels silly; it's just a drawing, but there's something about the earnestness of it, the attention to detail, the vulnerability in that don't be mad still lingering as he looks at the drawing. Maybe it's been a longer and shittier couple weeks than he thought, if something like a nice little drawing is going to make him get emotional, ah—

But luckily that doesn't last too long, the vaguely overwhelmed feeling giving way to—well. He's blushing, and worse, all the way to his ears. He clears his throat, still looking at the drawing of himself giving him that look back from the page. Jeez.]

Why, uh... why would I be mad? It looks like me, so...

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my god this thread really is like 50 shades of being messed up

trauma sharing speedrun any%

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