tinylittlebox | day 235 ● an empathy test

Entry tags:

● imeeji ● emotion share

day 235 ● an empathy test

Wednesday:
☑ Blade: restraint; blindfold; food (9 pt)
☑ Cobalt: food; movie; hug; pampering; teaching (8 pt)
☑ Hiryuu: worries (3 pt)
☑ Hurricane: never have i ever (3 pt)
☑ Levi: hug; hair washing (4 pt)
☑ Moxie: hug; worries; activity (7 pt)
☑ Sabre: hold hands; confession (6 pt)
☑ Shrike: hold hands (1 pt)
☑ Thorn: piercing; hug (6 pt)
☑ Yugi: hold hands; learning (2 pt)

K:
☑ A: worries (3 pt)
☑ D.Va: confession; hold hands; fast car; activity (12 pt)
☑ Hiryuu: stab (5 pt)
☑ Hurricane: confession (5 pt)
☑ Skylark: fight; broken rib (10 pt)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He's trying not to? Trying not to look at all]

[But he's bad at that, too; it's bad and messy, and all of this is a giant mess, jesus, he shouldn't be here, none of this is going to end well, everyone going to know, he doesn't want them to know]

...yeah, sounds like a plan.

C'mon, let's get out of here.

Yeah... yeah. There's gotta be somewhere else to be.

[Okay, where's the doors. Let's head to the doors.

[Focus on that.]

Is this what it's like, then? That power? Seems like a fucking hassle to me.

...dunno. Would you believe I never used it?

[Cause you're a coward, is why. Because you didn't want anyone to see this, god what a mess it is inside here, and now it's leaking out anywhere, and he's going to know, he's going to see,]

Seemed like more trouble than it was worth.

You ain't wrong.

[Because--

[--because it's like that fucking soul diving, isn't it? Except you ain't even got parables. Everything's just sort of there, ready or not, why not go through my underwear drawer while you're at it good Christ why now I said I was fine--]

... sorta feels like having someone show up when you left all your shit everywhere, and you ain't got time to kick it under the bed, and - they're gonna come in anyway...

[He's been walking quickly, to get them outside: now, in the elevator, with nothing to do but wait, he shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at the number gauge. Why is this the one of these games they didn't even hand out sandwiches?]

Stupid. What a stupid fucking idea for a game.

[Folds his arms in against his chest, body language radiating unease as much as the rest of him]

For real. This is worse than the truth ones, even.

At least those you can just not answer. I think... this one pissed a lot of people off. B--

[K breaks off. No, fuck the game, he can still grant B his privacy even if literally everyfuckingthing else is trying very hard not to.]

I know he isn't happy. Don't think anyone is except like maybe - the same three girls who are too goddamn nice to be anywhere near this place.

[At least the elevator is done with its shit and lets them free. The mood doesn't feel quite so heavy, now it's got a bit more space to spread out.]

[As very least, there's not quite so many emotions crowding in from all sides. Tentative, somewhere down under all the anxiety, there is a tendril of relief]

B looked like he was having a rough time.

[Concern, and regret]

Yeah... he's gone back to the dorms for a bit. Think he's gonna figure something out with Gold.

[No, he's not envious

[That's not envy

[... might be nice to be able to tune all the rest of it out. Keep the important stuff in. To... not have to shove all of that into a box and then shove that box to the back of your mind because fuck knows neither of them need to be dealing with it right now--

[K's starting to think he missed a bit, because this sure don't feel like repressed to him. Fuck sake, whatever your name is, get it together.]

Guess they'll figure something out.

...yeah. S'good if they can sort it out in private. Maybe he can camp out in the dorm till it's done, or something.

[a quiet ping of interest - then shame, as he tries to look away from something that's not meant to be there at all]

Where you think they got booze, anyway? The closest place, I mean.

We can just hit up any conbini now, right? There's a Family Mart just up the road...

[Focus on that.

[Except... this is kinda distracting, now, because now he can't pretend he's latching onto anybody-else-nearby and he's getting... weird reads. Interference. Things that shouldn't be there, perhaps stuff that Hurricane's trying to shove back under the bed, too, and it's - distracting, dammit.]

At least if we both drink till we pass out or something we don't have to do the rest of this. Christ, all they want is someone to commit a really stupid murder. For bullshit points. They could've left the rest of us out of it. So much for 'fundamental understanding'.

[A lurch of something, at the suggestion of drinking until this is all something distant and much softer. Hope, maybe? Threaded through, under all the anxiety]

They coulda done a different game, if they wanted more fights.

I thought fights were all they ever wanted.

[No. That's not true.]

I mean... I wish it was. This'd be so much simpler, if we could all just - I dunno. If we didn't have to go and start--

[We did a fight, once. That was pretty simple.

[Guess who went and caught feelings.]

If I...

[And so much for keeping it in.]

[Oh, wow, we have upgraded to a new flavor of anxiety, good job]

[This one, on top of all the rest, twists around a central pillar of jesus christ can we not right now, that is as much a mess as everything else, I can't begin to untangle that, I can't begin to untangle that in front of him, there is no way this is going to go well, there is no way this is going to go well,]

[When he speaks again, it's a little strangled:]

Hey, look, there's a conbini.

... yeah.

[I did that, didn't I.

[Christ. This is bloody stupid, what is he doing. Should be running in the opposite-fucking-direction not trying to go off somewhere alone. Stupid, stupid, stupid--]

Sorry.

[I've gone and made it fucking weird.]

Don't be, dude.

[Even if the internal alarms are still sounding; even if the anxiety feels like it's climbing up to crush his chest again. Even if there's a thrill of shame, hot and sudden and insidious]

S'all me. Gimme, like - gimme a few. Kay?

I...

[God. Go figure why he's scared--

[There aren't enough boxes in the world to stuff these feelings in, not when he's terrified he's blown it completely and why oh why did he ever think there was an it to shoot down in flames anyway?]

Sure. I - Christ, I'm sorry, this'd be so much easier if I didn't like you so much--

[Because why the fuck would you like me back?

[Have you met me?]

[Oh]

[That's]

[But he does? It's in there, a small doki, a thread of interest. Then a rush of embarrassment when he realizes it's come to the forefront, a wave of apology after that, and of shame, and something flustered, unsettled, uncertain]

[The anxiety is stronger than before, somehow, creeping up near to panic]

You don't - you don't gotta say sorry.

Don't I?

[Is he misreading this?

[He definitely felt - something, but...]

I thought - I was freaking you the fuck out. And you know I get it it's okay? I've done this like three times now it's gotta be getting stupid, like is any of this worth doing when I won't just - take a hint and back off or something and - and it's gotta be getting old.

[K couldn't look at him. Stupid, this is stupid and it must be all over his face, mustn't it, how much he just wants this anyway and what right does he have, have you met yourself, K? Why would anyone--

[Now he makes himself.]

Right?

I've been making this weird for months.

You ain't making it weird.

[There's a different kind of unease, now, and a bright spark of pain, when he digs his fingernails into the palm of his hand]

[The anxiety is about as crushing as it was when he first realized there was emotionshare on in the first place, some unpleasant feedback loop that goes: the same thread of interest, with embarrassment slipping in after, then the impulse to close it down and back away, shame when he can't, and a rush of something apologetic, with still more anxiety.]

We were gonna - see. Right?

What happened.

Are you okay?

[Yeah.

[That's why he can't just walk away. Stupid. Stupid. K's got one hand out, even, an awkward inch or two from Hurricane's wrist. Because he doesn't like to see him like this, because he wants to somehow keep him from the worst of it, because he likes him too much.]

I - look. I don't wanna make this any worse for you. I - kinda thought maybe it'd help if we got out of it. Because...

Because I don't care. You know? I mean I care, I wanna be here for you, but... I don't care what's... on the other end of this. I like you. I ain't seen anything yet that's made me stop. I still haven't. I...

You don't have to be different.

[Something apologetic, stronger now, a sickening sort of wave that comes with more anxiety. He's messing it up, he should be holding it together but instead here's K, worrying because he's a goddamn mess inside]

Wh-

[He stops; swallows]

What do you mean, be different.

Don't be.

[He doesn't know what to do with his face, his hands. The only thing K understands is that he needs to look at him.]

I mean... I like you. Now. Not - what you could be, or what you ought to be whatever the fuck that is or - any of that shit. If you got baggage, it's okay. I'm... God. I'm no better.

You ain't gotta tidy up first.

[The response isn't any less complicated, any less messy]

[It's some twisting kind of surge, of denial that K is a mess - K is fine, K is better than fine K is - or that Hurricane doesn't need to tidy up. (There's something under that, something that runs cold and deep, the tip barely brushing the surface before he shoves it down - something ugly and tangled about exactly what Hurricane thinks of himself, but he scrambles away from thinking about that so fast it leaves him reeling)]

Then... then, what.

Then nothing, if you want it to be.

[It hurts, but it's true: if he doesn't want this, doesn't want anything from him but what they have or - or less, less still - then that's what it's gonna be, isn't it? Because anything else would be--he recoils from it. It's fucking repellent. If you feel like this about someone, if you - if you love someone but they don't feel the same... then you have to love them by walking away. End of story, that's all she wrote.]

I'm not gonna tell you how to feel about me. All I got is - what I feel. And if that's all it is then - then it's my problem.

[You love him, don't you?

[Fuck.]

[That's]

[That]

[He's so taken off guard he feels blind-sided, like someone tripped him going down the stairs]

[It's enough to put a hiccup in the feedback loop of anxiety-apology-panic, but it's - flustered, and uncertain, and he isn't sure what to do with it]

[Somewhere underneath, there's a thread of interest, a rush of embarrassment - curiosity and what can only be a crush, flustered and uncertain]

[But love is]

[Big]

[Love is a lot, and he doesn't know what to do with that]

day 235 ● an empathy test

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