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 Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2020 4:07 pm
It was technically a day off, but he had his phone tucked in his pocket just in case they called him to pick up hours. He still had a hard time turning them down for that; even when he was exhausted, he wanted that extra bit of money stashed away just in case. Even then, he couldn’t quite bring himself to sit down when there were so many things to do around the house, in today’s case, literally AROUND the house. He was wearing a racerback tank top and some well ‘loved’ jeans so he could work on chopping out a patch of briars that might once have been well-loved roses. They had long since gotten so leggy and thorny that they were more like sleeping beauty’s nightmare than anything adding appeal to the yard. Maybe if he trimmed them back enough, they might be pretty again, but for right now, he was considering ‘free the back fence’ his goal. He was covered in little scratches for it, but it was too hot to go in with long sleeves, and the gloves were only marginally helpful against the curve of the red-tipped thorns. He half wished they’d been berry bushes honestly; then they could have eaten fresh berries. There was something you could do with rose hips too, he remembered. Some kinds of jelly and such, but he’d never had it, so he was vaguely suspicious of the idea. He might still try talking Sterling into making it, just to see. Maybe this way, too, he could catch a glimpse of the Ex who had sent Sterling into such a panic spiral. He really wanted to size this b*****d up…
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2020 5:00 pm
At first, there wasn't anything to really take in about the house next door; there were no decorations, no personalizations, nothing different about the house now that someone new was living there.
It looked the same as it always had--except, perhaps, the back yard had been cleaned up a bit, and there was an three tiered table that was neatly organized with an array of herbs. They were clearly well tended to and some of them didn't look like they were new. Someone had been tending to them for a while--and then decided now was a good time to grow the collection.
Ilya's car was in the driveway--the only indication that he was home. There were no lights on in the house now and no noise ever seemed to come from it.
For a while, it seemed like it might as well have been abandoned--until the back door opened. Ilya had his hair tied up very neatly, in a thick bun that looked like he had worked very hard to make sure none of his wavy white hair would slip loose. It was clear he had quite a bit of hair; when it wasn't up, it fell to roughly mid-back.
Even for someone who must have been going out to tend to a bit of gardening, he was dressed neatly. He had on neat black pants, probably too expensive for yard work, and a black button down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, but he was wearing immaculate gardening gloves, that were either constantly cleaned or never used. He had boots--also too clean to be something for gardening. And yet, he acted like this was normal.
He did not approach with any hesitation; he had sunglasses atop his head, a watering can in one hand, and bag and spade in his other.
He did not cast Sterling's house a single glance, just seemed to be focused on his task. In fact, it seemed more like he was doing his best to completely avoid it. He made absolutely ever effort to keep his eyes focused on only his back yard, like the mere idea of looking over at Sterling's might cause some great catastrophe.
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2020 5:23 pm
God… he was so clean; who the hell gardened like that? Rich, he felt like he could safely assume that the man was from money to be dressed so neatly and… He shut that train of thought down as hard as he could, snapping the clippers hard into branches of brambles. He promised -not- to kill the b*****d, and if he started talking to him, he was probably going to. … clip the briars, that was all. He clipped at a particularly lofting arch of them that ran overhead and realized a moment too late that he’d miscalculated the branches would be the trajectory. In contrast, he’d assumed it would fall nicely to one side, as he’d come at it from an angle, there was a slender curl of grapevine or some other trailing, curling plant that neatly tugged it towards him instead. “Mother FU—“ He started to swear, biting it back as the arm of brambles hooked into the back of his shirt. He hissed through his teeth and hoped that the a*****e Didn’t ask any questions. He was NOT presenting himself to the b*****d right after being a damn fool. “ow ow ow…” He hissed through his teeth, arching his shoulders and trying to reach back with the clippers to catch hold of the stem and pry himself free. “Stabby buggering son of a…”
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2020 6:22 pm
There were two choices, and both of them were bad.
Ilya heard a commotion and it was his immediate instinct to want to offer assistance. But that was Sterling's house, where he very clearly was not wanted, and he had made enough trouble just by trying to be a friendly neighbor.
...And then he'd sent Sterling into a panic attack and been asked to just leave him there. The reasonable thing to do had been to oblige, and then to pull out his computer, use his phone for a hot spot, and immediately start looking for new places to move. He'd been sitting on his floor, frantically looking for somewhere cheap to stay while he figured out how to cancel his lease, when Sterling's boyfriend had come over.
Or at least, he had assumed it was his boyfriend; the man was so soft spoken and mature and put together, and so diplomatic and considerate that Ilya almost found himself relieved that someone like this was looking after Sterling. He'd felt guilty, but appreciative at the reassurance the man had brought--that Sterling wasn't trying to push him out, that he'd just been surprised and needed time.
So, of course, Ilya was trying to give him time, and trying to be as absent as possible. Until Sterling was ready, Ilya was trying his best not to exist in any capacity that would remind Sterling he even had a neighbor.
But.
Now there was an issue, because if he got involved, he was breaking the promise to give him space. But if he didn't get involved--someone was over there, swearing, struggling with something, and...
It didn't sound like Sterling. It didn't sound like the man who had been on his doorstep the other day to update him on Sterling's condition either, so...
Was he still supposed to avoid them? Wasn't it worse if they needed help and he didn't offer it? --What if they were in trouble and he was making things worse by not helping?
He could have hurt himself thinking so hard about it, so even though he tried to water his herbs and focus on the weeds that had sprouted up on the perimeter of his yard, he just couldn't.
Finally, reluctantly, and with great grief, he finally turned to face the unfamiliar man. "...Are you all right?" he called, just loud enough to be heard but--hopefully--not loud enough to disturb Sterling inside. Or, to even remind Sterling of his existence.
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2020 6:36 pm
“NO, I am not All…” The reply was clearly snappish and, just as abruptly cut off. “I’m FINE.” Was the quick follow up, followed by a snarled “OW.” It was caught in his hair, of COURSE, it was caught in his hair, plus he’d been stupid enough to answer without thinking because he was mad at the brambles. He let out a breath through teeth clenched tight enough to creek with his irritation, debating the best course for freeing himself. Grab it had and rip it off? Might pull his hair over his face and still be tangled. He really didn’t want to cut it. Too many other people had sliced it into awful things like bowl cuts before… Pulling off the shirt might be similar. There had to be a good way out of this that didn’t involve taking the hedge clippers to his hair. Or…god forbid, asking for help.
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2020 6:55 pm
Ilya hesitated for a moment and turned away, not because it was what he wanted to do, but because the man in the other yard had insisted he was fine. Lying, obviously, but that was a good indication that Ilya was not wanted.
...What he wouldn't have given to just be able to walk back in the house, close the door, and forget about it.
He turned away so his back was to the man, as if to give him a bit of privacy while he floundered in his own landscaping. He tried to water his herbs but he couldn't.
He turned back to him and let his eyes dart over the scene. It was an easy fix, if not perhaps just a slightly time consuming one--at least, from this angle.
"...I can move that branch out of your blind spot, if you want."
Ilya had the vaguest impression that posing it as an offer of help would see it rejected, and there was only so much he could watch before it just got embarrassing. The stranger had already tangled the branch worse just by flailing, and unless he had unlimited flexibility, Ilya couldn't imagine how he would get out of that situation without just hurting himself--or absolutely destroying the plant in the process.
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2020 7:05 pm
“It’s not in my BLIND spot. It’s….” He gritted his teeth and tried to make himself be calm or pretend to be calm. The edge of violence was there right under his skin, a black tangle of finely edged fury that he pushed down to pull over as thick of a civilized mask as he could. He sucked in another breath of air, imagining all the curses he wanted to utter sliding through his teeth and let it out slowly. “It’s not in my blind spot; it’s…stuck, to my back.” He said the words carefully, like the words themselves slipped around curved little daggers. “I cut the branch of the bramble, and it -swung. It’s stuck to my BACK, and it’s caught in my HAIR.” He enunciated as precisely as he could. His jaw worked, and he took another grab at the branch, almost catching it, and instead managed to stab himself through the leather of the work glove with brought more swears. “You know what, fine. Knock yourself out; help me get it out of my ‘blind spot.” He hoped the jerk got stabbed, a lot, for how he made Sterling feel.
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2020 7:38 pm
Ilya nodded, because all of this was incredibly easy to see, but he suspected this man was struggling to choose his words as much as he was struggling to choose his own. He wasn't sure he would have responded to the situation the same as the man before him was, but then again, Ilya was also tall enough that he probably wouldn't have been in that situation.
"All right," he said; he set down the spade and bag, and the watering can, and walked over.
It was habit to announced what he was doing when he was standing behind someone; he didn't like to spook them, didn't like them to wonder what he was doing when he was in their blind spot. "If you stay still, I think I can get it without poking you. I'm going to focus on your hair first, I don't want to make it worse and pull anything out."
His hands were still covered in his pristine gloves, and he worked with remarkable tenderness to tease Yu's hair away from the bramble while ensuring that it didn't move or grate against his skin while he worked at it.
His eyes were focused on his task, but when he was just repeating the same motions and working at his hair, he asked, "Is your hand all right?"
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2020 7:56 pm
“Fine.” He said through clenched teeth. It was so hard not to be irritated that he was being so good at this, or that he was being nice enough to help. His jaw worked and he refused to let himself look at his hand, for at least a little bit. He did in the end, lifting a hand long enough to glance at the material and pull a few snapped free thorns out of his own far less than pristine gloves. “Thank you.” He said, absolutely chock full of tension. It was clearly not the first time he’d been in some sort of tangle. There were hints of older faded scars where his shirt failed to cover, most softened by time. “You must be Sterling’s Ex.” He said after a long moment, not quite able to keep from asking for confirmation. He disliked that the man was taller, it gave him reach if things went south.
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2020 8:13 pm
Ah, there it was.
Ilya released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and the sigh was more resigned than anything else.
"I am," he answered, which at least settled the question of if this neighbor knew who he was. It didn't stop him from working diligently to remove the briars, and he brushed some of Yu's hair out of the way, already having decent success in freeing the smaller man.
From this angle, it was impossible not to see the faded scars his shirt didn't conceal, and while it brought Ilya faint pause, that was absolutely none of his business. The curiosity was there, and the concern, but he tried to reason that this wasn't work. This was an adult standing in front of him, and it was none of his business, and if he had anything to do with Sterling, it was absolutely not something he should touch.
Instead, he focused on gently moving his hair. "Almost done here," he answered, just to make sure he was updated on his progress. "You have the benefit of knowing who I am. You must be his...roommate?"
...No, no. That was wrong. That made it sound like he was prying.
"...I mean," he clarified, almost quickly enough to seem like he was scraping to keep his composure, "I don't need to know that. I'd settle for your name, if you're willing to offer it. If not, that's fine. I'm not trying to invade. Just. Trying to be neighborly."
Oh, yes. Very cool. Very good impression, Ilya. It's like building rapport isn't an important aspect of your job, and you are, of course, bombing this conversation.
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2020 8:51 pm
“I…. am the new… boyfriend.” He said after a tense moment. He had weighed the words out carefully against the thorns still hooked in shirt, and in more than a few cases, skin and hair. He also weighed it against panic attacks, and the press of thorns against his skin and hooked into his shirt. If it came down to it, he could take it, he could take thorns or shoves or worse. He had taken it, it was worth it, he decided to be so… So very much the reverse of the man who had CAUSED the panic. For that brief moment, it was good to be human garbage. “I’m Yu.” He said, the tease of a smile making its way for a moment onto his face as he imagined how that statement might play out right after ‘I’m the boyfriend’.
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2020 10:48 pm
Ilya paused for a moment; his fingers slowed as he processed this. He said nothing, the telltale sign of him being affected by the words as his movements stilled. "Oh," he said, then, and resumed his work. It wasn't his place to be invested or to pry. Sterling had moved on, and that was a good thing.
Even if he had unresolved issues and a complete lack of closure on things...
He certainly wasn't going to take it out anything on Yu. "Here we go," he said after a few seconds, managing to pry away the offending bramble and free Yu's hair. "Going to get it off of your shirt now. It's stuck in a few places but I think I can get it off without poking any holes in it, or you. Just don't move. "
He continued to work diligently, but his hands were a little less steady. He just worked twice as hard to make sure that didn't come across as hurting Yu.
He didn't want awkwardness. Didn't want those shears coming at him. Didn't want to make Sterling cry or make his life any harder.
"...I'm sorry about what happened. I didn't do it on purpose. Is he..." his voice tapered off, like he knew it wasn't his place to ask. He just sighed instead and said, "I hope he's doing all right."
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Posted: Mon Oct 26, 2020 6:07 am
The words ‘I’m sorry.” Had more visible effect on Yu than even the branch, which was a bloodthirsty thing, just whip like enough to try and lean towards Ilya as though it could score a taste. Yu kept watch over his shoulder as best he could. The tone of the sorry helped - the hesitation, the distancing. But he had a lot of thoughts about sorry. “As best I can tell- he’ll be alright.” He said after a moment. Thorns, the whole conversation was like thorns. They caught at you and tangled and if you weren’t careful you could really hurt someone. Including yourself. “.... if you don’t watch the top of that ********, it’s going to take your eye out.” He hesitated and then offered the hilt of the sheers.
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Posted: Mon Oct 26, 2020 7:28 am
Ilya moved slowly, no wanting to give any reason to cause Yu to distrust him--which must have paid off, because suddenly he was offering him the shears and didn't seem to be trying to cut off any part of him with it.
"Thank you," he said; he had only really been paying attention to what he was doing with Yu. He accepted the sheers carefully, unwilling to let any of his work come undone by an incomplete job. Most of what he did, he managed with only one hand. He kept a grip on the bramble to hold it in place and ensure it didn't tug or pull, but he maneuvered the shears so he could get them to the offending branch.
He carefully wrapped the bramble in his hand so that if it did whip back, he'd have a good grip, and he snipped it. It wanted to tug, but he'd had it at a good angle; if Yu hadn't mentioned something, he might have caught himself.
...It must have said something, though, that Yu didn't just let it happen out of spite.
But, Yu was free and he was safe from danger, so he passed the shears back--if only because he didn't want to be at his back with some sort of weapon.
It took only a few more seconds before he pulled the bramble free and instinctively smoothed out the shirt with hand. "I think that's all of it," he said, drawing his handful of bramble away to give Yu a bit of space to move."
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Posted: Mon Oct 26, 2020 8:16 am
Yu did make more space between them , to the side and turning to look ‘properly’ at his ‘savior’. It also gave him a way around the tall b*****d that didn’t involve backing into the thorns. He made no effort to hide his glance over Ilya, huffing slightly to see he had to look up at him. “... thanks.” He muttered. He glanced at the thorns and back. “I should have the fence mostly liberated soon. So ... it will at least look on your side like... all clean like your herbs.” He meant it to be a little pithy but it was a rather lame go at it. Hard to make a jab at someone who looked like their life was sponsored by Mr. Clean without bringing up Sterling, or worrying how he held up in comparison beyond the panic attack and its fall out.
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