lucetilogs | Post-Event Reaction Log!

Entry tags:

Post-Event Reaction Log!

Who: Everybody
What: Post-Event Reactions
When: Today (and tomorrow too)
Where: Anywhere
Summary: Most of Luceti was back to their normal selves. Not only that, but they now remembered their trips to other worlds. So how 'bout that?
Rating: Whatever

This is for today and tomorrow, since not everyone will be fully reverted until then. Remember to tag your characters in!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's surprisingly difficult to make eye contact with Don right now, but Robert does it anyway, searching their deep brown depths for... something.]

... I... [Thickly:] ... T-Trust that, er, this last week was... d-difficult for you, and... and for that, I... I must... a-apologize.

I... I was n-not myself. [No matter how much he thought he was.]

[Don crosses his arms and looks away, closing himself off.]

I don't think any of us were.

[That hurts. Robert does the same, though he looks down at the floor instead.]

... I... [I thought having feelings for you was wrong.] ... was m-misguided...

...

... [Please don't hate him, Don. Please.]

[He doesn't hate you; he just needs to think.]

It wasn't you. Why are you apologizing?

B-Because I... I am ashamed of myself, and... [Even though it wasn't himself, he... still feels like he needs to do something.

He isn't holding Don to that same standard.]

Don, I... ... I thought it was... shameful to... to h-have feelings for you... That you were different...

[Like a Pokémon. Still a being, still brilliant, but... but not the same as a human.

It disgusts him now, to think like that.]

[Don glances back to give Robert a disbelieving look. Who knew it would take a bizarre experiment to wake the man up to reality.]

[It's not his reality. It's not any reality he can logically justify.

He shakes his head vehemently.]

To think I was even capable of... of feeling like that...

[And, softer:] ... Was... was that how others saw... Mewtwo...?

[Don runs a hand down his face. Part of him hates to do this, to shatter what's unique and innocent and wonderful about his partner. But after his recent visit home, a bigger part needs Robert to understand.]

Robert... that's how everyone sees me.

[The reply is immediate; a reflex. The same kind of blind Terran reflex that should be familiar to Don.]

They are misguided.

You are no different... from anyone else.

[Of course there are differences. Anybody could see that.

What Robert means, though, is that there's no difference that matters. (But isn't that subjective?)]

[Don is familiar with this reflex. From his upbringing, Robert refuses to see the difference. Maybe the knowledge really doesn't even make it into his consciousness. But on some level, he has to recognize it.]

[Don pokes a finger in Robert's direction and spells it out for him.]

I. Am not. Human. I am not at all human. Most people think I'm kind of a freak and almost everyone thinks this - [He stirs his finger in the air, indicating their relationship.] - is disgusting and perverted. I don't really care, because I love you, obliviousness and all. But they're not entirely wrong.

[He stops there, waiting for the fallout.]

[There are several long seconds of dead silence, during which Robert quietly stares, not-quite-seeing, at Don.

He picks through the memories in his mind, the memories that clash with the things he knows are real and true to him, by Terran standards - years and years of another world that he simultaneously feels drawn to and repelled by -

- What does he say to that?]

No. No, you are... n-not a human.

But why... why do you have to be...? Why does that make you... less? Why does that make you... different?

Why does that make this wrong? [There's an edge of almost-desperation in Robert's voice, as if the mere fact that some kind of justification for what he views as a bigoted, hateful feeling could possibly exist is a horror that needs to be immediately excised.

Slumping, Robert continues, in a much quieter tone:]

I love you for... wh-who you are...

[Never mind that for a week he remembers the shame at the twisted feelings, at knowing that loving a Pokémon - or even someone like one - was wrong.]

[Don slumps too. He just broke his partner. He can only hope it makes him stronger in the end.]

[More quietly:] Different isn't a mathematical operator. Two plus two and ten minus six both resolve to four, but that doesn't make them the same equation. Which one is better depends on what problem you're trying to solve.

[He pauses, thinking through the analogy.]

Some people only see one problem. You... only see one solution. You don't know who I am.

[That one is going to hurt Robert further, but... tactical strikes. Worsening the wound, so it will heal right.]

[He's right; it does hurt, unimaginably. Robert crumples inward.]

Then... who are you...?

[And by extension, who was he in love with for a year and a half?]

[Don watches Robert for a moment, then turns suddenly. In one flash a shuriken has appeared in his hand; in the next it's pinned a falling leaf to a tree.]

Largely that.

[Robert closes his eyes a moment after, exhaling slowly.

Just as softly as before:]

... Did you... w-want me to be a part of that...?

You never seemed to... care b-before... [Was this always important to Don? Why didn't Don tell him?

Don knows he can't understand unless he's told, at point blank...]

I want you to accept it. I've been waiting for you to be ready...

[But progress has been so slow.]

[Robert's voice is almost hurt-sounding when he responds.]

You gave... little indication that it mattered before...

And, and this still does not make you something other; it does not make you... not a person.

...

[Lowly:] I... have a-always tried my best to accept any differences we have... does this mean I have... f-failed?

[Robert, you're breaking his heart. If you couldn't even identify ninjutsu as something important to Don, you really don't know him.]

No.

[Short. Terse. They need to talk more about this, but he doesn't want to say anything without thinking it through.]

[Don has done a spectacularly good job of covering up how much it specifically matters, or at least in making it seem as such. And Robert does know it's something notable in Don's life... but what has he ever seen but the side that loves science, that would rather be tinkering in his lab with his machines?

Robert doesn't trust that reaction. He doesn't trust anything right now, not even his own thoughts and feelings.

Stuck in the middle of two distinct mindsets, embroiled in confused emotion and unable to express it through any other thing, Robert simply stands there, cringes away from Don, and cries.

He brings a hand up almost immediately to catch the tears, but he doesn't do anything to hide it, despite the event-instilled part of him that feels - still - like he should.]

Edited 2012-04-17 03:04 (UTC)

[Don hates himself so much right now. He slumps back against the wall of the house, covers his face, and cries a little too.]

[A few seconds pass this way, them both faced away from each other, weeping softly into their hands. They tick by to the sounds of ragged, wet breathing, of desperate attempt to control emotion.

Robert finally regains his composure enough to sob once, push his glasses up a little to wipe his eyes on the back of his hand, and then take one shuddering breath.]

... D-Don...

... a-a-am I... truly good for you, if... if th-this is... wrong to your p-perspective...?

Do you w-want this...? Do you want... me?

[The last person who said "You don't know me" left him.

And that was five years ago.]

[Don keeps his eyes covered. If he looks, he won't be able to say what needs to be said.]

Robert, there is no right for me. This is the best I get. Are you okay with that?

[Softly:] A-All I want is... for you to be h-happy...

And, if... if I am... f-failing to make you happy, then... [Then he's not doing a good enough job.]

I do not w-want to fail you, Don... I l-love you...

[Don looks now, trying to meet Robert's gaze. He wants the man to know how true this is.]

You make me so happy, you've raised my standards of happy to levels I wouldn't have even imagined two years ago. You didn't fail; you graduated.

[This is slightly reassuring; despite this, though, Robert's smile is... broken-edged.]

B-But... then this... it is c-clearly a problem...

[Is it an insurmountable one?]

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