I've told you before don't follow me
WHO: Keith Anyan (motherloaded) and Jonah Matsuka (coffeematsuka).
WHERE: Central Park
WHEN: Some days ago, before Keith's meeting with Salaak. I'm totally punctual, you guys.
WARNINGS: Keith being a jerk to Matsuka, but otherwise nothing.
SUMMARY: Keith broods. Matsuka notices.
FORMAT: Prose.
For Matsuka, life in the City is beginning to settle into something almost like a routine. Work at the toy store in the mornings, lunch with Bakura afterwards, and then the walk back to the MAC. If it weren't for the steadily looming shadow of mounting conflict with the Hive hanging over the city, creating an atmosphere of anxiety and anger that his Mu senses can't easily escape from, it would really be surprisingly pleasant.
This afternoon, the walk back takes him through the park, and as he goes along - carrying with him a take-home bag from today's lunch spot; he's made a habit of bringing back lunch for Keith, since Keith has yet to tell him not to - he worries a little.
* * *
He's right to worry.
Keith hasn't been settling into a routine quite as well as Matsuka, and it's starting to take its toll on him. Sure, he doesn't have to put up with all the restless, boiling feelings rolling through the City--he can simply observe them, make a note, and then look away, all the while not truly comprehending--but he also doesn't have anything to do. No one has offered him a job, and most offers he'd probably turn down anyway. It's not easy going from leading a war under the direct command of a supercomputer network to wandering around a city with plenty of free time and, worse, free will.
He's taken to playing chess, finding solace in the game's ruthless and cerebral nature. Which is how Matsuka is about to see him now.
At the moment, he's preparing to corner a much older and more experienced player. He seems undeterred by the fact that his opponent is a little old man who's probably somebody's beloved grandfather. He's been practicing, and it only makes sense to put that practice into play, regardless of who his opponent is. "Check."
* * *
Matsuka feels Keith's presence well before he actually sees him, and the familiar pressure of the strength of that mind has him stopping short, looking instinctively around for him.
Once he spots Keith at the chess table, Matsuka starts in that direction, but he only goes a few steps before he hesitates. It's not very often that he gets the chance to see Keith like this, unaware of Matsuka's presence, and for a moment Matsuka just stands there, watching the game from a handful of yards off.
* * *
Keith plays without any emotion except a certain intentness in his gaze. The only other quirk to his playing is that he lingers a little bit on the pieces each time he moves them. He's broken himself of the habit of personifying them, identifying with them--mostly. There's still a little trace of it that he can't shake. It's his weakness: it makes him all too prone to putting his queen into dangerous situations. This time, though, he's avoided that trap. He moves again. "Checkmate."
If he knew Matsuka was watching, he wouldn't say this next bit, however emotionless and cool it may be when he does. "Thank you for playing against me. It was a pleasure." Insofar as he understands the concept of pleasure.
* * *
It brings a pleased, involuntary smile to Matsuka's face, and, finding himself reluctant to spoil it, he stands where he is for a little longer, until after Keith's opponent has moved along. Only then does he start towards him again, that smile still lingering on his face. "Keith...?"
* * *
And Keith stands up in one smooth motion, turning to level a sharp stare on Matsuka. He lifts one hand, pushes out just a little--and that aura of terror flicks out from him just long enough to sweep through Matsuka, then rolls back in.
It isn't fair. Matsuka wasn't directly behind him. But Keith is more on edge than he looks, and he has more than ever invested in appearing unshakably cold to Matsuka. Being seen politely playing games, when he didn't expect to be seen...it's not acceptable.
"If you sense my presence when you aren't expecting to, warn me before approaching."
* * *
Matsuka flinches back from Keith when that wave of fear rushes over him; the gasp of breath that escapes him is almost a yelp, and he only just manages not to drop the bag he's holding. "I'm sorry," he says, ducking his head in anxious apology. "I didn't mean to--" He's not sure where he erred, was careful as always not to approach Keith from behind, but clearly he's done something wrong somehow.
* * *
Good. That takes care of that smile, ensures that Matsuka doesn't cling to the idea that Keith is particularly kind (or so Keith thinks). "We'll return to the MAC now," Keith says. He glances dismissively at the bag. "Lunch?" His tone is flat, unappreciative. Just to drive the point home. After a moment, though, he falls into step next to and just ahead of Matsuka--more or less at his side.
* * *
And Matsuka automatically moves to keep pace with Keith, following along in his customary flanking position and keeping his head meekly bowed. "Yes," he replies quietly - it's a gyro today, from a nice little Greek place, but he's still shaken from a moment ago and not feeling nearly confident enough to try to explain this at the moment.
* * *
Keith walks in silence for a little while. He looks straight ahead and keeps his features expressionless, refusing to show any of the uncertainties that are beginning to plague him. Was it really all right, what he just did to Matsuka? Of course: he needs to make sure Matsuka's behavior is properly directed, and he'll use any means available to him to do so. But why? What's the point, here? He has no orders to fulfill.
"Matsuka." He forces himself to snap out of his brooding--but it doesn't entirely take. His voice is even flatter than usual. "Why did you take the job at the toy store?"
* * *
The question has Matsuka daring to look quizzically up at Keith, not really sure what's prompted it. "I thought it would be good to earn some extra money," he says slowly. "The imPort stipend isn't very much, and we're mostly on our own here, so..."
He bites his lip briefly, looking down at the ground in front of his feet, and then back up again. "There probably aren't many jobs that I can do very well," he admits, faintly shamefaced, "but I thought working for Bakura might be all right, since he already knew me... and since he's an imPort too, he'd understand if I needed to leave suddenly now and again..."
* * *
At the words 'on our own here,' Keith stops suddenly. He doesn't look back to see Matsuka's expression. He's not sure he wants to, for that matter. He lifts his gaze a little to the sky as Matsuka finishes speaking. "Then it was that easy. Deciding what to do." He's still for a moment, and in that moment he looks almost...wistful.
Then he does flick a glance back at Matsuka. "You're so willing to take a menial job like that. No wonder you ended up like this."
* * *
Matsuka stops short when Keith does, and watches his face closely, brows drawing together in concern as his vague worries suddenly crystallize into something more immediate. It had not really occurred to him that Keith would not have a plan, would be at a loss without Grandmother's guidance - for Matsuka, Keith is the one who gives orders, and now he's having second thoughts about mentioning to Keith the other reason that he'd thought it would be a good idea for him to take a humble job as an office assistant, so as to leave Keith free to decide on a course of action.
That last comment brings a shamed flush to Matsuka's face, and he looks hastily away, but its not enough to drive these other thoughts from his mind. "It was Bakura's suggestion," he murmurs. "I don't really mind, since I'm used to it anyway..."
He'd wondered before, worried over it a little, but now he's certain of it - Keith needs something to do.
* * *
Just before the shame comes to Matsuka's face, Keith has an instant to catch sight of his previous expression. And he doesn't like it. It's almost as if Matsuka has had some insight into Keith himself, and that's never right. It's not supposed to be that way. Keith is intended to be a closed book to him of all people.
His expression shuts down, going from contempt to blankness. "You're suited to it," he says in neutral tones. Then his mouth twists into what's almost a frown. "Matsuka. Forget I said anything. It's not important."
* * *
"Keith--" Worry compels Matsuka to speak up earnestly when discretion might have kept him silent instead. "With everything that's going on, wouldn't it be better to focus on protecting this place instead of on the Mu? You said yourself that we're too divided - I might not be able to do anything, but the police could probably use your help, or one of the other groups that's been organized--"
* * *
They're not far enough along the path that a physical blow wouldn't be heard, wouldn't draw attention. It's something that Keith has had to keep in mind here in the City: he needs to pick and choose when he can discipline Matsuka. For now, he simply stops short, grabs hold of Matsuka's shoulder, drags him up close, and lifts him a little by the collar. "There's no point in trying to protect your fellow monsters," he says. "Regardless of what happens here, I'll eliminate them and you when we return." For a moment, a shadow of expression flickers in his eye--impossible to tell just what it is. Not doubt. He's still not capable of doubt. Maybe wonder. "You know that, and you're still giving me suggestions." It doesn't make any sense. In a situation like this, where Matsuka isn't nearly as isolated as Keith would prefer him to be, Matsuka should be growing closer to turning on him, not growing closer to him. He shouldn't have to do anything--only wait for Matsuka to get enough courage to strike him down--
Abruptly, he drops Matsuka. "You're pathetic," he says. "Even for a Mu."
* * *
All that Matsuka can do is cringe, pulled up onto his toes and dangling helplessly from Keith's grip on his collar, his eyes wide with dismay and fear. His hand comes up briefly in a short, abortive gesture, but he stops himself before he can actually dare so much as to reach for Keith's wrist - no. Bad idea.
He staggers a little when that grip is abruptly released, but manages to keep his feet, and his hand flattens against his own chest as he tries to steady himself, breath leaving him in an uneven little shudder. "I'm sorry," he murmurs again, unhappily.
* * *
Keith makes a small noise of contempt. "You're apologizing." He catches a wisp of incredulity in him at the notion, then erases it. It's too close to doubt. He looks down at Matsuka in silence for a moment longer, then turns to start walking again.
After a while, he speaks again. Now it's on a subject completely normal. "What did you get for lunch?" As if he hadn't just dangled Matsuka helplessly in front of him.
* * *
"I just..." But Matsuka's voice is a barely-audible whisper, and he doesn't finish the thought aloud as Keith turns away to start walking again, just trails along in cowed silence.
I just want to help.
"Ah--" At the question he looks up, brow still furrowed anxiously. "It's a gyro," he says. "We had Greek today."
* * *
Keith doesn't respond to that whisper. It's an attempt at communication, not an acknowledgment of orders or harmless comment. Such things cannot be encouraged. The explanation of lunch, though, slows Keith down, and he turns slightly to give Matsuka a puzzled frown. "Greek?" He's been doing research here, but as far as he knows 'Greek' just refers to a nationality and a kind of mythology (the kind Pandora's box comes from). He doesn't see how it applies to food as well.
* * *
"That's what Bakura said, anyhow." Matsuka has mostly given up trying to keep up with the different styles of food that Bakura seems intent on introducing him to; sometimes he recognizes things, sometimes he doesn't. "It's good."
Matsuka has yet to sort out the puzzle of just what Keith likes to eat, or if he in fact takes any notice of his food at all beyond the fact that it keeps him from starving, but the complete absence of input from Keith on the subject hasn't yet convinced him to stop trying.
* * *
The truth is, Keith has yet to puzzle out what Keith likes to eat. It hasn't occurred to him yet to think of food as something other than a necessary nourishment, but he has started noticing how different it can be here. And there's the matter of that sushi Safeguard told him about...he'll have to look into that, simply because Safeguard told him about it. "We'll see." He comes to the end of the path and starts back up for the sidewalk.
* * *
"...of course," Matsuka says in a murmur. It's all he dares to say right now, over-conscious of having stepped a little too close to some line that he doesn't entirely understand but knows he can't risk pushing too far.
WHERE: Central Park
WHEN: Some days ago, before Keith's meeting with Salaak. I'm totally punctual, you guys.
WARNINGS: Keith being a jerk to Matsuka, but otherwise nothing.
SUMMARY: Keith broods. Matsuka notices.
FORMAT: Prose.
For Matsuka, life in the City is beginning to settle into something almost like a routine. Work at the toy store in the mornings, lunch with Bakura afterwards, and then the walk back to the MAC. If it weren't for the steadily looming shadow of mounting conflict with the Hive hanging over the city, creating an atmosphere of anxiety and anger that his Mu senses can't easily escape from, it would really be surprisingly pleasant.
This afternoon, the walk back takes him through the park, and as he goes along - carrying with him a take-home bag from today's lunch spot; he's made a habit of bringing back lunch for Keith, since Keith has yet to tell him not to - he worries a little.
* * *
He's right to worry.
Keith hasn't been settling into a routine quite as well as Matsuka, and it's starting to take its toll on him. Sure, he doesn't have to put up with all the restless, boiling feelings rolling through the City--he can simply observe them, make a note, and then look away, all the while not truly comprehending--but he also doesn't have anything to do. No one has offered him a job, and most offers he'd probably turn down anyway. It's not easy going from leading a war under the direct command of a supercomputer network to wandering around a city with plenty of free time and, worse, free will.
He's taken to playing chess, finding solace in the game's ruthless and cerebral nature. Which is how Matsuka is about to see him now.
At the moment, he's preparing to corner a much older and more experienced player. He seems undeterred by the fact that his opponent is a little old man who's probably somebody's beloved grandfather. He's been practicing, and it only makes sense to put that practice into play, regardless of who his opponent is. "Check."
* * *
Matsuka feels Keith's presence well before he actually sees him, and the familiar pressure of the strength of that mind has him stopping short, looking instinctively around for him.
Once he spots Keith at the chess table, Matsuka starts in that direction, but he only goes a few steps before he hesitates. It's not very often that he gets the chance to see Keith like this, unaware of Matsuka's presence, and for a moment Matsuka just stands there, watching the game from a handful of yards off.
* * *
Keith plays without any emotion except a certain intentness in his gaze. The only other quirk to his playing is that he lingers a little bit on the pieces each time he moves them. He's broken himself of the habit of personifying them, identifying with them--mostly. There's still a little trace of it that he can't shake. It's his weakness: it makes him all too prone to putting his queen into dangerous situations. This time, though, he's avoided that trap. He moves again. "Checkmate."
If he knew Matsuka was watching, he wouldn't say this next bit, however emotionless and cool it may be when he does. "Thank you for playing against me. It was a pleasure." Insofar as he understands the concept of pleasure.
* * *
It brings a pleased, involuntary smile to Matsuka's face, and, finding himself reluctant to spoil it, he stands where he is for a little longer, until after Keith's opponent has moved along. Only then does he start towards him again, that smile still lingering on his face. "Keith...?"
* * *
And Keith stands up in one smooth motion, turning to level a sharp stare on Matsuka. He lifts one hand, pushes out just a little--and that aura of terror flicks out from him just long enough to sweep through Matsuka, then rolls back in.
It isn't fair. Matsuka wasn't directly behind him. But Keith is more on edge than he looks, and he has more than ever invested in appearing unshakably cold to Matsuka. Being seen politely playing games, when he didn't expect to be seen...it's not acceptable.
"If you sense my presence when you aren't expecting to, warn me before approaching."
* * *
Matsuka flinches back from Keith when that wave of fear rushes over him; the gasp of breath that escapes him is almost a yelp, and he only just manages not to drop the bag he's holding. "I'm sorry," he says, ducking his head in anxious apology. "I didn't mean to--" He's not sure where he erred, was careful as always not to approach Keith from behind, but clearly he's done something wrong somehow.
* * *
Good. That takes care of that smile, ensures that Matsuka doesn't cling to the idea that Keith is particularly kind (or so Keith thinks). "We'll return to the MAC now," Keith says. He glances dismissively at the bag. "Lunch?" His tone is flat, unappreciative. Just to drive the point home. After a moment, though, he falls into step next to and just ahead of Matsuka--more or less at his side.
* * *
And Matsuka automatically moves to keep pace with Keith, following along in his customary flanking position and keeping his head meekly bowed. "Yes," he replies quietly - it's a gyro today, from a nice little Greek place, but he's still shaken from a moment ago and not feeling nearly confident enough to try to explain this at the moment.
* * *
Keith walks in silence for a little while. He looks straight ahead and keeps his features expressionless, refusing to show any of the uncertainties that are beginning to plague him. Was it really all right, what he just did to Matsuka? Of course: he needs to make sure Matsuka's behavior is properly directed, and he'll use any means available to him to do so. But why? What's the point, here? He has no orders to fulfill.
"Matsuka." He forces himself to snap out of his brooding--but it doesn't entirely take. His voice is even flatter than usual. "Why did you take the job at the toy store?"
* * *
The question has Matsuka daring to look quizzically up at Keith, not really sure what's prompted it. "I thought it would be good to earn some extra money," he says slowly. "The imPort stipend isn't very much, and we're mostly on our own here, so..."
He bites his lip briefly, looking down at the ground in front of his feet, and then back up again. "There probably aren't many jobs that I can do very well," he admits, faintly shamefaced, "but I thought working for Bakura might be all right, since he already knew me... and since he's an imPort too, he'd understand if I needed to leave suddenly now and again..."
* * *
At the words 'on our own here,' Keith stops suddenly. He doesn't look back to see Matsuka's expression. He's not sure he wants to, for that matter. He lifts his gaze a little to the sky as Matsuka finishes speaking. "Then it was that easy. Deciding what to do." He's still for a moment, and in that moment he looks almost...wistful.
Then he does flick a glance back at Matsuka. "You're so willing to take a menial job like that. No wonder you ended up like this."
* * *
Matsuka stops short when Keith does, and watches his face closely, brows drawing together in concern as his vague worries suddenly crystallize into something more immediate. It had not really occurred to him that Keith would not have a plan, would be at a loss without Grandmother's guidance - for Matsuka, Keith is the one who gives orders, and now he's having second thoughts about mentioning to Keith the other reason that he'd thought it would be a good idea for him to take a humble job as an office assistant, so as to leave Keith free to decide on a course of action.
That last comment brings a shamed flush to Matsuka's face, and he looks hastily away, but its not enough to drive these other thoughts from his mind. "It was Bakura's suggestion," he murmurs. "I don't really mind, since I'm used to it anyway..."
He'd wondered before, worried over it a little, but now he's certain of it - Keith needs something to do.
* * *
Just before the shame comes to Matsuka's face, Keith has an instant to catch sight of his previous expression. And he doesn't like it. It's almost as if Matsuka has had some insight into Keith himself, and that's never right. It's not supposed to be that way. Keith is intended to be a closed book to him of all people.
His expression shuts down, going from contempt to blankness. "You're suited to it," he says in neutral tones. Then his mouth twists into what's almost a frown. "Matsuka. Forget I said anything. It's not important."
* * *
"Keith--" Worry compels Matsuka to speak up earnestly when discretion might have kept him silent instead. "With everything that's going on, wouldn't it be better to focus on protecting this place instead of on the Mu? You said yourself that we're too divided - I might not be able to do anything, but the police could probably use your help, or one of the other groups that's been organized--"
* * *
They're not far enough along the path that a physical blow wouldn't be heard, wouldn't draw attention. It's something that Keith has had to keep in mind here in the City: he needs to pick and choose when he can discipline Matsuka. For now, he simply stops short, grabs hold of Matsuka's shoulder, drags him up close, and lifts him a little by the collar. "There's no point in trying to protect your fellow monsters," he says. "Regardless of what happens here, I'll eliminate them and you when we return." For a moment, a shadow of expression flickers in his eye--impossible to tell just what it is. Not doubt. He's still not capable of doubt. Maybe wonder. "You know that, and you're still giving me suggestions." It doesn't make any sense. In a situation like this, where Matsuka isn't nearly as isolated as Keith would prefer him to be, Matsuka should be growing closer to turning on him, not growing closer to him. He shouldn't have to do anything--only wait for Matsuka to get enough courage to strike him down--
Abruptly, he drops Matsuka. "You're pathetic," he says. "Even for a Mu."
* * *
All that Matsuka can do is cringe, pulled up onto his toes and dangling helplessly from Keith's grip on his collar, his eyes wide with dismay and fear. His hand comes up briefly in a short, abortive gesture, but he stops himself before he can actually dare so much as to reach for Keith's wrist - no. Bad idea.
He staggers a little when that grip is abruptly released, but manages to keep his feet, and his hand flattens against his own chest as he tries to steady himself, breath leaving him in an uneven little shudder. "I'm sorry," he murmurs again, unhappily.
* * *
Keith makes a small noise of contempt. "You're apologizing." He catches a wisp of incredulity in him at the notion, then erases it. It's too close to doubt. He looks down at Matsuka in silence for a moment longer, then turns to start walking again.
After a while, he speaks again. Now it's on a subject completely normal. "What did you get for lunch?" As if he hadn't just dangled Matsuka helplessly in front of him.
* * *
"I just..." But Matsuka's voice is a barely-audible whisper, and he doesn't finish the thought aloud as Keith turns away to start walking again, just trails along in cowed silence.
I just want to help.
"Ah--" At the question he looks up, brow still furrowed anxiously. "It's a gyro," he says. "We had Greek today."
* * *
Keith doesn't respond to that whisper. It's an attempt at communication, not an acknowledgment of orders or harmless comment. Such things cannot be encouraged. The explanation of lunch, though, slows Keith down, and he turns slightly to give Matsuka a puzzled frown. "Greek?" He's been doing research here, but as far as he knows 'Greek' just refers to a nationality and a kind of mythology (the kind Pandora's box comes from). He doesn't see how it applies to food as well.
* * *
"That's what Bakura said, anyhow." Matsuka has mostly given up trying to keep up with the different styles of food that Bakura seems intent on introducing him to; sometimes he recognizes things, sometimes he doesn't. "It's good."
Matsuka has yet to sort out the puzzle of just what Keith likes to eat, or if he in fact takes any notice of his food at all beyond the fact that it keeps him from starving, but the complete absence of input from Keith on the subject hasn't yet convinced him to stop trying.
* * *
The truth is, Keith has yet to puzzle out what Keith likes to eat. It hasn't occurred to him yet to think of food as something other than a necessary nourishment, but he has started noticing how different it can be here. And there's the matter of that sushi Safeguard told him about...he'll have to look into that, simply because Safeguard told him about it. "We'll see." He comes to the end of the path and starts back up for the sidewalk.
* * *
"...of course," Matsuka says in a murmur. It's all he dares to say right now, over-conscious of having stepped a little too close to some line that he doesn't entirely understand but knows he can't risk pushing too far.