a man who loves a diamond.

[oleanderknife]

Hasibe is still not quite used to spending her days in the house, though she's taken to long walks around the neighborhood in the morning to occupy herself--it's not as though she has nothing to do, but she will definitely be happier when she is working more consistently, no matter what path she chooses.

Comments

[oleanderknife]

"Oh, it is something of a compliment, considering I haven't lost control like that since I was a teenager. At least it doesn't happen when I go under, though, that'd be a mess." She nudges him gently, reaching back with one hand to push her hair away from her neck and shoulders--she's worn it this long for ages, so it doesn't really bother her, per se, but it does require adjustment often. When it's down like this, people tend to stare, but she usually keeps it back, anyway, even though Henry has never asked her to (Hyde's demands aside); it's something she likes keeping for just the two of them, as noted elsewhere.

"You are more than welcome to pin me down if I even consider getting up within the next half hour," Hasi says, sunnily, so...there is that. Their relationship is an odd one, full of permissions-to-take-control, but those are the rules that keep certain acts of lawlessness between them safe. "Then at some point I will make dinner. But I still won't put real pants on."

Apparently doing things around the house in underwear and one of his t-shirts is how she prefers to spend her time when they're alone and not immediately entwined, like right now. Not having very close neighbors is awesome in this respect.

[beingtwofold]

This is exactly why Henry has taken the careful precaution of spending the last twenty years or so collecting an enormous number of t-shirts in various stages of entropy--all right, it really isn't, but it does certainly seem to be coming in extraordinarily useful, as there are very few little everyday things he likes as much as Hasibe in his clothing, even if he complains venomlessly about it all the time.

Because they're trolls. And this is not behavior to which he is intrinsically inclined, so only a handful of people can bring that out of him, her most of all. Which is an excellent litmus test for most of his life, actually.

"That's so accommodating of you," he deadpans, nuzzling her hair, owing to its general existence and how he actually has noticed it's up most of the time otherwise, but they haven't discussed it because--he knows why, and it's not necessary to always be pulling apart what Hyde's motivation for things was. And speaking of odd (or obvious) permissions, "Can I just pin you because I want to? I promise not to exacerbate my injury."

Yes. His 'injury.'

[oleanderknife]

"Whenever you like," she tells him, fondly, "you don't have to ask."

So there is that. They read each other well enough that she feels comfortable giving him that permission broadly, and furthermore they have a safeword on which they can rely; he knows her. Hasibe digs her fingertips into his hipbone, casually, hand reaching low, smile skewing playful and more than a little bit challenging. She is sort of tired out, now, but it's the muscular tiredness that comes from exertion, not real exhaustion, and it is abating. Consequently: more trolling her boyfriend, apparently.

"Besides, I have to make sure you're in a very good mood for our guests on Thursday. Being your most social self."

She should like, tell him who all is going to be attending this small shindig, but the guest list is somewhat malleable, at present. It's basically 'whoever she can coerce into coming'.

[beingtwofold]

Their safeword is 'yeti,' and this is being noted here for no other reason than the fact that it is great, and should be frequently repeated. Out of context, odds are they haven't used it as such yet.

Meanwhile, Henry mock-groans in a state of mostly facetious agony, rolling away from her to drape an arm over his face, once she is ...done with her physical trolling, although presumably it will resume momentarily. "You know even my most social self would rather hide at the back of a closet than help host a party," which is what this is, "but for you, and because it's at our house, I will be on my best behavior, only retreating to closets when absolutely necessary."

Although usefully he won't get as overwhelmed as he might have until recently, but even Hyde didn't really like crowds--the issue there, however, was that he was so scornful of most people, and Henry genuinely enjoys the ones they'll be having, at least the ones he knows. Emily throws him a little, but he will manage.

More in the moment: having been given blanket permission and apparently feeling the need to be rewarded in some way for like, agreeing to be around other people (not really), he does flip back over, what would be too quickly if she wasn't probably used to it by now, pressing her down into the bed with the weight of his hips and hands on her wrists. "And you say that now, but--are you sure? What if you're on the phone, is it all right then? What if you're studying?"

Which he ...assumes she will be, lines, or schoolwork or whatever; he has faith in her.

[oleanderknife]

Hasi did, to a degree, see that coming, so when Henry pins her down she smiles up at him, pleased with herself--but she struggles just a little like she's testing his grip, not too much, but like the weight of him pleases her, too. She tips her chin back, throat exposed, eyes flashing fire and promise--and she just says, "I'm sure."

This apparently warrants further elaboration, but it takes a few moments, because she likes simply looking him in the eye and watching his expression. The tiny nuances between them are fascinating to her regardless, but when they are situated this way she tends to pay especially close attention. "It's all right then. But you will have to endure my informing my caller, possibly via shouting, that my boyfriend has decided he'd prefer me on my back or stomach underneath him, and I'll call back later. So choose wisely, but I leave the choice up to you."

So serene, this declaration.

[beingtwofold]

Henry is, in positioning like this, most obviously not what he once was: most changes are internal, and she can doubtless see those too (the way he carries himself, the way he smiles, everything in varying shades of a little--and sometimes more so--twisted), but some are physical: his eyes are darker, and although this is perhaps less obvious when they're ....this degree of horizontal, it's been noted that he's taller, but not broader, lean and spared down for efficiency of movement, like wire strung out of steel.

When she struggles he lets her, although he doesn't ease up out of the watchfulness always in him, dual gauging himself as much as her. That wasn't so much there before either, but he can never really let his guard all the way down, especially not with her. That might be a regret, but it's necessary right now, and maybe always. Still, even if he couldn't tell before how she was feeling (and he can, it's not exactly a Rubik's cube of complexity here), she is playful enough verbally that he can laugh, into her throat, and ...then bite it some, since it's there.

"I'll save my inclination to have you underneath me for your most important calls, then." This is such a lie. "Otherwise it'll become routine, and you'll be bored with me in no time."

...fffft.

[oleanderknife]

Sometimes she does wish he could more thoroughly express that with her--that she weren't so breakable--but at the same time she thinks he loves the ways she is fragile, the ways she folds and sighs and becomes glass in his hands, and furthermore the reason he has to watch himself would exist if there weren't such a significant discrepancy in physical strength. But she wishes she could help him let go even more, all the same. That said, she knows that if that does happen more often, now is probably too soon, since they're still getting their bearings, so Hasibe just grins up at the ceiling when Henry presses his teeth to her throat.

"Never," she says, with visceral certainty, "I wasn't kidding when I said 'forever,' you know."

It occurs to her that is something of a huge step, saying that, although she only thinks of it in terms of emotional commitment. "I realize that is crazy soon to say, but--we do everything by our own terms, anyway. And if you interrupt any phone conversations of mine, I will laugh really hard if it's when my dad calls me for Cejna Qurbane."

[beingtwofold]

Henry mostly loves that she trusts him enough to be fragile in these circumstances, which is not the same as weakness--that's inherent, and she isn't--fragility is more of a choice, especially when it's partially a state of mind she has had very little opportunity to allow herself. Meanwhile he has considered 'forever' in slightly more pragmatic terms, owing to how that both comes easily to him in regards to her as well as the existent fact that they've made some pretty significant investments together; there's a reason he didn't give more thought toward renting a place, because when people say they'd die for each other they don't usually have to mean literally, and after that, just staying alive together is equally better and much more complicated.

But, as she notes, they do all right with complicated on their own terms. "I know you weren't, I was teasing. I'm sorry." And she knew the former; he expresses as much anyway because he does take the concept seriously. "I wasn't making the comparison to oxygen in jest either, for the record, except that breathing is something most people take for granted since they don't have to think about it, or be grateful they have the ability, and I am grateful--all the time, which you can tell because I say things like this."

And manages to only feel mildly like a poet in love, or something equally silly. "Do you want me to meet your dad, on an utterly disparate subject?"

The subject of his own paternal figure can ...come in a minute here, as it sort of always does, loomingly.

[oleanderknife]

"I didn't take it too hard, I just--I don't know," she laughs a little, at herself, "I take any opportunity to remind you how much I love you, because I can."

That disparate subject strikes her, and she takes a second to articulate how she feels about it, though her answer does occur to her immediately. This seems like a necessary part of being together, of having their relationship--and furthermore a part of her kind of...wants to show Henry off, like look, I got a good person to fall in love with me to her dad. Because there are some issues there, as Henry may surmise by her answer: "Yes, definitely. I haven't actually seen him face-to-face since I was a teenager, but...uh, did you know I have step-siblings? The boys probably don't even remember me. I'd like you to meet him, though, and my stepmother, I'm just...trying to express how it's complicated. And failing, I think."

[beingtwofold]

"You've mentioned, but we don't talk much about either family." It's not an accusation, just fact: there are certain points where just because they can talk about sore subjects doesn't mean that they necessarily should, or that it's always beneficial. Sometimes poking at scars is cathartic, sometimes it's not.

In this case though, it does have that element of necessity to it. "On which subject I'll go see my dad Thursday before everyone gets here, and at some point soon I'd like it if you went with me, but maybe at a time when you aren't cooking for the entire city."

She isn't, but the point stands! He uh, gets off of her and whatnot, so they can discuss these things like rational adults and not teenagers who are jumping one another at any possible point. Not that these things are necessarily so separate, with these two. "And I hope it's clear that's not a reflection on what I think you can handle, it's just--I find it stressful and depressing, and I'm used to that environment."

And he does have to make these visits with a somewhat different attitude now; sorry, dad, I thought I could save you, but I can't. He does not actually mention this, it's implicit and they're talking about her.

[oleanderknife]

Although they are no longer horizontal on the bed--she rises and fusses with her hair as she listens to him--she does want to meet his dad, and although going in to see Henry's father is more personal than the capacity in which she originally intended to work in institutions like that, she thinks she's got to steel herself, somewhat. "Next time you go after Thanksgiving, I'll come with you. And we'll figure out when my father can come to town, or more likely we can go to South Carolina, but that probably won't be for a while, and he'll...wonder."

She tucks herself into Henry's side, giving his arm a squeeze. Hasi knows it is really hard on him to have to accept that he can't fix his father's illness, that some things (like inner darkness, like sickness) must be accepted and not cut out, but there isn't a lot to say about it. She hopes that if he does want to talk he won't internalize, and she often reminds him that he can and should talk about these things, but it isn't always necessary or the best idea, no.

An explanation for her own uncharacteristic hesitance regarding her father is forthcoming, in the fashion of a roundabout story, since she likes to tell those: "When I was a kid, before he left and even after--I was about eleven, um...he and my mom fought a lot, and I think he always felt like I was more her kid. One time...I think I must have been fifteen, he came over to talk to her about something legal--she was being difficult--and this dog got hit by a car outside, and the car itself crashed, but the owner was okay. The dog wasn't. I went outside and held onto the dog and got motor oil all up one leg and on my shorts and the dog's muddy paws on my shirt and it just--died."

She's quiet for a few seconds. "And I sort of...I could feel it, when it happened. I couldn't stop crying. And my mom just knew to leave it alone, but my dad, he tried to make me feel better, he said, 'it's just a dog, and he probably didn't feel a thing.' It was the first time I'd seen him since he left, and he left again when that didn't work, and went back to his other family, his new one, and it was just...abundantly clear to me that while it wasn't anyone's fault, I didn't fit with or belong with him; I couldn't even really blame him for finding something better. It was healthier for him. Less stress."

Hasibe looks at her hands folded by her knees, at her manicure and her fingertips. "After she died he basically just let me do whatever I wanted. He knew that he was supposed to do something for me, he was obligated, but he didn't really want to, and it was easy to just...sidestep something I never wanted to talk about anyway because I was so self-assured, everyone said I was smart enough and mature enough, I 'practically raised myself'. So I went to Brandeis, and on summer break, I told him I was doing porn, and it was like the perfect weapon. He didn't have to make excuses anymore. It was a legitimate reason for not having to try to force a connection that wasn't there; I was eighteen, last I saw him, after my freshman year, and ever since then we have developed this schedule of fifteen minute calls on holidays and birthdays. It's easy, and it meets obligation."

There's another pause.

"I know all of this because I picked it up off objects in the house, off his psyche. There's nothing quite like being able to read your father's mind to know he prefers his new children, the ones not even blood related to him, to you. But I don't blame him, because they were easy to love. My mother and I weren't--too complicated, too messy, we did not fit. So...I do really want you to meet him, because you should, and because it's right, but we won't see much of him. And I'm okay with that."

She brings one knee up to her chest, resting her chin on it.

"So...dads. That is mine."

[beingtwofold]

There aren't words for a lot of what feels necessary, here, Henry's reaction is as messy as all the information she's imparting, by the same token--there is so much in there that he's never experienced and doesn't understand, but he does get, immediately, why 'it's just a dog' wouldn't have been comforting, and it hits him sort of sideways that he's known her for a little under three months, and he knows that, whereas Hasi's father hadn't picked it up in fifteen years. Maybe it was what would have comforted him and that was all he knew how to impart, but still.

He sits up and loops his arms over her shoulders, chin on her hair. It's--nice, at times like this, to be longer in torso than she is, because regardless of whether or not it's always relevant, it does lend him the sense that he can surround her, if not protect her--because he can't protect her from what's already happened. "You are, actually, remarkably easy to love, I want that on file somewhere."

Maybe like, signed by a notary or something, Henry, what. "And--your family is supposed to love you even when you aren't, so we're our own family now, okay? It's not just for holidays, it's forever, and I love you because you're complicated, not in spite of it."

[oleanderknife]

Hasibe leans into him immediately when he wraps his arms around her, eyes closing for the duration of what he says. Even after, Hasi just--breathes in, accepting this, the safety of this. At eighteen or nineteen or twenty or even twenty-one, she was not able to articulate what exactly went awry with her relationship with her father; the distance has helped, somewhat, but even so, even with this awareness, there are parts of her that blame herself, that resent him, and she wishes she could let go of all of that. But that will always be easier said than done, and what is best right now is just curling into Henry, letting herself stay in this position of vulnerability instead of immediately tamping down the wall like he noted she does sometimes in his kitchen what seems like eons ago, though it was only months.

"Thank you," she says, a little helplessly, "I am...bad at being exposed this way. But you always take care of me. And I love you; I will never be able to say that enough."

Of all things, he is what she is most grateful for, in accordance with the holiday.

"I belong to you--with you--and that's what I need. I'm lucky I have you, given everything that's happened, but...just in general, too."

[beingtwofold]

"I'm not going to get tired of hearing it," he murmurs, excessively dry and absurdly fond, as is his custom. "And I thought--that goes double for you, or something along those lines, but I think if we descend into an argument regarding who's luckier, we'll actually be served papers by some government agency whose job it is to prevent undue ridiculousness in these matters."

Not that undue ridiculousness is ever prevented around here for very long.

Levity is easily applied to this, but ...Henry is not sure luck has much weight here, as he's mentioned before. As a scientist, even one who's seen and done and been the things he has, such a leap of faith is fairly impressive. If she is amenable, he will lean them both backwards again; another ten minutes and they should stop obsessing over one another and go like, have dinner and do work and other life things, but that's an entire ten minutes from now. Anything could happen.

Besides, it's easier make 'cuddling' a full contact sport from this angle. "And I think you're getting pretty good at talking about you, for what it's worth. That was definitely the most I've heard at a stretch. But we have--forever, you said, if we want, so you have time."

[oleanderknife]

Hasibe has zero objections to returning to a reclining position, particularly given her company; she adjusts to situate herself against him, eyes closed. Another thing she missed in the span of steadily increasing madness that was Hyde's release into the world was feeling at peace--even when she and Henry were together, sometimes it would creep up in the back of her mind, the reminder that she was being tugged in two directions. But now that's settled, and now Henry is Hyde is Henry and she is here.

"We do," she agrees, lacing fingers through his, "we have time."

And she is not taking that for granted, ever.