deuceoftears | TLV IC Inbox

"Much better than I would have expected," he says honestly. "It would take me three or four days to heal this much, without your help."

He drops a kiss on Gonou's forehead and fusses for a few seconds over making sure his pillows are comfortable before he goes to find the tea kettle.

It's a relief to hear -- yes, of course, he's still the one who'd done all the damage, but he's glad that he can at least alleviate it.

He'd seemed to have a much finer control of that healing power as his older self, he reflects, considering his clawed hands. It's a skill worth developing.

His kettle is tucked among the pots on his windowsill; the kettle itself, bought in New York, rests on a solar-powered base. He's found it doesn't get quite enough energy to work unless he pushes it up beside the window most of the time.

"The water jug is on the sideboard," he offers, trying not to feel too useless as he relaxes back against the comfortably fussed-over pillows. "I feel -- better too. I think you're medicinal."

"Physical touch releases a number of hormones that reduce the activity of the stress system, which in turn promotes more effective healing," Jedao tells him absently; he had plenty of lectures from his therapists on the interactions of oxytocin and cortisol when they were trying to talk him into sleeping with a professional.

"Mm, I see," Gonou says very seriously, pulling his knees up into a half-folded seat and resting his hands on his ankles as he smiles at Jedao. "It also helps that it's you."

"You definitely haven't tested that," Jedao teases, instead of ungratefully pointing out that if it was someone else, Gonou would probably have spent less of his own energy healing them.

"Well," Gonou admits, smiling a little, "no. It's unscientific. Tea in the top drawer, under the water jug."

He settles back into his pillows and watches Jedao make tea, something wistful lingering on his face even as he smiles. He's letting himself be, selfishly, intensely grateful that the past versions of people couldn't change the past.

"What are you thinking about?" Jedao asks, returning to catch Gonou's expression after setting everything up.

"Ah--" Caught, he ducks his chin, ears reddening. He knows it's selfish, and painfully so, but he doesn't want to lie.

"I'm -- thinking I'm glad that the past couldn't change."

Jedao leans over him, catches Gonou's chin and tilts it back up, gives him a slow, deep kiss.

"I don't want to not be me," Jedao tells him, just a little bit surprised to hear it in his own voice, to realize with a faint quaver of trepidation, that it's completely true. "I want to be me, here, now."

Gonou's stubborn for a second as Jedao catches his chin, but yields quickly, melting into the kiss despite his initial moment of resistance.

Softly, he confesses, "I want you as you are, here and now, too. But I still wish there could have been less pain on the way." For Jedao himself, for people he cared about... but if there's no helping the pain, then he can at least be glad that Jedao is who he is now, and -- and that it's who he wants to be.

"I don't know if there was any saving him, really," Jedao muses, eyes closed, resting his forehead briefly on Gonou's. "Nobody gets out of their first war unscathed." There's an urge to add, also, he was an idiot, but they both have enough self-hatred to deal with without Jedao wallowing.

"Maybe not," Gonou murmurs. "But you were so young."

He -- isn't hating himself about this, particularly, to his surprise. He's worrying about Jedao and Eiffel, he's upset about remembering his claws carving into them while he didn't care, but he also feels...

... as if that really wasn't him, no matter how well he remembers his actions. He's not even convinced that future-self knew him. He'd just been-- wrong. That's all. It's a strangely freeing thought.

Jedao laughs softly.

"So young. Poor Kujen. He went to so much trouble to make himself a general and all he got for it was a whole baby."

"That's the thing about people," Gonou says softly, "no one's technology can really make them to fit."

He kisses Jedao again-- his Jedao, here and now, surviving through all his turmoil, and pulls back to murmur, "I think the water's boiling."

Jedao goes and pours the water, bringing over the steeping teacups so they're on hand when they're ready.

"Anyway. Thank you for being kind to me when I was young and clueless. I know you would, but just - thank you."

"You were a cute baby," Gonou says, wry, and reaches out to lace their fingers together. "It wasn't difficult to be kind. But you're welcome.

"Thank you for being kind to me when I was old and stubborn."

"Old and stubborn and hot," Jedao complains, before stealing another kiss. "And I know trying to save him, not knowing what would happen, wasn't actually easy. You're better than you give yourself credit for at any age."

"But difficult to proposition," Gonou says, teasing a little as he rests his forehead against Jedao's. He remembers all that miserable, lonely certainty, and can't help but wonder if that could have been him, if he'd lived.

Lucky he hadn't.

"It wasn't easy to try to save him," he adds, giving in to Jedao's choice of third person. "But it was easy being kind. Was that the only age you changed to?"

He hasn't exactly checked the network yet, having been... distracted.

"I wanted him to pull my hair so bad," Jedao mutters, in a rueful faux-sulk, before his expression closes off at the question, going flat and blank.

He checks on the tea, hands Gonou a cup.

"No. But I don't really want to think about the other one."

Gonou wraps his hands around the teacup; the look he gives Jedao over the rim is dark-eyed with concern, but instead of pushing, he scoots over on the bed, obviously making room next to himself.

Jedao takes his own cup and settles in.

"How are you, though? I mean - really."

"Better than I expected to be," he says quietly, leaning on Jedao's shoulder and taking a tiny sip of the tea. It's still too hot, but the warmth helps to ease the ache of his throat, makes his voice a touch less scratchy.

"It helps that I didn't kill anyone. But, also..." He watches the surface of his tea for a few seconds, trying to uncover the right phrasing, before he takes a sip. "It wasn't... do you know how it feels sometimes in breaches, as if that was a real you, but a little to the side?"

"Yeah," he answers, sipping his tea a little before nuzzling Gonou's hair a little.

"This feels like the opposite," Gonou murmurs, over another sip of tea. "Not a step to the side at all, even if he remembers things I don't... I think I learned a few things about how to use my powers from all of that.

"But. I don't feel as though he was me. I feel-- like he was wrong about me."

He breathes out, far too quietly to be a laugh, and tilts his head to glance up at Jedao. "Is that foolish?"

"Why would it be foolish?" he asks. "I mean - I think he was thinking of you as the person you were when you first died, because that was the only way he knew to. But you've changed a lot since then."

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