idealism | Fuda #33 . reaching out [video]

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Fuda #33 . reaching out [video]

I don't suppose anyone here is good at chopping wood? And heaving lifting.

[If anyone thinks that's a loaded question: it definitely is. For a couple of days now he's been working on a campsite, and it's a lot more work - and a lot less fun - than he expected. It's great at keeping his mind off of less pleasant thoughts, however. Working out usually is.]

[Later in the day, he makes a post that he hasn't looked forward to. His little Luceti family has shrunk so much lately. Tsuzuki knows that it's for the best - that going home is good for them - but he still can't help missing them.]

Link's gone home. He's left letters for some people.

I just felt like some people ought to know.

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I don't want to have this conversation.

[Because it's hard. And shutting down is substantially more easy to accomplish.]

Me neither, but we need to.

[Because even if it hurts, it's the most honest Hisoka has been with him in ages, it feels like.]

[He folds back into himself, falling silent.]

Hisoka, you're very dear to me. But if I'm only making you uncomfortable, then you need to tell me.

[There are still no words. Hisoka's too internal for that. His sense of emotions and people and the world around him has always been a matter of instinct and feeling, passive literature and innate awareness. He's not often challenged to bend his awareness into something tangible with words.]

Edited 2012-05-07 19:55 (UTC)

[It was stupid of him to hope for something that straight-forward. He hadn't thought Hisoka would do this, though. He couldn't have done a better job of confusing him and hurting him at the same time.]

[He sighs and picks up another pebble, taking the silence as Hisoka's special way of avoiding admitting guilt. He could have as well told him that it was time to drown Cake, from the way it feels.

Tsuzuki doesn't actually have the courage to ask again. He thrown the pebble into the lake instead, feeling brittle and old.] Okay.

[He speaks softly, avoiding eye contact at all costs.]

Why can't you feel it?

[He lies down on his back, resting his head on his hand.]

Feel what?

It.

[All the things he can't say.]

[Tsuzuki could push again, but that would have been even worse. He glances over to Hisoka's side, quickly wrapping up his own feelings and slipping into his work mode. There will be time later to lick his wounds and remember what was being said.]

Is someone coming?

[He shakes his head, helpful as ever.]

[In that case he'll just glance up between the branches. The way the sunlight glints through them is beautiful.] It?

I already told you I don't want to have this conversation.

[He closes his eyes. When they open, he's looking in Hisoka's direction again.] You've already said this much.

So why do you keep asking me to explain?

It's not easy to always have to guess, Hisoka. I don't think you know how it feels to never really know.

Amd what if I don't know how to tell you?

....

You don't have to tell me. [He reaches for him, feeling apologetic.]

Do you know what i do when I can't say something?

[He still lets Tsuzuki touch, but any chance of reciprocation is long gone.]

Gm? What?

[Tsuzuki still feels very guilty for pushing him this far. He doesn't reply, he simply touches gently, showing him that he's not going to leave instead of saying it. There's his answer.]

[He nods slowly, letting the touch happen. Hopefully it's enough that he's not pulling away and shouting. He doesn't have the energy for more.

What did this all mean? Why couldn't he just behave like a sensible adult capable of handling himself in basic interactions? How soon until Tsuzuki brought this up again -- or worse, until he buried it again and let the uncertainty chew up his insides? It's a horrible feeling.]

[It's such a tense moment that Tsuzuki wouldn't have reacted well to a big fight, anyway. Very gently, as if expecting him to flinch when he comes nearer, Tsuzuki's fingertips touches the tips of Hisoka's.]

[He clears his throat, sitting up. It's a little vulnerable to lie down when they're talking.] I'm sorry.

[He averts his eyes from the brazen contact.]

You have nothing to be sorry for.

No, I do. I shouldn't have said any of that.

Tsuzuki, stop.

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