There's a part of me that'll always feel like it belongs to this place. All these memories, things that I tried to run away from but never really could. Landing here feels like coming home, but that doesn't mean it's a joyous occasion. I don't feel warm in my heart or any of that shit. Mostly, the place makes me feel tired. Old. Any worse, it makes me feel sad, because of all the things wasted here.
I really fuckin' wish Mom would just leave the place, go anywhere but that sad fucking house with all those bad memories.
"Yeah, I guess," I say, mouth twisting into a lopsided smile.
"You okay?" he asks, pausing as he pushes out of the pilot's seat, because Neil's smiling, sure, but there's something less simple behind it. He should know, probably, and if he had to guess what it's about he thinks he could make a good one, but part of him needs to ask anyway.
And in any case, they're just here to pick up a job. Load the cargo and go, head out for the markets on Oublie where he's been promised a good price for the ore. There doesn't have to be any lingering.
He nods. He only half gets it, but he gets enough of it. "We don't have to stay," he says, reaching down and catching Neil's wrist, half gently tugging and half just wanting to reassure. "Fuck, we don't have to do anything. Except be by the depot at the edge of town when they said, 'cause I don't got enough cred to fuel Florence up, otherwise."
He's got savings. Some. But he doesn't want to touch that. Maybe they've put off the fantasy of that perfect place together, and maybe he still has no idea what's going on with Hobbes, but he wants to keep the options open.
He closes a hand briefly around the back of Neil's neck, nodding into the kiss, feeling a faint twinge of regret as he does so. Neil's mother. His mother. Maybe it's like that for everyone, one way or another. There's always things you wish you could change.
"Every try and talk her into getting the fuck off it?" he asks, stepping away again and grabbing his jacket from where it's slung across the back of the seat. Even as he asks it, he knows: sometimes people just aren't that easy to budge.
"No, I hadn't thought of that before," I mutter dryly, rolling my eyes and giving him a look as I finally push to my feet. Grabbing my own jacket and sliding it on, I say, "Come on, let's go. I guess I'd be a pretty fuckin' shitty son if I didn't at least stop in and say hey."
And I want to see her. I hate having these long stretches of time where I'm not even sure she's okay. It's just that, that house seems so small and sad these days.
"Fuck you, I'm just asking," he says, giving Neil a light swat on the hip and heading into the corridor. He can already smell the dust. Fucking gets into everything, no matter what, but it's part of the experience.
He opens the hatch and the reddish light is momentarily uncomfortable as his eyes adjust. "Why does she stay?" Not that he can't think of a few reasons why someone might.
"'Cause she's fuckin' stubborn," I say with a shrug, squinting against the harsh Nanashi sun as I step through the hatch. "This is all she knows, man. I mean, all she used to talk about when I was a kid was gettin' us outta here, but she's not real good with change... This is all she really knows, you know?"
He nods, pausing, watching Neil move past him. He gets that too, he supposes. He'd never tried to get his mother to leave the cold little house on Oublie, and at least part of that had been a certainty that it was useless to try.
"You seem like you've got kind of a better handle on that," he says with a wry little smile, hand grazing Neil's hip as he moves forward. Because there's... moving in. And Hobbes. And everything that the past few weeks has brought with it.
"Oh yeah? What makes you say that?" I ask, returning that little twist of his lips with a smirk of my own, walking close enough to him that our shoulders brush every few steps.
Shit's changed a lot in the last few weeks, sure, but I think maybe I'll be okay as long as I get to hang onto the few things I think are important.
"You left," he says simply. He looks out ahead of them and at the settlement; here and there are people going about their business, collecting water from condensers, trading. A lot of people here could leave. You don't need much cred to jump a ship offworld. But it takes more than cred to do something like that, and most people are out here for a reason.
He shoots Neil another small smile. "You didn't tell me to fucking get lost when you coulda. Lots of things."
"Tellin' you to get lost would've been a pretty big fuckin' change," I point out, brow arched, 'cause I don't really know if my tendency to let guys fuck me over only to take 'em back is really that much of a virtue.
But whatever. None of that really matters anymore.
"Whatever," he laughs, scuffing his boots in the dust, gaze caught momentarily by a flat brown lizard as it scurries under a rock, tongue flicking. "Try and pay someone a fucking compliment, see where it gets you."
So he'd tried to get Neil to tell him that exact thing. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't glad he failed.
"That's a fucking lie." He snorts, lets his hands swing free, the dry air already tightening the skin. "I shower you in them. Your mom's gonna notice how much bigger your goddamn head is."
And if he's honest, he's looking forward to seeing her again. This isn't an in-law situation, he tells himself, not close--but his own mother is gone, and he'll never make that right. So this seems worth hanging onto.
I really fuckin' wish Mom would just leave the place, go anywhere but that sad fucking house with all those bad memories.
"Yeah, I guess," I say, mouth twisting into a lopsided smile.
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And in any case, they're just here to pick up a job. Load the cargo and go, head out for the markets on Oublie where he's been promised a good price for the ore. There doesn't have to be any lingering.
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"It doesn't feel the same anymore, goin' back to that house."
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He's got savings. Some. But he doesn't want to touch that. Maybe they've put off the fantasy of that perfect place together, and maybe he still has no idea what's going on with Hobbes, but he wants to keep the options open.
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"Seriously," I murmur against his lips, "I just kind of hate that she's still here. There's nothin' good about this fuckin' place."
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"Every try and talk her into getting the fuck off it?" he asks, stepping away again and grabbing his jacket from where it's slung across the back of the seat. Even as he asks it, he knows: sometimes people just aren't that easy to budge.
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And I want to see her. I hate having these long stretches of time where I'm not even sure she's okay. It's just that, that house seems so small and sad these days.
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He opens the hatch and the reddish light is momentarily uncomfortable as his eyes adjust. "Why does she stay?" Not that he can't think of a few reasons why someone might.
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"You seem like you've got kind of a better handle on that," he says with a wry little smile, hand grazing Neil's hip as he moves forward. Because there's... moving in. And Hobbes. And everything that the past few weeks has brought with it.
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Shit's changed a lot in the last few weeks, sure, but I think maybe I'll be okay as long as I get to hang onto the few things I think are important.
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He shoots Neil another small smile. "You didn't tell me to fucking get lost when you coulda. Lots of things."
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But whatever. None of that really matters anymore.
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So he'd tried to get Neil to tell him that exact thing. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't glad he failed.
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"I hear 'em so rarely, I can hardly tell."
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And if he's honest, he's looking forward to seeing her again. This isn't an in-law situation, he tells himself, not close--but his own mother is gone, and he'll never make that right. So this seems worth hanging onto.
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