[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.
[Nishi has spent his life walking a solitary path— not from craving isolation, but because he knows no other way. Letting someone in means exposing himself to pain he is ill-equipped to endure, each betrayal leaving its sting.
His fingers curve along Lovecraft's jaw, thumbing his cheek in slow, deliberate motions.]
I'm a lonely man... but you understand that. We both are. To walk alone into the dark feels like the fate meant for me. Still, I want to believe in a future for you. One where you can be free, happy... alive.
[His eyes are lidded, enjoying the attention. Nishi says they are lonely...is that really the case? He has always craved being free of the anxiety that is humanity. To be in a room, a bed, far far away from others seems like heaven.]
[But can he really say that's the case, here?]
[His own hand cups over the other's ear.]
You need not worry about me. [He feels confident in that, somehow.] I can...survive more than you think. I don't know how, but...it's the truth. I can't be defeated so easily.
[Nishi studies him as though searching for cracks in that confidence, the kind of flaw that would prove him wrong. But there's nothing— only the steady weight of Lovecraft's hand against his ear. The gesture itself is grounding, enough to make him pause.]
You speak as though survival alone is enough.
[He knows it well. Survival for the sake of it. Continuing on, because what else is there? He's lived his life by the same creed, but the hollowness of it is something he would not wish on anyone— least of all this man.]
I don't doubt your resilience. But tell me... will that be enough to make you feel alive?
[don't bring boats into this crystal this is not the time
Nishi gives into the temptation to let his eyes slip closed. When was the last time he let someone play with his hair, allowed himself the privilege of enjoying it? Even in the parts of his memory that he can no longer reach, he doubts it happened often.]
Hm.
[Mmmm. What to do... He can't leave that statement go even if he's the last person qualified to fill the void in anyone's soul, but—]
Maybe you can be. While there's life still in you, there's the opportunity to experience joys you've never known before.
I can't offer you much... but I can show you all the things that make me feel alive.
[Odd and few as those things are, they're mundane enough that Nishi can promise him this.]
[His own eyes are almost closed - not that he's in any danger of drifting off. He wants to stay awake for this. Perhaps there is some small part of him that is truly, honestly greedy for little things like this that don't matter in the long run.]
[He smiles again.]
[Another offering, perhaps. It pleases him. Makes him feel warm.]
I will take...whatever you have to offer. [And a little noise, a rumbling pleasant sigh.] One of such things would be referring to what we did before, hm?
[Not offended one bit. With how light he asks it, perhaps he's teasing.]
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insistence) wrote2025-08-18 04:41 pm
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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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[Nishi has spent his life walking a solitary path— not from craving isolation, but because he knows no other way. Letting someone in means exposing himself to pain he is ill-equipped to endure, each betrayal leaving its sting.
His fingers curve along Lovecraft's jaw, thumbing his cheek in slow, deliberate motions.]
I'm a lonely man... but you understand that. We both are. To walk alone into the dark feels like the fate meant for me. Still, I want to believe in a future for you. One where you can be free, happy... alive.
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[But can he really say that's the case, here?]
[His own hand cups over the other's ear.]
You need not worry about me. [He feels confident in that, somehow.] I can...survive more than you think. I don't know how, but...it's the truth. I can't be defeated so easily.
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You speak as though survival alone is enough.
[He knows it well. Survival for the sake of it. Continuing on, because what else is there? He's lived his life by the same creed, but the hollowness of it is something he would not wish on anyone— least of all this man.]
I don't doubt your resilience. But tell me... will that be enough to make you feel alive?
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[It is enough. He simply exists. Persists. Like a mountain, or a shipwreck. There's no "living". There's no joy in it.]
[He sighs a little, unsure how to answer, fingers curling as he buries them deeper into that lovely hair.]
I'm not one who knows...what "feeling alive" is.
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Nishi gives into the temptation to let his eyes slip closed. When was the last time he let someone play with his hair, allowed himself the privilege of enjoying it? Even in the parts of his memory that he can no longer reach, he doubts it happened often.]
Hm.
[Mmmm. What to do... He can't leave that statement go even if he's the last person qualified to fill the void in anyone's soul, but—]
Maybe you can be. While there's life still in you, there's the opportunity to experience joys you've never known before.
I can't offer you much... but I can show you all the things that make me feel alive.
[Odd and few as those things are, they're mundane enough that Nishi can promise him this.]
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[His own eyes are almost closed - not that he's in any danger of drifting off. He wants to stay awake for this. Perhaps there is some small part of him that is truly, honestly greedy for little things like this that don't matter in the long run.]
[He smiles again.]
[Another offering, perhaps. It pleases him. Makes him feel warm.]
I will take...whatever you have to offer. [And a little noise, a rumbling pleasant sigh.] One of such things would be referring to what we did before, hm?
[Not offended one bit. With how light he asks it, perhaps he's teasing.]
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