thesettingsun | Recolle IC Inbox

hey so uh
you know what you said a while ago about if i get a weird memory
i should talk to you

[Thank goodness Shuji is still awake watching Youtube for too long.]

I remember. Want me to come over, or do you just want to text?

idk
im kinda
idk

you mind coming over
i dont know if i can make words do what i want em too rn

Be there in fifteen.

[Shuji isn't as good at booking it as Mista, but he's also not bringing anything but himself. He gets to Mista's home in fifteen minutes, waving from outside.

Please don't be too bad a memory.]

[Mista's waiting. He's been moving from place to place all day, a couple hours in his apartment and a couple at work, a couple walking around looking for trouble even though he didn't find any. He doesn't even know if he's disappointed or not.]

[Either way, though, seeing Shuji is a relief. He's been sitting at the window staring out at not much of anything, but the sight of Shuji has his tense shoulders visibly relaxing. He rushes to the door and lets Shuji in with a big, sharp sigh.]

Hey. Hey, thanks. For coming.

It's the least I can do.

[Fair is fair and Mista did the same for him - but even besides that, Mista is an important person and Shuji wants to support him like this. He doesn't want there to be a reason for Mista to need it, but he wants to support him now that it's come up.]

Where do you want to talk?

[Probably not the entryway, but somewhere a little bigger than a dorm room has more choices.]

. . . Kitchen, maybe?

[He doesn't even know. The living room would be more comfortable, but there's a part of him that's still thinking about windows and the angles of bullets, the idea that someone's after him. Them. All of them. Whoever "they" are.]

[He knows, though. He does know.]

Here, uh--

[He sets his jaw, jerks his head towards the kitchen and makes his way there--half a step there, anyway. Then he stops, glances at the window, and ushers Shuji forward.]

Humor me, okay? Go first.

[Shuji doesn't know what's wrong - a fear of windows? - but it doesn't matter. Mista wants him to go first, Mista's upset, and Shuji doesn't even hesitate to head to the kitchen.

Nothing happens, because of course it doesn't. Shuji ends up leaning on the fridge.]

Works for you?

[To be fair, it could be a fear of windows. That would be a bizarre adventure indeed.]

[Mista ends up leaning on the counter--which, coincidentally, is between Shuji and the nearest window. Funny how that works out.]

Yeah. That's good.

[. . .]

I got no idea how to start talking about this. Like honestly--I honestly have no idea. Shuji, I--

I think I might've killed people, Shuji.

[Mista might have killed people.

It's not right, though, hurting people no matter what they've done.

Mista might have done something that goes against his values, his nature. Shuji remembered dying and that was awful, but he doesn't have strong feelings about suicide, that it's wrong, that it's something you should never do if you can help it.

Shuji takes a moment to react - the shock fading into visible sympathy - before he decides that the best thing to do here would be to hug Mista.

So he does. His body is still between Mista and the window as he takes a step forward and wraps his arms around his friend.]

I'm sorry.

[Shuji was the right person to come to.]

[There was never really any doubt of that, not in Mista's mind. He trusts Shuji to take care of him, not so differently from the way Shuji trusts him. There's complete faith there, unquestioning.]

[But when Shuji's arms come around him and pull him close, it's a reassuring answer to a question that didn't need to be asked. His eyes close automatically, he pulls Shuji close and lets his chin fall to Shuji's shoulder.]

[He didn't even have to say why he was upset. Shuji just knew, because he's amazing.]

. . . Grazie.

You're going to be okay.

[The words are automatic as he rubs Mista's back.]

What that Mista did - whatever life he had, he isn't you and he didn't make the same kind of choices you've made. Nothing he did can make you a bad person.

You - the Mista I know is a really, incredibly amazing person, and nobody else can take that from you.

[Warm all over. That's how he feels. And safe, so safe, and cared for, and like nothing in the world can touch him with Shuji here. That's why he's got to protect Shuji; they have to protect each other.]

[The movement of Shuji's hand along his back slows his breathing to something normal. He sighs. He wants to stay here forever.]

You give good hugs.

[Which basically means: thanks, I needed that. And he pulls away, reluctantly. Visibly less vigilant, although he still glances at the window once or twice.]

I think what makes it crazy is he--I--didn't feel like a bad guy. He thought he was doing the right thing. There was a lot happening, I guess, it was hard to sort out . . .

[His gaze goes unfocused for a minute. He remembers the people, whose names mix up in his head: the capo, the underboss, the kid who stayed behind, the girl in the boat, the straggler, and the last one--the first one. Whichever. Hard to drag his memory away from that one in particular.]

[He chews his lip, feeling--not like himself, but so much like himself.]

Did I ever tell you why I came here? To the States, to Recolle. I don't think I did.

[Shuji lets him pull away. Though he'd like to hug Mista forever, he can see that Mista's relaxed some, and that means he did his job.]

I don't think so either. You've been living here for three years, though, right?

[It was probably mentioned offhandedly during some conversation about the woes of first-generation immigrants and zeroth-generation immigrants, and Mista may not remember saying it, but Shuji pays attention to what Mista says.]

. . . Yeah. Since I was fifteen.

[His feelings are all jumbled up and backwards. He's terrified of the implications, of Shuji finding out and hating him, but at the same time he's riding high on adrenaline and the reckless cockiness of betrayal for a good cause. He can smell his own blood in his clothes, and the smell of surf and someone else's shampoo, and it's not Shuji's but then it is, and then it's just the smell of his home.]

[He screws up his face, trying to put words in order. Sighs again.]

You remembered. I--

When I was fifteen I saw this guy. This one guy hurting this girl. And I called for help but no one came, so I hit him. And I kept hitting him. He was a big dude, so I thought I had to keep hitting him, keep him down, so the girl could get away. And she did.

But he died. Later, I mean. Because I hit him. And he had friends in, you know, high places, so that's why--that's why my mom sent me here. So they couldn't return the favor.

[He isn't looking at Shuji now. He's looking at the floor, not guilty exactly but afraid of . . . something. He doesn't know what.]

I didn't mean to hit him that hard. But sometimes I don't feel sorry for it. If that's what had to be done to keep him from hurting her or hurting other people, better I do it than somebody else. So what's--what's the difference, anyway? Between a guy like me and a, a killer for hire. Or whatever that guy I remembered was.

[Shuji listens. He listens to everything Mista says, but he listens especially closely to this, because it's important to Mista. Enough to make Mista nervous, stumbling over his words.

He waits for Mista to be done before he speaks up.]

If there wasn't any difference between you and that guy, this wouldn't bother you.

[Not as much as it clearly is bothering him.]

I think - I've never been in a spot like that. But I think it'd be easy to go 'well, I killed someone, so now I might as well not care about hurting people at all'. Just giving up on your morals - it's way easier to do that than keep trying.

That's not you, though. Even though that happened, you're still trying to do the right thing.

I still think you're a really, really good person, Mista.

[His voice is soft, honest, with the same faith in Mista he's always had.]

[And . . . it's that easy.]

[He doesn't have to beg forgiveness, or explain himself more, or beg. He doesn't have to lose somebody important to him. He doesn't even have to fight for it. Shuji's faith in him doesn't waver.]

[A grin, broad and a little shaky, spreads across his face. There's that weird sting at the corner of his eyes that says tears are coming; he doesn't need to push it away, isn't ashamed of wanting to cry, but he rubs at the corner of his eye to alleviate the sting.]

I'm so confused right now, Shuji, I'm so fucked up and messed up, but I don't ever have to worry about you, huh?

[Shuji smiles at the sight of that grin, however shaky it is.]

Can't get rid of me that easily, sorry.

[For better or worse, Mista has himself a friend for life.]

You're gonna be fine. But you can be not fine as long as you need to be, and I'll be right here with you. We'll be confused and fucked up together.

[What's going on isn't okay, is frankly terrifying, but they aren't going through it alone.]

. . . Thanks, man.

[He isn't good enough with words to express what he really means in all its detail and nuance. Shuji's way better with words than he is. But then, he's good at showing what he means without words, so--that's what he'll have to do, in place of explaining to Shuji how much all this faith means at a time like this.]

I think I might be fucked up for a while. This guy, he was . . . the memory was a mess, I know I'm missing pieces, but there were other people and it was his job to look out for them. Cover 'em. So I keep thinking about places somebody could get in, or take a shot from.

[He glances at the window.]

Kinda paranoid. I mean, nobody's after me here. Or you. But there somebody was after him and everybody he cared about.

...I definitely get what you mean. You get kind of - stuck in that thinking.

[His case isn't the same, but Mista already knows what fucked him up in that memory, thoughts-wise.]

If it helps, I'll stay between you and windows. And if anybody looks at you funny I can give them a good what-for.

[He's not entirely sure what a what-for actually entails.]

No!

[It's almost a yelp, definitely louder than it should be in such a quiet conversation. He's immediately embarrassed, uncomfortable at the spike of his own irrational, irrelevant fear. It makes him hunch his shoulders a little, curl in on himself--but not too far, because it feels right, too.]

If whatever it is follows me here somehow and gets to you, I'll lose it. I know it's not gonna happen, but I gotta take care of you anyway. Just in case. I just have to, Shuji, it's the only thing right now that feels--the same, between me and him.

[Shuji flinches a little at the outburst - Mista isn't quiet by any means, usually, but this is different.

It's understandable, wanting to take care of your friends. It's just not something Shuji can quietly accept.]

I want to take care of you too. I know I'm not any good at it, I can barely take care of myself, but - you're really important to me. I don't want you to get hurt.

So... okay, you can take care of me, but you can't get yourself hurt to do that. Sound fair?

[. . . Oh.]

[That all makes sense. It makes a lot of sense, so much sense that guilt hits Mista like a slap. He never thought of it like that, and maybe it won't click forever, but--for now it does. For now he sees how one-sided his thinking is.]

[He hurt Shuji. This thing, this weird paranoia hangover, made him hurt Shuji.]

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak out like that. You're right, I--yeah. It sounds fair.

[He gnaws his lip for a moment, shifts his weight, then shakes his head sharply.]

Don't say you're not good at it, though. You knew what I was thinking before I said it. You're, like, impossibly good at taking care of me. Nobody else--

You're perfect at it, okay, so don't say that. Please.

[Shuji is impossibly good at taking care of Mista. Perfect at it.

Shuji really wishes this was some other situation where he could probably appreciate the praise Mista is giving him. He'd rather Mista not need taking care of at all, that he not see shadows in every window. He would trade that praise from the person he likes more than anyone just to know that he was okay.

But that's not how things are.]

I'm not mad. You've got every right to freak out a little and be not okay for a while.

[Just be not okay with him.]

[Looking at Shuji now, Mista realizes something. He hasn't figured out all the similarities between him and that other guy yet. He knows he hasn't, because just now he's discovered another one. That loyalty that that guy felt towards those people, the ones he was protecting, it wasn't just duty. It was more than that, deeper and more lasting and complicated. And Mista feels that, too.]

[It'd be a lot easier if he understood how to label everything he felt, but he doesn't. He wouldn't even if he were better at English. He's not the kind of person who's good at things like this.]

[Shuji fills in a lot of gaps where his words should be, he thinks.]

. . . Hey, do you think it'd be okay if--if we sat on the couch and watched a stupid movie or something? Or played a game. I don't want you to leave.

[It sounds so selfish when he puts it like that. But it's true, so he doesn't take it back.]

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thesettingsun - 2017-07-04 08:28 (UTC) - Expand

Recolle IC Inbox

6/15, wee hours of the morning

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