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[ when it's about something like this... well, in the end, what really matters is the here-and-now; as gab is gently plopped on his lap, charles does look up at that, finally, smiling despite himself. as junpei settles next to him, he bumps their shoulders together, and then just... doesn't move away. or, well, it's perhaps less not moving away and more actively leaning against him, really, but. details! ]

Thanks, [ he says, soft and out loud, too, before it's back to the tablets, because somehow this whole thing is easier like that — ]

him especially.

[ for a moment, it seems that's it, especially as charles reaches out to scratch behind gab's ears for a second, but, ]

hey

what if whatever everyone decides to do... actually does send us back home

[At least Gab can sleep right through all of this, Junpei thinks. Even the trip to Charles barely stirs the little dog, and god, but if only they could all live such a simple life here.

Someday, maybe. Junpei blinks- oh, so they are still doing this on the tablet, alright- and sighs, because now it's heavier than just the immediate future, isn't it? He's thought about it, of course, how could he not think about it— even beyond the jumble of feelings he has, going from seeing Charles every day to going home without him is... hmm.

Well, he's not a fan. He plunks his head down on Charles' shoulder before he can tell himself not to.]

it's 5 years, right? we'll see each other again. you'll have to outdo me, i'm really good at finding people.

[He'll take up being a PI again just for this, duh—]

you don't think i'd just let you go, do you? like hell.

[ he doesn't know if it's a relief or not that junpei immediately sees to the heart of the matter — but the sort-of-there weight of his head on his shoulder does help, reminds him that whatever awaits them, at least they're still here.

and god, but he never thought that thinking of going home would be something he'd think of with apprehension. ]

five for me, yeah. hopefully less for you. and if i can't find you then all you have to do is send a letter. i told you, yeah? there's a postman, you just... ask for him, i guess, and he'll show up.

... or just text crystal. might be easier.

[ he pauses, then, lets the side of his cheek rest against junpei's head, sighing. ]

you know it's the same for me, don't you? i don't care if i have to turn the world around, or open another door to hell, or whatever else. not when it's about you.

well it's not, like, a case. i mean i'm still gonna hire you to punch a guy straight to hell, but before that.

and i have to look cool for your friends? no pressure.

[Not that texting Crystal and looking cool are synonymous, but they're also not mutually exclusive-! How is he, little syzygy weirdo, going to appear cool and collected while texting a stranger? "um hi is charles there"—he feels twelve already.

But those are details, and if he's being honest, they don't even have any guarantee that any of this - the AI, the reset-or-not, going home - will even work in the first place. So the details are fun to think about, at the same time Charles' sigh just above him makes his heart ache. He really can't stand the thought of losing this—losing them, whatever it is that they have.]

i'll try to stay out of hell.....but thanks. hopefully whatever bullshit decision everyone makes, it doesn't screw us up too badly. but i'll definitely find you, no matter how long it takes. i promise.

[He holds up his pinky finger and gives it a wiggle; get in on this pinky swear, bud.]

oi, you're plenty cool! besides, i'd tell her who you are, obviously.

[ and well — somehow, he can immediately see how it'd go, because he'd have five years to talk about junpei until crystal would surely be sick of his stories, so... all he'd need to do would be to text with his name, and crystal would go "oh my fucking god, finally," and that'd be that.

charles can even hear her say it.

and all that — well, all that is so much better to think about than the other what-ifs, the possibility that no matter what they do, they won't be able to find each other again, and that? yeah, that hurts worse than richard's iron sword did.

but as much as it burns, it isn't so much that the promise, so freely given, doesn't soothe it. as he lifts his hand and links their pinkies together, he can't help but breathe out something like a laugh, like the sound is pushed out by the wave of overwhelming fondness (and more, really, it's been more for months now) he feels. and as he lets his hand fall back down, he doesn't really think (a core flaw of his, that, at least according to those who know him), then; simply turning his head a little from where he's still leaning against junpei's, so that he can press a light, barely-there kiss to the mess of hair at his hairline. ]

i'll hold you to that, yeah? and i promise, too. whether the time we have here is days or weeks or years... well. no version of this i'm not gonna fight the fucking universe if i need to. if it means finding you.

you think i'm cool, you mean.

[Will all of his friends agree? Remains to be seen! Junpei can name the people who think he's cool on one hand, he thinks, and if there are more people they should probably tell him already—

But that's still nothing more than a silly distraction from the looming dread of whatever's going to happen to this place pretty soon. Not that he doesn't appreciate the declaration, and somehow he believes it, that Charles would find a way to fight the universe to get back to him. There's a part of him that wants to be a pessimist despite himself, that wants to nip this whole conversation in the bud and get real before he starts getting really attached to the idea, but, well...

Well, it's too late for that, if he's being honest. He wants it too much to pretend otherwise, no matter how much his inner pessimist rolls his eyes. That and he's pretty sure that was Charles kissing his head a second ago, but was it actually? He's already too deep in this whole fight-the-universe fantasy, so is he just imagining things, oh no, it's been several seconds, he can't just ask, ah—

He drops the phone, which is to say, he puts the phone down on his lap and ignores where it goes after that while he sinks further sideways into Charles with a sigh, head turning to press into his shoulder. Kiss or no kiss, this is - not many people have cared about him this much; what else can he do but get overwhelmed and curl up like an emotional pillbug? Give him a second.]

You're too much. [....muffled,] Even if most people here would flip out about being here that long... I wouldn't mind years.

[And nobody has to go to hell! Perfect.]

[ is it unlikely, the promise they've made? sure. it's fanciful, at best — what are the odds of it all, after all, them being able to find each other even outside of the simulation? but charles doesn't really care; it means too much to him — junpei means too much to him — for him to not be willing to do whatever it takes, bend realities, just to be able to find him again. it may sound impossible... but it's not impossible if he manages to do it.

carefully, he sets his phone aside before he wraps his arms around junpei, simply holding him as he sinks against his side; his other arm can't quite reach more than the side of his shoulder, not without him shifting in place and risking waking up gab; so he gives up and instead lifts his hand, cards his fingers through junpei's hair once, twice. like this, it's all too easy to imagine that this, them, means the same to junpei as it does to him — that this state of limbo exists for both of them.

and really, it's hard for him to imagine junpei doesn't know. it's not like charles has been particularly subtle as of late — he knows he could have done better at hiding this, really, knows he's not half-bad when he tries, knows just how to be convincing enough... and yet, every passing day the idea that junpei might not know exactly how much he means to charles gets a little bit more unbearable.

never quite so bad he'd need to say something, though. never quite that bad... because at least like this, there's still plausible deniability — the limbo of his own choosing. ]

... Yeah. Me either. [ and maybe junpei just means it in general, maybe he means it because of all the fucking murder games and shifting from his home... but with him curled up into his side, his head pressed against his shoulder, well. charles thinks he's excused for letting hope burn in his chest for just a moment.

they stay like that, silent, for a moment that keeps stretching on, until charles says, quiet, ]

There's — I talked to this lady, yeah? Root. She asked for my help with the terminals. So when the orders come in... I'm gonna go.

[Oh, and that's nice, and Junpei wouldn't mind staying just like this for a while yet. Charles' fingers in his hair make it much easier to think this is just a normal day, without all of the tension of people yelling at each other online, without the big decisions to be made, just a normal day for a normal—normal pair of platonic friends.

Sure.

He'll get there. Charles' decision to go off to the terminals both doesn't surprise him at all and makes his heart sink, just a bit. He doesn't say anything for a moment, letting it sink in, then,]

That figures. I mean, yeah, of course you would. [Even after the way people treated him on the network, of course he's going to help—] You're too good, you know.

[Far too good, so is it any wonder Junpei has gotten so attached? He isn't going fucking anywhere; he's tired of making big decisions and having to decide the fate of the world, so he's going to sit right here and hold onto Gab and... just sit here, he supposes. But Charles is good and dedicated and loyal, and Junpei couldn't possibly begrudge him for helping, no matter how many people have written him off as not "counting" by virtue of being a ghost.

But he's still not starting slapfights online, so. Mmph.]

Just, uh, before you go, come say bye, okay? [He's going to worry, but he'd like to worry with as much information as possible, if he can-] How long do you think it'll take?

[ he can't help it, the soft exhale of relief — he'd feared two things equally, junpei objecting to him going, and insisting on coming, too... and yet he does neither, his words those of quiet acceptance, and charles allows himself a second or two to think of just how bloody lucky he is, that junpei would simply understand his reasons without him having to spell them out —

and then he's shaking his head, because too good? him? hah. yeah, right. that's the only thing he does to object to those words, though; this isn't the moment, not now, as little as he believes them... but maybe it's okay that junpei believes them for him. ]

Hey, yeah. Of course I will. [ he says this like it's a foregone conclusion — like there's no world where he doesn't come see him before leaving. ]

Not sure. Depends on where I get sent, I guess. If it's outside Aldrip... it's a couple days to get there, and then however long it takes for everyone to get to the terminals. [ two, three days, perhaps, then — it's his best guess, in any case. and that's not taking into account whatever is out there.

but he doesn't want to think about all the ways things can go wrong, out there, not yet. his arm tightens around junpei and he sighs, his other hand resuming its motion of running through his hair. ]

Junpei, [ and there's really no need for charles to say his name, except for wanting to — and god if his voice isn't making a gold medal effort of balancing tiredness with tenderness, there, ] Think we could... stay like this? Just for a minute.

[ because just for a while (a minute, yes, or two, or however long he is afforded), he doesn't want to think — doesn't want to look at the messages waiting for him on his phone, doesn't want to think about the terminals, or the world slowly dying around them, or anything that exists outside of the two of them, here with each other, gab snoring away in charles' lap.

because just for a while, he wants to pretend nothing else matters but them. ]

[More uncertainty, then, in the number of days; Junpei supposes he'll resign himself to a couple days of sulking about it, and sitting on his hands every time he wants to text Charles and see if he's alright out there. Much as he's strongly not getting involved, he doesn't want to jeopardize whatever's going to happen out there by being needy in people's texts.

So it'll be fine. Probably. He'll have stress-named every cabinet in the house by the time Charles is done out there, most likely, and Gab will absolutely be sick of him. It'll be fine. He hopes it will, anyway, in a fresh wave of both fondness and dread as Charles runs fingers through his hair once more. It's that small motion of all things that makes the bottom drop out of his stomach for fear of losing it.

Could they stay like this? He wants nothing more, the shape of it wrapping around his heart and clawing at the back of his throat, a prickling tightness, and maybe he should say something about what he feels— Maybe this is the last chance, or maybe it isn't, or maybe saying something right now would be a complication when Charles has already committed to going off and doing his heroics, or...

Well. It's too much to think about. He makes a soft noise and shifts slightly, to wiggle an arm around Charles' back and reach for Gab with the other, to give him a little scritch while the dog snuffles in his sleep.]

Yeah. Nowhere else I'd rather be.

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this 🎀 is the gayest yet