[Guzma's almost annoyed when the memory is shared with him—if only because the last couple times this has happened, it's kinda left him a little fucked up for it. This isn't any different, really, but it's easier to take from Jill. The scene is emotional and he can feel his own breath quicken as he feels the emotion, the adrenaline, it's all too real.
Unfortunately, this works to empower Guzma's resolve, than to make him back down. Seeing first hand what she went through, what she's suffered. It just steels him all the more. But he lets he talk, lets her finish. Let's her get it all out, every painful bit that stabs into his heart like a serrated blade. He doesn't even know what to say to all of that, to any of that. She's hurting and he forced this up, forced this out. Forced her to share this memory with him, and he's not even there to comfort her.
It's a strange feeling, hearing her say she loves Chris so much. There's a seed of jealousy, for sure, but this isn't about Guzma, it's about Jill. He reminds himself of that, and it doesn't make the feeling go away, so much as redirects his concern. Redirects his energy and focus. He knows he could never compare to Chris, he doesn't have the history she has with him, he's practically a stranger compared to their bond, and yet...
Dammit! Why is this so hard? After a few seconds to think, he finally answers her. It's short, and to the point, but it means a lot more than any long winded platitude at this moment, because she needs this:]
I'm coming home.
[And you can bet your ass he's leaving Nanu's without a word, heading back to the cabin as quickly as he can. Which certainly means he's going to mega-evolve Pinsir so that dumb beetle can fly his ass there. If she sends any more telepathic messages, he won't reply, mainly because he's too focused in getting back to the cabin, and once he's there (Pinsir recalled), he pushes the door open with needless force, not caring if Archie's home.]
—Jill!
[He's assuming she'll be in her room, so he's going to start heading back that way.]
[ She doesn't mean to drag him in or disturb him, but she thinks he needs to understand. That he went the same distance for her as she went for him, that he got injured, that he stood aside and dropped his weapons. His current partner didn't partake in battle after a certain point, it was just Chris pleading with her and saying her name with a vulnerability that shouldn't come from a man his size. No weapons, nothing. He just lets her tear him apart as he pleads her to come back, to recognize, to accept and simply be before he is willing to throw aside the fate of the planet so long a she's safe. She bites back at him, pushes him hard for the difference in the size and he hesitantly retreats, albeit with eyes on her like she knows that Jill is lying. That she's not alright, not safe, not likely to make it. But it's so blatant it's for her alone, despite the fact it seems to rip him apart as he heads to the elevator and Jill hits up that other woman, tells her to take care of him before struggling to stand and falling in place.
Left alone in the darkness, it envelops her. At least before Josh shows up. But she still calls Chris's name. ]
...only come back if you want to, alright? Don't come for me, come for yourself. But I... I needed you to understand. He fought for me even after everyone else thought I was dead. I had a gravestone and everyone else, they were fine with it. But he... everything he did for years was to find a clue to where I was. He never gave up on me, you know?
[ Hollow, like she's thought of it before. How quick everyone in her life accepted her death but Chris didn't just play denial or lack acceptance, he fought for her. He didn't care if it drove him made, made him weak, ate him alive. He kept pushing. Red rimmed eyes, lack of sleep, and even as Jill broke his bones he still thought of nothing but her and mad motion to ensure her safety. No matter what.
Jill sits alone with drink in hand, bottle of bourbon on the table beside her. The same as before, where she'd waited for him but staring off as if she might see something against a blank wall. She peers over at him when he comes, taking a long pull from the glass. It does nothing for her now, but there's some familiarity in it. Her smile stumbles and falters and eventually settles somewhere warmer. ]
...hey.
[ Her dog isn't here. Archie's team isn't, either. Just here, alone. Like it seems to always be. ]
[The memory is an intense one, and it plays in his head as he was making his way. Her words play in his head, but there's no reply. His head's far from empty for once, thoughts running a bit wild as he thinks about and dissects the new memory, thinking about how much of it just makes him want to—to—grab her and shake her, honestly! Probably a good deal more than that, but right now he wants to get through to her. Even if it's pointless, even if he knows this is a losing battle.
When he enters her room, he certainly looks rough. His face has since been tended to, but there's still clear inflammation from his fights, that shiner is still dark around his eye, and even with some tape on his lip, it's clear the thing has been busted. At least the blood from around his nose has been cleaned, but his poor schnoz is still pretty tender and a little pink.
However, he doesn't give a single fuck how he looks right now. Instead, he's looking at Jill with uncharacteristic gentleness. Seeing her after a week of not, after the week they've both been through. It's hard to keep himself from going over there and just pulling her into an embrace. It's all he wants to do, it's all his mind can yell at him to do.
Unfortunately he's left frozen in place, combating with himself on what to do now. It seemed so obvious an answer in his head, but now he's here and he's stiff with indecision.]
[ He holds her. Chris rushes to her as she falls without hesitation, nearly tripping over his feet and it's clear their size difference now. His hands nearly engulf her body and he pulls her close to him, close without words until she looks at him and tries to protest and with the kindest eyes, the kindest eyes you'd never expect, he tells her that it's okay. Jill seems to ease up in his arms, ease up when he looks at her and speaks. It doesn't seem to be exclusive on Jill's side, it seems to be something more that's unspoken. Something they both fear.
Jill, now, in real-time, looks empty and exhausted; haunted, maybe. Without shield or wall. There's no indictation of awareness of it and instead of that, she scrambles awkwardly to her feet and parts the distance, launching herself on him in response to his question even if it doesn't quite answer her question. ]
I was worried about you. I'm worried about you. [ Look at him after all. She was right to stress and be uncertain. She touches the side of his face, worry written on her own and upset and pained, asking what happened without words. ] ...hey.
[ But she doesn't care that she was more frank, more broken, more willing to let him see her vulnerable. ]
[While he's in a way grateful for the memory she trusted him with, it almost feels too intimate in a way. Like he's being a creep in someone's personal past—someone he cares so greatly for. With the reality of being here with her taking over, he's keen to focus his attention on that—on her.
Especially when she's coming over to him to fret over his stupid decisions. Feeling her again, being this close... it warms him in a way he hasn't felt this past week—in a way that only she seems capable of.]
I can take care of myself. [he says, rather dismissively, despite the evidence on his face that he clearly can't... When she touches the side of his face, he lets out a hiss, and he visibly winces. He looks away from her, clear shame in expression.]
I got into a couple fights, nothin' big. Nothin' to worry about. It was stupid.
[It was because he was upset, and he didn't know what to do with himself. But he doesn't want this, he doesn't want her to just turn this into fretting about him.
Stubbornly, he looks back at her, brow furrowing.]
[ It's too honest. Both him and her, even without words. They way they look at each other, the way she eventually stands and he tries to stay with her. That she physically pushes him and tells that millions will die and his first response is: well yeah, but. Whatever Guzma might have thought about Chris, now it's clear that he'd do anything for her and the only that prevented him from doing more and staying with her is that Jill pushes him, forces him to carry on and leave her. High-key, it's for the world. But it's easy to see that it's more about him. If he saves the world, he'll save himself. The important thing to her. ]
I know you can. Don't think that I believe otherwise. I was... worried. That's all.
[ Her fingers flex and she feels like she's burnt him, quickly retracting her hand like she very much had hurt him. She finds herself hesitant to offer more affectionate and able and instead just looks at him with those sad, wide eyes. ]
Stupid or not, doesn't mean I'm not going to worry. [ When she carries on, she simply shakes her head. ] I'm alright. I was just... I didn't know where you were. I was... worried about you. Us.
[Unfortunately, his focus is on Jill. Not Chris. It's not that he doesn't see what she means to him, nor what he means to her. He sees that, he gets that, but he can't imagine that Chris would want her to exist indefinitely in a reality without him and be expected to just stay stagnant. Stagnant and waiting, and lonely. Especially when all of this was so inconsequential to the world they'd all eventually return to... probably. Hell, he still isn't sure how all of this works, and he's not going to pretend to start, but... dammit.
When she pulls her hand away, his own fingers flex at his side, his tired and tender eyes staring down into her wide and worried ones. His impulse control is pretty much compromised at this point, with how his emotions are haywire, and with Jill so close... So he pulls her into a hug. A tight one, and even if it makes his body ache from the remnant bruises that are obscured by his clothes, it soothes his heart holding her like this.]
Jill—we're fine. I got upset, I worked it out of my system. I'm fine. [It's a lie, a fucking terrible one at that, but it's certainly what he's trying to push as reality. Even for himself.]
Look. I care about you—you. Not what I can get from ya, yeah? I—
[He sucks in a breath, closing his eyes as he tries to think on how to word this. How to go about it. There's so much he wants to say, but he's not sure how much would make sense, how much might upset her, and how much is even worth saying at all.]
Showing me that—what y'all went through. It's stupid, you—he... both of you shouldn't have had to deal with that shit, both of y'all should have been able to live good, decent lives. But ya couldn't. You didn't have the option. That's why—
[He knows she's gonna fight him on this. She's gonna try to reiterate what she showed him, what she's told him, and he doesn't need that. It's not that he doesn't understand, because he does. He gets it. But that doesn't mean he has to agree.]
That's why I don't give a fuck if it means we won't be together. That—this, all of it won't go no where. I just want you to start livin' for yourself. Doin' good by you, not by what you think you're obligated to, yeah?
That's no way to live. Bein' holed up inside yourself, alone and isolated 'cos you can't and won't let no one in... for whatever the reason. It ain't worth it, and anyone who gives half a damn about you the way you do them shouldn't want or expect that neither!
[ She's not sure what to expect. She doesn't think she's worth that much to anyone other than him, really, and that Guzma is willing to push past that... well, even if he doesn't treat Chris the same way she does it's easily forgiven. It's... special. Important, still.
The hug is a surprise more than anything else and she lets him do it, lets him take control this time. She thinks maybe he needs -- deserves -- that for once. Hardly limp against him, she still responds in kind to let him know that it's reciprocated, that he has a place with her, whatever that might be. Convoluted and uncertain and messy, but she thinks that fits the two of them. Anything but normal. ]
Well, yeah. You were entitled to, you know. Don't act like it's deserving of an apology or anything. [ Forlorn and not untrue, even if he's lying she can tell there's some truth to it. At least maybe the working up and trying to work out. She can tell it must still sting but that's just how it is. It still stings her, too, even though she wasn't the one rejected. ] ...it doesn't matter. This is what happened and we were prepared for it. Just... I never thought he'd hold onto me so tightly. And I'm grateful for that, as... as upset as it makes me. I wouldn't have known freedom again if it weren't for him. I could've killed him, but he still... he still tried.
[ Wake up, Jill Valentine! Her name said countless, pained times. His voice wrought with something harsh and hurt and so different from his appearance. Much like Jill, he appears one way and sounds and acts another. He looks like a damned brick wall, but he seems to crumble before her, let her take as many swipes and hits as she likes no matter how devastating they may be. But he still calls her name and eventually holds her like she's the most precious thing to him. More than just a person to save, more than a friend or ally. He's delicate and warm; tentative in a way that speaks intimacy and an unspoken affection. His eyes are like Jill's, aching and withholding yet showing all the words he can't seem to make himself say. ]
That... I'm not against it. I don't... I don't not. I just am happier when the people I love. [ Love. ] Are in a place that makes them more comfortable. The past four years... it was all my own thoughts, that's all I had to keep me sane. It didn't bring me any closer to realizing how I wanted things to be or what would make me happy. All I know is that moments like this are important and that I'm happy to be where I am. I'm happy as things are. I don't... I don't need anything else.
[ It isn't a lie, but it lingers. Like she might have some idea what all of it means. In the end she clearly cares for Chris in a way that's unspoken with a depth beyond description. A depth she struggles to pull up, to admit to.
Lowly, quietly. To herself because she's not sure it will help him in any way. It's selfish.]
[As she speaks, he continues to hold her. There's a shakiness to his hold, from tired and sore muscles that yearn for rest, but Guzma stubbornly ignores them. What matters is holding her against him right now, listening to her, letting her say what she needs. It's not exactly what he wants to hear, but that's just part of the bargain, part of accepting this. Part of caring about someone other than yourself.
Something he's not wholly unfamiliar with—Plumeria, for example, was someone he cared deeply for. Beyond words, really, but even that had a selfishness to it. His grunts even, he cared for them, took them in, gave them a family, but even that was rooted in his own selfish desires.
She's also not wrong, there is some truth to Guzma working this out through his self-destructive tendencies. He's like a bottle rocket, honestly. He needs to shoot off, explode, and burn through those emotions, so that he can come down to Earth. Unfortunately, just like the metaphorical bottle rocket, he doesn't leave the equation unscathed. However, this does raise the question of whether or not he's better off after, or not.]
Yeah—and I'm grateful to him too. That he did that shit, that he was able to save you, and give you the chance to be you, again.
[He can't help that there's a somewhat pettiness to his tone, he's not trying to let his jealousy seep through, particularly when he knows it's nothing personal. Chris isn't even aware of his existence, and when Jill eventually leaves this world to return to her own, neither will she. It doesn't make this easier knowing that, though.
It's not that it makes what happens here stupid, or pointless. It just makes holding off for something that won't matter back home stupid and pointless. Like needless torture—but that's the more selfish part of his brain at work. He knows... he understands, this is important to her. And it'd be way less meaningful if it felt forced and he wouldn't want that anyway. All of this is more complicated than Guzma ever wanted, and why did he have to fall for her?
Why did he have to fall for Jill Valentine who is honorable and loyal. Who cares and treats him—and everyone she cares for—right? He's silent for a long time, just letting her talk, letting her say her piece. He doesn't even know what to say in reply, but when she says the word love, that hold on her tightens—almost uncomfortably so. There's just something about that word that is so unfamiliar and alien to him, that hearing it almost elates him as much as it frightens him.
Which seem a bit ridiculous, considering this whole thing is about his feelings for her, but it feels different. When you just refer to it casually and indirect, without a proper name or label it's less... binding. Less defined. Like something he can back out of if need be, but this situation has certainly gone well beyond that, hasn't it?]
Jill...
[His voice is soft and quiet, not like him at all. But, that's sort of the beast of all of this really, isn't it? He's awkward and out of his depth, and he doesn't know what to do. Or, rather, he does know what to do, but what he wants and what he should do are two warring lycanrocs in his heart, and he's not sure which will win out.
That is, until he hears that last part she mutters to herself. It doesn't help, not exactly, but it doesn't particularly harm anything either. Unless you take into account his poor impulse control, and the fact he uses his hold to gently ease her back so that he can look at her, really look at her.
And then he leans in to kiss her. He's not thinking, he's just acting, which is often his curse and his burden. He's held off this desire for so long, too long, and he can't help but let that selfishness creep in.]
[ She can tell he's tired. She doesn't know where he's been and part of her wonders if he was just roughing it out in the forest again. She hadn't heard anything from Archie, but she had been vague about it; she didn't want to embarrass Guzma or make him feel uncomfortable. She loves Archie, but he's kind of got a big mouth. He's a good guy and all, but she isn't entirely sure he wouldn't immediately try to message him via amulet with something dumb. Neither of them seem to think things through.
Sighing, it feels more of a relief to have him back here and alright even if his ego still might be a little beaten and bruised from her rejection. It takes a lot to accept it like this and she's impressed with how he's handling it, even if he'd gone off like he had for a while. She's just happy he's back. His hold is a little tight, but he must need it. Some reassurance, something solid. Maybe she's using her own experiences here to fill in the blank silences of what he's doing right now, she doesn't know. The only thing she does know is she can't entirely understand him because she's not him right now.
And that's alright for now. Whatever this tentative, awkward thing is doesn't bother her and she hopes it brings them closer instead of pushes them away from each other. When he eases up after saying her name, she thinks that's that and maybe they'll sit down and talk like things are normal, maybe grab some guns or go out back and grill something. Shoot the shit, literally and figuratively. Rather than confused -- which part of her is -- she peers up at him with pooling, hopeful eyes. Head canting slightly and lips tugged up into an almost-smirk of a smile.
Until he starts to lean in. It takes her more time than it should for her reflexes to kick in and for her to realize what he's doing and as much as she wants to axe kick him, Jill just settles on what could be a big elbow, depending on if he keeps moving or not. It scrapes on by unless he keeps going without abandon. ]
Guzma, damn it. [ More disappointed than angry because she can feel it, because she can understand that "last chance" mentality and the hope to try it again. It doesn't feel disrespectful just awkward. Tentatively, she lowers her elbow to eye him over her arm with an almost playful narrowing of her eyes. ] If you can promise to keep your mouth to yourself I'll go get us a few beers and we can talk more, if you want. If you'd rather be alone then that's fine, too.
Shit good luck Guzma, you're on your own without my thoughtful guidance
[Honestly, he was doing so good. He was handling this arguably maturely, considering who he is. He was certainly trying, trying not to fall into his selfish ways, and trying to do right by Jill, and even himself. But he can only hold out for so long, keep up with that before his will and self-control chips away like old paint. Guzma is a naturally selfish person, through and through, and while he might care a whole lot, even if he doesn't like to show it, and he's absolutely emotionally susceptible... he is intrinsically selfish. He's had to be, to survive, but he's past the point where such self-centered actions are no longer necessary.
Well, honestly, his selfishness had gone well beyond its use ages past, but it's a bad habit he's only recently started to kick, and like with all matters of reform there's going to be relapses. This is one such relapse. Fortunately the elbow is enough to snap him back to reality, as it should with damn near anyone. Like Jill, it took him far too long to realize this wasn't going how he expected, and so he catches that elbow pretty damn hard. It's deserved, and even if he makes a surprised and pained gasp at the hit—it hurting a bit more than it might had he not been battered already—he's not mad it happened. Not exactly. Sure, he wanted that kiss, really badly, but he's also glad that it didn't happen.
Well, saying he isn't mad is a lie. He's mad, mad at himself, mad that he tried to pull that shit. The elbowing certainly made him release her, and he takes a step back from not only the impact, but because of his own annoyance. His expression shifts from surprised pain, to something a bit more pissed, and for a moment it's unclear who that anger is at.
Her words don't exactly reach him, not when he's this pissed off with himself and... well, embarrassed, really. He was doing good! He was keeping his shit together, and then he suddenly wasn't. His face scrunches as he closes his eyes, teeth grit as he brings his hands to his hair. At first it looks like he's just going to ruffle it in frustration, but instead he grabs and pulls. He's... never exactly showed this part to Jill, because ordinarily her presence can keep him calm and in check, but at this moment, where all of this emotion is coming to head, where he's sick and frustrated with himself and how he's acting—]
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, GUZMA?!
[Before, his third person talking had always been done in a more playful way. Often teasing, or downplaying something, but this time. It's certainly something else. Another testament to what Guzma had said before, that there are parts of him that Jill doesn't know, parts that are a bit unfair of him to keep from her, especially when he had tried to pursue something like this. Especially when he had tried to just kiss her now. Jill might not be normal, but Guzma is far from it as well, and right now he seems to be in a different place altogether.]
[ He's still doing good. It feels like it's flaring up, being consumed by a flame and leaving nothing but raw emotion; it's real. She knew the ego was all an act -- or, at least partially so -- and in a way, it's refreshing to see him be frank. The only thing is the level of it. Part of her wants to call it as melodramatic, but the other part can see that it's deeper than that. Something rooted, something pained within him that's probably spent so damn long being hurt, being alone. To have a found family you usually have to be without one of your own first.
She doesn't want to speculate about what might have left its mark on him, but she knew they could relate better than it seemed on the surface. It had been an inkling she'd had since day one. Nanu had told her a bit about him and she didn't doubt there was more than he was willing to say to her... but they're both standing here and this feels like time isn't moving anymore, not even as he loudly berates himself.
Without fear, Jill goes for those hands of his, slipping hers over his to get him to ease up on his hair and then pull them away from his face with a hard jerk. Tugging down so he is forced to look her in the eyes. Her gaze isn't quite wild, but it echoes something harder and deeper and hurting. It's a level of complicated, indescribable upset. It takes her a moment to finally speak, firm and without her voice raised. It lacks any of that playfulness she's known for, but isn't judging or harsh. There's no condemnation to come from her. ]
Don't. There's nothing wrong with you, Guzma. [ She keeps her hands on his with an almost crushing hold, but there's no violence to it. Something trickles in, warm and soothing and enveloping. Like sunlight hitting your shoulders just right on a cool day. ] I'm sorry I didn't mean to hit you like that. You know if something was wrong I would've literally picked you up and thrown your ass out the door. You need to relax right now and take a breather -- inhale through your nose and slowly exhale through your mouth. Got it?
[ She keeps her eyes on his, still standing near him without flinching or pulling away. There's no discomfort or revulsion, only concern about his well-being. ]
You can't let that anger burn you up, too. Take control of it.
Oh yes I see that, I was a fool to have doubted him
[It's a weight that's been with him for too long, an open wound that he's covered with pointless egotism and anger. A festering sore that has been tended to as much as it's been acknowledged. He's tried to move past it, tried to act like it isn't there, but it's behind everything he does. It's at his core, and the longer he ignores it, the longer it unwittingly corrupts him.
At first it's like he's not even aware she's there, lost to his anger and disappointment. But when her hands touch his, there's a noticeable twitch in his fingers, his wide eyes are staring at nothing, yet seem so fixed on something. It's not usual for such a break to happen when it's not concerning a Pokèmon battle, but the amount of emotions that have been surging through him the past week? It was well overdue. The air around them feels dry, hollow even, and it combats the warmth Jill is giving off.
Her hands succeed in getting him to let go, his breath is quick and shallow, and he's sweating. There's not much resistance once his hands let go of his hair, and she's easily able to jerk them away from himself. Perhaps it's just the time that's passed, mere seconds that have felt like individual eternities, or her combined touch and the jerk of his arms that snaps him back. Either way, his eyes focus, and he looks to her with both an expression of bafflement and loss. Her words sound far off, muffled, like she's speaking through a wall, even though he sees her. She's right there, she's touching him, but there's a ringing in his mind as his emotions come down and... crash.
Without thinking, he's following her instructions. Breathing in through his nose. Breathing out through his mouth. Once he feels properly grounded, that ringing far gone, and the world feels more real than some distant thought or memory, he realizes what he's done—what she's seen. His head hurts.]
Fuck.
[It's all he says. He's tried so hard to keep that in check, keep those kinds of reactions under control. He's an idiot for not realizing that it wasn't himself that kept that at bay, but rather the comfort Jill offered him. The moment she wasn't that source of comfort, he lost the control he thought he had. He should have made that connection sooner, honestly, seeing as he fell into those cycles the moment he wasn't around her, but Guzma has never been one to think as critically as he ought to.]
Jill—shit.
[What does he even say, how does he even explain that?]
[ She knows this sort of thing intimately. The invisible weight of burden and loss and misery that sometimes is heavier and other times is light and weakened enough that you almost can forget about it. The breaks never fully cease, though, because they're there. Always. It cloaks you like chains locked around you, twisted and encircled in a way you might not be able to move. Not forward and most certainly never back. You never can go back from where you were now and that's one of the hardest things to accept.
At first she thinks he might be ignoring her or having a full-on panic attack and if his breath didn't start to steady she would've guided him to sit and put his head between his legs. She's been inconsolable herself in the past, shaking with anger and ready to draw blood with a ferocity that is rarely clear yet is nearly always present inside of her. It still burns inside of her, turning everything to ash. She wants nothing more than to dispel it, but she's come to accept it and now uses it to her advantage -- tries to, anyway. It's passion now, not pain.
Her head shakes, though she doesn't speak just yet. It's just a small gesture to indicate that if he thinks something is broken or impossible to repair, that it isn't the case. That she's still here, that she's not kicked him through the wall, that everything is just as normal as it was before. Just more... aware. ]
It's alright. We've both been through some shit, haven't we? And I can't blame you for going for one last try. [ She smiles weakly like she might chuckle, but instead she just keeps her eyes on him like she means to ground him with a stare. ] Just try to take it easy.
[ Finally, she lets go of him now that he seems aware and more grounded. But she lifts a hand and gives his arm a punch. It's so light and weak that it's clearly a patented Jill tease and not meant to be taken seriously. ]
You and me, we're fine. Is there anything I can do for you, though? I'm gonna ditch and go take a breather -- not your kind of a breather -- if not. Otherwise I'll hang out with you?
With his prisine track record, that's sound advice
[It's like a choker chain that's been pulled taut around his neck for so long he's forgotten how it feels to be without it. It's part of him, that pressure always applied to his air supply, limiting just how much he can breathe. But once he's reminded that it's there, and how tight it is, it's like years worth of suffocation catches up to him in a single moment. It's crushing, all consuming, and honestly fucking terrifying.
He nods, wetting his far too dry lips as he tries to piece his mind back together. It's a strange comfort how she brushes off his stupid mistake, how she lets it go and seems to forgive it. It makes it easier for him to let it go too, but he doesn't. Not yet, but he will. It's always been hard for him to forgive himself his flaws and missteps. A learned trait.
That light punch is honestly the best comfort in this whole thing. It's the most normal out of this chaotic mess, and he can't even describe how much the gesture means to him.]
I think—[he starts, his voice is rough, in part because of how dry his throat is after that, but also because of how worn he feels]—you've done enough for me.
[It's completely true, he couldn't think of a single thing he would or could ask of her at this point. Not after everything, not after that. She deserves a breather, for as long as he wants. For as long as she needs. He wouldn't blame her if she ran away and never came back, but he knows by now that's not her, and she never would do that to him. To anyone she cares about...]
[ It's not something she can relate to. Reminders, sometimes, of the loss that she's dealt with can creep up. The anger over Wesker's betrayal is rarer now, but sometimes the thought will return. She'll remember those two years fondly along with the respect she had for her superior. Then she'll lose parts of those that have passed on. Richard's haircut, Forest's laugh, Enrique's steadfastness. Forest, though. All those years they'd known each other, her friendship with him having lead to him introducing her to Chris before STARS. Then a third wheel, which he didn't seem to mind. But sometimes she forgets what model grenade launcher he used or the color of his eyes -- but she can remember him slumped in that chair in the mansion.
She can remember killing him again.
But it's not like that always. There are good things, both at home (now) and here in Verens. It doesn't usually get near suffocation anymore. She takes too much care to remind herself of what she has and how fortunate she is. She lets a hand come to her hip and her eyebrows rise. ]
Yeah? Well, don't think of it as me doing something for you. That implies you owe me something and you don't.
[ It's emotionally exhausting, but she's always been the one to take care of everyone. More in battle since she was selective with her small friend circle, but in the end she would protect the people she cares for emotionally and physically above all else. It wasn't a chore. ]
Go raid the fridge and grab a bite to eat. Let yourself relax and come down from that -- but don't think I'll let you get out of this so easily. You and me, we're due for another talk. But let's take it easy, yeah?
[Most the time he can ignore it, most the time he can bulldoze through with his anger, and make himself forget. But those times that he can't, those are doozies. By the root of it, his trauma and broken past was entirely self aimed, and perhaps had he shared such with another person, if he had someone other than himself to protect in his younger years, he might not have grown to be as self-centered. But he was alone in that regard, surrounded by people who didn't quite understand him in the way he thought they ought to. It made closing off far too easy, and made self-preservation paramount, even if what he thought was best for him wasn't actually.
It was too late in life that he found others like him, that he found that solidarity and community. And while that certainly helped him foster bonds he otherwise didn't have, it was well past the point that his selfish survivalist instinct was conditioned within him. An otherwise permanent part of him that he's been trying to adjust, since he knows he'll never change. Not entirely. He is who he is, but he doesn't have to be his worst self.]
I didn't mean it like that.
[It's not about owing anyone anything, it's about caring, and nurturing and... she's done enough as it is. She needs her time, she needs to be able to step away from the mess that he is and not have to worry that he's going to burst into flames of his own making.
At her suggestion, he nods. They both need to come down after that, and who knows how well he's been eating this past week. He certainly doesn't.]
Yeah—you deserve that much. I owe you an explanation, I get that.
[He lets out a slow, albeit shaky, breath. This has been one hell of a ride, and he's just left tired and exhausted. It's too early for him to know if this has done them any good, or if his worries that are stirring into the back of his head are more aligned with the actual reality. It takes him a second, but he turns on his heel, his back to her.]
I'll catch ya later, then.
[He's trying to keep this calm and casual. It's more for himself than anything, but he needs to at least pretend he's not walking away from a burning building of a situation.]
[ Experience and circumstance will shape you. It's what creates your arsenal of tools to cope and to shield yourself. She doesn't blame him and really only wants the best for him, though it's hard to not let her questions overpower her concern. Jill can't fully understand it from his point of view -- or even partially -- until she knows more. She'd been alone most of her life, but she'd had wonderful parents and while her circle of family and friends now was tiny, they were still anchors. ]
I know you didn't. It was worth saying still.
[ He has it wrong, though. She's just emotionally charged right now, a ball of electricity with nowhere to strike. Not angry, but part of her is hurt and the rest of her has no idea what she's doing or where she's going. It would be a lie to suggest that some of his suggestions about romance or her feelings about Chris didn't get to her. The past four years left a lot up in the air and all this proves is she definitely wasn't ready to be with someone in that respect, even if it felt just right. ]
Take your time. We've all got our shit and our brains aren't always equipped to deal with that shit in the way we want it to.
[ More experience. Jill could be downright vicious at times and hopefully no one would ever have to see that side of her when she snaps. Her shoulders rise and fall into something like a sigh and a shrug all at once, though without any negativity to it. Playful, almost. ]
Just so long as you stick around. Give yourself space, but don't be a stranger. This doesn't change anything about our friendship on my end. We're still thick as thieves and if you think you can ditch me, like I said. I'll hunt you down... but, ah. I'll try not to break your nose or anything on accident if that's the case.
[ Now, at least, she chuckles. She clearly feels bad about that still, but if she can't make a joke about it then neither of them will be able to dig themselves out of this shitty hole. ]
[Had Guzma had that in his life, he would have been someone else entirely. Maybe he would have been successful, maybe he would have realized the dreams that got tossed to the wayside because of his damage and that he ran out of time. Maybe he could have become a captain, a Kahuna, something important. Not the dark spot on Alola's history he is now.]
Mm.
[It's just a simple sound of acknowledgement, because there's not much else to say to that, really. He nods to the next, he knows all too well how ill-equipped his brain is for most situations. Hell, if his brain worked half as good as most people's, maybe he'd avoid a lot of bullshit. Alas!]
I won't go no where. I belong here, and besides... Don't got no where to go—'cept Nanu's I guess. But I'm sure he's sick of seein' me.
[Which almost implies that he's been there longer than he actually has, but he knows that while Nanu and him have an understanding, and a budding mentorship, Guzma's a fucking handful. He has no intention of overrunning Nanu's life, not entirely, anyway.]
If I were you, I'd've broken my nose, but too late! Missed your chance!
[He says this after his back is turned, not looking at her. But his body language and tone carriers that jovial air, and he shrugs with both arms out at his sides, palms upward. The joking helps, it does, but it doesn't change that feeling of dread that's slowly gnawing at him. A good distraction all the same.]
[ Maybe it didn't matter at all because he still has a future to go back to and he has one here, too. It might not be the same as he wanted, but life has a way of throwing some messy curveballs at you. Jill knows this plenty, herself, and she still managed to be happy in her own way. Might take time, but she thinks that he'll manage. She hadn't felt like she was comfortable until after she'd hit thirty and she'd been his age when shit hit the fan. ]
Heh, well, I guess you just gave away your secret hideout, you sucker. [ But it's fond, fonder than anything she's let seep out more recently even if she is trying to be cautious since the last time she did that it ended up... well, at least Guzma's nose doesn't seem to be shattered beyond recognition. Points for her, she guesses. ] Oh, Guzma. There's always time for me to change my mind. Good thing I like you and your nose intact -- just don't challenge me on it. I'm pretty competitive, you know.
[ Nose-breaking contest? This is some friendly banter. Rather than let him take the leave, she lightly (really, really lightly after that fiasco) elbows his arm and swerves past him to take leave first. ]
Don't sweat it. Really. Easier said than done, but cut yourself some slack. Took a lot of guts, more to be honest with yourself. [ She keeps walking, vaguely gesturing as she's wont to do when she talks. Her tone is serious, but light and genuine. Fond. ] So don't play normal and fine. You're allowed to be vulnerable. You should know by now I'm not going to use that to fire back at you, yeah?
[ She leaves it at that, heading through the kitchen and presumably out of the house. ]
[Thirty seems an eternity away, at this point. He's young, he's got a life before him, but it certainly feels at times that he doesn't. He's aimless, and without purpose. But, one can suppose that's better than the purpose he gave himself before.]
It ain't that secret. [At least, not in his mind. But sometimes he forgets if he mentions vital information to people, like... Nanu being his mentor. Maybe he told Jill that, maybe he didn't. He can't honestly remember. At least he's able to let out a laugh at her next bit, and it's not completely fake or put upon.]
It'd be a little unequal, don't you think? My nose is way bigger than yours, yo.
[But, as soon as he says that, as if on cue: he does feel something wet running down onto his upper lip, and bringing a hand to the spot—ah. That's blood. He doesn't react to it, beyond keeping his hand there, so that when Jill passes him (not quite reacting to her elbowing either) she might not see it. There was likely a delay in the blood flowing down, since his nose was already pretty inflamed from a prior hit to it.
Oh well.]
Yeah I—Yeah...
[It's all he says, letting her leave. He doesn't move from that spot right away, giving her time to possibly be out of the house, before he'll make his way to the bathroom to look at the number she—no, he did on his nose. It's... it's certainly bleeding, and quite a bit. But that's fine, he'll just spend the next ten minutes or so holding goddamn toilet paper to his face, putting the toilet seat lid down so he can sit on it. He doesn't need to get blood everywhere, so this is where he'll be till his stupid nose stops bleeding like a stuck tepig.
This is what he deserves after all that, anyways.]
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golisolation) wrote2010-07-17 11:01 am
the eggplant emoji hard obviously
Unfortunately, this works to empower Guzma's resolve, than to make him back down. Seeing first hand what she went through, what she's suffered. It just steels him all the more. But he lets he talk, lets her finish. Let's her get it all out, every painful bit that stabs into his heart like a serrated blade. He doesn't even know what to say to all of that, to any of that. She's hurting and he forced this up, forced this out. Forced her to share this memory with him, and he's not even there to comfort her.
It's a strange feeling, hearing her say she loves Chris so much. There's a seed of jealousy, for sure, but this isn't about Guzma, it's about Jill. He reminds himself of that, and it doesn't make the feeling go away, so much as redirects his concern. Redirects his energy and focus. He knows he could never compare to Chris, he doesn't have the history she has with him, he's practically a stranger compared to their bond, and yet...
Dammit! Why is this so hard? After a few seconds to think, he finally answers her. It's short, and to the point, but it means a lot more than any long winded platitude at this moment, because she needs this:]
I'm coming home.
[And you can bet your ass he's leaving Nanu's without a word, heading back to the cabin as quickly as he can. Which certainly means he's going to mega-evolve Pinsir so that dumb beetle can fly his ass there. If she sends any more telepathic messages, he won't reply, mainly because he's too focused in getting back to the cabin, and once he's there (Pinsir recalled), he pushes the door open with needless force, not caring if Archie's home.]
—Jill!
[He's assuming she'll be in her room, so he's going to start heading back that way.]
seems a lil Soft to me
Left alone in the darkness, it envelops her. At least before Josh shows up. But she still calls Chris's name. ]
...only come back if you want to, alright? Don't come for me, come for yourself. But I... I needed you to understand. He fought for me even after everyone else thought I was dead. I had a gravestone and everyone else, they were fine with it. But he... everything he did for years was to find a clue to where I was. He never gave up on me, you know?
[ Hollow, like she's thought of it before. How quick everyone in her life accepted her death but Chris didn't just play denial or lack acceptance, he fought for her. He didn't care if it drove him made, made him weak, ate him alive. He kept pushing. Red rimmed eyes, lack of sleep, and even as Jill broke his bones he still thought of nothing but her and mad motion to ensure her safety. No matter what.
Jill sits alone with drink in hand, bottle of bourbon on the table beside her. The same as before, where she'd waited for him but staring off as if she might see something against a blank wall. She peers over at him when he comes, taking a long pull from the glass. It does nothing for her now, but there's some familiarity in it. Her smile stumbles and falters and eventually settles somewhere warmer. ]
...hey.
[ Her dog isn't here. Archie's team isn't, either. Just here, alone. Like it seems to always be. ]
Maybe she can help with that
When he enters her room, he certainly looks rough. His face has since been tended to, but there's still clear inflammation from his fights, that shiner is still dark around his eye, and even with some tape on his lip, it's clear the thing has been busted. At least the blood from around his nose has been cleaned, but his poor schnoz is still pretty tender and a little pink.
However, he doesn't give a single fuck how he looks right now. Instead, he's looking at Jill with uncharacteristic gentleness. Seeing her after a week of not, after the week they've both been through. It's hard to keep himself from going over there and just pulling her into an embrace. It's all he wants to do, it's all his mind can yell at him to do.
Unfortunately he's left frozen in place, combating with himself on what to do now. It seemed so obvious an answer in his head, but now he's here and he's stiff with indecision.]
Hey...
[He's at least able to get that much out.]
Maybe :eyes:
Jill, now, in real-time, looks empty and exhausted; haunted, maybe. Without shield or wall. There's no indictation of awareness of it and instead of that, she scrambles awkwardly to her feet and parts the distance, launching herself on him in response to his question even if it doesn't quite answer her question. ]
I was worried about you. I'm worried about you. [ Look at him after all. She was right to stress and be uncertain. She touches the side of his face, worry written on her own and upset and pained, asking what happened without words. ] ...hey.
[ But she doesn't care that she was more frank, more broken, more willing to let him see her vulnerable. ]
6 v 6
Especially when she's coming over to him to fret over his stupid decisions. Feeling her again, being this close... it warms him in a way he hasn't felt this past week—in a way that only she seems capable of.]
I can take care of myself. [he says, rather dismissively, despite the evidence on his face that he clearly can't... When she touches the side of his face, he lets out a hiss, and he visibly winces. He looks away from her, clear shame in expression.]
I got into a couple fights, nothin' big. Nothin' to worry about. It was stupid.
[It was because he was upset, and he didn't know what to do with himself. But he doesn't want this, he doesn't want her to just turn this into fretting about him.
Stubbornly, he looks back at her, brow furrowing.]
It doesn't matter—what matters is you.
?_?
I know you can. Don't think that I believe otherwise. I was... worried. That's all.
[ Her fingers flex and she feels like she's burnt him, quickly retracting her hand like she very much had hurt him. She finds herself hesitant to offer more affectionate and able and instead just looks at him with those sad, wide eyes. ]
Stupid or not, doesn't mean I'm not going to worry. [ When she carries on, she simply shakes her head. ] I'm alright. I was just... I didn't know where you were. I was... worried about you. Us.
♥_♥
When she pulls her hand away, his own fingers flex at his side, his tired and tender eyes staring down into her wide and worried ones. His impulse control is pretty much compromised at this point, with how his emotions are haywire, and with Jill so close... So he pulls her into a hug. A tight one, and even if it makes his body ache from the remnant bruises that are obscured by his clothes, it soothes his heart holding her like this.]
Jill—we're fine. I got upset, I worked it out of my system. I'm fine. [It's a lie, a fucking terrible one at that, but it's certainly what he's trying to push as reality. Even for himself.]
Look. I care about you—you. Not what I can get from ya, yeah? I—
[He sucks in a breath, closing his eyes as he tries to think on how to word this. How to go about it. There's so much he wants to say, but he's not sure how much would make sense, how much might upset her, and how much is even worth saying at all.]
Showing me that—what y'all went through. It's stupid, you—he... both of you shouldn't have had to deal with that shit, both of y'all should have been able to live good, decent lives. But ya couldn't. You didn't have the option. That's why—
[He knows she's gonna fight him on this. She's gonna try to reiterate what she showed him, what she's told him, and he doesn't need that. It's not that he doesn't understand, because he does. He gets it. But that doesn't mean he has to agree.]
That's why I don't give a fuck if it means we won't be together. That—this, all of it won't go no where. I just want you to start livin' for yourself. Doin' good by you, not by what you think you're obligated to, yeah?
That's no way to live. Bein' holed up inside yourself, alone and isolated 'cos you can't and won't let no one in... for whatever the reason. It ain't worth it, and anyone who gives half a damn about you the way you do them shouldn't want or expect that neither!
oh gimme them dokis uwu
The hug is a surprise more than anything else and she lets him do it, lets him take control this time. She thinks maybe he needs -- deserves -- that for once. Hardly limp against him, she still responds in kind to let him know that it's reciprocated, that he has a place with her, whatever that might be. Convoluted and uncertain and messy, but she thinks that fits the two of them. Anything but normal. ]
Well, yeah. You were entitled to, you know. Don't act like it's deserving of an apology or anything. [ Forlorn and not untrue, even if he's lying she can tell there's some truth to it. At least maybe the working up and trying to work out. She can tell it must still sting but that's just how it is. It still stings her, too, even though she wasn't the one rejected. ] ...it doesn't matter. This is what happened and we were prepared for it. Just... I never thought he'd hold onto me so tightly. And I'm grateful for that, as... as upset as it makes me. I wouldn't have known freedom again if it weren't for him. I could've killed him, but he still... he still tried.
[ Wake up, Jill Valentine! Her name said countless, pained times. His voice wrought with something harsh and hurt and so different from his appearance. Much like Jill, he appears one way and sounds and acts another. He looks like a damned brick wall, but he seems to crumble before her, let her take as many swipes and hits as she likes no matter how devastating they may be. But he still calls her name and eventually holds her like she's the most precious thing to him. More than just a person to save, more than a friend or ally. He's delicate and warm; tentative in a way that speaks intimacy and an unspoken affection. His eyes are like Jill's, aching and withholding yet showing all the words he can't seem to make himself say. ]
That... I'm not against it. I don't... I don't not. I just am happier when the people I love. [ Love. ] Are in a place that makes them more comfortable. The past four years... it was all my own thoughts, that's all I had to keep me sane. It didn't bring me any closer to realizing how I wanted things to be or what would make me happy. All I know is that moments like this are important and that I'm happy to be where I am. I'm happy as things are. I don't... I don't need anything else.
[ It isn't a lie, but it lingers. Like she might have some idea what all of it means. In the end she clearly cares for Chris in a way that's unspoken with a depth beyond description. A depth she struggles to pull up, to admit to.
Lowly, quietly. To herself because she's not sure it will help him in any way. It's selfish.]
Another time and another place, maybe.
Happily!
Something he's not wholly unfamiliar with—Plumeria, for example, was someone he cared deeply for. Beyond words, really, but even that had a selfishness to it. His grunts even, he cared for them, took them in, gave them a family, but even that was rooted in his own selfish desires.
She's also not wrong, there is some truth to Guzma working this out through his self-destructive tendencies. He's like a bottle rocket, honestly. He needs to shoot off, explode, and burn through those emotions, so that he can come down to Earth. Unfortunately, just like the metaphorical bottle rocket, he doesn't leave the equation unscathed. However, this does raise the question of whether or not he's better off after, or not.]
Yeah—and I'm grateful to him too. That he did that shit, that he was able to save you, and give you the chance to be you, again.
[He can't help that there's a somewhat pettiness to his tone, he's not trying to let his jealousy seep through, particularly when he knows it's nothing personal. Chris isn't even aware of his existence, and when Jill eventually leaves this world to return to her own, neither will she. It doesn't make this easier knowing that, though.
It's not that it makes what happens here stupid, or pointless. It just makes holding off for something that won't matter back home stupid and pointless. Like needless torture—but that's the more selfish part of his brain at work. He knows... he understands, this is important to her. And it'd be way less meaningful if it felt forced and he wouldn't want that anyway. All of this is more complicated than Guzma ever wanted, and why did he have to fall for her?
Why did he have to fall for Jill Valentine who is honorable and loyal. Who cares and treats him—and everyone she cares for—right? He's silent for a long time, just letting her talk, letting her say her piece. He doesn't even know what to say in reply, but when she says the word love, that hold on her tightens—almost uncomfortably so. There's just something about that word that is so unfamiliar and alien to him, that hearing it almost elates him as much as it frightens him.
Which seem a bit ridiculous, considering this whole thing is about his feelings for her, but it feels different. When you just refer to it casually and indirect, without a proper name or label it's less... binding. Less defined. Like something he can back out of if need be, but this situation has certainly gone well beyond that, hasn't it?]
Jill...
[His voice is soft and quiet, not like him at all. But, that's sort of the beast of all of this really, isn't it? He's awkward and out of his depth, and he doesn't know what to do. Or, rather, he does know what to do, but what he wants and what he should do are two warring lycanrocs in his heart, and he's not sure which will win out.
That is, until he hears that last part she mutters to herself. It doesn't help, not exactly, but it doesn't particularly harm anything either. Unless you take into account his poor impulse control, and the fact he uses his hold to gently ease her back so that he can look at her, really look at her.
And then he leans in to kiss her. He's not thinking, he's just acting, which is often his curse and his burden. He's held off this desire for so long, too long, and he can't help but let that selfishness creep in.]
banned from your own journal
Sighing, it feels more of a relief to have him back here and alright even if his ego still might be a little beaten and bruised from her rejection. It takes a lot to accept it like this and she's impressed with how he's handling it, even if he'd gone off like he had for a while. She's just happy he's back. His hold is a little tight, but he must need it. Some reassurance, something solid. Maybe she's using her own experiences here to fill in the blank silences of what he's doing right now, she doesn't know. The only thing she does know is she can't entirely understand him because she's not him right now.
And that's alright for now. Whatever this tentative, awkward thing is doesn't bother her and she hopes it brings them closer instead of pushes them away from each other. When he eases up after saying her name, she thinks that's that and maybe they'll sit down and talk like things are normal, maybe grab some guns or go out back and grill something. Shoot the shit, literally and figuratively. Rather than confused -- which part of her is -- she peers up at him with pooling, hopeful eyes. Head canting slightly and lips tugged up into an almost-smirk of a smile.
Until he starts to lean in. It takes her more time than it should for her reflexes to kick in and for her to realize what he's doing and as much as she wants to axe kick him, Jill just settles on what could be a big elbow, depending on if he keeps moving or not. It scrapes on by unless he keeps going without abandon. ]
Guzma, damn it. [ More disappointed than angry because she can feel it, because she can understand that "last chance" mentality and the hope to try it again. It doesn't feel disrespectful just awkward. Tentatively, she lowers her elbow to eye him over her arm with an almost playful narrowing of her eyes. ] If you can promise to keep your mouth to yourself I'll go get us a few beers and we can talk more, if you want. If you'd rather be alone then that's fine, too.
Shit good luck Guzma, you're on your own without my thoughtful guidance
Well, honestly, his selfishness had gone well beyond its use ages past, but it's a bad habit he's only recently started to kick, and like with all matters of reform there's going to be relapses. This is one such relapse. Fortunately the elbow is enough to snap him back to reality, as it should with damn near anyone. Like Jill, it took him far too long to realize this wasn't going how he expected, and so he catches that elbow pretty damn hard. It's deserved, and even if he makes a surprised and pained gasp at the hit—it hurting a bit more than it might had he not been battered already—he's not mad it happened. Not exactly. Sure, he wanted that kiss, really badly, but he's also glad that it didn't happen.
Well, saying he isn't mad is a lie. He's mad, mad at himself, mad that he tried to pull that shit. The elbowing certainly made him release her, and he takes a step back from not only the impact, but because of his own annoyance. His expression shifts from surprised pain, to something a bit more pissed, and for a moment it's unclear who that anger is at.
Her words don't exactly reach him, not when he's this pissed off with himself and... well, embarrassed, really. He was doing good! He was keeping his shit together, and then he suddenly wasn't. His face scrunches as he closes his eyes, teeth grit as he brings his hands to his hair. At first it looks like he's just going to ruffle it in frustration, but instead he grabs and pulls. He's... never exactly showed this part to Jill, because ordinarily her presence can keep him calm and in check, but at this moment, where all of this emotion is coming to head, where he's sick and frustrated with himself and how he's acting—]
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, GUZMA?!
[Before, his third person talking had always been done in a more playful way. Often teasing, or downplaying something, but this time. It's certainly something else. Another testament to what Guzma had said before, that there are parts of him that Jill doesn't know, parts that are a bit unfair of him to keep from her, especially when he had tried to pursue something like this. Especially when he had tried to just kiss her now. Jill might not be normal, but Guzma is far from it as well, and right now he seems to be in a different place altogether.]
it's working out perfectly
She doesn't want to speculate about what might have left its mark on him, but she knew they could relate better than it seemed on the surface. It had been an inkling she'd had since day one. Nanu had told her a bit about him and she didn't doubt there was more than he was willing to say to her... but they're both standing here and this feels like time isn't moving anymore, not even as he loudly berates himself.
Without fear, Jill goes for those hands of his, slipping hers over his to get him to ease up on his hair and then pull them away from his face with a hard jerk. Tugging down so he is forced to look her in the eyes. Her gaze isn't quite wild, but it echoes something harder and deeper and hurting. It's a level of complicated, indescribable upset. It takes her a moment to finally speak, firm and without her voice raised. It lacks any of that playfulness she's known for, but isn't judging or harsh. There's no condemnation to come from her. ]
Don't. There's nothing wrong with you, Guzma. [ She keeps her hands on his with an almost crushing hold, but there's no violence to it. Something trickles in, warm and soothing and enveloping. Like sunlight hitting your shoulders just right on a cool day. ] I'm sorry I didn't mean to hit you like that. You know if something was wrong I would've literally picked you up and thrown your ass out the door. You need to relax right now and take a breather -- inhale through your nose and slowly exhale through your mouth. Got it?
[ She keeps her eyes on his, still standing near him without flinching or pulling away. There's no discomfort or revulsion, only concern about his well-being. ]
You can't let that anger burn you up, too. Take control of it.
Oh yes I see that, I was a fool to have doubted him
At first it's like he's not even aware she's there, lost to his anger and disappointment. But when her hands touch his, there's a noticeable twitch in his fingers, his wide eyes are staring at nothing, yet seem so fixed on something. It's not usual for such a break to happen when it's not concerning a Pokèmon battle, but the amount of emotions that have been surging through him the past week? It was well overdue. The air around them feels dry, hollow even, and it combats the warmth Jill is giving off.
Her hands succeed in getting him to let go, his breath is quick and shallow, and he's sweating. There's not much resistance once his hands let go of his hair, and she's easily able to jerk them away from himself. Perhaps it's just the time that's passed, mere seconds that have felt like individual eternities, or her combined touch and the jerk of his arms that snaps him back. Either way, his eyes focus, and he looks to her with both an expression of bafflement and loss. Her words sound far off, muffled, like she's speaking through a wall, even though he sees her. She's right there, she's touching him, but there's a ringing in his mind as his emotions come down and... crash.
Without thinking, he's following her instructions. Breathing in through his nose. Breathing out through his mouth. Once he feels properly grounded, that ringing far gone, and the world feels more real than some distant thought or memory, he realizes what he's done—what she's seen. His head hurts.]
Fuck.
[It's all he says. He's tried so hard to keep that in check, keep those kinds of reactions under control. He's an idiot for not realizing that it wasn't himself that kept that at bay, but rather the comfort Jill offered him. The moment she wasn't that source of comfort, he lost the control he thought he had. He should have made that connection sooner, honestly, seeing as he fell into those cycles the moment he wasn't around her, but Guzma has never been one to think as critically as he ought to.]
Jill—shit.
[What does he even say, how does he even explain that?]
never doubt ya boi
At first she thinks he might be ignoring her or having a full-on panic attack and if his breath didn't start to steady she would've guided him to sit and put his head between his legs. She's been inconsolable herself in the past, shaking with anger and ready to draw blood with a ferocity that is rarely clear yet is nearly always present inside of her. It still burns inside of her, turning everything to ash. She wants nothing more than to dispel it, but she's come to accept it and now uses it to her advantage -- tries to, anyway. It's passion now, not pain.
Her head shakes, though she doesn't speak just yet. It's just a small gesture to indicate that if he thinks something is broken or impossible to repair, that it isn't the case. That she's still here, that she's not kicked him through the wall, that everything is just as normal as it was before. Just more... aware. ]
It's alright. We've both been through some shit, haven't we? And I can't blame you for going for one last try. [ She smiles weakly like she might chuckle, but instead she just keeps her eyes on him like she means to ground him with a stare. ] Just try to take it easy.
[ Finally, she lets go of him now that he seems aware and more grounded. But she lifts a hand and gives his arm a punch. It's so light and weak that it's clearly a patented Jill tease and not meant to be taken seriously. ]
You and me, we're fine. Is there anything I can do for you, though? I'm gonna ditch and go take a breather -- not your kind of a breather -- if not. Otherwise I'll hang out with you?
With his prisine track record, that's sound advice
He nods, wetting his far too dry lips as he tries to piece his mind back together. It's a strange comfort how she brushes off his stupid mistake, how she lets it go and seems to forgive it. It makes it easier for him to let it go too, but he doesn't. Not yet, but he will. It's always been hard for him to forgive himself his flaws and missteps. A learned trait.
That light punch is honestly the best comfort in this whole thing. It's the most normal out of this chaotic mess, and he can't even describe how much the gesture means to him.]
I think—[he starts, his voice is rough, in part because of how dry his throat is after that, but also because of how worn he feels]—you've done enough for me.
[It's completely true, he couldn't think of a single thing he would or could ask of her at this point. Not after everything, not after that. She deserves a breather, for as long as he wants. For as long as she needs. He wouldn't blame her if she ran away and never came back, but he knows by now that's not her, and she never would do that to him. To anyone she cares about...]
10/10 would guz again
She can remember killing him again.
But it's not like that always. There are good things, both at home (now) and here in Verens. It doesn't usually get near suffocation anymore. She takes too much care to remind herself of what she has and how fortunate she is. She lets a hand come to her hip and her eyebrows rise. ]
Yeah? Well, don't think of it as me doing something for you. That implies you owe me something and you don't.
[ It's emotionally exhausting, but she's always been the one to take care of everyone. More in battle since she was selective with her small friend circle, but in the end she would protect the people she cares for emotionally and physically above all else. It wasn't a chore. ]
Go raid the fridge and grab a bite to eat. Let yourself relax and come down from that -- but don't think I'll let you get out of this so easily. You and me, we're due for another talk. But let's take it easy, yeah?
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It was too late in life that he found others like him, that he found that solidarity and community. And while that certainly helped him foster bonds he otherwise didn't have, it was well past the point that his selfish survivalist instinct was conditioned within him. An otherwise permanent part of him that he's been trying to adjust, since he knows he'll never change. Not entirely. He is who he is, but he doesn't have to be his worst self.]
I didn't mean it like that.
[It's not about owing anyone anything, it's about caring, and nurturing and... she's done enough as it is. She needs her time, she needs to be able to step away from the mess that he is and not have to worry that he's going to burst into flames of his own making.
At her suggestion, he nods. They both need to come down after that, and who knows how well he's been eating this past week. He certainly doesn't.]
Yeah—you deserve that much. I owe you an explanation, I get that.
[He lets out a slow, albeit shaky, breath. This has been one hell of a ride, and he's just left tired and exhausted. It's too early for him to know if this has done them any good, or if his worries that are stirring into the back of his head are more aligned with the actual reality. It takes him a second, but he turns on his heel, his back to her.]
I'll catch ya later, then.
[He's trying to keep this calm and casual. It's more for himself than anything, but he needs to at least pretend he's not walking away from a burning building of a situation.]
BEArified
I know you didn't. It was worth saying still.
[ He has it wrong, though. She's just emotionally charged right now, a ball of electricity with nowhere to strike. Not angry, but part of her is hurt and the rest of her has no idea what she's doing or where she's going. It would be a lie to suggest that some of his suggestions about romance or her feelings about Chris didn't get to her. The past four years left a lot up in the air and all this proves is she definitely wasn't ready to be with someone in that respect, even if it felt just right. ]
Take your time. We've all got our shit and our brains aren't always equipped to deal with that shit in the way we want it to.
[ More experience. Jill could be downright vicious at times and hopefully no one would ever have to see that side of her when she snaps. Her shoulders rise and fall into something like a sigh and a shrug all at once, though without any negativity to it. Playful, almost. ]
Just so long as you stick around. Give yourself space, but don't be a stranger. This doesn't change anything about our friendship on my end. We're still thick as thieves and if you think you can ditch me, like I said. I'll hunt you down... but, ah. I'll try not to break your nose or anything on accident if that's the case.
[ Now, at least, she chuckles. She clearly feels bad about that still, but if she can't make a joke about it then neither of them will be able to dig themselves out of this shitty hole. ]
more like BEAnned!!
Mm.
[It's just a simple sound of acknowledgement, because there's not much else to say to that, really. He nods to the next, he knows all too well how ill-equipped his brain is for most situations. Hell, if his brain worked half as good as most people's, maybe he'd avoid a lot of bullshit. Alas!]
I won't go no where. I belong here, and besides... Don't got no where to go—'cept Nanu's I guess. But I'm sure he's sick of seein' me.
[Which almost implies that he's been there longer than he actually has, but he knows that while Nanu and him have an understanding, and a budding mentorship, Guzma's a fucking handful. He has no intention of overrunning Nanu's life, not entirely, anyway.]
If I were you, I'd've broken my nose, but too late! Missed your chance!
[He says this after his back is turned, not looking at her. But his body language and tone carriers that jovial air, and he shrugs with both arms out at his sides, palms upward. The joking helps, it does, but it doesn't change that feeling of dread that's slowly gnawing at him. A good distraction all the same.]
i love beans
Heh, well, I guess you just gave away your secret hideout, you sucker. [ But it's fond, fonder than anything she's let seep out more recently even if she is trying to be cautious since the last time she did that it ended up... well, at least Guzma's nose doesn't seem to be shattered beyond recognition. Points for her, she guesses. ] Oh, Guzma. There's always time for me to change my mind. Good thing I like you and your nose intact -- just don't challenge me on it. I'm pretty competitive, you know.
[ Nose-breaking contest? This is some friendly banter. Rather than let him take the leave, she lightly (really, really lightly after that fiasco) elbows his arm and swerves past him to take leave first. ]
Don't sweat it. Really. Easier said than done, but cut yourself some slack. Took a lot of guts, more to be honest with yourself. [ She keeps walking, vaguely gesturing as she's wont to do when she talks. Her tone is serious, but light and genuine. Fond. ] So don't play normal and fine. You're allowed to be vulnerable. You should know by now I'm not going to use that to fire back at you, yeah?
[ She leaves it at that, heading through the kitchen and presumably out of the house. ]
no wonder ur such a TOOT!
It ain't that secret. [At least, not in his mind. But sometimes he forgets if he mentions vital information to people, like... Nanu being his mentor. Maybe he told Jill that, maybe he didn't. He can't honestly remember. At least he's able to let out a laugh at her next bit, and it's not completely fake or put upon.]
It'd be a little unequal, don't you think? My nose is way bigger than yours, yo.
[But, as soon as he says that, as if on cue: he does feel something wet running down onto his upper lip, and bringing a hand to the spot—ah. That's blood. He doesn't react to it, beyond keeping his hand there, so that when Jill passes him (not quite reacting to her elbowing either) she might not see it. There was likely a delay in the blood flowing down, since his nose was already pretty inflamed from a prior hit to it.
Oh well.]
Yeah I—Yeah...
[It's all he says, letting her leave. He doesn't move from that spot right away, giving her time to possibly be out of the house, before he'll make his way to the bathroom to look at the number she—no, he did on his nose. It's... it's certainly bleeding, and quite a bit. But that's fine, he'll just spend the next ten minutes or so holding goddamn toilet paper to his face, putting the toilet seat lid down so he can sit on it. He doesn't need to get blood everywhere, so this is where he'll be till his stupid nose stops bleeding like a stuck tepig.
This is what he deserves after all that, anyways.]