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Waru shot awake, hit his head on the back-board of a headrest so conveniently there. It was what he got, aiming for 'comfort', something he bemoaned as he rolled off the bed that hadn't yet been unmade. Padded across cold stone on his way throughout his thrown-out, re-pieced-together, ******** maze of a shoebox.

Plastic wrap that layered a loveseat. Carpet that had been torn out, beneath which lay only cleaned up concrete, stark and bare when viewed next to tile. Like something had gone down. Not that it mattered to him right then, as he kicked his coffee table back into place and made it for the door.

Nothing mattered to him more than the screaming coming beyond the pounding that nearly rattled his houses frame. A godamned, wonder, of a thing. He was about ready to start leaving sticky notes about his place that laid out how people were welcome to come the hell in. Teleportation was better than a key. Though he maybe shoulda started making sets of those too. Something to toss around the office for anyone who needed him, especially since he was never going to have one of his own.

Not as super, or Eternal, or other...just..Nope. Would take up residence in Faustites spaces permanently.

Speaking ********, are you.." how little point there was in finishing that sentence, when the look on Eions face screamed 'all's gone fubar, now leme the ******** in'.

So he didn't finish it.

Didn't bother with semantics or halfwitted yammerings. Threw open his door like he threw open his arms and allowed Eion entry. All sorts of *what* that read clear across his face, with a raised eyebrow and sour frown.

Winced and sidestepped Eions folly, dragged softly the table another inch, two, until it was in a place that might've resembled where it'd been before. Close enough for his boy to kick his feet up on, or kick again, if he so chose.

"You've said that before, yanno..Youmafied young, spent a lot of time in the Rift..too long, maybe, yeah?" the words passively rhetorical as Waru slammed his door and zigged into the kitchen.

There were tissues, somewhere, a box with a brand-name fulla lotion or aloe or some other sweet herb that was probably straight up bullshit, but definitely felt soft on abused noses. How he'd stocked up after running the wrong side of a frost-bitting rabbit gang. The absolute frozen layers of hell that'd been, all laid up n miserable unto himself...

So much shivering and ******** e l l

"Ahah--Here" handed the box over wholesale before settling himself down next to the weeping boy. Scrubbing the tired outta his own eyes with open palms, raking fingers up and over into locks that wound up wrapped into a wristband.

"You know things Eion, and you talk just fine. Still though, if speaking's what you wanna work on, alluvasudden, then you've gotta gimme a start of where this went wrong?" and there was a throw somewhere, if he searched -- everything fresh and new bought, some still with tags. Everything had to be clean in the aftermath of.....'The Great Yellow Death'.

"Like, in particular, the hell happened..." to make him think such things, to send him spiraling, puffy eyed and red rimmed with tears that he was tempted to kiss free. Could wait a minute more, til after.

Let him breathe enough to say his piece where he sat..close enough to reach...

"S'okay Ei, none of that, is any less human than what everyone else on the planet does. People fight, people ******** up, people say stupid s**t when they get all heated - in the moment. What matters after the fact? Is how you go about fixing it, yeah? How we make amends when we say s**t we don't mean -- or say what we mean, wrong...."

Obvious statements patterned out, pieces of a puzzle that he lay calmly down, spoke around the issue as he tried to visualize the whys and how's of what could have possibly happened. Didn't like it. Little fractures that could've later become cracks in the wall. The thin fabric and fragile frame nailed together that made up their team.

Nothing that couldn't be fixed, nothing even, that was innately Eion's fault; for all that he was sure his boy didn't see it that way. People were ******** 'people'. That was the beginning, the end. Things happened, and sometimes? Little embers offcast without intent, sparked fields full of wildfires, in what one coulda sworn had been a placid little lake, just a moment before.

"Ana loves...so ******** much, but she's strung tighter than a tripwire for it. N Haru is -- he's ******** stunning, yeah? Heels straight outta hell and whipsmart swagger...But, for all that he's got a boss a** sister alongside him for support, he's also -- adjusting." the realization that Eion too, was adjusting, young and adjusting. Going through the motions of carrying more than any one person should bear. A team, a loss, a moutnain of grief and responsibilities of a life that seemed long even though it was probably hella short - young --- Eion was young.

"What I do isn't a magic trick..I listen...real well, n the rest? I let slide." Couldn't let slide the tangles in Eions hair. Reached for him with a sigh and pulled him in, twisted enough so he could have him in his lap and put his fingers there -- into soft silken strands -- tease the knots apart, and just -- breathe. "Not that that's always a good thing." Steady in and out, puffed little sighs.

"We know you care....I know...I've known you three seconds longer then them though, yeah? We can work on the 'showing' part, though. If that's what you really want." and he'd want to know 'what' in all that was said, and the how in the ways it was phrased, and....There were ways to make up for little hurts when one knew a person well enough to spot 'em. Eion had spotted them, at least, knew he'd caused some some sort of 'wrong', and was feeling for it - hurting in turn - oh, all the ways that meant things.

"Ya' gotta be easier on yourself sometimes firebrand..I swear." half-muttered as he pet. Sought to soothe..to..something..

*How did he fix it?* - long sigh full of want, the way all of Eions frustrated words stabbed the softer parts of his heart. Stuck between sinew and bone. Fiberglass slivers, and he wanted to be honest — to express that fixing wasn’t a thing to be done. Was no such thing that he’d seen, fixing a person, fixing cracks in a bond. Some shot stayed remembered even after apologies were given and righting wrongs took time….Acceptance of another and a game of waiting to hear back on what would be ‘enough’ — if there ever would be ‘enough’.

“I listen..….for the way Aqua tells me to ‘******** off’, but still opens the door. The way you say three words, while your fingers spin webs n you pace holes in the floor…The way Ana smiles a little too big, around too bright eyes, while calling me her ‘adopted brother’. It involves some looking too, I guess. Watching body language while paying lip service.” softer words as Eion crowded in, cuddled up and clung. How that made it easier almost, to seek the tension out. Drag blunted nails along skin in passing, and press his the nape of his neck. Soft sweeping digs and gentle scrapes between strands, over available skin.

“Sometimes finding yourself means causing hurts..lashing out in little ways…They’re probably picking the pieces of themselves outta strong feelings. Cause there aren’t any other guideposts. Just, gut instincts. Impulses that point to a yes or no.” In that, laid every reason he’d stay. A testament to his cowardice maybe, that he was unwilling to give up large chunks of who he was for the sake of greener pastures ont he other side of a fence. Thorite — Amsv — he’d had it right. Called him on his bullshit and pegged him for happy right where he ******** was. Not for chaos, no, and he’d had to amend him of that idea. For himself though? To exist as someone whole because he knew damn well he wouldn’t be himself in the aftermath of having pieces torn out and his mind emptied by half — could barely manage being with it whole and fulla all the little things that made him — *him*.

Ana was family though. Eion’s big sister. She’d forgive faster, he was sure.

“Ana likes to bake, yeah? Bring her a recipe..one of Axinites…or something from a show, a book. Let her figure it out while teaching you how. Big sisters like that — n it’s something simple to do together.“ He could think of what he would’ve done, if he’d pissed off an older sister. If he was actually in the wrong. Wrapped his arms a little tighter around Eion for it, uncaring for the prickle of wet through cloth.

The crying was good — Ei needed it — needed, a helluvalot more than he’d ever gotten. A rewind button, so he could be around people, better ******** people than he’d had, pick up the skills he needed — feel confident enough in himself that he didn’t have to come off as someone so — so scraped raw…

“Then ask her who she’s seeing now…if she’s making friends. If she needs *more* - And then? Apologize for being a half-feral brat. Tell her about Agni, if it helps. *Remind her* - that you’re her brother, and you love her.”

Lightest little tease in tone, where his fingers curled behind Eions ears, pressed soft behind cartilage, over temples. Haru was a harder thing to think over — knew him less — knew Hina better, more, as a pathway to him. Maybe a fix lay in her? Maybe talking, maybe time? All the ways Haru screamed ‘body’ — like a distraction from the obvious ‘mind’ that sat within it. Comfortable, confident —- but….

Hina. Someone to ask about the landmines and soft spots to avoid — to ask about words and phrasing — like pointing to a map and looking for directions from someone that knew the zipcode.

“If Haru’s still pissed…if he’s lost..if..delegate to Hina. Ask her things, she’s close enough to him to help — n’ maybe give him time before circling back in.”

And even if Eions hair was mostly tangle free, it was still nice to have access to it. To smooth it down and let it be. To find vertebrae to warm at the base of a skull, tease lines between shoulder and neck. To muffle an apology against the top of Eions curls and hold him through the hurt.

“You need easier, Eion, because there aren’t always answers for people. Not really. N’ you need s**t too, yeah? Tryna burn yourself out at both ends..…”

Waru wondered if he could've said 'yes' to all those things, could've said 'no'. Marked D for all of the above because when did anyone under thirty know themselves, and even then? How peoples whole worlds were micro adjustments and lashing out for the sake of survival -- protection of the core.

Could've said how he needed more information before making any assumptions at all, that people were impossible tangles of yarn when they weren't boxes fulla glass. That listening to them, watching them, even speaking to them - only rarely begot him any understanding. Every now and then, a flood of lightbulbs, but more often then not?

He'd had to sit on all the pieces while he teased understanding out - dragged it out over numerous cups of coffee, bourbon, hot coco. Sometimes the obvious truck in the road missed his view for how close he was standing to it - and he got his a** hit by it - like so much roadkill.

Except staying dead was never the option - had to get back up and decide what to do with the new info. Had to decide on things in the moment - instant - rightthenorelse...

Whatever - there were things in that he could answer. Could say 'yes' to, firm nods, a shrugged possibly, the dawning Semi-truck bright lights that blared alongside several horns worth of - "Oh, well that's easier. You like him, Ei." maybe even loved him?

That was sweet, good, simpler to work with than --- stopping the way his fingers tread, stopping all his petting entirely and going something like still. Because the word 'stop' was suddenly there playing buddy-cop to the palm over his mouth. A whole hand, finebone, soft and warm all the places it wasn't hard and pressing silence over his lips. So he made a face behind it instead, let his eyebrows make skeptics jealous, even if his gaze held happiness, rolled his the honey orbs in them for the obvious, because of all the words on the Earth to choose from? 'Fine'. He huffed for it.

An affront to descriptive language is what 'fine' was.

*Whatever* - there was a hand impeding his mouth's movement. So he kissed it, made that kiss a stupidly wet thing, fulla all sorts of love, before he bared his teeth, threatened to 'bite'. Growled in his chest while his arms settled firmly about the waist of - squirming however-old hotpot. Like holding angry carp, except cuter - maybe an octopus? Feral cat? Ahhh - a teddybear if it were also a cactus that moved.

"Achk! Hey! No setting the world ablaze at 3am! That's like, 6 in the morning bullshit? The sort that needs strong tea -- or coffee? With cream? ********, maybe something dirty with espresso added in, n extra cinnamon. Ohh, like a mountain Chai." squawked sound as he grabbed for his escapee, sought to wrangle him in, down, onto the threadbare gray-brown couch that could've once been something else entirely; because going full 'Hellfire at the Worlds End' didn't seem like the answer to a few plucked feelings -- happy, hurt, or otherwise. Not that he wouldn't've followed him into the blazing inferno that woulda resulted outta all that -- just...Sleeping on it sounded good. Sleeping with it? Even better.

"I'm sorry --- that my answers don't make sense, but you asked about me, yeah? What I'd do, how I'd do it? You can always just 'do you', firebrand." he could imagine, quick cut's of words, steepled fingers that became something staccato. Flashpan apology, easy, over, done.

The ways he wanted to say that -- to make pushpin points on cork boards - cooed instead, for all the existential petrol that fell across his boys lips. Tightwound snare, ready to trip, to -- love on -- easier to do that. To poke and tease at the bony form buried beneath layers. N offer smiles for every huffed sigh that screamed 'upset'. "Because you have the answers already, a lot of the time. You do things your own way - you find out what works as you go along. We all like you for a reason, s'gotta be something you're doing right."

All the ways Waru felt like a man selling green eggs and ham to a skeptic born of the world's most malicious mishaps. The sort who'd been so wronged by it, that he refused to acknowledge the existence of eggs at all. No matter how many foxes and boxes the mal-colored foods were placed next to -- there existed the lingering belief that the eggs were entirely false, or that some variety of chickenhawk would swoop down and consume them the instant they appeared. Pluck the eggs out the eaters hand with vicious claw and beak - every time - Some allegory for Prometheus and his eagle. Except Eion, and eggs...?

Eion and people? Feelings? Mabye....Maybe, he really did talk about food too much. Maybe he was hungry, starved, ******** famished. Had something like a meal laid out under him. Soft touches and subdued squirming that beckoned him to 'do something'. Make it better, stoke a flame. Slap a lid on all the congenial conversations of later. Where he would pluck free the details of all the little wrongs in the dark, cozy aftermath of their time spent.

Devise a plan - or several - because Eion's happiness was worth braving the fire for.

“Awwh Ei, lucky for you? I can multitask. Now! About all that burning we’re gonna do…”

Calories — time — the heat of bodies lain beneath soft winter sheets and sherpa lined throws.

In the end, everything burned.