expiationlogs | ( OPEN 💀 case of the glitching city )

[ 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.

Right, you did. [ he concedes the point easily, not sounding any less admiring, because there's just something about having seen junpei, who is usually so laid-back and nonchalant and almost deliberately downplaying things or making light of them, so full of protective anger on his behalf of all things... in hindsight, charles thinks that he wasn't really able to appreciate the sight properly then, but would, if pressed, describe it as pretty damn attractive —

which is a thought he doesn't have the wherewithal to unpack right now, so under the rug it goes!

as soon as the rug is back in place, charles sighs, soft smile still on his lips, and nods. ] Not many would have done something, though. So... thanks. Really. [ a beat. ] Glad we got out of there, too. And trust me, I know. I'm the last person to go and try to defend him.

[ for a moment, his own anger seeps into his voice, as he thinks of every single horrible thing his dad had done over the years, thinks of the scars that still mar his back even in death — but he tamps it down, then, because his dad doesn't deserve even that much. he'll give him nothing, because he deserves nothing; certainly not to ruin his mood right now.

so it's a good thing madam gia interrupts them, then, carrying with her two plates of penne all' arrabiata, placing them in front of them with an enjoy your food, boys! and then, leaning to whisper in charles' ear, he's really cute, her tone both teasing and approving and charles —

for the first time in thirty-five years, charles feels a flush cover his face, cheeks and ears entirely red. madam gia laughs as she leaves them again, and charles tries to open his mouth to contradict her assumption (because, god, she's assuming things) and then just closes it again when no words come out (because he'd have to say them loud enough that junpei would hear them, and perhaps most importantly, because the phrase to contradict is "he's cute" and charles couldn't disagree with that even if he tried). ]

[He frowns, just briefly - much as he'd like to say that anyone would have done the same, he knows as well as Charles does that, no, they wouldn't have. Charles is completely right to assume people wouldn't do anything about what happened to him, clearly didn't back when he was still alive, and Junpei wishes he didn't know that to be entirely expected of people, in general.

But he clears his throat and shrugs off that thought, because he did something, didn't he, he helped get Charles out of there, and now they're—having pasta. An improvement. He perks up when Madam Gia arrives, hastily giving a thanks-for-the-food, which does look really good. Maybe he was hungrier than he thought, now that the bulk of his earlier rage has worn off...

And so it's with a mouthful of penne already that Junpei raises an eyebrow at whatever this exchange is between Charles and Madam Gia is. He watches the old woman go before turning back to Charles, idly thinking that he definitely likes her, if she can make Charles light up like a stoplight that easily. Thank god for the pasta or he'd be laughing--]

I don't know what that was, but it looks like textbook grandma behavior. Red looks good on you, by the way.

[Ha ha. Good for him, though, to have bonded with a nice old lady, given... well, given. Now Junpei can afford a chuckle, leaning his chin in his hand. He wiggles his fork, lacking the skill to actually spin it in a cool way, but the intention is there.]

She's going to be disappointed if you don't clean your plate. Come on.

It — [ he starts, and then the words "red looks good on you" hit him in the face with the accuracy and strength of a ballistic missile, and though they're entirely teasing they still make charles blush even harder, until he thinks his face is probably indistinguishable from the colour of his polo shirt.

he just clears his throat and focuses on the change in topic, then, faintly grateful for that and forgetting entirely about his reservations about actually eating something for the first time in decades (what if he can't? what if it doesn't compare to his expectations? what if something terrible happens?) — he simply picks up his fork, spears some penne with it, and puts it all in his mouth.

and god, he thinks he might start crying, right then and there. instead, though, he lets out a sound that's indecent at best, and after thoroughly chewing and swallowing, says, ]

Jesus fuck.

[ sorry don't mind him as he just takes another mouthful of pasta... has he accidentally passed on to his afterlife? because this might just be it, good food and company at the same time. ]

[Junpei has to look down at his own plate to control himself from laughing aloud again, and to not... stare, so openly and overtly at Charles' flushed face. It really does look good on him, and it really would be - awkward, to sit here and stare at him, even so. He'll just have to remember it for whenever this change reverts itself, just casually commit to memory how Charles is very cute when he blushes, yeah.

The pasta is good. Junpei focuses on the pasta, and this time he nearly chokes when Charles starts making noises.]

I-If— [ahem. wheeze. stop, it's too much--] If you and the pasta need a minute alone...

[This too is endearing, but whew, thank god they're in the private patio and not in front of other people, wowza.]

[ as charles is still chewing and won't talk around his mouthful of this divine thing known as pasta, his immediate response is flipping junpei off with a deadpan stare.

once he's managed to swallow it all, he says, a mix of defensive, embarrassed and amused, ] Well, you try and not eat anything for thirty-five years and see how you like it.

[ he takes a moment to eat some more, mindful of the time that has already passed — he doesn't know if he has seconds, minutes or hours left, so best not waste this. in-between the mouthfuls, he says, softer now, ] Bloody hell, but it's really good. I owe you for this. [ on his own, he might not have even thought of it, and would never have had this experience — and the fact that junpei actually remembered it... yeah. it means a lot. ]

[That makes Junpei laugh, holding up both hands like alright, alright. It was deserved and flipping him off is actually even more endearing than not, sorry!

It is good pasta, regardless, and he is eating it, if not as enthusiastically or with as much speed as Charles is. He's evenly split between eating pasta and watching Charles eat pasta, you know, in a normal way.]

What? No, don't worry about it. This is for you.

[And he can check it off on his special list, which he has already done mentally.]

[ that makes him duck his head, suddenly feeling a bit abashed for no discernible reason — maybe it's just that he's not used to people, you know, indulging him in the things he wants to do. so he just offers junpei a smile that's a far cry from his usual, self-confident grin, landing squarely into something more quiet, grateful.

idly scraping the last remnants of his plateful (so sue him, he had a time limit, he wouldn't normally eat this fast!), he says, ] You're really something, you know that, yeah?

[ he can't quite articulate the tangle of emotions somewhere in the vicinity of his chest, can't look at them all clearly for fear that they might just burn him with how much they are, how deeply he feels them — but, he supposes, saying something is better than saying nothing. because he can't quite bear the thought that junpei doesn't know how much all this means to him; this, everything that happened with his dad, all of it. ]

[Ah, and Junpei is ready to... not argue, but maybe to insist if he has to; this is absolutely just for Charles, he doesn't owe anything, it's nothing like a transaction - and then Charles doesn't push the idea of owing him at all, which kind of pulls the rug out from under him a bit. For a moment he's about to be the one insisting otherwise - he's just some guy, the sheer depth of gratitude behind those words is undeserved-

But then he'd be a hypocrite, probably, or something like that. However he can be a hypocrite for doing the thing Charles didn't do, whatever. He looks down at his plate and pushes some pasta around, feeling almost... shy? Which is ridiculous, because it's Charles—]

Uh, thanks. Anytime. I mean— actually, anytime. Anything you need.

[From punching to pasta, he'll figure it out.]

[ anytime. such a simple word, but the sincerity in it is what feels so staggering, and charles knows his cheeks are burning, again, can feel the flush spreading from his cheeks to his ears and down to his neck. and it's silly, he thinks as he ducks his head in the faint hopes of hiding it, because it's nothing that should make him blush — it's not madam gia's insinuations from earlier, and he's not drunk a thing, unlike junpei during their night of celebrating his birthday. and yet, he can hear the way his heart thunders in his ears —

and then, too, hear it when it starts to grow fainter, and fainter. ]

Shit, [ he says, head snapping up, because if he only has a few seconds left — he reaches over the table for junpei's hand, takes it in his, tells himself to commit it to memory, the real feeling of their palms, pressed together, fingers entwined. he doesn't have time to throw himself out of his seat and hug him, much as he'd like to, so this'll do. he moves his thumb over junpei'd wrist, to his pulse point, just feeling his heart beat now that he still can, for however many seconds it takes for him to turn back to his full ghost form. he knows it's abrupt, and tries to smile in apology. ]

Sorry, just... want to remember, yeah? If there's one thing, just one thing — [ he trails off, then, because he doesn't really know what he's trying to say, here. and so he says nothing more, waiting for his ability to feel fully fade away. ]

What—? [Not the answer he's expecting, which makes his stomach lurch unpleasantly in the moment before he realizes he's wrong, and a second before he realizes what's going on and his heart sinks for an entirely different reason. It was always going to be a time-limited thing, of course it was, but he kind of hoped for Charles' sake that it would be longer than a meal.

He puts his fork down, abandoning the pasta for a minute to clap his other hand over their joined ones and squeeze.]

Hey, it's okay. I— I've got you.

[He's not sure what else to say, not even approaching what it means that any part of him could qualify for the just-one-thing Charles wants to remember. And yet he has only himself to offer, holding tight to Charles' hand and trying not to think about the warmth of him fading.

At least the pasta was good? No, that would be stupid to say—]

I mean, I just said anything, so... yeah.

[ slowly, as charles' state of being settles back into what he knows the best, corporeal only because he wishes it to be so, thoughts crash into each other in his head — this is unfair, countered by but at least you got to experience being alive again, how's that unfair, with a dash of yeah but maybe it'd have been better to not know it at all —

though above all of them, louder than the rest, there's just one thing. ]

I know, [ he says, because he does know. ] And I didn't even say thanks. [ though that's mostly because saying thank you seems... too little, somehow, like it's not enough at all. so instead, charles tries to hold onto the words that are escaping him the more he tries to look for them. ]

Look. As a ghost, you don't really — I mean, we meet a lot of people, but they all, well, move on. So you don't meet people who stay. And for the longest time it was just me and Edwin, and now we've got Crystal, but — I just, I'm not really used to... [ what, making friends? having someone genuinely care about him, to the point of saying anything and bloody well meaning it, too? probably both.

he takes a breath he no longer needs and keeps going. ] Anyway, what I mean to say is, well, this whole being kidnapped here to a place that can mess with us however it wants, well, that kind of sucks. Except... except I can't really say I'm all that mad about it, not really.

[ with a soft smile and a squeeze to junpei's hand, he says, ] I mean, got to meet you, didn't I?

[There's so much earnestness in what Charles is saying that Junpei can't help flushing pink, ducking his head briefly in sheepish appreciation. He understands the sentiment completely— after all, all the people he's closest to these days are people he met in actual, literal murder games. Even after the myriad shitty incidents of a few weeks ago, and the shitty incident of today...

Well, he gets it.]

Come on... [Come on!! He's got nothing more after that, just wow, he can't keep up with all this, but in a good way, somehow.]

Yeah— I get it. I mean, it's not always terrible around here, but... it'd be worse without you around.

[ seeing junpei embarrassed by it all makes charles grin, idly thinking that, yeah, red suits him pretty well too —

except then he apparently feels the need to return the sentiment, and here's the thing: charles has no issues speaking what he feels, expressing his care and admiration and gratefulness in words... but when others do that to him? he doesn't really know how to take it, feels the need to deflect it somehow, so he doesn't crumble under the feeling.

which is partly why he leans his chin into his free hand, feels his grin widen into something more pointed. ]

Hmm, so you're saying I make things better?

[ there's a lilt to his words, a spark to his eyes. and if he's using flirting as a means to deflect from the way his heart is flipping in his chest, well! no one needs to know that. ]

[Oh, Charles can't look at him like that, he's going to vaporize on the spot at this rate. He— picks his fork back up to eat some more pasta, suddenly, because he's desperately craving pasta and not because Charles giving him that look makes his stomach lurch. (So he's putting more pasta in it, details, he's never claimed to make great decisions.)

So now he's taking advantage of the time to chew... ahem...]

Well, uh... basically, yeah.

[Yeah! Would he be eating this pasta in this fancy restaurant without Charles? No! But more than that, it's true, he really is saying that; having any kind of steady companionship makes it better instantly, another thing Junpei's learned from his previous kidnapping stints, and Charles is... more than that. In some way.

Some nebulous way. Junpei shrugs.]

You think I'm just going to forget what you did for me when I was going nuts? Nope. And that was just the one time.

[ too bad, because charles can and will look at him like that — even though his slightly sheepish response takes the edge off of his grin, softens it a touch, into something altogether different; the kind of look that says he could sit there and smile at junpei like this for hours without tiring of it, the kind that says i didn't expect you to agree but you make everything better, too.

with a slight shrug, ] No way I wasn't gonna help you. It's not like it was a hardship. [ well, the looking after him part, in any case — the uselessness had been a whole different thing. ]

'Sides, you've helped me plenty, too, yeah? Just look at today. I really should...

[ he trails off, the way one might when realising something. ] Oh, shit, I never gave you your actual birthday present, did I?

[Somewhere, Madam Gia is catching a glimpse of this with a knowing eye... which makes one out of three of them.

Junpei gives Charles a look, eyebrow raised; they've already gone through the entirety of the Gnosia incident and he's already expressed what an undeserving little shit he definitely was, so he's not going to rehash it again. Honestly they don't need to rehash anything, much as Junpei enjoys his fun lists; going back and forth listing the ways they've helped each other out is nice, but he doesn't need the citations. He already knows!

But oh, what's this birthday present with the steel chair, huh—]

You really got me something?

[ it is nice at least someone has any idea of what is actually going on...

raising his eyebrows, charles assumes an affronted look, as if just the fact he needs to ask is wounding him gravely. ] Told you I would. What, you didn't really think I'd just get you drinks and call it a day?

[ unbelievable. he lets go, then, pushing his chair back as he stands. ] Wait a tick, yeah? I'll be right back.

[ with a winning smile, he turns to head back inside, calling out for madam gia that the food was delicious — some muffled words of argument follow, as charles tries to pay for the pasta and madam gia insists it's all on the house... and then he steps into the mirror, hanging on the restaurant wall. he's gone maybe two whole minutes before he steps out of it again with a rectangular package wrapped in silly wrapping paper and, well, it's sort of a haphazard job, anyway. ]

Here. [ he hands junpei the present with a grin that's doing its very best to hide his mild anxiety over whether he's actually got him something he'll like. ]

[Okay, well, first point,] Drinks aren't not a gift...

[Drinks were fine! They had a nice time! He was only hungover due to his own hubris, so actually, calling it a day would have been more than enough. But okay, okay; he holds up his hands in defeat, yes, he'll wait, he still has some pasta to pick at anyway...

And okay, the argument with Madam Gia makes him smile a bit, giving the nearest fruit tree a look, like, can you believe this guy? Then it's two minutes to finish his meal at last before Charles comes back.

With—puppy wrapping paper, and Junpei's first thought of course does not stop for processing at all and comes right out:] Damn, it's even wrapped.

[He really went all out!! Junpei turns in his chair to take the box onto his lap and pick at a corner; sure, the wrapping job isn't pristine, but he doesn't want to just destroy it in a second. He'll find a good spot to peel back, only actually unwrapping the package about halfway before he can peek inside. It's...]

You remembered my sneaker collection...?

[Of course he did, of course Charles would do something crazy like listen to him when he talks, ugh— Junpei makes a face, trying to keep his smile down to a reasonable level and not, like, embarrassingly giddy, like he feels about these shoes. It's almost working.]

They're, uh, they're really cool. Thanks.

It's barely wrapped, [ he mutters, because he knows most people would call it a botched job, but it's not his fault a neat wrap job has never been his strong suit! then, as he bounces on his feet while waiting for junpei to open the gift, there's a line of tension in his shoulders; an eerily similar way to when charles had first shown junpei his drawings, as if he's bracing himself, holds himself very still when junpei speaks of charles remembering his sneaker collection, like this fact might be a bad thing, somehow — but just as before, the sight of his friend, smiling, is enough for the tension to bleed out entirely and bring a small smile to his lips, too. ]

... Course I did. [ he's pretty sure he could rattle off a number of random facts about him, now, down to his exact opinions about specific music genres, or movies, or the smoothie flavours from earlier in the day.

a little sheepishly, charles scratches behind his ear, glancing down. ] They, um, should be your size, but the guy said you can exchange them if they don't fit. I know you're usually supposed to try shoes on beforehand and all but... anyway. Now you don't have to worry about clogs, yeah?

[Junpei wiggles one whole shoe out of the box to hold it up and look at it properly, still touched; and it's a nice sneaker, even better! He'll have to ask later where the cool sneaker store is in this bizarre town, but for now: he likes the gift. And he scoffs, raising an eyebrow at Charles' overly long explanation... buddy...]

Yeah, I've been to a shoe store before. [He's heard of returns, please, anyway,] But thanks again, for saving me from clogs. I was getting worried.

[Well, the thanks is genuine at the very least; he wiggles the shoe back into its box with the other one and sort of... drapes the torn part of the wrapping paper over it again. There. Of course he's taking as much silly dog wrapping paper home as possible.]

Really though, they're great. I'll try 'em on as soon as I get back to the inn.

[ shh don't look at him and his tendency to ramble when he's nervous!

though fortunately it seems that the thanks remove the last of the lingering anxiety and charles just beams at junpei, then, bright and happy. ]

Pretty chuffed you like them, [ he says, his wide smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners. ] Wasn't sure if...

[ trailing off, he just gives a small shrug and promptly changes the subject. ] Right, we done here, yeah? I'll walk you back. [ does he pause, for even a second, to think that going out to eat together and then walking the other back to their place is classic date behaviour? absolutely not. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

he's going Through It

mclosing it in real time

he's being so normal about everything

especially about pasta

no that he's straight up not normal about

i'm trying to pretend he's not like that about pasta

"normal" has left the chat, actually

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject