streetwalkers | TRAINWRECK AU MASTER POST

There was nothing bad enough he needed to heal it.

[That's something. No broken bones, no heavy bloodloss, nothing that would send him to the hospital without Kirei's exemplary healing magic. There are dark bruises on his wrists and neck starting to show already and a million cuts, scrapes, and lighter bumps, but tonight wasn't a night where Byakuya stared death in the face.

The bad nights leave him far from this calm. On the worst ones he doesn't come see Kariya at all -- he just retreats and drinks and drinks until oblivion hits.]

Anyway, I took care of it for the most part, so it's your turn.

... Sorry.

[He always says it, even when there are enough things to be sorry for that the word doesn't even cut it anymore. He says sorry because nobody else will. Maybe he's apologizing for the word itself at this point.

Kariya fights down the urge to offer his own healing magic for what remains -- he's clumsy with it, much less practiced than Kirei and while he thinks Kirei probably enjoys the natural side-effects of spiritual healing too much, the fact remains that Kariya would probably end up hurting more than helping. He never allows Kirei to heal him, though.

He takes a deep breath instead -- no real internal damage, and the cuts to his torso won't bother him too much if he doesn't try a repeat of last night in the next dozen hours. The worms will speed up the regeneration, anyway.]

Disinfecting's all they need. [Holding out a hand for first-aid things because bending down would be a bad idea, probably, unless you want blood on your head.]

Let me.

[If there's anything Matou Byakuya is actually useful at, it's first aid. He has been a single father for going on nine years now, after all, and that's not counting what he's learned since meeting Kirei. It's his one decent skill, so he's more than happy to contribute to the household by playing nurse when it's required. There is, despite his resentment and despite the urge to hide and not deal with anything, a constant aching guilt for being ultimately useless. He feels a little less like everyone is judging him if he does this.

He roots around in the kit for a bit, then sits up on his knees to start in on those cuts whether Kariya wants him to or not. This, at least, is a little bit like that short time when they were both small and Kariya was still "just a baby" and not "the one I've been thrown away in favor of."]

Edited 2013-02-24 23:31 (UTC)

[He flinches reflexively at the touch of alcohol on raw skin, even though injury is an old friend by now -- it's more the situation than the actual sensation throwing him off. Sometimes Kariya feels like he's hallucinating the whole thing, this Matou household without Zouken in it. He abandoned it wholesale without looking back, but...

(He'd never thought of the Matou as family, had he? He doesn't remember. He doesn't know what this is.)

Blood might actually be a stranger thing than family -- it's the magic in his blood that dragged him back into this life, and all the extra blood spilled that ended in him and Byakuya playing at being actual brothers. He doesn't know whose blood is needed to move forward. Maybe one day he'll spill enough of Kirei's.]

... Thanks. I'm not sure what I'd do without you.

[It just kind of slips out -- he's still sleepy, exhausted, and his thoughts are running in strange directions.]

[Generally, Byakuya isn't a still kind of person. He fidgets, flinches, shies (or gestures and hits things, if he's wound up the right way) and is generally a neurotic and constantly, jerkily in-motion man. He's always moving, anticipating something he needs to run from or strike at. Nothing's ever confident and everything is halting in a way that makes his whole body stutter like a puppet with a broken string and a few stiff joints.

He's always moving, but when those words come out of Kariya's mouth he freezes as still as a statue. His expression is one of ice-water shock for that one long, heavy pause, before his face and his posture melt into an unguarded, bone-deep heartbreak. It's an utterly open emotion -- for an instant every grumpy, stubborn, petty defense vanishes entirely.

Then he goes uncharacteristically blank and gets back to work as if nothing unusual was said at all.]

You'd learn to bandage yourself is what.

[Kariya is used to Byakuya's constant state of jitters -- it's what he remembers from his childhood years, the strange sense that his brother was always on the edge of flight and wondering when he would disappear.

... He thinks it's more ironic that they're both named after birds, when watching the creatures always gave him that same unsettled feeling.

So the sudden stillness jolts him further into wakefulness more than anything else, but he doesn't get more than a vaguely concerned glimpse of Byakuya's face before he looks away in a hurry. He feels like he saw something he wasn't at all meant to see -- something he said, off-hand, shouldn't--

He feels oddly guilty even amid the confusion. He doesn't take it back.]

I can put on bandages. [A crooked smile, but it's directed at the arm of the couch.] They just don't stay on very well.

In other words, you can't do it properly.

[It's better that Kariya doesn't pursue the issue. Byakuya is sure that if he did, it would end in a meltdown for him -- that kind of thing isn't something he's supposed to hear. It's kind, but at the same time it's immeasurably cruel. Like hugging a child who's never been touched, what should be comforting is so alien as to be painful.

For one, encouraging words are, in his head, something reserved for the face and voice of someone who is gone. They're the special property of the person who embodied "hope" and "happiness" for a man who never had any -- and who, along with those things, was brutally torn from him because of his own uselessness. Not only that, it's Kariya's own actions that could be blamed for the situation that resulted in her death. The thought of it is unbearable, and there's a part of him that wants to reach into Kariya's wounds and rip them further open in vengeance.

Matou Byakuya is worthless. This is a basic fact that he's known since he was old enough to understand that a human could be worthless. Even when he's been the better son, when he's given more and suffered longer in order to be better than Kariya, he's always known that he was only reaching for scraps that meant nothing. She was the only person to whom he had value. She was an existence that ran contrary to the entire universe, so for Kariya to speak her words seems vulgar. How dare he even approach the place reserved for the woman whose death he caused? When Kariya's own choice to throw his brother into the pit like trash is the reason she's gone?

And yet at the same time, even though it makes him intensely angry, hearing it also instantly created a seed of something at least resembling the "hope" that died eight years ago. That shakes his very sense of self, and is unable to be separated and kept apart from the anger. So he squashes both of them ruthlessly, and in the aftermath withdraws until he's acting completely mechanical and flat -- as unlike his usual self as the prior stillness.]

You should practice. I won't be here forever.

[Something about the words, spoken as unfeelingly as they are, makes Kariya grit his teeth. He can't tell if the feeling rising in him is temper or something else altogether -- quashes it ruthlessly, because his temper has done enough for now.

(It's something he's always hated in Byakuya, the way he doesn't so much bend as crumple. He hates watching it, the way he couldn't avoid it even with his eyes on the ground.)

Quieter, and very even--]

You're not that much older than me. You'll give yourself more wrinkles, talking like that.

[There are a lot of things Kariya doesn't know how to apologize for. Wrinkles being the least of them. People he chose over other people; things he closed his eyes to; things he didn't think about because it was easier; ten years of stolen time that he doesn't even know who to return to; endless things, a crushing weight, but he knows how to bend without breaking.

This place has been a prison and a penance, but it's never been home. He forfeited that right a long time ago -- and the regret is a complicated thing, with claws that hook into too much else in his life.

Who does he have the right to apologize to?]

5,000 yen says I've got less than ten years.

[It's said with no outward emotion, but there's definitely spite behind it. He won't let himself get angry, but a little cold reality is fair.

He knows the way he's headed. He used to think he was looking at another few decades of slow descent into liver failure, but that's changed. Since the day Kirei told him he had a "violent expiration date", he's gradually become aware that that assessment is accurate. He's living right now because he can't give up on Shinji. He's already given up on any other dream of something worth holding onto.

Maybe Kariya won't take him seriously. Maybe he won't care if he does -- and why should he? But Byakuya hopes that it strikes Kariya that the boy who held his hand when he could barely toddle and stubbornly walked ahead of him has turned into a man who stands alone so far behind he's very nearly disappeared from view.]

... I wouldn't be able to face Shinji if I took that kind of bet.

[It's quiet, tone barely changing, but the rebuke is there. He's looking back at Byakuya now, steady gaze without anger but refusing to let the matter pass. Kariya doesn't care whatever thorny retorts Byakuya wants to lob his way, but just as with Kirei, there are certain lines that are better not crossed.

He wants them all to live. He's quietly let go of a great deal -- perhaps it's a Matou thing -- crushed childish hopes back into the depths of his heart; but that just means Kariya will fight for what he's got left to the bitter end. It doesn't matter if he's got allies in the battle. Very little actually matters, because...

Don't be an idiot, he wants to say, the Grail isn't a joke. If we've survived the Grail War like the insects we are, you don't get to throw that away.

He can't, because it's not something that should concern those who weren't there. It's a problem entirely of the world of magi, and he won't share it, especially here.]

[He averts his gaze immediately when it's met, finishing up his first aid work and quietly rolling the spare gauze back into little rolls much neater and tidier than Byakuya himself. He won't argue, but it's clear enough in the way he shrugs it off that he isn't changing the way he's thinking. He only ever shrugs something off if he's decided it's not only fixed but acceptable.

In his head, it's clear. His life is a clock counting down to the day the weight becomes too much to carry. He's already discarded everything but fatherhood -- he's not even remotely existing for himself. But really, is that surprising in someone who already leans heavily on the slow suicide of liquor just to function?]

[Kariya lets out a slow breath and resists the urge to force Byakuya to look at him, to at least acknowledge his words in some way that isn't that dismissive roll of the shoulders. The gulf between them is so vast and old and full of wreckage that he can't see a way of crossing it.

There's always that distance, somehow, when he reaches out. Some days, he thinks it's the curse of adulthood. Maybe, as soon as you pass a certain age, it becomes impossible to repair bridges. He doesn't know what giving up would entail, though -- they're stuck with each other.

A long, careful stretch with minimal wincing -- the bandages are secure, something productive has happened -- before he stands, feeling steadier but also kind of hollow.]

I'll make breakfast, you should try to get some sleep.

[Hey, since returning from single-apartment bachelor life, he's at least learned how to do something other than boil water and eggs! It's a rare day off, let's put that to use.]

I might.

[For normal adults, there may well be a way to cross even this kind of gap. For these two, there may still be a glimmer of hope. They've established that they don't hate each other. They've learned to work together.

But Byakuya established his sense of self as "alone" at a very young age. It's just the way he views the world. He's alone, and all he wants is to be satisfied, so it's everyone else's fault if he isn't. Because he's alone, his inability to be valued by others is both natural and not his fault. The unfortunate side effect is that he can't imagine this status quo ever being upset.

It isn't that he rejects Kariya's attempts to reach for him. It's simply that he doesn't notice them at all. According to his world view, they can't exist. He's alone, and he can't do anything to change anything. That's just the only reality he can see.

It's with genuine obliviousness that he closes the first aid kit and gets stiffly off the floor. As always he wraps his hopelessness around him like a hood and cloak, only right now he's wrapped it so tight there isn't a bit of his usual nerves to be seen.]

Clean up the blood where you can.

I'll clean up after I cook. More sanitary.

[... This is probably only a joke in the Matou household, because nowhere else would it be a milder substitute for 'no worms in the soup today, don't worry!'. Kariya tries for a last awkward smile before he heads for the kitchen, even though Byakuya probably won't see it.

That's the problem with being adults -- they're trapped in the roles they've built for themselves, that have been built for them, and no matter how much he might want to... He can't reach someone who doesn't want his help. He can only do the best he knows how, toeing the line in the sand he's drawn for himself.

(He both has and hasn't learned his lesson from Aoi. He doesn't regret it -- but regret dogs him anyway; he refuses to give a name to it.)]

[The joke earns a grumpy snort, but at least it's an emotional response. If he sleeps now he'll sleep all day, but that's alright. He'll be up by the time the boys get home and he'll get to eat dinner and then go hide and drink like always.

It wasn't that bad, after all. Still, that short exchange of words with Kariya is going to stick in him like a thorn -- quite possibly the rest of his life.]

TRAINWRECK AU MASTER POST

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