expiationlogs | ( OPEN 💀 case of the glitching city )

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( OPEN 💀 case of the glitching city )

Who: charles rowland + you
Where: in vague places around aldrip
What: glitches for you, and you, and also you —
Warnings: mentions of death and dying, mr. rowland's a+ parenting (abuse, racism, homophobia)

STARTERS IN COMMENTS.

❯ OPEN — the ghost-to-human au nobody asked for
❯ OPEN — the wet kitten option, with a dash of hypothermia
❯ CLOSED TO EXISTING CR — what do you mean his horrible death wasn't the worst of it?

❯ want something else? feel free to wildcard it or hmu @ celen
❯ your soundtrack for this: ♫ ♫

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No, I know what you mean. [ his smile is understanding — because, really, he'd be the first one to say that both edwin and crystal are cooler than him, better than him... in every way. but the fact that junpei might think this of himself in comparison to his own friends? well, that he can't quite accept, even if he gets it. so it's a distracted response when he says, ]

Out of this timeline? Hm, right. Well, I'd say I hope I do, but — I wouldn't want my friends stuck here, so...

[ he wouldn't want junpei to worry about his friends here, either. and then he adds, almost like he can't really help it, ] Hey, you know you're cool, too, yeah? And more than that... that doesn't really matter, not to me. I'd pick you first. [ no matter what. because as much as he does like to hear about junpei and his life and the people important to him... what's more important is hammering it to his head that he matters. ]

[See, there he goes, immediately— And look, it's not like Junpei doesn't appreciate the sentiment, but his nebulous self-esteem isn't the point here. He waves a hand to this effect, kind of.]

No, that's— that's not what I meant. [He is incidental in this, but not in the self-esteem way! Not entirely. Details. It's wildly difficult to articulate without sounding less than charitable about Akane, so give him a second. First though, like it is basic fact but he's going to repeat it anyway,] You're great and this place would suck way more without you in it, 'cause you keep saying things like that.

[Sappy, sentimental... He means this, there is not a single trace of a bit to make it ambiguous, even if his delivery isn't as soft as the last time he made that same point. He finally sits up from his dignified flop and sighs.]

What I'm trying to say is... all coolness and whatever else aside, Akane is just... complicated. She's been trying to find the best timeline for most of her life, and this wouldn't be it. Not for her. Being stuck here would mess with her more than it does you or me.

[ raising his hands, palms out, as if to say hey, it's okay, take your time, charles just offers junpei a small smile as he waits for him to gather his thoughts. he ignores the returned sentiment, though, because somehow the fact it's bluntly delivered makes it mean more, and that's — well, that's not the point, right now.

when junpei finally sits up and finds the words, charles hums, waits for a moment and then simply walks up to where he is, sitting down next to him. ]

Hey, I get it. That's why I didn't push, yeah? You sounded... different. And you don't owe me any explanations. [ he tilts his head up slightly, as if there's something particularly exciting on the ceiling. ] It's not the same when you've got something to chase, is it? I mean... I'm fine, here, cause I know Edwin and Crystal are back home and safe. And I know I've said Edwin's the best person I know, and he is, but... he'd hate this. The way there's no logic, nothing makes sense. The way there's no routine, no cases, just — [ a pause, accompanied by a shrug, ] — and this'd remind him of Hell, too, so —

[ so. yeah, he sort of gets it. not in the same way, because what junpei seems to be saying is she'd hate it here and want to get out no matter what, whereas charles knows edwin would stay, just for him, even while hating everything... and maybe, maybe, if he feels a spark of anger that this akane person would consider any kind of a timeline more important than junpei, well — he slams a lid on that, right now. ]

[As soon as Charles sits down Junpei is struck by the urge to lean against his shoulder, to selfishly seek out that comforting contact that's been sort of following them all day, but he doesn't. Instead he leans his elbows on his knees and looks down at the half-wrapped gift sitting to his other side.

Frankly, he thinks, Edwin sounds more reasonable than Akane. At least he'd hate this place for normal reasons, and not—well, it's all Junpei can do to not blurt out some half-nonsense rambling about another history, where Akane all but gave up on the whole of it on a dime. She's brilliant and dedicated and she tossed the whole timeline aside as a series of hopeless mistakes with startling speed. A few times, if he thinks about it, even after she gave him such shit for...

Well, he doesn't want to speak badly of her. Wouldn't want to give Charles a bad impression (oops). So he's quiet for an extra beat, before he comes up with a lackluster attempt at levity:]

Maybe they could be super-intense problem-solvers together. [read: be neurotic together, but he's being nice,] You know, in case they're ever both here.

[He sighs and leans his chin in his hand, looking sideways and up at Charles. What was that about not pushing...]

You're allowed to ask me stuff. I mean, I ask you stuff all the time... It's fine.

[ there's maybe a palm's width of space between them, and for some reason it feels like more than that — like charles is no closer, sitting here, than he was just moments ago, on the other side of the room. still, he doesn't move, instead considers the words, and somehow, the fact junpei's equating akane to edwin says a lot more than anything else he's saying.

he huffs a laugh. ] Yeah, maybe. Edwin's not exactly a people-person, though. [ read: edwin is likely to dislike new people he meets on principle alone, does very badly with living people, and abhors working together with anyone who isn't charles.

junpei's next words give him pause, though, and he turns to look back at him, blinking in surprise for a second before it melts into an easy smile. ] Yeah, course. Thanks.

[ his smile, as ever, hides a myriad of other responses: that he remembers it when he'd tried to ask him about the shit that he'd been through, and been given the response of junpei likely needing to have drinks for that conversation; remembers all his little references, the not-quite-deaths, the supposed to from his talk about the experiment in nevada; can't help but have noticed how junpei rarely refers to people by name, even more rarely even talks about things he's done back home. and charles — well. the questions he has could probably fill an entire notebook, but he can't just ask them, can he? it's not his business, not unless junpei wants to tell him. and bloody hell but he'd hate himself if he pushed him to speak of something he doesn't really want to talk about. ]

[Junpei waits for a beat, and... okay, he's not going to ask anything, alright. He scoffs and shakes his head, amused despite himself at just how dedicated Charles seems to be to this... delicate, mannerly treatment? There's no tact when you're locked in a bunker and told you're going to die; what a change.

Having tact is fine, normal even! Who'd have thought! And yet Junpei almost wishes he wouldn't bother for, say, ten minutes—long enough to ask all the weird questions he's sure are there, because he recognizes what a bizarre picture of his own experiences he's already painted. And it would give him an excuse to vomit out all the things stuck in his throat if he had to, because Charles asked, it would turn the chasm of how to approach any of it into an obligation and that would be easier...

Well, it's not Charles' job to manage his bullshit. It's not a fair wish or even an earnest one; he can deal with his own crap like a grownup. He still shifts to nudge Charles with his elbow, like, oh? Nothing? And if he leaves his arm pressed against Charles' at this impractical angle, then so be it.]

I wouldn't worry about the people-person thing, [he says, not because his gaggle of maniacs is personable actually, as a group, but,] My friends tend to ignore that anyway.

[Some of them are real shitheels about it actually, but that's not the point. He should just start talking, he thinks, throw Charles a bone for those myriad questions, and then he thinks he should just start talking without all of the excuses. So, considering what he's learned about Edwin, the funniest option would be:]

Like, one of them—Carlos. Bet you could put Carlos and Edwin in a room together and take bets on who loses it first. You could be waiting in line to get eaten by sharks— not a real thing that happened— [jUST IN CASE,] and Carlos would still start asking about what your favorite hobbies are.

[ it's really not that he doesn't want to ask — it's that there's almost like something blocking the words, the kind of silence that's born of three decades of not talking about things like his own family, or edwin's family, or hell, so deeply ingrained in him that kicking the instinct is like fighting a goddamn war, actually.

but it's a war he needs to fight, even if it's not one where he can simply grab a cricket bat and hit the problem until it goes away... but he's going to do it. and if he makes this decision when he feels (well, as much as he's able to, anyway) junpei's elbow nudge into his side... well.

and then he takes a second to imagine that and promptly breaks into giggles. ]

Nah, mate, Edwin'd be phasing through the wall to get away from that in a minute. Or get pissed that he's not taking the shit seriously. [ really, he may have said edwin can summon fireballs, but his deadliest weapon are his words. no one in the history of ever has managed to be quite as scathing as edwin payne.

meanwhile, charles thinks he'd probably have a great time talking about hobbies. but, hm, maybe he can... ease into this whole asking-things part. ] So — he one of those with you in the volunteer thing, then? Carlos?

[The giggles make him grin, and he sits up straighter to lean back on his hands, giving Charles' shoulder a bump this time. Poor Edwin, having to hypothetically deal with the human golden retriever that is Carlos—]

That's not going to stop him, [he says, fondly exasperated. Carlos would see Edwin - and Charles, for that matter - for two minutes and then relentlessly turn up to be open and friendly and encouraging.]

Yeah, though, the volunteer thing. He's got this kid sister in the hospital, so he really needed the money. [That they were supposed to get, and he's not actually sure if they're still getting paid after the rest of the shit that happened, so— fingers crossed for Carlos.] He's a firefighter.

[These are just Carlos Facts, so let him think.]

He's a good guy. He's... I dunno. Not too many people have given as much of a damn about me. [Another shoulder bump, implied: Charles is on this list too, and,] You'd like him.

[ for someone who talks as much as charles does, it might be a surprise, to some, that he's a good listener — he makes a laugh at the part about edwin getting pissed off not being enough to deter carlos, then hums with sympathy when the kid sister is mentioned, and, finally, just watches junpei carefully when he finally adds in his own opinions.

at the second bump against his shoulder, charles just shifts in place slightly, until their shoulders are brushing as they sit; and then, with a quiet smile, ] I already do.

[ as if the facts that paint the picture of a genuinely good person wouldn't have been enough on their own, well, the fact he cares about junpei really cements the deal. with that same, soft tone, he asks, ] So, the volunteer thing... you kept saying that stuff was supposed to happen. Wanna tell me what actually did happen?

[ though he has to add, just in case, ] I mean, you don't have to. I'll take hearing more about your friends, too.

[If Carlos were here, Junpei thinks, he would have already befriended Charles without needing any testimonials to get him to the finish line. That's just the truth of his whole... presence, as a person. It's a warm thought, that he and Charles would get along, and Junpei lingers on it for a beat.

Then, alright, the big hog. He sighs, more resigned than dreading it, at least for the time being. What actually did happen...]

Well, I can't tell you much more about Carlos, anyway. We met there, at the thing—the test site. And after everything that happened, I woke up here, so...

[Carlos is a Saw Trap Exclusive, which is, hm. It is what it is. Junpei picks a spot across the room to frown at, while he thinks of how to get this stuff out.]

There were nine of us there, in the testing facility. We spent maybe a week doing the expected tasks, they gave us these chores to do, you know... It was an experiment. Then one morning we woke up in a different facility altogether, underground. Some dipshit in a costume comes along and says, hey, you need six special passwords to open the escape door that only opens once, and the passwords only unlock when someone dies.

[Sigh! Murder games.]

Then it gets timeline-weird, but that's what happens when you put a bunch of quantum weirdos in the same place anyway.

[ again, charles remains quiet, to let junpei figure out the words — figure out if he wants to answer at all, really, though when he starts it's with the tone of someone committed to the explanation. his expression tightens, the longer junpei speaks; it's not that he hadn't, you know, pieced together some kind of a picture from the tidbits of information he's collected over the past few months, but somehow, hearing it just laid out like this... well. ]

... Jesus.

[ somehow, he thinks that's almost worse than whatever the gnosia was: at least there, it was very clearly an outside influence, something you couldn't really even fight against. this, though? god. he doesn't even want to contemplate it, or how to go about somehow saving everyone.

he almost says sorry, but when has saying that ever made anything better? nothing he can say would erase what's already happened, or make it suck any less. instead, then, he just glances at junpei, reaches out with his hand to slide their palms together. they've already held hands plenty today, what's a little more, right? to offer quiet reassurance, that if nothing else, for whatever little it's worth, he's here for him. ]

Hell Asshole Two, was it? [ it's a rhetorical question — it could hardly have been number one, if junpei woke up here right after the whole thing went down. instead, charles tilts his head, looks at junpei with a mix of consideration and concern. ] You know, you've never really explained what that means, either. The timeline thing. What you can do.

[There isn't really anything to say about it, Junpei thinks, so he doesn't mind. He's grateful enough that Charles believes him in the first place about any of it being possible—he knows a year ago he probably wouldn't have bought any of it, before everything happened. It's more than enough just to take what he says and accept it without any skepticism.

And, oh, it's nice to hold his hand... for a number of reasons, several of which are immediately distracting. Helpful in a sideways kind of way, at least, since Junpei does relish the five seconds he isn't thinking only about the whole murder game thing—]

What? Oh—yeah. [How thoughtful of Charles to remember... Junpei clears his throat for no reason at all, giving Charles' hand a light squeeze.

Now then, he may have thought that his half-explained ranting about timelines explained everything, so uhhhh give him a second, ummm—]

I told you about how the other histories are all real, right? Like, they're there regardless of anything we're aware of doing right now. The way the timeline thing works, if there's... well, if there's mortal danger, we can force our consciousnesses out of one history and into another. Of course, that means the other history's version gets put into mortal danger instead...

[Quantum murder!]

For example... So, right at the start of the whole Asshole Two incident, he tells us he'll flip a coin, and if we guess it right- red or blue- we can go. Well, if Carlos guesses it right, anyway. Get it wrong, and we go through the whole murder trap.

[He holds up two fingers,] That gives us the guess right history and the guess wrong history, uh, simplified. From my perspective, Carlos guessed wrong... but since guess right is still a history that exists, we used that one to get out of there in the end.

[ as it happens, his half-explained ranting did explain some things, but left quite a few questions — questions that, charles is now rapidly realising, he might have been happier not having the answers to. instead of interrupting, though, what he lets junpei speak, though his grip on his hand gets progressively tighter and tighter, until his knuckles would, in normal circumstances, likely be entirely white. ]

Right, [ he says, fighting for some semblance of calm in his tone, because — maybe he's mistaken about this? maybe he misunderstood. and yet, it's with the same kind of sinking feeling as he had back in hell, realising the extent of it all, that he now thinks of this whole thing that junpei is, somehow, somehow, entirely calmly explaining away. ]

Right. So — let me back up a bit, yeah? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm chuffed you've got a way to get yourself out of trouble if you need it. But — tell me if I'm getting this right. If you switch into another history, that means that history's you switches to where you were? And you're then suddenly living in that history?

[ he takes a breath, eyes never leaving junpei. ] So doesn't that mean there's countless versions of you who've died, then, for every time you didn't? And that you now remember all the different shit on different timelines you've jumped through?

[ please tell him he's wrong on at least one of those things. ]

[Maybe he should have left it at half-explained ranting and not nudged Charles into asking about it; what's the point in talking about any of this, especially if it's going to upset people this much? Hmm. Quietly, softly, he says,] Hey, hey...

[And that's just noise, an aside because Charles is squeezing his hand hard enough to reveal everything he's thinking. Junpei wiggles his fingers in that grip, reaching across with his free hand to touch Charles' wrist; that is his hand being squeezed, first of all, but also hey, it's... fine.]

That's, uh... yeah, that's about it. I told you about that part, right, the resonating... thing? I don't know why it works, but that's what happens. Apparently we can even quantum-vibrate hard enough to shake off chemically-induced memory loss, go figure.

[This is absolutely not the question being asked. He clears his throat.]

Uh, so... you've pretty much got it.

Sorry, [ is his automatic first response to junpei's hand on his wrist, because he didn't hurt him, did he? shit. he loosens his hold immediately, but doesn't let go — doesn't think he could if he tried, really.

he takes a few moments to absorb the information, closing his eyes as if not looking at anything might help; what does help, though, is junpei's hand in his, physically preventing him from standing up and smashing his fist against the wall like he feels like doing.

finally, after a silence that's probably only some long seconds but feels far longer, he opens his eyes and fixes junpei with a serious look. ]

Yeah, kinda figured. Sorry, but that's one shitty power.

[ he frowns as soon as the words leave his mouth, gives their joined hands a squeeze. ] I don't mean it like... like I'm judging you. I meant when I said I'm real glad you have a way to stay alive. Hell, I probably would've done the same. But...

[ here is where his voice gets choked; here is where he feels his vision blurring just a bit, and promptly prays he doesn't just burst into tears because, ] I fucking hate that that's something you have to decide, whether to die or let another you die. That's — that's fucked up, and no one should have to make that kind of a choice. Least of all you. And I'm — shit, I'm so sorry it's something you've had to live with and not even be able to forget any of it.

[Distance, Junpei thinks, is the key item here. The first time he'd been kidnapped and trapped with a bunch of strangers, the adrenaline rush of making it out alive had been practically a high, and it crashed just as suddenly after only a few days. The events in the bunker hadn't ended with as much sense of accomplishment, not really, even if they were alive— but here and now he can look at Charles so upset about it and remember with perfect clarity the utter lack of care with which they threw themselves back and forth across the histories, and it concerns him to think that maybe he should feel... more? Nothing they did down there was normal, and so much of it sits rotten and heavy in his stomach, and yet it's Charles who looks like he's about to cry.

Junpei thinks, well, maybe a few months is still too little distance, or maybe something inside of him is still broken, a mess he can only look at and sit in the middle of and not pick up properly, like he should. Either way.]

I know it sucks, [he says, and sighs. He stops himself from saying it sucks even more for Akane, burdened with the future as well as the expanse of the present; another one of those things that might not go over well. Charles being this upset is already pretty bad...]

Mostly I just try not to think about it, [although the pure exhaustion that comes through with that sentiment shwos how well that works. He shifts to lie back and stare up at the ceiling, dragging their joined hands to his chest and covering them with his other one again; no one is going anywhere, thanks.]

Still, it's... I mean, if I forget everything that happened, what's left? The "game" might have been fucked up and awful, but Carlos and Akane and the rest—I don't want to forget about them.

[Just like this place, and the gnosia; horrible, terrible week, but would he wipe those memories if it meant forgetting what Charles did for him? No, he couldn't.]

[ charles almost, almost answers back with and how's that going for you, but then — well, considering avoidance is his primary tactic with all of his own shit, especially the stuff with his dad, saying anything would make him a right hypocrite.

instead, he shifts his position, too, pulling his legs up and turning so he's sitting angled towards junpei. and then he sighs. ]

Yeah, I get it. I wouldn't forget any of the shitty stuff in my life, either.

[ because, really, not so much bad that there's not some good, too — and often that good is enough, more than enough, to pull through all the rest. and in many ways, it's the shitty stuff that makes you; what'd be left, without those memories? he doesn't have to like it to get it, really.

gently, he threads his fingers through junpei's, gives them another squeeze. ]

Thanks. You know, for telling me. I know it's... [ trailing off, he shrugs, tilting his head down as he frowns at the bedding. ] I don't like thinking about stuff, either. [ "stuff", of course, standing in for "everything to do with his home situation". ] Or talking about any of it. And I didn't mean to force you to remember all that, but — I'm glad I know.

[It's going slightly better than it was during the past year, actually, but hey, there's another bit of stuff to put on the pile that shalt not be talked about. Not talking about not talking about it; they're doing a fantastic job, the both of them.

Or: it's really and truly awful that they understand each other in this instance, but part of Junpei remains glad that they've at least managed to find each other. The hand in his feels like a ballast of sorts, freely offered, and somehow Charles is even glad to know.

Thinking about it like that, Junpei says,] Well, you gave some of your stuff to me.

[A beat, and he shuts his eyes like, hang on,] Not like— I'm not complaining. I mean you don't have to... carry it all, you know? I've got some of it now and I'll carry it for you. And you've got some of my stuff, so...

[Well, he's not just going to say haha no take backsies, carry it! It's the mutual exchange of stuff, or whatever, listen—he's not rehearsed this or anything. He opens only one eye, to see how well this is going. Ahem.]

Alright?

[ it's a shitty thing to have in common, for sure — and yet maybe the saying's really true, that shared pain is pain halved, or however it goes; or maybe it's simply the fact that neither of them is alone, anymore. maybe that's what really, truly counts the most, above everything else.

and while normally, charles is more than happy to shoulder everything given to him, not just his own pain but that of others', too, without even considering giving anything away — this feels... different. like maybe he can really believe it, that speaking of his death, that having everything with his dad just sort of dumped on junpei without ever meaning for it to happen... that it's okay. that it's not a burden, or that if it is, it's one that's freely carried, just like he knowingly asked to carry a part of junpei's past with him.

he's not entirely sure what his expression is doing — he only knows it must show just how fucking floored he feels, and finally, a few of the tears he's sort of barely been blinking back the entire time roll down, leaving wet tracks on his cheeks as he sniffles a bit, though the corners of his mouth are tilted up into a barely-there smile as he looks at junpei. ]

... Yeah. Alright.

[There's always the chance Charles will decide, actually, quantum murder bunker game nonsense is too much; that there is a limit to how much of Junpei's stuff he's willing to carry, and Junpei passed it a handful of gruesome other-history deaths ago. Or at least that's what Junpei is afraid of, giving him a one-eyed look from down on the mattress, waiting— most people probably have a limit, right? And he isn't demanding Charles carry anything of his, so it's all he can do to wait, heart pounding and still making this ridiculous face.

But of course, Charles isn't like most people. Junpei's nervous heart turns completely over, relieved in one moment and cracking in the next, because oh no he's crying oh no—]

Hey, come on, [he says, soft; he reaches up and... well, wiggles his fingers a little, since he's lying down here and Charles is tall, he can't reach. The struggle he must endure, pushing himself up onto his elbow and twisting a little so he can swipe at least one tear track away with his thumb. Forgive him, it's a little indelicate.]

It's okay, yeah? You— we're okay.

[ indelicate or not, charles instinctively turns his head a little towards the touch (and damn if it isn't a lot, to bask in the warmth of junpei's care for him at the same time as most of his mind is screaming at him in emotional exhaustion), even while sniffling again in the hopes that it might stave off any further tears. he manages a shaky nod, first, then a more solid one; forming actual words takes him a few beats longer, just in case just opening his mouth might make him break down worse.

when he's relatively sure that won't happen, he says, ]

I know. [ and then, with a slight, hiccuping laugh, ] Sorry, just — been a long day, yeah?

[ and though he doesn't say it, the softness in his tone and in the way he looks at junpei speaks for itself, that none of it is meant as an admonishment, or a shifting of blame — a long day, sure, but he wouldn't change any of it, not really. it may not have been his decision, everything with his dad, but he's so, so grateful that it was junpei there with him; and then it very much so had been his decision, to spend his human moments with him, just as it had been his decision to ask questions about his past — and though the conversation may have brought them to this point, it was all worth it. ]

[It's almost funny; Junpei has had plenty of long days before that ended much more terribly than this one, sitting in the dark in the emptiness of his shitty apartment, forcing himself to rally for the next day only to avoid more of the same. Hell, even the bunker was one long day iterated over and over again, and somehow this is the first long day in ages that feels like it's not ending on more of the same.

Maybe it's bittersweet-funny? Chuckle-adjacent? He'll workshop it. What's important is not ending a long day feeling like the next one is going to be even longer, and that's thanks to Charles being there— to listen, to understand, to give a damn. It's been a long and weird and exhausting day, and somehow, he feels better for it.]

Yeah. But hey, tomorrow's, uh, brand new or something, right? [This is why he needs the inspirational phrase-a-day desk calendar,] You know what I mean.

[A beat. They've probably earned a break from dealing with their respective pasts today, all things considered, so,]

You want to just... zone out for a while? I could zone out—with company.

I know, [ he repeats, because he does know — it's words he's said every time a case has ended up somewhat botched, something he had always wanted to believe in when he'd been alive and never quite had, not until he was dead and had figured out that one bad day was usually followed by a better one.

here, he believes it, too, and most of that is thanks to junpei being here. ]

Sounds brills. [ both the zoning out part, because yeah, he kind of really does feel like not thinking about anything for a while, possibly a long while; and the with company part, because the idea of letting go of junpei's hand and leaving is suddenly almost enough to cause him physical pain. so if this is giving him an excuse to not do that... yeah.

and then, with a light squeeze to his hand, ]

... Thanks. [ for earlier? yeah, that too. but also for this, letting him stay, not kicking him out just yet. because really, charles doesn't think he could handle being alone right now. ]

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( OPEN 💀 case of the glitching city )

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