[Grief is the strangest feeling. Knowing there are things you need, comforts, essentials, and also feeling guilty for taking little things that help...it's a combination he's never going to get used to. Mikey leans against him and an arm instinctively goes around his shoulder. It's-- it's that twin feeling of wanting to move on and wanting to feel sad, and he has no idea what to do with it.
Instead, he tries to focus on what they're both saying. Words-- at least they make sense, when nothing else does. He can pull apart a conversation and put it back together, trace the line of how they got to where they are. No feelings involved.]
I like to stay busy. [It's an admission; the model kits and paper cranes have yet to make a large appearance in Aldrip, but it's no less true here.] Cooking and cleaning help me think.
(he's almost in slow motion, a limbo in existence as he gently, too softly in each circular motion against yu's skin. he's going to pass out as soon as they're out the tub, they both know it, but for now, he's valiantly holding on as he takes up the responsibility of cleaning them of the mess they started.
[Yu exhales, a sound that might be a tired, mirthless chuckle. Whether Mikey is being serious about the requirement or not, he's weirdly glad for that turn of phrase. The challenge in it. He can't say no to something like that.]
(no energy anymore after they've both been soaped up, so the first bottle he finds (conditioner, not shampoo, oops, that's what happens when you don't look what you grab) is handed to yu. take care of their hair, is the quiet order that he gives as his lips goes to kiss skin. lazy, lazy, lazy.)
[Yeah, no, that won't do; the bottle goes back, and Yu shuffles around until he finally picks out the shampoo. He starts with the other boy first, softly running soapy fingers through wet hair.]
(mikey is half asleep why aren't you impressed that he actually is somewhat functional enough to give an order and the means?????????!?!?!?!
either way, he'll allow it. it has always been others who took care of his hair, anyway, so it just feels good. his arms wrap around yu's neck, the little kisses still present, which means some of the shampoo might end up on yu... and he's too sleepy to notice...)
(a laugh. that... soothes. it soothes more than the bath, more than the fatigue after anger, and it makes him laugh a little more, taking more of the shampoo to lather on yu's hair, making sure it's now a big white helmet.)
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EXPIATION
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Instead, he tries to focus on what they're both saying. Words-- at least they make sense, when nothing else does. He can pull apart a conversation and put it back together, trace the line of how they got to where they are. No feelings involved.]
I like to stay busy. [It's an admission; the model kits and paper cranes have yet to make a large appearance in Aldrip, but it's no less true here.] Cooking and cleaning help me think.
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(he's almost in slow motion, a limbo in existence as he gently, too softly in each circular motion against yu's skin. he's going to pass out as soon as they're out the tub, they both know it, but for now, he's valiantly holding on as he takes up the responsibility of cleaning them of the mess they started.
shampoo-- somewhere.)
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Challenge accepted.
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either way, he'll allow it. it has always been others who took care of his hair, anyway, so it just feels good. his arms wrap around yu's neck, the little kisses still present, which means some of the shampoo might end up on yu... and he's too sleepy to notice...)
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Yu needs things to do, right now, and this fits the bill -- or it did, until Mikey shoved a head-ful of shampoo in his face.]
Mmf-- [ugh, now he has soap in his mouth.] Hey, careful.
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but the littlest gremlin chuckle comes out of him, lazy, so it's a 'he... hehe... hehe... ke...'. he knows what he has done.)
I'm helping you grow a beard.
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Trying to make me look like Santa Claus?
[get it cause of the gray...]
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(a laugh. that... soothes. it soothes more than the bath, more than the fatigue after anger, and it makes him laugh a little more, taking more of the shampoo to lather on yu's hair, making sure it's now a big white helmet.)
... Maybe by next Christmas.
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[Somehow, he is approaching this soap helmet with an utterly deadpan expression.]
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(fine, fine. he'll go through the process of washing it off, a peck on yu's lips to tell him he's done with that.)
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I'm fine with that. It's mostly just an excuse for tradition, anyway.