[closed] I make a circle above your culture

[bunnyblock]

who: Noiz bunnyblock and Aoba bottombitch
what: Dumb boys talking about dumb things and videogames
when: July 22nd
where: Room 11
warnings: none!



[There's a loud, and somewhat electrical sound from one of the back rooms, and a bright flashing of light. Another sound, a light, but somewhat gleeful laugh as the room fills with a somewhat shuddery, but finally stable image of a virtual room. It looks almost identical to the rabbit-motif-obsessed hacker's bedroom, but everything seems to be somewhat vaguely pixellated.

Near him, where two of his rabbit blocks were hanging out, they were suddenly full-bodied rabbits with boxing gloves.

His head pokes out of the room, his hair a mess from falling asleep on his side against a wall earlier, and there's bags under his eyes--but he actually looks... oddly happy.]

Aoba.

Aoba, oi.

[You have to come see this.]

Comments

[bottombitch]

[ Ah, this is supposed to be normal, isn't it? Sometimes Aoba is so keenly aware of the difference between their timelines that he inadvertently creates rifts where they're totally unnecessary, keeping them both at a distance in a mistaken sense of courtesy or consideration for his feelings and yet...

Being from different points of a timeline, being the worrywart he can sometimes be, he ends up second-guessing himself, withdrawing or taking a step back and widening that distance out of a fear that he's pushing too hard. Being too greedy. ]

I... guess when you put it like that...

[ Aoba fiddles with the water, hiding his uncertainty by keeping his focus on this. He tests the water, adjusts... then turns to Noiz again. ]

The water's warm enough, I think. Here.

[ Lifting the shower head, he aims it down and away from hitting his face until he can tip it over his hair, soaking it and watching the messy mop plaster to his head. He hangs it up again to free his hands in the act of squeezing out some shampoo and spreading it between his hands before lifting them to Noiz' head. Carefully, he starts spreading the stuff through the light, strawberry blond hair until it foams, scrubbing gently. His tone is soft, barely audible above the running water. ]

... [ As he massages the soap into his hair, he lets himself focus on this task instead and not on his own cowardice. ]

But I more than just care, you know.

[bunnyblock]

[He opens his mouth to comment that he 'can't feel it anyway' when Aoba mentions the water being 'warm' enough--but quietly decides against it once the odd, far-off sensation of the others' fingers in his hair becomes something he's aware of.
He's still not entirely jazzed on the idea of being touched, but.

Even now, he was starting to crave the attention. It was ... strange. But the more time he spent around Aoba, the more he was starting to get used to having him around.
Wanting him around and getting a little aimless when he wasn't around.

He doesn't let his eyes close as the other works the soap into his hair, and when the other mentions 'I more than just care...'

His hand reaches up to grip the others' wrist.

He's quiet, at first--with that long, nearly oppressive stare that he fixes on the other. But after a moment he speaks, his tone hushed--almost uncertain.]

I need ... you to say it plainly.

[There's a hint of something nearly desperate in his tone, but he's clearly trying to keep his voice at its usual quiet calm.]

I want to hear you say it.

[bottombitch]

[ The idea that Noiz had only lecherous thoughts when it comes to the idea of bathing together serves as more than adequate cover, Aoba's distracted enough that he doesn't notice that the touch-averse hacker wants this attention and closeness. Here he is, on guard with a scolding ready on his tongue if he so much as tries anything when Noiz really is going through his own internal crisis.

Instinctively, Aoba flusters with a note of irritability. Why is he asking this out of the blue, for him to confess so openly? ]

...Wh-why, all of the sudden...? As if it's not obvious...

[ Suddenly the rush of the water from the shower head is deafeningly loud, but not so loud as the thudding pulse in his ears. The air feels stifling hot, or maybe that's just his skin. He tightens his lips together, brows in a worried knot as he struggles with the weight of those words.

'Say it plainly'. As if it's so easy. ]

...

[ He's aware of his feelings every goddamn day, would probably feel his heart break into pieces if he says them out loud only to hear an impassive 'oh' in response. It makes him hold his voice back, the words lodging in this tightening chest.

He has to suck in a breath to force them out. It's hard. Ridiculously hard, so he finds himself dropping his forehead onto Noiz' chest, because it's always easiest when he can hide his face. ]

I'm - I love you.

[bunnyblock]

[He's asking, plainly like this--because it isn't obvious. In his brain, that's been conditioned to accept that he'll forever be alone, that being alone is fine and it was better to be lonely ... is having trouble accepting the fact that there's someone else here.

There's someone else who wants to be in his life. Who gives up time and live with him, who does kind things without expecting money or information in return. He's... never met anyone like that, even when he'd become the Leader of RuffRabbit--his 'followers' only ever followed his lead for monetary gains or information about Rhyme.

Not a single one of them followed him out of interest of who he was or for his company...

So when Aoba's head rests against his chest, he's quiet as he lets those words sink in. Closing his eyes and doing his best to just... accept them as real, and not a dig for something else. A false sense of security, a lie from the mouth of someone who was just using him.

It's none of that. Aoba has proved... here, and back in Midorijima...

...

His hands finally move up, fingers almost shakily taking a rough, but (at least) not painful grip around the others' shoulders. Holding him tight, as if he's afraid the other will evaporate along with the steam.]

...Thank you.

[Probably not what Aoba wants--or even needs to hear, and it might even be somewhat offensive. ...if he were not to follow it up in the next breath:]

...Please teach me how.

I want to return it to you.

[bottombitch]

[ In the seconds (or minutes?) it takes for Noiz to answer, honestly Aoba can't tell - it feels like ages of standing before the edge of some terrifying drop. He latches onto his feelings for him and hopes it's enough. The air rushes out of his mouth when he feels the strong grip of his hands around his shoulders and he tenses, blinking at his chest. ]

...Eh?

[ Thank you? Is that... the kind of answer that would really put him at ease? He just confessed, with his insides tightening up with worry and holding his breath, only to hear words that -

Well, they make sense for Noiz, who thanks no one so directly. Rarely asks for anything, least of all politely. It's a bittersweet sensation, knowing that Noiz wants to, but that he doesn't yet.

Aoba tightens his arms around Noiz' waist in a hug, burying his face in his shoulder. There's so much going on in his head that his body doesn't know what to do with it all - his heart pounds, his skin feels cold, his stomach feels as if he dropped down several floors in a faulty elevator. It's too much, this persistent message that keeps running through his head:

You said it
You really said it
But he doesn't love you
He doesn't love you
He doesn't love you... ]

...It's okay if you don't.

It's... not something you owe me.

[ Aoba's eyes feel like they're stinging, hot and he doesn't dare open them. He naturally fixates on the worst possible outcome - that Noiz is only saying this because he feels that he owes him a debt. Knows it's not his fault he doesn't get it. He's been deprived of love from his parents, has felt little connection to people around him. Aoba realizes this is, if anything, the gentlest let down he could've asked for. But he regrets the words, if only because he feels that dream he's been living start to evaporate and his mind goes into a quiet panic. ]

[bunnyblock]

[If he knew, exactly, what kind of lines of dialogue were running through Aoba's head at the moment he'd answered, he'd be ready to smack him around more than a little bit. He was taking a negative spin on the fussy, hard-to-understand Hacker's words, and while it's entirely understandable...

Noiz' request to be taught hadn't been insincere. He was never shown anything like love before. It was such an alien concept to him that having to deal with it was leaving him at a loss.

He wanted to return it to Aoba, but without any concept of understanding what it even meant...

His fingers move over Aoba's neck, and his nails dig in a little frustratedly at his response. Owe. It was hypocritical, given he always tried tor return things to others because he always viewed everything in life as give and take, owe and owed...

But this was different. Hadn't Aoba been teaching him that?]

...Oi.

Open your ears.

[His reply is quiet, but sharp in its clear irritation. The way Noiz can get simple concerns across with just a few words. That hasn't changed.]

I don't do anything unless I want to.

...Idiot.

[Read: I want to do this, and you'd better show me.]

[bottombitch]

[ Aoba feels his fingers digging into the back of his head, biting into his skin, into a few errant strands of blue hair clinging to his neck that happen to stand in the way. Half moons are driven into them both and Aoba feels himself quake all the way down to the end of his spine in response. It hurts a little, tingles a lot. More importantly, it jolts him out of that broken record of negativity that cycles in his brain.

He said -

Open your ears
I don't do anything unless I want to
...I want to

Aoba's eyes widen, well up with tears and he feels big drops, stinging and wet, fall and splash down his cheeks. He stiffs, too hard not to be a telltale sign and tries to reign in his emotions - too little too late - and brings a forced joy to his tone that cracks on the highest of those strained notes.
]

Do you really...

[ Aoba grips his back, his fingers digging into his skin until he realizes it's to no avail - he won't feel the impressions his blunted nails leave in half-moons on his back. So he releases his grip in increments, his feelings leaking out instead through his eyes. When he drops back, he tucks his chin in low enough that it's a struggle to see his face clearly. ]

D-dammit, you've got shampoo in my eyes, I can't wash it out on my own - where's the water?

[ He'd dropped the shower head so it's hanging somewhere. ]