a fixing things post

Entry tags:

a fixing things post

WHO: Brendan, Manabu
WHERE: Heropa
WHEN: 7/30, late afternoon
WHAT: gotta sew up some stuff
WARNINGS: ??? sad

["be over in a bit" becomes a very loose statement, if not a straight-up lie. part of it is negligence, and another part is fog.

he doesn't know it properly himself, but when Manabu grieves, it rolls in like fog and hangs invisibly around him until he moves too far or does too much. it's manageable melancholy most of the time: a lingering mood that numbs feeling and slows reaction and thought. he can mechanically go through motions without much question this way; it gets him to pound out a barrage of texts to various people, each response met with a dim feeling of relief and a thickening of the fog. getting too deep into self-reflective thoughts makes it worse, and he does his best to evade it by redirecting his energy elsewhere.

he rapidly runs out of elsewheres in the house, and by the time he's halfheartedly agreed to leave and go see Brendan, all he has left is one.

his jacket-- the uniform. he'd already scrubbed it clean of blood and dirt and smoke best he could, but the bullet holes were still there. a tear on the sleeve from skidding on concrete. that wouldn't do. wear and tear from proper duty is fine and good, but he can't let this piece of clothing get ratty and ragged; it's from home.

so, thread. "a little bit" becomes a lie because he numbly leaves the house, jacket in hand, to find thread. it takes a while, and somewhere in the search he finds himself staring dumbly at spools for almost five minutes before someone startles him out of his trance. he realizes how much time's passed with a growing feeling of guilt and dread, rushing to buy what he needs-- and a cream soda, as penance --and quickly moving to get himself to the teleporter.

jerk, he thinks to himself, finally spotting the house along the street. at least this road doesn't look nearly as gunked-up with drifted trash and mud as the area closer to the beach. he ought to be doing something to help about this at some point.

but first, honor a promise unspoken. after catching his breath, he knocks, his head already bowed, half in apology, half for that air.]

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[Brendan opens the door and his first instinct is to make a snarky remark. That dies on his lips when he sees how tired Manabu looks. Right now is just not the time. So instead he pulls him into a quick hug. He's new to this whole comforting thing, but he's getting better at it, bit by bit.]

Hey. You okay?

I'm sorry, I didn--hh-- [his apology gets cut off by the hug, which he hadn't anticipated. the beat of surprise is followed up by a pulse of genuine relief -- something he hasn't felt in a bit. texts and calls are all well and fine, but physically knowing someone's still around still tops them both.

the plastic bag looped around his wrist rustles noisily as he moves his arm to at least partly exchange the hug; the other still clings his jacket to his chest.] H-hi. I'm-- [he withdraws, trying to push a smile on, but it's not a great look. he laughs a little to compensate.] I'm having a rough day, is all! Sorry...

[Yep, he's physically here. He still has little to no clue how to make this better, but at least Brendan can be present, since others can't. He watches Manabu's face and the forced expressions make him want to sigh.] Hey. It's alright. Having a rough week would be justified, under the circumstances.

Come in; I've got snacks and you look like you need the sugar as a pick-me-up. [It's not much, but it was all Brendan could think up on short notice. He opens the door wider to usher Manabu in, wondering when their roles switched and he became the caretaker in this friendship.]

[Manabu wonders much the same; he's older, he shouldn't be imposing like this. he feels a hot wave of shame in thinking that, even as he steps in. it does make him pause for a moment too long at the door after it's closed, staring down at his shoes blankly before snapping out of it and shimmying them off his feet.

mechanically, out of old habit:] Excuse my intrusion...

[he walks into the living room area and sets the bag down on the coffee table.] I found that drink you brought last time. The cream one?

S'alright, [he reassures him, wondering if there's something he should be doing. It's hard to comfort someone about something like this, when everyone leaving is such a foreign concept to Brendan and something he's never had to deal with before.

He smiles briefly. Typical Sunset, thoughtful even when things were going downhill for him.] Thanks. You're a doll, Sunset. [He'd normally make a snarkier remark, but right now, Manabu doesn't look like he can take it. He sits down on the couch and pats the area next to him. Priority one is making sure Manabu is alright, or as alright as can be expected, given the situation.]

Oh, it's--only fair, right? [he exchanges the smile, sitting down as instructed. his gaze drops to the jacket in his lap, which he smooths out and realigns the collar.] That is, you do an awful lot for me as it is. I ought to do the same. Otherwise, I'd...be a pretty poor friend, huh?

[despite the little laugh, he grimaces. saying things like that'll only make him second- and third-guess other things, which he knows is just a loop of nonsense and a big waste of time. he quickly pipes up again before it can get to that.] Aa, you said you had a needle? For fixing things, I mean. May I borrow it?

Yeah, I've got a sewing kit. Hold on a sec, dollface. [He darts out of the room to go get it, and is back quickly, looking from it to Manabu's jacket. Moments like these, it feels like Manabu is the younger one, sort of, oddly vulnerable and easy to read. Softly, he says,] I don't mind fixing that up for you if you want. An' you don't owe me sodas or anything. I just... I just want you to be okay, alright? That's all.

Oh-- [he looks up, eyes wincing.] I'm, I'm going to be okay. Please don't worry! I only, ah... [slowing down, eyes on the kit.] I just...got taken by surprise, is all. Things...caught up with me. And friends left, unexpected...unexpectedly. It's kind of a, a one-two, ha...

It's a little rough. [his smile twitches.] And I'm-- honestly, a little frustrated...ha. For what good that does.

Quit it with the fake smile, Sunset. It's okay not to be okay with everything that's going on, y'know. [He sets the kit down on the table, sighing. Manabu and Brendan have opposite problems - Brendan needs to learn how to be less negative, Manabu needs to figure out it's alright not to be super positive about everything in the history of the world.

With a second, exasperated sigh, he plops down on the couch and pulls Manabu into a hug. Physical contact seems comforting enough when he's on the receiving end, so maybe it'll work for Manabu. Fuck if he knows, he's basically hitting all the buttons he can and seeing what works, here.] You're allowed to be frustrated with life being a clusterfuck. It's okay. Just let it out, or whatever.

[He is terrible at this. But he's trying as best he can.]

[he resists the pull around his neck just out of impulse, wanting to double-down on assurances that he can bounce back no problem, but doing so only does the opposite of what he wants. Manabu gets stuck partway, sitting up straight as if to get up, his hand at Brendan's arm to peel it off, but stays stuck in place for a beat too long.]

I--ah. [his voice gets thick. he swallows.] I just...didn't. Help enough. I'm really--[he starts to sag, sinking back. his hand peels off Brendan's arm and rises to cover his eyes. the rest is said through gritted teeth:] I'm really frustrated, Brendan!

Sometimes it's not about one person not doing enough, [Brendan says, frowning but not pulling away. If anything this reaction is good because it means Manabu is snapping out of his daze a little bit, which is at least something. He sighs, shaking his head.] I've spent enough time grilling myself over 'what if I had fill-in-the-blank' to tell you it doesn't help.

It's bullshit and I know it. I - I don't know what to say except if you need to hit the couch - or me, fuck it - I get it. This isn't how things should be. 'm sorry this is how it turned out, Sunset. I really am.

[while Brendan talks, Manabu's fingers slowly curl and press knuckles into his eyes futilely to try and stop tears. the breath he's holding gets let out in a loud, exasperated sound at the very suggestion of having to hit his friend to feel better; he deflates, slumping heavily in the hold and letting his hand leave his face.

there's nobody to punch for this, not even himself. it's--well, Brendan said it. it's bullshit. too complicated and too messy to even start fixing on his own, no matter how stubbornly he wishes to. and--really, more apparently than ever, he knows he can't do much on his own. so Kaidan leaving...that's hard. there's not a lot of soldiers here anymore, and it makes it hard to forge ahead.

he'd kind of laughed when the red-haired girl at the convention asked him if he was pleased to be here. he'd said well, as long as I'm useful, it's fine.]

[Brendan wraps his arms around Manabu a little more steadily, wishing he couldn't feel how defeated Manabu was in this moment. He's always been a positive person, a ray of light Brendan accidentally ended up having in his life, and seeing him like this isn't easy. But he's here; he can at least be that, if nothing else, even if he's otherwise clueless.

There's nothing either of them can do that will bring anyone back. There isn't anything they can do so they can go back and get a do-over at everything that's happened. All Brendan can do is rub at Manabu's back in a vain attempt at being comforting and let him have a moment to collect his thoughts.]

[it takes a little time -- more than Manabu'd care to admit, but he's not able to stamp out those feelings...any feeling, really. he's as much a victim of his emotions as anyone else who puts up with him.

having someone close and present is a real comfort; for a little bit he can even let go of the guilt of hanging onto someone younger, who doesn't really need this kind of nonsense tossed in his lap. he can't escape that for long, though.]

Hh, jeez... [he shifts and pulls away, sniffing into his arm. he drags his hands over his face, letting out breath in a loud huff, chiding himself aloud:] Alright, alright...enough already...

Eh, fuck that whole 'man up' thing. Never did me any good, [Brendan shrugs, leaning back onto the couch, looking unshaken by Manabu's display of emotions.] Maybe if people let this shit out more often we'd've avoided a lot of mistakes, all of us. Besides, my housemates are gone. Nobody's gonna overhear you. Just... do what you gotta do to be okay, Sunset.

[He's tired of not being there for his friends and yet throwing his shit at them. This time, he's gonna be here for him. He's going to try to do this right, for at least one person. Brendan looks at Manabu thoughtfully.] You want me to get you something to eat? Comfort food, I mean. We all need it once in a while.

[muttering, smothered now and then by his efforts to clean up his face:] Even if you say that...mh. It's not--fun, being miserable like that. [so the less of it, the better. for everyone. he's sure of that.

he turns his head to peer past his fingers over at Brendan at the offer, his mouth twitching. he can already feel embarrassment creeping back up on him, being mothered like this.]

I'm okay for right now... [sitting up.] Really. Maybe in a bit. [because even a refusal of food is really just a temporary hold...

he glances down at the jacket in his lap, rumpled by the fidgeting he'd been doing, and sighs.] Maybe this, first... [get something back to normal.]

It's not about fun, it's about catharsis so you don't do something later to try an' fight off the pain that'll really wreck you. Y'know, like how I drank myself into unconsciousness for four days when what I really needed was to actually talk to someone. Everybody's got baggage, so everybody's gotta deal with it, eventually.

[He pats Manabu on the knee, reassuringly. He's made fun of Manabu more than once, but he never will for this sort of thing. There are some lines nobody should cross. Sitting up, he picks up the sewing kit and folds his legs, placing it in his lap.] I can fix that. It looks worse than it is, but going off the weight of the fabric it'll patch up fine. I've been doin' this for years, I know a lost cause when I see it, and this isn't it.

[As someone whose sole possession from home is a jacket, too, he understands how important this is, and doesn't disparage what it represents.] It's gonna be okay, Bubu, it really is.

[wincing:] Don't call me that, it sounds...weird... [weirder than 'bird' or 'sunset', and a helluva lot more condescending. he's not sure he can take that.

he turns the jacket over to where the bullet holes lie, pulling the collar up and out of the way.] You can't blame that one on San Clemente, I know for a fact... [because that's his name, and he doubts very much there's many Manabus where Brendan's from.]

Pft, fine. Spoil all my fun. [He does comply, though, shrugging as he runs his fingers over the holes to try to gauge how bad the damage is.] I feel like calling you by your full name is too formal. Makes it sound like I'm sucking up to you for some kind of favor or something later, an' 'm not. And I don't want you to think I am, either.

[He takes a few needles out of the sewing kit, looking at them and then at the fabric, before selecting one meant for use on thick fabric. Uniform jackets tended to be made of tougher stuff.] Much as I made it weird by hittin' on you, I am still your friend, Manabu. If the car crash didn't break this best-buds-forever vibe, nothin' will. You're stuck with me sewing up your clothes and making you eat a decent dinner from now on.

[he sounds a little perplexed.] But...my name is...my name... [that's what names are for. why call him something else when he's got one? he almost presses that, reminded of that 'sunset' name, too, but Brendan's already on the move with needles and such.

he reaches over toward the table to fish out the navy thread he'd found, sitting back and holding it out in waiting. he can feel his ears starting to burn a little at that talk.]

We...we are friends, Brendan...but you don't have to be my mom, too... [he huffs a little, embarrassed.] I, I appreciate it all the same.

And it's a good name. But the only time I call people by their full names is when I need something, when I'm in trouble or when I'm in love with them. None of that applies, here. [Well, that last one arguably does, just a little, but Manabu said no and no means the matter is settled.

He looks at Manabu seriously, peering over his glasses.] I've done this kinda thing for friends of mine all my life. It's not mommying you. There's nothing else I can do to help you out right now, Manabu. There really isn't, and it bugs me. So just lemme do this, okay? No thanks needed, 'cause you'd do the same for me, and I know that.

[This entire friendship is made up of oddly intense moments punctuated by studying, movie watching and acting like dorks. It's a friendship that has two modes, a 4 out of 10 or a 10. But he takes the thread from Manabu gently and gets to work with well-practiced motions, anyway. Because it's Manabu, and there's not a lot Brendan wouldn't do for him these days.]

[that's...fair. at least, for Manabu's sensibilities. mollified, he lets Brendan take charge of the task, drawing his arms to himself and folding them. he sits leaning forward so he can peer at what Brendan's doing. the deftness with which he works is actually pretty surprising -- he can't think of anyone he knows around their ages that he knows can sew. not that the topic's really ever come up, but...]

Huh. [it's an impressed sound, absentmindedly made while he spectates. only when he glances up from his hands to his face does he realize he's just been gawking like a dope and sits back, bashful.] Yo-you keep surprising me, you know. With all these skills and talents for things I don't expect. [fancy old literature, baking, sewing...detective...ing....]

Yeah, well, I had to learn a lot of things as I went along, growing up. [He keeps his gaze on his work, knowing how easy it is to screw this sort of thing up if he doesn't focus. And because this is important to Manabu, he's not going to let himself mess up.

He does, however, take a deep breath and explain, carefully, waiting for Manabu's reaction,] I've been talkin' to a psychologist here. Y'know, since I'm either doing something or miserable as a drowned ember and that sort of swinging back 'n forth isn't normal. I always kinda thought it was, 'cause my mom is the same way. Worse, actually. Except she could snap herself out of her downward swing... by hurting herself. It calmed her down. She tried not to let me see her do it too often but - anyway.

I learned a lot about gettin' bloodstains off of clothes. An' patching them up when they got torn, 'cause my dad would just scream at her if he saw anything messed up. So I pretty much can put anything back together except myself and my mom, I guess. I did the laundry, I patched up her clothes, I made breakfasts and dinners, and it wasn't enough to keep her around, let alone keep her head on right.

Here, though, I can actually help people. When I do stuff, it actually matters, an' people are really grateful, and... it means a lot, to finally feel like I'm making things better, you know?

[He's a fast worker, and he does sturdy work when he's focused - and God knows he didn't want to look at Manabu while talking about how much he screwed up his life - but he goes over everything visually twice before he nods to himself and holds the jacket out to Manabu.] There. This oughta hold. The fabric's the same weight as most of my mom's business jackets, this is well-known territory for me. [He says it casually enough, but he glances over at Manabu nervously, as if awaiting judgment of some kind, either for seeing a therapist or having a messed up family.] Thanks. For letting me do this, I mean.

[he already knew life at home wasn't easy for Brendan, from what had been slipped in talks before. nothing this detailed, though. it actually takes Manabu by surprise to hear about his mother harming herself, about the abuse. it makes his heart ache. kids should be able to trust their parents...husbands and wives should be able to take care of each other, too.

he can't even imagine what life would be like if his parents were different. he may have been more than a handful at times, but even at his worst, his mom was never cruel or neglectful. and...well. Wataru Yuuki had been always a dutiful, principled man, and that meant he spent a lot of time away from home, deployed out on the railway. but...Manabu admired him for it, even if he did find himself terribly lonely and aching for his father's approval. it's a big part of what spurred him into enlisting, though it's not why he stayed. even an oft-times absent dad who cares is better than one who screams at their family...]

Uoh-- [he startles, blinking back sudden tears. he'd phased out a little there, but the movement of the jacket being passed over to him snaps him back. he carefully accepts it, holding it more like a relic than piece of clothing. he quietly regards the little stitches snugly pulling those tears together, running his thumb across one of them.

he sniffs, then looks over at Brendan, smiling.] It looks great. Thank you... [with a little laugh in his breath:] I'm not sure what I'd do if you weren't here.

I don't what I'd do without you here, either. Sometimes... when I first got here, sometimes I wanted to do what my mom did. Everything felt like it was too much and I didn't fit in, in this place, but even when I just only sort of knew you, I had this feeling you'd've lost it if you saw me with my arms thrashed up like hers. So I made that my excuse not to.

That's probably why I got mixed up in my head and thought I wanted to make out with you. I still don't get how having one person around can help me keep my shit together. But anything like this you need, I'll do, 'cause you've done a lot for me, without even knowing.

[He hugs Manabu, a little bit more gingerly, this time, after the last reaction he got, and smiles weakly.] Thanks for helpin' me keep it together. If this is the kind of cop you'll be? You'll be a goddamn hero, Manabu. I know it's all fucked up at the moment, but I - I can help you get through it. I think. I'm gonna try, anyway. You did it for me, after all.

[Manabu makes up for what vigor Brendan's hug lacks in squeezing him tightly. the little ache in his chest eases to something much more bearable having heard Brendan's been fighting those bad impulses. he can say it's because he's here to help, but Manabu knows better. it's all on him to decide. just the way it'd been for Shaw to choose. for Bruce...

if him just being himself can help keep people here with him, he's got a pretty good reason to get up every morning. it doesn't always feel like enough, but right now it's a pretty comforting thing.

his voice is thick, but he's still smiling despite it.] I'm really glad you're doing better... Thanks for cheering me on. I'm really lucky.

[It's hard to admit to having those impulses. It makes him feel kind of defective, even though he's in therapy now, even though he didn't do it. But Manabu's not judging him, not as far as he can tell. Even after losing so many people, Manabu is still his kind, loving self, and Brendan can feel the tension leave his body as he relaxes into Manabu's embrace.]

I'm lucky to have you, too. Guess we're a good match, much as I never thought I'd be good for anybody. But we're good at that, that whole thing where we make each other feel better. I'm not sayin' we're flawless, but... we'll get through this shit, Manabu. We're gonna be okay.

[He's smiling too, and it's a little dorky, but he's okay with that, for once. Okay, so this is a thing. This is happening. It's a little new, but he can definitely get used to it.]

Yeah. For sure. [the comfort radiating between them eases the ache he's been carrying all week, thins out the fog. always there, certainly, but that's the cost of living a full life, caring for people.

it'll be alright. besides, he thinks delightedly, there's still ball games to see and old timey movies to watch. he wants to find other things, too-- things Brendan may like. for every sad moment, two better ones-- or more.

it's an encouraging wish.]

I think-- [he pulls away a little, grinning back at the doofy look on Brendan's face.] Ha-- I think I'm good for food now. I really can't say no, in the end.

[Brendan lets out a breath, not quite a sigh, just taking in the new moment. Okay, this is all new and strange and hard but - it's worth it. Friends are the family you choose, according to books he's read, and while his own family was nothing he could make stay or take care of, with Manabu, he can. And he wants to try. So into uncharted territory they go.]

Comfort food is traditionally mashed potatoes and something else. I've got some almond chicken left over, if you're good with that?

Mm, yup. [he nods, setting Brendan free. comfort food's a little different by definition to a guy who grew up in a noodle restaurant, but that won't turn him into a food snob any time soon.

besides, he's comforted, there's food...that turns it into comfort food by default, right? that's the kind of math Manabu's good at.

he sees to picking up what's still left out from the sewing, hesitating before shoving the spool he bought into the kit. at least here he'll know where to find it...and it'll probably be better-kept to boot.

he gets up, stretching and wincing against the little pop in one of his knees, and then unfurls his jacket, holding it out for one last inspection. he thinks about it a moment, then decides to slip it on-- just to see if it feels any different with those bits of cloth stitched tighter together.]

Eheh... [he's a little pleased; they're like badges of service, in a way? the way some of the Vega Platoon's uniforms looked...though, he remembers with a softer laugh, Louis and Bruce always scoffed at that. looking shoddy is unbecoming of an SDF officer, they'd argue. Vega would probably argue back that it shows character and experience...

Manabu thinks he can handle a healthy balance of both: maybe not look like a bum, but also show he's not as green as he looks. he nods to himself, adjusting one side's collar and letting out a satisfied sigh. yeah, he can live with this.]

[Brendan's good at food prep, and he likes having people to actually eat with, here. In any case, Manabu definitely needs the company. It hasn't been an easy time on either of them, so some comfort food and maybe some TV afterwards should do them some good. They need to have some down time where there's no drama and nothing Earth-shattering going on, after all. Even if they're fairly badass in a pinch, they're still people.

He has mashed potatoes and chicken on the table within minutes, and pulls out a Boston Cream pie he made out of boredom and to see if he could a few nights ago. Cutting into a whole pie is depressing when there's no one to share it with. With Manabu around, it's possible to look at the damn thing and not get mopey, which is good. Waste not, want not.]

Y'know, [Brendan says, looking over at him,] I have zero idea what food you're used to, but I could try 'n make some, some time. If you want.

Hahrm-? [Manabu blinks, looking up. he's already mid-chew at that point. that whole philosophy of mostly-clean uniform still stays true: he took it off to keep it from becoming collateral in whatever mess he might make shoveling food down. he never really knows how hungry he is until he starts, and this is no different.

it takes a minute for him to both mull the question and swallow the food so he can answer.]

Oh! Well...why don't I teach you next time, then? I mean, [spearing another piece of chicken and dunking it in potato] I'm not an amazing cook like my mom is, but I know the basics. Er, anyway, my one housemate says it's pretty good. [but he's not sure if Terry's a human vacuum like he is or not...

he starts trying to pull them to mind while he chews another mouthful.]

Mmh, udon, all different kinds of ramen...except tonkotsu. I'm not good at preparing the meat. If it's just-- [pantomiming the motion] chopping the vegetables and dunking them into the broth, I can handle that much, ha.

But it's all really good when it's done right! There's some places here that are pretty good... [not mom-good, but it'll do.]

Edited 2017-07-23 00:16 (UTC)

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a fixing things post

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