[ charles makes a noise at that, a kind of half-aborted scoff like,yes, obviously it's a bracelet, now what the hell does that mean? what is it that junpei's looking for, because he's very clearly looking for something.
but he doesn't rush him, doesn't repeat the question — which is rewarded when junpei finally answers, except the answer itself makes charles open his mouth and then snap it closed again.
give him a second, he's processing it. and then, one hand raised like he can't quite manage to fit the puzzle pieces into a coherent picture, or perhaps more like he can and doesn't want to look at the picture it makes, ]
Bloody hell, [ he says, and, ] Wait, is that why you asked if the questionnaire thing zapped us for wrong answers?
[ he pauses. looks at the bracelet again. ] Put that away, right now. If there's even the slightest chance it could do that... [ then it shouldn't be in his hands!! he's regretting handing it over, now. ]
[As always, Charles has the appropriate reaction to this stuff, always. Junpei shrugs, then nods, like yeah - yeah, that would definitely contribute to his very specific questions about punishment for wrong answers. Will he explain the AB Game in full detail...? Or the, and he's briefly extremely relieved only the bracelet followed him here, the exploding collars?
Depends on how the rest of this goes, he supposes.]
Yeah, let me— hang on. [He pops the bracelet back the right way around, needle holes not pointed out at the world, and shuffles past Charles to put it back in the drawer and push it shut. For a few extra seconds he stands there and looks at the drawer, then turns to embrace Charles and bury his face in his chest. Hey.]
For what it's worth, I don't think it works outside of the, uh, you know.
looks at ztd, yeah, that's the romance bar to beat really,
[ he watches the bracelet carefully regardless, until it is stuffed back in the drawer and charles' attention is monopolised entirely by junpei's arms around him and his face pressed against his chest. he wraps his own arms around him, a response so ingrained in him he does it automatically, his hand running through his hair gently. ]
Yeah, well. Doesn't make it okay that it did work like that back then, does it?
[ he sighs, leans his cheek against the top of junpei's head for a moment, and then says, quietly, ] How many times?
[ did it actually inject him with a lethal dose, goes the rest of the question, but he supposes it's obvious. ]
there are many bars and they are all in the ground
[With a sigh Junpei shuts his eyes, squeezing in closer to Charles and appreciating the easy comfort of him before he talks about this thing. How many times, that's a question with a thousand different answers, all things considered.]
Uh... one that I can remember? But the knockout drugs came with an amnesia drug, and who'd know if any of that history-mindmelding-with-yourself fell off in the middle, you know?
[Is this reassuring. It's not. He coughs.]
But probably just the one time that I can remember.
Of course they did, [ he mutters in a very tired voice, in place of just saying what the fuck repeatedly. to distract himself from this, he focuses on just running his hand through junpei's hair for a moment.
and then, because he might as well go all in now that they've started... ]
And you remembering — none of it happened to this version of you, specifically, but you've got the memories of the versions all that did happen to?
[ does he have this right... he remembers it still, from the time they talked about it, but he never quite clarified this one thing: this one thing that, essentially, means it all might as well have happened to him, anyway. ]
[The time travel thing is pretty complicated, in Charles' defense, and that's all Junpei is thinking about when he considers the logic for a moment and confirms,] Yeah, that's pretty much the deal. That version of me didn't make it, but yeah, I know what happened.
[He pauses to consider; can he tell Charles about the AB Game, actually? Leaving aside that some other, additional version of him made the choice to get Carlos needled by the bracelet, well - when it was his turn, it was Carlos who pushed that button, wasn't it? He's not sure he can keep ruining his friends' reputations in Charles' eyes, so...
Maybe, maybe not. He'll think about it.]
I mean, there are infinite histories and whatever else, so it's not all of the other versions of me. Just some.
[ he tightens his arms around junpei; because that is, in the end, almost the same thing as having died himself, isn't it? if he has the memory... he thinks of hell, for a moment, of the pile of bodies in the corner, except instead of edwin he imagines it to be junpei instead, dead because of a bracelet, because of dismemberment, because of a variety of other things —
his hands are gripping onto his shirt so, so very tight, because otherwise they might be shaking. ]
Right, just some. [ like that makes it better. like that makes it okay, somehow. ]
[Just some! Some is less than all, isn't it? Just some is finite, unlike space and time, so just some is probably the preferred option, considering what else he knows about quantum mechanics.
But Charles isn't part of all that, and Junpei remembers the other times they've talked about this, including the one where he actually teared up, and he doesn't want to repeat that if he can help it. He gives is a moment before he leans back enough to look up at Charles, brow furrowed.]
Hey, it's not... It's just memories, right? Not really me.
[That logic keeps him going most of the time, maybe it will also work on Charles.]
[ now, truthfully, charles isn't a big fan of serious conversations — his thing is staying optimistic, keeping morale up, and none of that includes talking about... well. things like this. and yet, with junpei trying his hardest to logic this all away somehow, he can't — he can't help it. ]
What else are we if not memories, yeah? Why — why the hell does that make it okay, that it wasn't this version of you? It still happened, didn't it? And you remember it, so it might as well have been you. And that's not okay.
Okay, a lot of things "still happened," so that's not the same thing.
[Please don't ask him a) what those things are, or b) why this makes a tangible difference, because he doesn't have an answer to at least one of those. Still, it feels like it should be fine to logic himself out of this if only because saying it wasn't him should be enough. No one else has to remember all of their horrible bad ends, ergo it's not fair, ergo the cheap wallpapering over it with crummy logic is fine.
Probably.]
Look, what am I supposed to do about it? Did the cosmic microwave background of bullshit care about whether or not something was okay? Not even close.
[ sorry, failed step one right there — but as much as junpei is very good at not asking him any difficult questions, charles isn't quite so good at that. he's never been good at it, not being told things; and perhaps, in a strange way, it's a show of just how much he trusts the love they have, that he's pushing at all, in the first place.
so he sighs, and lets go of junpei so that he can run his hand through his hair in vague frustration. ]
What are you supposed to do? You're supposed to trust me with it. Instead of telling me it's all okay, which it's not, when I don't even know what "it" really is. What do you think I'm gonna do? Not believe you?
[ he sighs again, biting his lip. ] I'm not saying you have to — I mean, you don't have to do anything, or say anything you don't want to. But...
[ but he wishes he would, is the gist of it, even if he doesn't say as much. ]
[Part of Junpei is annoyed, admittedly, to be pressed. It's not Charles, not exactly, it's the overwhelming apathy of, like, the fucking cosmos held up next to Charles' frustration about things that aren't okay. It feels—childish almost, to be annoyed about this, even to be upset about "it" and "a lot of things," childish to say anything at all; so Junpei folds his arms over his chest and looks away.
Besides, he thinks, it's not like Charles tells him a hundred percent of his own shit, but immediately he tells himself that's not fair either, and it's all he can do to stand there and grip his arms a little too hard, thinking. Here's Charles getting frustrated with him and then immediately pulling back on it, and Junpei recalls the litany of times Akane did this exact same thing to him, letting him beg to be let in. Waiting until he talked himself out of it. Answering nothing at all except when it didn't matter anymore.
Charles sure did reach the second step of that in record time, he notes, but more importantly: Junpei doesn't want to be that person. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.]
It's just going to freak you out, but... you're right. Come on. [This time it feels, hm, not the right time exactly to squish himself into Charles again, so he gives him a light shoulder bump as he shuffles past. He's going to go climb into bed; some conversations are best had pre-collapsed.
Anyway, Charles can join him or stand there, but Junpei addresses the ceiling either way:] I don't know where you want me to start.
[ there's something to be said for the way until now, even so much as thinking about annoying junpei with anything would have sent him spiraling — but here, it's worth it, when it's about this. he can handle that annoyance, can trust that it'll abate eventually; but he can't handle not at least trying.
granted, he's also trying to soften it, leave it to be junpei's own decision what to do or say, instead of really pushing him into talking; won't you tell me what really happened, his own voice rings in his ears, and the many times edwin kept shutting him out despite him asking, and asking, and asking.
and unfortunately, thinking of all that, the shoulder bump just reminds him of the few but memorable times edwin's stormed out on him, usually bumping into him forcefully in the process, the equivalent of a door slam when the entire row is happening in the middle of a street — so he closes his eyes for a moment, taking it as a sign of anger more than anything else, but it's fine. it's fine — if this means junpei's talking to him about this, then that's what matters. he can handle the anger, just as he can handle junpei not so much as looking at him; it's why he remains standing where he is, before taking a few steps, and eventually settling on leaning against the dresser. ]
What does it matter if it freaks me out, [ he mutters, crossing his arms. ] Why does everyone keep thinking I'd rather be kept in the dark about the details, when the details will eventually hit me in the fucking face anyway?
[ hell had, after all, and he wouldn't put it past this place to somehow slap them both with junpei's past, in the future. so he sighs, then, runs his hand through his hair again, the curls looking truly wild now. ] Don't know either, do I? That's kind of the point.
[Junpei makes a face up at the ceiling and says nothing; his gut instinct is to snap back about how maybe not talking about this stuff is how he keeps it from hitting Charles in the face, but that's already demonstrably been proven false, hasn't it? His stupid fucking plan during the Gnosia incident, which he explained like an idiot... Fine, maybe it would have come out eventually, anyway. Fine.]
Okay, fine, it freaks me out, whatever.
[Half-mumbled, like if he doesn't say it too loud he doesn't have to actually acknowledge it, doesn't have to look these particular truths in the eye. He really doesn't know where to start, besides; Charles is mad at him about this thing, he's gotten that. Which part? How many details does he really want, or would an abridged version let Junpei go back to putting it in a box and ignoring it?
No, that isn't fair. He won't do that to Charles. The enormity of the thing is one he's carried around for months and yet somehow it feels even heavier now, sitting on his chest while he frowns at the ceiling with no idea where to start chipping away at it. No one has ever asked him to before; he was relying on Charles again to tell him where to start, but that too is unfair.
Ultimately he holds his hands up, two loose fists. He will count on his fingers, as rote and dispassionate as he can manage:]
Bracelet needles. Head in the freezer. Exploding collar. [ah, it's already terrible, and he speeds it up to just get it out faster,] Acid shower, poisoned, exploded, exploded, Gatling guns, Gatling guns a second time unless you want to start talking about probability, forgot an exploded, gassed, stabbed in the gut and left to get the fucking plague or something which I'm including because it pissed me off, one more explosion...
[He pauses; he's been dutifully holding up fingers for each one but not actually counting along. There's another implied explosion he could mention, but you know what... he doesn't want to for some reason. He puts his hands down.]
Pick one, I don't know. I really don't know what you want me to tell you.
[ it freaks me out, junpei says and charles has to bite down on an apology immediately; because he doesn't want him to be freaked, and isn't that exactly the reason edwin never told him about hell? partly to save him, yes, needlessly so... but partly because it was so painful to think about.
and that is what he thinks of, when junpei starts with his list; slowly, without making one single sound, he slides down to sit on the floor instead, closes his eyes as the list goes on, and on, and on.
why is it, he thinks, that the people he loves the most in all the worlds have had to die so many times, in such horrible, unfair ways? and why is it that both times, he's only hearing about it after it's all happened, unable to help, unable to do anything except sit here and be useless and he — he's already feeling terrible about essentially forcing junpei into doing this, already feels almost physically ill with hearing that dispassionate tone.
there are already tears in his eyes, because thinking of this and hell at the same time would do it; and privately, he thinks he knows now exactly what his own hell would look like, every single death junpei is listing out imprinting itself in his memory.
instead of saying that, it is only with decades of practice that he manages to sound pretty damn steady as he says, ] Why? I mean... I know you said you shifted to a different timeline when you were in danger, but — was there no other way?
[ he realises how stupid it sounds immediately; it's not like he'd have died all those times if he could have helped it, right? of course there was no other way. ] Sorry. Just... how did those happen? Was it always just — things went wrong and you had to switch timelines after?
[See, this is why he didn't want to talk about this, at least in part; he hates upsetting Charles about things that have already happened, things in the past. The Decision Game is over and done, the things on his list are over and done, so why bring it up and upset them both—]
Uh, well, [he starts, and that should be answer enough about how all of these things happened,] Nnnno? Sometimes we would just... be killed. By each other.
[And to make things worse,] But that is the only way to shift to another history, yeah. As far as I know, but... not like I'm going to find out.
[Both because no one would tell him, oops, and because he has no real intention to investigate time travel any further. He said it already, this is the timeline they get, without messing around with the timeline.
He shifts to sit up on his elbows and look at Charles, and ah, nightmare scenario: he's upset. Junpei shoves himself the rest of the way up only to slide down to the floor himself and scoot over to Charles on his knees.]
Hey, come here, [he mumbles, reaching for Charles' shoulder and pulling him into his arms.] Sorry. I could've said something, I know.
[ oh, and that's a far worse answer than anything he could have assumed — especially with his own experiences of, you know, being killed by people you know, and all that.
the tears are falling freely by this point, so when junpei finally looks at him, he is faced by charles, swallowing down his sobs so he makes as little noise as possible — and yet, when he actually gets down on the floor too, scoots over to him, charles tries to shake his head, tell him wordlessly that he shouldn't bother; but of course that does nothing, and in the end, he doesn't have enough strength to not fall against junpei, clutch at him like he might disappear any second if he didn't, bury his head against his shoulder as he fights against the overwhelming wave of sadness over every single terrible thing that junpei's carried all alone all this time. ]
No, [ he manages eventually, though his voice hitches still, ] No, don't say sorry, none of this's your fault. You shouldn't have... I just wanted you to not be alone with all that. But I didn't mean —
[ didn't mean to force him to relive the worst parts of his trauma, really. he pulls back slightly, so that he can look at junpei with his red-rimmed eyes when he says, ] I'm so fucking sorry all that happened to you. None of it's fair. None of it's okay. And I know it's over and done and all, but... I just need you to know that.
[Oh, Junpei thinks, he's like, crying crying, and maybe that shakes something loose in the back of his mind; he remembers not being able to shed a tear the last time Charles had gotten... misty, and how odd that felt. It feels odder still now, to have Charles openly crying on his shoulder and to still feel more for that, for him, than for himself.
How many things were on his list, ten? Fifteen? All of them hang heavy around his neck, and thinking about being back there fills him with a sick dread, all of it objectively terrible, but... Put away in the box, still. Tucked away so deeply, so thoroughly that he's suddenly not sure his, uh... brain works? It's the same as the feeling he had the first time, and mm, he ignored it then, too.
Well. Right now, Charles is the focal point, his emotional jumper cables, and it rips his heart out to see him like this. He cups Charles' face in one hand when he pulls back, presses a thumb against his cheek and smears a tear away. If he was annoyed by the questioning earlier, it's gone now, slate wiped clean by the actually important thing: making sure Charles is okay.
Or, wait, and,] I— yeah. I know. I guess I... [He shrugs one shoulder, searching for the right thing to say,] It got... weird in there, you know? Nobody seemed to care that much about the dying thing, and then it was straight here as soon as we got out, so...
[So maybe they'd have acted normal about it if they'd come along, or if he hadn't come here, and he's putting Akane specifically in the box of things he doesn't think about, because it wasn't the first time. He tugs Charles back in close, pressing a kiss to his forehead.]
But I am sorry for saying, uh, fuckall. Not getting the whole story's a real pain in the ass, I get that. I guess I was still thinking like six-months-ago me, when you were just the cute guy from the network. Sorry.
[Now that they've both collapsed, as predicted, gently,] You want to come back up on the bed with me now?
[ it makes him feel some modicum of embarrassment, the way all this is making him sob like this while junpei himself seems so far less affected by shit that actually happened to him — but it's not like he can help it, the way just so much as thinking about the person he loves the most dying so many times, being in pain, and not even being allowed a moment to process any of it, it all cracks him open, fills the depths of his soul with so much sorrow he's drowning in it, and the only way to deal with it is let at least some of it out.
he tilts his head to press against junpei's hand, sniffles a few times, lifts his own hand to wipe the remaining tears with the back of his hand. this isn't a guarantee he won't break down again over this, but at least for now he's more composed, even if his breaths are still hitching a little, like there's little hooks in each of them, catching at his throat. ]
It's okay, [ he says softly, with immediate forgiveness. ] Just, we promised to carry each other's burdens, didn't we? But I can't do that if you don't talk to me. [ gently, to show that he doesn't mean it as admonishment, doesn't hold it against junpei at all when he knows he himself is just as bad at actually talking about his issues, he slides his hands around him again and pulls junpei to him, tucks his face in the crook of his neck for a moment to simply hold him close.
and then, pulling back, ] ... Yeah. Yeah, the bed sounds aces.
[Well—the bed first, before tackling anything else. Junpei mumbles some nonsense about it, an "up we go" as he moves to get them both up there without letting go of Charles for even a moment, and it's only when they've managed to get up there and settled properly into hanging onto each other that he lets himself think about the rest.
They've promised a handful of things, and it's true that neither of them have managed this particular one perfectly well, but - hmm.]
One thing at a time, [is what he comes up with, turning his head to press another kiss to Charles, his temple or his cheek or literally anywhere, anywhere is good,] We can... re-promise, yeah? Starting now.
[Now, of course, to loop Charles' remaining secrets into this circle of forgiveness. Of course there are things Junpei doesn't know, still - the fucking snake thing, Charles going off for those days by himself - but it's fine now. Promise renewed. Easy.
Still. Starting now... Then,] You know how I was counting days 'til my birthday? It was January first when we got out of that hellhole bunker. The new year turned over in the middle of, you know, everything... And now it's generic winter holiday season here, so...
[So he's been quieter, is the rest of that. No matter how hard he pretends it happened to someone else, it's still there. He squeezes his arm tighter around Charles, a physical reminder that Charles is still there, too.]
[ he moves on autopilot — everything is fine, as long as he doesn't have to let go of junpei, and the only notable upside the bed has for him is that it makes it easier for him to hold him better, closer.
the kiss junpei presses against his cheek makes him smile, a little tremulous but real, and he turns his head, too, to press their foreheads together for just a moment, like a punctuation mark on the promise. ] Yeah, [ he says, quiet and honest and all too aware that he's not exactly done his part of their previous promise, either, ] Starting now.
[ echoing the words, there, an i promise without saying as much — and maybe this time, they'll actually do better. junpei certainly is trying, speaking quietly about the time of year, and yeah, that explains his quietness, then. and charles gets it — of course he gets it, he'd done the exact same thing a month or so ago. ]
I get it. Hard not to think about stuff when it's the anniversary, yeah? [ he sighs, and now it's his turn to lean slightly closer, to press a light kiss to wherever he can reach without jostling the way they're holding each other too much. ]
But that's the difference, innit? It's been — half a year or so, then. And if you haven't talked about it more than this... [ he pauses, concern evident in his eyes and tone. ] Love, I know I don't exactly talk about my stuff, either, but I've at least had decades to sort of... sit with it all.
[ sort of, because as much as he's not talking about it and his very complicated feelings over his family and his death, at least he's not pretending it's all okay — well. no, alright, so he's trying to pretend it's all okay because it's easier that way, sometimes, but he does know he's got a lot of shit to sort through. he knows it upsets him, he knows it's not actually fine, any of it; his lack of talking about it has been mostly to avoid burdening anyone else with it all.
but junpei? he's not entirely sure if he's admitted any of that to himself, first of all: that it's not fine. that he can be angry over it, or upset, or sad — anything at all over the terrible emptiness in his voice as he listed his multitude of deaths.
but there has to be a way he can help, right? there has to. ]
[The plan now is to stay like this, a tangle of limbs and muddy emotions, and that's fine. That's cool, in Junpei's opinion, much better than the sight of Charles crying on the floor. It doesn't make Junpei want to talk any more eagerly, nothing really can; it's the fresh promise to Charles and really that alone that keeps him here instead of rolling away to pretend it all never happened.
He does still scoff, though, for "anniversary." Makes it sound like he has to remember the worst days of his life, and that's bullshit. It's bullshit that Charles has had to "sit with it," to carry his own shit around, and for a moment Junpei feels a spike of annoyance. Does Charles not have all those friends around? Do they really dismiss him the same way Akane does? What the fuck—]
What? If you— yeah, uh, absolutely. Yes. [Actually that's a huge relief, to give any of this some kind of direction and not just throw things out into the air and hope someone catches them.] I mean, the last time I told anyone... my whole deal was back then, and the bastard mastermind interrupted. And then I got nothing but oh Junpei, you've changed, you're soooo different now, boohoo—
[Ahem. Simply put,] It'd help if you asked stuff, yeah.
[ of course, he hardly sees anything wrong with what he's said — it isn't that he actively believes edwin would not, you know, listen to him, and more that edwin plays trauma olympics like a pro, and that's one game he will always, always win; so really, what do his issues matter, when compared to the enormity that is hell? and his death, even more so; edwin had been there, after all. he already knows everything relevant to know, why would he talk about it?
but that's not the point here, at all — they're not talking about him, the focus here is junpei and his experiences, which... oh, hm, apparently charles' emotions aren't quite stable, yet, because that — the response that he'd got, back then — makes him grit his teeth in a fresh wave of anger. ]
What the hell? You — I mean, not like I knew you before we met here, but... you said you were a PI, yeah? [ with a quiet sigh, no less angry but understanding, too, ] Being a detective fucking sucks, sometimes. A lot of the time, actually, unless you've got ways to get through the stuff you see and hear.
[ at least he's already dead; that gives you something against it all, as does the knowledge that he's also dealing with already dead people. for junpei, it must've been even worse, and for him to have received no sympathy for it at all —
he pulls junpei to him, then, squeezing him close for a moment as he takes a few deep breaths, give him a second — ]
Right, [ he says, pulling back, looking at junpei, the anger replaced by something soft and quiet. ] Right, I'll ask. But if you don't wanna answer, then just say pass, yeah? And I'll ask something else.
[Charles' anger flares in, Junpei thinks, the exact same way his own did seconds before, and so he doesn't bother to refute it. Could he, sure, he could make excuses for Akane until he's blue in the face - he'll think of a better metaphor, considering - but maybe, actually, part of him is satisfied to hear Charles get angry on his behalf. He curls into Charles squeezing him like that, cheek pressing against his shoulder, and he can't help but smile, if strained.
He'd rather Charles not have to feel any of this, but he won't lie, it's comforting that he cares enough to get this up in arms about even one vague thing.]
It does suck. Don't really have any good ways, I guess, [ahem,] but I make sandwiches now, so...
[So, step one: get the fuck out of the worst profession, complete! Maybe they'll come back to that. He slides a hand up to Charles' hair, idly pushing it back into place from how wild it's gotten.]
[ why wouldn't he be angry? he'd said it once, that he'd fight the whole damn world for junpei — and he would, of course he would. and that includes getting really mad when he's not treated with the kindness and respect that he should be.
and there's a host of thoughts flitting through his head, then — the lack of good ways, a quiet just how alone were you that he can't quite voice, the realisation that if, if they ever make it out of here with their memories intact, junpei's going to get pulled right back to detective work and that's a hypothetical and a problem for another day.
he tilts his head a little into the touch, an automatic movement, before he thinks for some more and finally says, ] This isn't really about, um, the bunker, but... how did you get through the PI thing?
[ so yeah, they're coming back to it right away, actually, now that it's been brought up; he can move on to the bunker next, he supposes. but this, too, is important. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lmf luckily that's definitely not on the list of things to do this new year
but he doesn't rush him, doesn't repeat the question — which is rewarded when junpei finally answers, except the answer itself makes charles open his mouth and then snap it closed again.
give him a second, he's processing it. and then, one hand raised like he can't quite manage to fit the puzzle pieces into a coherent picture, or perhaps more like he can and doesn't want to look at the picture it makes, ]
Bloody hell, [ he says, and, ] Wait, is that why you asked if the questionnaire thing zapped us for wrong answers?
[ he pauses. looks at the bracelet again. ] Put that away, right now. If there's even the slightest chance it could do that... [ then it shouldn't be in his hands!! he's regretting handing it over, now. ]
the sheer romance of not killing him--
Depends on how the rest of this goes, he supposes.]
Yeah, let me— hang on. [He pops the bracelet back the right way around, needle holes not pointed out at the world, and shuffles past Charles to put it back in the drawer and push it shut. For a few extra seconds he stands there and looks at the drawer, then turns to embrace Charles and bury his face in his chest. Hey.]
For what it's worth, I don't think it works outside of the, uh, you know.
looks at ztd, yeah, that's the romance bar to beat really,
Yeah, well. Doesn't make it okay that it did work like that back then, does it?
[ he sighs, leans his cheek against the top of junpei's head for a moment, and then says, quietly, ] How many times?
[ did it actually inject him with a lethal dose, goes the rest of the question, but he supposes it's obvious. ]
there are many bars and they are all in the ground
Uh... one that I can remember? But the knockout drugs came with an amnesia drug, and who'd know if any of that history-mindmelding-with-yourself fell off in the middle, you know?
[Is this reassuring. It's not. He coughs.]
But probably just the one time that I can remember.
no subject
and then, because he might as well go all in now that they've started... ]
And you remembering — none of it happened to this version of you, specifically, but you've got the memories of the versions all that did happen to?
[ does he have this right... he remembers it still, from the time they talked about it, but he never quite clarified this one thing: this one thing that, essentially, means it all might as well have happened to him, anyway. ]
no subject
[He pauses to consider; can he tell Charles about the AB Game, actually? Leaving aside that some other, additional version of him made the choice to get Carlos needled by the bracelet, well - when it was his turn, it was Carlos who pushed that button, wasn't it? He's not sure he can keep ruining his friends' reputations in Charles' eyes, so...
Maybe, maybe not. He'll think about it.]
I mean, there are infinite histories and whatever else, so it's not all of the other versions of me. Just some.
no subject
[ he tightens his arms around junpei; because that is, in the end, almost the same thing as having died himself, isn't it? if he has the memory... he thinks of hell, for a moment, of the pile of bodies in the corner, except instead of edwin he imagines it to be junpei instead, dead because of a bracelet, because of dismemberment, because of a variety of other things —
his hands are gripping onto his shirt so, so very tight, because otherwise they might be shaking. ]
Right, just some. [ like that makes it better. like that makes it okay, somehow. ]
no subject
But Charles isn't part of all that, and Junpei remembers the other times they've talked about this, including the one where he actually teared up, and he doesn't want to repeat that if he can help it. He gives is a moment before he leans back enough to look up at Charles, brow furrowed.]
Hey, it's not... It's just memories, right? Not really me.
[That logic keeps him going most of the time, maybe it will also work on Charles.]
no subject
[ now, truthfully, charles isn't a big fan of serious conversations — his thing is staying optimistic, keeping morale up, and none of that includes talking about... well. things like this. and yet, with junpei trying his hardest to logic this all away somehow, he can't — he can't help it. ]
What else are we if not memories, yeah? Why — why the hell does that make it okay, that it wasn't this version of you? It still happened, didn't it? And you remember it, so it might as well have been you. And that's not okay.
no subject
[Please don't ask him a) what those things are, or b) why this makes a tangible difference, because he doesn't have an answer to at least one of those. Still, it feels like it should be fine to logic himself out of this if only because saying it wasn't him should be enough. No one else has to remember all of their horrible bad ends, ergo it's not fair, ergo the cheap wallpapering over it with crummy logic is fine.
Probably.]
Look, what am I supposed to do about it? Did the cosmic microwave background of bullshit care about whether or not something was okay? Not even close.
no subject
[ sorry, failed step one right there — but as much as junpei is very good at not asking him any difficult questions, charles isn't quite so good at that. he's never been good at it, not being told things; and perhaps, in a strange way, it's a show of just how much he trusts the love they have, that he's pushing at all, in the first place.
so he sighs, and lets go of junpei so that he can run his hand through his hair in vague frustration. ]
What are you supposed to do? You're supposed to trust me with it. Instead of telling me it's all okay, which it's not, when I don't even know what "it" really is. What do you think I'm gonna do? Not believe you?
[ he sighs again, biting his lip. ] I'm not saying you have to — I mean, you don't have to do anything, or say anything you don't want to. But...
[ but he wishes he would, is the gist of it, even if he doesn't say as much. ]
no subject
Besides, he thinks, it's not like Charles tells him a hundred percent of his own shit, but immediately he tells himself that's not fair either, and it's all he can do to stand there and grip his arms a little too hard, thinking. Here's Charles getting frustrated with him and then immediately pulling back on it, and Junpei recalls the litany of times Akane did this exact same thing to him, letting him beg to be let in. Waiting until he talked himself out of it. Answering nothing at all except when it didn't matter anymore.
Charles sure did reach the second step of that in record time, he notes, but more importantly: Junpei doesn't want to be that person. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.]
It's just going to freak you out, but... you're right. Come on. [This time it feels, hm, not the right time exactly to squish himself into Charles again, so he gives him a light shoulder bump as he shuffles past. He's going to go climb into bed; some conversations are best had pre-collapsed.
Anyway, Charles can join him or stand there, but Junpei addresses the ceiling either way:] I don't know where you want me to start.
no subject
granted, he's also trying to soften it, leave it to be junpei's own decision what to do or say, instead of really pushing him into talking; won't you tell me what really happened, his own voice rings in his ears, and the many times edwin kept shutting him out despite him asking, and asking, and asking.
and unfortunately, thinking of all that, the shoulder bump just reminds him of the few but memorable times edwin's stormed out on him, usually bumping into him forcefully in the process, the equivalent of a door slam when the entire row is happening in the middle of a street — so he closes his eyes for a moment, taking it as a sign of anger more than anything else, but it's fine. it's fine — if this means junpei's talking to him about this, then that's what matters. he can handle the anger, just as he can handle junpei not so much as looking at him; it's why he remains standing where he is, before taking a few steps, and eventually settling on leaning against the dresser. ]
What does it matter if it freaks me out, [ he mutters, crossing his arms. ] Why does everyone keep thinking I'd rather be kept in the dark about the details, when the details will eventually hit me in the fucking face anyway?
[ hell had, after all, and he wouldn't put it past this place to somehow slap them both with junpei's past, in the future. so he sighs, then, runs his hand through his hair again, the curls looking truly wild now. ] Don't know either, do I? That's kind of the point.
no subject
Okay, fine, it freaks me out, whatever.
[Half-mumbled, like if he doesn't say it too loud he doesn't have to actually acknowledge it, doesn't have to look these particular truths in the eye. He really doesn't know where to start, besides; Charles is mad at him about this thing, he's gotten that. Which part? How many details does he really want, or would an abridged version let Junpei go back to putting it in a box and ignoring it?
No, that isn't fair. He won't do that to Charles. The enormity of the thing is one he's carried around for months and yet somehow it feels even heavier now, sitting on his chest while he frowns at the ceiling with no idea where to start chipping away at it. No one has ever asked him to before; he was relying on Charles again to tell him where to start, but that too is unfair.
Ultimately he holds his hands up, two loose fists. He will count on his fingers, as rote and dispassionate as he can manage:]
Bracelet needles. Head in the freezer. Exploding collar. [ah, it's already terrible, and he speeds it up to just get it out faster,] Acid shower, poisoned, exploded, exploded, Gatling guns, Gatling guns a second time unless you want to start talking about probability, forgot an exploded, gassed, stabbed in the gut and left to get the fucking plague or something which I'm including because it pissed me off, one more explosion...
[He pauses; he's been dutifully holding up fingers for each one but not actually counting along. There's another implied explosion he could mention, but you know what... he doesn't want to for some reason. He puts his hands down.]
Pick one, I don't know. I really don't know what you want me to tell you.
no subject
and that is what he thinks of, when junpei starts with his list; slowly, without making one single sound, he slides down to sit on the floor instead, closes his eyes as the list goes on, and on, and on.
why is it, he thinks, that the people he loves the most in all the worlds have had to die so many times, in such horrible, unfair ways? and why is it that both times, he's only hearing about it after it's all happened, unable to help, unable to do anything except sit here and be useless and he — he's already feeling terrible about essentially forcing junpei into doing this, already feels almost physically ill with hearing that dispassionate tone.
there are already tears in his eyes, because thinking of this and hell at the same time would do it; and privately, he thinks he knows now exactly what his own hell would look like, every single death junpei is listing out imprinting itself in his memory.
instead of saying that, it is only with decades of practice that he manages to sound pretty damn steady as he says, ] Why? I mean... I know you said you shifted to a different timeline when you were in danger, but — was there no other way?
[ he realises how stupid it sounds immediately; it's not like he'd have died all those times if he could have helped it, right? of course there was no other way. ] Sorry. Just... how did those happen? Was it always just — things went wrong and you had to switch timelines after?
no subject
Uh, well, [he starts, and that should be answer enough about how all of these things happened,] Nnnno? Sometimes we would just... be killed. By each other.
[And to make things worse,] But that is the only way to shift to another history, yeah. As far as I know, but... not like I'm going to find out.
[Both because no one would tell him, oops, and because he has no real intention to investigate time travel any further. He said it already, this is the timeline they get, without messing around with the timeline.
He shifts to sit up on his elbows and look at Charles, and ah, nightmare scenario: he's upset. Junpei shoves himself the rest of the way up only to slide down to the floor himself and scoot over to Charles on his knees.]
Hey, come here, [he mumbles, reaching for Charles' shoulder and pulling him into his arms.] Sorry. I could've said something, I know.
no subject
the tears are falling freely by this point, so when junpei finally looks at him, he is faced by charles, swallowing down his sobs so he makes as little noise as possible — and yet, when he actually gets down on the floor too, scoots over to him, charles tries to shake his head, tell him wordlessly that he shouldn't bother; but of course that does nothing, and in the end, he doesn't have enough strength to not fall against junpei, clutch at him like he might disappear any second if he didn't, bury his head against his shoulder as he fights against the overwhelming wave of sadness over every single terrible thing that junpei's carried all alone all this time. ]
No, [ he manages eventually, though his voice hitches still, ] No, don't say sorry, none of this's your fault. You shouldn't have... I just wanted you to not be alone with all that. But I didn't mean —
[ didn't mean to force him to relive the worst parts of his trauma, really. he pulls back slightly, so that he can look at junpei with his red-rimmed eyes when he says, ] I'm so fucking sorry all that happened to you. None of it's fair. None of it's okay. And I know it's over and done and all, but... I just need you to know that.
no subject
How many things were on his list, ten? Fifteen? All of them hang heavy around his neck, and thinking about being back there fills him with a sick dread, all of it objectively terrible, but... Put away in the box, still. Tucked away so deeply, so thoroughly that he's suddenly not sure his, uh... brain works? It's the same as the feeling he had the first time, and mm, he ignored it then, too.
Well. Right now, Charles is the focal point, his emotional jumper cables, and it rips his heart out to see him like this. He cups Charles' face in one hand when he pulls back, presses a thumb against his cheek and smears a tear away. If he was annoyed by the questioning earlier, it's gone now, slate wiped clean by the actually important thing: making sure Charles is okay.
Or, wait, and,] I— yeah. I know. I guess I... [He shrugs one shoulder, searching for the right thing to say,] It got... weird in there, you know? Nobody seemed to care that much about the dying thing, and then it was straight here as soon as we got out, so...
[So maybe they'd have acted normal about it if they'd come along, or if he hadn't come here, and he's putting Akane specifically in the box of things he doesn't think about, because it wasn't the first time. He tugs Charles back in close, pressing a kiss to his forehead.]
But I am sorry for saying, uh, fuckall. Not getting the whole story's a real pain in the ass, I get that. I guess I was still thinking like six-months-ago me, when you were just the cute guy from the network. Sorry.
[Now that they've both collapsed, as predicted, gently,] You want to come back up on the bed with me now?
no subject
he tilts his head to press against junpei's hand, sniffles a few times, lifts his own hand to wipe the remaining tears with the back of his hand. this isn't a guarantee he won't break down again over this, but at least for now he's more composed, even if his breaths are still hitching a little, like there's little hooks in each of them, catching at his throat. ]
It's okay, [ he says softly, with immediate forgiveness. ] Just, we promised to carry each other's burdens, didn't we? But I can't do that if you don't talk to me. [ gently, to show that he doesn't mean it as admonishment, doesn't hold it against junpei at all when he knows he himself is just as bad at actually talking about his issues, he slides his hands around him again and pulls junpei to him, tucks his face in the crook of his neck for a moment to simply hold him close.
and then, pulling back, ] ... Yeah. Yeah, the bed sounds aces.
no subject
They've promised a handful of things, and it's true that neither of them have managed this particular one perfectly well, but - hmm.]
One thing at a time, [is what he comes up with, turning his head to press another kiss to Charles, his temple or his cheek or literally anywhere, anywhere is good,] We can... re-promise, yeah? Starting now.
[Now, of course, to loop Charles' remaining secrets into this circle of forgiveness. Of course there are things Junpei doesn't know, still - the fucking snake thing, Charles going off for those days by himself - but it's fine now. Promise renewed. Easy.
Still. Starting now... Then,] You know how I was counting days 'til my birthday? It was January first when we got out of that hellhole bunker. The new year turned over in the middle of, you know, everything... And now it's generic winter holiday season here, so...
[So he's been quieter, is the rest of that. No matter how hard he pretends it happened to someone else, it's still there. He squeezes his arm tighter around Charles, a physical reminder that Charles is still there, too.]
Well, that's... another thing, I guess.
no subject
the kiss junpei presses against his cheek makes him smile, a little tremulous but real, and he turns his head, too, to press their foreheads together for just a moment, like a punctuation mark on the promise. ] Yeah, [ he says, quiet and honest and all too aware that he's not exactly done his part of their previous promise, either, ] Starting now.
[ echoing the words, there, an i promise without saying as much — and maybe this time, they'll actually do better. junpei certainly is trying, speaking quietly about the time of year, and yeah, that explains his quietness, then. and charles gets it — of course he gets it, he'd done the exact same thing a month or so ago. ]
I get it. Hard not to think about stuff when it's the anniversary, yeah? [ he sighs, and now it's his turn to lean slightly closer, to press a light kiss to wherever he can reach without jostling the way they're holding each other too much. ]
But that's the difference, innit? It's been — half a year or so, then. And if you haven't talked about it more than this... [ he pauses, concern evident in his eyes and tone. ] Love, I know I don't exactly talk about my stuff, either, but I've at least had decades to sort of... sit with it all.
[ sort of, because as much as he's not talking about it and his very complicated feelings over his family and his death, at least he's not pretending it's all okay — well. no, alright, so he's trying to pretend it's all okay because it's easier that way, sometimes, but he does know he's got a lot of shit to sort through. he knows it upsets him, he knows it's not actually fine, any of it; his lack of talking about it has been mostly to avoid burdening anyone else with it all.
but junpei? he's not entirely sure if he's admitted any of that to himself, first of all: that it's not fine. that he can be angry over it, or upset, or sad — anything at all over the terrible emptiness in his voice as he listed his multitude of deaths.
but there has to be a way he can help, right? there has to. ]
Is it easier if I... I dunno, ask stuff?
no subject
He does still scoff, though, for "anniversary." Makes it sound like he has to remember the worst days of his life, and that's bullshit. It's bullshit that Charles has had to "sit with it," to carry his own shit around, and for a moment Junpei feels a spike of annoyance. Does Charles not have all those friends around? Do they really dismiss him the same way Akane does? What the fuck—]
What? If you— yeah, uh, absolutely. Yes. [Actually that's a huge relief, to give any of this some kind of direction and not just throw things out into the air and hope someone catches them.] I mean, the last time I told anyone... my whole deal was back then, and the bastard mastermind interrupted. And then I got nothing but oh Junpei, you've changed, you're soooo different now, boohoo—
[Ahem. Simply put,] It'd help if you asked stuff, yeah.
no subject
but that's not the point here, at all — they're not talking about him, the focus here is junpei and his experiences, which... oh, hm, apparently charles' emotions aren't quite stable, yet, because that — the response that he'd got, back then — makes him grit his teeth in a fresh wave of anger. ]
What the hell? You — I mean, not like I knew you before we met here, but... you said you were a PI, yeah? [ with a quiet sigh, no less angry but understanding, too, ] Being a detective fucking sucks, sometimes. A lot of the time, actually, unless you've got ways to get through the stuff you see and hear.
[ at least he's already dead; that gives you something against it all, as does the knowledge that he's also dealing with already dead people. for junpei, it must've been even worse, and for him to have received no sympathy for it at all —
he pulls junpei to him, then, squeezing him close for a moment as he takes a few deep breaths, give him a second — ]
Right, [ he says, pulling back, looking at junpei, the anger replaced by something soft and quiet. ] Right, I'll ask. But if you don't wanna answer, then just say pass, yeah? And I'll ask something else.
no subject
He'd rather Charles not have to feel any of this, but he won't lie, it's comforting that he cares enough to get this up in arms about even one vague thing.]
It does suck. Don't really have any good ways, I guess, [ahem,] but I make sandwiches now, so...
[So, step one: get the fuck out of the worst profession, complete! Maybe they'll come back to that. He slides a hand up to Charles' hair, idly pushing it back into place from how wild it's gotten.]
Sure. Go for it.
no subject
and there's a host of thoughts flitting through his head, then — the lack of good ways, a quiet just how alone were you that he can't quite voice, the realisation that if, if they ever make it out of here with their memories intact, junpei's going to get pulled right back to detective work and that's a hypothetical and a problem for another day.
he tilts his head a little into the touch, an automatic movement, before he thinks for some more and finally says, ] This isn't really about, um, the bunker, but... how did you get through the PI thing?
[ so yeah, they're coming back to it right away, actually, now that it's been brought up; he can move on to the bunker next, he supposes. but this, too, is important. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
🎀