bludshot

[bludshot]

cornered

mirabhasa​:

Feeling Red’s firm grip on his thigh makes Rohwi tense up immediately, but he forces himself to relax right after. It hurts, but in a way he knows will feel good soon enough. “Please, I fuckin’ hate yoga.” Too little movement, too much time spent on a session. And Rohwi’s never been very flexible. “And you do, too, don’t even start. I guess maybe I should start stretching more. But, I mean – you’re useful for this, too.”

The question’s turned around on him, and Red moves his way through a shrug that Rohwi likely feels instead of sees. “Birthdays were never really a household thing for me, it’d probably just feel awkward.” It’s not like he has a guestlist to invite, and they can sit down with drinks and get properly sloshed any day they don’t have a job scheduled in. “I wouldn’t say no to a sheet cake, though.” he laughs around that, or an approximation of one, quiet and lost in the fabric of Rohwi’s shirt. “True, same day even. We can buy cheap beer and eat cake. And it can be your job to make sure I don’t make myself sick. Happy birthday.” he teases that out through a piano-tap of a motion down Rohwi’s thigh before squeezing harder, working in at the muscle.

“If you don’t want to, then you don’t want to. I can tape myself up plenty well.” This is Red’s assumption, given that he has been working with Rohwi near as soon as he got out of that lab. But there’ve been times when he was out alone and needed to figure things out before he got back to the ship without Rohwi nearby. He knows that’s not exactly what Rohwi means, but he figures he should say it anyway. It’s not like he’d mind it, he doesn’t think so anyway. 

“If you don’t want me bleeding at all we need a bigger payout, get us some better bulletproof vests. Heard there’s some new ones, you can get up to five times before they turn useless.” The problem has less to do with the vests and more to due with Red knowing he’ll heal regardless, which then makes the vests a waste of money. But he says it for Rohwi’s benefit anyway, and Rohwi can always use them besides. 

He listens his way through recollections that manage to sound foggy as they drift out. Red’s always been a little envious of that memory problem, but then, they seem to differ in possible memories to look back on. He’d trade him if he could, and maybe it’d even look altruistic. Maybe Rohwi would think him human, or something parallel to kind. “Well, if you were pissed it’s probably nice to only remember the rock tower part of it. Be worse if you got left with the bad instead.” he wonders, sometimes, if there’s any rhyme or reason to the gaps in Rohwi’s memory. Any pointed meaning behind it, or if he just got slammed wrong one day and tried walking off a concussion.

The fingers through his hair are nice, were nice, and Red finds his head rolling in against Rohwi’s shoulder in a silent request for him to keep it up. “Just because I’d have been a slightly different version, it doesn’t mean it’d be any good.” Red’s not looking for Rohwi to convince him out of it, but he can’t draw himself a picture where he’d have been all that great of a role model. Protective, sure. Doing his best? Yeah. Good though - it just never seemed in the cards. Not with his parents, not on his planet. “Probably not. I used to be a little less scary before, though.” back when he didn’t have chemical alterations, and he really was just as scrawny as he looked. Not that he was a pushover. But he’d been different. He can feel it now, if he sits still long enough to let himself remember.

He moves his fingers again, grinds the heel of his hand in against Rohwi’s thigh and ignores the way he stiffens, it’ll help in the end, they both know it. “What about silks, like in that floating circus we went to on, ah, fuck. What was it? Veon?” Red’s fairly confident Rohwi would rather get punched in the face than learn how to do whatever gravity defying yoga made that work, but that’s entirely the reason he’d said it. “I don’t need yoga, I’m not the one with a dead leg.” He presses down hard on a particularly tense knot as he reminds him of this, grinning all the while, even if Rohwi can’t see it. “Learn to do the splits, it’ll be sexy.” That he laughs at, remembers to be quiet only a beat later.

#thread / cornered

[bludshot]

cornered

mirabhasa​:

“i don’t remember. probably not. they were just rocks, y’know?” he shrugs, easy, lets red shift before he grabs for his neck again. it’s helping, he thinks, the distraction. and it’s good for rohwi, too: he can’t feel his leg complaining as much when they’re like this. “it’s easier when you have to pull yourself together for others. when it’s just you taking care of yourself, it’s difficult to keep on track. if there’s people you feel responsible for, there’s a reason to get up.” red would probably know this, too, because rohwi feels similarly now that they’re partners more so than co-workers. “you think you can work my leg again?” despite the hurt, that had felt good, and it’s something tangible for red to do.

Red hums at the comment, a noise trapped up in the back of his throat, something to sweep the rest of that conversation behind them. That quiet ascent that they both want to keep the other in their lives. Only, Red’s not equipped to talk about that outside the realm of comparing himself to an inanimate object, and so that’s what’ll have to do. The knowledge is nice to keep, though. “D’you want me to know when your birthday is?” he asks. Rohwi doesn’t always seem like the type, but that doesn’t mean he actually isn’t. It’s not like Red would be put out by the idea of buying a sheet cake and whatever knickknack caught his eye at a refuel station’s mart. Not a great gift, but it’s just the thought that counts, all that. Red knows his limitations.

“Sure, sure. I said I’d stay put.” for a while at least. Red’s not so sure he’s willing to keep himself locked in a cleaning supply closet for more than an hour or so just on account of a few mercs. Maybe if there were a couple more of them. “Is it just ‘cause you don’t want to help tape me back together when we get on the ship again?” he asks him next, and he does mean that literally. “I promise I’ll stand in the door so I don’t drip blood into the kitchen.” he laughs at that, even if most of his time spend pulling his skin back together has been in the vicinity of the kitchen sink. It’s roomier than their cramped bathroom, easier to rearrange his limbs into places he needs them to be as he navigates through his homemade patch jobs. 

A quiet distraction comes next. He can’t hear Rohwi’s heartbeat through that thick vest, but he can imagine it. And then there’s Rohwi breathing on top of it, the steady sort of rhythm people are meant to match their breathing too when they’re all wound up. Red’s not all that far gone, but he tries it anyway, even if just to try and pull himself back from the cusp of a potential adrenaline rush. 

“I guess. But kids can decide stupid shit’s important just for the sake of it.” Throw him back in time and if Red had a pile of rocks he’d deemed important he’d likely be liable to jab someone in the nose over it. He supposes on the scale of personal responsibility him and Rohwi didn’t ever match up perfectly. “Hmm, I get it. Can’t imagine anyone would’ve been for the better though if I were meant to be looking after them back when I was that young.” He means it as a compliment for Rohwi over compliment fishing for himself. If Rohwi were to try and chase that sentiment away, Red would probably laugh at him for it. But he thinks Rohwi gets that already, that’s why he’d allowed himself to say it. 

Now and it’s a little different, but it also doesn’t match up perfectly. Red’s content in watching Rohwi’s back, but it’s not like Rohwi’s entirely dependent on him. If Red went and got himself caught up in trouble that kept him contained he’d know that Rohwi was fully capable in picking up and moving on and taking care of himself. The thought’s comforting in a way that he doesn’t think Rohwi would be able to apply to his situation, or at least would’ve been able to in the past. Red doesn’t answer him, but he wedges his shoulder forward enough that he can get a good grip on Rohwi’s thigh, digs his thumb in against tight muscle as he slowly starts to work at loosening it again. “Maybe you should start doing yoga. Flexible muscles and all that.” he laughs to himself as he says it, small and nearly lost in his ministrations. 

#thread / cornered

[bludshot]

cornered

mirabhasa​:

it takes a moment for rohwi to try and think of something, catch the last wispy remains of a memory that’s already gone. “i think i’ve talked about this before- i used to go down to the docks as a kid. to find somewhere to work, mostly, but i also just liked the sea.” sitting in a rickety boat, and the long times of wait; rohwi hadn’t minded that monotony. “i liked collecting stones, the smooth ones the tide would bring in. we’d build towers with those at home. it was hell trying to keep my siblings occupied, but we all got really good at balancing oddly-shaped objects. and then one day my sister had a tantrum and chucked them all back in the water, so that was that.”

“Oh, is that it? I’ll buy you a portable heater for your birthday then.” Red jokes it out, nudges at Rohwi’s ribs as he talks before he goes back to his label-reading and general fidgeting. He can’t figure out yet whether having a purpose aside from being a particularly good bounty hunter makes him relieved or uncomfortable. It should probably land on neutral, maybe, and so Red leaves it at the joke. Doesn’t even pretend he’ll revisit it all later and try to figure himself out. It’s easier to just not, everything’s too rearranged at this point  — that’s been his go to excuse for the small moments with Rohwi he has sometimes that stir up something more than just a friendly co-working atmosphere.

“I mean, you’re mostly alright at engineering and all Rohwi, but I think if anyone wanted to kidnap someone and bring them to their evil engineering lair they’re probably go for one of those certified geniuses working in a military facility.” it’s meant to be a comfort, even if it is spliced up with humor, the same sort Rohwi had been prodding at him with earlier. He snorts, rakes a hand back through his hair. It’s windswept and tangled but he yanked his fingers through anyway. “Well fine then, I could prove it now you know.” but he takes heed of Rowhi’s request despite himself and doesn’t pull himself up from the floor to inch his way out and investigate. 

Red ends up tapping his fingers against the side of his boot in a waste of frenetic energy instead, starts himself talking because he needs something to occupy his mind with if he’s meant to sit still and wait nice. It could be that Rohwi realizes that, and Red’s first instinct at the unexpected touch is to stiffen, shoulders hunched up in a bristle. Anyone else grabbing at the vulnerable skin of his nape and Red would probably palm their nose up through their skull. But it’s Rohwi, so he relaxes into the gooseflesh that shivers down his shoulders and lets himself slump forward. Forced into a calm like a horse with blinders strapped on, vision narrowed in on black canvas and how Rohwi’s voice fits in closer. 

He listens and tries to smooth out some of that bunched up energy. “Were you pissed?” he asks him, more curious than probing. Red shifts, not enough to pull himself away entirely, but to stretch at Rohwi’s grip enough that he balances his temple on his shoulder instead of hovering near his chest. “Siblings sound rough anyways, I’ve always had a hard enough time taking care of just myself.” the way he says it isn’t disparaging, it just takes on that awkward end Red finds when he clumsily tries to match conversations with anecdotes of his own. 

#thread / cornered

[bludshot]

cornered

mirabhasa​:

he grabs at red’s hand when it’s close enough, tugs on it to get the man to fold into him. if red wants to keep moving, he can do situps on the ground like a normal person. “well, i could tell you about how i smuggled a bunch of pudding through this incredible interesting, thousand year old tunnel system, which really is an architectural marvel….”, but there he trails off, because he knows that isn’t what red is asking for: they don’t need to talk shop when they’re living it. the trouble is, though, that rohwi barely remembers anything that might’ve shaped his trajectory in life. what he was doing before he turned legal, or around that age anyway, or how he ended up in a dingy little apartment with three younger kids and monthly checks coming in, until those had dried up. still, rohwi tells a lot of stories, and he can probably dredge up something if red asks nice. “what kind of story do you want, hmm? narrow it down a bit.”

“Am I not? Why’re you keeping me around then?” he asks him back, and it catches a laugh on the way out, small enough to fade into the quiet left behind. The whole room smells like cleaner, a subtle permeation that sticks to the air. It reminds him of a hospital, of a lab. Overly sterile and boxed in. It makes Red’s skin crawl if he stops and focuses in on it for too long, and so he lets himself jump through topics instead. Purpose, and then repurpose. “Why not? I bet someone could make a real nice xylophone out of my rib cage.” He shrugs, glances around again like he might’ve missed something the first three times, but he hadn’t. “Like where?”

He swings his eyes back to the door, but despite at the rearranging his body’s been put through, he can’t see through walls. “You trying to imply that I don’t so my job well?” he asks him back, it’s good natured enough, halfway to teasing, and mostly just an attempt to elongate the talking. Rohwi’s the type, he knows, content in the quiet. Red isn’t usually, and especially not right now. He’s starting to wonder if the easier option’s just to push his way out and hope for the best. It’s astonishing how often that plan usually works out for him anyway, so maybe he’ll just be lucky today too.

His attention’s pulled back from his roughshod, unspoken plan when he feels Rohwi. Let’s his hand spin in other’s grip before he follows along with that pressure and leans himself sideways and further away from that door. He lets himself settle, his shoulder crushed up against Rohwi’s until he can feel the warmth seeping past lightweight fabric. It grounds him. Makes him feel less like a rat waiting for a scientist's injection. 

“You know I don’t care about that.” Red drops his head back against the unfinished stone of the wall. He shuts his eyes and listens to his own blood pounding between his ears. There’s nothing else aside from Rohwi’s breathing. Maybe they really would be fine if they crept out nice and slow and quiet. “I don’t know.” he starts and breathes in, fights the urge to open his eyes and peer around for a fifth time, in case there really is something new now. “Sometimes I think, ah we should get closer just like that. No reason.” This time he does crack his eyes open, and it’s to afford Rohwi a smile, it makes it look like they’re both in on some kind of a secret. “But then, I guess I’d rather share anecdotes about architecture than talk about myself too, so that’s fair.” Red winds his fingers together, bows them out to pop at the joints.

“Talk about the architecture if you want. It’s too fucking quiet.” Red concedes, hands falling back into a heap against his lap. “Or I guess I could go out, try to scout out if anyone’s around. I mean, I can’t hear anything. Can you?”

#thread / cornered

[bludshot]

cornered

mirabhasa​:

while red eats he grabs for the bottle, turns it in his hands to read the warning labels just for something to do. none of it is new information, but it’s not like there’s anything more pressing. the sticker peels off easy when he pulls off his glove and gets his thumbnail beneath it, but there’s sticky residue left on the bottle. “i’m sure you are.” or else red will be; the massage has helped, but rohwi isn’t good as new even so. “but i won’t be the one with a big target on my chest.” and it’s really lucky that their voices won’t carry past this room, what with red’s request. rohwi raises an unimpressed eyebrow, tone dry. “what, you want to hear about intergalactic wars? how they managed to dig the tunnel system on that star in vulpecula?”

“Can I ever really be halfway dead?” Red’s not too sure himself. He knows it used to be possible before they caught him right at the end, a rope wrapped around his middle to yank him up by like a bungee jumping leap of faith. Spine-snapped into something other, and that’s the part he’s not so sure about now. “I came back alright for it. What, were you worried I’d keel over for real that time?” Red nudges him, idle ribbing, like an inside joke. “It’s not so bad, if this building weren’t so annoyingly shaped we might even be out by now.” It has a severe lack of windows, and they still haven’t stolen what they’d wandered in for. Maze-like and sprawling out with the same uniform grey-cement walls. It’s easy to get mixed up in the middle of it, and hard to blow your way a path through it when you’re looking for something in particular. 

“Good.” He watches for a moment as Rohwi checks on the taser before he gets bored with it and sorts through the supplies they’re left with. He continues rummaging through bottles as he talks, doesn’t bother looking over his shoulder back to Rohwi. “The mechanic’s always more important than the machine, if you really sit and think about it. Nicer for a while until eventually a better model’s thought up. First gen left rusting in a scrap factory. Figure they’ll retool my bones into something nice once they figure out how to make more predictable super soldiers?” he tries to see if there’s anything interesting behind the shelf itself, but it’s just more grey. “Anyway, mechanics don’t end up in scrap factories, do they?” he smiles like it’s a joke, even if it doesn’t feel like one.

He nabs a spray bottle on the way down with him at Rohwi’s suggestion. Eats first, three bites through the cereal bar and it’s gone. It tastes like chocolate-flavored chalk, but it’s better than nothing and it’ll help him heal his way through bumps and bruises. Next thing and he’s dragging a bucket closer, used for mop water once most likely, though he stalls himself in the middle of twisting at that spray cap. Alone and he’d upend the contents in the bucket, replace it with bleach. But he’s not alone, he’s here with Rohwi and his fragile lungs. “I’ll do it right before we leave.” he decides instead, tucks away his finds into the bucket and slides it nearer to the door.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a good fight anyway, you’re too good at steering us away from trouble before we get stuck in it.” there’s still that part of Red that seeks out a fight. Not for the pride of it, or the money if he drags a good bounty home. It’s the gore of it, blood and pain and a howling that rings familiar in his ears. He doesn’t share things like that with Rohwi though, those are the parts that make him feel less human. 

“No, I don’t give a fuck about Vulpacula and their tunnel system, not unless I’m meant to smuggle something out through them.” he reaches out a hand to swat at Rohwi, whatever body part he finds first. “I meant about you, dumbass.” He knows Rohwi, knows him in the way that he knows his hand. Knows the wobbly lines that skate his palm, or when the fingers will flex, what they’ll grab for. But he doesn’t know the deep of him, the layer past the skin. His history, self, whatever name he’d like to put to it. It’s not like Red’s been particularly forthcoming either, but Rohwi knows about the scientists at the very least. The experiment. And being a hypocrite doesn’t sate at curiosity, anyway.

#thread / cornered

[bludshot]

cornered

mirabhasa​:

rohwi has to shift to get to the pocket in question, but he manages to unearth two high-calorie cereal bars afterwards, one of those bags of highly nutritious astronaut food they only ever eat in a pinch. “no water though.” but red needs food more than that: he burns through it too quickly. rohwi drops it in his lap. “until night at least.” the daylight cycle is long on this planet, so there’s some time. it’ll be easier to get out when nobody can see them all that well. “or the moment you think you’re starting to feel worse. can’t run any risks.”

The hiss sounds like a gas cannister cracked open between them, a slow leak of pain, almost like he’s sapping it right out of Rohwi’s body. That’s a nice thought, would be a wonder if it could be made true. As far as he knows, even the mad-mutant scientists haven’t figured out how to construct anything that useful yet. The words are as stiff as Rohwi’s muscle where’s it’s tensed and twisted. He doesn’t answer him back, but he sinks his fingers in a little deeper to try and get it to stop spasming so tight. It’s not ripped yet, that muscle, and Red doesn’t want it to. That’ll take a damn long time to heal over.

Eventually it’ll start to give, sink down from imitation of stone to let Rohwi relax. Red tips his head to the side as he grinds the circle of bone near the knuckle of his thumb into Rohwi’s leg, tries to hear for any sounds scattered in the quiet. He comes up empty, aside from the air-leak still coming out slow from between Rohwi’s front teeth. “Well, I was plenty fine on AS079.” he snorts it out, and it can’t technically be a lie if he could still aim a gun and shoot on their way back to the ship. That tends to be the sliding scale of which Red judges his okay-ness by, whether or not he can still fight. Whether or not he’s in a state to be picked up and tossed in a shallow grave. Whether or not it’ll be easy to climb back out of it afterwards when they think he’s good and dead. Properly, and with the finality that all living things should know. 

Finally Rohwi’s leg shivers and stretches, muscles smoothed out enough to move away from that constant cramp. Red moves with him, only it’s to accept Rohwi’s gun. Checks how much ammo’s left before he lays it flat against his legs. “Keep your knives close, I’ve got one of my own here.” he taps at the heel of his boot, and there’s the blunted hilt of one peeking out over the edge. He’d like Rohwi to have something on him, in case someone came close enough to try and grab him. Usually it’s more profitable to take captors if you’re searching for bounties, if you're not yet sure of who they are. Not everyone comes with the tagline of dead or alive. Mostly they want the wanted with a spirit still knocking around inside their body and willing to talk. 

He picks himself up to poke around the closet, slings the gun over his shoulder by the strap to keep it in place. Bottles of electric blue window cleaner (eh), some rat poison (too slow, they’re not planning a dinner party), cubes of dehydrated soap (maybe they should steal some of that), and then bleach. That’s the most useful, and he hefts a jug off the shelf to check how much is left in the bottle. “If we find something to pour it into, something like water balloons, we can aim it at their eyes.” Red is, as always, ever pragmatic.

He crouches down and takes the bottle with him, sets it near his heels so he can accept the food. Peels down the wrapper from a bar with his teeth and takes an overlarge bite, his manners would settle familiar in a pack of wild dogs over that of a dinner table. “I might be in a better state than you.” it’s hard to tell, but Red’s gotten pretty good at compartmentalizing his pain. “Since we’ve got so much time, maybe you should tell me a story.” Red doesn’t shift out from his crouch, but he does settle his arms across his knees. His position’s caught in the middle of relaxed and ready, balanced on the flats of his feet like he’s just waiting for someone to rattle at the door and force their way inside. “I prefer non-fiction.” his smile, when it comes, is full of too many teeth. 

#thread / cornered

[bludshot]

cornered

mirabhasa​:

red has his freaky metabolism going for him, and usually the adrenaline masks any pain, too. because there’s no point in not doing it, and sharing warmth seems like a good idea in case they’re stuck for a while, rohwi picks his way over, crouches down and sits at red’s side. “you?” and, because it’s good practice to check, “how much ammo do you have left?”.

“If they’re not after us I bet they’ll get tired of looking soon enough, at least, if they don’t find us.” Red talks it out low and husky, and his laugh sounds more like a breath of air than anything real. But he’s doing his best to stay low at the moment. 

Pick a different day, a time when he was alone, and maybe he’d straighten himself out and walk into the chaos as easy as anything. But he’s not alone, and so that somehow makes things different. Could invite upon them enough people where maybe it matters that someone slips past Red. So he rests his weight back against metal instead, tries to figure out how long they should wait around for.

“Yeah? Massage it while we wait around then.” the kinds of things that Red doesn’t both with for himself, but that he’s learned to take into consideration when it comes to Rohwi. He even drops his hand down to feel around for the muscle himself first, pressing fingers in to try and read the tension, if it’ll be fine to run out on when they find a chance. “Should be okay,” he concludes, though Red’s judgements don’t always fall on the right side of correct.

“You know me, I’m always fine.” he points a smile sidelong at Rohwi as he says it. It’s one of those statements that’s technically true, but if you really pull it out and examine it, that’s when you see that it’s full of holes and bullshit. Red’s figured out though that believing in the surface meaning is easier for everyone, has never found much trouble with anyone poking around to find out differently.

“A bit low on that front. But I’ve got...” he pats down along his body, like he might’ve forgotten what he’d grabbed on the way out that morning. “A knife, a pistol. two grenades. And I bet there’s some gasoline somewhere on this fuckin’ place if it comes to that.” he cranes his neck around as he says it, like it might materialize out of nowhere. It doesn’t, to nobody’s surprise.

“You got any food?” Rohwi’s the one thinking ahead on things like that, usually not Red. Not unless he knows going in that whatever job he’s working is going to be taking long. He shifts position, sits flat on the ground and stretches out a leg. His body’s sore, but it’s likely already knitting things back up. “How long should we wait before I just...” he waves a hand between them, “like...tank.” by that he means walk in the middle of things and clean up as best he can. It tends to be the last resort go-to. He might end up a mess, but he’s alive by the end of it. 

#thread / cornered

[bludshot]

cornered

Red & Rohwi, cut off from their ship, planet Silia.

"This was supposed to be easy.” It was, a nearly unmanned bunker-turned-trading station and a stream of some goods that Rohwi had been sure they could flip for a good price. But then it wasn’t, because that’s how these things go. It looks all clear and nice and then, suddenly, there’s the barrel of an over-large gun shoved right up against your nose and a man screaming about coming along nicely before they blow out your brains. Red’s a firm believer in never going along nicely, however, and so everything turned on its head and became not at all easy.

The thing about it though is that Red doesn’t sound angry, and he isn’t. If anything he looks bored; the room where they’d managed to cram themselves into via crawlspace entry is bland and seemingly used for storage. 

“You think they’re security or mercs?”

Security means they’ll eventually get bored of their searching, alert their superior, and go home to bed. Mercenaries, well, depends how much someone hired them for, how much they hate Red and Rohwi both combined. Then and maybe they’d need the mercs to think they jumped the planet on a hijacked ship or come up with a better plan than a camp out. For the moment though, it’s sufficient. 

“You’re fine, right?” he hadn’t heard any gasps or grunts of pain on their way back, and for the most part Red’s not losing a whole lot of blood either. He sighs, lets his back hit the wall and slides down to sit. The floors all roughshod cement that hasn’t been sanded over. There’s a mess of boxes around him, but it smells so strongly of cleaning supplies that Red doesn’t even bother to poke around and investigate. 

“Tired?” he asks because there’s not much to do. He also asks because he’s not, and he hopes Rohwi’s not either. Stretches out his leg and feels the stiff creak of his knee as the joint flexes. 

#thread / cornered #ft / rohwi

[bludshot]

white noise.

mirabhasa​:

“sure, we do. but it’s not a business transaction or something. not for me.” not anymore, at least, because it had been, and then he’d truly started caring. rohwi stares at red over the rim of his mug, drinks about half of it, lets red drag him back into a less dangerous posture. “you should sleep too.” probably red won’t, too keyed up. but there’s always a chance, and rohwi doesn’t mind curling up together.

“That hurts, you know. Real deep.” his face doesn’t show it at the moment, distractions and anxiety pressing worry lines deep into his expression, but he’s joking. It’s easy though, because Rohwi knows him well enough by now to know there’s really no way it’d affect him on that level. Just an attempt to normalize his mood, to get back on track where he believes everything feels right again. “I’m uniquely charming,” his voice holds that same tired drag, but Red’s trying. It’s not like he wants to leave himself here, lost in this strange mood. Heels stuck on his own unknowing, trying to keep him from moving on. 

“It’s not like that, I don’t think. I can’t rediscover who I was. I know who I was, I was a dumbass kid. But I was human, and now I’m not. You can’t walk that back through self healing.” Red doesn’t want pity, he’s already expressed that, and he still doesn’t. But he also doesn’t want Rohwi thinking he’s chasing after some meditative bullshit in hopes of changing himself either. “If you want to do it for you, we can. We can go see if anything sparks a memory. But for me...that kid died.” it’s a saying, he knows it’s a saying. It doesn’t sound unnatural in the context, but it’s heavier than Rohwi might realize. There are some truths Red’s never parted with.

“I was a fuckin’ thief. My dream was to make enough money so that I didn’t have to live in a shithole.” a less important truth, and he doesn’t really care if Rohwi knows it. It’s not like the way Red presents himself makes it seems like he was born into wealth or class. “And I’m doing that now, so. Guess I won.” it’s not sarcastic, or self deprecating. It just sits, still as a stone and technically factual. The kind of weighted thing thrown to end a conversation on purpose. 

There’s a drop of energy between them anyway, Red can all but feel it. Whatever remaining adrenaline there was left sucked out from between them. He’s tired, in the way where thinking’s annoying and he might get that frenzied tap of a brief headache against his skull. Finds himself pulling Rohwi’s chair flat before he drops his ankle, stands with his mug to rinse out the dregs of chocolate mix in the sink. 

“So what’re we to you?” Red finds himself asking as he crosses his way back, tucks his hand briefly under Rohwi’s jaw, uses the hold to tip his head back enough that he can meet his gaze. He doesn’t wait for the answer though, based on the assumed answer of friendship, or else knowing he’s too tired for any sort of conversation that forces him to carry more emotions into it. Instead he lets his hand slide away, walks further into their ship and crawls into his bed to sleep. 

#thread / white noise

[bludshot]

white noise.

mirabhasa​:

red tightens his grip on rohwi’s ankle, enough that rohwi feels secure in it, and so he shifts his balance in his chair to tip it back on its hind legs, lets his free leg dangle. it’s a show of trust that’s fairly deliberate, because he’s certain that red won’t let go with the risk of rohwi toppling back. “we can put a pin on it. get back to this another day.”

“Maybe you can just figure everything out all over again, if something enrages you out of the blue.” Red doesn’t know how the whole thing works, but there’s got to be something hard wired into your system. What you like, what you don’t like. He thinks, maybe, Rohwi should be able to rediscover them if they existed in the first place, if it all worked like forgetting anyway. But that’s the mystery to it, and Red’s far from able to understand the basics of it. He’s good with weapons, not so much with minds and their inner workings. “I can try to annoy you if you want. I’ll brainstorm up a list of fuckin’ infuriating things I could do.” it’s a joke, though he’s not sure if he says it more for himself or for Rohwi. Whose mood needs to be lightened at the moment? Maybe the both of them.

“I know that. But I knew that person. Sometimes I think I’d like to be him again.” not in a complicated way, of being spirited back to his youth or being without Rohwi. But in a way where he felt a little more human. Where bruises stayed pressed into skin for days on end, no dreams coated in a sticky layer of blood, no waking nightmares jerking him awake in the image of a scalpel. Just a shitty childhood and making ends meet. It wasn’t nice, but it was simpler. “I know that I can’t, you don’t have to say it.” he adds on, because he doesn’t want to make it seem like he’s grasping at straws. The words are mostly empty, purposeless. Do they feel like clutter, in this moment? It’s hard to read situations like this, but for the moment Rohwi doesn’t look annoyed or bored.

“People aren’t always shaped into nice things.” but Rohwi already knows that, and he doesn’t have to look into his eyes to find that out. But he does it anyway. “I’m not saying people can’t care about things that aren’t nice.” Red presses his lips together in thought, but it’s hard for him to figure out what he even wants Rohwi to understand, is tired on top of it and finds himself shrugging his way into a dead end.

“I think I’m just worried I’ll feel unfulfilled until I die or don’t die.” he’s not entirely sure, and he doesn’t spend a lot of time thinking about topics like these. He doesn’t have examples to draw from. “Not like, oh I’m unfulfilled I didn’t achieve my dream or go on enough vacations. I just...all I do is fight...and I don’t mind it. I need it. But it’s not fulfillment, right? It hasn’t made me...abjectly happy.” Red cuts himself off again and rolls his head back to stare up at the ceiling of their ship. He doesn’t like when emotions that aren’t anger spike high in his body. They’re so much harder for him to process his way through.

“Well. We help each other, right? There’s a purpose there.” but that doesn’t really feel like that’s all there is to it anymore. But he also doesn’t know what it even is. How Rohwi thinks of the two of them - in same terms, or different? He keeps his fingers curled tight enough that Rohwi won’t fall, though eventually gives him a little yank back so that his chair will drop back down to all four legs. “Sure. You should sleep.” He pulls his hand away to pick up the mug, takes a few large sips to try and drain the contents.

#thread / white noise

[bludshot]

white noise.

mirabhasa​:

the chocolate’s still too hot when he takes a sip, but he needs that moment to think. nudges his toes into red’s stomach, even though he’s really pushing it now. “if you’re useless to them, that’s a win. and i can tell you you’re plenty use to me. if you’re gonna get hung up over something, that’s not the kinda subject worth picking.” but he gets it. feels the same way, sometimes, for entirely different reasons. “i can start a file, maybe. so we can make an informed decision, once you think you can.”

Red knows the basics, that something happened to Rohwi. Not that there seems to be much detail to it, not details that Rohwi can remember to share, anyway. Red tries to bend his mind into being sympathetic, but it’s hard. His mind immediately jumps to that there might’ve been a good reason for Rowhi want to scrub his head clean. It’s hard because Red would like to do the same. He has enough sense left in him despite how hard-shaken he’s been left that he hasn’t gone and said any of it out loud. He understands that he should be sympathetic, and so he does his best to present things that way.

“Yeah. Was just curious if there were some things I didn’t know.” It’s such a common emotion for Red and such a rare one for Rohwi he was wondering, just a bit, if there were circumstances he was keeping to himself that would make it grow into something fit for rage. But then perhaps - he learns as he continues on in the world - those ugly sorts of emotions shouldn’t be felt so frequently and to such extremes. And he’s left trying to recall- “sometimes I try to sit and think and...figure out...if I’ve always been like this. I know I had an attitude when I was a kid. But was it always like this, this bad, this angry, this consuming? Or did they fuck up something in my head too. Did they accidentally rewire some wavelength when they were rearranging my insides.” Red presses his lips together, stares down at the contents of his mug. He can just barely make out his reflection in the muddied surface.

He taps his thumb against the jut of Rohwi’s bone. Something to keep his mind grounded instead of floating out into the ether. “Maybe you won’t pity me. But...” and this part is strange to say out loud, and so he stops mid-sentence without meaning to. Words shouldn't feel weighty, they usually don’t to Red, they don’t leave a copper-tinged burn on the tip of his tongue. He could stop and swallow it back down, could stretch and pull himself into the bedroom, tickle at Rowhi’s heel until he pulls his leg back and frees him. He could do all of that, but it wouldn’t be any easier than sitting here and talking, would it? It wouldn’t feel easier on his stomach. 

So he says it, but it comes out as a question, “you care about me?” he doesn't mean it to, but it does. There’s some layer of disbelief there, despite the easy rhythm they’ve fallen into, the fact that Rowhi doesn't get upset at his outbursts. Someone had likened him to a guard dog once, at a shady planet in a shadier bar. Guard dogs have a purpose, and you care about that purpose. Do you care about the snarling mess underneath? “And when you care about people, it changes things right? From just factual and into emotional.” Red can say that, because somewhere along the way looking out for Rohwi and making sure he took the brunt of the brutality aimed his way changed from a work-habit into concern that churns in his gut when Rowhi gets himself into a tight spot. 

“So I don’t know. Is that me being worried about pity or something else?” he wrangles fingers through damp hair, and if it were any longer he’d have likely left knots in his wake. “I’m not good at this stuff. At thinking stuff. Feeling stuff. Feeling anything other that fucking...fucking destructive. I’m good at what they made me good at.” he taps one blunted nail against the ceramic of the cup. “And I can’t even figure out if I’m happy about that or if I hate it. And if I’m happy about it shouldn’t I just be happy about everything they did to me too?” he wants, suddenly, to pick up the mug and wing it hard at the wall. He doesn’t, but he does stop talking about it, a muttered out “it’s disgusting.” to signal that he’s finished. That he doesn’t really trust himself to continue that dive into his head. 

His hand follows Rohwi’s foot up when he nudges toes into his stomach. Red curls his fingers around his ankle entirely, folds them around the tendon of his heel in a gesture that shouldn’t really read as fond but comes across that way still. “Not useless like that.” he says, a little quieter than he’d been talking all evening. He doesn’t elaborate, but he does start to feel his shoulders untense. The mug, for the moment, is safe. “Maybe.”

#thread / white noise

[bludshot]

white noise.

mirabhasa​:

the drink is too hot between his palms, so he sets it down on the table in front of him. glances through the window to make sure they’re still on the right course; the navigation system can be tricky when he doesn’t have enough time to program it properly. “we can hunt them down if you want. do it pro bono. or put out a hit if you want hands-off.”

“But?” Red prods softly, pulls up one leg just so that he can settle the weight of his head against it. Pillows his cheek against bone and watches Rohwi past sleepy eyes as he moves with a purpose around their small corner of a kitchen. “Any kind of overwhelmed?” Red can sort of get it; he’s made a home out of chaos these past few years, but there’s always that loss of control when everything’s happening at once, when he’s not sure where exactly to point his attention, if he’s making the right choice. Red’s willing to throw himself into that abyss of a moment, uncaring if he hits the ground wrong. But it’s not like that for Rohwi — understandably. It’s not like that for most people.

Red hooks his pinky into the handle of the mug and pulls it in closer, nearly sloshes some of the liquid out over the top, but he’s slow enough going that the waves settle before the breach the rim. “I live my life in a threat analysis.” a joke, a bit of a sad one, but not the sort of thing Red really picks up on. There’s a gentle pressure on his thigh, and it’s grounding in the same way that Rohwi’s hand had been on him earlier. Settles his free hand over his ankle, wrapped up as it is in the fabric of his sweatshirt. If he were in a better mood, he’d quip out that he wasn’t Rohwi’s foot rest (even if he likely wouldn’t remove his foot), as it is, he lets the moment settle.

“I don’t know if I’ll feel better talking, is the thing.”

He says it, and it feels like it hangs in the air. Clutters their already small space. Red finds himself frowning, buries the emotion behind the edge of his mug as he picks it up and takes a sip. It burns down his throat, and he can’t figure out if he takes that as a comfort or not. He’s never really pried his jaw apart and laid out his experiences, mostly because he’d wanted to power wash them away. He’s tried it as best he could, under a wash of blood and violence. A smear of red to blur out the past. Only it doesn’t stain as well as he’d hoped. 

“I don’t...want anyone to feel bad for me. Or, you know. Where it’s all pitying. I don’t want that. From you or from anyone.” maybe he wouldn’t get it, with all that Red’s done since then it’s likely deserved in a backlog kind of an way (and is that the reason he did it in the first place? But Red doesn’t busy himself with thoughts like that). “And then, even if you knew would I feel better? Or would I just feel...” he sets the mugs back down, unfurls his fingers before re-clenching them in a fist. “Weak? I hate feeling weak.” not that Rohwi doesn’t know that. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I want to do about them. When I saw that picture, I wanted to kill him. I thought about it, you know. And then, sometimes. I want them all dead. But I don’t want to see them. And I also don’t want to give anyone else the satisfaction of doing it. So I don’t know what any of that means, obviously. I guess I just haven’t decided.” Red unclenches his hand again, lifts it to bite off a hang nail. 

“It feels dumb.” and then and admittance, “sometimes I think I’m useless.”

#thread / white noise

[bludshot]

white noise.

mirabhasa​:

red sinks down in the chair, and rohwi busies himself dissolving milk and chocolate powder in the water he’s boiled. it’s not the same without the real stuff, but it tastes similar enough, and they can probably both use some comfort and calories that don’t require effort to take in. “you wanna talk about it? or shelve that for later?” red will know that rohwi truly doesn’t care either way, else he’d mention something.

Red’s too tired to need to relax, but the assurance that Rohwi isn’t biting his tongue about having to ditch the planet so fast is nice to know. Helps wash away some of the anxiety rolling around in his now-tired brain. One less thing to worry about on the pile, and what’s left he’ll figure out how to work out of his system tomorrow, or whenever they find a new planet to land down on. Red’s not sure if it’s mean to be turned into a conversation, anger, but it’s a nicer distraction that staring down at canned pineapple, and cluttered words are better company than silence.

“What’s it take to piss you off, then?” Red’s genuinely curious, not because he wants to do it, or wants to lord that information over him, but Rohwi always seems to even keel to him that he does want to know what it is that can twist Rohwi up in some kind of rage, even if he acts it out differently than Red does. “Sounds like a better reaction, maybe you should teach me sometime.” Red muses, even if he knows that not how emotional outlets really work - not for him so far anyway. But it likely would've been best for everyone if he was the type to stalk away from that sign tight lipped and hide away in his bed until he remembered what being calm was like. 

The chair’s nicer to settle his weight on, slouches in place and sticks his hands into the front pouch of his sweatshirt as they talk. Rohwi starts moving around the kitchen again, making something else, and Red watches him behind lidded eyes. A mix between lazy and a learned sort of observant. The chocolate’s easy to smell anyway, so it’s not much of a secret even if he can’t fully see how Rohwi’s going about things. He does draw his lower lip into his mouth at the question, pauses in thought before letting it slide back out slow.

“I dunno. I mean, all of it isn’t really anything that you need to worry about.” he means it in the sense that it’s his problem, and that he can hoard his own problems up and deal with them himself. There’s a confusing piece to things where it feel unnatural to unravel his story. To expect someone to understand it, or want to hear it. The ending of who he’s become, and how they should be judged between what’s happened then and who he is as a person. “I just. Hate them.” Rohwi might not know a lot of the details, but he at least knows the general shape of things, that they were scientists lacking a moral compass and Red was very clearly an experiment. 

“I don’t even know what I’d talk about.” he admits, head sagging forward, and he brushes a hand back through damp hair.

#thread / white noise

[bludshot]

white noise.

mirabhasa​:

still, he takes another piece with fingers that are still covered in juice, rinsing them under the tap once he’s popped it into his mouth. “in all the time we’ve known each other, what has given you the impression that i wouldn’t tell you if i was pissed? we need to re-adjust constantly. i’m not gonna get upset over not getting to check out a shop that sells eyeballs as a food group.”

“I know it was trash, and we’re probably fine. I’m just saying. I can clean up my mess.” he finds himself defending it, that statement. Not out of anger, or because he’s upset with Rohwi’s assurances, but as some have realized sense of responsibility. He’s destructive, and he knows that. Sometimes those messes follow him, make a mess of Red too in the process, as he fixes it in the same way it all started. Sometimes he wonders if eventually someone will figure out how to solve him in the same way. What it’ll all take. If it’ll feel any different this time around.

He swallows down a piece of fruit like a distraction before turning the action back around on Rohwi. “Maybe, or just super preserved.” it’s hard to tell, and Red is no connoisseur of cuisine. The can’s still more than half full by the time Rohwi’s rinsing off his hand, and so Red nudges it deeper onto the counter, away from a threat of a spill. 

“I don’t know, I can’t remember a time you were all that pissed.” his head tips to the side as he says it, nearly contemplative. “Have you been? Real pissed? Maybe it’s just my definitions are skewed.” for Red, pissed often comes packaged with a murderous rage and he can’t recall feeling that way towards Rohwi before. Annoyed, maybe, when he made him sit out too long before taking another job. But not pissed. In fairness, his emotions and feelings are probably warped along with the rest of him.

“What do you even do when you’re pissed?” Red finds himself asking, because they both know what he does, the sign lost and broken on that planet is reflective of that. But he’s no so sure he can see Rohwi wearing that loss of control the same way that Red does. 

He wants to sit, and he momentarily considers letting himself sag into a crouch on the floor. But he figures Rowhi might make a noise at him if he does, so he takes a few paces toward their fold out table, nudges a chair out with a foot and drops into it, his body easing into a practiced slouch. If his spine weren’t so well-maintained it might be angry at him. 

#thread / white noise

[bludshot]

white noise.

mirabhasa​:

“i know. don’t worry, we’ve got options.” he does want to talk about this, what had set red off, specifically, but he doesn’t want to do it now. not when the pain’s still so raw. “look? pineapple. i think. wanna do the honours of trying?”

Red feels strange, and a little static. It’s a static he can recognize though, it’s not the first time something’s happened to Red, just the first time in front of Rohwi. Mostly he feels the whole thing was unnecessary, wishes he could rewind back that reel and have staved it off for time spent alone. It isn’t like it’s Rohwi burden to bear; who he is, what he’s gone through, or his inability to just deal with it in a way that holds finality. 

Red drifts toward Rohwi, bumps against him like a buoy to the bough of a ship. He doesn’t expect Rohwi to bear his weight, reach back toward him, but he feels like letting himself settle. Rohwi has that way about him, where Red can feel grounded for a moment. Pull his resolve back around himself. 

It’s nice though, when Rohwi does reach back. Takes a moment to let Rohwi shoulder some of his body weight. Just for a bit. Until he gets his bearings back to him. “There has to be a planet somewhere after the jump we took. I’ll get us something.” he wants to feel useful again, wants to build back what had felt like a mistake, or still feels like one. It’s hard for Red to come to terms with whatever it is, the hollow way he sits after, a desire to swallow down mouthfuls of cement until he feels real and solid again.

He rolls back a shoulder and leans his forearms against the counter to watch as Rohwi peels the metal of the tin back. Not peaches, but something fruity, can smell the syrup-preserved tang of sugar to it. “If they ended up seeing me, I’ll fix it.” he adds on, though maybe they got lucky. It’s hard to tell, but the planet hadn’t seemed impossibly high tech overall. It could’ve happened in a worse place. Somewhere with facial recognition scanning, or a robot drone that screamed at him the moment that it happened. 

Red briefly considers a fork before deciding that he just took a shower and is probably fine, plucks out a piece and chews on it thoughtfully before he licks the juice off his thumb. “Pineapple, or something real similar.” Picks up another and and snaps his teeth twice like a demonstration for what Rohwi should do, tosses the second piece into his mouth when he finally takes the hint and does it. “It’s good, have more.” Red tells him, settles one hand against Rohwi’s bicep, considering and distracted as he glances toward one of the windows. 

“If you really were pissed you’d just tell me, right? You wouldn’t do some dumbass thing like not just to spare my feelings?”

#thread / white noise

[bludshot]

white noise.

mirabhasa​:

“no, but i could. hungry?” he’s not talking about the peaches, if they actually are peaches, but something a little more filling. still, rohwi gets on his tiptoes to reach for one of the cans, ducks down to find the opener that’s meant to have its own place in one of the drawers but always gets displaced.

It’s hard to deal with things properly, in a way that will fix. He’s not so sure there is a way by now, maybe whenever it is that his body collapses on him, resources used up too fast, maybe then. For now and there’s the anger and the destruction, and he feels lost when there’s nothing around for him to lash out at. Tries to ground himself through force of will and burying everything down as deep as he can. Pulls himself together enough for a shower and clothes that smell clean, where he can pick out the scent of detergent Rohwi had poured in with their last load of laundry. It has a way of calming at frazzled nerves that he can’t really explain, it has for a while now.

Rohwi himself has that sort of quality about him too, maybe it’s the even keel way he keeps himself, softens the erratic way Red feels like he’s jumping around in his body. He shakes his head once at the questions. “Not really, was just curious.” he’ll likely be hungry whenever he wakes up again, his body shaking that taffy-pull of lethargy clinging to him. 

He pads in a little closer, the floor of the ship cool against bare feet. Knocks his head down to rest it against Rohwi’s shoulder, grabs loose at his elbow to keep him from actually twisting it open. “We can save it for later, I just felt like I should say something pointless. It was so quiet.” he does it often, but it’s at least for a different reason this time, less to do with boredom and more to displace assumed awkwardness.

“I’m sorry I ruined grocery shopping. If we find a new planet I can run out and get stuff while you chill.” he doesn’t bother to move himself upright, mostly because it’s easier like this when they’re not face to face. He knows that Rohwi won’t judge him, but it also doesn’t mean that Red wants to be looked at while he apologizes over his lack of control. Something that he’s all but turned into a career and weaponized, something that shows itself as a weakness if you know him for long enough. 

The thought of being a liability, something that might outweigh whatever monetary gains he brings in enough for Rohwi to consider leaving sometimes shakes itself awake in the back of his head. “I was just angry.” nearly lost in the cotton of Rohwi’s shirt, and he’s not even sure if that was the right word to use. but it’s the one he picked. Lets out a long exhale before his hand slides from Rohwi’s joint and he picks himself back up. 

“If you’re hungry though you should eat.” he tucks his hands into the front pouch of his hoodie, turns to lean against the edge of the counter. 

#thread / white noise

[bludshot]

white noise.

mirabhasa​:

there’s a sound from the main room, the kind of muffled scream rohwi’s familiar with because he’d yelled like that, too, when he’d felt like he was left to his own devices, forced to take on a responsibility too great to bear. and the thing is – despite the way they act around each other – there’s times when you need to be on your own for a moment, make peace with yourself in solitude. so he leaves the door to the cockpit propped open as a silent invitation just in case red wants to come in, drops down into the pilot seat and searches beneath the console for the book he’d left the night before. reads a few pages, gets restless, forces himself to wait a bit longer before he reaches for the bag of groceries and gets up to at least get those squared away. if red wants privacy, that’s fine; if he doesn’t, the touch to the top of his head when he passes on his way through says more than words could.

It’s a flash of a moment that feels too long and too slow all at once. A moment that wants to pull apart his mind into anger and chaos. Wants to lash out, to hurt. And that hurt is a nebulous thing that hangs above him. He wants to hurt. He wants to break, wants to break anything and everything and also those men. Wants himself to hurt in the same way the inside of his body does, because it feels imbalanced and wrong in a way that can’t just properly fix himself. And he hates that too, that craving, because they’d been the ones who did that in the first place. And he hadn’t wanted it, and he still doesn’t want it. An addiction knit between his veins and unavoidable. 

It’s quiet between them in a way that Red’s too preoccupied to really notice. They get back on the ship though, and eventually he feels that smooth shift of redistributed weight that means Rohwi’s undocked it and sent them back into space. He doesn’t know where, but also doesn’t really care. Just crouches himself down and focuses on re-bottling his emotions. The safest route, because their ship doesn’t deserve to be dismantled in a fit of rage, and their belongings would be annoying to replace. Swallowing it down and trying to scrape the splatter of the moment off his skull to store back somewhere deep in his chest is likely better for everyone. 

He knows he yells because his throat feels hoarse for all of two minutes before his body works on smoothing the raw swell of it out again. Knows he digs his nails into his scalp, but he also knows any evidence that isn’t hidden by wild hair will be swept away soon enough. Good as new by the time he gets over it. Isn’t present enough, yet, to feel stupid for the breakdown in front of Rohwi. He knows he’s there, knows he’s driving the ship along. Knows he’s skirting around when he hears his footsteps and feels the soft weight of his hand through his hair. 

It’s longer than he’d have liked, by the time he unfolds himself like a ruined paper doll string, all bent and worried on flimsy feeling legs. The desire the break something hasn’t gone away, but he’s not a hair-trigger away from really doing it. There’s that tiredness though, clinging to his body, what happens when all that anxiety and stress finally drain away. An unwillingness to show his face to Rohwi — who he knows won’t berate or shame him, but that doesn’t ease those tight feelings of vulnerability he feels anyway. So he drags himself into the shower instead. Twists the tap cold enough that it feels like a distraction, and his teeth chatter as he scrubs soap off his body. 

It helps, a bit, to the point where he wanders back out to find Rohwi after pulling on new clothes instead of climbing right back into bed. “Did you check if they were peaches?” Red asks him, because that’s easier. A boy willing willing to stop a bullet with his body, but that’s not nearly as difficult, as weighty a thing. 

#thread / white noise