Mushball universe, anyone who'd like to talk to Jou

[yellowlion]

I sit on the grass in our rear yard, legs crossed, and try to let myself sink into a meditative state. I don't do this very often. It's usually helpful, when I do.

I had the oddest feeling when I first met Joe, that I'd met him before. That this was meant to happen, in some way. Except he should've been wearing a blue leather jacket, and he was in tears, in my lab. Not a shy, troubled schoolkid convinced everything was his fault.

I pushed it aside as a stupid dream. When you have weird-ass dreams all the time anyway it's only too easy to assign meaning to them later.

But now? Now I'm beginning to wonder.

Comments

[gibken]

I pull away sharply and shake my head and lift both hands to grip my hair. "No. I don't want to talk about this anymore." I don't mean to snap at him, and I know he's only trying to help. But I can't even start to address the memories he's hinting at, because even coming this close is threatening to overwhelm. Guilt, all there is there is guilt. My fault, my fault, it was my fault. What happened to Sid-sempai. And I don't want to know.

"Something else. Can we talk about something else?"

[yellowlion]

Alarmed, I fold my hands in my lap so I won't be tempted to reach out again. He -- I keep remembering snatches of it and it's insanely frustrating -- he was upset in my lab then, but not like this.

"Something else to do with this, or something completely different, son?"

[gibken]

I close my eyes tight and breathe slowly, in and out, a few times. And then I give up and move forward again, hiding my face against his chest. "Nothing. Never mind. I don't want to know any more." I take another shaky breath, but I don't pull away. I'm trying to escape. "I don't want to be like this."

[yellowlion]

My arms come up around him automatically and I go into protective papa bear mode.

"Come inside, then," I say gently. "Do your homework, have dinner. Watch TV. Whatever you want, son. Let us take care of you."

[gibken]

His voice is so soft I almost don't catch it. I have to piece it together after he's done. Normal suggestions for a normal boy, and parents who love and care for their child.

Why was I in the military so young? How did I end up a pirate? Why are so many people in my past dead? I'm not a normal boy, but I guess my parents aren't really normal either.

I can't pull away yet, though. I choke on a pathetic sob and I feel about five as I cry weakly into his shirt.

[yellowlion]

I guess it's my day for making people cry. Not that I'm entirely dry-eyed myself.

I don't say anything stupid apart from the occasional, "I love you," into his hair. I just keep holding him, rubbing his back gently, letting him get it out.