02.50 - week two, saturday

[afflictionmods]

W2 SATURDAY

Like last Saturday, everyone will get an announcement on their tablets; this time, the announcement is preceded with a bell of some sort before Lorelei appears on the screen again.

"Good morning, everyone. This is an announcement to let you know that today's lesson will take place starting at 8:15 tonight. Again, today's lesson will be starting at 8:15. Please meet at the lower campus exit near the lecture by 8:00pm; Florence will be waiting for you there.

If you have a bag for some snacks and, perhaps, an item you can use for self-defense in the case of an emergency, please arrive with those things on you. We will provide you with an overview of what to expect when you arrive at 8pm.

Thank you."

The alert ends.

You have the day to prepare, ask each other what the hell is happening -- Florence and Lorelei do not seem to be available, strangely enough. There's a lot to take in with the information you have now. But before you know it... night falls.

FULL NAV

(CODE)

Comments

[magicam]

[Aches and pains and stings and knowing but not knowing settles into an odd, disconnected numbness. Distantly, there's the realization that it's all too much. That he's feeling overwhelmed, along with everything else.

And then Idia's hand is on his arm.

It's not a trespass like it was before. It's warm, now, after everything. The touch is light enough that if he wanted to, he could shrug it off and have the confidence that Idia would actually let him.

He'd lashed out, and Idia reassured him in return, not with platitudes, but with an acknowledgement that he would have done something similar.

It's more of a comfort than it has any right to be, and finally, finally, the tears start to fall in big drops that make his vision blur and his eyes sting, even as he hurriedly rubs at his eyes with his sleeves to try and force it away.

There's being seen, and then there's being Known, and if this small bit of affection is enough to make him sob, then Idia is one step closer to Knowing him, much as that ship may have already sailed.]

W-we're really not, are we? [A sniff, a hitch of breathing, and finally, at the quiet assurance that Idia won't tell anyone about this? He breaks. He doubles over entirely, allows himself to just sob, because even now there's that worry, that fear of being known, that that's the final push to topple the remaining shreds of his composure.

It's not cute. It's raw and open and before long there's a hand clutching far too tightly at the hem of Idia's hoodie in some feeble reach to reciprocate some kind of connection.]

[ignihidden]

[There had been delight at the idea that Cater was hiding something. Somewhere down there was something as spiteful and pitiable as he was. Despite that, though, he had gone two whole weeks without telling anyone. And, in fact, for the one person he told, there were several people he had obfuscated to: no, Cater was exactly as he appeared. He could tell himself it was because of their deal. He could say it was because the two of them promised to be thorns in each other's side if the deal was broken.]

[but for everything he doesn't understand, he understands the need to hide away from everything in those moments]

[Cater's crying. Would he ever have imagined this before? Maybe he could vaguely imagine the Cater from two weeks ago crying because the line got cut-off for the Lounge's specialty plate. It would be over something trite. It would be contained and controlled and cute. It's not. It's about as ugly as anytime he does it. Like he just had.]

[he withdraws his hand briefly to unzip his hoodie and shrug it off his shoulders]

[That warm hand rests over Cater's to get him to at least release the hem so he can flap it out and place it over the exposed parts of them. It was the blanket protecting them from the rest of the museum in their nook.]

... i- if we hear anyone coming, y- you can duck your head.

[It would be clear someone was hiding under the hoodie with Idia but it couldn't be proved who it was or if that person happened to have red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.]

[There's not a clear invitation to uncurl and latch on but, well, the way they're nestled in the corner Idia's chest is right there and it's completely free of bloodstains.]

[magicam]

[If he knew that Idia had obfuscated for his sake, well... he'd tell himself it was simply easier for Idia, too, to pretend he was only as he seemed. He doesn't have to care about him if all that he is is what he shows on the surface - there's nothing of substance to care about. Head like a bag of marshmallows, cute, sure, but mostly devoid of real substance.

That Cater could cry, too, sure. Idia was right, it'd be about something inane, some limited thing he missed out on, cute and calculated and photographed at just the right angle, in just the right lighting to elicit sympathy from whoever saw the post. Hashtag tragic.

His breath hitches harder when a hand settles over his own, and Idia just might feel a jolt of actual, desperate, fear through their bond, if only for a second or two. He knows he can't handle being pushed away, right now, even from someone who by all rights shouldn't actually care about him...

But says he does, for some reason.

The hoodie draped over him isn't a direct invitation to latch on, no, but the feeling at the thought of being made to let go was enough to take it as one anyway. He doesn't quite uncurl. He certainly doesn't really stop crying in the least. He does, however, rather unceremoniously crash into Idia's chest, wrap his arms around his waist, and cling as tightly as he possibly can in the slightly awkward position, while being utterly, emotionally exhausted.

If anyone came by, they'd know there was someone under there. They'd even know that someone was sobbing their eyes out. If they had a really sharp ear, they might recognize the voice sounds maybe sort of a little bit like Cater. But they couldn't prove it, so he just nods against Idia's chest. Sure, he'll duck his head. Sure, he'll let him watch over him, right now. Sure, he'll let him see just how pathetic he can be.

And sure, he'll still feel guilty about the feedback he knows Idia must be feeling.]

S-sorry... for being like this...

[ignihidden]

[It was one thing to logical assume that, given the freedom and privacy to, a person might latch on and cry. When it happens, though, Idia has a little moment of internal panic before it settles. It's just a few rapid thumps of his heart that settle down ever so slightly as Cater nestled himself into a position that works.]

[It's probably not comfortable, he thinks. After all, the softest part of him was probably the hoodie they were using as a blanket. Everything else about him was just skin and bones.]

[But it's not really like he feels the pain of awkward positioning, when the clear waves of emotional pain and the aches of wounds he caused keep washing over him. He shifts a bit to wrap his arm around Cater and rest a hand on his head.]

[Cater apologizes. There's one little sting that fades into everything they're feeling right now. More in control of his own thoughts, Idia can't help but wonder, what the heck is the right thing to say to that? Isn't that a high-level kind of thing to answer correctly? Should he say it's no big deal? No, no, clearly what they're going through is a big deal.]

... s- sorry I ruined your shirt?

[And cut a line down your chest? He moves his hand slightly to brush the hair underneath it.]

[magicam]

[The little jolt of panic is barely felt among everything else. It's not even clear whose emotions are whose at this point, despite the fact that Idia is still in better control of himself. So it's fine. They're... fine. Kind of.

The position isn't terribly comfortable, no, and his legs would hate him for it later, but for now? For now, it's fine. Idia's more comfortable than he believes of himself - in no small part because he's so skin and bones, because that's so distinctly Idia that it couldn't be anyone else... and he doesn't want anyone else, in this moment.

Try explaining that one, though. He sure won't be.

Slowly, steadily, the weight of the ghoul comes off his shoulders as it's replaced with the annoying, pounding headache that inevitably comes when you sob your eyes out, and Idia's hand brushing through his hair does little to help that. The soothing gesture does keep him grounded, though - enough to hear his returned apology.

It was definitely low-level. Awkward. Idia.

...Cute.

Cater's breath hitches a little, and while he hasn't stopped crying, he does laugh feebly at that being what Idia focused on.]

S'not cute anyway...

[He's still gonna stay hidden in clingy little brother mode for a while, though.]

[ignihidden]

[Someone probably could have done a better job. Still, someone wasn't the person who was given the job. What they just experiences couldn't fit into some easy narrative in Idia's head but he's at least willing to accept that, some way or another, they cleared the event. They were achy, wounded, and tearstained but they did it.]

[Cater laughs a little. Idia mentally calculates it as a "+1"]

Oh. [He thought the outfit still looked pretty alright on Cater. When you have a good-looking face, though, any clothes look better.]

... then, sorry for everything else...

[the manic crying and marking part, even if they had both "wanted" it in the moment. Despite being an apology, it doesn't sound desperate. It's an awkward apology handed out by a person who means it but has never considered how to convey it before in his life. The way he gently brushes through Cater's hair with his fingers probably has more thought put into it than any apology.]

[magicam]

[Right now, someone doing a better job just might have been brushed off as fake. Insincere. The awkward, not-quite fitting exchange between them wasn't a neat and tidy little narrative ending, setting up for a couple filler chapters and the next arc, but it was genuine. That was more important, right now, probably.]

It's...

[Well. It's not okay, everything hurts, he'll surely whine about it later, and they sure were an awful mess, even if they'd wanted it all in the moment, but...

He accepts it, anyway?]

Yeah... I know. I'm not... upset at you, or anything...

[His turn to be awkward, muttering into Idia's shirt.]

[ignihidden]

[If it was someone who had every incentive to like Cater, he'd simply feel like his trick worked. Instead, it was someone who had gotten close to the nasty side of him, admitted he probably shouldn't, and admitted he didn't even know why. It was about the most nonsense ending to a route there could be.]

[Since he apologized so idly, he wasn't expecting actual forgiveness. Cater's half-hearted attempt to do so means he's peeking down to the huddled mess under his arm to check.]

... eh, well, I want to say "you totally can be!" but...

[he glances up, out into the museum that's gotten quite damaged by all of their outraged and rampaging ghouls]

... p- probably we should save that for when we're safely back on campus.

[magicam]

[It's the most nonsense ending to a route, because it's not the ending to a route, Idia. (It's only week 2. It's a chapter break! Checkpoint, get! Ganbatte!)

And Idia's peeking down at him. Suddenly, there's a pang of self-consciousness, like he doesn't want to be seen immediately after ugly-crying his little heart out, but. Well.

He'll peek back up at him, too. Not letting go, though.]

Eeh... only if you're upset at me.

[They'd both deserve it... but... It didn't feel right.]

[ignihidden]

[What that a pang? It's hard to tell. It's another form of emotional pang hiding amongst all the rest of the aches they felt. Again, he doesn't keep their eyes locked for long. He doesn't intend to, like, stare at him.]

... eh... [he tilts his head and the mess of flaming blue hair moves slightly,]

... Right now... way too tired to think about it...

[he tilts a bit further, resting his head against Cater's]

Consider it... one BOGO argument ticket when we get back...

[magicam]

[Staring... bad. Cuddling is much better. Good job going with that option, instead, Idia.]

Totes don't wanna cash that one in, though...

[So, whether it's deserved or not... He's not planning on holding a grudge over this one.

No promises it won't come up in a self-loathing spiral argument in the future, though. Such is life.]