underlined | IC INBOX: INUGAMI

[There's ambiguity and ambivalence all around, as Keisuke honestly isn't sure how he feels.

Not bad? But not necessarily good? He doesn't know.

He's happy that she texted, though.]

oh um
yeah i think so... just kind of out of it i guess
howre you?

i'm doing pretty good
then again
i didn't just have someone from home show up and make me look like i'd just seen a ghost
so

[ subtlety, thy name is dal dal. ]

[It's for the best; Keisuke has a habit of not noticing a lot of subtleties.

And oh, yeah, she was in the classroom to have seen that... Shit, everyone saw it...]

oh...
um yeah... hes my friend, akira
i just wasnt really expecting him to show up so suddenly...

friend

[ how she managed to translate all that dubiousness in just a single word, the world may never know ]

so it's not a problem?

hes the person ive known the longest

[He supposes one would call that "friend." While Akira had assured him he doesn't detest his presence, Keisuke can't help but worry that he doesn't find much positive in it either.]

no... i dont think so
i mean well... um
its kind of hard to text it... where are you right now?

home ec room
it's getting late
if you're gonna come here, come now

im nearby. ill be there in a sec

[And it really doesn't take that much more than a few minutes for Keisuke to show up, the door handle turning a bit and the door opening just a tad to indicate his arrival before he passes through the door in full.

He glances up to Dal Dal, expression somewhat inscrutable: mostly because he still, days later, isn't sure how he's feeling about anything.] Hey. [Turning his attention to whatever she's doing.] What're you doing?

[ he'll find her at one of the tables in the home ec room, making use of the large counter space to start cutting out some star shapes in the spread of sugar cookie dough before her. ]

Making cookies!

[ her lips press into a smile, even if her eyes are watching him too carefully to smile as well. ]

Want some? They'll take maybe a half-hour more.

[He gravitates towards the table to get a closer look, thinking that the star shapes for the dough were clever and cute—he'd never seen something like that, though he could probably count on one hand the number of times he'd actually seen someone making fresh-baked cookies in his life. The smell of sugar was calming, harkening back to moments of childhood happiness born from a very rare treat.]

I like the shapes. [His voice is very quiet, his presence somewhat subdued as well. He leans against a nearby counter, watching her as she worked.]

Oh... yeah, I'd enjoy that. Thanks.

[Focusing on the table, looking down. His hands are clasped together in front of him, fingers working at the start of a hangnail. He didn't really like talking openly about the stuff in this vein, the stuff that seemed to upset him the most. It was not common in their world for people to do that, and his only friend for the longest time had been Akira, who he didn't want to bother. So it's hard to reach past the mental block of just keeping it to himself, but he... wants to try. Tell me how I can help. He didn't know how to let Dal Dal help him, but maybe if he talked a bit, she could figure something out?

Pause.]

Um. [Voice still soft but deeper now, earnest and serious.] Before I came here, we got into an argument. [Though that was an interesting way of putting it—it had mostly been Akira lashing out at Keisuke until he decided to leave. But Akira had just indirectly killed someone (or sent them to a fate worse than death). Neither of them had known how to respond to that.] He - apologized. So... [He reaches up to rub at the back of his neck. Softer:] I don't really know what to think.

[ she does her best to stay quiet. quiet and patient, which are two things dal dal choi is not known for. but it helps to keep busy, to focus her attention and hands on cutting out those shapes, on reworking the dough and rolling it out and cutting more shapes until there's barely any dough left.

by the time she's made over a dozen stars, he finishes speaking, but dal dal still waits a few moments to be extra sure it's okay for her to respond. ]

...isn't the usual thing to feel after someone apologizes happiness? Or relief, at least. If it's a sincere apology, I mean.

[ she's watching him carefully, but trying not to be so intense about it. ]

Unless you were hoping for something else...

[His words aren't necessarily the best to describe it. It hadn't been much of an argument (one-sided as it was, all lashes and barbs from Akira while Keisuke had lowered his head to accept them, startled and confused at the sudden caustic barrage from his friend who was usually impassive at worst), and Akira's words hadn't been much of an apology (more of an explanation, an excuse). He interpreted them that way, though, and he knew that Akira had probably apologized for his actions enough times in his life to count on one hand (if any hands at all). Admitting he had been wrong—allowing himself to be mistaken—was enough for Keisuke.

...But was it?

He should feel happy. He should feel overjoyed. Just like how Dal Dal pointed out, this was everything he could've wished for.]

I am happy. And relieved. [He didn't hate him. It was enough that it made him want to cry, though he wouldn't allow himself to. He also doesn't have any reason to think Akira would be insincere (it's not really in his programming).

Maybe that was it.

Something else... no. He couldn't allow himself to hope or wish for anything else. Being able to be near him was enough, wasn't it? He bites his lip, shaking his head ever-so-slightly.]

...No. [a brief pause] There's - there's nothing more for me to hope for.

[He's lying, but he doesn't think he is. He genuinely believes it. The emotional quagmire that Akira instilled in him was something he didn't want to deal with, and to want any sort of reciprocation was—ludicrous. Wrong. Which, unfortunately for him, writes a line of mental division clear across his face.]

[ slowly, dal dal lowers the star-shaped cookie cutter unto the counter, then quietly places her own hands there, flat on the leftover flour. from the heavy rise and fall of her chest, it's clear she is attempting to reign something in at that moment. even more clear by the way she is now refusing to meet keisuke's eyes. ]

...it's okay to want more, you know.

[ she can still remember her brief interaction with that boy. quiet and arrogant, carrying an air of affected indifference that still leaves a bad taste in dal dal's mouth. she doesn't like him, and keisuke's uncertainty here only makes that feeling more pronounced.

it isn't happiness she senses behind the other's words, after all. but fear. ]

Just like it's okay to leave when you aren't getting it.

[ her hands clench into fists. ]

Take it from someone who's just learning to let go.

[He's afraid to, but he slowly glances over towards Dal Dal, to see how she's handling the conversation—he might not be the best at it, but Keisuke is moderately good at reading these things. He almost didn't need to be, with how different her demeanor was from normal. He feels tense, nervous, wondering if maybe he should keep quiet and if that would be better. He doesn't want to weigh her down with his problems when they were just that—his.

Instead, she speaks up. His gaze sharpens on her a little more, hesitant and confused. What? He immediately disagrees, a sort of instinctual recoil at the idea. He had long since relegated how he felt to something unfortunate but immutable; he would deal with it (which largely meant ignoring it) and move on.

More... no, it was impossible. And he didn't want to raise his expectations. It would just make this more difficult.

Keisuke doesn't fear Akira. He's actually one of the people he feels the safest with, a comfort made from over a decade of familiarity. But he did fear how dependent he was on him, how a misunderstanding had brought him dangerously close to a terrible mistake. He feared himself, in that regard.

It's too bad, but he can't agree. He hangs his head, silent for a long moment. He remembered what the ghost had said about her. It was probably what she meant by moving on. From his own experience, he can't even imagine how difficult that was.

But it... felt different for him. It was one way here, but if they went home...]

...I don't have anything else. [His voice is small, heavy as his eyelids shielding his eyes from her as he looks at the floor. Back home, Akira had been all he had. All he really cared to have. This place had taught him he could try to find more but—he's not sure that's possible there. The people back home were different. He was different.

He takes a deep breath, one that rattles in his chest.] I just don't want to lose him.

[Again.]

[ by now, she's bitten down so hard on her lower lip that it's started to bleed. her hands have clenched, white-knuckled, and her shoulders start to shake, but she doesn't want to look back up at keisuke and for fear of what she might see there—

her own fears. her own hesitations.

she's tired of crying. more than that, she's tired of crying for him. how many times had she ripped her heart out and laid it bear in front of jae gu? how many times had he turned away the moment queen came around?

she knows she's not the greatest person in the world. sometimes, she doesn't even think she's all that good of a person. does that mean she doesn't deserve better? ]

...I used to think that it was okay if I didn't get anything back, because I loved him. And that that was enough. Sometimes, it felt like enough. But then someone told me it didn't have to be that way, that it shouldn't have to be that way, and it hurt a lot because I think, deep down, I knew that too. I cried a lot that night, but it was good... It was... freeing.

But now...

[ a bit of blood drips down to the leftover dough left in front of her on the counter. useless, now. ]

Am I wrong again?

Edited 2015-08-24 15:46 (UTC)

[What does any person deserve? Does that even matter? He doubts it. In the grand scheme of things, the world was too cruel to give people their fair due.

Keisuke doesn't look up to face her until she's started speaking again—it's a slow and dull realization, the tension that's come over her, winding the lines of her body into springs with tension, baring knuckles white and lips burning a brighter crimson than usual with blood seeping from a fresh cut. Alarm sinks into his stomach like a piece of lead; what had he done? So unused to people really caring, he hadn't even thought that this would affect her like this—

And then there's what she says. The words sink into him like claws, hollowing out a fissure of truth and sympathy into the walls he'd built around his own complexes and inadequacies. He understands. Most times, it does feel like it was enough—and when it didn't, when he found himself daring to possibly want anything else, he clamped down on that with revulsion and self-loathing. It was abusive to himself. It—was that which was wrong? Was he wrong for this?

His eyes have grown tense, the expression around them taut and worried. He's silent for a moment, feeling woefully ill-equipped to this, but—]

...No. [He's got a way with sounding impossibly earnest, even when his voice is small, meek.] No, you're not wrong, Dal Dal... y - you're not.

[But for himself, he—can't say. They might be in similar situations, but they weren't the same person. It doesn't change the fact that there wasn't anyone else in Keisuke's life but Akira—without him was just a wide world, an unwelcoming one, especially for soft-hearted fools like Keisuke. He fears he'd get eaten alive, gnashed between the jaws of Toshima or wherever else he ended up.

But here...? That was a different story. He's not prepared to think of the possibility of being stuck here for who-knows-how-long.]

I - I just... [it's his turn to bite his lip, though he doesn't even have the conviction to break the skin,] m - ...maybe it's a mistake, what I'm doing, but... I'm not sure I can change that now.

[His head falls slightly. He's... just not used to someone really noticing and caring that something was hurting him. It's—weird, and it ends up feeling worse. He feels responsible for what she's going through as well.]

...I'm sorry.

[ she sniffles once, and that's all she allows. no more tears, no more pain. or at least that's what she wills, even if her body and heart disagree, even if it all still feels so raw, so fresh.

it isn't fair, what she's doing. it isn't fair to compare her life to his, when she barely even knows him, when he's barely even let her in. it was all too easy to, of course, and easier still to steamroll his own emotions and struggles and cookie-cut them to fit her own, or her own perception of them.

whoever akira is to keisuke, no matter what dal dal thinks of him or that relationship — it's not her place to say, and it's not her place to judge. she can think all she wants, but she had promised herself a while ago that with this, with keisuke, she'd step back.

stop saving him when he didn't want it. and just be there for him when he did. if he did. ]

...I'm sorry too.

[ hastily, she reaches up, smearing tears and flour along her cheeks. ]

I always thought love was supposed to be beautiful... [ she laughs, a sharp, gasping sound, bubbling wet at the edges. ]

[It was all too easy to project when one viewed another as having a problem similar to their own. It was a common human pitfall—naturally, people are creatures that search for patterns to find solutions.

The issue that arose from that was that, despite the surface-level similarities, one person's issues would never be truly identical to another. Keisuke came from a different world with a different global situation, different people who handled situations circumstances differently, and on a fundamental level he was a different person than Dal Dal. Perhaps she could attempt to find strength outside of the person she cared for. That person wasn't here. It might be easier that way.

But Akira was here, and even when he hadn't been, Keisuke hadn't felt any stronger on his own. He'd felt more lost. After over ten years with a certain type of an anchor in his life, it was completely alien to consider otherwise.

He couldn't completely explain to her what Akira meant to him. He couldn't adequately figure that out himself.

He's quiet for a moment. He's wondering when they're finally going to stop apologizing to one another.

She only moves to make matters worse when she rubs at her face. He takes a half-step closer, actions slow and gentle, tugging his sleeve down so he could use it to help... as best he could, anyway.

He laughs too, though it's a quiet and sad sort of sound, almost feeling like a choke in his throat and in his chest than an actual laugh. It was—optimistic. He'd never heard that type of thing. Love had fallen out of their culture; necessity was far more important.]

...That'd be too easy, wouldn't it. [Tone low and with a touch of seriousness, though there was a self-deprecating humor to it too. He didn't expect any of this to... work. It would just be a chronic pain he—they—lived with.

A pause.] So... how much time for the cookies to be done...?

[ there is a wry twist to her lips at his words. sad, but in a resigned sort of way. ]

I guess it would be.

[ maybe she was wrong to believe in such things. maybe it was too naive and foolish of her to think anything in real life could be like the fairytales and k-dramas, that love could fix anything, so long as you worked hard enough for it.

and maybe she's wrong, still, to keep hoping for it. ]

Twelve, fifteen minutes? They aren't that thick, but there are a lot of them. Hand me one of those baking sheets over there—

[ she gestures, finding it easy enough to fall into inane chatter even when their minds are obviously elsewhere. ]

[Maybe he'd been better trained for this by the world he'd grown up in. There hadn't been any romantic comedies, any gentle and positive anecdotes from elders to expect good things because that's what a good person deserved to have happen to them. No, the sky had split open with bombs, countries dividing and secluding, violence and animosity becoming status quo even after the war had ended. People knew better. The fact that he would be trapped with feelings that only inspired intense anxiety for him felt natural. He had never expected anything good to come of it because he rarely expected any good to come from any aspect of life.

But positivity and optimism were nice. He wished he could think that way.]

Okay. [He fetches one of the sheets she had indicated, handing it over to her carefully.

He tries to offer a small smile.] Can't remember the last time I had cookies... did you make them from scratch and everything?

[ she'd always wonder about that, really — which must be the worst fate? having no experience of that kind of life, or getting a taste of it only to have it ripped away from you?

then again, maybe it's not about which is better or which is worse. both fates seem cruel enough. ]

I did. [ she beams, just a little bit, because there is still that part of her that blossoms under the idea of someone she cares about enjoying her food. ] Once I learned the basics, it was easy enough to get going from there. You just follow a recipe!

[ she hesitates a little, watching her hands work as they lay the cookies out one by one. ]

...I can teach you sometime, if you want.

[It provided a strange frame of reference for him here, especially since, by and large, most of the people he spoke with typically were from more peaceful places. It—made him want to help, to protect as well as he could, but it also made him worry he couldn't do what he wanted—

Right. Cookies. There was time for cycling into worry later.

It's amazing that anyone could make anything from scratch to him, even if they were following a recipe. Raw ingredients and the skill to create them were rare enough.

But...] I... guess if I had the ingredients and the recipe, I could do it. [Pause.] I - might need some help, though. I never really cooked much...

[Most of his meals came out of plastic wrap; he looked at the oven like it was an alien machine.

But she went as far as to offer. He smiles at her, genuinely pleased.] Oh... good. I'll take you up on that, then.

Do you cook often?

My mom is a food researcher back home.

[ there is a softness in her tone as she speaks, an almost wistful look in her eyes even as she busies her hands around the area. ]

So I grew up around it. I've been cooking longer than I've been doing Taekwondo.

[ though she almost always never remembers this... until she's actually back in the kitchen, doing it. ]

And if you ask me, [ dal dal says, chest puffing a bit in pride, ] baking is a lot easier than cooking. You follow a recipe correctly enough, and you're bound to make something decent. Cooking has a lot more room for freestyling, and that's where experience and talent comes in.

Food researcher...? [The term obviously sounds foreign to him. The only thought that comes to mind to him was the people who must've invented Solids back home, discerning what nutrients were necessary to human existence and figuring out how to synthesize them and manufacture at the lowest possible cost. Keisuke wasn't angry—one could subsist off of them for very little money, which was necessary. And you got used to the artificial, chemical taste after a while...

Of course, having a mom (or a parent, at all) was just as foreign a concept. The family he'd been assigned to after the war ended hadn't been a family. At best, they were neglectful. At worst—

In any case, he isn't sure what he respects her more for. Both martial arts and culinary arts are like complex codes to him, almost unattainable for himself though, if she was willing to teach, he was willing to try.]

...Baking might be better for me, then. [A small, shaky smile, though at its core it's self-deprecating. One who knows Keisuke well can tell the difference.] I'm not sure I'd have many good instincts for cooking. But... that's incredible. You're - talented in many things, Dal Dal.

[He really does think she's incredible. But it does make him feel remarkably plain and talentless in comparison, though.]

[ there is a sudden loud, booming sound as dal dal slams the oven door shut after slipping the two baking sheets in. she grabs up the timer as she straightens, but her attention is on keisuke as she twists the dial. ]

I am, [ she says, and quite plainly too. no boasting, no arrogance — just stating simple facts. ]

But I was fortunate, too.

[ she recognizes her privilege, at least. especially here, when hearing about all the other worlds she's never even dreamed of. half the time, she thinks she's at a disadvantage; her world is too simple, too light, preparing her for none of the horrors here. but the other half, she thinks maybe it's because of that that she's managed to stay upright so often, for so long. ]

Don't think I just woke up one day and knew how to be this good, Keisuke. I worked hard for a long time. You can too.

[Keisuke's shoulders jump a bit at the sudden sound. He's lived through a world war, so he's a little sensitive to that, even if he doesn't remember it all that well.

The thing about Keisuke is he will never recognize any acknowledgement of skill as arrogance. He understands that she's just stating facts, largely because he's aware he couldn't really think of anything to do the same for. One could say he has other skills—that surviving at all back home was a skill unto itself. He can't really see it that way, though. He'd relied on Akira for so long; he barely felt as though it had come across as anything he'd done.

He did tend to forget that it was something that one had to work at, though. he'd thought that it was just something innate, that Akira had been so skilled at Bl@ster, but it's very nearly everything he'd ever done.]

I guess I just gotta - decide what I want to work on, then. I'm not sure fighting is anything I'll ever really be great at, [because that was actually something he had been exposed to his whole life, and it'd never worked out.] But cooking - maybe.

IC INBOX: INUGAMI

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oh no...

indeed

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