maskormenacelogs | semi-closed;

Entry tags:

semi-closed;

WHO: Ken + castmates/housemates and CR; planned threads
WHERE: Nonah#005, De Chima#001, and various places as needed
WHEN: May 19th to perhaps the 24th
WHAT: the aftermath of this and reconnecting with friends
WARNINGS: like last time, talks of death and suicide and shit

i: Nonah #005; (the prompt is for the 19th, but other days work too)
On the 18th, he left with a note on the refrigerator that he was sleeping over at a friend's with Koromaru and wouldn't be home that day. That, he thought, might keep his housemates from worrying when he didn't show up that night. But Ken ends up home anyway, much later into the night, with a certain blue-haired man in tow, and he curls into bed and falls asleep almost immediately then. When he wakes up, it's past noon and he has a headache but he's feeling oddly refreshed.

There are things he lied to his housemates about. There are things he wants to ask them, and clear up. He doesn't feel like putting on clothes so he just throws his jacket on over his pajamas and steps out of his room. It's a weekday, so he doesn't know who's going to be home, but he has plenty of time. Whenever he comes across someone who's at the house, he shuffles over to them, hesitating just once before mumbling: "Can I sit with you?"

ii: De Chima #001
After the talks at Nonah have been had, De Chima is his next stop. He isn't sure how far the news had spread, if it had at all, but he's sure he'll find out once he's there. It's daunting, but it's hardy the scariest thing he's dealt with at this point... right?

Lies. Facing his friends is the scariest part. Scarier than running off alone with a knife in his pocket and no idea where to go. He's absolutely terrified of confronting them, even if there's a voice in his head whispering that it really wouldn't be a confrontation. It doesn't help the nervous twisting in his gut, though, so he clutches the straps on his backpack as he enters the house.

And the nervousness is overwhelming. He can hardly handle it. It's to the point that the moment he runs into anybody at De Chima #001 and they so much as greet him, he jumps and lowers his head and immediately blurts out a hurried, "I'm sorry!" ... Sorry about that.

iii: a text message
And maybe you're not at either of those houses when he is and Ken still wants to see you, or he feels like going somewhere that's not the houses to talk with you. In such a case, there will be a text from Ken to you, short and to the point. He'd make it more specific, maybe explain more, but he ended up getting nervous and sending it off quickly so the actual message ends up saying nothing more than:

Can we meet up somewhere?

((ooc; I'll likely also make this a catch-all for Ken stuff during June, so if you'd like to do something with him, whether it's about the above stuff of anything else, feel free to shoot me a message at

squigstuff!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

This must be how this man deals with the people of this house. This house full of such troubled, troublesome people who're just full of problems. Autopilot, diverting the question to one about food, sidestepping the bear trap and all that. He watches as he moves around the kitchen, answering simply, "Milk if you have any."

He wonders if that's something he prefers. That distance and uninvolvement.

"... Hey, can I ask something?"

He goes to get the milk from the fridge, waving a hand idly; one of the viruses that Koromaru had designated as playmates swoops neatly past. There's a clinking noise - Ken can see it picking a glass up unsteadily and hovering over. The glass is quickly taken before it can drop.

He looks briefly surprised when he comes back in just in time to hear Ken's question; he sets the glass down within easy reach before he answers.

"Certainly. Ask away."

Edited 2015-05-28 04:39 (UTC)

Koromaru is here today, too, but today he isn't going to go around chasing the viruses. He stays dutifully by Ken's side, tail wrapped gently around his ankle and his furry body pressed up against Ken's leg. And Ken stands outside of the kitchen and watches, thanking him as he takes the glass that's set down nearby.

"You don't... have to answer if you don't want to," he starts, sitting down at a couch. He draws up his feet, a tiny ball of a child among the large cushions. "Have you ever had somebody save your life before?"

He hums a little as he considers the question; he sits, too, when Ken does, but he seats himself on the floor rather than the couch itself. Not too close, but he's paying attention.

"I think so," he says, the words a little slower than usual, choosing what to say. "Not in the sense that you mean it as a human being, I think. But I was given a purpose and a sense of belonging, when I lacked it before."

At the answer, he falls quiet. In a way, Magicman's response resonates with him more than if he had said that he life had been saved, literally. A purpose, and a sense of belonging...

He takes a sip of his drink.

"Do you still have that? That purpose?"

"I suppose so." It's kind of a non-answer, really, and it would be if he just left it at that. There's silence, but he still looks thoughtful; he's deciding what to say again. Loading a response.

"Back home? I do. I'm content. Here...it's a little more difficult to say. I think so - or at least people have accepted me enough, that it feels similar."

He shrugs. "There's no completely replacing some things...it would feel wrong. But all of this...this is all right. It would be worse, being alone." He says it casually, but it's a small sign of what he's been avoiding that he admits it in the first place, to anyone.

Edited 2015-05-28 06:02 (UTC)

Magicman's words continue to resonate. Ken thinks about it, about the people here who accepted him, people who knew about his past and his relationship with Shinjiro and yet acted toward him with kindness, calling him a friend and offering their support. They could never replace what he had lost -- there was nobody like his mother, and he wouldn't even try to find something else for her -- but they were definitely, without a doubt, more than he had left after her death. He was aware of what he had here; it was a matter of whether he deserved it or not.

Even now, he still has his doubts. He picks at pieces of lint stuck on his socks.

"... I like it here," he admits, finally, after a stretch of silence. "I like the people I met here, in this house and in Nonah. But what if -- what if I'm not supposed to?"

Another pause as he thinks of an appropriate response. Words are a little difficult for him; he has to think about them in advance.

Some of the words that come out are things he's thought about in depth already.

"People are strange," he admits, shifting to prop an elbow on his knee, leaning so he can rest his head on his hand. "Even if we know we should do one thing, what we want can often be something that's completely different.

I'm not sure what you mean, by 'I'm not supposed to'." He doesn't want to make an assumption (and truth be told he's starting to feel like this situation is eerily familiar to him). "But I think...even if you're not certain, other people will come to you anyway. That's always the part of connection you can't control...there are people who will want to be with you."

A pause, and then:

"Despite everything."

Despite everything. He doesn't understand why. Maybe it's a coincidence. But Magicman's words continue to cut through to him with a deadly sort of accuracy, hitting the doubts that rise up in him before they could even take form. He closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath, letting it out, just as shakily.

Things will not go the way you planned it. Or the way you wanted it. People will love you even if you don't deserve it, just as easily as they will leave you when you don't want to part. Despite everything.

He looks away. "I can't help but think some people here will feel much better if I didn't hang around."

Despite everything, you're not alone.

Everyone is connected. If there's one thing he's learned in his life, it's that. And as much as it's something he flusters and fumbles with, doesn't know what to do with and almost rejects by turns, he's grateful, in the end.

"The only thing that will happen is the people who care about you will worry, even if you aren't there. Especially if you aren't there."

People hurt. Connections hurt. But he's alive to witness it, so it can't be all bad.

"They'll want to connect with you anyway, even if it hurts. Everyone is linked, and when that happens..." He shrugs. "The pain of one will affect others that are close to them, but at the same time, sharing it makes something so heavy easier to bear." Shared grief, shared sadness - humans share, as social beings. Navis share data among themselves, transferring information to one another as they connect. Even a heavy burden can be lifted that way. "You're not alone. That's something to hold onto."

He opens his mouth to argue, then closes it. He opens it again, this time just to comment, but he can't find the words and he closes it once more. There's silence, as he realizes that the only he can really do to this is agree. The connections between people and the way they affect one another, the consequences of one's action -- they're all the stuff that he thought most about and felt the strongest about. He's learned the lesson of consequences over and over in his life. He knew this. Slowly, shakily, he takes a breath.

"Everyone says it's okay. That they'll help. It still feels wrong, but... do you think it's okay? To accept that?"

"Do you want to? That's up to you."

He looks at Ken, finally, with a kind of blank curiosity. Awaiting further data input, with no judgement; it might be reassuring, in a way, or just creepy.

"They want to help you, and they're reaching out to you. Personally, I think someone with such reassuring friends is lucky to have them.

I suppose it's fine, to think 'I don't deserve it'. I can't say anything about that one."

There's the flash of something like a smile, strange and distant, like he's bringing forth a memory.

"I'd be a hypocrite, if I criticised you for that. But I suppose the answer to your question - would be yes. In time, you grow to accept what people give you. And if what they want to give you is love and support, then I think that's all right."

Beyond the silence where the whirling of Nemesis' wheel used to be, there's been a growing ticking. It's erratic, not quite like a clock's, but somehow, in this moment, he thinks he hears something fall into place and there's a rhythm to the noise for a short while. It feels like something clears up, although what rises into that space is confusion and curiosity.

That's up to you.

His eyes widen, and his question is simple and short: "It's that easy?"

"Yes." His answer is short and simple in return.

"People will reach out to you. It's your choice to connect to them...it always has been."

He sighs a little, shifts his position; relaxing a little more. He straightens his posture.

"There are some things nobody can decide for you...you have to decide those things for yourself. Take hold of what you really want. Don't always go with 'it would be better for other people' or 'I should do this because of others'."

He's selfish, at his core - he'll do what he wants. Saving, ignoring, destroying or causing chaos - as long as it's his choice, or up to the choices of others who he willingly places his trust in, he's content.

"It's up to you. In the end, these things...reaching back to people, telling them you want to be helped. Ignoring them, if you want. That's all your choice."

Ken thinks that he's selfish. Then he overcompensates for it, making decisions based on, like Magicman said, what he thinks would be for other people's sakes to the point that it came full circle and got selfish again; this time, he had a lot of reminders that all the thoughts he had about things being better about him were just that: thoughts. He doesn't know which is right, and that was why he had gone to that doctor. His friends took him home after that, and now they were telling him the opposite. And here, now, it's his own choice again.

"I want to be with these people," is his answer, soft and hesitant but earnest. Through all this, that much had always been true. "I don't know if that's right. If it's okay... But I can't know. I don't want to regret anymore."

"Then be with them. They want to be with you, too. That's worth holding onto." His answer is very simple - it might almost be patronising, if his tone wasn't actually kind of earnest, or what passes for earnest with him. 'Passionate' might be the better word, but even then...it's barely a difference.

"If that's what you want, fight to keep it. Resist anyone who tries to take that away from you. No matter what." He's lived by that philosophy himself, hasn't he? He has things and people he wants to protect, and he'll hold onto them as tightly as he can.

"Don't worry too much, about what's right or what's okay...though maybe I shouldn't be telling you that?" He sounds a little amused. "Try not to look back too much. Past regrets can only carry you so far." And he knows that well.

"Past regrets..."

That's right, isn't it? Shinjiro's death may be recent, but Ken knows that his real regret goes much further back than that. Gosh, it's really been two years, he thinks. Two years since his mother died, and he lost his house and his family and everything else that came with it. And he's regretted it, ever since. Not being able to protect her. Not saying all the words that came flooding to the surface after she was gone that he wished he'd told her. Always, always too late. And he almost made it too late here, too.

"No matter what... How far would you go?"

Something like a smile flickers across his face at the question. It's strange, not quite happy or sad. He's obviously considering it deeply.

Regret and guilt are - well, they cut deep when they affect him. All or nothing, again. But most of it just washes away; he lets it flood over him and pass. It's easier.

"I would do a lot to hold onto the people I want to be with. Anything or anyone that gets in my way will regret it." He leaves the answer deliberately ambiguous, but holding some weight; he's not going to tell Ken that he'd happily throw away his own life or badly injure himself in the process. Ken is not yet fully grown, and he'd rather not influence him that way. His callousness about his own life (and, to be honest, about the lives of many others he doesn't know) stems from...other places.

"That's an interesting thing to ask. How far would you go? You don't have to answer, if that's your wish."

The answer sends a chill down Ken's spine, but he appreciates the honesty. He nods along, accepting Magicman's answer as nothing but his own, and telling himself that it doesn't mean that one of them is right or wrong. It's just what they would do. It's just who they are. He wraps his fingers tightly around the cup in his hands.

"I've always been the one that gets protected. My mom... I wanted to protect her, but she ended up saving me." And Shinjiro, too. And everyone else here did so much to protect him. From others. From himself? "I don't... I don't know. But I don't think I will place my own life over anybody else's, if I had to make the choice."

Action is, after all, his best trait. It's easier to strike first and prevent potential problems from flaring out than to let it fester into something more. He doesn't tend to think of things in 'right' or 'wrong', though he knows he should and tries to make the effort; but he processes things differently, in the end.

What he chooses to take is ultimately up to him. He notices that the answer seems to have shaken Ken somewhat, but he doesn't call attention to it.

"You'll learn what's best - for you. Often, you'll need protection or you'll get it from others without prompting, as you grow...and that's how things turn out." All you can do is accept what comes, is his thinking. He had been forced to, really. All you can do is live.

"Life has a way of pulling you along, doesn't it? People are unpredictable like that." He shakes his head. "But that's what makes them themselves. And every experience with a person changes you.

Isolating yourself won't do you any good, I suppose is what I'm getting at here, in a roundabout way." He knows he's rambling.

"... I don't get it."

Or rather, he's still reluctant to admit to it. He's close. He gets what Magicman is saying, but being able to wrap his head around it is different from being able to accept it. It's not that he disagrees, but -- well, he doesn't think any of his friends will judge him for not going 'oh, I see' and accepting all these things immediately. He shakes his head.

"I knew that everything has a consequence. What I did affected others -- Aragaki-san, Sanada-san, everyone else in SEES. But it affects people, too, if I did things to myself."

"That's what happens when there's connection." He's not sure how to make the words come out the way he wants them to; it's difficult to describe what he's trying to get across, and he's not even sure he understands it fully, himself.

He smiles, another strange little flicker. "But that's how it works. You can always go off by yourself, like I said. But that only makes it so that you'll be lonely. It doesn't stop others from caring, even if it's something that only affects you. Nobody's really alone, unless you take steps to stop people from caring about you. And that's not something I'd recommend."

"Didn't really have to try."

He shrugs. Take steps to stop people from caring? He thinks about his 'family.' Aside from his mother, nobody cared that he existed. He was a nuisance the moment she died and he was thrust into their hands, and even now, he received a blank New Year's post card each year with no attached message. The implied message there was clear.

"... Well, not until now. It really sucks."

It's sad to say that he understands the implications of Ken's words easily, and it drops firmly back into familiar territory. He knows what it's like to be unwanted, even if the situations aren't the same (he hopes they're not the same, because wow his situation sucked).

"Ah." That's all he says about that.

"It must be strange, having people care about you, after a period of time without it. At least -- it was for me. Adjusting was...difficult."

"Haha. It was-- um, do you mind? If I tell you more?"

That's kind of stupid to ask considering how much he's already blabbered away at him, but, well, he wants to ask, this time. Maybe not about the suicide. Maybe not about the murder. But if it's about his upbringing...

semi-closed;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)