[ He's flashing back to the previous afternoon's conversation at his house, the food he'd cooked just laid out on the table for his blademate and his sister as he'd opened up to Brianna. He can't remember the exact words now, can only remember how he'd tried to ask if she'd ever had a friend that got her in a way that just felt right and received a response about how there were no such things as perfect friendships.
He'd had fun at the spa date -- that's the thing, he always, always had fun with Brianna -- but as they'd driven into Falner, he'd looked down at his phone to send a message to Hikaru about going out that night and inquiring as the Changeling always was, he'd replied with a lie that he'd buffered with a truth.
He's starting to wish he'd brought more than just the mattress to this place. He had two footballs at home ( one from Kaz, the other from Brig ) and if he'd had at least one here, maybe he could throw it repeatedly against the wall to work off the tension ache building in his bones. ]
I'm not sure.
[ It's not a lie, though it is probably a hedge. He doesn't like the feeling the lie has left in him. It feels like a poison he needs to wash out, a foreign thing in his blood.
It feels unfair to feel hurt over this, that a member of his most trusted friends would shut down the possibility of a closeness that he had felt so sure of. That he still feels sure of because yes, something has changed and it will never be the same, but he is surprisingly okay with making peace with it in a way that he could not with Rethe.
( That Malice King had been his guardian angel, and now a close, close friend in ways words could barely express. He never leaves that Walkman at home, keeps it close like a lucky charm, no less than three of his most favorite tapes packed with it. )
His gaze turns back to that wall, thoughts returning to the man asleep on the other side: the way he'd smile, the gestures of his hands whenever he talked, the precision in a look and the grace by which he just moved.
He had tried not to watch Hikaru when he'd danced, but had looked over a handful of times just the same, whenever he was sure the Blade King was occupied with a new temporary conquest.
"Why not?" Kaz had asked him on the phone as Josh had sunk quietly into one of those seats right outside Relik, and he'd stammered and babbled out excuses because he couldn't block out the image of the two of them pressed close, an image that had no anchor in Makoto's own memories.
This isn't the bleed from his adoptive geist. And what frightens Josh now is: What now, about all the other times prior to this? ]
no subject
He'd had fun at the spa date -- that's the thing, he always, always had fun with Brianna -- but as they'd driven into Falner, he'd looked down at his phone to send a message to Hikaru about going out that night and inquiring as the Changeling always was, he'd replied with a lie that he'd buffered with a truth.
He's starting to wish he'd brought more than just the mattress to this place. He had two footballs at home ( one from Kaz, the other from Brig ) and if he'd had at least one here, maybe he could throw it repeatedly against the wall to work off the tension ache building in his bones. ]
I'm not sure.
[ It's not a lie, though it is probably a hedge. He doesn't like the feeling the lie has left in him. It feels like a poison he needs to wash out, a foreign thing in his blood.
It feels unfair to feel hurt over this, that a member of his most trusted friends would shut down the possibility of a closeness that he had felt so sure of. That he still feels sure of because yes, something has changed and it will never be the same, but he is surprisingly okay with making peace with it in a way that he could not with Rethe.
( That Malice King had been his guardian angel, and now a close, close friend in ways words could barely express. He never leaves that Walkman at home, keeps it close like a lucky charm, no less than three of his most favorite tapes packed with it. )
His gaze turns back to that wall, thoughts returning to the man asleep on the other side: the way he'd smile, the gestures of his hands whenever he talked, the precision in a look and the grace by which he just moved.
He had tried not to watch Hikaru when he'd danced, but had looked over a handful of times just the same, whenever he was sure the Blade King was occupied with a new temporary conquest.
"Why not?" Kaz had asked him on the phone as Josh had sunk quietly into one of those seats right outside Relik, and he'd stammered and babbled out excuses because he couldn't block out the image of the two of them pressed close, an image that had no anchor in Makoto's own memories.
This isn't the bleed from his adoptive geist. And what frightens Josh now is: What now, about all the other times prior to this? ]