It may be. But yours...is very much so. That image, I mean.
[Just like him, he's not used to touch. Not used to others in his life. They're both solitary creatures, aren't they?]
[Nishi may shine bright like a star, but inside is a darkness that drags him down to the deep.]
[Lovecraft has always been down in the deep for as long as he can remember. He's never been bothered by it. It's simply a fact. The sky is blue. He belongs there.]
[That is his home.]
[And now, a person like this is there, too.]
I'm used to...dark things. So you are a sight for...these eyes of mine.
[He cups the side of Nishi's head, keeping him where he is.]
[Prone to introspection, Nishi often wonders if he was ever meant to be happy. He's found purpose in lifting others to their potential — people like Tsukasa and Noelle — but he struggles to see himself reaching the heights they will someday reach.
Maybe he gave up too soon, or he's too afraid, or the answer is far simpler than he can accept. Regardless, he feels the depths are where he belongs, drowned in a melancholy that seems to follow him across lifetimes.
Lovecraft, however, sees him differently: a blazing sun, a comet streaking across the night sky, someone worthy of admiration and trust. Nishi doesn't disbelieve him, he just finds it hard to perceive what Lovecraft does, blinded by the mask he wears rather than the man beneath.
He won't admit to needing comfort, yet he'll lean in closer, finding Lovecraft's touch unexpectedly warm.]
Perspective is a strange thing. On the surface, I might look friendly, warm, capable. In reality... I think you'll find we're far more alike than you realize.
[There's a brief movement of Lovecraft's mouth of that. The semblance of a a smile. A rare thing on such a usually dour face. Nishi says that like its some monumental statement, some grand reveal. Hilarious. He doesn't laugh, but maybe he should, here.]
...Isn't that why...you asked for me to work with you...in the first place?
[He tucks his hand underneath the other's jaw, presses it upwards a little, just so he can look down with his oddly purple eyes. The same dark purple as the rose that Nishi pressed between in his teeth in the form of petals, tearing it away.]
[From his cheek's perch against Lovecraft's shoulder, he catches the rare sight of that smile. The beginnings of a laugh that never quite comes. His first instinct is to bristle, to take offense, but then Lovecraft tilts his chin, makes him meet those violet eyes, and Nishi's hazy mind stalls.
The abyss, it turns out, is beautiful.]
...Ah. You've caught me in a contradiction.
[The truth he's overlooked his entire life: those who see past the mask choose to trust the man beneath it. His facade has never fooled everyone— never could.]
Well. Of course I asked you to work with me. You're capable. Stronger than you realize.
[For once, words fail him. Lovecraft is right, and Nishi has nothing to refute it with— but he can at least let his expression twist petulant, sulky as though that might cover the warmth in his chest.]
[He isn't. Even he has that amount of self awareness. He's not made for being outside, interacting with others, getting deals, or doing most general things in life without feeling exhausted or anxious about it. All he has is his ability. Nishi didn't even see that, yet he's so confident...]
[He exhales a little huff of a sigh, thumb pressed against the other's chin.]
[He hasn't blinked for a minute.]
We can both be the same and different. [He repeats after him, monotone. Makes no logical sense. But maybe on some irrational level it does. The petulance is cute - there's a little pinch to his eyebrows that seems so innocent compared to how Lovecraft knows the man can be.] I didn't mean it...in a bad way. There must be some...comfort in that.
[Lovecraft's monotone echoes him back, a mirror reflecting his own contradictions. Nishi huffs a soft laugh against the thumb pressed to his chin, eyes falling half-lidded. Those eyes of Lovecraft's have seen too much... but Nishi doesn't distrust him, so he can allow himself a little bit of honesty.]
Comfort, hm...
[It's almost foreign on his tongue, that word. He's offered his comfort to others readily, though it doesn't always land, and Nishi's way of caring for others often reads as harsh. Maybe they have that in common, too. Lovecraft may not radiate warmth and compassion — just the opposite — but there is so much more to him than appearances would suggest. Nishi does feel some degree of comfort, thanks to him.]
...I think there is. Though I'm not accustomed to admitting it.
[He leans the barest bit further into the touch, as though testing how long it will stay.]
You're a good man, Lovecraft. I don't hand out words like that carelessly.
[Nishi is timid and bold and angry and scared and worried and lonely and all of these things wrapped up in each other. Truly a mess.]
[Nishi also laughs like a little bell, he thinks. His thumb moves up, carresses his lower lip, wondering if he could hear such a thing again.]
...I'm not.
[A good man, really. He is selfish and petty and tired and anxious and too afraid of everyone else constantly. And he has blood on his hands. He is not good.]
[....Maybe he's not a man, either, though he isn't sure this is the time or place to express that fear that burrows in his chest.
[Lovecraft sighs a little, not pulling away.]
You see things I cannot see. [Like there's a part open to Nishi alone. No, John must have seen it, too, to have this much faith in him. To call him a friend.] But I will...also admit. You can also...offer comfort.
[He wouldn't just sit here like this with just anyone. He, like a cat, must feel safe, first.]
[He trusts the weight of his chin to Lovecraft's fingertips, leaning on him, comfortable doing so. He smiles at the thought that Lovecraft might be gaining something from this interaction more than Nishi is simply troubling him in his drunken state. Though really, he feels like the one getting the lion's share of the benefit here. His laugh, soft...?
Nishi tips his head to one side, curious. Almost disbelieving.]
You've heard my laugh on a couple of occasions now. The first time was not so pretty...
[An almost manic sound as he pulled the rose from Lovecraft's chest. The laugh of someone unwell on some deep, intrinsic level.]
[He can't even explain why. But it feel like it fit. Like he was familiar with it. It sat under his skin, made his nerves buzz in a way that felt like it added to the heat of pleasure. Lovecraft hums, dipping his head closer, forehead against forehead.]
[He doesn't remember laughing at all. Joy and mirth feel like foreign words that don't belong in his dictionary.]
[Even when they're this close, forehead to forehead, Nishi can't bring himself to look away. Lovecraft's eyes simply fascinate him with their depth, a sight that he takes full advantage of knowing others likely fear getting lost in Lovecraft's sights. Their loss.]
Hm? What is it?
[He'll answer Lovecraft's question, so long as he can.]
[He opens his mouth. Closes his mouth. Thinks of how to say it. Words never come easy to him. John was a talker. Hawthorne had an eloquent way with words. Twain was boisterous and friendly and the life of the party.]
[And then him, who feels like every word out of his mouth is spoken through water.]
If I wasn't...human. Would that make...any difference...to you?
[...There's that laugh again, the chiming of a bell. He can't be too aggrieved that the answer isn't obvious. After all, being appreciated in earnest is something Lovecraft is unused to.
So Nishi's answer comes without delay, his hand seeking Lovecraft's leg to hold fast to it, assure him.]
[Well, shouldn't it? Perhaps he's simply biased - he, who is constantly worried and afraid and thinking the worst out of everything. Wouldn't the logical thing any regular person would do when faced with a monster is run and hide? He's never understood why people are scared around him, but if what he thinks is true, then...]
[That would make sense.]
[But Nishi, of course, makes no sense. And accepts it as easily as anything.]
[He doesn't know what to say, gaze glancing to the side self-consciously, before they land back on Nishi's eyes. The hand feels like an anchor. It is reassuring.]
I still don't know what...who I am, but I...wanted to know. How you would feel if that was the case.
I can't say I know myself either, but I suppose my situation is a bit different. Regardless, there are some things I feel rather than think.
[Like his guiding principals. His personal values. Some things are intrinsic, part of the weave of someone's soul.]
What separates a monster from a man, in most eyes, is nothing more than perception. When people refuse to question those perceptions, they make poor judges of character. It sounds as if you've met too many of those types.
[He shifts, now, deciding something. He pulls away, but he's tugging the man after him, guiding him to rest his head in his lap if he follows. Here, he can have full access to that lovely soft hair, see his face in full.]
[Oh... A weakness of his— resting his head on a warm lap. Sure, Lovecraft lacks a woman's full thighs, but Nishi is no less comfortable for the lack of meat on his bones. He settles in place, blue eyes peering up.]
[He doesn't laugh because Lovecraft is wrong. He laughs because he's right.]
That it is, but I've never been good at shaking it off. [maybe therapy would help, but bro ain't going] But it doesn't hurt all the time. I can ignore it, at least for a while, if I'm focused on other things.
[Lovecraft truly is a compassionate soul. Misunderstood, undoubtedly, but Char is fortunate to be seen by eyes that reach beneath the surface.
He leans into him, weighing the words with genuine consideration, yet his resolve was set long ago. It's difficult to contend with the weight of a lifetime's sins— and the guilt that follows.]
Before I arrived here, I was prepared to vanish. I've died once before. I remember that now. And I remember it was my choice, the end I made certain would come to pass. Returning from death was never part of the design.
[His answer comes without delay. Perhaps it should have. From most, it would have. But Nishi has never been one to let regret guide him. It only gathers, heavier by the day, pressing against his soul, unheeded and unmourned.
His hand lifts, fingertips tracing the hard lines of Lovecraft's jaw with an almost absent tenderness.]
That would only be fair, wouldn't it? I never asked for this second chance. And when it's taken back, I'll walk willingly into the same hell I came from.
[Perhaps there is something to that. That this is only a brief gasp of air before the undertow takes him again. Nishi is a doomed man. There's nothing to do about that. Lovecraft has never known how to save souls.]
[The touch is nice, though - so unexpected for him to like this, given how unused he is to people. He leans into it like a lonely cat, heaving a little sigh.]
...Would you wish to have...someone to walk you there? At the very least.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
insistence) wrote2025-08-18 04:41 pm
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[Just like him, he's not used to touch. Not used to others in his life. They're both solitary creatures, aren't they?]
[Nishi may shine bright like a star, but inside is a darkness that drags him down to the deep.]
[Lovecraft has always been down in the deep for as long as he can remember. He's never been bothered by it. It's simply a fact. The sky is blue. He belongs there.]
[That is his home.]
[And now, a person like this is there, too.]
I'm used to...dark things. So you are a sight for...these eyes of mine.
[He cups the side of Nishi's head, keeping him where he is.]
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Maybe he gave up too soon, or he's too afraid, or the answer is far simpler than he can accept. Regardless, he feels the depths are where he belongs, drowned in a melancholy that seems to follow him across lifetimes.
Lovecraft, however, sees him differently: a blazing sun, a comet streaking across the night sky, someone worthy of admiration and trust. Nishi doesn't disbelieve him, he just finds it hard to perceive what Lovecraft does, blinded by the mask he wears rather than the man beneath.
He won't admit to needing comfort, yet he'll lean in closer, finding Lovecraft's touch unexpectedly warm.]
Perspective is a strange thing. On the surface, I might look friendly, warm, capable. In reality... I think you'll find we're far more alike than you realize.
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[There's a brief movement of Lovecraft's mouth of that. The semblance of a a smile. A rare thing on such a usually dour face. Nishi says that like its some monumental statement, some grand reveal. Hilarious. He doesn't laugh, but maybe he should, here.]
...Isn't that why...you asked for me to work with you...in the first place?
[He tucks his hand underneath the other's jaw, presses it upwards a little, just so he can look down with his oddly purple eyes. The same dark purple as the rose that Nishi pressed between in his teeth in the form of petals, tearing it away.]
[The abyss also can stare back.]
Didn't you see...yourself?
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The abyss, it turns out, is beautiful.]
...Ah. You've caught me in a contradiction.
[The truth he's overlooked his entire life: those who see past the mask choose to trust the man beneath it. His facade has never fooled everyone— never could.]
Well. Of course I asked you to work with me. You're capable. Stronger than you realize.
[For once, words fail him. Lovecraft is right, and Nishi has nothing to refute it with— but he can at least let his expression twist petulant, sulky as though that might cover the warmth in his chest.]
We can be both the same and different.
[Not even slightly convincing.]
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[He isn't. Even he has that amount of self awareness. He's not made for being outside, interacting with others, getting deals, or doing most general things in life without feeling exhausted or anxious about it. All he has is his ability. Nishi didn't even see that, yet he's so confident...]
[He exhales a little huff of a sigh, thumb pressed against the other's chin.]
[He hasn't blinked for a minute.]
We can both be the same and different. [He repeats after him, monotone. Makes no logical sense. But maybe on some irrational level it does. The petulance is cute - there's a little pinch to his eyebrows that seems so innocent compared to how Lovecraft knows the man can be.] I didn't mean it...in a bad way. There must be some...comfort in that.
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Comfort, hm...
[It's almost foreign on his tongue, that word. He's offered his comfort to others readily, though it doesn't always land, and Nishi's way of caring for others often reads as harsh. Maybe they have that in common, too. Lovecraft may not radiate warmth and compassion — just the opposite — but there is so much more to him than appearances would suggest. Nishi does feel some degree of comfort, thanks to him.]
...I think there is. Though I'm not accustomed to admitting it.
[He leans the barest bit further into the touch, as though testing how long it will stay.]
You're a good man, Lovecraft. I don't hand out words like that carelessly.
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[Nishi also laughs like a little bell, he thinks. His thumb moves up, carresses his lower lip, wondering if he could hear such a thing again.]
...I'm not.
[A good man, really. He is selfish and petty and tired and anxious and too afraid of everyone else constantly. And he has blood on his hands. He is not good.]
[....Maybe he's not a man, either, though he isn't sure this is the time or place to express that fear that burrows in his chest.
[Lovecraft sighs a little, not pulling away.]
You see things I cannot see. [Like there's a part open to Nishi alone. No, John must have seen it, too, to have this much faith in him. To call him a friend.] But I will...also admit. You can also...offer comfort.
[He wouldn't just sit here like this with just anyone. He, like a cat, must feel safe, first.]
[What a notion. Does Nishi make him feel safe?]
....Your laugh is soft.
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Nishi tips his head to one side, curious. Almost disbelieving.]
You've heard my laugh on a couple of occasions now. The first time was not so pretty...
[An almost manic sound as he pulled the rose from Lovecraft's chest. The laugh of someone unwell on some deep, intrinsic level.]
...Or would you disagree?
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I would...disagree. It was pretty, too.
[He can't even explain why. But it feel like it fit. Like he was familiar with it. It sat under his skin, made his nerves buzz in a way that felt like it added to the heat of pleasure. Lovecraft hums, dipping his head closer, forehead against forehead.]
[He doesn't remember laughing at all. Joy and mirth feel like foreign words that don't belong in his dictionary.]
[Perhaps laughing is an altogether human thing.]
...Nishi. May I ask you...something?
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Hm? What is it?
[He'll answer Lovecraft's question, so long as he can.]
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[And then him, who feels like every word out of his mouth is spoken through water.]
If I wasn't...human. Would that make...any difference...to you?
[Would you be afraid?]
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So Nishi's answer comes without delay, his hand seeking Lovecraft's leg to hold fast to it, assure him.]
Not one bit. Should it make any difference to me?
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[Well, shouldn't it? Perhaps he's simply biased - he, who is constantly worried and afraid and thinking the worst out of everything. Wouldn't the logical thing any regular person would do when faced with a monster is run and hide? He's never understood why people are scared around him, but if what he thinks is true, then...]
[That would make sense.]
[But Nishi, of course, makes no sense. And accepts it as easily as anything.]
[He doesn't know what to say, gaze glancing to the side self-consciously, before they land back on Nishi's eyes. The hand feels like an anchor. It is reassuring.]
I still don't know what...who I am, but I...wanted to know. How you would feel if that was the case.
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[Like his guiding principals. His personal values. Some things are intrinsic, part of the weave of someone's soul.]
What separates a monster from a man, in most eyes, is nothing more than perception. When people refuse to question those perceptions, they make poor judges of character. It sounds as if you've met too many of those types.
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[Was everyone just a poor judge of character, then?]
[Was everyone wrong about him?]
[He closes his eyes - their faces are so close. As if he could sleep here, and keep him close. For warmth, perhaps.]
Have you met those types too...? Nishi.
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...Yeah, I think I probably did. At least, I convinced myself that I did.
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[He shifts, now, deciding something. He pulls away, but he's tugging the man after him, guiding him to rest his head in his lap if he follows. Here, he can have full access to that lovely soft hair, see his face in full.]
It shouldn't. Concern you. I think.
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...Why not?
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[It isn't worth it.]
[His hand continues to pet through his hair, slowly but surely.]
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[He doesn't laugh because Lovecraft is wrong. He laughs because he's right.]
That it is, but I've never been good at shaking it off. [maybe therapy would help, but bro ain't going] But it doesn't hurt all the time. I can ignore it, at least for a while, if I'm focused on other things.
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[John was the same. He put all his anger inside of him, and it burst out at times like his vicious vines of the Grapes of Wrath. Was that needed?]
Either way. It shouldn't...destroy you.
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He leans into him, weighing the words with genuine consideration, yet his resolve was set long ago. It's difficult to contend with the weight of a lifetime's sins— and the guilt that follows.]
Before I arrived here, I was prepared to vanish. I've died once before. I remember that now. And I remember it was my choice, the end I made certain would come to pass. Returning from death was never part of the design.
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[So what is this, then? Is this hell? Purgatory? The void? Is Nishi nothing more than a ghost? But he feels so real. So alive.]
[He lets out a grumble.]
Do you wish to return to death again? To set what was before...?
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His hand lifts, fingertips tracing the hard lines of Lovecraft's jaw with an almost absent tenderness.]
That would only be fair, wouldn't it? I never asked for this second chance. And when it's taken back, I'll walk willingly into the same hell I came from.
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[Perhaps there is something to that. That this is only a brief gasp of air before the undertow takes him again. Nishi is a doomed man. There's nothing to do about that. Lovecraft has never known how to save souls.]
[The touch is nice, though - so unexpected for him to like this, given how unused he is to people. He leans into it like a lonely cat, heaving a little sigh.]
...Would you wish to have...someone to walk you there? At the very least.
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