okitactless | IC inbox; recolle

[Once the process starts, it doesn't take too long for Yamato to settle down, as much as he's going to anytime soon. Little by little, his breathing starts to even out, the rigidity beginning to slip out of his body. His grip on Kashuu's shirt loosens, but he doesn't let go, and he doesn't lift his head.

It helps, a lot, that Kashuu is so familiar to him. Without any clear perception of his dream, it's impossible to tell who all that blood belonged to--but it could only be himself or Kashuu, and he doesn't remember feeling like he'd been bleeding. Not seriously, anyway. With the way his body still seems to throb from hitting the bottom of the stairwell, he's pretty sure he'd have felt some sort of fatal injury too. But if it wasn't him, then it had to have been Kashuu, and that's a far more terrifying possibility. If Kashuu's self-preservation is lacking, then Yamato's is nonexistent.

Or at least it used to be--with how scared he feels right now, he's not sure he'd really be so quick to take a bullet for someone after all. And that adds a layer of guilt to his already tumultuous emotions.]

I'm sorry... [He finds his voice eventually, but it's still a whisper. He's stopped shaking, but he's still tense, still pressing close like he's afraid Kashuu will disappear if he lets go.

He hesitates, and though he keeps his head tucked against Kashuu, he lifts it just a little.]

Are you... are you okay? [This doesn't feel like part of the dream, but then, his dream had felt like reality, so how is he supposed to trust his own mind anymore? And how is he supposed to know that what he saw wasn't some kind of... premonition? He's never thought himself capable of that sort of thing, but with everything that's happened lately...]

I'm okay.

[The answer comes immediately, but it also lacks the reflexive quickness when he's simply trying to dodge giving a real answer. He's fine - freaked out because of Yamato, honestly, but fine. And it's clearly important for Yamato to be made aware of that.

He tucks a few pieces of hair behind one of Yamato's ear and then brushes his fringe back into place, but they're all mostly idle gestures of comfort. His attention is pretty much laser focused on what little of his face he can see, watching carefully for any further signs of distress or pain or impending freakouts.]

Don't apologize, either. [Also important, even if it comes after.

And then, equally important:] Are you okay? That sounded like one hell of a nightmare.

I'm-- ["fine", he wants so, so badly to say. But Yamato wears his heart on his sleeve most of the time as it is, and there's no reason to pretend. Not when Kashuu already saw enough to prove he's definitely not fine.

But Kashuu is here, safe at home, as it should be. Nobody's hurt, there's no reason for that desperate panic he'd felt in the dream, the feeling of unwelcome adrenaline rushing through him.]

I-- there was just... so much blood. [He shudders even as he says it; it probably speaks volumes that Yamato, who's never shied away from a fight in his life, is so disturbed.] And I heard you yell, and...

["I saw a monster" sounds too childish, even in his own head. Even if there's no other word to describe what had thrown him down the stairs, all black smoke and bone, save for that eerie glow.] It didn't feel like a dream at all.

[There's just a little humming sound first, half to show that he's listening, half just as a soft sort of comforting nonsense noise. The entire time Yamato talks, he doesn't move, just keeps petting his hair down and cradling him close.

Blood and yelling really does sound like a hell of a nightmare, but it's the latter part that makes him worried. Two months ago he'd have been able to totally disregard a statement like that. Sometimes, they have active minds. Sometimes their subconscious thoughts can spring to life so fiercely that they feel falsely true even though they're certainly not.

But with Retrospec stepping in and everything he's heard about other people and their hallucinations, and his own strange dreams...]

...Was it like that time you had that dream where I gave you the hairpin?

[Yamato's nod is reluctant; he's not so rattled that he can't understand the connection. But what he'd seen tonight is very different from dreaming about reading magazines, or Kashuu doing his hair. Those sorts of things could very easily be reality, and it's not like Yamato's never had realistic dreams before.

Something about this is different, though, even beyond the fact that it was horrifying. There's a weight in his chest--the same weight, he might realize later, that he'd felt when he saw the omamori. The little charm is the furthest thing from his mind right now, though.

Slowly, he lifts his head, his eyes wide and fearful as he looks at Kashuu's face.]

Kiyomitsu, you don't think... [He pauses, chewing on his lip, and unthinkingly holds onto Kashuu's shirt again.] It... it couldn't be the future, could it...?

[He won't be surprised if Kashuu laughs it off; that's his typical reaction to Yamato's superstitious paranoia. But even if he does, that won't do much to assuage his feelings; right now, nothing can.]

[Is it better or worse, then, that no laughter comes? Predicting the future... Well, who's to say that's not what it is? Even though he and most of the people he's talked to have been referring to these as "memories" of some sort - hallucinations with such vividness that they seem like they really happened at some point - there's nothing to say that they aren't predicting things that will come eventually, rather than things that might have happened before, somehow.

It almost makes more sense, in a way. ...In a very small way, because nothing about this makes total sense.

Still, his eventual answer probably isn't surprising.]

There's no way, yeah? If it's kind of like the dream you had before, then it's probably like the dream I had too, right? And there's no way we can go to the beach for the first time in the future when we've already been there once. So...

[So don't worry about it too much, is what he wants to say, but doesn't. He also wants to ask for more details about the contents of the dream itself, but something keeps those words in his mouth, too. He isn't sure what. Thinking about the possible answer just leaves him feeling somewhat unnerved, for no reason he can pinpoint.]

I guess so...

[It's not terribly convincing, but at this point, Yamato will take anything. Kashuu's definitely the master of shutting out things he doesn't want to think about, but Yamato's pretty good at denial himself. This is one of those moments when denial is what he needs, so as unsatisfactory an answer as it may be, he'll still take it.

He stares a little longer, memorizing the details of Kashuu's face, like he's searching for some sort of change, some indication that this, right now, isn't real. But there's nothing, of course. He hadn't seen Kashuu's face in the dream, but everything he sees now is just as it should be.]

...I'm glad you're safe. [Whether it's a sign of the future or not, they're alright now, and that's what's important.] I really thought we were going to die.

[AH, HEALTHY COPING...

But the acceptance will simply have to be enough for now, even when it couldn't possibly be. It's not like he's equipped to actually help in the event that it turns out to be true, or that Yamato finds reason to believe it's true even if it isn't. While he's busy staring, Kashuu reaches out, resting his thumbs against Yamato's cheeks. He's not sure why - the gesture just comes on its own, and he lets it, just like he'll let Yamato keep inspecting until that uncertainty is gone from his face.]

...D'you wanna talk about what you saw?

[He actually sounds a little hesitant himself, but not so much because he's worried about the contents of the dreams. Rather, they were clearly traumatic, and he's not sure it's good to make Yamato talk about it so soon.]

You can tell me later, if you want. Over breakfast or something... It's only three right now.

[Ah, ass o'clock visits from the nightmare fairy.]

[Just what these two are best at...

He doesn't think, simply leaning into the touch as he ponders how to answer. He isn't sure which would be worse, honestly; talking about it now is the last thing he wants to do, but dredging it up again in the morning (well, later in the morning) doesn't sound appealing either.]

...I'm not sure how well I can describe it. [He says eventually, equally hesitant--Kashuu isn't going to laugh at him, he knows that, but he isn't sure how to convey just how confusing, how frightening it had been. He reaches up to take one of Kashuu's hands in his own, brushing his thumb absently over the cool, smooth texture of his nail polish. It's comforting for him, in much in the same way it's comforting for Kashuu to fix his hair when he's stressed.] We... it felt like we were in a fight. I think there were other people there, but I couldn't see anybody. Just... a lot of darkness and blood.

[He refuses to close his eyes, but he can't quite meet Kashuu's gaze, either. He lets his own drift, focusing on Kashuu's beauty mark and searching for words.]

We were inside somewhere, and I said-- I guess I was talking to you, but I said I was going up to the second floor. I tried to run up the stairs, but... [A pause, a deep breath.] There was-- a monster, I guess. I don't know what else to call it. It was huge, and it... it threw me back down the stairs like it was nothing.

[He'd felt something in his hand, something like his bokuto, but he's so used to that feeling that it doesn't stand out enough to warrant mentioning.] I could hear you yelling my name, and you sounded so scared, I thought-- I thought for sure you were being attacked too, but I couldn't see...

[He keeps his hand still for Yamato, recognizing this as a stress tell and allowing him to do what he needs to keep himself anchored and comforted.

Though honestly, the more he talks, the more concerned Kashuu is that this isn't the sort of thing he's equipped to offer enough comfort for. It's... really nothing at all like the memories before. It's nothing like planning a trip to the beach, like doing Yamato's hair. Even the dream he'd had earlier in the night - all but forgotten for the time being - had been peaceful. He had held out an omamori just like he'd done in the kitchen earlier that day, and a paper inside with something he doesn't remember had been removed from it because it wasn't needed anymore. Something like that. Something entirely realistic, something that he could see himself doing in real life.

Nothing involving blood or darkness or monsters.]

Well— [WELL. Well. Well, what does one even say in response to this? He almost does laugh, not out of disbelief or mockery but because it's simply so much to try dealing with. His breath leaves him in a little huff.]

...You're okay. [He shifts his free hand down, running it across Yamato's back, over his arm, and then leaning back slightly to check his front just in case.] See? You're fine, you're not bleeding. Nothing's broken. No bruises, no blood. And I'm okay, too. Nothing else is here but you and me. No monsters, nothing - just us. Whatever you saw... no matter what it was, it didn't happen now.

[Which naturally doesn't discount it ever happening... Which is why he adds, almost without thinking:]

I wouldn't let anything like that happen to you.

[It really isn't like anything Yamato's ever experienced before--not in real life, and not in dreams. He's never been squeamish, and he's lost plenty of fights, both in the dojo and out of it. He's no stranger to blood or pain, but this... this was a whole new level.

He understands what Kashuu is getting at, and it's reassuring, he supposes, to know for sure that he hadn't injured himself in his sleep or something. But he doesn't look completely satisfied, either.]

I know. [He shakes his head slightly.] I wasn't scared for myself.

[Well, not completely. Getting thrown down the stairs would spark survival instincts in anybody, and he'd been no exception--he can't deny that some of his wild panic had been due to that. But by far, his own terror had been for Kashuu. For the possibility that, if he'd managed to get up from the foot of the stairs and turn around, he'd see that all that blood belonged to him.

Even now, the thought has him tightening his grip on Kashuu's hand, albeit just a little. It didn't happen now, that's true. But how can they be sure it won't happen soon?]

[Ah. ...Well, that's much less surprising than any part of the dream Yamato had just recounted. He knows his dingus roommate far too well, after all. Of course it'd be something like that.

So he drops his other hand down, resting it against the one already holding his, and holds Yamato's back in turn. A reassuring gesture. A gentle squeeze.]

Don't be scared for me either, got it? 'Cause as long as you're here, I'll be here too. No one else in the whooole world would put up with you like I do, so obviously it's my job to stick around.

[Maybe in some other situation, that would be enough for Yamato to roll his eyes, to nudge Kashuu with his elbow, to make him smile. But he's still too shaken for that, the fear from his dream mingling with old wounds, things he never really stopped thinking about rising to the forefront of his scattered thoughts.

"But you left before," he doesn't say, keeping those words safe beneath his tongue. It's not fair, he knows it isn't, and no matter how upset he is, he doesn't want to make accusations he doesn't mean. But does it really make a difference, in the end? Kashuu hadn't wanted to get hurt, but he'd left anyway, abandoning them--him without a word. Who's to say that getting hurt a second time wouldn't drive him away again? And if... if he couldn't, isn't the result the same? Intentionally or otherwise, Kashuu would be gone from his life. The circumstances are nothing alike, but in the deepest parts of his heart, Yamato can't help selfishly feeling that they're not so different.

"I can't lose you again" is sitting in his throat, too. He doesn't say that either.]

...Do you promise? [He asks instead, finally. His expression is usually pretty open as it is, but his gaze is full of raw emotion as he lifts it to meet Kashuu's. Hope, fear, desperation, a maelstrom of feeling shines in the oceans of his eyes, as he searches Kashuu's face for a guarantee that Kashuu can't possibly give. Nobody can truly promise not to die, after all, but right now, that's the last thing Yamato wants to hear.]

[Normally, he'd be one to point that out. He doesn't make promises that he can't keep, after all - not when it comes to the serious things. He's only human. No human can predict their own death. On top of that, his first reflexive way of handling problems is to drop them and run far, far away. He's not even thinking of the way he returned to Japan and left Yamato behind for years right now, somewhat selfishly, focusing instead on the more immediate concern of trying to reassure him that no monsters would be snatching him away any time soon.

Can he really promise, though? Of course not.

But for once, he doesn't say that, because he's swept away by the intensity of emotion reflecting back at him from Yamato's face. The way his eyes stare, wide and hoping and afraid, as if Kashuu himself were some sort of prophet that could dispel any inkling of misfortune hanging around the two of them. There's no way he has the power to do something like that, in this world or in any frightful dream world, but what can he do? He can't leave someone looking at him like that without the answer they want to hear.

His voice is surprisingly steady when he speaks, even and measured and more sure-sounding than he could ever feel.]

I promise.

[And then, in a somewhat childish gesture, he lifts a hand away from Yamato and holds it up, pinky extended.

Fortunately, he leaves out the "cross my heart, hope to die" part.]

[It's funny, really. Two years is a long time, and people change, especially when it comes to running from the past. Kashuu worked so hard to reinvent himself, and Yamato's still not sure if he'd even wanted to return at all. It would've made perfect sense if, upon their reunion, they'd felt more like strangers than old friends.

But Yamato's never felt that kind of disconnect. He understands Kashuu as well as he always did, no matter how much they've both changed. He knows when Kashuu's whining and when he's genuinely upset. He knows how to push Kashuu's buttons, and he knows exactly when he's crossed a line, even if he marches right over it anyway. And most of the time, even if he doesn't mention it, he can tell when Kashuu's being serious, and when he's just trying to placate him.

Some part of him, that small voice of logic that's so often drowned out by his heart, knows this has got to be the latter. But Kashuu sounds so certain, and it is exactly wants to hear--and that offer, such a small, silly thing, is exactly what he needs to feel better.

He knows Kashuu very well, even after their separation. But Kashuu knows him very well, too.

He lifts his own hand, linking his pinky with Kashuu's, and nods just a little.]

If you die, I'll kill you, you know. [It's mumbled, but finally, the tension is truly starting to drain out of him. His grip isn't so frantically tight, and a smile even ghosts across his face.]

Good thing I have no plans to die any time soon, then.

[It's said with a little barely-there huff that could be a laugh, and he shakes their linked hands once, giving his pinky a little squeeze before moving to break his hand away again. A pinky promise for something like this is childish, but it's not like he has anything else to offer in the face of monsters and blood.

But he can tell that Yamato is calming down a little, and more than coming back to himself after that nightmare, he's losing that frantic edge that had pushed some fear into Kashuu himself. He reaches up again anyway, though, patting his head once more.]

D'you need me to get you anything? Water or a snack or...?

[Extra blankets, warm milk, heck, he'd probably go to the corner store if Yamato wanted his favorite pudding or something (assuming Yamato would even let him leave the house alone so soon after apparently thinking he'd straight-up died). Kashuu lives to be spoiled, but no one could say that he doesn't know how to spoil others in turn, or dote on them when they're sick or distressed or in need of a little gentleness.]

Edited 2017-03-22 06:47 (UTC)

[The most telling part, probably, is that Yamato actually lets his hand go. The desire to cling is certainly there, but then, it always is to some mild degree.

His first thought is, indeed, to ask Kashuu to stay--not just in the house, but right here with him. The fear that he'll turn around to find Kashuu gone hasn't quite dissipated completely, but he knows himself well enough to recognize that it will linger for a while. It wouldn't be fair to force Kashuu to stay with him if he's just going to worry about it anyway.

So he shakes his head, reluctantly letting go of Kashuu's other hand, too. If it's only three in the morning, then Kashuu definitely need to go back to bed. It's the middle of the school week, after all.]

No, I think I'm just going to lay on the couch for a while. [There's no way he's going back to sleep, but his nonexistent diploma isn't going to suffer for missing classes. It wouldn't be the first time he skipped out to go spend the day at the dojo, which is exactly where he's going as soon as the doors are open. Granted, it's not like he's going to function well without sleep either, but. He'd rather stumble through the day than risk closing his eyes and seeing that awful grin all over again.]

No way.

[JUST A "NAH" AT FIRST like the rude punk he is-- But he'll move on to finish that thought instead of just leaving it at "nah", at least, which is more than can be said for what he usually does...]

If you go out there and sit in the dark alone, you're just gonna think yourself up into a frenzy again and spend the rest of the night worrying and then you're gonna end up failing your classes or tripping at kendo and bashing your nose on the floor or something.

[Truly, they know each other Too Well. Yamato doesn't even have to ask for Kashuu to know that he wants to stay close, and after a nightmare like that, he's not against indulging him just a little. Just for tonight.

It's been a long time since he's shared sleeping space with him - since back when they were younger, taking naps on the floor in Yamato's room after a day of playing games and eating his mother's cooking, or crammed into the same sleeping bag on awful camping trips where he just complained about bugs and Yamato snoring. Still, there's no hesitation as he pushes himself back up from the ground and holds his hand back down toward Yamato, nodding toward his bed.]

Move some of your stuff, I'm staying here tonight.

[JUST INVITES HIMSELF but it's not like he'd be able to sleep well anyway, knowing Yamato was awake just down the hall.]

Edited 2017-03-22 18:02 (UTC)

[He really should've expected it, but the pointed refusal catches him off-guard nonetheless. He blinks in surprise, but even if he'd wanted to argue, he's too tired to find the right words. Especially when they wouldn't even be true.

He stays where he is as Kashuu gets to his feet, searching for-- anything, really. Some kind of token protest, just because he feels like he should be contrary. But in the end, he doesn't have the energy for even that. He takes Kashuu's hand without complaint, unfolding himself and realizing just how long he'd been sitting in such an awkward position. He winces slightly as he wiggles his toes, but all he says is:]

I wouldn't trip and fall on my face...

[HIS KENDO PRIDE, the only important stance he has...

He doesn't bother to let go of Kashuu's hand as he does as he's told. Carelessly, he kicks his messenger bag closer to his desk and shoves some of the spare clothes on his bed onto the floor. That's about as much as he's going to do, but he doesn't climb back into bed right away; he hesitates, gaze drifting over to his bokuto. It's right on its stand like always, and it only takes him a minute to decide to go and grab it, propping it gently against his bedside table instead.

Look, at least he's not actually going to sleep with it.]

Are you sure you don't need anything? Your phone, or... [a hair brush, a teddy bear, he doesn't know what Kashuu sleeps with at night, okay. It really has been ages.]

[Signs that Yamato really is bothered: he's not taking the ample opportunities provided to be a little shitstain...

Kashuu also just gives him a Pointed Look at his lame rebuttal, because really?? Is that really the hill he wants to die on? The "super prideful about kendo, kendo all the time, kendo forever" hill? (Kashuu knows the answer, stop, that's why he doesn't look surprised at all when he brings over his bokuto.)

As for the question-- Whoops. He actually does need it, though not so he can stay up scrolling through Instagram for 6 hours.]

Yeah, I need my alarm. Hang on--

[He'll get it himself, just popping over down the hall to snatch it up from his bedside table. Strangely, he finds himself glancing toward the shell he'd left there by his lamp before he returns back.]

--I'm sleeping on the side closer to the wall, too. I don't wanna get kicked onto the floor if you start rolling all over the place.

[LOOK... look... it's 3 a.m. cut him some slack.

But when Kashuu comes back, Yamato's already laying back down, one arm pillowing his head and the other absently tracing the tsuba of his bokuto. He pauses and looks over when Kashuu arrives, but he doesn't withdraw his hand.]

That's fine. [Aww, how thoughtful--] I don't want you this close to him anyway, you'd just knock him over.

["him" being the bokuto because yams is fucking weird forever and always. AND ALSO A PUNK who isn't even gonna move his legs, Kashuu's gonna have to crawl over him.]

[At least he's used to that kind of weirdness... He rolls his eyes just a little because HE CAN'T HELP IT DAMN swords aren't people?? No matter how much you love your bokuto, you can't date it, yams...

But then he's crawling over Yamato's legs, probably bumping them with his sharp pointy little kneecaps as he goes, and moving to nestle into the spot between him and the wall. It's kind of nice, honestly. He gets cold easily and being tucked away like this is comforting and warm.]

Gimme some blanket and pillow.

[GRABBY HANDS. At least between the two of them, he's not an actual blanket stealer...]

[Kashuu will regret thinking that when he gets jealous over an 8-year-old painting Yamato's nails, just admit it.

He grunts as Kashuu clambers over him, and maybe some other time, he'd throw in a light kick, just because. He doesn't do that, but he does grumble a little, even as he tosses one of the pillows over his shoulder. For a minute, he considers making Kashuu grab the blanket himself, since he doesn't quite want to pull his hand away from his bokuto; but Kashuu is going out of his way quite a bit for him, after all. So he sighs, but only quietly, and turns over, adjusting the blanket so that it's covering Kashuu as well. If he remembers correctly, Kashuu's feet get colder than his hands, so he does his best to toss it over him in a way that will cover them.]

Don't drool on my pillowcase, I just washed it. [Because saying "good night, Kiyomitsu, thank you for staying with me" is far too logical, and Yamato does have a little tsun in him.

(But he doesn't turn back over to grab the bokuto again. Instead, his fingers find their way to Kashuu's back--not quite latching onto his shirt, just resting there, drawn to the steady warmth of his presence. Yamato isn't always so tactile, but when he's in the mood, it's a constant thing.

He doesn't think about the fact that Kashuu's the only one he's ever done it to.

He doesn't think about anything at all, really. Because he'd been certain that sleep was a lost cause, but with Kashuu safely close by, the exhaustion from his earlier panic hits him in full force. He drifts off quickly.)

He doesn't dream again tonight.]

IC inbox; recolle

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