expiationlogs | dead to the power of two

[Points for worst thing ever, Junpei thinks, almost as soon as Charles' smile gets like that. He just keeps washing this same plate, waiting for Charles to work out what he wants to do; they promised, and he knows that has to be a big part of Charles fumbling through his half-started excuse there, so—he can wait. Charles has always waited for him.

And oh, if this were not one of those terrible things, Charles giving Junpei's own line back to him would be kind of funny. He scoffs and sticks one hand under the faucet to rinse off the soap, then reaches over to cup Charles' cheek... wetly. Wetly is fine.]

Yeah, probably, [he says, because it's true, and shrugs, because that doesn't matter to him as much as his promise to Charles.] Not really worried about it.

[He's been upset before and he can be again, if needs must—! He pulls his hand away and holds out the plate.]

We've got silverware and utensils left, so... think about it? You've got a whole couple minutes.

[ the line — yes, the line is entirely deliberate, of course, because he remembers it all too well from the last time they had one of these conversations. and he says it not as an excuse, or even a deterrent; it hadn't stopped him from wanting to know everything junpei had been through, had it? and he doesn't believe for one moment it's going to be enough to stop junpei, either.

instead, it's an explanation and a pre-emptive apology all at once, because it will upset him, he knows that much, because as much as he's always tried to downplay his home life, as much as his customary response to anything he's ever said about it has been it's fine —

well. he isn't an idiot. he does know it's not, in fact, at all fine. and he tilts his head into the touch and says, ] I know. [ of course junpei isn't worried about it; it's him who's worried, here, but he's just going to have to endure that, he thinks.

he takes the plate, then, but shakes his head to that think about it; he's already thought about it. ] We promised, yeah? I meant it, then. I still mean it. If you want to know...

[ he dries the plate and sets it aside with a shrug. ] It'll be easier if I just show you. [ after silverware and utensils, that is. ]

[Charles can have the bonus minutes to think, anyway, since they're just finishing up with the dishes first. Junpei hums; of course he wants to know, there isn't a single thing avout Charles' life that he would refuse to hear, good or bad. The minutes are for Charles to get into the right mindset, then, he supposes.

The rest of the dishes proceed in silence, very intentional, until Junpei is drying his hands and says,]

Where do you want to do this? Your call.

[Well, ideally not here at the sink, but that's obvious.]

[ it does help, the minutes that pass in comfortable silence — for him to beat down the instinct to not talk about any of it, the deeply ingrained feeling that all it's going to do is show just how inadequate he is in every way —

but he promised. he promised, and he wants to trust that even if he's inadequate and flawed and just not enough, at least he'll be enough for junpei just like this. ]

Right, [ he says and runs a hand through his hair. ]

Right, let's... come on.

[ instead of answering, he takes junpei's hand and tugs him along into the bedroom, pulls him down to sit next to him on the bed, still holding his hand in his. ]

This isn't really how I thought we'd be doing this, [ he says with a half-smile, meaning taking his shirt off, that is — not that him having his undershirt on has stopped them from sleeping together, really, but it's the principle of the thing. ]

Wanna help? [ not for sexy reasons, but mostly so that he doesn't feel so — like this is a necessary evil to get through. ]

[Junpei lets Charles lead them to the bed and sits, ready to wait as long as he needs. Not that it seems to be very long at all, and he turns to face Charles completely with a little chuckle— definitely not for sexy reasons, he gets that, but he's not going to act like this is something either of them have to be nervous about.

They promised, so whatever it is, Junpei isn't going to turn away. If adding even a little levity to this kind of thing is possible, he's all for it.]

Yeah, for sure.

[After he leans in to press a kiss to Charles' cheek first, warm and fond and here, importantly. Then he sits back and gestures; Charles has all those layers, so just let him know where to start.]

[ as junpei pulls back from kissing his cheek, charles smiles at him with all the love in the world — once again, this is an excellent time to simply look at him for a moment and wonder just how he managed to get this lucky... but, right. the shirt. ]

Thanks, love.

[ what's also lucky is the fact that he's taken to wearing simply his polo shirt and the tank top under it when they are home — and so, instead of his maximum of four layers, there are only two, now. he takes junpei's hands in his and gently places them at the hem of his shirt; it's easy enough to push both shirts off at once, really, but he's leaving that choice up to junpei.

in any case, whether they do it one shirt at a time or no, there is nothing immediately obvious for why exactly he has so adamantly kept at least his undershirt on at all times... at least like this, with them facing each other. ]

[Two layers is still a brief internal debate: do this like pulling a band-aid off, or slow and steady? Charles' instinctual reluctance to be doing this at all makes both of them viable options for literally opposite reasons, but ultimately Junpei opts to push them both off at once, band-aid style. Now that they're here, jumping right in has more pros and cons.

Typical of him, he tosses them both on the floor, his other hand lingering on Charles' now bare chest. He doesn't resist giving Charles a brief look, eyebrow raised— he's just as pretty with his shirt off as with it (and all the other layers) on, that's all, it's implied— but now...

Well, he doesn't know what happens next. He's done his shirt-helping job.]

Soooo...

[ there's the briefest moment where he tenses up as junpei pushes the shirts off and throws them haphazardly somewhere on the floor — but the hand on his chest is like an anchor, and he covers junpei's hand with his own and smiles at him softly.

but that smile doesn't stay for long; instead, it first dims in his eyes, then his mouth draws into a line as his brows furrow.

and then he just sighs. ]

Right, [ he says, and it even sounds like he's stalling. ] It's not that big of a deal, honestly. I mean, it's fine, I just haven't really —

[ shown them to anyone before; but eventually, he stops with the caveats, gently pulls junpei's hand away with his own so he can turn around. and now it's obvious: there are lines of scars on his back, some longer, some shorter, some very clearly years old even by the time when be died. ]

Charles, [Junpei says, not quite warning, but with the verbal equivalent of a nudge that he's doing that thing they talked about again. Their mutual "it's not a big deal" problem.

Then Charles turns, and it takes Junpei a moment to actually comprehend what it is he's seeing— the scars themselves and then, worse, what they mean. And first he's angry, so angry, he wants the city to freak out and summon up the data ghost of Charles' father again so he can punch him in the face a few more times—

But that goes out of him just as quickly, replaced by the well of sympathy for Charles and what he's been through, what he's done just to get here, sitting on the bed like this. Junpei says,] Hey, incoming.

[Just fair warning while Charles isn't looking at him, before he slides his arms around Charles' waist and tugs him back closer, angling himself to put his chin on Charles' shoulder. Hey.]

I really hate that guy. Do you want to talk about it?

Sorry, [ he says quietly before turning round — he can hear that not-quite-warning, the implied stop doing that, and, hm, yeah. yeah, he should just... get it over with.

and so he turns, and says nothing — and for a moment as junpei doesn't, either, he simply stares at the bed without really seeing anything. remember, beta, says his mother's voice in his head, and he feels like he is betraying her by showing junpei this; and more than that, there is the ever-present shame of knowing he was never good enough, no matter what he did, in all the years he was actually alive —

the warning is the only thing that keeps him from outright flinching as junpei wraps his arms around him, sets his chin on his shoulder; but he is tense, as if braced for — he doesn't even know what, really; judgment, perhaps, even though intellectually he knows junpei would never, ever do that.

the question makes him huff out something that isn't quite a laugh, sharp and desperate at once. ] No, [ he says, truthfully, ] But I should, shouldn't I?

[ but how, is the question — and where would he even start? eventually, though, he manages, with a quiet, monotone voice that's entirely at odds with his usual demeanour, ] Most of the time, it wasn't bad enough to put me in hospital, you know? But one time, after I tried helping Mum in the kitchen and broke a glass, he shoved me down the stairs. I broke my arm and my leg and had a concussion, and I don't remember it all too well, but Mum took me to the hospital. And I thought, maybe this'd be enough. Maybe we could just... leave. But she didn't even look at me, just said, remember, beta, you slipped and that was it.

[ a pause, there, for him to breathe. ] Nothing I ever did was good enough for him. But nothing he did was ever enough for Mum to say anything, either.

[Ah, and Junpei remembers all those months ago, when the images of Charles' parents had appeared— the way his mother had stood back, hadn't interfered, hadn't done a thing besides give her silent agreement to whatever garbage Charles' father had spewed. Logically he knows a person in her situation has... limited options, will make choices to avoid making things worse, but—

Remember, beta, you slipped. Charles' father is a monster, this Junpei has known for ages with a dull certainty, but this new revelation about his mother...

It's difficult to reconcile the woman in Charles' other anecdotes, who would cook with him and put any good into his life at all, with beta, you slipped. Junpei sighs and squeezes around Charles' waist, scooting in even closer.]

Not to, you know, speak ill or anything, [he frowns, like maybe he shouldn't go on, but it's worth hearing from someone else,] but she let you down pretty hard. I mean, she's your mom...

Sorry. Just... she should've- [beaten her husband with a hammer,] -done something.

[ the arms around him are the only thing steadying him, right now — he leans back against junpei slowly, carefully, despite how desperate he is for as much contact with him right now as possible. he places his hands on top of junpei's, looks at the way their fingers entwine like just the sight of them is enough to tether him into this moment, instead of letting all his memories whisk him away with them.

and he has to swallow back the initial urge to defend his mum; because, truly, deep down... ]

Yeah. I know. [ the words are quiet, like it pains him to say them. ]

And I can think that and still... get it, you know? I was always glad it was me and not her.

[Junpei squeezes his hands automatically, out of the desperate, clawing urge to make Charles feel even a single iota better about any of this, to reassure him that Junpei at least is here for him— and, a bit deeper down, to stop himself from flipping out. Flipping out won't help anyone, won't undo what's been done to Charles, but the way it kills him to hear Charles say things like that...

Well, it does. He sighs.]

You shouldn't've had to. I mean like, in general, right? But... you were the kid. Not her.

[Delicate, as much as he can be; one cannot simply say "your mom sucks" about this situation, but she still kind of sucked. Objectively, as a person responsible for the safety of a child.]

Do you get that, too? You were a kid. Kids aren't responsible for anybody else.

[ for a brief moment, he thinks that he really should have just kept quiet — that as he'd said, he's only managed to upset junpei. it's not like talking about this will really change anything... except junpei's understanding, the fact that there will be one person in all the worlds who now knows about it, and that means something.

means a lot, in fact.

and as difficult as it is, to speak of the things he's held back literally all his life and death... for this, it's worth it. for him, it's worth it.

so, with a sigh, he nods. ] Yeah, I get it. Didn't stop me from wanting to protect her.

[ for a moment, he's quiet; trying to muster up the resolve to say this thing, too, until finally, ] Just... I never told you I check in on them, did I? I can make the mirror show them. So I check, every week. The last time I did that, Mum had a cold. Dad made her chicken soup.

[ and this, more than anything else, is what makes his voice go so terribly empty, like he's felt all the things in the world about this in particular and no longer has the capacity for any of it. ] They're fine. He's... good. She's good.

[ and he should be happy about this — and a part of him certainly is! has not stopped being so ever since he realised the state of things! and yet. and yet, there is also a part of him that wants to punch the mirror every single time and ask why it is that he found it in himself to be good only after it all? to see that the capacity was always there, had always been there... but that whatever charles had been, then, it had never once been enough for his dad to reach for that capacity.

he'd only done so after he was already dead. ]

He's not good.

[That's immediate, not snapped or stern, but pretty much instantaneous. Junpei's met, well, a facsimile, but he's met a faithful enough recreation of Mr. Rowland to want to break his nose a few more times for what he's done to his family, so— no, he's not good.

Still, he knows why Charles would say that; why he would want to believe it, as much as it must also sting down to the bone at the same time. For his mother's sake, surely, but what about his own? Shouldn't Charles be allowed, at this point, to feel some fucking anger?

Junpei shrugs and shifts a bit, to press his cheek against Charles' shoulder.]

You can't un-ring a bell, right? So... You know. I don't want to argue about it, so that's, uh, just what I think.

[Sooooo yeah! That's how that's going, as best as it can.]

I know, [ he says, because his dad deciding to be a decent human being now doesn't erase him having been very much not decent at all for so long... nor does it earn him charles' forgiveness.

all it does it make him some kind of amalgamation of exhausted, angry and defeated, like it's the final stroke of paint on the canvas depicting just how inadequate he is. how much of a disappointment, in every way. ]

Sorry, [ he says after a moment, ] I knew it'd just upset you. And it's all over and done, anyway... it's not worth you being upset.

[ he's supposed to make junpei happy, not make him sad, or angry, or upset, certainly not over something that happened literal decades ago. ]

Hey, come on. You're doing the thing.

[The Thing, their mutual bad habit, deprioritizing himself because of something difficult to hear. They both know this one, so Junpei leaves it at the thing and squeezes Charles tighter, for emphasis. None of that, sir. No thing.

That and, well, on the tail end of this conversation in particular, in which Charles has admitted to protecting himself less for someone else's sake, well! Junpei would rather he not have to do that, or feel like he has to do that, ever again.]

You know I just... want to know where you're coming from. About stuff. And it's pretty fucking terrible stuff, but... thanks for telling me.

[That's what counts! He asked in the first place knowing full well it might be dreadful, like all of his own stuff is dreadful, so— he's fine. Harrowed, maybe. But fine.]

Would it help if I took my shirt off too...? Uh, not in a sexy way. Like an in-this-together way. [it made sense to him—]

Sorry, [ he says automatically, and grimaces immediately after at that very reflex. at least he can recognise it, now, even if shaking it entirely is proving to be something far more challenging. but it's something they're both trying to fight, so at least they're together in this.

still. he thinks back to their conversation around the new year, to how terrible that had been, too, and yet how necessary. ]

Yeah. And I do want you to know. I don't like talking about it, but I... you're the first one, ever, who I actually want to tell this to.

[ and though the telling it part is still so, so hard for him — that doesn't mean he doesn't want junpei to know him, all of him, the terrible, horrible parts, too.

the offer, once again, is so uniquely junpei logic that it startles a laugh out of him, a breath of air more than anything else, and then he's shuffling them around so he can just pull junpei to him, hold him close to his chest. ]

God, I love you. [ if he sounds a little choked up, over this of all things in this conversation, well! surely he's allowed.

and then, softly, ]

Sure. I mean, I don't want you to feel cold, but we can get a blanket.

[ and they can wrap the blanket around them and cuddle and it really makes no difference if junpei is shirtless, too, except the offer is so sweet and charles truly loves him so, so much, so that's going to be what they're doing. ]

dead to the power of two | OPEN

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cw: implied child abuse

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the cw applies still, like it really, really applies

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