blowfish | IC CONTACT

How you found him doesn't have anything to do with you. That's—

[abuse, this is abuse. it's all he can think, with an unfaltering look at jesse as the boy (it's how he looks now, he looks younger; hurt) frets over memories.

to think wilson would call himself a friend after making jesse wait a month and find him only to be subjected to something horrible, to actually have the gall to return and not beg forgiveness immediately. instead of working hard for the sake of the people who missed him, he stands at a window and broods, he just fucking lets them wait on him. un-fucking-believable.

hiruma has to look away, jaw tightening to keep that voice from raising.]

This is about betrayal, alright? People conveniently forgetting to mention that they're fucking bailing in a place where you can disappear and die every other goddamn day doesn't exactly merit TLC.

[He grows quiet listening to Hiruma. Jesse wants to defend Wade, as someone who personally knows what it's like to be so fucked up that you end up disappointing and hurting every damn person around you.

The thing of it is, he knows that sort of thing doesn't deserve it. He knows it intimately. As much as he loves him, defending Wade against the indefensible is a tough job. Still, he tries.]

He lost a group of people before he went on this bad trip. Two a' them were kids. Practically his kids.

[Clementine. It hurt Jesse to lose her, too. Each and every time it happens it's like a wound freshly reopened.]

Just cut him some slack. He ain't usually like this.

Edited 2015-03-13 17:53 (UTC)

Yet he laughs in my fucking face when I approach him about you.

[about the people he left behind.

wade loved jessica and clementine, too—where does that leave jesse? zantanna? geiszler? all of them?]

What the hell does that make you, huh, chopped liver? Funny, I should be the one laughing, 'cause you look more like a human being to me.

Being a team isn't a free fucking ride. He doesn't get to ignore the ones who are still alive, and run away to rot for a month feelin' all sorry for himself, blubbering "oh, woe is fucking me." You lost people too; he's not the only one who gets to mourn. I watched you do it every single day, but you still stick around—and why?

[pointing to himself, now, hiruma jabs at his chest with a finger.]

Don't you tell me to cut him slack, when we're doing what he should've been doing this whole time.

[it's not meant to guilt, no. the intention was to show jesse a perspective he's ignoring, how friendship is supposed to work, why this isn't kosher. he isn't going to stand by and watch while his comrade is being put through the damn ringer by someone whose idea of caring for others is making them suffer along with them.

"love", what an unnecessary word that breaks people down into tools others can use freely.]

Tch...

[ducking his head with nowhere to really go, hiruma wills himself to keep a level head. harder than it looks to do, when friends are the only thing he has.]

[He laughs in my fucking face--

Hiruma actually approached Wade about this? Really? There's a funny little feeling in his chest, mulling that over to start with. He scratches at his jaw, which turns into rubbing at the side of his neck with undue pressure. Jesse stares at the ground as Hiruma goes on ranting. Each word hits him like a series of sucker-punches. He'd heard Wade's side, which makes this a little easier to take-- he knows him better than most of the people who are still left in Haven.

Wade didn't want to hurt him, or any of them. He does care about them. That isn't Hiruma's point, and so pointing that out is useless. Trying to get the right words out to keep arguing for him is making his throat tight. His hand passes over his eyes to rub away the water gathering there.]

What am I supposed to do?

[And his hand drops away with a helpless gesture, a tired sigh following his question.]

I can't leave him alone. I gotta stick around, no matter what that means. He's-- he's in a bad place, man. He needs me. He's--

[Wade is far too important to him. Jesse loses steam and rubs at his forehead while he trails off, slumping. All the exhaustion of the past month returns with a vengeance.]

[hiruma shakes his head, stepping further into the room, abandoning his post by the door.]

That's not it.

[now it's a real conversation, when he's an arm away and he can see every little detail of jesse's face in the low light. because he's listening intently to every word (what am i supposed to do?), it'll sink in and stay with him if he has an expression to pair with the words this person obviously cares a great deal about. this wasn't his business, but seeing how upset his friend is automatically makes it his business.

his worked up voice drops low, grating and raw. hiruma convinces himself to undertone most of this for jesse's sake, so the rest of the damn block can't hear this. but while he's well aware of the precarious state this whole situation's brought on, there's no sign of relent. if wade needs jesse, then surely—]

You didn't expect me to check on this bullshit, after all you've shared this past month?

[a statement, more than a question.]

If Wilson needs you so badly, then why the hell are you letting him treat you like a spare fucking tire? Like you're a delicate flower who needs to be protected from him until he's ready for ass-pats? That's textbook disrespect, Jesse. "No matter what that means" is just some pathetic cop-out to deny it all; I'm the only goddamn person who's going to tell you that.

[and finally, hiruma lowers his chin to kick that judgemental down-the-nose stare. all of this is about levelling with him, so that's exactly what he's going to do.]

He's selfishly making this out to be your fault, like the fact that you're useful to him is some kinda' death sentence—and what the fuck is that? You tell him to stay and face this with you, or this is gonna' go on and on and fuckin' on.

[The funny part is Jesse can't say he knew what to expect, clear from the uncertain look he directs at the unfaltering presence confronting him. He tries not to be quick in making assumptions about people being proactive on his behalf-- the potential disappointment that lies that way is too much.

This here, though, this is a type of seriousness he can't second-guess. He straightens in his seat when Hiruma draws in close, to give him the respect and attention he deserves. The words are not easy to listen to, but he does not break eye contact, even while he feels his neck burning from the shame of them.

There's a lot he could say. The only things that leap to mind are arguments for Wade-- that's not what he's doing, he doesn't mean what he's doing, you don't know the half of it or what he's been through, he wouldn't do something like that to me-- all of it on the tip of his tongue. Jesse swallows thickly to keep from barking it out. What makes this difficult is the nagging voice reminding him that Wade has been difficult to reach, difficult to connect with, even before he up and disappeared.

He can't be sure of anything with their closeness severed so strangely. And he knows this: Hiruma's comfort is damn near the only thing that kept him anchored while everything spun out of his control. He rubs a hand over the back of his head and leans forward, resting both against his mouth.]

I won't abandon him. [He probably sounds like a broken fucking record, which he seems to understand, from the low and helpless tone.] I already told him my piece. He knows. It's up to him, whatever he does next, but I can't-- I...

[Can't, can't, can't. What else does he say? He's at a loss.]

I didn't say that.

[the reply is clipped; a little too sharp.

hiruma's shoulders sink out of their tensed-up hitch, disappointed in all of this, including himself. he can't do anything, he realizes that. all he can do is whistle dixie at them and hope they take matters into their own hands, like adults. like friends, lovers, whatever the fuck they are. abusing comrades will make him more alone than he's ever been. even with jesse at his side.

loyal to a fucking fault.]

Ordering someone to stop treating you like a pet they can drop off at the sitters isn't abandonment, it's growing a fucking backbone—where the hell is yours? I've seen it, I know it's in there, so what's the difference here?

[he doesn't want to be here right now, he doesn't want to be this person, that's obvious by the detachment he's trying to school his expression into.

however, he has to be and that's the difference. his friends are his responsibility. if it were anyone else, an acquaintance or even another blockmate, this conversation wouldn't even be happening. but it isn't anyone else. it's jesse. hiruma can't rely on the others to do this.]

You wanna' help him out so bad? Enrich his life? Teach Wilson to pay you the same goddamn respect you pay him. That's kindergarten shit.

[And he-- flexes his hand at where the hell is yours, swipes at his mouth. Tic after tic.

Neither of them want to be having this conversation. It says a lot about Hiruma that he's choosing to anyway, when he could just as easily let Wade and Jesse alone. He wants to appreciate it more, but the creeping sense of emotional instability washing over him makes that difficult.

Jesse's leg bounces in place. What he wouldn't give for a hit, a taste to bide him over. He stands and paces towards the window, putting some distance between them under the pretense of lighting up again.]

So, I just like, what, go up to 'im all, "yo, you do that again and I'm cuttin' you out for good"? You know what he's gonna say to that? He's just gonna tell me that's the right thing to do, 'cause he's got it in his head that I'm better off without him.

[After that, he loses Wade. That's what's scaring him. That's what's making his voice shake. He's getting worked up now, which has him gesturing between himself and Hiruma while he talks.]

I could yell at him all I want, order him to straighten up an' fly right or whatever, and he'd just use it as fodder. That's where his goddamn head's at. Trying to have real conversations with him's been like pulling teeth.

[Which, it sounds like, is something Hiruma experienced personally.]

[watching him is difficult, but he does.

it could be worse, hiruma tells himself, a practiced dialogue in his head telling him that trying hard and refusing to quit on this no-win scenario is the logical thing to do (it isn't, it's—frustrating, it's so fucking frustrating), he could be laughing too.

he likes to think he'd turn and walk out that door, if jesse did.

there are clear signs jesse's done with this conversation, but he continues it and hiruma has to wonder why. is he doing it for his own sake, or wilson's? he's fearful, and it's obvious to the only other person who's got a glimpse of his surprisingly perplexing mind, which makes the floor feel like eggshells he's been completely ignoring. a gesture here and there, all of those quirks, the leg, the hands...]

He's going to do this all over again, if you let him.

[hiruma actually closes his eyes; a rarity.]

And so are you.

[he's making jesse nervous, and while it was planned, it's unfair. he's done enough, albeit so fucking little (how can one socially stunted person direct another? he almost shakes his head at himself). so, straightening his shoulders with a deep inhale that fills his chest, he tries to look as solid as he can for the one who seems to be bending under the weight of the situation. there's no animosity there, when eyes open. just a firm determination, a sort of:

keep bending, just don't break. don't you fucking break. like hell i'll let you.]

That's all I got.

[It's mostly for his sake, for the person who's been there for Jesse through all of this.

He owes him an attempt at having this conversation without quitting on it, but he doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't know how to do the simple thing Hiruma's telling him to do. There's a piece of him that reacts to it with a nagging he's right, he's in the right - it's just hard to pick that piece out around the noise and strengthen it with resolve.

He watches Hiruma's eyes shut, with an expression that softens on cue, agitation bleeding out as he forgets his rambling and focuses only on the other presence in the room. He grows still, from that and the look that greets him when eyes open again. There's no averting his own. He simply silently absorbs meaning, tries to place the words he can't hear to the look on his face, and comes about close.

Jesse stares for a long pause. Then he stubs out cigarette number two (barely a few puffs in) and sniffs.]

I'm not gonna let him. [To his credit, it's a bit steadier than all his other attempts.] I'll talk to him again.

[Edging his shoulders against the wall, he rubs at his arm.]

Listen. Thanks for, y'know, helping me look for him, and...

[And the company, and everything.]

I ain't gonna put you in the position of having to fuckin' babysit me all over again. It'll get better.

[jesse's trying, trying with winning intent, and that's what makes this a meaningful venture for hiruma. he knows the helplessness of the situation is getting to him—this conversation is too familiar out of context—but it's not deterring him from wanting better results for him and wilson both. maybe, in time, they can learn to communicate through all of this.

but until that happens, well.

the talk steers in a more accessible way, bringing countless venues of discussion to him, which is a bit of a relief. jesse knows him too well.]

It wasn't a job, or a chore. I wanted to, so I did.

[and the way jesse stands with his shoulders to the wall, still facing him despite the nature of his stress is commendable. hiruma further alleviates it, dashing his own worry with a frank expression. a bit forced, with the atmosphere the way it is, but he wants to settle back into their previous comfort too.

it's fulfilling, when they work together.

no matter how ridiculous the fucking project, hiruma thinks, thumb rubbing at that scar on the back of his hand.]

Just like everything else.

[The answer doesn't come as a surprise, which is a surprise in itself. Who knew he'd find such a reliable friend in Hiruma? The idea of how close they managed to become would've been weird - very weird - to him back when he first met the guy.

He drops his chin with the ghost of a smile and a soft huff.]

It kept me together.

[Murmured with a touch too much honesty, he keeps his gaze pointed at the ground to keep from feeling embarrassed. Jesse slouches back further with a bent knee, to press his sole against the back of the wall.]

Jesus, listen to me. Gross.

[Making fun of it is another way of accomplishing that. "Just like everything else"-- without lifting his head, he looks for Hiruma's face again, expression brighter than it was before.]

Neither of us do anythin' we don't wanna. It's as simple as that.

[it kept me together.

hiruma doesn't know what to say, really, as he stands opposite him. what can anyone say to that? "me too"? it feels like a cop-out, but anything will when he's faced with this kind of sincerity. thankfully, before fumbling a reply, jesse amends his own attitude before there's even a chance to think of one.

instead, lips quirk to spite the little frown he made at himself, leeching off of that brightening mood.]

Heh... well said.

[it takes one long moment for hiruma to make the switch from discreet to something a little more familiar, all the regular qualities back in hopes of showing jesse just how consistent someone's personality can be.]

True to the chaos theory, even an action perceived as small and insignificant can have a very large impact over time. You're a problematic bastard for me as well, so remember that when you try to short-change yourself.

[Jesse offers him a tiny smile. He does appreciate this. Someone is doing something they don't have to do for his sake, to try and prevent him from getting hurt again. How can he not appreciate that?]

Chaos theory? What a nerd.

[He lifts off the wall and meanders closer.]

You're a good reason to keep my shit together. I'll give you that.

[A shoulder-bump, in the end, on his way to his cot. Jesse cranes his neck over his shoulder to address him once more before he flops down to sit.]

I'm beat. Was that it, or did ya wanna keep me company too?

[a huff of a laugh at the positive response from jesse, placated more than he'll ever know. what a relief. what a load off of his mind—for the time being anyway. that's more than enough for now, they both did a good job (hiruma has half a mind to kick his friend in the ass, but now that he's seated he'll have to settle for verbal congratulations).

you're a good reason to keep my shit together.]

That's not as big a fucking burden as you make it out to be.

[said plainly, hiruma does mosey over with the intent to join him. after being told something so profoundly with an amiable knock of their shoulders, it's no small wonder why; it's one of the kindest things anyone's ever said to him. but before he can sit down on and share the cot, a hand finds the frame of the top bunk, leaning under.

eyes crease with a smile.]

Tell me to stay.

[A counter he should've seen coming. He would rather not be alone, all things considered, and this person has proved good company in the past.

Hiruma knows it too, doesn't he? He leans back on his palms and exhales off to the side. It's an action meant to convey exaggerated indifference to the challenge, because it is one-- as soon as his eyes dart back over and catch that smile leaning into his space, he knows he's a goner.]

Stay.

[Jesse sits up proper and guides a hand over the material of his shirt bunching together at his hip. A tug there with his fingers, to convince him to sit.]

[hiruma sits.

no tease about withholding, no time taken to dwell on the tug at his hip, and no smart-aleck remark. hiruma simply stoops to avoid cracking his head on the wood and folds a leg onto the comforter before he settles, perching sideways on the edge of the cot. fingers reach for jesse's wrist, pulling that hand away from his shirt with a small squeeze.]

Yeah, I will.

[it's one thing to keep someone company, but it's another to comfort them—he's sorely lacking at the latter, but jesse doesn't want to be alone (and neither does he). it's their responsibility to guard each other, now, whether that's from people or night terrors. it doesn't matter if he's unaccustomed to it or not; whether it's sappy or not.]

Just lie down and don't hog all the damn space.

[His second year into Haven, this is normal. He doesn't bother to fight it or second-guess it-- this is how they survive, this is how they keep going.

By drinking in that flood of relief when Hiruma, a familiar presence he can trust, perches next to him. Jesse slides his palm down and squeezes his friend's. They like to throw up a certain amount of bravado and bullshit, as per their personalities, but it's clear that this is a moment they're both succumbing to.

He's grateful to Hiruma for the clear communication, the clear message. He shifts down onto his side and under the covers, facing the outside, leaving as much space as he can on the small surface area.]

Y'know, ever since you got us these comforters-- [Oops, was that something Hiruma was still denying?] Sleeping's been easier.

[when thin fingers return his own gesture, some of those frayed nerves about this past month seem to knit up, making his resolution to do this that much stronger. hiruma only lets go as jesse sinks down to do what was suggested; he'll get some rest like this, no doubt.

and when he flips back the comforter their topic turns to, crawling in with a bed-rattling drop onto his back, hiruma snorts sharply at being outed aloud.]

It kept you all from bitching when I moved in, didn't it?

[he gives jesse a side-long glance, lips a thin line as he tries not to smirk outright (a losing battle). he knows they both hide a great deal to save face, but it's fun to learn of the things they kept from one another when their trust was still on the fence. hiruma wonders if he should let him in on some of the things he's learned; some of the times he's fondly preserved.]

Consider it a present for a present.

[Jesse tosses onto his side and shoots his friend a knowing and amused look. Back pressing to the wall, immediately he feels calmer. Something about sharing these shitty cots makes the stress about their chaotic environment bleed away. It took him too long to figure that out, but now that he has this knowledge, he's never backtracking.]

What present?

[Mumbled automatically without thinking.]

Admit it. You just had to be in my block. Couldn't stand bein' anywhere else, could ya.

[Slurred sleepily.]

Don't get cocky now, that was a toss-up between a couple of idiots. You simply happened to be the less stunned of the two.

[he has to look over at that sleepy goading, reaching up to pinch jesse's nose closed with an index finger and thumb. there's a wicked little squeeze.]

I didn't think you'd show for February's fire. Wasn't exactly a conventional party, what with the ass-kicking and hand immolation we got, but it was fun.

[letting up a bit, hiruma smirks.]

Right?

[How dare you. In the middle of a soft chuckle when his nose is nabbed, it turns the sound into a garble. He's about to protest more, but Hiruma's follow-up explanation leaves him pausing to try and fit the pieces together.]

I-- [Wow that's a nasal voice. Jesse huffs and tugs Hiruma's hand away at the wrist.] Wait, a party? Don't tell me that was your birthday or somethin'.

[Yeah, it was fun. More fun than it had any right to be. The smile he's wearing says so.]

Ah, you figured it out. Your IQ must be well over sixty.

[eyebrow raising with his taunt, hiruma sniffs with a great deal of amusement. it'd been at the end of his first full month in haven, yet it still turned out better than his last two birthdays. irony at its finest.]

I was right to trust you.

[He scoffs-- not at the insult, at the revelation.]

Seriously? It really was?

[February... what was the date? He can't recall.]

One hell of a way to celebrate. We're just gonna have to do it again next year.

[if there is a next year.

despite the dreary thought of a no doubt harrowing future, hiruma returns jesse's refreshing (surprising) optimism with a slow smile, fingers flexing under the touch at his wrist.]

That's not impossible, per say, but don't tell me yours has passed? We'll have to cause twice the trouble.

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