mordechai | 001. open post // quiet little burials.

[And when no response comes to that, you're getting a lifted eyebrow, and a glance that lasts about fifteen seconds.]

Well? Pretty sure you came around to talk.

[So talk.]

[ And because that actually finally feels like permission, and because there's no other answer really: ]

I fucked up.

[ He was dumb and an idiot and he needed to walk off the awful feeling in his gut and he'd told his blade he'd needed to go London and nothing worked out the way he'd thought it would.

No one needs to tell him he's been stupid. He knows that well enough. ]

You did.

[Shooting straight as always, Mr. Mordechai.]

Now what you fucked up exactly is up to question.

[People tend to run around in circles, after all. Don't even make him go into how people tend to make issues where there aren't any, and then not actually care when a real issue comes up.]

[ Give him a moment, sir.

This one's been running those circles enough and in the manner of that particular animal that kind of stuck as a nickname where it concerns him and the rest of his team -- you can only chase your own tail for so long before you're all tired out. ]

I hurt him.

[ He's sorry. It's written all over his face, in the way his shoulders are curved in. He's really, really sorry about being dumb and immature and acting like a teenager when he should be so much better than this. ]

I reacted badly to news that should have been good -- news that is good.

[ Honesty Hour sucks. Self-pity bites.

He really should be so much better than this.

That's him fishing for his cigarettes now, and coming up with a pack made up of two measly sticks because he spent a good portion of his time at King's Rest going through his stash. ]

[You're going to look up to Alistair already sitting back against the wall instead of looking off past the estate grounds, holding his pack out in your direction.

Yes, he and Hikaru smoke the same brand.]

Have you figured out why yet?

[In this case, that is kind of important.]

[ Turning his gaze back to the unlit stick in his hand.

Shoot straight, right? ]

Part of it.

[ Because it's taken him some time to think over that it is and at the same time it isn't about the man standing a little away from him. Because this goes further back than Kaz coming back from the dead, to watching that goddamn clock above the Blade King's head. ]

That's as good a start as any.

[In Alistair's many centuries of experience, no one - even the "omnipotent" ones - ever get the entirety of it until they really start thinking about it. And talking.]

So...?

[He'll need something to work on, you know.]

[ And there'll be a bit of silence from Josh's end as he tries to light up that cigarette. It doesn't take, his lighter's not cooperating tonight -- and it's not even that it's the wind, because it's not that windy out. He just can't get the flint to work--

--okay there.

A long, shaky drag. ]

Pardon my saying so sir: it wasn't even about you.

[ Yes. Yes, he will admit that his thoughts turned there. His thoughts turned to Day One in the Great Hall and the way Hikaru and Alistair Mordechai just fit, but he'd thought of that along the lines of "this is a good thing, here's someone who won't die on him, who won't leave him alone in the long run." And as much as it had comforted him, it had hurt.

Like hell. Like dying all over again.

Quietly now: ] Not like... not like that.

Edited 2014-04-15 07:41 (UTC)

And I'm not going to apologize for saying that if it had been about us and us being "that way", that would have been easier to deal with.

[It's an easy admission to make. He can also guess, now, at the possibilities of what this is really about pretty easily.

Still, it has to come from Josh. Doesn't it?]

Anyway. Go on.

[ And what you'll get, Mr. Mordechai, is a genuinely surprised look on the Sin-Eater's face. That is also a clear indicator of his regard for you -- that he had been ready for the criticism, had been prepared to be sat down and told exactly that he was acting like a child.

This is throwing him a little, but you have also been incredibly kind in ways that others might often miss. Because kindness is often a choice and to this one, you never had to, but you were and that had perhaps, been the reason why he'd never come to you. Because with those words on this same wall, you'd told him it was okay -- even if he hadn't realized it at the time.

The next words are even softer than the last, mostly because he feels like his throat is seizing up and what he has to say has to crawl past that. ]

I wanted more time.

I walked into this knowing I had so little and I didn't care about that. One life was enough -- it still is. I know it is.

[ Is it though? In his heart he knows that it is -- dying once and coming back was more than enough. Asking for otherwise was reckless and juvenile and disrespectful. ]

Yet you don't feel like it is, and that wasn't always the case. Right?

[LaRue used to be such a grounded person. Now something was shaking at those very foundations, fucking him up completely.]

So what changed?

[ What changed? That was it, wasn't it? What had changed?

He knows. He likely already knew, but it had hit him like a ton of bricks anyway, the moment he'd watched Hikaru sink to the ground at the realization that maybe the universe was catching up, that it was welcoming him back into the grand scheme of things. After all, Mica Torillo-Young had been right: How could that one not be part of the karmic cycle if everyone who breathed in their first and exhaled their last on the face of this world would all inevitably find their way to Him?

Reflecting on it now, he knows when the cracks had given way.

That hand, reaching for his and holding on. That look in a face that was so young, a direct contrast to the age in the eyes that Josh would gladly look into for the rest of his life.

He can't say it. He doesn't want to yet, because it frightens him down to the very last fibre of his being how he is just so gone on that one. So gone that it does, legitimately hurt to know that there will never be enough time in his short, ember of a life.

And it shows: in the way he ducks his head, in the motion of his knees which he refuses to draw up towards his chest because his heart hurts so badly.

It should be enough. In some way, it is. Just this one life. Just one that they could make the most of, for better or for worse.

But it also isn't -- and isn't he allowed a moment or two, or several days to hurt over that?

( Mom...? How did you know? When you knew that Dad was It for you?
It was that smile of his. I just thought to myself that I would be happy to see it for the rest of my life. ) ]

[He watches the boy for a good long time before he goes back to his cigarette. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and even, and not without a good amount of sympathy.]

It doesn't have to be about how much time you have, especially in a world where shit rarely ever works out. Why not make it about what you end up doing with what you have?

[It only sounds simple: he knows this. But practice makes perfect, correct?]

[ There's a choked laugh that escapes him -- sad and heavy and realistic. ]

My dad said that.

[ And he'd believed it then. He knows he still believes that now.

But it's hard. Wanting things was a human thing, wasn't it? Isn't that why people got up each and every day? ]

And living it takes practice. You'll never get it right: you can only come as close as you possibly can, as often as you possibly can.

[He's speaking from experience here. He looks like he has it together, but expectations rarely ever match the reality of a situation.]

You're allowed to fuck up, LaRue. [No more 'kid' now.] Everyone is. And you're allowed to hurt, and fuck up more because you're hurting.

[ ...

Yeah. He's just... going to break down now. ]

[And in that moment, he's uncomfortably reminded of several instances in the past, ones that involved days that were too damned short and nights that were too damned long, with a table meant for more but only had three chairs occupied and an unhealthy amount of alcohol. It was always him and Aidan Clayce; Riley was the occasional, pleasant surprise. And it was always about talking. The talking, and the hurting, and the wondering why your good, even as it exceeded everyone else's "good", just wasn't good enough.

He turns his eyes away from Josh not because this disgusts him, but because he respects the boy enough to give him time to fall apart without the indignity of having a captive audience. Brennan Pride, right? He knows the type. Mordechais like him and Maes are the same.

So he'll go back to his cigarette and wait, with every other aspect of himself tuned to being there, and being ready to listen.]

[ It takes him a good five minutes -- but no more after that, because he's been crying too damn much, too damn often and he is so fucking tired. Of everything.

He's still shaky, but this needs to stop. He doesn't want to feel like his chest is so tight, that his shoulders are so heavy because he can't bring himself to stand straight, because it feels too much like before, too much like when his body had become his enemy. ]

It's funny, [ this is a segue -- because he needs it; please let him have it. ]

I feel like I'm in that goddamned wheelchair all over again and that feeling doesn't make any sense. Because my family is okay-- [ Hikaru had made sure of that ] --earning Fifth Circle feels so much better than ever making Pro [ and he'd done that on his own steam, he had ] and...

And...

[ Flashing back to the first time he'd ever kissed Hikaru, remembering how it had felt so good to see that shock and surprise on the Blade King's face and -- Mitsuru interrupting them aside -- the way that one had felt in his arms, and the morning after, when he'd woken up with Hikaru curled up right beside him. ]

And you didn't miss out.

[On something good. On him.

There's the rub, isn't it? You get everything that you wanted, and impossible things became possible. You realize just how far your devotion goes for the things that matter to you now, and the few people - or the person - you care about.

Then you worry. Then you wonder. Then you get scared.]

[ Those tears are welling up again, blurring the world in front of him.

The next words that come out are whispered, because his heart hurts so much and he can admit ( and it is also written all over his face ) that he feels so terribly, terribly young, and utterly, wholly lost -- even if he wants so badly to keep it together.

He just wants to make things right between him and Hikaru again. He wants to stop messing up. ]

I love him. [ Take a breath, Josh. Take two or more if you need. ] A lot.

[ He hangs his head. ] I love him so much.

Edited 2014-04-15 18:50 (UTC)

[This one's quiet for a good five minutes. It won't let you recover completely, but maybe it's a start.]

You want to make this work, right?

[Yes, maybe it's a rhetorical question. Work with him here, all right?]

Yes.

[ That answer comes without hesitation.

He's also finally looking up, and while he still feels wrecked, and while he might not realize it yet, the familiar steadiness is back in the set of those shoulders and the look in those eyes.

Not a quitter, this one. Never that. ]

Good.

[There's the Joshua LaRue that he's familiar with. Good to have you back, kid.

Taking a drag from his cigarette now.]

He's trying to make this work too, you know. On his end, I think that mostly involves turning that damned brain of his off, meeting you as best as he can at your level, and taking things as they come.

[One step at a time, right? Instead of ten steps too far, or ten steps back.]

[ --Wait, what??

Yeah, that is a look of confusion when the rest of that statement finally sinks in. ]

But-- [ lips pressing together eventually because if he gapes anymore he'll likely resemble a fish.

Quietly now though, as his gaze falls helplessly to his hands. ]

But... I just meant... not to think further than tomorrow. Not to worry about a year from now or more. [ And much further, because that would just depress them both. ]

I never had any issue with him being ridiculously clever.

[ It had, after all, become Their Thing. Hikaru being just as he was -- brilliant, cuttingly so, and Josh trying to catch up, even if the chances of that were nill. The club runs, that talk after the Sin-Eater's little crisis over Rethe, the few moments he'd had to listen to the Blade King be a university professor. ]

Yeah, well... call it him choosing to totally and completely believe in you, especially since he's not exactly inclined to believe wholeheartedly in himself when it comes to being in a relationship with somebody.

[There's a rueful note in his voice, and an equally rueful twist to his smile.]

He's never been good at moderation. That should be obvious enough to you.

[And the Blade King choosing to believe in someone that strongly was as good a measure of his love and respect for that person as any, in Alistair's opinion.

There's another aspect to it as well, but he'll get around to that part soon enough.]

Edited 2014-04-15 21:04 (UTC)

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