coolerjunpei | expi inbox

[ thank you for the support of his continued effort to only wear shades of red — ]

Yeah, pretty much.

[ it does require a bit of focus, and so the more familiar the clothes, the easier it is for him to wear them — hence why he usually sticks to the same outfit. (in fact, ghost clothes depend entirely on the will, to the point where his shirt will change colour depending on his mood; during the gnosia incident, his polo had gone from red to burgundy to black, eventually; this morning, it had been an absolute bright shade of red.) ]

I — [ charles starts, and then promptly ends, too, because — well, he really should be pointing out the obvious, shouldn't he? except when he tries this whole talking thing again, what comes out is, ] I mean, sure. If you want. Just, uh, pick one. The pattern doesn't matter, I can adjust that later.

[ why is he saying this someone send help. ]

[Can't believe Charles has a mood ring shirt... It goes without saying that Junpei has not noticed this, but when he does: sorry in advance.

Anyway, let him find a nice reddish yukata, nodding. He's about to joke that Charles should get one with fish on it and they can match, but ah, no... maybe not. That, and not this other thing, would be pushing it.

He holds up the sleeve of one yukata, brighter than burgundy but still a deep red.]

You like this one? [he gives the end of the sleeve a little wave, like an adult,] You can just wear a t-shirt under it, no one's going to flip out.

[ because charles is a snob about clothes, he actually steps closer, grabs the sleeve and inspects the fabric — he can't really feel it, of course, but he can at least see how it looks up close. and then he nods. ]

Yeah, it looks good. [ with a grin, ] What, t-shirt? Nah, mate, I've got an undershirt. That'll do.

[ yes, you heard him right: so on the daily, he wears an undershirt and a polo shirt and a bomber jacket and his overcoat when outside. it's a whole ensemble.

anyway — ] Right, let's see, then. [ gently, he takes the yukata and drapes it over his arm, reaching out with his other hand to grab junpei's sleeve and drag him with him to the back of the store where they have one whole dressing room, separated from the rest of the store by a curtain. as soon as they make it there, the achkan flickers out of existence, leaving charles wearing his usual trousers, a white tank top and suspenders. ] So... [ he eyes the yukata with some apprehension; please instruct. ]

[The looming presence of a Hanes 6-pack of shitty v-necks is the real ghost haunting this moment as Junpei gives Charles a look that can only be described as incredulous about undershirts. Really, he's that fancy... wow.]

A t-shirt would still be fine...

[Just in defense of t-shirts here, and now no one has to wonder what's under Junpei's yukata, because it's absolutely the shirt he put on this morning.

It's only once the curtain on this little dressing room is drawn that Junpei realizes exactly what he's done in offering to help with this, and possibly only because he's fiddling with the curtain to make sure it's going to stay closed, who doesn't put an actual door on their changing room, come on—and then he turns, only to be faced with... suspenders. This is maybe 15% when it comes to a state of undress, but suspenders and a tank top have momentarily short-circuited the rest of his thoughts.

Oh jeez.]

Uh— Yeah, give me that. And hold your arms out like this. [He demonstrates, and once he has the yukata, shuffles around to make quick work of getting Charles' arms through it. That's the easy step; the rest is slower going, admittedly,] It's, uh, been a minute.

[Maybe the last time he helped someone else with a yukata was with his parents, which generously would have been six or seven years ago, so let him fuss and drape at a snail's pace, thanks.]

[ charles just raises his brows at that incredible attempt at defending t-shirts, and bites back a quip about how proper t-shirts are fine, thanks —

anyway. he doesn't think much of his state of undress, mostly because this is his downtime outfit, the clothes he wears when back at the agency and not dealing with clients; so it's just fine, right?

what he thinks a bit more of, then, is the rest of all of this: junpei, standing close to him when instructing him, walking round him to help him into the yukata, fiddling with the garment slowly and carefully. really slowly. and with the way he has to swallow down a sharp intake of breath every time junpei's hands touch him instead of the fabric, the way he can't seem to look away even when his mind is telling him that maybe he should just stare at the ceiling instead so he wouldn't have the visual of junpei fiddling with his clothes in his head from now on — ]

That's fine, [ he manages, finally, voice only slightly strained. ] Won't know if you do it wrong, will I? So don't worry.

[It's objectively still a shirt (and suspenders, jeez!!), but now that Junpei has the forbidden knowledge that Charles is always wearing way too many layers (like someone who knows how to dress, go figure), the tank top is so... Well, his mind has assigned it a critical level of importance, and he's doing his damnedest not to linger.

Lucky then that he has the yukata to occupy his eyes and hands with. He scoffs lightly, as Charles says that at the precise moment he's noticed he did these steps in reverse because he was thinking about how it would look to put it on himself, so hang on, he has to start over.]

I'll know. And so will people at the festival, so just- hold still.

[He's folding, he's draping, he's idly wondering if they should have stopped to pick out an obi Charles liked instead of just the one that was paired with this yukata, but Charles said don't worry about the patterns, hmm... It's another few moments of quiet, which he finds to be pretty cozy and comfortable despite his fumbling. Hmm...]

You gonna remember how to do this? I know you don't have to, but... [well, since he wanted the experience...!]

[ oh, god, is he starting over? why is this happening to him, specifically. he spares an idle thought to be grateful for the fact he doesn't need to breathe, before muttering, just a tad petulantly, ] I am still.

[ is he, though? not really. he has a hard time standing still on a good day, usually fidgeting with something, bouncing his leg, some part of him in constant motion; right now, he shuffles his feet every few seconds, his fingers curling and uncurling, as if he's trying really, really hard to not do something impulsive — but, for the most part, he's actually not moving all that much. watching junpei is keeping him occupied, quiet for once, eyes trained on him.

and from how carefully he's watching, one might think it's all to commit to memory how exactly to wear the yukata. and yet, it's with a sinking feeling charles realises he can recall absolutely fuck-all of the proper yukata-wearing etiquette. in fact, the question makes him blink, like shaken back into the present. ]

Bloody hell, [ he says, sounding a bit embarrassed, ] Forgot I was meant to be keeping an eye on that. [ he clears his throat. ] So, uh, no.

[ and because apparently his mouth is running on autopilot, what comes out next is, ] Wait, does that mean you'll help me put one on the next time I need to wear one, too?

[Junpei looks up from the yukata to raise an eyebrow, and,] Uh huh.

[Don't fidget any more than this baseline level of fidgeting, at least. Then he laughs, because really? Should he start over a second time? He won't, but wow, at least pretend to be paying attention to this critically important yukata lesson. Or, well, don't, he's not particularly bothered by Charles not committing this process to memory. The sheepishness he has about it is kind of cute, actually, if Junpei thinks about it for more than a few seconds.

And, oh,] Uh... Yeah, I could do that. Maybe I'll even get it right the first time.

[Haha. Whenever the next time someone hosts a festival, he figures, which is - fine. He'll help Charles do this again next time, which makes it kind of a routine, and routines make this whole place feel a little bit more permanent. Huh. Something to think about.]

You're not just asking so you can get out of remembering the steps, are you...?

[ it's with a quick, sheepish oi that charles objects to the laughter — not very much of an objection, really, when he knows full well he kind of deserves it. who just up and forgets the entire point of this whole thing? him, apparently. it's junpei's fault, though — he doesn't quite know how it's his fault, only that it definitely is. ]

Hey, I don't mind, [ he says, because truly, junpei could start over ten times and he'd be just fine with that. (which, considering the half of a heart attack he got when he realised they'd be standing here twice as long, well, maybe it's a thought he should examine in more detail, at some point. eventually.) ]

No. [ and then he surprises himself with how much he means that — that he's really not just asking because he knows he'd mess it up completely if he tried on his own. junpei is hardly the only one he knows, here, who would be able to do this, help him with it all, and yet he's the only one he wants to help him, which. another thought to maybe examine later at some nebulous point in the future! ]

No, [ he repeats, softer, ] Not just because of that. [ and because he's feeling strangely unmoored, then, he adds with a joking edge, ] I mean, that is part of it.

[Charles earns himself another raised eyebrow for that - they do have to get to the festival eventually, after all. Or any number of future festivals where a yukata might be appropriate to wear. That is to say, they can't spend the entire day in this changing room; it would be... unfair to other patrons... or something like that. But if they were at the inn Junpei could spend however long it takes to get Charles into a yukata properly—

Which is immaterial. The point is. There's a point. He's circling it, he'll get there eventually.

In any case,] Oh yeah? At least you're admitting it...

[With the yukata finally properly on, where is that boring obi... It gives him something to look at besides Charles, so he can ask,]

Soooo, what are the other parts?

[ as junpei turns to look for the obi, charles lets out a breath, shaking out his arms a little and making the sleeves flap — a move he repeats then just for the fun of it. but the question catches him unawares, too fast for his mind to deflect from it. because i like this, he thinks, because i like you. because getting ready like this, together, means something different, and i don't know what that is but i know i want it.

he swallows every single word back immediately. and man, but sometimes the fact ghosts can't exactly blush is a really, really nice thing.

and then, because he really needs to respond with something, he does what he does best: rallies by deflecting, summoning up a pointed grin, lets mischief leak into his voice. ] Maybe I just want an excuse to spend more time with you. And it gets you to come to a festival with me.

[ when in doubt: flirt to cover up actual emotions, works every time — ]

[Obi in hand, Junpei pauses, to pointedly consider the words if not the flirting. He sighs, exaggerated, and hangs his head in a way that doesn't entirely hide a little smirk.]

Man, it's tricking me into going to the harp concert all over again.

[Ha. Wordlessly he gestures for Charles to hold his arms still again, so that he can tie this thing without getting a faceful of sleeve. It shouldn't take nearly as long as the yukata itself, but it's a process reduced entirely to fussing around Charles' waist, and Junpei is extremely aware of every time he has to tuck a hand between belt and body. Worse, he can't even rush to the end, or else it will look bad and fancy-pants clothing snob Charles shouldn't look bad because of his fumbling...

He's made it to maybe the second to last step before he stops and says to the belt,] Goddamn it.

[And then up to Charles,] I just know you weren't paying attention to these steps, either.

[Note to self: Say them out loud maybe next time?? He'll learn. Well, let him finish this, and,] You don't need an excuse. To hang out with me, I mean.

Oi, I'm not making you wear a suit!

[ but otherwise... well, if the plan works? though he's not entirely sure about what the trick is, this time, if he's outright just making clear he wants junpei to go to the festival with him — but oh well! can't ponder on that for too long anyway, not when junpei starts to put the obi in place, and charles finds he suddenly needs his entire focus on staring at absolutely nothing, trying his very best to think of absolutely nothing, too, and certainly feel absolutely nothing.

it's a good thing he doesn't have to breathe, because not a single breath leaves him the entire time he simply stands there while junpei fusses with the belt —

and then the light cursing makes him look down, anyway, and the words that follow make him blink, and then laugh sharply in surprise and realisation because, oh yeah, he has no fucking clue what exactly junpei has been doing.

the grin doesn't go away even when his laughter does; and he can't quite help but lean forward just a bit as junpei finishes his job with the belt, hunch down so he's more or less eye level with him as he says, ]

You sure? Cause then you'll be seeing a lot more of me. [ he means for his tone to be joking; it lands rather closer to something else, low and pointed. and he'll blame the distraction of junpei's hands still there at his waist for then continuing with, ] You know there's plenty people here who know how to do this, put this thing on, yeah? But you're the only one I want to help me with it.

[Until 6-pack t-shirts and the same crummy jeans as always are festival-appropriate attire, it's all suits and harp concerts in spirit—

Still, Junpei assumes that, obi all squared away, they will leave this very small room and go to the festival in earnest, but oh - there's Charles, dashing that idea upon the rocks with his insinuations and his proximity and his pretty eyes. Ah. Junpei runs through a whole litany of ways to respond to that first comment, from oh, is that a promise? to I wouldn't mind seeing more of you right now, but he is, sadly, A Dingus, so what he says is, mumbled:]

Uh—sure. I'm sure.

[And he blinks a few times, like that will stave off the many mental images he now has of being just like this, only no yukata and no obi. Charles in his tank top and his goddamn suspenders, Junpei's hands on his waist, and...

Well, never mind that now. Junpei shakes his head lightly, biting back his immediate urge to say Charles just has low standards if he's so set on getting Junpei's clumsy, bumbling help.]

That's- that's cool. [perfect. nailing it.] Anything you need, right? I guess that includes folding help...

[He's not sure what else to say that wouldn't be, hm, way too much and way too awkward, so he settles,] I'm glad I get to be... that one. Who helps.

[Anyway, he's going to bury himself at sea, never mind—]

[ as junpei fumbles through his responses, something that's incredibly endearing and makes something inside him feel strangely warm (in the metaphorical kind of way), charles simply smiles at him — the warmth reflects in his eyes, too, even as his expression turns into something... not quite dazed but very close, because the longer he stands there, crouched, staring at junpei like he wants nothing more than to be able to draw this exact moment from memory forever —

well. the more he feels like it'd be so, so easy to simply — lean closer, bridge the distance like he'd already wanted to, back there in the park, and —

oh. oh, shit. so the impulse hadn't been just a temporary side-effect of being human again. is there, like, a self-help line to call where he could maybe ask if wanting to kiss your friend is normal? he's pretty sure it's not, but then, he had kissed crystal, and they were friends now, so — maybe? ]

Of course it's you, [ he says, tone distracted and matter-of-fact as he lets his gaze focus, again, take in junpei's expression, the way charles has somehow managed to lean a little closer despite himself, close enough to count every single individual eyelash, and oh, yeah, that's his phantom heart flipping inside his chest like it's trying to qualify for the olympics.

biting his lip, he straightens up to his full height very abruptly and looks away like his afterlife depends on it. which... it might? because otherwise he thinks he might just disintegrate on the spot. or maybe he could just fall through the floor? the shop might have a basement. that'd be a good plan. ]

[There is so much Charles in his immediate vicinity, like all up in his fries he might go so far as to say, smartly, that Junpei considers himself fully excused for letting his imagination get away from him again. Of course it's you, Charles says, and then they'd kiss, and Junpei would be a total savant at making out in changing rooms, actually, and Charles would be so impressed...

But in the real world which falls short of a romantic comedy, Charles stands straight and looks away, and that aches in a very particular way in Junpei's chest; not like his feelings are hurt, but a little disappointed all the same. That was a moment, certainly, and in the absence of anything smart to say about it Junpei looks down again like the obi and yukata need one more check to make sure he didn't royally fuck them up. Okay.

Cool.

Okay.]

So... you want to get going? Or mess with the patterns, or whatever...

[ it's with the ease and confidence of someone used to locking up every single feeling he doesn't want to look at that charles bundles up the way he still feels like his heart should be pounding, the way he still wants nothing more than to lean down and pull junpei to him and kiss him silly — and then he throws all of them into a part of his mind that's like his bag of tricks, endless and jumbled, and pulls the metaphorical drawstrings shut.

and just like that, when he looks at junpei again, it's with an entirely normal, bright smile, like absolutely nothing whatsoever has been amiss in the past couple of minutes. ]

Sure, let's go. [ and then glancing down at himself, lifting his arm and brushing his fingers against the fabric as though he might somehow be able to feel it, ] You know what, I think I'll leave it like this. I mean, don't wanna waste all your hard work, do I? And besides, then I don't have to focus on maintaining it.

[ new clothes are always a bit trickier, and he kind of wants to not have to think about it. and anyway, who's going to mind, when he's entirely visible to everyone here? pulling the curtain aside, he aims one more grin at junpei, ] Thanks, really. Now wait a tick, I'll go pay, then we can go. Wasted enough on our time on this, haven't I?

[Cool, cool cool cool, completely normal things happening in the changing room at the—the whatever this shop is called, Junpei can't be expected to think about things at this specific juncture, can he? No! Charles is being perfectly normal, ergo Junpei can also be perfectly normal about normal and ordinary things. Here in the changing room.

It's fine. He only startles minutely when Charles pulls back the curtain, like the entire shop (well, that one lady) is going to know exactly all of the things they... weren't doing.]

I— I wouldn't call it wasted... [he needs to shuffle out of this little room asap or he'll vaporize instantly, hold on, shuffling,] I mean, you wanted to dress up.

[Therefore: success! Junpei shrugs and sidles past to go wait by the door, idly peering out the front window like he can see the whole of the festival from here. He's feeling marginally less like he'll vomit his whole heart out once Charles has paid, so, hm, back to... festivities. Cool.]

You ready? I bet I could win you a fish.

[ it is only after decades of practise that charles is able to do this, tell himself everything is just fine with enough conviction that he's able to believe in it, too — ignoring everything he's not allowing himself to think about, like the way unsaid words burn inside his chest, the way a small part of his brain is yelling at him about being an idiot. but really, it's all fine. this is normal, everything's normal, and nothing happened.

it's fine.

he smiles at the lady and makes some small talk, paying for the clothes and insisting she keep the change; then, he makes his way back to where junpei is waiting, and promptly opens the door for him, this time, his eyebrows raised pointedly. ]

Yeah, ready. [ so out the door you go! though, ] Oh? Confident in yourself, are you? [ as he steps out to follow, a smirk accompanies those pointedly raised brows. ] Might hold you to that. I've always wanted a pet.

[ the smirk gives way to laughter as the door swings shut behind them. ] Almost got one, too, during the Infamous Puppy Debacle of '94. Too bad we had to return her back to hallowed ground.

[They're fine. It's festival time, and Junpei waves a hand as he heads out of the shop in a sort of ehhh motion. Confident? Sure, he's played a lot of fishing games in his day.]

You can't just say that and not tell me what kind of super holy puppy you nearly got. What do you mean, hallowed ground?

[What kind of dog was this! He has to know, and not just because he's curious, but because listening to Charles talk will surely—surely keep his mind off of, hm, other things Charles could be doing. Notably holding his hand while they walk to the festival, which is one of those thoughts that drifts into Junpei's active mind and then immediately screeches to a halt. It's not like they haven't held hands before, but those times were all... well.

Like, there was a different context and stuff... Not that that supplemental thought stops him from feeling kind of odd, like they could be holding hands and it would be nice! And it's not not nice to not hold hands, but— And on and on, circling the drain of his thoughts.

He wishes this yukata had pockets. He clears his throat. It has been maybe three seconds. Dog story??]

[ as if on instinct, as they walk, charles drifts closer to junpei — he doesn't think much of personal space as a concept, in general, but this is... different. like an itch under his ghostly skin that will not let up until he is close enough for their arms to brush as they walk; only the does it quiet down into a pleased, content hum.

(as ever, he doesn't really think about it — simply does as he feels like he should. what's there to think about, right?) ]

Well, [ charles starts, grinning widely, ] She turned out to be a church grim. And she was bound to a particular graveyard with this really old church in the middle of it — anyway, wouldn't have survived long outside it, would she?

[ he shrugs; they're walking close enough for junpei to feel the movement. ] She's still there. I go visit her sometimes. She's real cute, all black, red eyes, about this big — [ he reaches out and taps the middle of junpei's chest with his hand, ] You'd like her!

[Okay, so church grims are real, that's good to know. Junpei scoffs while Charles continues to explain - that is not a puppy. It's fortunate Charles has drifted so close to him, as that gives Junpei the perfect opportunity to nudge him in the side with his elbow. A giant scary dog!!]

She could eat me if she's that big! You want me to get eaten by your long-distance pet? Come on.

[If she didn't eat him, though, well, a dog is a dog! But he'd have to survive the initial encounter first.]

Did I tell you about Gab? The dog they gave us in the experiment. Never met a dog more into cheese than Gab. But he's a normal dog size.

Oi, [ he laughs back, half in response to the nudge, half to the eating allegations, ] Bessie would never! She's real friendly, she is, and only eats demons and other unholy things that aren't supposed to be on church grounds. And unless you're either and have been, I dunno, somehow hiding it all this time —

[ swaying sideways, he bumps their arms together, laughing. he's really got nothing to worry about in this very hypothetical situation, since, you know, it's not like they're actually going to run into bessie, or any church grim here. ]

No, mate, you definitely didn't. [ the expression charles directs at him is mock-offended, like he can't believe it's taken junpei this long to disclose this fact. ] I'd ask you to draw me a picture, but... [ a little cock of his head, pointed; chances are the picture would do more harm than good, actually. ]

I thought you liked my art, [he shoots back, faux-hurt. Is he not an artiste? Is Charles not so impressed? Junpei holds up his hands to indicate, well, the size of a small dog.]

Just imagine if a football- [a beat] -uh, the American kind, I guess, imagine if that kind of football was a dog... and also a little old man.

[That's Gab!! Imagine that little man, while Junpei considers the other thing. Are all church grims lore-compliant... what if she did eat him...]

And I don't think I've ever been to a church, actually. But not because I'd burst into flame on the grounds, or anything.

Never said I don't, [ comes the answer with a bright grin — because he does! he really does, actually, but, you know. he can like his silly drawings and also acknowledge that poor gab probably deserves better.

he then moves on to doing as instructed and imagining the little dog and coming to the conclusion he must be right adorable. ] So, small and cute. [ sounds like a description fitting for someone else he knows—

anyway! ] Well, you're not missing out. The boarding school I went to was Catholic, and it sucked. Besides, it's the stuff you do that decides your afterlife, not God or whatever.

[ it seems like he's about to go on, because charles actually has quite a lot of opinions about religion, it turns out — except they've made it to the festival area proper, now, which means there's more people around, and a gaggle of youngsters is rushing towards them and past and charles reaches out, grabs junpei's sleeve to sharply pull him with him as he takes a few quick steps to the side to avoid a collision. ]

Oi, watch it, won't you! [ his yell after the kids doesn't really do much, but he tried... ]

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