expiationlogs | ( closed 👻 the case of the murder-causing mind infection )

[ look, it's not that charles is very specifically scouring the entire city for the few people he counts among the number of friends i would die a second time for — but he's... not not doing that, either. in his defense, the entire city is on metaphorical fire, people are murdering others left and right, and the locals are barricaded in their homes; he thinks he has a reason to be a tad concerned.

it takes him several hours and mirror-hopping until he's dizzy with it, but finally he spots someone who looks very much like junpei, and he doesn't really stop to register where he is, or where the other's going, or anything — he just yells out, ]

Oi, Junpei! Wait up!

[ his shout echoes from the buildings; and when it clearly... well, either falls on deaf ears, or junpei elects to ignore him (and that smarts a bit, but hey, charles is nothing if not persistent), he promptly follows into the building his friend's disappeared into, stepping straight through the door.

and then just blinks. ] Where the hell are we? [ what... is he looking at. what is this place. explanations, please. ]

[When the first message alerting the Chosen to this thing—Gnosia infection—hits, Junpei can't help but think, oh, someone thinks they are soooo goddamn hilarious. Then he thinks I told you so, which has far less oomph when he thinks it in the privacy of his room at the inn, and then—

GNOSIA

So that's not great. He decides he's better off avoiding everyone else until this thing rides itself out, which works until his mind starts literally fighting him about wanting to kill people, so in a genuine effort to keep the murderous impulse quiet, he has found himself an empty building and he has built...

Well. He's built. Even "built" might be pushing it; the room Charles follows him into is definitely set up in a way that suggests a purpose, but it's a touch unfinished. Some of the props are pieces of paper with, honestly, shit drawings or just words written on them for what they should be—the most visible one is sitting inside an open cabinet at shin height, and it just says "LEG".

So he's working on it. The room itself looks like it's used to store kitchen appliances and glass display cases, like from a bakery or a convenience store. The microwave sitting on a pushcart doesn't belong; it might not be plugged in.

Junpei, for his part, startles when he finally hears Charles speak and spins around from where he's writing "ARM" on another piece of paper.]

Uh—huh? Wait, what are you doing in here? You can't be in here.

[ at that supremely intelligent remark, charles blinks, and then looks at himself, quite deliberately, before sweeping his gaze over the maybe-once-a-storage-room, and then finally looking back at his friend. ]

Well, mate, sorry to tell you this, but looks like I can.

[ as if to prove his point, he finds an errant stepladder, there out of the way near the wall, and props himself up on it like it's a comfortable chair. he lounges on it the way one might if they were prepared to sit there for a very long time indeed. ]

Seriously, though, what's going on here? You okay? [ him being a little shit aside — real concern seeps into his tone there at the end, and his brows furrow, his eyes reflecting his true reason for being here: that he's worried. ]

[Pointedly, Junpei puts his ARM paper into the microwave and shuts the door. This means functionally nothing, but he's frazzled; he's in the middle of preparing his brilliantly hands-off murder machine, and then Charles just comes in? And he's just sitting there!!]

You can't stay in here, because it's— it's not done.

[He stands there and stares for a moment, looking both exhausted and exasperated, and then crosses the room back to the door. All things considered he would rather not trap Charles in a horrible room designed to psychologically torture (stay with him on this), but if he's already here-!!]

The door didn't even lock...? [.......oh,] Oh. Ghost.

[He doesn't move away from the door, just kind of... thunking his head into it... and standing there. Give him a minute.]

[ what, charles thinks, the actual fuck.

has junpei lost his mind? is that what's happening here? because it sure looks like that. but in that case — well, he can't leave him alone even more so, then, because being alone sucks on a normal day, and then if you're actively in the middle of losing it, it sucks even more.

which is why he abandons his plan of perching on the stepladder like a pigeon and hops up, walking carefully over to junpei, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. ]

Oi. Just, listen to me, yeah? Ever since this whole shit started, I didn't know if you were doing all right, or what. So of course I was gonna come and see you. And now that I'm here — well, seems to me you could use some company. So... talk to me?

[Junpei would like, actually, to stand here and lean on this closed door and just wait until he either passes out or stops thinking involuntary thoughts about murder. Either would be fine!!! But alas: he has to live in the real world, and the real world Junpei can only flinch and tense up when Charles comes closer. Proximity may be related to murder urges, stop that--

In any case, he immediately wants to say "I am doing fucking terrible" and "company is the worst idea," but in his haggard state what comes out is:]

I am doing the worst idea, [which is practically the same anyway. He makes a face at the door.]

Don't know what you want me to say... This is a trap. [He gestures behind them without actually turning, like obviously this is all a trap. So clearly a trap.] From someone else's explanation, though, so...

[well he wrote ARM and LEG on pieces of paper. he knows how it looks.]

Right, [ says charles, in the tone of someone who might say "i see" while very much not seeing, at all, actually. but the more he starts to puzzle it out — well, the thing is? he's a detective. you don't solve cases for thirty years without coming out on the other side with some actual deduction skills.

and from junpei's immediate horror at discovering charles there, to his tired appearance, to the haphazard explanation of a trap —

well. it doesn't take a genius to put together a semi-clear picture of what's going on. ]

Right, [ he repeats, before grabbing onto junpei's shoulders and spinning him around with ease, forcing his friend to actually look at him. only after that does charles say, far more calmly than he actually feels, ] Look, I don't know what's going on here, but I'm guessing you're infected. Well, good news, you can't kill me. You could literally stab me in the heart right now and I wouldn't die. So — no need to catastrophise about me being here, yeah? I've got you. Just... let me help? [ and unless junpei actually, forcefully pushes him away, he's going to step in to draw him into a tight hug. ]

[Oh-- hey. Junpei gives him a look that's stuck between tragic and wildly confused for a second; he's trying to make his pitch that Charles should leave, and he just--insists? On staying? To help?

Somewhere under the roiling current of Gnos, Junpei is touched in the same moment that he's surprised— there are so few people in his life he can really rely on, and here's this guy he's practically just met, offering to help him while knowing full well he's wild on this murder infection.]

I don't think it's going to go away that easily... I mean, I'm not infected.

[I'm not, half-assed, because he absolutely and overtly is, and half-mumbled into Charles' shoulder as he gets pulled into a hug. It helps. It doesn't much quiet the persistent urge of Gnos at the back of his mind, but it helps.

He sighs eventually, then,] So, uh... I don't want to kill anybody.

I know, [ charles answers, and his words are easy and matter-of-fact and honest, like it's a fact he just knows, like it isn't the gnos in junpei's mind trying to convince him to say things that he doesn't feel but a real, true fact that is still true, somewhere there beneath the infection.

and the thing is — charles rowland is the type of guy whose first instinct to anything emotional is to deflect, to laugh it away, to change the subject. but sometimes.... sometimes there's things important enough to throw that instinct in the trash.

which is why, when he finally pulls back after giving junpei another tight squeeze, he doesn't go far, still keeps a hold on his shoulders with his arms there, a cold but steady weight. ] But you're not alone, you hear me? I'll keep you company. I can be here and you don't have to worry, I can go out there and get you food and stuff and you don't, you know, have to be around living people. And when me being here starts to be worse than better, well, you just tell me to get lost and I will, yeah? But not before that.

And if — [ he bites his lips, draws a breath, ] — If at the end, you do end up killing someone? It won't be your fault. None of this shit is your fault. So when your brain's back to normal, I want you to remember that.

[The Gnos feels like a physical presence sitting somewhere inside of his skull, the way he's trying so desperately to resist it. Like some kind of evil sci-fi symbiote pushing his buttons and getting more insistent the longer he tells it no, and just waiting for him to finally give up and give in.

But Charles just says I know, and then all that other stuff that Junpei is a teensy bit blindsided by—does he really merit this kind of full-time looking after? wow—and then It won't be your fault, and Junpei tries to focus on that, instead of the wriggling Gnos thoughts.

He looks to the side, at his... creative set design.]

...Okay. Thanks. Maybe you should just knock me out and roll me under one of these boxes for a week.

[Haha! Unless...? He makes a face.]

Don't know why you're putting in all the effort for me, but I'm not gonna say no. But, uh, I need to— [a little gesture, at the room] do this, or I'll definitely lose it.

[ with supreme confidence, charles just ignores the part about knocking him out and focuses on what comes after — it's not really posed as a question, but he takes it as one anyway, squeezing his hand into a fist and very gently knocking his knuckles on the side of junpei's head. ]

It's cause I care about you, you numpty.

[ said just as matter-of-fact as his i know from earlier, except this time his tone is half exasperated, half fond. ]

But sure, you do... [ charles blinks, looking around properly, trying to make sense of the space. ] What is this, actually?

[Hey, hey, that's his head. Junpei tilts his head away like Charles' little knock was a lot harder than it was, compulsively committing to the bit—but he does manage a short chuckle.]

Yeah, yeah.

[He steps a bit reluctantly away from Charles and back into the center of the room, where he turns back to face him and holds out his arms in a half-hearted tada kind of motion.]

This is... the pantry. Or it's supposed to be. I don't remember it very well.

[ the over-acting makes charles grin, too, if only for a moment — but the levity is good, brightens the mood for a bit, there, even though charles has to cross his arms to keep himself from reaching to junpei, keeping him within easy touching distance; but that's his problem, that, the compulsive fear at the back of his mind that the second he's too far away from those he cares about something horrible will happen.

(and he can see it, now, the skittering demon creature snatching his best friend from right next to him, leaving charles useless and powerless and helpless, just as helpless as he's now, just as useless in helping with the thing in junpei's brain, no matter how much he wants to do something.)

luckily, the explanation — or the lack of it — distracts him from his thoughts. ]

Wait. What do you mean, you don't remember it? [ he looks around, again, at the names of fucking limbs written on paper and says, far more calmly than he feels, ] Don't tell me those mean, like, actual limbs?

[Junpei stands there still with his arms out, holding the pose and only deflating a little bit when he's questioned about it. The push of the Gnos really, really would like him to test that earlier maxim, the one about stabbing Charles to death (....2!!), so it takes him a second to forcibly shove that thought down and then drop his arms to his sides.

And maybe he'd be more tight-lipped about everything that happened in the underground shelter, but, well. He's half-crazy from Gnos, he tells himself, and Charles is here looking out for him on purpose, so. Okay.]

Uh, well... No, yeah, you're doing the math right on that.

[A beat, and he turns away to fiddle with the unplugged microwave, which is mostly just to have something to do besides just stare Charles in the face while explaining himself.]

Before I got here, I was in this big, fancy bunker, I guess? There was a pantry in there. Somebody had to tell me about it, since I was kind of... [um, well, he holds up the ARM paper and trails off.]

[ intellectually, charles is aware that he's still standing right there in the middle of the room, that he's staring at junpei fiddling with the microwave, that there are words being spoken — but they sound like they're coming from very far away, and he blinks, because, right, he — he heard wrong, yeah?

surely he heard wrong.

surely that doesn't mean — ]

You, [ says charles, and then unfortunately also ends, because that's about all he can manage.

it takes him maybe a second (or a minute, or five, he's frankly not entirely sure anymore) to open his mouth again. ] So, you mean —

[ god. god. ]

What, [ charles says, with a kind of desperation, before adding, just for good measure, ] Fuck.

[For the first time he's ever tried to explain this to someone, Junpei thinks it's going about as well as it could, which mostly means it seems like Charles is at least believing him. That's a plus.

...Well, maybe "plus" is not a good word. It's something. He sighs and turns around, leaning on the microwave's little pushcart.]

How much do you know about quantum mechanics? [....or, more like,] Well, the many-worlds interpretation. The cat in the box? I'm not the cat, but it's close.

[ of course charles believes him. the problem here is that charles would, in fact, very much like to not believe him.

the mention of quantum mechanics, though, reminds him suddenly of their first meeting — the words quantum murder on a piece of paper — and he has to cast his mind about for what little he actually does know. ]

Uh, not much, if I'm honest. It's something about the cat being alive and dead at the same time, innit? [ he pauses, visibly to think. ] So... what, you were dead and alive at the same time?

Yeah, that's the one. But I wasn't— Well... [He has to think about it; there were definitely times, he knows, where he could have opened a particular door and seen his own corpse, but is that the same? Not the way it was a year ago, so—] No, not really. Maybe.

[He makes a face, one that will undoubtedly become familiar as the face he makes when the Gnos itches, and he moves to start moving some boxes around again. Pushing the microwave cart to a few different places. Nothing meaningful, but to keep himself at a baseline of almost-normal.]

So, the cat is alive and dead at the same time, right? But in the many-worlds interpretation, that means that the cat is alive in one timeline—let's call it History A, and it's dead in History B. Two histories, but one cat. It's like that movie where the guy goes back in time and meets his parents when they're in high school, and then his own life changes.

[He nudges a box out of a corner with his foot, then sits down on it, leaning his elbows on his knees. Ugh...]

Some people... uh, including me— some people can switch histories. So no, no one ever cut me up and threw me in a freezer, but that's only true for the versions of me that don't get swapped into the wrong history. Get it?

[ to his credit, charles actually takes a moment to really think about it — the differing timelines being actually easier to get a grasp of, now, with having met the different scotts here, and really, it's not that hard, right? timeline a, means alive, timeline b, means dead.

... well. simple in theory. he tries to wrap his head around the whole switching histories thing, and isn't entirely sure if he really does get it. quietly, he mutters, ] Edwin'd get all of this in like a heartbeat.

[ he sighs, runs his hand through his short curls, and then nods. ] Yeah, I think I do. The principle of it, anyway. So there's different timelines, one you, and different shit happens in different timelines, yeah? The you that's — [ he waves his hand towards the paper that reads arm ] — that, well, it wasn't you but it... what, could've been? If you'd ended up on that timeline?

[Junpei raises an eyebrow, and quietly adds "big nerd" to his mental notes of stuff he knows about this Edwin guy. He's probably not even explaining it as well as Akane or Sigma could, but, well. Does he want to see them? Not like this, certainly.

He doesn't want to think about them right now; he shrugs.]

Well... kind of. I don't remember anything close to "just before getting thrown in a freezer," so that history is a couple degrees removed from me. And maybe "one" isn't the best explanation, either... I mean, that other history still happened. My friends remember it. The other histories are still there.

[He frowns and sits up straighter, to twist around and look for his prop paper; maybe he should try drawing a diagram. While he looks for paper,] Like I said, I wasn't really there when my friends were in the pantry—the other pantry, so I figured this was the safest, uh, trap to set up.

[It's Extremely Shitty On Purpose]

Jesus. [ charles grimaces and shakes his head. ] Yeah, all right, I tried my best. But you lost me at "that other history still happened". Just — think I got the gist of it, anyways.

[ there's a faint undercurrent of something almost apologetic in his tone, almost like he wants to say sorry for not getting it. instead, though, he blinks and looks around, and — well, this part he has no difficulty getting. because if junpei wasn't there, well, then he can't do it very well, can he?

which means he's doing his damned best to set up something that's not good.

charles, his chest feeling at once like something is stabbing him and yet stupidly light, suddenly feels an overwhelming urge to give his friend another hug. he grips the edge of the desk he's leaning against to stay rooted in place, though, and instead says, sounding just a bit choked, ] You — you're bloody brills, you know that, yeah? All this — you're setting it up to fail.

Well, uh, it's like... [He stops himself and just stares briefly up at the ceiling, like, wait a second-] Forget it. I can explain it some other time.

[Possibly with diagrams! And even more movie references, if he can manage it. There's no point in regaling Charles with the worst details of swapping histories and what all that entails, anyway; he's got an uncomfortable feeling that talking about more violence is going to do nasty things to his psyche, for the obvious reasons. Really supercharge the overall problem, so—

Some other time. Look forward to it.

He has grabbed another piece of paper though, and now uses it as another thing to busy his hands, folding it in half and then in half again, giving it a rueful grin. Brills.]

Maybe I'm an underachiever. [ha ha.] Don't say it too loud or my cursed alien brain is going to figure out I'm not a team player.

[ some other time sounds just fine — not least because charles is, by every passing minute, feeling more and more that he wants to hit a wall out of the sheer injustice that this is; that someone who's so good is cursed to be stuck here, slowly losing his mind while still doing his level best to not hurt anyone.

he's moving before he knows it, crossing the floor in two quick strides, dropping down in front of the box junpei's sitting on. ] Sorry, [ he says, genuinely apologetic. ] Meant that this is — looking like a proper trap room.

[ his words sound somewhat choked, again, and he — you know what, fuck this. ] I'm gonna give you another hug now, [ he declares, telegraphing his movements just in case, drawing him into a hug that's somehow both more careful and yet tighter than before, but just as fully meant, ] Because this fucking sucks and I'm so, so sorry this is happening.

[ he says all of this into junpei's shoulder. ]

[Much better, definitely a highly skilled trap room. Junpei scoffs, but there's a sliver of amusement in it; it's—nice? of Charles to play along with his stupid bits, even now. He'll definitely owe him after this, so "how to make ghost spaghetti" is rocketing up his list of personal goals, which feels at once incredibly silly and the only thing he can think about that isn't influenced by the Gnos.

And oh, he manages a surprised little,] Yeah, sure, [and then sort of haltingly leans into the hug, embarrassed despite himself. How sad is it that he's been through the fucked up murder game roulette twice already and immediately gets hit with the Gnos infection, here? It's so—

Mmph. He'll think about that some other time, too. Just as haltingly he moves to return the hug, trying to be as normal as possible about it when Charles is still speaking and the influence of Gnos pipes up to make Junpei uncomfortably aware of how hugging is, you know, a pretty convenient position to grab somebody's neck, isn't it? Even if Charles said nothing can happen to him, it takes all of Junpei's self control to keep this hug below the shoulder blades, to be goddamn normal about it.

So, uh. He kind of huhs his acknowledgement, stiffly. It's fine! He's fine. He's only thinking about spaghetti.]

Yeah. It's— yeah. ...Are you okay? That post online said something about other... stuff. [he forgor, but.]

[ the question, innocently meant, hits charles in the chest like a proper punch — because, what the hell. so not only is junpei doing his level best to stop himself from killing anyone, he's also, what, concerned about how charles of all people is doing?

if he ever, ever finds who's responsible for this infection thing — well. the results won't be pretty for whoever that is, that's for sure.

it takes him a second before he lifts his head up, another second to find some approximation of a smile and inject some levity into his tone as he says, ]

Well, not the one here with weird alien things in my brain, am I? [ and then he adds, a little softer, ] You don't need to worry about me, yeah? I'm good. Just — my kind of problem's a problem I can actually, you know, hit with a cricket bat. Makes me feel right useless when it's something... else.

👻 JUNPEI.

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