ROKUROU ᴍᴀʟᴇᴠᴏʟᴇɴᴛ ᴅɪᴄᴋ RANGETSU (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
swordhardy) wrote2021-03-18 09:35 pm
swordhardy) wrote2021-03-18 09:35 pmEntry tags:
NOCT OVERFLOW
OVERFLOW & EVENTS
swordhardy) wrote2021-03-18 09:35 pm
5
( is what he had grumbled when he had found the red string tied around his pinky finger, trailing along the floor and out the crack of the partially-open sliding glass door, allowing the sunlight, light breeze, and briny scent of the ocean in to the room. great. just the sort of thing he wants to worry about, on top of his pounding headache, riotous stomach, and general state of complete disarray which still requires investigating to solve several very important questions. like... where the hell his phone went. and whose cabana he'd woken up in? he'd woken up alone, mind (he's not quite ready for the fallout which would've accompanied if he hadn't), but the place wasn't familiar in the slightest and the walls were covered in memorabilia and photos of one of the gem natives he'd never seen before.
or, at least, he's pretty sure he hadn't... god, he hopes it'd just been a good samaritan who had just offered him the place for the night and not him having broken in...
the odds for that don't look good, considering he has seemingly lost his shirt at some point last night but gained a replacement that had been cause for concern. he doesn't even know where to start. he wants to blot out all the light from the windows, curl up in a corner somewhere, and pray for unconsciousness until he wakes up and feels a little bit less like he was receiving a divine punishment from god.
a red thread of fate? really? in shinsou's mind the connotations are immediately romantic, and there's no helpful local around to steer him in a less anxiety-inducing direction. can he just ignore it? that's the leading solution in his mind for all of this — ignore it and just focus on the basics of breathing in and then out until he feels well enough to at least try to find his phone.
oh, if only he could be so lucky. the individual on the other end of the string is following it to its source, which meant: along the beach, toward one particular cabana in a row of the same, up a few wooden stairs and onto the small porch where the aforementioned sliding glass door was slightly ajar into a dim room. there's a key still in the lock, half-turned. that has to be enough of an invitation, right? though if rokurou decided to open the door any further, he will find shinsou, clearly hungover, sitting on the floor with his back propped up against the bed and head resting against its edge — he'd fallen asleep on it, but woken up when he'd rolled off of it and only gotten so far as this before squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think as little as possible. hard to do when the door rumbles and rattles in its metal lane like an oncoming freight train, letting in a guillotine of bright, summer light. shinsou throws his arm over his eyes, half-turning away from the door. ) Ngh, ( oh, god, is it the owner of the cabana, come back home to a stranger?? can he pay him back??? he hasn't even checked to see if there any damages —
shinsou's usually pretty good with his polite platitudes, but for now, all he can manage is, ) ...Whatever it is, I can fix it. ( ??? )
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He notes the door left suspiciously ajar and the key still in its lock. Almost reassuring—because it brings him to two conclusions. Either the person rich enough to rent a beachfront cabana during a high tourist spike is an all out drunk (suitable) or it's a petty criminal who snuck the key from a loose pocket and helped themselves to the place (more suitable). It's dim enough that trying to squint past the glass plane doesn't work well, and the angles aren't quite right anyway.
By all accounts, the door is already open—so it isn't really breaking and entering to continue along (as if that would stop him anyway). Fingers hooking, the daemon slides it completely open, stepping inside for a better look. The string continues on, looping on the ground and winding its way to a pale hand—a hand he knows, he realizes belatedly, blinking owlishly at the crop of thick purple hair that belongs to that seemingly boneless body. It's a bonelessness any good lush knows, along with that particular edge of "if you kill me I may say thank you" exhaustion that comes on the cusp of a hangover gripe.
There's no way Shinsou rented this cabana. The kid might have some cash, but surely Rokurou would have heard some whisper of Shinsou getting some sweet beachfront digs, professional wandering bum he is. What's more—what is with that shirt? Everything about this beautiful scene screams I made a mistake. Before anything else, Rokurou pulls out his phone to snap a quick pic. ]
... Haha. [ stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him with a thud once he's established proof (for the corruption scrapbook, everyone gets one), Rokurou raises his threaded finger and gives it an approving nod. ] I understand completely. The gods wanted me to witness this day.
[ Before pressing his fist to his chin, eyes glistening with approval. ]
Your first bender........ I'm so proud of you.
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the first thing he hears is the shutter click of the communicator's camera. his eyes snap open, his posture shifting with a sudden jolt of guilt-spurred alarm. this is roughly around the same time he's hearing a very familiar laugh as his part-time roommate steps into the room and closes the door behind him. shinsou attempts a growl, but it mostly comes out as a half-choked gurgle. ) Delete it. ( instinctive. reflexive. delete it, or I'll make you, the authoritative tone of his voice seems to threaten, though for some reason the thought of using his quirk right now goes against the grain for him. instead he squints at the silhouette in front of what sunlight still streamed through the sliding glass door, attention catching in a snag on the red string that has suddenly grown very short: going directly from shinsou's hand to his own.
he'd managed to straighten up, no longer using the side of the bed as a make-shift backrest, but... eurgh. he slowly pitches to one side, eventually collapsing onto his shoulder in a heap. curls in a ball. rolls over toward the bed, almost as if he was considering beginning to wriggle underneath it (he definitely is).
why'd the string have to connect to rokurou of all people? it was going to be embarrassing no matter what, but now it's ... awkward in ways only shinsou thinks are awkward, most likely. in comparison to those self-conjured concerns, the link drawing them together just so the guy could bear witness to shinsou scraping the bottom of his parabolic fall from grace was almost preferable. at least he could extract some enjoyment from this, even if shinsou was once again thoroughly entertaining the idea of the earth doing him a favor and opening up to swallow him whole. )
Shut up, ( he groans. from his perspective he can't even see rokurou at this point, but he doesn't have to; the validation pours out of his tone, beaming almost as bright as the morning sun. ) 's nothing to be proud of.
( first one that you've seen, ro... you didn't see the state of him the morning after guanshan had taken him out drinking for the first time and decided to make a make-shift rhode island iced tea out of him. which only meant he should have known better, but... )
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[ Yes, one of them is thoroughly enjoying this, and it clearly isn't Shinsou. Rokurou watches as the boy stumbles, tilts, and then wills himself to become one with the earth with gleeful relish (and maybe a little bit of empathy), stupid smile plastered across his mouth the whole time the poor boy tries to find his footing and fails. It's cute. It's funny. It's a one in a lifetime experience—how often does a serious and diligent guy like Shinsou loosen up and let the wild side out?
Which is also exactly why Rokurou can't resist teasing on top of that terrible hangover. (He also did not delete that picture; we're going to hustle past that fact without acknowledging it whatsoever.) ]
We'll have to figure out how I'm going to let Guanshan down easy when your head's together.
[ Seeing as they've already jacked the cabana (with somehow Rokurou only being an accessory in this crime), the daemon steps into the petit kitchenette and rifles through the small drink fridge. Not much by the way of food to put in the kid's stomach but there are a few water bottles that haven't been cracked open yet. Grabbing one, he heads over to where Shinsou's withering on the floor like a discarded, browning banana peel. ]
C'mere.
[ That's the only warning Rokurou gives before gathering Shinsou by the scruff, using the collar of his ridiculous party boy shirt to hoist him back onto the bed and semi-upright. Not convinced that the young hero won't jus topple right back over without support, Rokurou sits down onto the bed beside them. Their shoulders bump as he hands over the bottle, having already helpfully twisted open the top to make it nice and easy. ]
Drink up. It'll help the headache. [ mouth tilting with a smile, he gently knocks his elbow into Shinsou's side, ] And when your throat's less dry, how about you tell me how you ended up here? You didn't rent a whole cabana, did you?
[ Maybe Shinsou is secretly filthy rich..... ]
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oh, that's wishful thinking.
he hadn't intended to get as wild as he had last night, and he isn't even sure how or why it had happened. he's vaguely aware of getting goaded into a drink, and then another, and then memories blur into a greasy smear of color, light, and sound until he had woken up this morning here. ugh... he has a lingering suspicion just as powerful as the hangover wracking his brain and his stomach that he's done some shit he's going to deeply regret as soon as he either remembers or finds out what it was. which is why maybe he shouldn't try. maybe he should just crawl under the bed and gently expire. )
Shut uppp. ( drawled, slightly muffled, from mostly under the bed. ) He's not gonna hear about this. Any of this!
( maybe if he says so, he will will it into existence.
but probably not.
he is dully aware of being left alone for a moment; rokurou's steps sound across the bedroom and disappear toward the rest of the cabana. he's not foolish enough to believe he'll actually leave him alone. sure enough, the footsteps return, and he's barely given a few seconds to prepare himself before he's unceremoniously grabbed by the scruff like an unruly puppy and hauled up from where he'd been on the floor back onto the bed. he looks pale and faintly green around the gills, the dark shadows under his eyes even deeper and more pronounced. his expression is indistinct and nebulously embarrassed; he blinks owlishly at the offered water bottle, overly aware of how close rokurou sits next to him on the edge of the bed. he doesn't mean to, but he does list sideways to lean into him, so rokurou had made the correct decision in sitting there.
he hums a vague response, reaching out and taking the water bottle from him. he unscrews the cap and lifts it to his lips to nurse a small sip of cold water; he exaggerates a flinch at the elbow directed into his side, looking sidelong to rokurou, his violet gaze guarded. he grumbles, the sound uncertain, and he replies after a brief moment of thought, ) I don't know. I can't - remember. ( he takes another shallow sip of water, pauses, and then lifts to press the cool water bottle against his forehead. ) I wouldn't've been able to afford... and it looks like someone lives here. ( maybe rents it out? or — no, he doesn't know. )
...I didn't break in, did I? ( his tone bristles with trepidation at the possibility. )
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He stays quiet when Shinsou begins to sip some water, watching him with that amusement stamped into the arch of his eyebrow and quirk of his mouth. Shinsou's sidelong glance is nothing but funny when he's tinted green, hair sticking up at odd(er) angles.
At the suggestion that someone lives here the daemon gives the room another scan. True enough, now that he isn't focused on Shinsou and his mesh shirt, it does look more stocked than your average weekend cabana might be stocked. Clothes, food, a bed, a desk... the more he picks up, the more obvious it becomes. It's not just a weekend getaway. More like a retirement settlement, someone living their best life just off the water, buying an expensive pad with their retirement savings. ]
Can't say since I wasn't there. [ which is—trrrruuuuue. a means of trying to gentle the blow of stark truth while Shinsou's nursing that hangover. ] Buuuuut you don't live here and there wasn't anyone here when I got in. No one outside either.
[ While rubbing his neck, Rokurou rolls his head, eyes rolling up at the ceiling in consideration. ]
Hmmmm ... maybe someone brought you back here since you were so drunk? Some people are nice enough to let you sleep it off. It's happened to me a few times. Sort of like a bar code, you know?
[ Editing and omitting quite a bit to keep the story PG—he seriously doubts Shinsou got drunk, let some girls do body shots off his pecs, and then went back to their apartment to fuck and then sleep. ]
If not, [ and it's the obvious likely answer that Shinsou broke in, ] we'll just apologize.
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he'd come to a similar conclusion that rokurou does, upon closer inspection of the cabana. shinsou groans, hanging his head — he appreciates the daemon doing his best to soften the blow of this possibility on his conscience and heroic sensibilities, though he has nagging doubts. )
Well... I've never broken into anywhere before. If I did, something would probably be - well. Broken.
( slowly, agonizingly, he gets to his feet. his footsteps are more like shuffling shambles; he makes his way to the sliding door, pushing it half-way open and taking a look at the porch outside, the steps leading down to the sand and the ocean. he can still see the footprints that rokurou had left, approaching this place. he doesn't see any broken glass or anything... and when he turns back toward the building, he sees the key stuck in the lock. ) Oh. ( he takes it out, showing it to rokurou.
if this was an instance of bar code or whatever, did some stranger give him the key to his place? that would be pretty generous, even for a gem to a gembonded. did he find it under a mat or a rock or something? he doesn't think he had been in any state to find much of anything besides trouble last night, but it's not impossible. if someone left a way into their house lying around, was it really breaking in...?
yes. yes, of course it was. fuck.
he slumps his way back over to half-sit and half-collapse next to rokurou, grunting at a starburst of pain behind his left eye. he presses the water bottle to his forehead again, fidgeting with the key between his fingers. ) Yeah. I guess there's all there is to do about it. 'S why I said I'd fix it... If anything is broken, I can pay. ( hopefully. no, jobless and withdrawn as he is, he isn't exactly flush with cash. it's around this point he realizes the state of what he's wearing. he freezes, sets the key aside, and pulls at the hem of the frankly ridiculous shirt. amazing. incredible! how much more embarrassing could it get!
...
wait. )
Rokurou. ( said in low undertone as he checks his (empty) pockets. ) Can you call my phone?
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His lips do purse to form a circle when Shinsou holds up the key. He hadn't noticed it when he came inside, but since the door hadn't been locked, it isn't terribly surprising. So either someone gave it to him or he found it outside beneath the mat—all in all, pretty innocent. The room is still in a perfectly fine state, not a puddle of vomit to be seen as proof that he had snuck in like goldilocks and slept in the bear's bed.
He's about to suggest they just leave since it doesn't look like anything's broken when the young hero freezes again. Curious, the daemon tilts his head, already fondling for the phone in his pocket. ]
Sure. [ tap tap tap, his phone lights up as it segues into connecting and ringing Shinsou's line, ] I figured those weren't your clothes. Think you swapped with someone?
[ Ah, does that mean his phone isn't here? That would be the biggest problem if so. ]
It's ringing.
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sure, the supposed crime afoot here is relatively victimless — he hasn't even managed to make much of a mess — but it's still breaking and entering, and shinsou is still enough of a boy scout that it makes him feel doubly sick to his stomach to think about.
so he has to believe a good samaritan had taken pity on him at some point in the wee hours of the morning (not too much of a stretch, given the state he is in now) and with great magnanimity extended the hospitality of their own home... or he had somehow managed to find or procure the key on his own. regardless, he's already planning on trying to make whatever restitution he can before he moves on from this place. )
Of course they're not, ( he mutters in half-undertone, sounding aghast. the only thing keeping him from scavenging an actual shirt from the dresser nearby is an aversion of doing any further Crime. ) I... think something happened to what I was wearing, so...
( his expression contorts; he's trying to remember, but... the details are a blur. why does fire keep registering when he tries to pry at that particular part of the evening?
"it's ringing." he waits. and waits... and waits a moment longer.
nothing. he groans, pinching at the bridge of his nose. )
I must've... left it somewhere, or - ran out of batteries, maybe...
( yeah, it's a Problem. )
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[ Or club or bonfire or wherever Shinsou ended up during the course of the night. There are plenty of party spots around, and even that doesn't discount the fact that he could have dropped it somewhere strange along the way between point A and point B. Or someone having taken it. Broken. Dropped in the ocean, forever lost. Snatched by some unknown stalker making a shrine to Shinsou and his magnificent shock of purple hair as they speak. ]
Uhhhh, you know what? Let's just get you a new one.
[ Or find it later, but no need to stress about that right now. Instead, Rokurou turns his attention back on to the more affronting piece of evidents: Shinsou's garish shirt. It might be distinct enough to stand out against the blur of the evening with a little bit of digging.
Plucking at the sleeve, ]
Focus on this instead. Does it jar any memories? Did you take it from here last night when you got in? [ ah............. ] You—don't tell me you went streaking...
[ Is this the type of drunk Shinsou's turned out to be?? Not impossible. It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for, they do say that. Maybe alcohol really makes the kid lose all his inhibitions and cut loose. Real loose. ]
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( not that it couldn't be brought back to life, of course, but...
he really doesn't want to think about having to get another one. out of vague curiosity he'd once looked up how much a replacement cost, and it was way out of his price range, even with how modest his current living expenses were (the main factor being that his level of manna generation was similarly modest, as if to keep pace with it). he would also squirm to have any help offered to him, so the best option by far at this point was to... try to backtrack and find it. or maybe someone could find it, charge it (if it needed it), and try to return it to him? that seems a little too optimistic to expect... )
I'd rather not... ( despairing...
he lists further and further away from rokurou at the tugging at his sleeve, crossing his arms (not that it really helps...) and looking perfectly aggrieved. he would really rather not focus on this either, but it's unavoidable at this point. he might not want to go out and buy another phone, but he might acquiesce to going out and buying a more functional and less critically embarrassing shirt. at first the only response he gives is a low, creaking groan from the back of his throat, but at rokurou's last suggestion, he turns to him sharply. ) Of course not!! ( he's seen what kind of drunk he is!! kind of. not that shinsou really drinks to excess all that often (usually only when around bad influences, cough cough). sure, his inhibitions tend to lower just the same as anyone else's, but he doesn't lose them all the way. and it would take nothing more than cataclysmic event to force him into something like streaking... )
I, ah, ( pinching the bridge of his nose again, brow furrowing as he tries to sift through the muddy parade of half-memories, ) I think something - happened to my other one. ( it definitely caught fire. either he was at a bonfire or... doing something less advisable and more dangerous. he can't recall, but maybe at some point. ) I think someone gave me this because it was, uh... better than nothing.
( that, and he probably hadn't cared quite as much then as he does now... )