riverviewlogs | feel like a brand new person

who: Aoba Seragaki and Dave Strider
what: GET LIT (also flowers of forced truth)
when: Sometime during the April event
where: AT THE CLUB!!!!
warnings: None right now, will update in subject lines in the off-chance things get spicy?

[ What does one do when they are suddenly reunited in the midst of a festival with a dear friend? When it's one so absent-minded as Dave, then you keep it simple, short and sweet. When you're Aoba, it's likely to be conservative until you find a means to loosen his tongue. The answer, therefore, is always alcohol, and the festivals are more than eager to deliver in that regard. So it's on plush sacks filled with soft pellets or feathers that the pair find themselves, staring up into a clear sky glittering with stars and moons and suns and earths.

Aoba is several drinks in and his talkativeness betrays this level of intoxication. He threads flower stems together as he grins lopsidedly at Dave, the effects of his drink have long already set in. ]

What do you think about the whole 'many other worlds' thing, anyway? I don't really know anything else but this, but... maybe you and your multiverse-hopping self can shed a little light on plebs like me?

[ Aoba waves vaguely as he drops a crown of flowers over Dave's head and shades. Made of Valerian. He has way, way too many of those and he's trying to offload them. And what better way than to make a flower crown whilst drunk? Aoba blinks down at Dave and then bursts into a giddy laughter. ]

Hahaha! I made it too big!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I don't think it has anything to do with you. It's just how I roll.

[Dave shrugs. This evening started so well, but now his discomfort seems to tighten around him to the point where he almost feels paralysed by it.

His eyes fall to the ground, but they shoot back up when Aoba seems to choke.]

I think you've had enough, buddy.

[ Aoba feels embarrassment drape over him like a heavy blanket. It's stifling, dulling his feeling from anything but the weight of that burden. He fixates on how he fucked up, that sensation that he touched on something but instead ended up tripping over it like a clumsy fool kicking a cord out of a wall.

He hates that, he hates feeling this way, and he hates that he ]

I'm fine.

[ There's a smidge more heat in his tone than he intends, but he's trying to diffuse his embarrassment with anger, a terrible combination after drinking. He's well beyond tipsy, judging from the way he uses too much force to push the flower away from his face. ]

...Maybe. I don't feel like I've had enough.

[ He's not talking about the alcohol. But also, he's not sure what he's talking about. There's a general feeling of dissatisfaction, but it's difficult to land it on a single, definitive target. He can't look at the mess of his troubles and pinpoint which of them is the root cause of his turmoil, nor does he know where to start looking. ]

So what do you mean, 'just how you roll' anyway?

[It's times like this that Dave wishes he were better at physical gestures. He feels the need to reassure Aoba, but words seem more like platitudes.

His fingers tap on his knee instead, and he studies Aoba's expression for a moment before he raises a hand for the waitress nearby, gesturing for more drinks.]

I don't know if you noticed, only I do know because I could not make it more obvious, but I'm kind of socially awkward.

[At that particular moment, the waitress steps in and sets the drinks down in front of them. He exchanges momentary, uncomfortable eye contact with her and they both nod before she walks away.]

[ Aoba likewise feels the need to explain or... apologize. But instead he just feels paralyzed by a small standing army of insecurities. He cuts himself off at 'but what did he mean by all of that' and then decides to just throw a flower at him, because he's a grown-ass adult who doesn't know what's happening or what he's doing. It requires less coordination than jabbing his elbow into his ribs. ]

You forgot to include coward.

[ Aoba slurs a petulant accusation that he means as a tease, but of course it comes out all wrong. He says this as if he's any less of one. He's not even sure why he's miffed, except he knows he's all confused in the head about a lot of things and situations aren't helping. Despite this, he flops back on the beanbag seat and against Dave's shoulder. ]

...It's okay, though. I'm not much better.

Coward? That's harsh.

[And he would like to play it off like he's laughing it off, but that really does feel like a bit of a knife between the ribs. Is he withholding something he shouldn't be, here?]

I think we're both better than that, I mean- being awkward socially. I guess it's cowardly but like, you work with what you've got and I haven't really like. Got it.

[He rubs the back of his neck. What is in the god damn drinks tonight? And why does he keep drinking them???]

My childhood didn't exactly shape me into a straight-forward, likable person. --And you know the night is beyond saving when you start talking about your dark, troubled past so like. Maybe we should go home.

[ Slumping into his chair, Aoba lets his head drop back onto it and rolls it to the side to look at him. He's surprised at how his brain-to-mouth filter seems effectively disabled, but how did Mizuki put it? He says he gets preachy when he's drunk, which Aoba disagrees with, but maybe...maybe he's onto something. Maybe he should stop drinking for now. ]

It's true you're weird. [ That was also kind of harsh... ] ...You never talk about yourself seriously, you know that right? So if you start now only to run away, I'm going to take it personally.

[ Oh, that...wasn't what Aoba intended to say, but it was the truth and the hand that covers his mouth is too late to stop the words from blurting out. He regrets them but also doesn't. He feels hurt from Dave saying he's glad Noiz is gone, and thrown off by implications that he's interested in him, and now suddenly just when he feels like he's about to learn something about Dave, he clams up. He looks at him, hand over mouth, and mumbles through it. ]

Maybe we should go home.

I can see why you’d feel that way but it’s not really about you, you know. Or anyone. It’s about me.

[And as he considers it, he’d feel shit if they just went home like this. He doesn’t want Aoba to feel hurt, though he does protest the idea that Aoba should take it personally. He grits his teeth and contemplates it for a moment.]

The way I grew up wasn’t like anyone else’s childhood. Everyone else has a mom or a dad or a grandparent and I had my brother and, I dunno. It never really seemed like he loved me or cared about me or knew anything about how to take care of another living thing.

[Dave leans over himself so he can fold his arms over his knees and slouch.]

So I had to learn to do everything for myself- but I still looked up to him. Like a real freaking chump. I thought the sun shone out of his weird, sadistic ass and now I'm an asshole too. Happy now?

Edited 2018-06-05 12:19 (UTC)

[ It's probably the alcohol talking, but that hurts. It balls up together like some kind of tacky slime ball that collects anything it runs into, bringing it into itself. He thinks he's worthless, something that disgusts other people -- not just because of what kind of people he likes, but because of the things he likes.

So this sort of talk. Of people who don't or won't accept others. It rubs raw nerves Aoba thought he was safe from here. For the most part, at least. He never had a real family like in the movies, with a sibling and a mother and a father. It was always just him and Granny.

Aoba breathes in sharply through his nose and can barely hold it before he asks in an exasperated hiss. He pushes up off the beanbag chair that encourages him to slouch with considerable effort, if only so he can nudge his shoulder with his own and let his own hiss be heard up close. ]

Why the hell would that make me 'happy'? ...That sounds awful!

[ Ah, the misunderstanding... and how people seem to speak the unfiltered truth of their own muddled minds while under the effect of alcohol. ]

Just... what kind of guy do you take me for?

[ Distantly, Aoba knows it's the alcohol talking, and the hurt. The canker sore of losing someone you thought you would have forever, thought you would eventually marry. Now they're gone and in place of it is this hot, sick anger and loss. Some vacuous space that someone else is glad for and Aoba doesn't really know how to reconcile any of it except to be impotently frustrated about it. He pushes his way past Dave and staggers to his feet. ]

No one deserves that, everyone deserves love from... someone! [ Aoba realizes how foolish that sounds. It doesn't make sense to anyone else, right? But he doesn't really know what else to say either, so he just shuts his mouth uselessly against the forced truth effect that relentlessly bares his intoxicated heart to anyone who'll listen. ]

feel like a brand new person

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject