maskormenace

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It's weird to think that maybe this Earth could turn out like the one from my universe. Or timeline. Or however it works...
(I'm not really smart about all this, I'm sorry...)

But there's a lot that's similar. Even on the planet I lived on, and all the ones in the galaxy, we all use the same clock system, even though some days are longer or shorter depending on which planet you landed on. Same 24 hour clock. And this Earth uses one, too. And there's baseball and hovercars and the moon landing was about the same time (I think)...

So I wonder how long it will take for this Earth to leave the planet, if it will. Or maybe it won't because it won't make the same mistakes the Earth in my history did. Or maybe they WILL but they'll decide to do something differently. Maybe because people like us are here it's already changed how things will go. Maybe because I'm here the railways from my world can show, and maybe because someone else is here, something from their history will happen? IS that already happening?

It's also weird that I can think about all this without trying when I'm TRYING to study something else...

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never had a chance to learn. california is a series of deserts punctuated by towns. but if there IS a flood here, i'll be useless in any rescue efforts...

It's OK. I don't think anybody expects you to be able to respond to every emergency. You're a 16 year old lit student, right?
But if you DO want to be able to help, you know how to find ways to learn.

being young doesn't mean i don't want to help. i don't care what other people expect of me.

you're right, i just. i need time when it comes to swimming. training with the super strength, fine, i'll cross that bridge if i have to, but i can't deal with water. and it's got a lot more to do with having found someone i love face down in it than it does not being able to swim. hell, with super strength i could tread water, probably. but...

[But while Brendan hasn't read a lot of psychology books, he knows that's not the root of the problem.]

[after a delay:] That's horrible...
I'm really sorry Brendan...

[After a slight pause:]

it's okay. i mean, it's not, but i got the murderer locked up and that's. that's all i can really do. crying doesn't raise the dead.

i'll be okay. it just takes time, right? and then i'll get over it.

It's easier to walk with as time goes on, but...you don't get over it. It's not going to leave you, because it can't. When it's someone important...
But it will be easier.

[He considers putting the phone down and going and getting profoundly drunk. But for the first time in his life, he's living with an adult that frowns on that sort of thing, and he's on thin ice with that sort of thing already. He considers texting back something worthless like 'i guess so' and letting it be.

But Manabu is an upstanding guy, and Brendan's had so little of that and no one to talk to, so he can't help doing the text equivalent of blurting out everything.]

she was my girlfriend. we were in a rough patch but still, we were working it out. we had to; she was pregnant.

and then i found her body in a drainpipe.

i can't see it getting easier because i can't see that far ahead. all i can see is what could've been and what was. am i making sense? i'm probably not. shit. sorry.

[this is killing him more because he can't just reach through a screen to hug the guy and empathize than anything.

so he talks out the words he types, kind of trying to magically impose his sincerity:]

It makes sense.
Thinking about what you could've done differently, or maybe changing one thing about it. Maybe a dozen things... Realizing some stupid mistake if you hadn't done or did something, or if you had been somewhere else...
I know.
I'm so sorry. I wish you didn't have to go through something like that. It's not fair...

[Brendan would take a hug right now. That's how low his emotional state is, which is fairly rare - or it was, until Emily died. Then the world simply quit making sense.]

i don't know how to deal with things. i talk tough and maybe i am, in some aspects, but i've got no clue how to live my life anymore.

can i come over? or can you come over? last time i was alone and thought about this i raided my housemate's alcohol and that didn't make things better. it just made everything worse.

im on my way

[may as well have told him a house full of kittens was on fire for as fast as he books it out of his home.

see, Manabu doesn't have to know someone long or even well enough to drop everything to help. that's part of who he is. but part of who he is hurts the same way Brendan does, and he knows. he knows there's things there that, even with all the good intentions in the world, he can't fix. no one can.

but that doesn't mean someone gets left alone to hurt when the feelings get raw.

it's why he doesn't even feel the exhaustion and burn when he's made his last heavy steps up to the door, not even taking time to be amazed he remembers the addressed. his fist hits heavily a few times before dropping to rest on his knee like the other one, supporting his weight while he pants loudly for breath.

he hasn't run that fast in a while.]

[Brendan wasn't expecting that answer. The real struggle then becomes not giving into the temptation to dive on the booze in the meantime; he paces, he flips on the radio to fill the silence, he tries to identify what he's feeling at someone actually giving enough of a shit to come over. There's surprise, sure, but there's something else, something more, unfamiliar and not unpleasant.

He opens the door after jumping at the initial knock, taking in the sight on Manabu out of breath. Brendan's without his usual jacket, at the moment - as much as he clings to it, it being the only thing Emily gave him he has here, it does in fact need to be watched. The effect, combined with his curly hair acting up in the humidity, makes him look extra young and extra disheveled.

Manabu, though, looks sort of like a miracle. People on TV have friends who bolt over for them. People like Brendan don't. That's just how life is. So after an awkward pause, he just sort of mumbles,] Hey. I - I didn't think you'd be over so fast.

[He steps back to let him in, not sure what to do now that he's actually here. He actually came over. He's here. Brendan has no idea what people typically do at this point or what to say, but he feels little less hollowed out by everything just having him present.

Is this what having normal friends is like? He doesn't ask. On impulse, he starts to reach for Manabu to direct him to the living room, so he can sit down and catch his breath. Then he remembers the 'superpower' and stops himself.]

...thanks. For, um, for coming. And letting me talk. I don't - I didn't, get that a lot. Back home.

Ha...ha, heh... [he lifts his head up and smiles from behind a bunch of frazzled, messy bangs. thank goodness, he thinks, a thought radiating in his expression. he made good time.

he sees the arm not as a threat but an offer, and while Brendan mumbles, Manabu reaches for and pulls the arm over. he's then got the boy in a mix of crutch and hug, his arm slung over Brendan's shoulders, slumping for a moment until he can get a step forward in for balance. even then, he leans. ]

I think... I think I'm going to see about getting a drivers license...

[Brendan lets himself be pulled into the sort-of hug. It's surprising just how little he knows about what the right response to that is; what he ends up doing is instinctively wrapping a stabilizing arm around Manabu. As far as hugs go it isn't the best return of affection, but he's trying. Manabu reminds him a lot of his friend Brian, before Brian got jaded and retreated from the world. Before San Clemente broke his resolve to be optimistic.]

Definitely. [He smiles, weak but genuine.] Hell, Sunset, I'll help ya study. Might as well get my license, too, right? C'mon, let's get you onto the couch before you fade out on me.

[Brendan doesn't need to hold onto him as much as he does to transport him to said couch but he does so because he's not sure how else to convey 'thank you' to him.]

Fade? [he is led with little difficulty, and he plops on the couch with a loud sigh. his face scrunches for a split second because there's the burning leg muscles, but the smile is back without a thought.] No, I'm fine. I just didn't stretch before that...

[while waiting for Brendan to sit, he sets to pushing and smearing hair out of his face (some of which returns anyway), and will make an expectant face if nobody's sat down by the time he's done that. ]

Your housemates won't mind me visiting I hope? I didn't bring anything but myself...

[Brendan sits a bit closer to him than is probably proper. It's so weird to have someone nearby like this. He never realized that it would mean something until he was knee deep in what felt like the hundredth freak out about the past.] Figure of speech. My world's weird. We've been over this.

[With a shrug, he leans back against the couch, looking and feeling exhausted.] 'S alright, Hunk's usually in his room doing I don't even know what and Archie's out doing something with one of his friends or some shit. They're mellow, anyway.

[He nearly adds 'please don't go' but instead just gives him a look, pleading silently.]

Well, that's a relief. [because the mention of drinking his problems away made him worry Brendan was also rooming with an alarmingly intense drinker like he is.

it means he can take his boots off, which he realizes he didn't do at the door. he bends forward to peel them off. jeez, his mom would have something to say about this...

he leans out so he can put his boots at least...somewhat closer to the door and out of the way. that's an attempt. it's fine. he's fine with that. he flops back against the couch, bumping Brendan's shoulder with his and giving him a sheepish smile that flickers when glimpsing at the look on Brendan's face.]

Not that-- that would mean I'd just leave if they yelled me out. I'd just drag you out with me.

[Is it gay to lean his head on Manabu's shoulder? It's definitely not the straightest thing Brendan's done, but he's way far removed from the mindset that would even let him entertain the idea of making a pass at anyone right now. He's just suddenly aware of how young he is, in a frightening way, in the sense that there's a long stretch of time between now and the grave and he's scared of the future after the shitshow that the past was.

To hell with it. He pulls his legs up onto the couch and curls against Manabu like the scared, depressed, overwhelmed teenager he is. If Manabu wants to shove him off, fair enough; they can cross that bridge when they come to it.]

Archie actually told me I should find somebody to talk to, locked up the booze after I raided it, informed me normal people try and discuss their baggage instead of hitting the bottle. I don't - I don't really do that sort of thing. I don't know how. But you seem like you've got your life together. More than me, at least.

[After a second, a thought hits him, and he cringes.] Prob'bly makes it sound like I'm using you, huh? Damnit.

Haah? [using him?

Manabu, having fidgeted only just so that the head on his shoulder wouldn't slide off, glances down at the mop of hair. he makes a thoughtful sound before responding.]

I don't know what planet Archie's from, but I can only count on two hands how many people I know who talk their problems out first instead of something stupid or unhelpful. I don't always do the right thing, either. It's...kind of hard, when your head's hurting and your heart's so heavy, you know?

[a beat. he wriggles his arm behind and across Brendan's shoulders, plopping his hand on his head. it's what his big brother used to do when he was upset.]

But. He's right about the talking part. That's better than trying to drown it out with drinks. [he drums his fingers just once as reinforcement, but not unkindly, to match his softened tone:] Don't make it sound like asking for help is a bad thing. You're only using help because you need it, and I don't mind that at all.

In all the books I've read, this is the easy bit. Feelings spill out and the next chapter is perfect, or at least better, unless it's Shakespeare. Reading always made it seem like a one-step solution - didn't mention it was gonna feel like pulling teeth as far as how easy it isn't.

[He sort of blinks at the gesture. Not having a brother, he guesses he should associate this sort of thing with his dad, but his dad's a non-entity most of the time, working, drinking and going out with women while his mom acts like she doesn't care. Brendan's parents haven't ruffled his hair since he was four or five and they still liked each other a little. It's weird to have someone do it now, but it's nice, like being reminded of a good dream.]

Help always had price tags attached to it back home. As in, the last time I broke down about this back there, the girl I thought was a shoulder to cry on used it as an opportunity to fuck me. I was pretty beat up at the time, physically, on top o' emotionally. So I just sorta let it happen. I hated it, but it happened. And I don't - I don't wanna go through that shit again. I don't want to have to lay with you to get to be human.

Bein' on guard all the time, though, that's... difficult. To maintain and to unlearn both.

[it's a good thing Manabu's expression can't be seen, because he grimaces at the explanation. it makes his gut churn. why anybody goes out of their way to hurt anyone always gets the knee-jerk response of why?, but Manabu knows there's always more behind things.

doesn't mean he has to like what's behind it.

he swallows on a lump in his throat and lets out a little sigh, carefully smoothing out what hair he messed up.]

I'm not-- [eugh. just the idea of taking advantage of anyone when they're--] You're not going to have to put up with that. That someone would do something like that to you when you were hurt is really... [exhale. it makes him angry.]

Not fair. I'm sorry.

[There might not be more to things. If there is, Brendan is beyond caring. He doesn't want dig for that information, doesn't want to know whatever rationale was behind it, just wants it to go away.

These things don't go away. Time hasn't put enough distance between him and what happened for that. They're not even lurking in the shadows, they're just right there, behind him, whenever he glances back at the past. Hesitantly, he wraps an arm around Manabu's torso and sort of clings. Manabu is someone he pegged for a sap and maybe he is, but it's the good kind of sap, the kind that makes the world less bleak to live in.]

I know you're not. You're not that kinda person. And I think maybe I need that right now. No strings attached or undertones or moves made, just. I don't know. Normalcy. Stability. Whatever that means.

Whatever that means...

[he frowns down at the shape clinging to him, drawing up his legs to sit cross-legged, a better prop.

one of the hardest things for Manabu to come to terms with is that he can't fix everything. for as hard as he works, as much as he tries to do, it only goes so far, and oftentimes not far enough. he can't do anything to wipe away the horrible things Brendan dealt with, can't change how the fallout manifested in him.

it's not much different than out on the force. it's a lesson he's learned more than once, but he struggles to accept.

sometimes the best one can do is just be.

still...Manabu can't help but wish he could be doing more.]

[Manabu is so comforting, so - so safe. A good guy who is actually good, somebody who got a shitty power and is still helping people, someone who listened to the series of catastrophes that was Brendan's life and still remained instead of backing away. He's almost impossibly perfect. Or, more likely, Brendan's been burned enough times his standards are impossibly low.

Either way, he feels more human than he has in a long time, maybe since he got here, and to his eternal embarrassment, he begins to cry. The San Clemente part of him says to suck it the fuck up and keep on keeping on, but he just can't keep pushing it all away. It's too much.

This, though, this is good. This is enough. This is what it feels like not to be carrying the weight of the world entirely on his own. And God help him, whatever age he feels like, he really is just barely sixteen. A kid, as Archie put it. Or at least, too young to deal with all this on his own. He just needs this moment.

He'll quip about it later, make it seem like less than it was. It's how he deals with things. But for now, he just holds tight to Manabu. For now, he feels like he can without risking being burned.]

[the knife in Manabu's gut twists tighter when he hears the kid in his lap start to sniff and cry. carefully he shifts to better collect the grief slumped over him. it's usually the other way around with this kind of thing for him...

he slowly and methodically stroked the hair under his hand, tilting his head back to gently rest against the wall behind him as he closes his eyes. he remembers evenings in his mother's arms, angry and inconsolable and guilty. she held him similarly, stroked his hair, and let him have it out, and by the end of it he would wear out and find a way back to sleep and a means to facing the next day.

sometimes that's all it takes, even if it doesn't seem that way.]

[The last time Brendan's mother had held him and let him cry, he'd been in preschool. Back then, he'd thought that sort of familial love was written into stone, that it lasted forever, that he would always have someone around. Then his parents started to get busier. They just wanted to make sure he had money for college and a roof over his head. They were flawed, but he didn't hate them. He missed them. He missed not being alone.

He was going to make a home somehow for him, Emily and the baby. It was going to be rough, but he could have, would have, found work. They were going to beat the odds and he was going to hold his daughter close in all the ways his parents never did for him and-

Brendan cries until he gradually loses the energy to. There's still a void, there. There maybe always will be, he doesn't know. But he doesn't feel like he needs to go drink until he's blind or steal sleeping pills from the pharmacy downtown or anything like that. The future, he still can't picture, can't handle. Tonight, though, he can handle that, and maybe, if he takes it one day at a time, he can keep staying alive, if only because it would really hurt Manabu if he didn't.

Post-crying, he falls asleep against the other guy, tired on a level that goes much deeper than lack of rest.]

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CW for canonical dub-con/sort of non-con

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