Drunken Teleport Chase


Mamoru finally goes to confront Jadeite! And teleports-chases him across the city while drunk. This ends in tears and the porcelain goddess and them making up <3

Date: 2018-09-11
Pose Count: 25
Mamoru Chiba 2018-09-11 02:26:44 97529
Whether or not Jadeite has actually been painting My Chemical Romance lyrics on the walls of his bedroom, and no matter what might be on his bedroom floor and eminently breakable if they have the sudden weight of tall boy with dress shoes on them--

--a bright-eyed and flush-faced Tuxedo Kamen sans actual kamen and gloves appears, facing the wrong way and maaaybe swaying a little, in a golden flash of light and a soft pop. He turns around too fast and almost loses his balance, and opens his mouth to say something when he spots Saburo.
Jadeite 2018-09-11 02:35:33 97530
What stands on the floor is the flourishing beginnings of a village, built from pizza boxes and takeout containers and connected by mismatched sets of playing cards. It's not all that pretty and it's definitely swaying slightly, but it's the proud product of two weeks of hiding out. It's balance is delicate, and even now its creator is carefully securing a piece of roofing with a bit of tape and the corner of a upturned cup, building the village up.

And then the village is crumpled paper and plastic, crunched and crumbled under the feet of Tuxedo Kamen-less, the pieces connected to the tower atop the kitchen counters tumbling down as his weight settles. Saburo is too stunned for words, weight resting on the balls of his feet where he still kneels.
Mamoru Chiba 2018-09-11 02:41:09 97532
--the look Saburo is giving him is Mamoru's first clue that something isn't working out as planned. The fact that Saburo doesn't immediately vanish is the second clue, and then Mamoru looks down.

And Mamoru looks appalled.

"Oh shit, man, I'm really sorry--!" he says, now definitely swaying a little, one hand going up to his head and knotting in his hair, sending it decidedly in the 'bedhead' or possibly 'FFL' category. He drops his hand and stares at Saburo, and then both hands go to his head and he looks down at the flat mess underneath him and stammers, words getting a little fuzzy at the edges, "I-- I can help you fix-- um-- I mean-- fffu-- kuso..."

A beat. "I wanted to, uh, to explain-- your sisters--" but he's still staring at the castle's remains, and then one hand drops to his mouth and he taps a dress-shoe on some flat cards. "--and then I was Gojira--"
Jadeite 2018-09-11 02:55:51 97536
It takes a moment for Saburo to remember how to close his mouth, looking from Mamoru's face to the crushed castle back to his face back to the castle rapidly enough that he nearly makes himself dizzy. It doesn't make this make more sense. Mamoru is... here.

Wordss are being spoken, and he hears them without registering them, too busy trying to make this sudden upset in the world make sense. Mamoru...is here. Not there, wherein there is somewhere specifically not-here, but actually here, as in this place that Jadeite is in.

And he wants to talk.

"Oh fuck."

There is only one rational cours of action for this, and it doesn't matter that Kyouko had only literally yesterday told him to talk to Mamoru, or that Naru had advised that speaking could open new options or only a day before that Kazuo had reminded him that Mamoru wouldn't care about him being in a bad place because he'd want to be there. It doesn't even matter that Jadeite himself had started to acknowledge that he and Mamoru should talk, and soon. Confronted with Suddenly Mamoru, he takes the logical course of action-

-and teleports away from the apartment and to the first place to come to mind: the roof.
Mamoru Chiba 2018-09-11 03:03:06 97538
'Oh fuck'. Hm. Mamoru considers this. Probably not a good sign. He puts his hand over his stomach, noooot thinking about how it's going to gurgle even more in a second, and gives Saburo a second of peace while he wisely scrabbles (and slips on cards) to grab the first even remotely identifiable liquid he can see, then hurriedly puts it down to take out his hat and reach into it for a dramamine. He vanishes his hat again and pops the pill in his mouth, then shuts his eyes tight and teleports again, forgetting the liquid.

That means when he arrives on the roof, he looks sick and covers his mouth, then with excruciating slowness, reaches past the Jadeite plushie on the chair next to Neph and pulls the coffeewhisky thermos out of Neph's hands, and chugs some more despite how hot it is, and grimaces.

He gives back the thermos, gasping, and rounds on Jadeite with Determined Face.
Nephrite 2018-09-11 03:10:23 97539
Jadeite finds the roof already occupied. By two individuals, in fact. One is Nephrite, sitting in his usual spot in front of his telescope, in the process of pouring more whisky-with-a-dash-of-coffee into his mug. The other is the Jadeite plushie, occupying the chair beside him, with his notebook of star charts sitting open in the plushie's lap, its little plush hands pinning it open.

Neil glances up at Jadeite without even pausing in his pour. "If you get him to ralph, you'll probably win. If you want to win."

Then there is a Mamoru, and the thermos goes to a higher cause, because he gives it up entirely without a fight. "If you manage to keep all that down until the end of the night, I'll give you a whole bottle of it."
Jadeite 2018-09-11 03:21:44 97540
"I have only myself to blame for this," Jadeite mutters, and slaps a hand to his face, grimacing. Does he mean coming to the roof when it was bound to be occupied, seeing as it's after dark on a day that ends in Y? Or does he mean the fact that Mamoru is after him to Talk, teleporting and all? Both, probably. Both is good.

"Of course I want to win," he says, and most definitely does not acknowledge that if Mamoru throws up, he will be at his side and trying to get him into a bed or a bathroom instantly. Even if he wins he loses.

And then Mamoru is there, and looking sick, and a drink from Neil is not going to fix that for him. Jadeite sacrifices the chance to teleport away before Tuxedo Kamenless can speak in favor of glowering at Neil. It's really more of a pout. "You shouldn't enable him."
Mamoru Chiba 2018-09-11 03:27:38 97541
"LIQUID COURAGE!" Mamoru bellows on the heels of Jadeite's 'you shouldn't enable him', and then he sways again and looks at Neil, taking a second to parse what he just said. "Really?" he asks with a blink, and then he remembers this is all so he can TALK TO JADEITE, and he rounds on his blondest Shitennou again, fists at his sides. "We have to talk about this you can't keep running-- talk about-- your sisters!" he finishes triumphantly, and takes an unsteady step toward Jadeite, bare hand out.
Nephrite 2018-09-11 03:28:31 97542
Neil shrugs innocently. "It's not like I have ever been able to stop him, at any point, in any lifetime. I might as well provide booze and moral support." He pauses in the act of screwing the lid back onto the thermos to hold it out to Jadeite. "Want some too?"
Jadeite 2018-09-11 03:42:35 97543
The blondest of all Shitennou can only sputter. He jabs a finger at Mamoru, the living spectacle of Jadeite's point, and shakes his head at Neil, "Shameless enabler."

He might have had more to say on the subject, but the dreaded s-word is spoken once more, this time with the threat of touching and contact and feelings sharing, and he backs away, one step, two step, remembers he can teleport, and is gone again.
Mamoru Chiba 2018-09-11 03:52:40 97544
The overdressed twenty-year-old with too much booze and a dramamine and coffee sloshing around in his gut shuts his eyes tight and focuses on the feeling of Jadeiteness and that feeling's location, and follows it again, popping out of sight in another golden flash.

This time, instead of the drink helping dull his sense of his body being wrong and being blind and deaf and sensory deprived in all ways except for that thread he's following-- a mobile brain in a jar internally screaming forever-- the drink turns it almost into solipsism, or at least into a doubt that there's anything actually anywhere except his consciousness.

So when he appears in a dark and dusty house that knows him to the crown of his head and the soles of his feet, he gasps and reaches for the nearest wall, misses, staggers, and falls to one knee. He croaks, "I have no mouthe 'nd I mus' zcreammmm," then coughs, and holds his hand over his mouth, then drags himself up the wall. It is very dark but there are no grues. There's only the bright cold panicky and probably aggravated sense of Jadeite Is Right There, and Mamoru breathes into his sleeve for a moment while his head and his stomach and his inner ears stop spinning at different frequencies and in different directions.

"...dude," he says, sounding like he's got marbles under his tongue and breathing a little shallowly, "'M not gonna make-- make you-- talk to your..."

He fishes for words, shutting his eyes again and pulling stability from the house itself, and his bare henshined hand on the wall shows him things, and they're things he doesn't want to see right now because they're distracting, but they give him a word to use. "Parents. They're-- they're dicks, man. Fuck that."
Nephrite 2018-09-11 03:53:16 97545
Before the pair can vanish, Neil remembers to pull out his phone. The incriminating photos that follow may or may not be texted to numerous people later.

And then Wile E. Coyote and Road Runner both vanish in a flash. "Good luck," Neil mutters to absolutely no one, except perhaps the plushie, who is doing a stellar job of assisting him. He wedges the empty thermos into the chair next to the little plush likeness of Jadeite and goes back to his stars.
Jadeite 2018-09-11 04:20:35 97546
The House of Empty Rooms is not what he had in mind when he left, but considering that the panicked hamster-in-a-wheel that is his brain hadn't actually had a place in mind, it isn't the worst place he could have ended up. It's a comforting place - the entrance to his palace is here, and if he went there, he could keep anyone out, for as long as he wanted. If he went there, he could end this right now, could just run away, put off every decision and thought and fear until he was ready for it.

He doesn't go there. When Mamoru arrives, seconds behind him and stumbling and too sick to stand up straight wthout a wall to lean on or a floor to shore himself up against, Jadeite is still standing in the entry way of the house, looking into the kitchen and his could have been would have been escape route. He doesn't go to him when he falls, only stares. The aggravation swimming in his gut is barely enough to cover the fear that rattles in his chest, bounces along his ribs. His mouth is dry when it opens, the words, "You can barely teleport sober, why are you doing it drunk?" leaving his lips without permission, exasperated and annoyed and not quite managing to avoid a wobbling edge. Those aren't the words he meant to say, but that isn't really anything new, his mouth is full of words that speak themselves whenever his brain isn't focused specifically on shaping them into things that are pretty and careful and useful. He can't leave again, not until he sees for himself that Mamoru can stand. He would rather pull out a tooth than talk about any of this, but he'd rather lose an eye (or a hand or a foot or another useful, important body party) than leave his drunken mess of a friend abandoned in this house of old memories and mysteries.

Then parents is said, so soon after sisters, and the only reason he doesn't change his mind and run for the stairs after all is because 'not going to make you' comes first. He doesn't understand. The hamster is running even faster, trying to outpace the confusion and spin the words into something that makes sense. "You - aren't?"
Mamoru Chiba 2018-09-11 04:40:30 97547
Ohthankgod one more teleport and Mamoru would have ralphed. Now he might get the bottle. Maybe. If he can get the room to stop spinning.

(Unfortunately his power only helps with hangovers. He can't un-drunk himself.)

Jadeite asks him a funny question, and Mamoru shuffles further toward the wall to lean against it again, this time keeping his sleeve between it and touching, hand curled inward toward himself, rolling his head against the inside of his forearm. That feels funny too, but more like compulsively interestingly pleasant. He's dimly aware he should answer the funny question, laughing a little under his breath, and then he falls silent when Jadeite speaks again.

Rolling his forehead far enough to look at Jadeite but not far enough to make the room tip over, Mamoru's brightly drunk eyes, red-rimmed to match the flush of high color in his cheeks, fix on his friend and guardian. "No," the prince says irritably. "I thought-- it was? Reasonable?" He's speaking slowly, forming the words and syllables with concentration and willpower.

"For her to ask about you-- going there. Thinking-- that they might be--" Mamoru stops himself just in time, frowning, then tilting and turning his head back to mash his eyes against his forearm, which slides a little up the wall to accomodate. He doesn't say, 'decent human beings, overjoyed to see their beloved son whom they'd thought dead', because it would call attention to the fact that the Colossal Douchecanoes that were his beloved brother's parents might have been Disappointed that he was alive.

"'M not. Not even-- going to make. You talk. To your sisters. They'll get it. They'll wait. They love you like-- air. Water." A pause. "Like salt. And-- so do I. You-- dumbass. I could never, ever be disappointed in you. I couldn't ever value them over you. They need-- to be protected? Because their want and love, they're so great that they are already targets. K-kyuubey. Could get them. So I will protect them. And so will the others. And you don't have to talk to them, or-- or look at them. Please-- let me, let us, do that with your--"

He stops talking, grimaces, then drags along the wall down to his knees and breathes much more deeply, then de-henshins and starts lying down on the floor. "Your blessing..." he says in a really big, fast exhalation.
Jadeite 2018-09-11 05:21:02 97548
Jadeite does not move. He isn't really sure that he can, legs tense with - something like suspicion, only mixed with confusion, peppered with bewilerment and a dash of hope. It feels too good to be true, but wrong too, and he is sure that he missed something, or more likely, that Mamoru had missed a word, or two, or three. That would make sense. This does not make sense.

There are answers, though. Words that come slowly, dropped with all the precision used when applying chisel to stone. These are not words spit with careless ease and drunken joy, and so he listens and doesn't ask questions, doesn't dare to derail the train of thoughts easing along the tracks in Mamoru's head, even when he wants to. They might be what? What is he going to say? Where is he going with this? Why doesn't he want to put words to his thoughts, or push him to go through with it, or even ask why? The questions buzz in his mind, between his ears, itching to be asked even as he shuts them behind his teeth, afraid of the answers.

He doesn't have time to ask them though, because Mamoru is answering them, in a way, and it's the last thing he's expected, after all he's feared and thougt and fretted over, the thought that he would just - let it go. And then -

"I never said I was - " but the ice is snow now, and it doesn't hide his relief, the way it makes his knees jelly and soft until he's sliding down his chosen wall to, doesn't hide the confusion. It isn't clear, isn't as strong as it would be if the connection were clear and not piled high with driftss and piles of snow, but it's undeniable. He was afraid of disappointing Mamoru. He was afraid of, for, his place in his heart, where he had never been before. That fear is not gone now, but it is soothed, and that too is undeniable.

Words are still being said. Protection is being offered. Fears not yet spoken of are being met and matched and helped, and it is not what he expected and - then Tuxedo Kamenless is Mamoru, and green is not his color.

"You don't - need my blessing - you know that, right?" He is dragging himself to his feet again, or at least inching up, and though he isn't drunk, surprise can be like a drug, and he's shaky with it, as he approaches the wall and the dehenshined lump beside it. He doesn't touch bare skin, but his hands drop down on Mamoru's shoulders as he goes to lift him up.

"Not sp fast, if you breathe too fast you'll burp," this is not answering the question. Neither of these two statements is answering the question. His hands shake. "Come on, get up. If you throw up, you lose Neil's bet, you don't want to lose that."

This is still not an answer. Protection. Kyuubey. Love and wants and drunken courage to do something terrible. Words annd feelings and wants and fears. "You - I don't understand - you can have it but - nevermind. You have my blessing, you can - we can - I'll - just come on, sit up for me, so you don't throw up."
Mamoru Chiba 2018-09-11 05:48:28 97549
The world is a tunnel, and Mamoru really vaguely wishes he'd eaten something. He also more or less tries to grasp and hold all the pieces of things Jadeite says, and then he rolls his head back against the wall as he lies on his side and Jadeite comes over. The wall is cool. His head likes the coolness of the wall, and the house has mercy, and the wall is silent to his inebriated mind.

Doesn't need his blessing--? Mamoru blearily looks at Jadeite, and Jadeite shakes him, and-- oh god, in the dark-- that's Kazuo's hoodie, found in this very house a few years ago. The one he wears when he's feeling really damn insecure and frightened. In the dark it was hard to see from a bit away, but it's clear.

It's a much clearer indicator of his current temperment than his lack of sobriety would have anyone believe.

Jadeite's pulling him up, and Mamoru resists, thinking one thing, then goes along with it as he thinks another thing, and one hand comes up to knuckle his eyes roughly. "No I want to lose that, I'm worried--" He breathes, then drops his forehead onto his knees and breathes for a moment. And then he continues, "Drug interaction. Empty stomach. Alcohol poisoning maybe? I sh-- I should throw up, bottle or no b--"

The 'b' sound is a mistake.

It's a mighty battle.

Mamoru wins it, but the war still rages, and he breathes open-mouthed for a second, then continues very carefully, "Need it. Don't want to do it behind your back or with you avoiding us or mad or guilting or--"

He starts scrambling awkwardly to his feet, then, hand hovering over his mouth, breathing through it, and looks in panic between the hall bathroom door and the front door, and he has zero depth perception--
Jadeite 2018-09-11 06:07:59 97550
Hands are on warm cloth over bunched shoulders, the fabric soft with age and wear and it might be dark but it isn't so dark that he can't recognize the sweater, the old and ugly one that appears for fear and nerve and uncertainty, that belies any drunken courage or relaxed yukatas. A pang of guilt jabs his conscious - talking to him had been enough to drag the ugly old, worn old, comforting old sweater that only appears in circumstances of bad, worse, and awful out of hiding. What kind of useless brother makes himself that much of a trigger?

He almost lets go when Mamoru resists, almost accepts it as his due, never mind how it contradicts the other words, but before self recrimination can dig too deep, the resistant body is willing again, leaning with his pull until the effort to make words makes him stop and breathe and worry is enough to distract again. He has too many thoughts, too many feelings, but he can focus on this and just this because -

"Drug - empty - poisoning?!?" - because he's going to strangle Mamoru and Neil both. "Get up then, come on, up like I said before you make yourself choke on it trying to lay down, come on -"

He's pulling, half crouched and trying to get Mamoru up so he can throw up, so he can empty out his stomach before drink and drugs kill his liver and guts and every other bit in there, and hee's so focused on his efforts that he can almost make himself miss the words that are so carefully said. "I wasn't mad," but before anything else can be said the scrambling is happening, and he has a bit of his own scrambling to do to keep Mamoru from smashing their heads together as he rises up, and Jadeite has had plenty of experience interpreting looks on that face, and the bathroom is the other way. He's going to throw up. He needs to throw up. Throwing up outside will be cold and unpleasant.

That's all he has to think about for his hand to drop down to bear wrist and tug, pullng Mamoru up and with him for the bathroom, feelings oozing out from under and over and around melting snowdrifts and into the space between thir hands. "Come on, come on, throw up on the floor if you need to, but come on, the tile will feel nice, you'll feel better if you do it there and don't have to smell it."
Mamoru Chiba 2018-09-11 06:27:43 97552
Words words words. Jadeite is a flying dinosaur, apparently; he must be Mrs. Pteranodon from Dinosaur Train because he's totally being Team Mom right now, and Mamoru's not focusing on the words, he's focusing on keeping it down long enough to get to the bathroom, and he keeps stifling hurks and it's a really bad scene, and Jadeite's voice is really nice and something to focus on and he can feel Jadeite so clearly now and the response to that oozing around the snow is the mental and magical version of a drunken sobbing happy tacklehug mixed in with the oh no oh no oh no and there's such a deep sincere regret and bone-deep sense of apology under the Prince's skin and so much love, so much golden enveloping pure steady stable love and acceptance and belief, and layered atop that is just OH NO OH NO OH NO OH NO

and he

just

makes it.

Who knew Jadeite would be faced with hot sincere sincerely hot garbage tonight? Obviously not Jadeite. Almost certainly not Nephrite; he had no idea Mamoru's life choices were actually as bad as they were, like ten or fifteen minutes ago? Mamoru probably had an inkling. Idiot prince. Jerk prince.

Loving desperate prince.

It's a bad scene but it could be a lot worse, and there's nothing in his stomach but whiskey, coffee, cream, sugar, disintegrated dramamine, and bile, so it doesn't even go on that long. He flushes the toilet himself and looks for toilet paper with his hands, and finds none, and uses the hoodie to wipe his mouth, and then realizes what he just did and stares at the blech, and his eyes start welling up and his chin crumples.
Jadeite 2018-09-11 06:50:57 97553
Is it being Team Mom or is it assuming the role of big brother, worn and familiar as the old hoodie cloaking Mamoru's body and not nearly as loved? It's impossible to tell, in the moment. His thoughts are all worry and fear and a curl of annoyance, the thought 'whoever made my little si-' cut off, crumpled, and thrown into the dumpster before it can be completed. The protective worry is still there though, undeniable as long as skin touchees skin, and while his mouth is still saying things like "come on," and "almost there," and "it's okay, just try to keep it in," his thoughts are flashes of memory, flashing like the reflection of the sun through breaking waves. Siblings sick, siblings hurt. Mamoru as a disembodied spirit, Nephrite pale and still and blood-covered in the wake of Fiore's rage, a sarcophagus that had been Kunzite's, a drained boy, a bleeding girl - siblings all of them, injured, scared, hurt.

This is nothing more than drinking gone wrong.

This is a few too many.

This is nothing like the dozen and dozen memories of injuries and illnesses and maladies, but he treats it with all the seriousness of those times. The worry is there, taking in the love and reflecting it back. The fear is there, spikking at every OH NO and waning all at once because of the love, and the worry is the fear is the aggravation is the love because underneath all of that is how much he loves his stupid stupid stupid brother.

They make it in time, and though Mamoru's hair isn't long enough to need to be held back, he still finds himself brushing strands back, fingers moving on reflex, going to press hair behind ears as if it were long enough to stay. Old habit, old memory. His voice is a hum, not quite music but not quite words either, something mindless and comforting over the hacking and coughing between every gagging upchuck. The scent of bile and alcohol and coffee is not pleasant and the toilet is quickly full of liquid of ugly colors not meant to be seen outside of the human digestive system, but he doesn't flinch back, just keeps carding loose hairs back until Mamoru is done, can flush the toilet himself, and he's looking in vain for a napkin when he feels horror under his fingers, soaking up through the top of Mamoru's head and swings his head back around in time to see disaster afoot.

"Take it off, we still have running water, it doesn't take long to get it out. Don't cry, tears won't get it off before the stain sets, come on," and his voice is firm, but he doesn't go to tug the sweater off, doesn't move to undress him - through him Mamoru will see a dozen stains large and small, spilt oon blouses and skirts and dresses and shirts and diligent hands running water and soap and sponges over them all, digging nails against stains and nudging fabric. He will also sense the dueling notion - panic over Mamoru tears, over brother crying, and a calm almost as old, the surety that tears will cry themselves out and pass if need be.
Mamoru Chiba 2018-09-12 01:53:37 97597
Big brother? Mamoru's still taller than he is-- and this is drunk drunk drunk, they've all been shitfaced before; when they all went out to celebrate the anniversary of the defeat of the Dark Kingdom, it was Mamoru who carried Jadeite home and put him to bed before continuing to drink with the other guys. But-- caretaking-- especially when they're both so high on emotion and Mamoru's acting like this--

The strange thing about it is partway through Saburo stroking his hair back from his face, from his temples, his forehead-- there's a violent shiver and a moment of darkness, and then one of the hands that he'd had braced against the cool tile of the floor comes up to close over Jadeite's hand, briefly, and then Mamoru lets go and concentrates on the love he feels and the purity of it and the contact and it's good, everything is okay even if everything's a godawful mess.

He goes along with everything Jadeite says, and manages to avoid actually crying, even if he scrubs his eyes with his other sleeve-- and then he sees what Jadeite's remembering, and abruptly Mamoru's shoving the drunk away as hard as he can; he threw up everything that wasn't already in his bloodstream, and he can fix what's left with a lot of water and some food later, and right now he can at least goddamn focus for his Jadeite. "I'm okay," he breathes out as he takes off the hoodie, "I'm okay. I'm sorry. I'm not crying you're crying. I'm-- I'm just-- drunk. And it'll be over soon. And I'm sorry. I was scared. But that's okay too. You shoulda seen me when Kunzite was furious with me. That was just-- that was just fast, it was over faster. And Zoi-- Zoi only left for a week. And-- it's okay, and I'm sorry--"

All the while he's cooperating, even if his motions are unwieldy and awkward, and they can wash the gleck off in the bathroom sink, and it's okay. "I'm sorry."
Jadeite 2018-09-12 02:59:44 97605
Big brother, middle brother, short brother, tall - this is not the first time they've been drunk. Not in this life or the other. The motion of fingers through hair is familiar from this life, but also from that other one, that older one that is rooted in his blood and bones, grounded in the essence of him. For as many times as Jadeite has dragged Endymion into trouble, he's just as often been the one to drag him out of it. Leaning over a toilet with him, soothing away sickness and nausea - these are old habits, ones that bubble up to the present in times of need.

This qualifies, by all account. It isn't just the sickness or the vomit from the sickness, but the emotion and the contents of that stomach, too. Coffee and drink, bile and liquid, not a bit of food or a hint of solidity. It makes it obvious that Mamoru hasn't eaten today, three teleports in a short time would have dragged up everything from the day that hasn't already hit blood and guts, and he doesn't like the idea that Mamoru had gotten shitfaced to face him.

It's just hard to focus on that worry and dislike when there's love pouring into him from the hand on his, cycling through his being and right back out, that same care, unblemished and untarnished for the time it's taken for them to get back to a point where it could be shared so readily, returned to Mamoru in full. It's old base logic that was and wasn't ever forgotten - Jadeite loves Mamoru loves Jadeite - and some part of him already feels foolish for doubting it. Feeling that love, holding it in his hand and heart, he feels a fool for questioning it. They're brother. They've been through worse - a thousand worries, soothed and blunted by love prove that true.

While Mamoru speaks, he quiets, hands working over fabric instead and spreading the material of the hoodie so the stain of blech can soak evenly, and turns the water on, cold. "I'm not crying, so you're not crying, okay?"

A swallow, and even while one hand remains to work on the stain the other is wrapped up with Mamoru's, his own apologies spilling out, "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to - I just froze and the days all slipped away and I didn't mean for it to be so long, I just - Kazuo said I wouldn't be bad for you, but I still wasn't sure."

Between their hands it's clear that part of him still doubts, but the rest is at peace - Mamoru is a mess, he is a mess, it is the natural state of things.
Mamoru Chiba 2018-09-12 03:09:10 97607
"You're never bad for me," says Mamoru with a weirdly choked-sounding little laugh, and then he leans his forehead against Jadeite's head, blond curls tickling his face so that he pulls away, and it's a rueful smile he pulls away with. "Never never. I want to help, okay? But if you're not ready to let me see, maybe-- maybe you can talk it out with one of the others. Because there's a whole lot that's hurting you and I know it'll take time to work through-- but it's important to work through it, to get past it. Things like this-- things that make you doubt yourself-- won't be able to take hold as easy if you're more sure on your feet, you know? We all have to heal."

He hasn't let go that hand; he doesn't. He won't, not until Jadeite needs it for something else. "And it's okay," he whispers. "You came home."
Jadeite 2018-09-12 03:28:08 97608
"I thought if I was bad for me, I had to be bad for you too," he admits, leaning back against him as he scrubs at the stain with the pads of his fingers and the rub of his nails. "And it feels like I'm bad for me. I catch myself thinking things I didn't notice before, and worrying about things and now I wonder if it bothered me before and I didn't notice or if it's all new-old, and I wonder if this is new-normal now and how much worse it can get and I just - things are supposed to be good right now. You're engaged! No one's trying to kill us in particular or gunning for the people we care about. I just wanted things to be good."

He squeezes Mamoru's hand. He doesn't need it for anything more than this. "I didn't want to be anywhere else."
Mamoru Chiba 2018-09-12 03:39:02 97609
"And that," says Mamoru, slinging his soapy-wet other arm loosely around Jadeite's shoulder and chest, as the blond's leaning back into him, "is why things are good. Everything else we can fix."

The contact says Jadeite has a net, has a posse, has people who won't let him fall or get lost; it says it's okay to be anxious and his reasons are valid; it says it's also okay to let go of it and breathe.

Saburo might be endurance, patience-- harmony-- but his prince is the ground beneath his feet. He offers that steady solidity, borrowed from the heart of the planet's dreams and magic, golden in the sun-- but he doesn't force it.

"Neil said he'd pick us up so I wouldn't have to teleport again."
Jadeite 2018-09-12 03:52:31 97610
Wet cold starts soaking through his shirt immediately and Saburo just leans closer; the cold is his element and he welcomes it as easily as he does Mamoru's touch. "Yeah. I guess we can."

And it's nice, to feel the worry slip back for a moment, to not worry that he's one fixer upper too many, one project that Mamoru would rather do without. He could break, and they'd gathered his pieces. He could wander and they'd never let him be lost. This is what home is like, and he's kept himself away from it for too long.

He's still afraid. Still anxious and worried, the hamster in his wheel slowed but not stoopped, but the point isn't that he can't be afraid. The point is that he doesn't have to be alone with it. The snow piled over his connection to Mamoru has melted away and it pulses clear and strong with feeling. Love, worry, affection, -

and wicked brotherly amusement. "In that case, let's try and get you upright so you don't spew chunks in his backseat."