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

[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 opens his mouth to cut in, to say something about how alien things in the brain aren't the only problems, but besides being actually murdered, they're probably second place? He can agree with that. He pivots instead to:]

I'm hit-able with a cricket bat.

[—which is both a joke and not, all things considered. He shakes his head slightly, then,] I mean, if I start going off the rails, maybe. One free hit.

[That part isn't a joke, please knock him out if he starts looking for sharp objects.]

Did you get some secret ability from all this? I promise this is just, uh, me asking.

No, [ he says, immediately, to the part about being hit-able and the free hit — there's something steely in his tone, like he recognises the point and yet refuses to agree.

he pulls back, then, just to be able to look junpei in the eyes when he says, fully serious, ] No way that I'm ever gonna hurt you, yeah? Not even if the aliens get the best of you. [ i'd rather die again than do that hangs unspoken, there, because charles may not value his own existence too much when placed against that of others, sure, but he's at least learned that saying things like this usually ends with people lecturing at him.

which is why it's a relief when the topic shifts. ] Nah, not me. That's why I meant it, that it's — you know, fine if I'm here. Not that I wouldn't love to — [ be able to heal you, he thinks, and then swallows it back because he doesn't want to trigger the gnos even more than he already has, probably, just by his presence only. ]

Anyway. Guess they figured that being a ghost's good enough for me.

[One of these days, Junpei will learn to stop doing things like this—volunteering himself for violence, trying to take himself out of commission for the sake of others. This isn't his first stern talking-to about this very issue; maybe with enough repetition it will finally stick.

But he doesn't have anything to say to that, least of all because swerving into "it was just a joke" would be both dishonest and, hm, tacky? Dismissive of him by any metric, and the Gnos can make him want to kill but it can't make him want to be... well, an asshole. Not when it matters.

Instead then, half-mumbled:] I just thought... Sorry.

[And he lapses into silence with only a brief hum acknowledging Charles' lack of a special role or whatever the internet guy called it. Is it better? Is it fine, actually, that Charles' only defense against Gnos is being a ghost? Will that hold, always? Is that a maxim he can test—]

Uh, [he lets go of Charles too abruptly for it not to be a Gnos thing, but scoots to the side on the box and pats the other half next to him. Compromise: a worse angle for trying to strangle somebody.]

Maybe there's a suggestion box for complaints...

[ sorry, junpei says, and charles just shakes his head with the shadow of a smile — don't worry about it, because, well, he gets it, doesn't he? he thinks he might have said the same, if things were reversed. he gets what it's like, to look at your life and weigh it against others' and find yours lacking. he knows what it's like to throw yourself against danger over and over, just to make sure someone else isn't hurting.

he blinks at junpei's quick move, and then thinks, right, course, and immediately feels bad about possibly having made things worse for him without intending to.

and maybe he should just, you know, move back across the room or something, but he's shifting over and plopping down on the box regardless, knocking their shoulders together. ]

Ha, yeah. You think they'd listen? [ what a joke, that. ] This place... seemed pretty harmless, you know? Until now. [ he sighs and tips his head back, looking at the ceiling. ] Kinda wish I'd studied some magic, now. Pretty sure there's a spell or three out there that'd be helpful right about now.

[The shoulder bump is a relief, despite himself; he still half expects Charles to wise up and get out of here, considering the obvious problem. Each time Charles continues to stay, Junpei can't help but feel, well, guilty-but-grateful. As long as he doesn't lose control and Charles gets out of here just fine, Junpei will be—fine.

Mostly fine.]

What, like, fireball City Hall?

[Okay, that one is a joke—]

Historically, I don't think this kind of asshole ever listens. What spells are you thinking?

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

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