So much for that "freedom" thing.
WHO: Keith (motherloaded) and Matsuka (coffeematsuka)
WHEN: Friday-ish?
WHERE: Mostly the MAC.
WARNINGS: Keith being an abusive jerkface like usual.
SUMMARY: That whole love spell thing didn't work out, and Keith is tired of not having Matsuka conveniently nearby to order around.
Once, Keith would have simply sent a thought in the direction of the nearest apartment: Matsuka. Come here. And in fact, several times during the pain-filled, bitter week that follows the breaking of the love spell, he rises from his brooding position at his desk and compulsively does just that. Then he remembers that Matsuka is no longer there, and he has to stamp down on a flood of treacherous emotions: impatience, disgust, disappointment, jealousy(, loneliness). Eventually, he contents himself with the notion that he does not want Matsuka to see him like this, his right arm red and blistered, his face striped with gashes. It might inspire pity. That would be unthinkable.
Finally, though, he decides he's healed enough. Not to go back to his job just yet--the bandages are still too obvious, still need too frequent replacing. But he can't tolerate Matsuka being on his own any longer. He'll risk the pity instead of the independence.
And so Matsuka receives a text message instead of a thought: Matsuka. You move back here today.
--
It's not that he's forgotten - but the more days that have passed without incident, the more Matsuka has begun to think (hope) (fear) that he won't hear from Keith again. And that's all right, he has been telling himself. It's better for everybody this way.
So when he receives the text message, he sits and looks at it for a long while, not really sure at all what to think.
Did something happen? he texts back at last.
--
Keith sits at his desk and stares at the phone. His right arm, the blisters now starting to fade, is bandaged from the wrist to the elbow; gauze covers his left cheek. Finally, still expressionless, keeping his mind a careful blank in case Matsuka tries to reach out, he texts back: Explanations later.
--
All right.
It's all Matsuka can think to reply. After he sends it, he sits for a good while longer, worried now, and wondering what arrangements he's going to need to make to cancel his lease of the new apartment and how he'll explain it to everyone.
For the time being, he puts the most immediate necessities into a bag and starts for the MAC, with only a brief, wistful pause at the elevator on his way out.
--
Keith knew what the answer would be, of course. It's always the same. It relaxes him somehow to know he can count on Matsuka for that, although he would hardly admit it. So instead of admitting anything, he waits at the door, completely expressionless, no explanation of his injuries--or the sheet of plastic over his broken window--in his steely gaze.
--
The sight of the damage startles Matsuka enough that he drops his bag, and forgetting himself for a moment he actually starts to reach towards Keith before he catches himself doing it and stops awkwardly short. "Keith! You're - what happened?" 'Are you all right,' he wants to ask, but Keith wouldn't answer a question like that and anyway the answer is always 'no'.
--
Just the reaching is enough. More than enough. It earns Matsuka a sharp glare. Keith's eyes, at least, are untouched, and they cut as deeply as ever. Then he turns his head, just a small gesture, but one full of contempt, one that says without needing to speak, you couldn't reach me if you tried. Although perhaps there's an element of defensiveness to that, too. After all, someone did reach Keith...and look how it ended. Proving him right yet again.
"The girl. Terra. She's a monster. You would feel welcome in her company alone." A terrible suggestion, one that could only hurt Matsuka as it's uttered and hurt Keith if it's followed. Therefore: perfect. "I was not myself," he adds, curtly, by way of further explanation. "I am now."
--
Matsuka flinches reflexively; Keith calculated his words and gestures to hurt, and hurt they do. "That..." If he were thinking more rationally he'd know better than to say it, but thinking rationally is not often Matsuka's strong suit, especially not where Keith is concerned, and the time on his own has made him careless. He looks unhappily away. "I knew already."
--
It's very quick. One moment, Matsuka is in the threshold of the apartment, not yet inside. The next moment, Keith's uninjured arm darts out, his hand snags Matsuka by the collar, and the younger man is dragged sharply inside. Keith slams the door shut with one foot and does not let Matsuka go. Instead, he cuts into him with a stare. "What did you know?"
For some, the power of that stare might be lessened by the gauze, by the bandages, by the obviously wounded state of its bearer. Odds are, Matsuka is not among those.
--
Too late Matsuka realizes his mistake; he lets out a strangled yelp as Keith hauls him in through the doorway, and unable to escape Keith's stare, he can only squeeze his eyes shut and try to turn his face away, for whatever good that will do. "You asked me what her mind was like," he gasps, miserably. "Do you remember?"
--
No good at all. Keith lets go of Matsuka's collar long enough to grab his chin and turn his face back to him. He doesn't go so far as to pry Matsuka's eyelids open, but he probably would if he had an extra hand. And if that wouldn't involve a little too much touching. As it is, the touch on his chin is enough to let emotions through. Anger and disdain, not quite directed, simply seething bitterly under the surface. Pain, both current and remembered, from the scratches on his face and the blistered burns on his arm.
Then he lets go. "I remember. You should have told me then."
--
Set free, Matsuka slumps back against the closed door and tries to steady his shaky breathing a little. He still can't bear to meet Keith's eyes; instead he hangs his head unhappily. He'd thought he was doing the right thing, but somehow it all went wrong. "You seemed happy," is all he can murmur by way of an excuse.
--
At the word happy, Keith takes a sharp step back. "It isn't important for me to be happy," he says, with absolute sincerity. Perhaps too much of it, even. With the memory of Keith's pain fresh for both of them, it's far too obvious that this isn't simply a matter of putting duty over personal happiness. "What have I been doing these past months? Neglecting my duty. Allowing another monster too close to my heart."
That, surely, was a slip. He would never consciously imply that he'd let Matsuka close to his heart.
"Matsuka. The next apartment is still empty. You'll take up your position as my aide again." He levels another stare at Matsuka. Eventually, the Mu will have to turn and look at his eyes. Eventually. "Prove to me you still deserve it." But rather than wait for Matsuka to meet his gaze, he flicks it away dismissively. "If you ever did."
--
Matsuka's timing is never quite right. He lifts his eyes to Keith's face just in time to see Keith looking dismissively away, and nearly flinches again.
For a moment he finds himself looking at the plastic over the broken window instead, and there's a second or two in which he almost dares to ask Keith if he's really staying here with the wall like this and the weather getting colder, but at the last moment he can't quite bring himself to speak up. In the end, he just hangs his head again and whispers, "...Yes."
WHEN: Friday-ish?
WHERE: Mostly the MAC.
WARNINGS: Keith being an abusive jerkface like usual.
SUMMARY: That whole love spell thing didn't work out, and Keith is tired of not having Matsuka conveniently nearby to order around.
Once, Keith would have simply sent a thought in the direction of the nearest apartment: Matsuka. Come here. And in fact, several times during the pain-filled, bitter week that follows the breaking of the love spell, he rises from his brooding position at his desk and compulsively does just that. Then he remembers that Matsuka is no longer there, and he has to stamp down on a flood of treacherous emotions: impatience, disgust, disappointment, jealousy(, loneliness). Eventually, he contents himself with the notion that he does not want Matsuka to see him like this, his right arm red and blistered, his face striped with gashes. It might inspire pity. That would be unthinkable.
Finally, though, he decides he's healed enough. Not to go back to his job just yet--the bandages are still too obvious, still need too frequent replacing. But he can't tolerate Matsuka being on his own any longer. He'll risk the pity instead of the independence.
And so Matsuka receives a text message instead of a thought: Matsuka. You move back here today.
--
It's not that he's forgotten - but the more days that have passed without incident, the more Matsuka has begun to think (hope) (fear) that he won't hear from Keith again. And that's all right, he has been telling himself. It's better for everybody this way.
So when he receives the text message, he sits and looks at it for a long while, not really sure at all what to think.
Did something happen? he texts back at last.
--
Keith sits at his desk and stares at the phone. His right arm, the blisters now starting to fade, is bandaged from the wrist to the elbow; gauze covers his left cheek. Finally, still expressionless, keeping his mind a careful blank in case Matsuka tries to reach out, he texts back: Explanations later.
--
All right.
It's all Matsuka can think to reply. After he sends it, he sits for a good while longer, worried now, and wondering what arrangements he's going to need to make to cancel his lease of the new apartment and how he'll explain it to everyone.
For the time being, he puts the most immediate necessities into a bag and starts for the MAC, with only a brief, wistful pause at the elevator on his way out.
--
Keith knew what the answer would be, of course. It's always the same. It relaxes him somehow to know he can count on Matsuka for that, although he would hardly admit it. So instead of admitting anything, he waits at the door, completely expressionless, no explanation of his injuries--or the sheet of plastic over his broken window--in his steely gaze.
--
The sight of the damage startles Matsuka enough that he drops his bag, and forgetting himself for a moment he actually starts to reach towards Keith before he catches himself doing it and stops awkwardly short. "Keith! You're - what happened?" 'Are you all right,' he wants to ask, but Keith wouldn't answer a question like that and anyway the answer is always 'no'.
--
Just the reaching is enough. More than enough. It earns Matsuka a sharp glare. Keith's eyes, at least, are untouched, and they cut as deeply as ever. Then he turns his head, just a small gesture, but one full of contempt, one that says without needing to speak, you couldn't reach me if you tried. Although perhaps there's an element of defensiveness to that, too. After all, someone did reach Keith...and look how it ended. Proving him right yet again.
"The girl. Terra. She's a monster. You would feel welcome in her company alone." A terrible suggestion, one that could only hurt Matsuka as it's uttered and hurt Keith if it's followed. Therefore: perfect. "I was not myself," he adds, curtly, by way of further explanation. "I am now."
--
Matsuka flinches reflexively; Keith calculated his words and gestures to hurt, and hurt they do. "That..." If he were thinking more rationally he'd know better than to say it, but thinking rationally is not often Matsuka's strong suit, especially not where Keith is concerned, and the time on his own has made him careless. He looks unhappily away. "I knew already."
--
It's very quick. One moment, Matsuka is in the threshold of the apartment, not yet inside. The next moment, Keith's uninjured arm darts out, his hand snags Matsuka by the collar, and the younger man is dragged sharply inside. Keith slams the door shut with one foot and does not let Matsuka go. Instead, he cuts into him with a stare. "What did you know?"
For some, the power of that stare might be lessened by the gauze, by the bandages, by the obviously wounded state of its bearer. Odds are, Matsuka is not among those.
--
Too late Matsuka realizes his mistake; he lets out a strangled yelp as Keith hauls him in through the doorway, and unable to escape Keith's stare, he can only squeeze his eyes shut and try to turn his face away, for whatever good that will do. "You asked me what her mind was like," he gasps, miserably. "Do you remember?"
--
No good at all. Keith lets go of Matsuka's collar long enough to grab his chin and turn his face back to him. He doesn't go so far as to pry Matsuka's eyelids open, but he probably would if he had an extra hand. And if that wouldn't involve a little too much touching. As it is, the touch on his chin is enough to let emotions through. Anger and disdain, not quite directed, simply seething bitterly under the surface. Pain, both current and remembered, from the scratches on his face and the blistered burns on his arm.
Then he lets go. "I remember. You should have told me then."
--
Set free, Matsuka slumps back against the closed door and tries to steady his shaky breathing a little. He still can't bear to meet Keith's eyes; instead he hangs his head unhappily. He'd thought he was doing the right thing, but somehow it all went wrong. "You seemed happy," is all he can murmur by way of an excuse.
--
At the word happy, Keith takes a sharp step back. "It isn't important for me to be happy," he says, with absolute sincerity. Perhaps too much of it, even. With the memory of Keith's pain fresh for both of them, it's far too obvious that this isn't simply a matter of putting duty over personal happiness. "What have I been doing these past months? Neglecting my duty. Allowing another monster too close to my heart."
That, surely, was a slip. He would never consciously imply that he'd let Matsuka close to his heart.
"Matsuka. The next apartment is still empty. You'll take up your position as my aide again." He levels another stare at Matsuka. Eventually, the Mu will have to turn and look at his eyes. Eventually. "Prove to me you still deserve it." But rather than wait for Matsuka to meet his gaze, he flicks it away dismissively. "If you ever did."
--
Matsuka's timing is never quite right. He lifts his eyes to Keith's face just in time to see Keith looking dismissively away, and nearly flinches again.
For a moment he finds himself looking at the plastic over the broken window instead, and there's a second or two in which he almost dares to ask Keith if he's really staying here with the wall like this and the weather getting colder, but at the last moment he can't quite bring himself to speak up. In the end, he just hangs his head again and whispers, "...Yes."