westwhere | one day I might not make it back home (may catch-all)

Fox had finally figured out where this “Bai Mingyu”’s rooms were, though he was growing more anxious about it by the minute, trying not to constantly check the magpie on his wrist. He knew Mingyu was somewhere in this strange new world - new timeline - and he was feeling an increasing dread about finding him Here. The courtesan who had finally given him the directions had chuckled, had slipped a hand to squeeze his cock in his pants and tell him that Mingyu wasn’t the only one that knew how to treat a handsome man well. Fox had thanked her as hurriedly as he could, and rushed upstairs.

Okay. Okay, moment of truth. But hey - hey, it’d be fine, right? It was probably someone else, he’d be embarrassed at intruding on them, and then leave. It was fine. He cleared his throat, feeling severely both over and under dressed for this establishment, and raised his hand to knock on the door.

Except before he could, it opened.

The man on the other side was no one Fox knew, and though he’d expected to feel relieved to find out that this Mingyu wasn’t his, he didn’t. He felt a sudden great despair at the idea that he had no idea where to go—

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the man mumbled, flushing a little. “I didn’t mean to - to go overtime, please excuse me. I- well, I’m sure you know, he’s worth the, um, worth the wait. Here—“ He pressed a heavy coin into Fox’s hand. “For, um, the lost time. Thank you. Sorry.” And then without waiting for a stunned Fox to speak, rushed past him.

So that hadn’t been Mingyu, that had been a client. Then where—

It wasn’t hard to catch sight of the man when he shook himself into looking. Bai Mingyu - his Bai Mingyu - perfect and porcelain and delicate - lay lounging across a low couch, robe half way open, skin glistening with a faint sheen of sweat and recent exertion. He could smell the sex in the air, and yet all he could do was stand there and stare from the doorway like a stupified deer in the middle of the highway.

“... What?” He managed a little belatedly as his mind tried to catch up with what he was seeing. He had so thoroughly convinced himself that this wasn’t possible that he hadn’t prepared himself for the possibility that it was.

He didn’t catch the door as it slowly began to swing closed once more, frozen in place.

It was a single word barely above a whisper, but the sound poured ice into Mingyu's veins as he sat straight up, eyes wide, head snapping in the direction of the door with an expression like he expected to see a ghost.

And there it was, the ghost, Fox standing there on the other side of the door. Just as wide-eyed. Young. Whole.

It had to be a trick. A mistake.

Mingyu knew people were here from different times, different worlds, different realities altogether.

He hadn't considered getting Fox back like this. So soon. With so little effort on his part. Whole again. That hair, those clothes—

That was at least a year before he disappeared. Fox accidentally burned that shirt to cinders trying to magically deep fry a turkey of all things, Thanksgiving 2016.

Mingyu didn't— He—

The door closed on Fox and he scrambled out of bed, across the room, yanked the door open again with his heart pounding, convinced Fox would be gone.

"Huli," he whispered, voice so tight it was hoarse, just staring, frozen, at a loss for where to even begin.

He thought about moving. The idea flashed over his mind with a sudden blinding clarity. Escape. Run. Regroup. It was how Fox kept himself alive, knowing when to disappear. And he felt it now, that deep intense instinct to flee. But he didn’t move - barely even breathed - blinking as his chest started pulling painfully tight, making it harder to breathe, harder to think.

His thoughts didn’t make sense. Or, rather, where he expected thoughts he found only defeaning white noise with a slowly growing whisper of it’s your fault, this is your fault, how can you be upset when you’re the one who did this hissing in the background. There was no logic to go with it, no analysis, just dumb shock and a quickly burgeoning panic.

When the door opened again (he had no idea how long it had been between - a second? a year?), he raised his eyes to meet Mingyu’s, his vision blurred as a wetness rimmed them.

“Um—“ he said, eloquently, his heart slamming so hard that he could hear it louder than almost anything else. He couldn’t keep eye contact for long, gaze slipping down to Mingyu’s throat, to the clear dark marks of passion that had so recently been left there. He abruptly turned his eyes away, suddenly feeling a little sick.

“Sorry,” he felt himself saying in a rush without even thinking about it. “Sorry, I— I’ll— I didn’t mean to interrupt, I’ll come back- um- later— sorry—"

He finally regained use of his muscles, and he used it to take a single shaky step backward away from the door. Escape. Run. Regroup.

Mingyu reached out after him, then froze. Fox always spooked so easily. Ran at the slightest provocation. Needed an exit the way people needed air. Mingyu had been so careful in the beginning, to keep the door open without making him feel boxed in. But they'd gotten past that, had grown so familiar Mingyu had forgotten this feeling. What could he do? What could he say? Fox, this Fox, didn't know.

"Huli," he repeated softly, voice cracking with his heart, with his valiant effort to hold back his tears. "Huli, I— I missed you—"

The problem was, he had gotten used to it. After his Aunt- after Mingyu meeting the only person Fox really considered family that he’d had left… He hadn’t wanted to run anymore. Hadn’t felt himself an imposition on Mingyu’s time and patience. Hadn’t felt himself a weird, disorganized burden.

And now he felt adrift in the ocean again and it was all his fault.

“— At least— at least you know who I am,” he found himself stammering, still not looking at Mingyu, trying to process everything. “I didn’t - I didn’t fuck up so badly as to erase myself, at least, just - just change- change everything—“

He wasn’t talking to Mingyu, not really. Because then he would have to compute what the man had just said, what he had meant by the word miss.

“I— I’ll—- I can fix it, I’ll fix it, I just - I just have to try again and I’ll-“

Oh. He hadn’t been paying attention to his face, and suddenly he felt a tear slide down his cheek, startling him. And then another. And another. It was like everything that had happened in the last week was finally catching up with him emotionally and completely overwhelming him.

What on earth had he done?

Fox wasn't making sense, but then— Did he usually? The thought struck Mingyu as almost funny, which made him feel immediately lightheaded as he— He watched Fox standing there, muttering to himself, and then start to cry. What was it Fox thought he needed to fix?

He started to reach out to Fox again, then stopped and simply… opened his door. Stepped aside, gesturing in.

"...come inside?" he asked, voice pitching high with desperation.

Inside. Inside the room that the man had come out of. Inside the room where Mingyu took men to his bed, living in a twisted and messed up world, a broken timeline, possibly a broken universe. He didn’t want to. He wanted to run away.

But it had been years since Mingyu had become the home he ran to. Where else could he possibly go?

He would just end up coming back here. There was nothing else. There was no one else.

He stood there for a full minute, the mocking bird tattoo on his wrist swooping over his skin, peeking its head from under his cuff, trying to reach its mate, its match—

Trying to go home.

He looked helplessly at the open door, then at Mingyu, his expression twisted with a base sort of despair, imploring and wide-eyed.

“... Is that okay?” He asked, stupidly, though he didn’t know which of them he was asking.

"Why— Why wouldn't—" Mingyu didn't even know how to finish the question, didn't know what to do in a world where Fox was back but they barely knew how to say hello. He swallowed hard, gaze dropping to the floor.

"You… don't have to," he said instead. "I just thought—"

He didn't know how to finish that sentence either.

Fox swallowed, voice thick.

“I don’t know what else changed,” he said, very quietly. “I don’t - um - I don’t know what you remember about me, I don’t know how long I’ve been gone -“

Mingyu startled himself with a smile, expression full of grief and longing. He kept his gaze to the floor, arms curling around his middle.

Strange, that he should chase the memory of Fox to madness, only to find him and wish to flee.

He supposed the hypocrisy of Bai Mingyu remained their one constant. That Mingyu never knew what he wanted, never knew how to protect the ones he loved, never measured up to any test of character until the exact moment it became too late.

"I don't know either. I've lived it, and I don't know either."

'Not my love,' he wanted to say, but he didn't know if it was true. Surely the love had corrupted like everything else, had been dragged screaming into the night.

"You're still... home," he mumbled instead, smile aching so badly it felt carved into his face by blade. "You're my last thought when I close my eyes. My first thought when I wake. I see you everywhere, in everything. Even when you're gone, I think of you all the time."

Not a mere week, then. Fox could summarize that much, at least. But he had no idea how much time he had spent on that boat.

He stood on the precipice of Mingyu’s boudoir, still way too aware of the scent of sex in the room. But where else was he going to go?

Mingyu was his home.

“Okay,” he mumbled, still eloquent as ever, and finally - finally took a step forward. And another. And another. Unless he was inside the lavishly decorated - if somewhat deteriorating - brothel room.

“I-“ he started, and then fumbled. He swallowed again, stepped further into the room, picked up a loose down feather that had drifted over from a pillow and turned it in his hand.

“How long?” He finally managed to ask.

Edited 2021-05-10 19:33 (UTC)

Closing the door behind them, warding it quickly to keep potential intruders out—Mingyu's heart seized to think about Lee Chang walking in now—Mingyu followed just a few paces behind.

At the question, he took in a slow, tight breath, fixing his robe and fastening it properly just for something to do with his hands.

"...since what?" he asked softly, hesitant to offer Fox answers to questions he had not asked, knowing there was too much Fox didn't need to know. Not right away, not like this.

Unfortunately for Mingyu, the careful question was as telling as any answer could be. Fox didn’t know what it meant, exactly, but he had a few guesses, and none of them were good. If it was a simple answer - You’ve been gone a whole month, Mingyu wouldn’t hesitate to give it.

“Um, I don’t really know what— what timeline I’m in, right now,” he mumbled as a reply. “So I am just trying to find where um - if there’s a common— This is a lot different than I expected,” he explained in a bit of a rush. “With the slave ships and the Masked Death Crusaders and the Mermaid Zombies - I can’t even start to figure out what— where this is supposed to be, or when, or—” Oh no. It had all started to spill out and he had to bite into his cheek to stop himself, closing his eyes shut tight. He took a breath. When he opened them again, he started rummaging around, trying to find a drink.

That was a bad sign. He hated drinking. But even he felt like he needed one, right now.

“Okay, um, start with the easiest? How long have you been- um - here. Forever? Do you remember anything else, or — I mean - Death Brigade did say something weird about - worlds and - times, but I thought he meant that the timeline had just gotten - gotten really badly broken, so I— Do you know me from here, or - or from Toronto, or—”

[ Quite late on the night of the Imperious's sacking, Mingyu's phone starts to ring. That could only be one person, of course, one who is apparently quite busy -- it drops to voicemail before he can quite pick it up. ]

Mingyu. That boy of yours, from the photos.

[ his voice is low and heavy. ]

...he's not dead. He's here. He should be on his way with the rest of the refugees.

Should be well as far as I know, but -- [ the sarcasm is thick with this one ] If he doesn't show up intact, believe me, it's not for lack of trying.

I'll be in touch. Imperius out.

[ Bro, Archeval, my man, my pal. You completely dropped this trust fall.

Mingyu sees his phone blinking at him after Fox is asleep and crawls out of bed to get it, feeling a surreal sense of familiarity in his room in this foreign land, his boyfriend asleep in his bed, him sneaking out to check his phone notifications.

He steps into the hall to call Archeval back. Ring ring, motherfucker.

When Archeval picks up, without so much as a hello— ]

I'm just going out on a limb here and presuming in your very serious, very significant, cult-riddled previous line of work, you were given to understand the importance of not simply information, but the timing of said information?

[ Mingyu can't see it, of course, but he's squinting irritably at his comm. ]

Did you find him? Because I can assure you I went to a very significant amount of effort to make sure he ended up at your side intact. You're welcome.

He found me, practically mid-coitus. It was excruciating.

[ Mingyu's voice is flat and bone-dry, but. Griping is a love language when it comes to the pair of them, right? ]

I'm not saying I don't appreciate your efforts, I'm just saying my deep and profound gratitude is somewhat tempered at the moment at the emotional toll of having the love of my life find out he's been missing and presumed dead for over a year and that I've become a sex worker in the interim in the most abrupt and agonizing way possible. And I haven't even figured out how I'm going to get around to the 'I'm seeing someone else' bit.

[ Mingyu has his coat, and he's walking down the hall. ]

Where are you staying at the moment? Not out in the streets, I hope?

Huh. That was fast. [ still sardonic. There's a pause in here where a normal person would probably offer some sort of... commiseration or reassurance or something. ]

--So you're actually fucking the man, are you? [ his voice drops into the familiar drawl ] Well thank the stars that he now has some genuine competition, maybe he can finally stop posturing at me.

Right now I'm in the basement. Only just sat down from a last bit of coordinating. [ sigh ] Probably shouldn't sleep here, but I'm not about to go wandering around in the open just hours after a mission like that. Why? Looking to deliver your grievances in person?

Worse, [ Mingyu forces out through clenched teeth, already well on his way to the basement. ] I've caught feelings for him, like an idiot, and if you even think about repeating that to anyone only one of us is walking out of the basement.

[ A pause. ]

You have dinner yet?

Edited 2021-05-18 20:59 (UTC)

...I suppose not, in all the commotion.

[ and he pauses too. The perpetually abrasive Dark Lord sounds a little more uncertain of himself than Mingyu will be used to. ]

...

......you didn't know, though.

[ his voice is a little hushed. ]

No one can wait around for the dead forever. Or. Shouldn't, anyway.

I appreciate that. However, in practice I apparently was willing to wait about a year.

[ There's a huff of breath and then Mingyu pauses, hearing something in the quiet of Archeval's words. ]

That wouldn't be the voice of experience I hear, would it?

[ the other end of the line is dead silent for another second or three before he finally just gives a soft, resigned sigh. ]

I've been fighting the same stupid war for nigh on a decade. What do you think?

......suppose it was about a year for me too. But I don't see the fault in that. He hardly died for me just so I could spend the rest of my life sitting around being bitter about it.

[ he certainly tries very hard to remind himself of that fact, anyway. What Rynn would say if he knew Arche had a fling with an actual, active-duty Republic spy he really can't imagine, but. ...Well. Maybe he'd just laugh.

It's a good thing they're still on the comm. It would be excruciating trying to say most of this to Mingyu's face. ]

...Anyhow, I didn't have a great deal of time to sit down and converse with the idiot I met last night but -- even with that brief acquaintance. [ a little more dryly now ] Surely you're not about to tell me that he's the jealous enough type to hold it over your head when you thought him literally, actually dead.

[ Mingyu doesn't answer for a long stretch. It almost sounds as though the call might have dropped, but then he sighs. ]

He's the godawful combination of jealous, insecure, and at all times ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good. There are many ways our talk could go, very few of them good. But it's my idiot and my mess.

[ A briefer pause. ]

You drink? I'll just presume that you drink and aren't picky. I'll be there in like ten.

[ even more bone-dry ]

I am picky, as it happens, but I will lower myself to whatever they have lying around on this rock. See you shortly.

[ he cuts off, and drags himself back to his feet to shuffle around tidying up where he's more or less just thrown his boots and helmet and half his armor down in this small corner of space. The basement isn't exactly a glamorous place to receive visitors, but at least right now it's mostly just Archeval, a lot of storage boxes, and a bare few others sleeping on the far side of the expansive room. He's guessing privacy will please Mingyu more than anything else at this particular juncture.

He's sitting on a crate leaned back against the wall when the other man arrives, giving his helmet a polish with a stolen rag. It's been a few months since old Lord Kallig's hand-me-down saw this kind of use. ]

So where was he, if not dead?

[ they're probably beyond the need for hellos and social niceties, right. ]

[ Mingyu's got dinner in one hand, a pretty hefty bottle of halfway decent booze in the other. His expression takes on a look of flat yet somehow fond irritation as he shakes his head at the manner of Archeval's greeting as well as the general state of their... accommodations.

He kicks a crate over to a halfway decent spot to sit, then plopped right down on the floor to start laying out their modest meal. No cups though, Archeval. Hope you don't mind sharing the bottle straight. ]

It's not him, [ Mingyu sighs in response as he finishes unpacking his haul, uncorking the bottle to take a swig since they're opening with this conversation. ] Not... exactly, anyway. So to answer your question—

He was two years in the past. None of what's going to happen to him has happened yet.

He was-- what?

[ he almost feels like he must have heard wrong, but -- that look on Mingyu's face, and the surface feelings that accompany it, are pretty hard to misinterpret. He casts the other man a tense look as he carefully sets the helmet down next to him. ]

...you have proof of this?

[ look, you've only recently introduced to him the idea that time travel even exists, okay. He stares over Mingyu's way for a long moment indeed before rising to join the other man next to their dinner. ]

[ Mingyu's expression remains flat and grim, taking another long drink before he passes the bottle to answer. ]

He's the proof. [ Shrugging, Mingyu picks up a piece of bread he brought and starts to pull it apart just for something to do with his hands, lotus tattoo itching where it's inked to his wrist. ]

A short while ago, before I came here. They found Fox's arm. Severed. One of my contacts got me in after hours so I could make sure it was his.

This Fox has both arms, wearing a favorite shirt he accidentally destroyed a couple years ago.

Proof enough for you?

[ his lips thin out into a line as his own expression sobers to match that dark look on Mingyu's face. ]

...the longer we are in this place, the less comprehensible it becomes.

[ he accepts the bottle to cast a brief irritable glance at the lip thereof, but he's certainly going to hear about it if he goes to the trouble of wiping off, so after a second he just sighs and takes a swig of his own. ]

Hm, not completely terrible. Will wonders never cease. [ he muses this in a deadpan before setting it back down between them. ]

So does this one know you're from his future? [ Fox surely hasn't heard what specifically happened to him, though, whatever the full details might be. Arche is pretty sure he's got Mingyu pegged in that respect at least. ] When I met him just earlier... well, he didn't mention anything about you. He was far more concerned with ferreting out the mystery of the mirror on that ship.

That's just his attention span, [ Mingyu snorts, though somehow it's very evident that he means the comment fondly. He can picture it perfectly, Fox all caught up in the chaos of it all, bright-eyed and eager, making smart comments about everything as he solved as many problems as he made, likely flippant about the very real danger he was in.

The idiot. His wonderful, perfect fool. ]

He didn't know, but he figured it out fairly quickly. [ At that, Mingyu's lips thin in displeasure. He's reduced the bread to crumbs and just sort of stares at the mess he's made. It's fine, the rats will probably get it. Sorry, Archeval. ]

It turns out of all the things I've gotten better at, lying to him isn't one of them.

[ luckily, he's not unused to killing vermin, even if it's not his favorite activity. He reaches over for some of the bread himself in case Mingyu decides to move onto another piece, though.

No comment about the mess. He did far worse to his own quarters after Rynn died. ]

...If I were to speculate, I suppose someone as cagey as you needs at least one being to be habitually honest with, hm?

[ the words are murmured out dryly, but not without compassion, as he layers the bread with... ...well, this looks like some kind of thin-sliced protein, but he doesn't know what most of the food on this rock is actually called. It smells edible, good enough. ]

Well. The situation is shit and will presumably remain shit, but at least you get to spend time with him. Silver lining of ending up in this hellhole?

[ he gives a shrug before tucking into his sandwich. ]

It's not a silver lining. It's everything. [ Mingyu murmurs this after a pause, heaving out a sigh. He actually does pick up one of the probably-apples he found and turns it over in his hand before biting into it, then motions for the drink to be passed back. ]

It's a mess, and I would've vastly preferred some kind of heads up, [ he goes on to say dryly, but then his voice softens as he goes on. ] ...but. It's all I could've asked for of anything, of anywhere. I'll get it figured out.

[ He looks over at Archeval, the distant hint of tenderness on his features as he smiles in an echo of his much younger, less burdened self. ]

Thanks. For helping him. For helping me. I know I've been a shitty person and a shittier friend this whole while, but.

I appreciate it.

[ A pause, then— ]

...what was his name?

[ he just... blinks, for a second. Brow furrowing as he gives a little squint, something a bit more vulnerable than usual passing across his face in response to that moment of sincerity. He plainly didn't expect any of this, certainly not being thanked for his trouble.

His shoulders hunch, just a little, as his gaze flicks off to one side. ]

........Sirynn. Just Rynn, to most of us.

[ it feels strange in his mouth now. He hasn't exactly had much reason to say it out loud as of late.

He turns the half-eaten sandwich over in his hands a little, his own voice a soft murmur in turn. ]

...you remind me a little of him. Mostly the annoying, insufferable quality.

[ taking a deep breath, sighing it out as he purses his lips-- ]

And no, that's not why I helped you with the sewing, so don't even start.

[ he sets down his food for a moment to contrarily stop and take a swig of booze before shoving the bottle back across their makeshift table. ]

...anyhow. You're welcome.

Annoying? Insufferable? [ Mingyu lets out a breath of a laugh, taking the bottle back to take a drink as well. He paces himself, however, figuring Archeval needs it more at this point. ] Are you sure I don't just remind you of you?

[ Sighing, he lifts the bottle to the air, tipping it at the emptiness. ]

To Sirynn, then. I'll try to look after your idiot best I can, so rest well.

[ he gives a little swallow, still looking... vaguely, uncomfortably surprised.

When Mingyu is done with the bottle, he tugs it back for a moment to stare up at the dark ceiling. ]

Rest well. I'm not sorry you're not here because you'd absolutely be into the booze and already crying about leaving Cindy by now. ...and say hello to that old friend of yours for me, I suppose.

[ it's a lie. He's always sorry Rynn's not here. But Mingyu probably understands that, if anyone does.

Arche takes one more swig from the bottle before figuring he should take a break for a little while, nudging it back in the other direction. ]

....and no, believe me, you had some of the same manner about you. I'm not going to tell you about all the annoying things he liked to do because you'll promptly adopt half of them immediately just to irritate me. And I'll be too guilty to bother you into stopping. [ giving a little hmph, and then a dry look in Mingyu's direction: ]

Anyhow, this isn't about me. I believe you came down here to complain my ear off, now didn't you? I'll have you know I was still in the middle of coordinating the whole damn op and the comm chatter was such a mess I barely had time to get in touch with the people inside the damn ship--...

[ nothing does the trick for putting a fellow asshole at ease like a good petty argument, right? Right. Not that he's doing this to comfort Mingyu or anything silly like that, it's simply unreasonable to expect Arche to busy himself playing messenger at such a crucial moment...

But as they sit there over their late dinner sniping at each other about the nitpicky details of the whole matter, perhaps -- just perhaps -- he feels a little more steady himself. ]

Edited 2021-06-22 19:46 (UTC)

The girls have taken a shine to Vanya, which is nice, really, even if it flusters her a little. Her eyes linger a little too long, staring awkwardly in slack-awed sort of way before she realizes, gets flustered and stammers out an apology, running into a pole or something.

Some of them like that, though, finding it cute. Some of the apprentices take to Vanya too, wanting to hear her violin or talk to her, finding it fun to fluster her. It's fine, once in a while, but Vanya's taken to trying to hide more often than not. So when she sees a particularly clingy apprentice girl, panic takes over all higher decision making and she turns, fumbling with the handle of the closest door. Not too long after a customer's left, Vanya stumbles into the room and slams the door shut, leaning against it and taking a few deep breaths.

"...Very smooth." She mutters after a moment, closing her eyes and sighing to herself, thunking her head a little against the door.

Mingyu, for once, isn't expecting company. It's after hours for him, his last client for the night just left, and he was actually thinking of stepping out to do a little shopping for necessities now that Fox is here causing him wonderful, blissful, endless problems.

But then someone comes into his room, muttering to... herself? And after studying her a moment from the other side of his room partition, his eyes light up with mischief recognizing the young, unfortunate lady who's stumbled into his room.

He saw her with Five, an urgency in the deceptively young geriatric in their midst Mingyu placed as 'local ruthless bastard inconvenienced by people they unfortunately love'.

He stops trying to fix his robe, sauntering out with most of it slipping off his lithe frame.

"I usually require clients to schedule," he calls out to her, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his otherwise sweet face. "But I suppose I could take exception for a delicious morsel like you."

Vanya freezes, staring at the wood grain on the door in growing horror. Oh no.

Oh no.

She supposed in some ways she’s a bit lucky. After all, this could’ve been MUCH worse: she could’ve walked in on an active session!

She turns around slowly and immediately turns bodily to avert her gaze, speaking to the doorframe as if she were an unfortunate Victorian gentleman catching a glimpse of unchaperoned ankle.

“I- I don’t— Sorry, there was just. I won’t be here long. And I’m not here for all. That. Which I’m sure is lovely. You’re probably great at... that.”

She closes her eyes, her brain silently begging for her mouth to shut up dear god please why are you still going.

Vanya wished she knew, brain. She wished she knew.

She risks another glance at Mingyu, her entire face a cherry. “I don’t have a penis.” She blurts out and the sheer force of the cringing she does nearly knocks her head into the door as she turns to press her hand against the door and lean over. For a moment it’s as though the door and the hand upon it were all that kept her upright under the crushing weight of her own mortification.

That statement from Vanya is so wholly unexpected that Mingyu stops dead in his tracks, visibly stunned, blinking several times as his brain tries to parse her protest and the journey she must have taken to get there, to think a lack of a penis would somehow disqualify her from his services. Or that he would have somehow presumed she did, and this was the thing between them that needed clearing up the most. He lets out a breathy half laugh, only just stopping himself from bursting into giggles.

He crosses the room the rest of the way over to her, reaching out to place his hand over her own where it's resting on her only escape route. He leans into croon softly into her ear.

Five is going to kill him, and honestly it's fair enough.

".......would you like one?"

Vanya thought that it couldn't possibly get any worse, and yet...

She makes a strangled shrieking noise as all the lights seem to suddenly glow much, much brighter as she attempts some sort of graceful get away that is not at all graceful. She attempts to sort of elbow at Mingyu's chest while trying to dive under his arm, only really succeeding at flopping to the ground like an undignified magikarp.

MagiVanya tried to escape!

It failed...

She sits on the floor and squeezes her eyes shut a moment, getting control of her racing heart and forcing the lights to go back to normal. "Y-you really couldn't do that." And then, because of course this is the part that needs clarifying: "Surprise me. I mean, you probably shouldn't give me a--" She gestures vaguely at his crotch area, "either, but I have a... bad heart."

She blurts it out and then immediately makes a sort of face at herself as if the excuse was extremely lame even to her own ears and she was cringing at herself.

[ ooc: directly after this thread. ]

By the time he got to Mingyu's rooms, he was no longer relieved. Or calm. Or anything. Instead, he had been spending the last hour going over and over what he'd said in his head and mentally kicking himself for it. Idiot. God. Fucking idiot. What right did he have to be jealous, of all things?

It wasn't like--

It wasn't like Mingyu had promised him anything. As far as Mingyu had known, Fox was dead. Might still be dead, thanks to timey whimey bullshit. Who knew.

So he was all worked up and awkward and running his hands over eachother again and again as he got up to the door. He hated this? He hated feeling so awkward around Mingyu, hated feeling jealous, hated feeling lost. He'd been trying so hard to put on a brave face, pretend everything was fine, that it was all back to normal and--

And none of it was. He couldn't even reasonably expect it to be. And it tore him up inside.

As soon as the door opened, however, he pushed a smile back onto his face and stepped in.

"Hey, um - Was I supposed to bring the food? I didn't even ask. I didn't bring any food. I hope that doesn't mean we're having air for dinner."

Nothing ever turned out the way Mingyu expected it to, and he was beginning to consider the possibility that he just wasn't very bright. Every major event of his life thus far had unfailingly blindsided him, the good and the bad. The loss of his parents, meeting Fox. Losing him. Getting him back. No one could've foreseen being here, so Mingyu didn't dwell on meeting Lee Chang, on his actions since arriving, but everything else—

It wasn't that he didn't think he would get Fox back. It was that getting Fox back felt nothing like he imagined it would be, and he imagined it over and over and over again. A thousand different times and ways.

Mingyu was at a loss. He didn't know what to do, how to proceed, how to keep Fox now that he had him once more. All he really wanted to do was stop hurting the brightest soul he'd ever known.

By the time Fox came in, there was a modest meal on the table of roasted meats and bread, some hearty vegetable soup. The nicest he could come up with on short notice, nothing like they'd eat at home.

For the first time in recent memory, Mingyu missed being in the kitchen.

This was the effect Fox had on him.

"I always make sure there's dinner, Huli," he teased softly in return, motioning for the other to sit. Next to him, close enough to touch. It felt less natural than he hoped.

"Who do you think you're talking to? In fact, who do you think you are, Mr. Forgets His Own Lunch Sitting Next to Him."

“That’s— that’s different!” He protested, but it was, in fact, not different at all.

It was weird coming to Mingyu like this. The wrong food on the table. The wrong rooms. Rooms that were Mingyu’s rooms, not his, not theirs. It felt ludicrous, because even a few years ago it wouldn’t have mattered. He hadn’t had his own space since he was a teenager, and definitely not a shared home. It would have been easy and fine to adjust.

But now… now he was overcome with an intense wave of homesickness, as he looked at the man who should have felt like home and yet still kept feeling slightly off.

But he had promised himself to get over it, to set it aside, to not make it any worse for Mingyu than it was. So he kept the smile on his lips and took the seat that was offered, leaning over to smell the meal.

“I could have remembered. If I knew I needed to. Probably.”

Actual likelihood: 4% chance.

After his meeting with Mistress Tamaiu, Mingyu returned—late—to their current encampment. He went directly back to his quarters, shut himself therein, and began to pace. He sealed the door, carved wards into the walls, searched every inch for corruption, for magic, for cracks. He turned over the sparse furniture as though they might hold answers from him as they sat. Finally, exhausted, he curled up against a wall, tearing hands through his hair as he shakily reached into his clothes for his spell paper. He worked one into a rough shape, stamped it with a thumbprint of blood.

A paper bird fluttered its uneven wings as the magic took hold, rustling with each movement, hopping up into its masters cupped hands.

"Find him," he whispered to his creation. "Bring him to me."

The paper bird gave another rustle, wind whistling through its hollow form in answer, then took flight.

Fox was working in - well, it couldn't be called his room, exactly, because that would imply that there was any furniture at all, and there wasn't. He had shoved all the furniture - including the bed - out into the hall for someone else to use and had cleared the entire space (small but workable) into his work area. It was covered in notes in every form and fashion, including a section entirely devoted to the pieces of mirror that he had stolen from the ship. It was this that he was working on now, humming to himself to initiate the magic that helped illuminate traces of lost spells, when a little paper bird flitted through the small gap under the floor and landed on his hand, just above the magpie tattoo on his wrist. He paused, blinking down at it, the vivid green light of magic fading in his eyes as the bird rustled and twirled, giving message as clear as any words. He was wanted. Right now.

The magpie tattoo itself seemed agitated, somehow, weaving back and forth on his wrist as if pacing, and he idly stroked it as if doing so would soothe it.

"Alright," He murmured to the paper bird as he put his things away and stood up. "Go on, lead the way.

As soon as he stepped out of his door, he triggered the warding sigil and the protective spirit that he had enchanted the room with - anyone who somehow got passed the magical mechanism would find themselves face to face with a large, ghostly fox. Not that he was really worried about people being able to decipher his notes, but - well - it was habit.

The bird fluttered before him until he reached the familiar door, and he paused at it before knocking.

"... It's me. You okay?"

Hearing Fox's voice, Mingyu made a midair gesture and the paper bird flew into the door, going to ash, its magic spent. The door swung open with it, allowing Fox in, before slamming shut. Mingyu did not rise, sat there curled against the wall, though he did look up just to put eyes on Fox. To see him, to see that he was safe, whole, well.

"Huli," he whispered. "I thought I was so clever. I thought I was careful enough. Cruel enough. Meticulous enough. I thought I was—"

He gave a hoarse, strangled laugh, his last words coming out soft and quiet and mocking.

"...I thought I was enough."

Fox had an unfortunately good imagination, so immediately a million terrible things came to mind that could have happened to Mingyu that would make him this upset. Most of them involved Mingyu working at the brothel, and he could feel his heart lodge into his throat as he stepped over and the crouched down next to the man, reaching out to brush fingers over his cheek.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Are you in trouble?”

one day I might not make it back home (may catch-all)

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earlier, on the commlink... [voice]

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Jealousy and other Demons

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for fox, post tamaiu visit;

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