nysalogs | [Closed]

Shino's never been a clean person. Not one day in his life did he care about the state of his space or himself. Maybe he's more likely to keep a bit cleaner if he knows he's going 'out', but for the most part, it's a negligible thing to him.

He supposes he always knew Yamagi was a cleaner sort, despite always being elbow deep in grease. But this ... what he's walked into here... is absolute germ-killing madness. It's a total slaughter that's left the place reeking of chemicals that give him a spike of headache as he crosses through the entrance. He nearly stumbles back.

"W-woooah, what, Yamagi, you're really going at it, aren't you?"

Keeping a place of your own where you expect to know where you've left your own things--years of it--can wrestle anyone into forced, maintained state of tidiness.

And yet, years of minimum housekeeping doesn't prepare Yamagi for the fact he's keeping company with not one, but two teenagers.

"Going at it? This place is a dump, and I've lived in a dump for a couple of years. The whole place smelled like the Old Man left out to dry in the sun before I took the big guns to it."

As thankful as he is for getting to stay here for free, he's had to tackle the bathroom and he already feels like a saint for it.

What he pushes into Shino's arms could be mistaken for a receptacle of sort, something Yamagi's bleached within an inch of its life to be usable once more.

"You look like you're about to faint, but I still need you to bring in the laundry."

Oh, right.

"Please?" h this time, he remembers to pull down the rag mask to show a smile of goodwill and a proof the bleach hasn't entirely gotten into his brain.

"Mmm, I guess I never noticed it was that bad. We really didn't know any better back there, though, did we? Guess we finally have the time to keep things tidier," he responds, arms crossed as he nods his head like a wise sage conferring some important observations about their former reek.

Not that his reek isn't still a lingering reminder of their prior life. He hasn't caught up to the times yet. He's still pure of all their societal expectations as 'good citizens'.

He does have clean hands and arms to take that laundry, though. He takes up the receptacle in his broad hands and nods once, sure of his orders.

"Hahahaha, you don't need to ask twice. I'm on it!" he shouts back, grin wide as he hefts the makeshift laundry basket against his chest and heads out to start picking the clothes off the line like a good boy.

If Yamagi has any memory of how they've lived before Kudelia had swooped into their ives to bestow the gift of literacy and hygiene on them, these days are muddy through a time altered haze at best. Their unceremonious stumble into the life of careful independence, a rude awakening of their place in the world in its heels, has just informed him of how little of the "civilized" world they've actually experienced.

He watches Shino's broad back as he snatches the sheets (bleached within an inch of their lives) and the second hand clothes he's found after rummaging around, a painful pang of something that suspiciously feels like longing twisting in his chest.

"I was a custodian for a while," he contributes to the comfortable melody of the breeze whipping through their curtains and teasing their laundry, "before the Old Man had his factory set up and the rest of us employed for good. Old habits die hard, I guess."

Safe, anonymous work for invisible people.

"Whaaaat? Really?"

It's clear he doesn't believe someone like Yamagi would be stuck in custodial work, but he still has no idea of the extent of the fucked up mess that had followed his death. He's not sure he wants to know. This isn't the life he'd hoped to create for Yamagi and the others with his fighting, after all. It's not the life Orga had planned for any of them.

"Well, I'm glad you're doin' better work now. Your brain's too big to be doing grunt work like that..." he replies, watching the cloth pile into the makeshift laundry basket with a thoughtful face. "Ahh, but now we're here, huh? I'm sure there's gonna be some good work for a smart guy like you somewhere. Somethin' worth your time, y'know?"

An inward curse comes a heartbeat too late. Right before they'd launched themselves into space and right toward their last series of catastrophes, Tekkadan was rather thriving. Scuttling into hiding while waiting the mercy of Kudelia's well meaning philanthropy hasn't been on the map of their bleak destiny yet.

Shino wouldn't have know.

"I'm no Takaki, but I was pretty good at mopping floors!"

The mock indignation is soon followed by a hopeful smile. Their temporary jobs have never been a downgrade; just another step towards careful mobility. A careful lesson in humiliation and yet another path to survival.

Years of dogged work and eased reservations don't quite prepare him for hearing praise from Shino himself, long, long after his last words of encouragement. His hand reaches for the fall of hair that threatens to hide his bashful face, resisting the old habits that creeps back into his muscle memory, brushing his hair back in evident embarrassment. As if the sudden flush isn't telling enough.

"You're only saying that because you're you, always with a kind word for everyone."

He can't believe how he's missed this.

"I believe it. I mean, you can work some pretty complex machines and computers. No doubt you can work a mop!" he replies, a teasing tone in his voice as he lets out a short laugh. He can't think of too much that Yamagi wouldn't be good at doing. Fighting maybe, but it's better that he doesn't fight. Shino'd rather be the one fighting so he wouldn't have to do it.

He can spot the bashfulness washing over Yamagi's face and nearly sees him hide under those grown strands of hair. He brushes them back, though, and some little force on Shino is proud of him. He smiles warmly for him, face fond. He's grown so much while Shino was away. He's an adult now, standing on his own two feet. He's thankful.

"Ha? You think I'm just buttering you up? Aaah, that's such a shame. Even my honest lines aren't working on a mature Yamagi!"

Edited 2017-08-17 01:56 (UTC)

It's the cruelest thing, Yamagi knows, being equally kind to everyone around you. The very realization of that in his younger years had driven him to distraction with how unfair it was. It's taken him time and distance to figure he was the one being unfair in that one sided assumption.

It's not the time for his selfishness to rear its ugly head again.

"Oh really? Do you want them to work on me?"

He's not quite at the same level of easy confidence that shines out of Shino, but he watches the other-- the younger man now, as he pulls the laundry out for sorting, a faint smile gracing his lips.

I know you know how I feel seems too unfair an advantage for Yamagi, compounded most by five years of steeling his heart against loss. After all, this is all too new for at least one of them.

Edited 2017-08-18 00:13 (UTC)

Shino's face softens. He's been trying each day to not think about how far behind his is compared to the two of them. He's not like Mikazuki that can just accept things and move forward. He's always had hang ups based on his own failures and guilt. He isn't as strong as him no matter how hard he tries. When it comes to him and Yamagi, he knows their situation has changed drastically. Despite his effort, that moment where he'd finally opened the door to try and make more between them had been shut in his face with ire by the consequences of his fate. Now he's got to work again to ease that back open without knowing Yamagi the way he once had. It's not easy and it's making it hard to know what to say to him, sometimes. It's that closeness between him and Yamagi and between him and Eugene that had given him great confidence. That gap is a chasm in front of him now every time he has to open his mouth.

"Who could blame me if I did?"

He flashes his teeth and plays it cool, laughing just enough to jostle his broad shoulders.

"Don't get my hopes up like that!"

Yamagi tosses the balled up sheet he was about to unfurl at Shino, a huff of exasperation carries a thinly veiled fondness. That laughter is enough to make his heart swoop again, missing a beat and stumbling all the way down every time, always made him forget his own name for a moment.

It occasionally made him want to bite Shino's head off, too.

It's the closest thing he's come to baring his heart. Maybe this time, it's a level playing field.

Even if Yamagi's always loved Shino like he knew he was going to lose him.

Shino takes the sheet to the face, still grinning all the while. Getting his hopes up? He's being sincere, he thinks, but he'll let Yamagi think what he likes. If he can keep him smiling, for now, that's enough. That's one thing he knows he can do easily for anyone.

"Ah, Yamagi, where should I take these? The living area?"

"The bedroom. I need to make the beds and fit the sheets."

A part of him wonders if he's coming across as more put together than he really is. It's the same part that misses his one room apartment with its sparse furniture and cluttered floor.

Maybe, with time, that part will become his "fake life" once and for all, this place taking over at home.

He tosses the mop into the closet, ignoring the clink of buckets and duster as he shuts the door purposefully.

"Some of the things in the dry pile should fit you. We'll need to look presentable if we're gonna go find jobs."

"Alright, I'll help you out."

Has he ever made a bed? He can't recall. They'd been sleeping in cots and hammocks so long, he's not sure of the last time he really slept in a mattress before now. He was probably very small and still with his mother. He has to learn now. He has to do every little thing he can.

"Presentable, huh? Haha... never really went and found a job before. You and Eugene will have to give me a hand, okay?"

His grin's a little shaky. This is one of the 'normal' things Orga wanted for them, but he feels thrown into the deep end on all sides.

Somewhere, in one of his pockets, Yamagi has a fake ID where sports his most neutral expression next to a name he doesn't own and a birth date he doesn't recognize. The names never really stuck, and they started using their identification chips less and less ever since the launch of Nadi's factory, where no tongues stumbled over new names.

It never made him feel like an adult, only a clown.

"Great. Grab that end and flap the sheet once."

There's no helping the faint mold stains at the end of the fabric, the mildew itself scrubbed out. For all of Yamagi's overt dissatisfaction, something thumped in his chest, building up in patient, barely contained excitement.

He gets to share this freedom with Shino, this time. Real freedom.

"Who wouldn't want you? You're strong and hard working, and everyone likes you, Shino."

The sheet flies once before it's pulled taut against the fabric.

"You'll be hired in no time."

Another thing Shino's good at is following orders, especially when they're simple and coming out of family. He sets the makeshift basket down and takes up the end of the sheet, shaking it once as he's told in order to straighten it out. It's been a long time since he's done mundane things like doing laundry or cleaning. There'd just been no time for anything but business and training in the last legs of his life. It's... it's nice. It's too bad they're in a troublesome situation at the same time.

"Now who's talking who up?" he replies, grinning in a snidy way that's meant to tease. This is really a more confident Yamagi he's dealing with, isn't it? It's fun, dealing with a Yamagi that's broken out of his shell despite all odds. His little mechanic really is all grown up.

"I'll take your word for it, though!"

"I'm--I'm only telling the truth!"

Years of hardening his heart and keeping his head down have never really managed to drive an untouchable pocket of innocence out of Yamagi's core, a reaction all too instinctive rather than practiced. He's always been among the artless ones, heart on his sleeves and words stumbling on his tongue.

All the late night, alcohol fueled musings with strangers have never quite knocked that out of him, nor dimmed the pink quickly rising to his cheeks.

"Besides, you need to earn the money to take me out somehow."

Ends of sheets fitted and tucked, lip stuck between his teeth, Yamagi braces himself for a particular response.

Edited 2017-08-28 20:55 (UTC)

"Uh hhuuuuhh," he says, completely unconvinced as he continues to share a snidy grin at him. Yamagi doesn't realize the door he'd opened when Shino realized his feelings for him. Even if he's mindful and wants to give Yamagi the space and time he needs to take things into his own hands, he still can't help but feel playful with the excitement that had come with the revelation. It was a total impossibility come true in his eyes. He wants to enjoy Yamagi's feelings, even if he can't bring himself to force the man's hand in this matter.

"Haha, true, true! Aaah, it's be a pretty lousy night out if I didn't have the cash to treat you. Looks like I have something good to save up for, huh?"

There is the matter of food, their lodging's upkeep, and emergency funds but none of that is appropriate for an atmosphere where Yamagi can't help but smile shyly at the promise of a night out, his heart thumping in his chest rapidly at the thought. He can dampen the day by setting up a budget plan later.

They have the rest of their lives for that and it's more than he feels he deserves, a happiness he aches to wrestle down and keep close to his chest.

His fingers tucking the last corner on his end in, sheets fresh and taut against the mattress, he glances up at Shino after a job well done.

"Jump on the bed," he yelps at his own bossy tone before he stammers to explain, "I mean, bounce on the bed, try it. It's the best feeling in the world."

For the first two decades of their lives, none of them have had the luxury of sprawling out on an actual bed with warm, sun dried sheets. It's one small joy of many Yamagi's learned to savor in the past few years.

Lucky for them all, it's Yamagi's job to keep reality and responsibility in check. Shino's yet to live a life where he even had the chance to use his pay to live on his own. He hasn't even a clue about doing anything with it but hoard it or use it for fun things. At least, now, there are opportunities to learn that and so many other things.

For now, he's just thinking about what a real 'date' entails as he helspt finish sorting the bed out. He only hops back into the moment when Yamagi gives him a sudden command.

"Ah? You sure? Won't I get the fresh sheets dirty?"

"They're going to get dirty sooner or later. Come on."

Live a little lingers at the back of his throat and he swallows it down. He wishes he could afford himself the luxury of pretending Shino's never left--even if that's what Shino truly has experienced. He wishes for the nights of crying that have ended in a hoarse voice and a pounding headache to have been merely a bad dream.

He leans against the foot of the bed, arms outstretched on either side as he allows himself to flop backward, the mattress bouncing under his weight with a squeak that belies its age.

"Well, if you're not gonna scold me then, I'll help myself!"

He speaks with great confidence as he watches Yamagi fall back and follows him soon after, dropping down to sit first before falling back beside him in an effort not to bounce him up into the air. It really is a different feeling than being folded up into a hammock or hitting the taut, hard surface of a cot. So this was how people like Kudelia slept every day at home? It's been so long since he's laid on a bed like this.

"Aaahh, this is great! Y'know, we're in this big predicament, but in some ways, it still feels like we're being spoiled. It's weird, right?"

The cold sun peeling away at their skin already a distant memory, the dry wind and the carefully doled out comforts to those eking out a living on Mars. Things have rapidly changed in the wake of Tekkadan's star that has burnt out too soon. With the economical sanctions lifted, they lived on food that is better that what they've salvaged from the harsh environment and harsher streets in their childhoods.

The economical freedom has come with its muzzle, fake identities and eyes cast down, hands in pockets.

This is different.

"Our first night on this planet, Mikazuki and I built a fire. With actual wood."

Yamagi shifts to his side with a bounce, head a hand's span from Shino's face, "This could have been our life if we were born on Earth. But I know what you mean. I'm already spoiled to share this with you."

Shino keeps his eyes on the ceiling, imagining all the things he's bound to encounter here that he's never seen before. It's exciting here but, deep down, he's nervous. There's a lot he won't know that the others might have learned about. He's so far behind again.

"Mm, yeah. It really is. I think I'm the most spoiled of all... being here with you all again. Even if I've got a lot of catchin' up to do, there's still a lot I have to be happy about. There's a lot I need to do to make sure I don't waste any of this time."

This time, Yamagi's not coy about looking at the object of his affection, taking advantage of eyes trained upward to keep his on Shino. He's started to forget bits and pieces of what's made his face over the past five years, his image blurred by time, much to his dismay. This time, he drinks everything in all over again.

Shino's regrets isn't something he's given much thought of, dwelling all too long on the young life cut short. They've all deserved better, straggling flowers erupting stubbornly from the soil, even if it's been hammered to them that wanting is just another grand hubris of needing.

He doesn't think of what Shino must have regretted in his last few moments. He can't do that and stay sane, in any case.

Yamagi, for his part, has had a lifetime of regrets.

"Remember how you used to make me keep count of your sit ups?"

Perched at Shino's feet, eyes trained on his tablet, stealing glances whenever he thought Shino wasn't looking.

Shino cracks a grin and stretches his arms above him before letting them drop against his stomach. It's almost hard to remember the small moments before things got too hectic for them to manage. The days blur together in mundanity, bathed in days he wishes they could return to and embrace. They had so much more than they realized, didn't they? Those moments where they had true quiet felt more important to him now than anything he'd sought and failed to accomplish. He wants to grasp those days in his hands again.

"Mm, I do. You always did it, too. I figured you'd complain eventually, but you helped me out every time, didn't you?"

"It's because I could never say no to you,"

Not to the puppy eyes pleading with him in all sincerity and not to the desperate gaze as he asks him to bind his shattered arm to the controls. Not to the suicide mission that would change everything.

For the better part of Shino's absence, he's wondered every night what he could he have salvaged if he'd only said no. His brain is no more merciful about it, reliving the moment in nightmares where the protests of an all too knowledgeable Yamagi die in his throat.

"You know why that is, Shino. Don't you?"

It's not as if Yamagi's ever had to say to the word love, itself.

He half expects the question, but he still feels his stomach cramp when he asks it. He lets out a short laugh and feels his grin slide into an easy smile as he answers, fingers curling against his shirt. It was a lot easier to talk about this with Eugene than it was to talk about with the culprit directly. Yamagi, after all, was so scary he made the enemy look like nothing. He represented so many unknowns that Shino felt true terror sometimes if he thought too much about him. It wasn't dislike or disgust. Much more, it was a pure form of utter fear that came with the thought that he might have a fragile chance at personal happiness.

"Ahhh, Eugene spilled it to you, didn't he? ... Good, I was kinda hoping he did when we all met here."

Against all common sense of divulging that bit of information at the exact time Eugene had, it was exactly what Yamagi had needed to hear, at the right time.

It has never stopped him beating himself up for the time he's wasted pining instead of acting.

Moreover...

"You knew about my feelings all this time," he reaches one handedly for one of the pillows beside the bed, stretching to grab it by the freshly washed cover, "And you never told me. Jerk."

The pillow swings in a perfect arc before it smacks Shino solidly in the face.

He's seventeen again, all indignation and cheeks flashing warm, only the heat dissipates all too quickly, fury and impulsiveness having simmered down and faded over the years. His tone holds none of the heat nor indignation, just exasperated fondness.

Not that he could have stayed mad at Shino for long either time.

Shino takes the hit with a short bout of laughter, a little more honest than how it had sounded before. He really deserves more. A lot more. He knows it. As far as he sees, he's done nothing but wrong Yamagi this whole time. Maybe he's just made all the wrong decisions along the way. He has no proof otherwise.

"Hahaha, sorry, sorry. I just... y'know, I didn't want to force you. They were your feelings. I figured 'If he wants me to know, he'll tell me when he's ready'. I kept tryin' to give you openings, but..." he sighs out a breath full of nerves, "I-- ah, I -- maybe I was scared about what would happen if I brought it up, too."

He might as well be honest.

The pillow is tossed down against Shino's torso with finality for emphasis as Yamagi puffs out an exasperated breath. It's true; there may have been all sort of openings he'd been too cowed or proud to take advantage of. Shino isn't wrong in that regard.

The friendly hugs and the hair mussed into a mop one time too many. All this time, he's assumed Shino was being his goofy, unassuming self. Yamagi for his part has expected too much, too soon with little effort on his own.

"I was stupid."

He sinks onto the bed, one palm planted on either side of Shino on the not too firm bed. That's certainly why his arms are trembling.

"I wanted to earn your affection. I wanted you to like me on your own."

He was too proud to pursue and he's paying for it with a lifetime of regrets.

Shino accepts the sound little beating he gets from the fluffed pillow as a short punishment for his own trespasses. He wonders if time has made all those thoughts and feelings flush out of him until now or if they've just been pent up somewhere quiet in him.

Then the pillow finds its final resting spot against his chest and he finds himself staring up at Yamagi instead of the ceiling, eyebrows raised. It's bolder than he'd have expected from the closed in boy he remembers. There's a lot of new things he has to learn about his family now, isn't there? He has to get used to the idea that, until now, for them, he's been nothing but a memory for years.

"That's not stupid. Isn't that how it's supposed to work? Mm, I don't know a lot about it, though. Still, it's not bad to want that... and I was just as stupid, anyway, wasn't I? I could've done a lot more for you, knowing what I knew."

They were children. Yamagi's eyes widen only with the realization he only comes to confront at its fullest implications just then. Children thrust into a harsh, unforgiving world that's handled their young bodies as abrasively as it's done their feelings. He's loved Shino with the honest rawness of a child, shielding his heart helplessly against bruising.

Something's never ceased budding in his heart but he wonders if he loves him as with the pure force of a child still.

"I've missed your laughter the most," he pulls the pillow away, its cover retaining the mere remnants of Shino's body warmth. Living, human warmth, "I could never get mad at you when you laughed whatever you'd done off."

Shino could have done more, and yet, Yamagi for his part, could have carried his own weight. Young love comes with its own brand of selfishness.

Two indentations form under the weight of Yamagi's hands as he sinks down, hovering low enough to press a chaste kiss on Shino's lips.

"I should have sent you off with that back then," he wills spots of color to fade from his cheeks, "For good luck."

The way Yamagi talks, it almost feels like he's been away on some strange vacation. He barely remembers his last moments in space. He knows the raw and tearing desperation and despair that had drowned him after pulling the trigger, but as for what had happened to him and to everyone, he can't recall any of it. It's probably some mechanism in him keeping him safe from the truth of the heavy guilt he's suffering. He knows he fucked up. He knows he's gone. Beyond that, it's weird and ephemeral, just like he feels being in this place. Looking at the sharpened features of Yamagi's aged face this closely reminds him of it.

"I knew I was hauling too much on you sometimes. I kinda hoped, even if you were annoyed, that you'd forgive me soon enough. Even now, I'm probably still gonna do stuff that'll piss you off."

It's not like he grew up. In fact, he feels like he's taken steps backward.

He doesn't expect the kiss. A part of him figured Yamagi had moved on and was speaking out of regret for not saying anything before. A part of him hoped he had left him in the past. He was a disappointment. He wasn't worth his lingering feelings.

He feels his stomach ache in a way he doesn't understand. He smiles up at him, but it's coated with a weariness he hasn't shown yet since they arrived here.

"I was happier that you scolded me. There was no point in wasting that luck on me."

"What are you talking about?" he lifts himself off Shino, long legs sliding off him to dangle off the side of the bed. The hours of work seem to be catching up to him, even if it's nothing compared to his usual schedule at the factory. It takes him longer to spring back into action now, and all nighters are harder to battle through.

"You're the only reason the rest of us made it out alive."

As much as torment had eaten at Yamagi for days at end for letting Shino go to his death. As hard as he'd cried himself to sleep when the dusts had settled, voice gone the next morning.

As much as he'd wished they had died together, the rest be damned.

"It took a lot out of me not to fight you on what you've set your mind to do. Don't cheapen what the two of us have done."

His fingers twitch and flex against the sheets, loosened and wrinkled somewhat by their weight. He'd only spied Shino cry in secret before, strength unraveling into vulnerable exhaustion.

"But if scolding's what you're looking for, luckily I've always years of practice."

Shino follows him halfway up, stopping to prop himself on his elbows. He looks at Yamagi, realizing he might have misspoken. It's hard to hold in his doubts. They're all so nice to him, to the point where he can tell they're holding back for his sake. He's happy to be treated kindly by them all but... he's been doubtful about himself for so long now.

"... Really? But, you all had to keep fighting anyway. I wanted... I wanted to stop it, y'know?"

He huffs but he keeps his smile. Is he just talking shit here? Did they really think he did so much more? Maybe his perspective is just bad, but... damn it, his plan had felt so foolproof. Maybe he'd just been too cocky under the effect of all that adrenaline.

"I--... Sorry, Yamagi," he replies, shrinking a little, feeling bad about what he'd said. He looks away and smiles uneasily for a long, quiet moment. "Yeah. I mean, if you're scolding me, I know it's still you. And that I'm really here. That sounds stupid, right? But it's true."

He flops onto his back again and shuts his eyes, taking in another long breath. He stretches his hand to try and brush his fingers over Yamagi's wrist.

"I dunno what Eugene told you, but... when I learned how you felt about me, it made me... it made me really happy. I was really glad to know that someone could love me. All of us are idiots. We don't think anything about ourselves, so it seemed really impossible and it took a long time for me to believe it. To think I wasn't just making it up in my head. When I got over myself and I realized it was true, it encouraged me a lot... when I asked you out that day-- I want you to know, it wasn't just to comfort you or something. I honestly meant it. Even if I ran out head first, I promise... even though I'm a stupid man, doing what I did, I really did want to come back to you."

In all the time they've known one another, this must be their very first heart to heart.

Yamagi's always existed on the periphery of Shino's fire. They've talked and he's been talked at by virtue of being Shino's companion and very own mechanic. To say Yamagi's divulged his own brand of stream consciousness in any capacity beyond the professional would be reaching.

He's never experienced Shino's more vulnerable words without intruding inadvertently on his privacy.

This time, he doesn't flinch when fingertips alight on his hand. Yamagi twists his so Shino's fingers rest on his palm.

There's no telling Shino of the night he's spent away from the others at the stone carved memorial that marks no grave. There are nights when drinks and weakness string the blackness out of Yamagi's dark thoughts, swarming around what he's seen as foolhardy selfishness. When had Shino asked him how he'd felt about being left behind, made to witness his suicide mission?

How could he?

The words wash over his parched grief, and yet, a warmth builds up in him, curling in Yamagi's chest, tendrils choking the air out of his throat. His head dips as he hears the confession, a truth veiled to him by death and sorrow and it strikes him as cruelly unfair of their circumstances.

His happiness doesn't account for the silent tears that drip off his chin to splash on the back of Shino's hand, cupped in his.

Making him cry is inevitable, isn't it? A certain feeling of guilt pangs in Shino's throat and he has to swallow it to keep breathing. He'd hurt him that day. Shino knew it all along, but he's realizing more and more the depth that he'd hurt the two most important people in his life. He's not used to making people cry, but he keeps doing it to Yamagi. He's not sure how to stop. He's not used to someone caring about him so honestly.

He tightens his hand around Yamagi's, fingers firm but not squeezing too hard, trying to anchor him with some silent assurance. As much as his chest is tightening, he can't cry too. He continues to keep as much of his weakness concealed to the quiet nights when he can't sleep. He wants to be cool and strong now. It's all he can think to do for him.

Shino lets out a shaky sigh and turns his head away from him, eyes still shut. He curls his thumb and rubs it against the back of Yamagi's palm as warm tears continue to hit his hand.

"I'm sorry."

His brow is punched with the effort of curbing further tears, his unoccupied hand quickly wiping at those gathering anew at the corners of his eyes.

"I forgive you, Shino."

I've forgiven you remains hidden in his heart. Yamagi's had years to forgive and years to work through treacherous thoughts of betrayal. If Shino had only loved him, perhaps he wouldn't have rushed to his death like that. He's had months to to understand Shino's heart after the fact, wisdom overtaking grief with time.

"After all, I could never stay mad at you, remember?"

His fingers curl back around Shino's, hand smaller without the ever present gloves.

"I-- I'm just happy you're here. It's all I ever wanted."

His hand is shaking subtly against Yamagi's hand. Forgiveness. It's given, but is it deserved? Shouldn't he earn it? Or maybe being a memory before had made it easy to forgive him as he's faded out of Yamagi's mind. The distance between them now feels like a lifetime with how young they all expected to die. Yamagi and Eugene might as well be in their senior years when he looks at how short the rest of their timelines have been cut. Maybe it just makes it easier, safer, to forgive. He's never had to worry about forgiving other people before. He can't imagine what it's like to forgive a grievance that seems so big to him.

"Ha, that's right. You're not really the lyin' type, so I guess I can believe it."

He finally looks his way again and forces a smile.

"I'm happy I'm here. I've got a lot of work to do. Can't do it if I'm just suckin' up dirt in the ground, yea?"

"Right? I'm not giving up on that date, either."

He's tried so hard to live a life Shino would be proud of, and grow into the young man Shino would have approved of. None of them have been supposed to make it this far. Yamagi's managed with teeth and claws and stubborn tears.

You're the toughest out of all of us is something he's heard and shrugged and laughed off more than once.

He's had to survive.

But living his life for the sake of Shino's short one isn't enough anymore. Perhaps it's never been enough. Shino's larger hand shakes in his and it reminds Yamagi that despite his idolization of the one person whose shadow he's chased for years, he's the adult now.

Shino needs him in a more tangible way.

Even with years and added bulk to his slender frame, Shino's weight is considerable against his own. He pulls him close with what upper body strength he has, folding his body into the tightest hug he can manage, propped half sitting as they are.

"Good to hear."

It's a little string of hope he's held onto since he woke up here and found Yamagi.

He doesn't expect Yamagi to heft him up from his spot on the bed. He's still a skinny little thing, even with his figure filled out. He helps to push himself up with his elbow and accepts his place against him. His arm slides around his back and he holds him tight, silent for once in his life. It feels good, getting held and pushed back together with such honesty. He lets out a long breath and tucks his nose against Yamagi's hair, staying put.

Takaki had once tried explaining to him what a mother's hug felt like. Yamagi hardly remembers his mother, let alone being hugged by her. He's smiled politely at the time, mellowed by drink on a warm evening, abstract concept dancing around in his head without solidifying into actual ideas.

It's not his intention to be maternal in general, but he suddenly imagines this is what it feels like, to offer unconditional comfort and safety without asking for anything in return.

He's undemanding all but for the fingers sinking into Shino's shirt for purchase than anything else. At some point, he's wanted to be Shino's equal rather than chase his shadow. For now, all he can do is stroke the same spot on his back in comforting circles.

And count the heartbeats against his own chest until they thud in time with his own.

It's been a long, long time since he's been held like this. The last person... maybe Eugene? Maybe when they were small and not rough at the edges yet. He can't quite count the years. He's always more the holder than the one held. The role reversal feels uncomfortable and strange, but Yamagi is warm and he feels a lot steadier than he ever felt before when Shino'd had to cradle him in his arms for safety.

His breath releases and he relaxes against him, his fingers at Yamagi's back, mirroring the other's hand and holding onto him by the fabric of his shirt. He stays quiet, breathing him in and swallowing down his delicate pride to let Yamagi take the time to comfort him. He's afraid to speak and break the moment. It feels too precarious and he knows how important this is for the both of them. It's the first step towards breaching a lot of things they're both afraid to dip into.

He doesn't think he's a very bright man, but he can read a moment well when he wants to. He knows they need this a little more than they'd ever admit.

Yamagi has never been for physical intimacy.

He's loosened up since his younger days, the flinching and the tension all but a thing of the past, but it's not something for him to initiate with ease. And yet, he holds on as if for dear life.

He's never embraced Shino before. Not as friends and not as family in any capacity. He'd held Eco like this in the wake of Lafter's death, hands molding her body against his as if he could absorb all of her anguish.

It's not unlike this, now.

But he doesn't fully comprehend the severity of Shino's trauma, coming back from the hold of death and harshly expelled into the land of the living. Other people's deaths he'd made his peace with like an old, inconvenient friend.

He can't imagine seeing the sky bleeding its fury above them that fateful day, explosions ringing in his ears for hours afterward compares to Shino's vision of hell.

"Everything is going to be better from now on," he promises boldly, their heads so close that Shino's close cropped hair tickles his cheek, "So trust me."

He knows he can bank on those words. Yamagi has never let him down. Shino's simple like that. It doesn't take much to convince him when the person speaking is someone he trusts already. And... he wants things to be okay. Even if he feels like he might have to rebuild everything he knew as 'life', he wants to believe that things might be okay.

It's just a matter of getting passed all the pain that's soaked into his body and poisoned him with quiet fears and cold sweats.

His broad arms squeeze Yamagi with care, trying to mind himself and hold instead of clutch the way his body wants to. He wishes he were as seemingly invulnerable as the other guys in Tekka. He always has to put in effort to put up his barriers.

"I trust you, Yamagi. I trusted you before, and I trust you now, so... everything's gonna be better. Yeah."

The screeching isn't the most welcome sound, but Eugene isn't one to interrupt Yamagi's strange methods of securing his peace — not that it will stop him from being a bit grumpy about it. He's been accused of having a bit of a soft spot for Yamagi by the remaining survivors before, and his answer to that is always the same: who doesn't have one for him? But time has it that strength replaces fragility in him, coexists with it, enmeshes, and he's felt more comfort in aiming some of that serrated edge the mechanic's way. It's not like they haven't had their blowouts and makeups.

"You'd rather listen to that than the ruckus outside?" He questions behind Yamagi, softly unfolding his arms as he contemplates joining his side. Nobody here could really understand him like Yamagi does, not at this moment, but he doesn't want to put any of that on him. None of the heavier thoughts he's having or the rising doubts and reluctance to embrace this reality or get comfortable in it.

He wants to see if there's a difference to the smiles Yamagi gives now and then, or if he'd ever only imagined it, so he'll watch everything closely.

"If it's supposed to be calming, the loud screeches and static in between kind of defeat the purpose."

Edited 2017-08-21 12:54 (UTC)

"Well, excuse me it's not jazz." Yamagi doesn't need to look over his shoulder to convey how his eyes roll at that particular statement. He thumps his foot once against the rug in turn to the faint drumming that cushions the chorus.

"Besides, if you listen closely, it almost sounds like enka."

He's never been privy himself to the quaintly curated past times of the Teiwaz members whenever they lavished their carefully timed attention on the older members of Tekkadan. He's heard enough of rice wine sipped from tapered cups in esoteric gardens where men watched cherry blossoms, of all things. But the music, what little shared with him by the Turbine girls whose company he's vastly preferred, has always touched something he could never put in words.

He snaps the strip of fabric between his hands once before rolling it back over two fingers. It keeps him from tinkering with the radio one more time, stills the tremor that only accompanies his most nervous moments when the music does very little for that.

"It's not like my singing voice is any better, but I can make that sacrifice."

Enka. A word he only knows because of Yamagi anyway, and yet he still racks his brain to place it, frowning as his eyes wander up to the ceiling of the room. He thinks twice on complimenting what he's heard of his busy humming while working at Kassapa, which was really quite pleasant, and buries the remark in a careful, cautious glance over at Yamagi instead. He watches what he can of his expression, but when he's lost in work he's at his most difficult to read.

"Well, I guess it's better than nothing." Eugene admits as if it's like pulling teeth, having not quite perfected the art of "staying positive" in every day situations. Functional, yes, and realistic, but not quite positive. He's never without his complaints.

"Hey, Yamagi," he decides to start with reluctance, moving in a bit closer to disguise his surveying gaze as a piqued curiosity with the radio. "Does all of this feel real to you yet?"

Every once in a while, fragments of conversations interrupts a strained melody, sufficiently performative without being outright educational. Yamagi keeps more than an ear open for whatever that can be interpreted as a news segment, any window through which to structure his unclear image of this particular world. Listening to the news before has always come across as a dreadful chore, a necessary evil none of them really wished to sit through and yet never quite helped but to submit to in attentive resignation. Their next name change and midnight relocations have depended on it.

There's hasn't been a single snippet of news through the antiquated radio in his entire hour of dutifully messing with the dials.

"Real? As real as you and me, I guess." They are alive and kicking, aren't they? Among other things and people...

He breaks a distrustful glare at the device to cast a less than sure look over his shoulder, blue eyes flickering with uncertainty for the first time, if not naked mistrust. The linen and cupboards weren't the only thing he checked for cleanliness.

"Normal on the other hand, none of this is normal. You don't move this many people around with little mishaps this normally. Something's fishy is going on and this time..."

This time they have no leverage at all.

"It's not as simple as a coup and I'm not sure why we're here at all."

His brain has always been too fast for his tongue to put coherent thoughts into words, but he can't imagine the words being useful now, even if Eugene's learned to interpret them on his behalf by now.

[Closed]

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