expiationlogs | ( OPEN 💀 case of the glitching city )

[Why is he saying sorry? He flipped out when Charles was already not doing well; it feels to Junpei like he added a third stressor to the situation, much as Mr. Rowland deserved what he got. He can only shrug a little limply, like, well, it happened, and he's not hurt so that's a non-starter anyway—]

Wait, what?

[It's heartbreaking to hear, and now Junpei moves to sit, jostling them both in his haste to get an arm around Charles and squeeze.]

Hey, come on. 'Course it was worth it. I'm not going to stand there and let anybody treat you like that.

[Which is a simple fact as far as he's concerned: if he's there, he's going to step in, that's nonnegotiable. So instead of further explanation, he says,] Shame you didn't get to talk to your mom.

[ it's just as well that he moves on from that statement about not letting anyone treat him like that quickly, because charles finds he doesn't know what to say in response — but none of what he said was untrue, he thinks, and the words burn inside his throat before he swallows them down; no one cared when i was alive, he thinks, except it's not quite true, because his mum did care, she did, patching him up and taking him to the hospital in the few times it was required, but he also remembers her quiet voice, telling him you know what to do, beta, we keep it in the family, remembers her standing there and turning away and never once helping him —

in the end, he says nothing, just leans against him. and he remains quiet until junpei mentions his mum, and he just shakes his head. ] Wasn't really her, though, was it? She's —

[ his voice hiccups slightly, despite himself, and he has to swallow before continuing, ] She's good, back home. I, um, I check in on them, every week. I can make the mirror show them, you know? And she's... she's fine. He's not, you know, he's not — she's fine. And that's, that's good.

[ the words are a struggle to get out, and he doesn't quite manage to say he's not beating her anymore, the words stuck inside his trachea; and somewhere far, far deeper, the words and i'm glad but why is it that he couldn't find it in himself to be good when i was alive never see the light of day, either. because, well, his dad was right, wasn't he? they're better off without him. now that he's not there, his mum is safe, the way she never was when he was there, hurting her just by existing. ]

[It wasn't really her, but then again, it wasn't really his father, either, was it? Junpei frowns around that thought and doesn't voice it, won't stir those waters any more than they've been disturbed already. So he simply listens in silence, rubbing a hand up and down Charles' arm, comforting.

Eventually,] Yeah, well, that doesn't make your dad less of a piece of shit. I should've hit him sooner.

[Or harder; either way. Either way he can't speak to the depths of their... family dynamic, he's not even going to try. The most he can do is be here and listen, with all the patience and compassion he can muster while pointedly tamping down his anger at Mr. Rowland.

...But first,] He's wrong about you. If you're not going to believe it, I'll just believe it, uh, more. Twice as much.

[ to the first part of it, charles gives a wet chuckle. ] Not going to argue with either of those things, am I?

[ because, yeah, he knows his dad's an asshole. and though he wouldn't have expected junpei to step in at all, in any way... well. he can't exactly say his dad didn't deserve it, or wouldn't have deserved it even earlier.

the second part, though? again, he feels strangely helpless in the face of it all, managing only a tremulous smile at first. it is with a fortifying breath that he says, infusing some levity into his tone despite it all, ] Stop being sweet, I'm trying to feel sorry for myself, here.

[ and though he phrases it like it's not entirely serious it, is — because how is he supposed to feel anything but real damn grateful that even if he can't quite believe that he's not exactly just as useless as his dad said, it doesn't matter; if junpei believes it, then maybe, just maybe, he's right. maybe, just maybe, charles can believe in him even if he can't believe in himself. and so he says, quiet and sincere, ] ... Thanks.

[Junpei scoffs and gives Charles another squeeze, like, good, he'd better not argue about either of those things.

Then he's quiet again, trying to let his thoughts settle and calm at the same time. This is... fine; this is an improvement.]

Anytime. [A beat.] I care about you, so... If you want to just sit for a while, that's fine.

[If he wants to sulk, that is; if he needs to mope, Junpei can sit here and wait. He knows pulling yourself out of a hole doesn't happen as instantaneously as you'd like, so just like when Charles had told him about his death, he's good to just be here.]

[ it's funny how easy it is for him, to talk about the fact he cares about junpei — it's just a fact, now, something he could say just as easily and with as much conviction as something like "the sun will rise tomorrow" or "the water boils at a hundred degrees celsius", you know? and yet, hearing it said back at him? makes him feel out of his depth, even at the same time as it makes him feel warm and pleased.

he sighs and shakes his head. ] Nah, what I'd really want is to forget all about all of that, but... [ not going to happen, that, is it? so instead, he huffs something of a laugh, self-deprecating though it is. ]

Just, thought that was the one thing I wouldn't have to deal with, anymore. That if there was one good thing about being dead, then that was not having to talk to my dad ever again.

[It feels almost as disorienting to say, not because it isn't true, but because Junpei is - perhaps obvious by now - an action-before-words kind of guy. Saying out loud that he cares about Charles, or anyone really, feels clumsy every time, like he forgets how to put the words together in that order.

But he did say it, so hurdle sufficiently... hurdled. Anyway.]

Let's hope that was the first and only time he'll show his face here, then. If I'm around, he'll know better.

[He raises his fist and gives it a little shake, comical - and yet absolutely serious at the same time, he is ready and waiting to break something else, if needs must.]

[ gently, charles lifts his hand and lets his fingers curl around and over junpei's fist, pulling it back down — a de-escalation handhold, as it were. he doesn't let go. ]

Thank you, [ he says again, stronger this time, fully meant. and because he didn't manage this before and should have, ] And sorry. You shouldn't have...

[ shouldn't have what? had to bother with it all? seen that? because — yeah, alright, charles can be honest with himself about this: he wouldn't have told junpei about his home life. he knows it just as certainly as he knows that he wouldn't have told edwin, either, if it hadn't been for the devlin house case, and isn't it ironic that both back home and here, he had absolutely no choice over inflicting his worst wounds on those he cares about the most?

he's suddenly aware that his hold on junpei's hand must be uncomfortably tight, and he lets out a breath, lets his fingers relax just a bit. ] You shouldn't have had to see that. You've got enough to deal with without my shit on top of it.

[Oh, alright, maybe he won't start swinging without thinking about it. As far as Junpei is concerned - well first of all, he should get to punch as many awful dads as he likes, actually, but really: Charles shouldn't have to apologize for this. It's uncomfortable and awkward enough to have to share something so unpleasantly personal, just because this city is broken in some fundamental, impossible way—

He wiggles his hand out from Charles' grip and covers his hand, instead. See, no more fists, he's behaving.]

Nice thought, but you don't have to look out for me this time. I'm a mess, you're a mess, it doesn't matter, because I'm going to— [hey chat is "protect you" too weird and forward,] —you know, be there. I'm on your side.

[ for a long, horrible moment, charles thinks that this is what's going to do it, that he's going to burst into tears right then and there — he has to look up and spend a few seconds just breathing, in and out, and will the tears away from his eyes. and it's stupid, really, that the thing to get to him isn't his dad and his horrible everything but rather the freely-given kindness and care from someone charles didn't even know, like, two months ago.

eventually, he looks back at junpei, something soft and quiet in his eyes as he says, ] Well, think I'd rather you be here, though. [ instead of there, you know —

a really bad attempt at a joke aside, it's not even really a joke at all, because he means it — nothing feels quite as bad when he's here with him, and the fact this is what he truly means is right there in his eyes. ]

[Ah, the old staring at nothing to not cry trick, how familiar. Junpei pats him on the hand in what he hopes is a reassuring way and not, say, awkward and bumbling, then:]

Wait, what? [—oh!!] Oh, yeah, right. Got it.

[Sorry, he was so deep in his soulful little speech he forgot about wordplay for a second. He huffs out a noise that isn't quite a laugh, a release of nerves that have been pulled taut this whole time. He leans back with a sigh that's more of the same; somehow, it's Charles making this incredibly bad joke that makes him feel like things are getting back on track.]

Yeah, you're pretty much stuck with me, so, uh... good.

[ well, joke's on him, because any attempt at comfort from him is reassuring, no matter how badly executed.

charles doesn't quite relax, but he isn't quite so tense anymore, either — but then junpei speaks, and charles stares at him dumbly for a second, because — looks like you're stuck with me, he hears his own voice from thirty-five years ago, echoing back at him, and the thing is? back then, it had been him, deciding to run from death, to avoid passing onto his afterlife, and declaring unceremoniously that he'd be staying with edwin, who had let him.

he's not prepared for the light-headed feeling that comes from being on the other side of the equation. and he can't manage to say it — can't manage to say anything, in fact, instead just turning towards junpei and dragging him into a hug.

and then, drawing in a startled breath, as if something fundamental has changed during one heartbeat and the next (and it has, it has, junpei will be able to feel it too, the way charles' touch isn't so cold as it normally is), he chokes out, ] I can feel you.

[ because normally, ghosts... well, ghosts can't truly feel the living, it's more of an impression, the knowledge that the touch is there, at once very real and yet not. and while he's certainly felt all of their hugs before, in that particular way that ghosts do, it's never been like this. ]

[Ah, and that's better, this time when he's pulled in Junpei feels like there's been, well, he doesn't know what the word for it would be, not really. Progress sounds strange, like Charles is a problem to solve, same for breakthrough, so—he'll settle for better. Less shaky now, more solid, more resolute. Enough that, after an actual chuckle this time, he leans into the hug, which also feels more solid, in a way he can't place until—]

Oh, shit, [he says, incredulous, because that's the thing! He's felt Charles this whole time, has even gotten used to how different it is to feel him, but oh shit!! The body pressed against him now would never be able to phase through a door; he can't help but squeeze tighter, just in case. Just to verify that yeah, that is a totally non-ghost Charles, huh.]

You're— How?

[Given what they've just faced off against, and the various people complaining lately about their powers - some fundamental, core thing about them - changing, he can guess. So maybe he's just saying how to say anything at all. He doesn't particularly care about the logistics right this second.

He slides a hand up to... poke Charles in the back of the head.]

You feel that?

[ how is the question — through his shock, charles thinks it must be that the entire place is just not working right, and if it's possible for his dad to suddenly appear here, well, makes sense that these changes might just turn him human, too, doesn't it? or maybe, he thinks, this place threw his dad at him and is now trying to balance the scales by giving him this, too.

he doesn't know how long it's going to last, but, well... tightening his arms around junpei and shifting slightly to rest his cheek against his head, charles thinks that this isn't a bad way to spend whatever time he has in a human body. not bad at all. ]

Dunno,

[ he says to the first question, eloquently, falling silent again and taking a deep breath that actually feels his lungs with air. he lets the air out on an exhale, slowly, letting himself relax into the hug, the last of the tension from earlier bleeding away —

at least until he feels a tap against his head and yelps, affronted, ] Oi! [ yes he feels that?? ]

[Haha, oops— Junpei tries not to laugh, fails, and pulls his hand away to pointedly not poke again.]

Sorry, sorry! Couldn't help it. Don't get mad.

[The hand comes back with an apologetic hair ruffle and lingers there at the back of Charles' head, as Junpei really doesn't want to actually spoil the moment. How Charles is warm and alive again quickly becomes secondary to the question of for how long this will hold, and Junpei's first thought is—

Well, it's that he can badger Charles into trying the smoothies he was talking about earlier. But his second thought is it would be a shame to waste it on trying to be funny. If hugging him on this park bench is a better use of whatever time limit there is, then that's... well, that's a thing people do...

Yeah. People do this for absolutely everyday reasons. Junpei leans back just enough so that he's not continuously talking to Charles' shoulder to ask,]

So... now what? [He's already convinced of the looming threat of an unknown time limit from thinking about it once, so,] You got any things you really miss doing?

Wouldn't get mad at you, now would I?

[ his tone carries amusement despite his words being entirely genuine — because he can't really think of a scenario where he'd be genuinely angry with junpei, unless he was putting himself in unnecessary danger, maybe, but that doesn't count.

he makes a little pleased noise at the hair ruffles, though, and tilts his head back into the touch like a cat. but the same thought crosses his mind, too — this is likely on a time limit, and as happy as he would be, staying here and holding junpei for the entirety of that time until he can imprint the memory of it all so deep into the ghostly atoms that make up his brain that he'll be able to feel this every time they hug —

well. he can't just expect it to be okay, can he, and furthermore they're on a park bench and bound to get some weird looks.

so now what, junpei says, and charles is about to suggest that they do, in fact, go try the smoothies because why not, except then there's more words spoken and charles —

in the same moment, he's sitting in an old attic, freezing and with a blanket uselessly wrapped around him, holding a lantern and talking to a ghost he's just met, and he hears himself ask if there's anything edwin misses from being alive, hears himself say "think i'd miss kissing" and —

no, nope, that's it, his brain is done, all systems offline, charles.exe has stopped working. because now that the thought is there it's not leaving, and charles can feel himself open his mouth and then promptly close it again, while his mind is stuck on some weird loop of remembering junpei leaning into his hug in the storage room, his delighted laughter in his room back at the inn, his stupidly endearing jokes, the way he'd looked, earlier, stepping between charles and his dad, radiating fury —

what, thinks charles, rather helplessly, before he manages to say, slightly strained, ] Uh, can't really say.

[ and he just hopes junpei takes that to mean that he doesn't know, rather than him literally being unable to get the words out of his mouth, because the last thing he needs is to give his brain any more bad ideas by speaking the words out loud. ]

[Ah, Charles really has to stop saying things like that, or Junpei won't know what to do with himself. He already feels like Charles has given him the biggest pass of all time - taking care of him while he was being a bitchy murder-crazed weirdo in a storage room - but somehow the sentiment is a lot more to think about when he's just being annoying! Jeez!

(And if Junpei feels Charles lean back into his hand and immediately threads his fingers into those curls, well, that is immaterial. An automatic response. Who could blame him for this.)

Then, with a disbelieving scoff:] For real? Nothing? You're kidding me.

[Surely he must be, or as Junpei assumes from the sudden tightness in his voice, he's simply too overwhelmed by the options to throw a mental dart and pick one. Junpei thinks he can sympathize if not actually understand; he'd have a reverse bucket list a mile long if it were him, filled with all kinds of dumb stuff like "get a haircut" and "learn to roller skate" and other little nothings.

So if Charles can't think of anything, Junpei is left to come up with, only half joking,] Spaghetti?

Holy shit, [ charles says, eyes wide, because — yeah, that's true, he could actually find some pasta now. whether he's going to stay like this long enough to get some and actually eat it is another matter, but he should try, shouldn't he — ]

You're brills, [ he says then with a wide, beaming smile, darting in to give junpei another squeezing hug before pulling back with a, ] I could kiss you for that, mate.

[ aaaand all right so that's that failed, not saying the words out loud, and charles smothers the urge to actually do as he's saying because it's just the human-ness in him talking, right, brought on by their proximity and it's right unfair of him to even think about it so he won’t! it's just a saying, anyway.

and then he's drawing back, pushing himself upright and pulling junpei with him, because, well, if they're going to try and find a place serving italian food they better get on it immediately. ]

For spaghetti? [—ha ha, and what an interesting turn of phrase, one Junpei has never stopped to think about before and so certainly isn't lingering on now, not that or the feel of Charles' arms or the look on his face, so thrilled about literal pasta. Ah—

No, none of that. Just the spaghetti now. Charles pulls and Junpei follows, and first he thinks maybe the inn can be convinced to give them spaghetti, but that feels like asking for disaster. Or like, hospital grade pasta.]

You're the night roamer; are there any places around here that look nice?

Spaghetti's important! [ hey, don't knock his favourite food —

but he starts racking his brains, trying to think where they are and where the places he's idly taken note of are relative to the park — eventually, he starts leading them along the path to the left in a brisk walk. all the while he's explaining, so excited his words kind of run into each other, ]

There's this one small restaurant, right in between the entertainment district and then the area round the docks, reckon that might do — I pop in sometimes to see the owners, I helped the old lady carry in new furniture a few weeks back. She's real nice, and the food looks aces, she uses all fresh herbs and shit, none of that store-bought stuff, you know? [ he actually has to stop for breath, here, because, you know, lungs and all now. ]

Anyway, even if I turn back before we get the food, pretty sure you'll like it, so it's not a wasted trip however it goes.

[This is—kind of adorable, Junpei thinks as Charles explains the entire backstory of this restaurant in one single breath. Adorable enough that he doesn't even bother pointing out that it's the middle of the afternoon and he doesn't really need a whole plate of spaghetti, this is an activity For Charles, just-]

Yeah, I bet. Sounds good, not like your usual "crayons on the paper tablecloth" kind of place.

[Not that he, a whole adult, would still draw a cool S on a paper tablecloth at a chain restaurant or anything. Maybe a single dojob face. Doesn't matter. They're going to the old lady's fresh herbs spaghetti place (tm), and Charles is being endearing about it. Junpei nudges him to go a little faster; who cares if they arrive at a sensible jog, there's pasta at stake and a time limit coming.]

[ charles, ducking his head and laughing, obliges to walk fast enough that it's really more jogging than anything else, and luckily the way there isn't long — he leads them through some smaller streets until they find a small restaurant with just two tables outside and an olive tree in a planter next to the door. charles grins and tugs junpei in behind him, calling out, ]

Hi, Madam Gia! [ madam gia, an older woman well into her sixties, has kind eyes and steely gray hair, and she tuts when they come in. ]

I've told you to call me Gia, Charles, [ she says with a shake of her head as he bounds over to her to kiss her cheek in greeting. he then turns to junpei, darting to grab his hand to drag him over. ]

This is Madam Gia, the owner of the best restaurant in town. Madam Gia, this is Junpei. I promise to bring him round more often so you've got at least someone to feed. [ he smiles brightly, a little pointed, as if he's had multiple conversations with gia lamenting his inability to enjoy her cooking. but speaking of — ]

Oh, yeah! You won't believe it, but I think I could actually eat something, though dunno how long it'll last. You wouldn't have anything ready, would you?

[ gia, immediately taking the declaration with enthusiasm and determined to find them something quickly, waves them to take a seat as she heads to the kitchen. and charles, still holding on to junpei's hand, leads him through the restaurant and out to a small patio where there's only one table, surrounded by orange and lemon trees. ]

This is where Gia and her husband eat, [ he says as an explanation, ] But she's told me I can come here if I want. So I figured... well, nicer out here, innit?

[It's an absolutely quaint little hole in the wall place, and Junpei, frankly, is expecting a slightly cleaner than normal Pizza Hut, so— well, this tiny restaurant is the fanciest restaurant he's been in in ages. Not a crayon in sight...

He's content to hang back and look around while Charles says hello, managing to get out a polite "Oh, uh, hello" for Gia before the conversation gets away from him again and then they're out on this private patio, a thing his confused perception of restaurants perceives as the fanciest table in the whole place. There are trees out here, it's very fancy—]

What? Oh- Yeah, it's... pretty?

[Admittedly, he's a little overwhelmed by the whirlwind of nice old ladies and Charles' plucky enthusiasm about pasta, but it's a good kind of overwhelmed. And they are still holding hands, which is...

Well, he gives their hands a little swing before he lets go to shuffle over and take a seat.]

She seems really nice. And this whole place smells like the food is good.

[ charles, without much thinking about it, gives their joint hands a squeeze before they have to separate to actually, you know, sit down. absently, he runs his fingers along the tablecloth, feeling its texture, taking a few deep breaths. ]

Yeah, [ he agrees easily, sounding just a bit choked, because — well, he can smell things again, can't he? the smells of food coming from the kitchens, fresh basil and garlic and tomatoes and something that might be bacon, and he can smell the trees, too, and the wood the table and chairs are made of, and — damn, he didn't know he missed a simple thing like that this much. ]

Even if I can't eat anything, just to have been able to smell all this... [ he smiles, fully content, like anything on top of this is really just extra.

he pauses, then, and adds, a touch softer, ] ... Thanks. For suggesting this, and for earlier. [ it is easier, to talk of it now, somehow, removed from the park and his mild breakdown. so his expression turns admiring as he leans back in his chair, gaze fixed on junpei. ] Can't believe you actually punched my dad in the face. That's probably like, in the top three nicest things anyone's done for me.

[Oh, and that's - a sight to behold, somehow, the simplicity of Charles enjoying their surroundings. It sparks a warmth in his chest even as he looks away to take in the sounds of the kitchen and the trees and everything else himself. He leans his elbows on the table and nods, quiet; he can only imagine the depths of what Charles is feeling, but that doesn't make him less happy for him.

Then he holds up two fingers,] I hit him twice, [which is an important point, thanks, he wants that on the record. He shrugs, like, what else was he going to do? Just watch?]

Back then, I just thought... well, I was mostly thinking oh shit, do something. So uh, I'm glad we got out of there. [a beat.] And he deserved it.

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