log; ongoing

[irresoluteness.livejournal.com]

When; August 15th (Admit You're Happy curse)
Rating; PG-13? Maybe?
Characters; Lyle Dylandy (irresoluteness) and Lockon Stratos (haroicsacrifice)
Summary; Well, if the truth curse couldn't do it, this will.
Log; Truthfully, he doesn't understand this feeling as it comes up and overwhelms him. It hits him when he wakes up, when he takes a drag off his cigarette and haphazardly makes eggs. It's the first time he's felt it since he's come back; there's been the weight of disappointment since returning, the feeling of arriving back without Anew waiting for him or even the petty spats with his brother. The latter would return with the arrival of Neil himself, but he became used to that feeling of normalcy. Living with the dead—it's like living in the past, but he's realized there's no problem with embracing aspects of the past, in understanding those aspects, as long as he's willing to look to the future.

But that doesn't make it easy.

For some reason, this feeling makes it easy. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he grabs his network device, half-tempted to share the feeling with others. But he stops, fingers pressing against the power button. How he feels—he knows Neil wouldn't want that aspect portrayed to all. For all his brother's expertly exerted warmth, there's a sense of privacy there. It's all a little too sugarcoated, a little too easy. In some ways, it isn't all that different from Lyle's ease of words and mocking sensibilities, only on the opposite end of the spectrum. Neil pretends he's okay so no one pays attention; Lyle pretends that there's nothing to be okay about. Of the two, neither of them know how to cope. Coping is something they do in private. Admitting things, feeling things, pushing those forward for all to see—that has to happen in private, too. There's only one way to do that, and it doesn't involve dialing his brother's number and asking him to meet him somewhere. It's better to go to the source, and even if it corners Neil—because Neil, like Lyle, is just as guilty of avoiding him at times—it's better. This is something Lyle needs him to know.

Lyle chuckles easily to himself as he pulls on his clothes and starts out of his place, jogging down the steps until he's on his way to where the rest of the Meisters live. (He realizes, instantly, that he's happy that they're there, too, and happy they have these stolen moments with the Lockon who gave a name to live up to.) The jog is unusual for him, but he slows to a trot as he hits the front of the building and heads inside. A hand clumsily fiddles with his pants pocket to pull out a slender cigarette to tuck into his mouth, and after lighting it—the flick of the lighter seems to echo down the hallway—he inhales a bit of smoke, and then raises his free hand (having tucked away the lighter) up to knock on the door.

Comments

[haroicsacrifice.livejournal.com]

In most households, Lyle would be taking a risk showing up out of the blue and knocking like that. Any of them could answer, right? Not right, in this case. It's always exponentially more likely to be Lockon than Tieria or Setsuna.

Except in this case, when Lockon opens the door, it's his brother standing there, and in an instant he isn't Lockon Stratos anymore, but only Neil Dylandy. That's always how it's been with Lyle, and that's why he's avoided him in the past.

Now--

Now there's still a big part of him that wants to avoid his brother. It's easier just knowing he's safe, right? (But he isn't; people can't ever really be safe.) Except Neil knows he won't get another chance, and he's learned a little about taking hold of chances and making the right decision with them. Only a little, mind you. It's still difficult.

Neil leans on the frame of the door and gives Lyle a bemused smile. "Did you get lost? No, I know. You came to get Haro back. Well, he's settled in with me now. And this is a non-smoking apartment," he adds firmly.

[irresoluteness.livejournal.com]

"There aren't many chances to have someone smoking here," Lyle retorts easily. But all the same, he takes a step back and peers inside curiously. "But that's just your way of looking out for me, isn't it?" He pulls the cigarette down and glances around. "I'll need something to put this out." It's rude to put it out on walls or even on the carpeted building floor. Regardless of how the deities likely perfect these places, it's still something to keep in mind.

It's strange—standing here before his brother, not having an excuse to be there except to genuinely be in his brother's company. Something in his mind is clicking that there's something wrong, but he's embracing the moment. For the first time since he arrived last March, the brief times gone excluded.

He adds, quickly, "I wouldn't want you to have Haro. I have enough time with him back home."

[haroicsacrifice.livejournal.com]

It clicks faster for Neil that something is wrong. He's always the one to pick up that sort of thing--most of the time. When he doesn't get it completely wrong. Or when he doesn't get it right, but somehow also totally wrong in the process. Like so:

"Huh?" He leans in a little, frowning quizzically. "Oh, you're cursed. It's too bad, but that's not something I could have protected you from in the first place. And it could be worse." He's not actually sure what today's curse is yet, but he knows it's not anything very dangerous. He heard about the earlier curses, the ones he missed: it seems those were the nasty ones for the month, so far.

(He's glad he missed them. He's glad he wasn't here for the forgiveness curse. Second chances or no, he'll never be ready for some things.)

"The one cigarette won't hurt," he finally says. "And I wouldn't want to take advantage of you being cursed. That wouldn't be fair."

[irresoluteness.livejournal.com]

"You think too much to take advantage of me while I'm cursed," Lyle says, not realizing the way his phrasing is (when he usually would take hold of a joke like that). "I think you ought to let me in, though. You shouldn't be so surprised that I'm here."

The phrasing, the way he's figured things out and sorted them into one place, doesn't stop Lyle in his tracks like it usually would. Some part of his brain is critically tearing this apart, pushing him toward snapping, but it's behind a door, locked away by the processes that are made by the curse. He's glad that his brother's logic is a little off, glad that he's unable to understand that he's happy. Happy that his brother is there, happy that his brother is a bit of an idiot sometimes.

It's just something he's had a hard time showing until now.

[haroicsacrifice.livejournal.com]

For all that Neil is the more innocent one in some ways (and less, in so many others, as he always wanted it to be), he still picks up on that lapse. The faintest of frowns passes over his face as he steps aside, gesturing for Lyle to come in. "No inappropriate jokes? Maybe you're not just cursed, you're sick, too."

Playfully, he lifts a hand to try to put it to Lyle's forehead, but of course that's no use and wouldn't be much better even if he didn't have the gloves on. All the living here feel fever-hot to him. But it's a relief, to faintly feel that heat from Lyle. He needs the tangible reassurance that even if nothing else went as he planned, at least his brother is still alive.

"Go ahead and sit down," he says, instead of voicing any of those thoughts. "Tieria's busy and Setsuna's at work, so we can talk."

It feels strange to say that: so we can talk. When have they ever done that, really?