[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]

[ 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. ]