i've come to love your disappearing acts, do one more, pretty please

[campjesus]

Brody comes slinking back eventually.

Of course he does; where else would he go? He could get his own place, it's not hard, he's done it before... but he's not equipped to live by himself. Last time, it drove him crazy. He's not equipped to do anything, lately, he vacillates between locking himself in his room for days or disappearing outside, where he comes back looking dazed and sick. He's not getting any better, he's getting worse.

He doesn't have his key -- dropped it somewhere in Brooklyn, probably down a storm drain by now -- but that doesn't make getting in difficult, not when he's perfectly capable of scaling the walls and crawling in through the bathroom window. That should be too small for him to fit through, except for the fact that now he can fit anywhere his head fits into.

It's just not any fun to watch. Or do.

He comes back around to open the front door and bring the dog up, then shuts the door quietly behind them. Nothing in his hands, he didn't take anything with him and he doesn't bring anything back. He smells a little bit like carrion, indicating he probably ate at least once, but that's all. Maybe it's just from the dog.

Comments

[fuckvampires]

Harvestman has been splitting his time between work and Arashi, using the apartment for a place to crash and store his stuff, when he didn't end up staying elsewhere. He only comes home, quite often, to change from 'work clothes' (of passable decency) to 'non-work clothes' (of far less passable decency).

He can tell Brody's home before he even comes through the door, pausing just outside to debate what that means. There's no mistaking that smell, something he knew he should keep himself well aware of rather than dismissing it. He comes in, finally, throwing the lock behind him on instinct.

"Hey."

[campjesus]

"Hi." He's tense, that's pretty obvious from the way his shoulders are hunched and he refuses to make eye contact. His voice sounds hoarse, like he hasn't used it in a while. (He hasn't.)

The dog looks fatter. It glances once at Harvestman, gives the dog equivalent to a shrug and wanders off to go take a nap somewhere inconvenient.

Brody says nothing else. He wants to slip into his room and lock the door and not come out for another couple weeks, but figures that's probably not going to be happening.

[fuckvampires]

Sensing another drawn-out edition of painful attempts to elicit more than one word responses, Harvestman heads to the fridge to pour himself some blood. Since their apartment was tiny, doing so didn't move him from Brody's line of sight.

"I'm sorry, kiddo."

[campjesus]

Brody freezes as if he expects this to be some kind of trick. That sounds terrible and it is, but it also says a lot about his personal relationships. The smell of old blood makes his stomach churn. "Why?" he asks finally, which... child. Really.

[fuckvampires]

He searches around for a chair to sit in, finding none close enough that it wouldn't be awkward to go sit in it. With a sigh, he downs the rest of the blood like a shot instead. It tasted awful cold, anyway.

"I ain't too good at this. I say the wrong shit at the wrong time, I don't say the right shit at the right time, or at all. I'm kinda shit, at everything, is what I'm saying."

[campjesus]

This was not what he was expecting and it throws him off guard for about a minute. Then he reframes this into something he knows how to deal with. He's still not looking at him, instead focusing on picking at imaginary loose threads in the couch. "You are not."

[fuckvampires]

"That ain't really the point. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I could've done a lot better than I did." He rubs the bridge of his nose. "Fuck, probably sounded just like my dad."

Except Henry Sugihara didn't swear and harped on his son's use of non-standard English.

"What I'm trying to say, I guess, is that I was worried 'bout you. I am worried 'bout you. But there are better ways to do it."

[campjesus]

"I'm fine." That's the wrong thing to say, he knows it -- it's too obvious. He frowns and tries again. "I'm taking care of it. Sorry I like... freaked out, I just. Don't want to talk about it."

[fuckvampires]

"I know you don't want to talk about it," he says, his voice quiet. "But I don't want you to feel like that means you can't talk about it. And I don't want the subject dropped just because silence is easier."

[campjesus]

"Okay," he says. And... that's all. What else can he say? He doesn't want to talk about it, Harvestman's not going to push.

[fuckvampires]

The period of silence that follows is stretched far too long. That, sadly, was pretty typical of their conversations.

"I'm not gonna let this drop. Okay? I'm gonna keep asking, keep offering. I just want you to know that."