halfcocked | GET OUT OF MY HEAD, CHARLES

[isn't sure what it is himself until Hakuren looks at it--it's his curiosity about Jasdero and his relationships, he's friends with an Exorcist, it's so weird . . . I don't feel mad, but it's really weird, right? what does Jasdero do with his friends? does he get crushes on people? does he need them?

it's half worry and half brotherly nosiness.]

[smiling faintly, reflexively, gently setting it aside]

[a little embarrassed, but with the slight thrill that he gets from being embarrassed, something he doesn't let on to in the outside world; curiously checking one of the closed cabinets on Hakuren's side, now]

[they're not locked, but there are some which are harder to open than others, as if they've become stuck in place after being closed for so long]

[pulling hard on one of those, very curious, concentrating

what's this, can I have it?]

[there's a brief pause and a ripple of consideration, then--go ahead, if you'd like.]

[pulling it open, leaning harder on Hakuren, tender]

[it's the image of a young Hakuren--no more than ten or eleven years old--dragging a suitcase nearly as large as he is up the steps of a tall, elegant building that can't be anything but a church--outside there is a half-circle of seven statues, each robed in black and carrying a scythe; the emotions are a tangled mix of fear and regret and sheer single-minded determination]

[it's that time . . .

there's a spark of tenderness and a little amount of confused feelings and embarrassment at this scene, something about seeing the young Hakuren]

[I was very young.

the younger Hakuren is obviously struggling a little with his suitcase, but though other people pause to watch him, he doesn't ask any of them for help; there are the echoes of embarrassment and fierce, almost angry pride, the determination to accomplish this on his own no matter what.]

[I liked him. when I met him, it was a little weird, you were older then more like 13 but still a kid but I still wanted to kiss you a little I'm sorry

watching the young Hakuren, taking it in without surprise, incorporating it into his knowledge of Hakuren.

you haven't changed in some ways]

[blinking a little, clearly surprised for a moment. you did--?

in the memory, Hakuren has reached the top of the stairs somehow, red from the exertion, and there are the echoes of his old fear as he takes a deep breath to knock on the churck doors.

I'd forgotten about this ...]

[there's a quick flash of the memory of little Hakuren leaning on him sleepily, and a spark of desire to kiss him, mostly chastely--mostly--but Devit pushes it away; I want to see, what did you forget? what happens now?]

[a little unsure about that brief memory, but turning away from that, watching himself as a bishop welcomes his younger self into the church.

what else? my father wasn't exactly happy to let me go at first.

there's a blur, like time fast-forwarding, and then the brief image of a confrontation frozen in time--Hakuren, half-hidden behind a bishop and shouting at his father, who is clearly yelling back--but that fades quickly too, to the younger Hakuren fumbling with the last overtunic portion of the acolyte's robes, which are a bit too large for him.]

[ha ha, cute, little Hakuren . . . I don't have those things to show you . . .

there's a sudden tangle of familiar-feeling confusion, an attempt by Devit to observe his own memories of childhood, but there's little there but holes and tangled threads; there is no clear image of a child or sense of self, some confusion as to whether Devit or Jasdero or both are experiencing these things, some memories of being in school and disliking it, of being teased and unhappy, essentially nothing else.]

[in person, reaches for Devit's hand, squeezing it gently, offering a warm quiet affection as a buffer to that confusion]

[squeezes back, still pretty calm and unbothered; It's fine, that was my human life. It was so long ago. I don't remember it so good.

then, a moment of frantic thought--

--well?]

[a sudden warm ripple of amusement and affection both, closely entwined; yes, Devit, "well."]

[goes warm and happy and embarrassed at once, at that, and starts tugging at another closed cabinet.

What are the locked ones?]

[stills again, solemn, and sighs. they could be several things ...]

[a spike of worry; like what? we're okay, right? mostly? are you mad at me?]

[a feeling nearly like a sigh; not right now, no.]

[I hope not. good. I love you . . .

curling in closer, both physically and mentally, comforting]

[a little more hesitantly, but still genuine--I love you too.

leaning back, apparently not interested in looking at the other things scattered in Devit's mind for the moment]

[stops pressing at the cabinets, just leaning with him, sharing his feelings of warmth.

It's not perfect but that's okay. I think that's okay. You're not perfect but I love you.]

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