[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.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
golisolation) wrote2010-07-17 11:01 am
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?
A review from a verified buyer
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.]