[ There it is. The hug. Just asking for it is a thing he can do--and Jedao isn't even rolling his eyes. They haven't even gotten past the small talk Roman was fully expecting to endure, what little layers of attitude left immediately shedding.
He hugs Jedao like a lifeline, and he's proud he doesn't cry. Holds it, even, burying his face into the half-crook of Jedao's neck, pulling away only after a few moments. ]
Thank you. [ He sounds like he's just been chided for some reason, sniffing slightly as he looks down. ]
[ It's Roman's turn to laugh at the absurdity of it, gingerly holding it by the handle and then just taken aback. It's bizarre. It's silly.
It's handmade, and that's what makes it perfect. Roman laughs again, harder, though the giggle is high for a reason that's not delight. It's awful close to him about to cry. He draws it in like he's about to hug it despite the temperature, breathing out. ]
You can come in.
[ He needs to move. He does so, it just takes him a few seconds, staring at the cup like he's never seen anything like it before. He doesn't have much, but what he does have that's personal is almost exclusively from the barge. From people like Jedao.
Drink it, it's supposed to be soothing or whatever.
[Which it is - lavender and camomile and a good dollop of honey. Also, once he finishes the tea, he'll see, at the very bottom of the mug, a one-line doodle like something scribbled in the margins of a boring schoolbook: a little cartoon dick and balls, for laughs.
Jedao steps inside, giving Roman a firm, warm squeeze on the shoulder, even though he's already had the first hug, and gently towing him toward whatever looks like the comfiest furniture.]
[ Roman's place, while only slightly cluttered--he's surprisingly neat, just not right now--is expansive, a sprawling New York City skyline below the expensive penthouse.
Roman himself is clinging to the cup like a lifeline, unable to quite look at Jedao in the eye just yet, halfway through and yet to receive the hidden message. His words are small and mumbled. ]
[Jedao tells him mildly, steering them to the least uncomfortable looking couch and sliding an arm around Roman's shoulders, encouraging him to lean into Jedao without having to meet his eyes.]
Trust me, I'm a space man.
[And what do you know! They're in space right now. Technically.]
[ It's bleak, but hey, he's joking a little: he does lean into Jedao's half-steering, face still leaning on Jedao as he takes a sip. When was the last time he had someone make tea for him? His mom?
He takes another sip. This isn't his mom. This is actually nice, and sweet. And-- ]
Did you draw a cock and balls on the bottom? [ That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever done. ]
[ It doesn't mean he's disinterested. It means he has to do the toxically masculine move of complaining about it first, just to show how manly and above it all he is. ]
Actually he means 'I was never a drill sergeant but I've met some and I could destroy you completely in ten minutes,' but this is the consequence for making innuendo as often as he does do it.
"Come downstairs. I have programs and stuff for it," Jedao tells him, putting the FRIENF mug into the sink - then after a second of realzing Roman definitely isn't going to wash it himself, rinsing it for a few seconds before he turns to go.
Roman doesn't bat an eye when Jedao does--it's kindness but a type that Roman doesn't even think to thank, he's so used to it--and he's already making his way out of his room.
"And maybe some more of that tea?" he asks hopefully.
It's a few floors down, and Jedao's room is, in a quiet, off-kilter way, not unlike Roman's. There's the same sense classy quality to things, an elegance to the way everything goes together, even though Jedao's room is all gentle greens and pale wood instead of monochrome and glass.
Jedao throws one of the couch cushions on the floor in front of the large screen of the wall terminal.
"It's going to take a couple minutes for the tea to steep. Sit there and watch the screen. Try to notice everything you can."
The image on the screen is beautiful, intricate, and strange. It's an underwater scene, with glimmering tropical fish moving in and out of a maze of coral and roots. Some are alone, some moving in huge, smoothly coordinated schools.
"But it's just some fish," Roman says the moment he sits down, clearly confused.
But sure, he can do this hippie dippie bullshit. He asked for it, and he trusts Jedao not to make fun of him. So he sits in the familiar elegant cube of a cabin, breathing out.
"Keep doing it until I finish the tea," Jedao says, just a tiny bit dryly.
"Try to just...let everything else you're holding and feeling shitty about fall away. Let the water pour into you. There's just the water and the fish. There's no space for other stuff."
This really, really is stupid. He doesn't know why he asked. Roman thinks meditation's the dumbest thing in the universe, always has--it's hippie bullshit, it's yoga and oat milk lattes, it's universal health care and tarot card readings--and he doesn't quite understand how you can just allow the weight of everything to slough off because you're staring at some bubbles.
But he quiets down at least, and focuses on what's in front of him. The anxiety, the worry, the fucking vice grip of uncertainty that's consistently battering him, even before his dad and even before he came onto this ship? It doesn't go away but he finds himself just.... not thinking about it.
Not thinking about anything, really, except what Jedao said. Just what's in front of him.
A quiet Roman is always a strange thing, and his posture's shit, but it looks like Roman's actively zoning out in a way that's very similar to what Jedao described.
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He hugs Jedao like a lifeline, and he's proud he doesn't cry. Holds it, even, burying his face into the half-crook of Jedao's neck, pulling away only after a few moments. ]
Thank you. [ He sounds like he's just been chided for some reason, sniffing slightly as he looks down. ]
What's--what does that say?
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[He hands the mug over.]
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It's handmade, and that's what makes it perfect. Roman laughs again, harder, though the giggle is high for a reason that's not delight. It's awful close to him about to cry. He draws it in like he's about to hug it despite the temperature, breathing out. ]
You can come in.
[ He needs to move. He does so, it just takes him a few seconds, staring at the cup like he's never seen anything like it before. He doesn't have much, but what he does have that's personal is almost exclusively from the barge. From people like Jedao.
From frienfs. ]
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[Which it is - lavender and camomile and a good dollop of honey. Also, once he finishes the tea, he'll see, at the very bottom of the mug, a one-line doodle like something scribbled in the margins of a boring schoolbook: a little cartoon dick and balls, for laughs.
Jedao steps inside, giving Roman a firm, warm squeeze on the shoulder, even though he's already had the first hug, and gently towing him toward whatever looks like the comfiest furniture.]
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Roman himself is clinging to the cup like a lifeline, unable to quite look at Jedao in the eye just yet, halfway through and yet to receive the hidden message. His words are small and mumbled. ]
Thank you, Jedao.
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[Jedao tells him mildly, steering them to the least uncomfortable looking couch and sliding an arm around Roman's shoulders, encouraging him to lean into Jedao without having to meet his eyes.]
Trust me, I'm a space man.
[And what do you know! They're in space right now. Technically.]
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[ It's bleak, but hey, he's joking a little: he does lean into Jedao's half-steering, face still leaning on Jedao as he takes a sip. When was the last time he had someone make tea for him? His mom?
He takes another sip. This isn't his mom. This is actually nice, and sweet. And-- ]
Did you draw a cock and balls on the bottom? [ That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever done. ]
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I'm going to treasure it always. Put it in a museum. You know how many people would pay for this?
[ This is easier. This is much easier. Jedao knows exactly how to handle him, which should annoy him, but it doesn't. ]
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[Jedao gives him another loose, warm squeeze around the shoulders.]
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Hey, Jed, you... How do you turn your brain off when you're going through something shitty? You've done it before, right?
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That metaphor got away from me, sorry.
The simplest way to jam a channel is with noise. For your brain, that means sensory stuff.
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So, what? Masturbate until it all goes away? I'm already shooting dust.
[ It's a joke. Mostly. He's trying, at the very least. ]
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[ It doesn't mean he's disinterested. It means he has to do the toxically masculine move of complaining about it first, just to show how manly and above it all he is. ]
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[Jedao gives him an absolutely evil grin.]
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[ Oh, wait, unless he means that exercise--Roman gets the joke a split second too late, and points. ]
You fucking dick.
Fine, then. Teach me how to, you know. "Meditate"
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"Come downstairs. I have programs and stuff for it," Jedao tells him, putting the FRIENF mug into the sink - then after a second of realzing Roman definitely isn't going to wash it himself, rinsing it for a few seconds before he turns to go.
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"And maybe some more of that tea?" he asks hopefully.
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It's a few floors down, and Jedao's room is, in a quiet, off-kilter way, not unlike Roman's. There's the same sense classy quality to things, an elegance to the way everything goes together, even though Jedao's room is all gentle greens and pale wood instead of monochrome and glass.
Jedao throws one of the couch cushions on the floor in front of the large screen of the wall terminal.
"It's going to take a couple minutes for the tea to steep. Sit there and watch the screen. Try to notice everything you can."
The image on the screen is beautiful, intricate, and strange. It's an underwater scene, with glimmering tropical fish moving in and out of a maze of coral and roots. Some are alone, some moving in huge, smoothly coordinated schools.
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But sure, he can do this hippie dippie bullshit. He asked for it, and he trusts Jedao not to make fun of him. So he sits in the familiar elegant cube of a cabin, breathing out.
"I just--I just treat it like it's TV?"
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Jedao's fucking weird.
But Roman's going to at least try, because Jedao says it helps. He inhales, is quiet for a few seconds, and....
"Then what?"
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"Try to just...let everything else you're holding and feeling shitty about fall away. Let the water pour into you. There's just the water and the fish. There's no space for other stuff."
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But he quiets down at least, and focuses on what's in front of him. The anxiety, the worry, the fucking vice grip of uncertainty that's consistently battering him, even before his dad and even before he came onto this ship? It doesn't go away but he finds himself just.... not thinking about it.
Not thinking about anything, really, except what Jedao said. Just what's in front of him.
A quiet Roman is always a strange thing, and his posture's shit, but it looks like Roman's actively zoning out in a way that's very similar to what Jedao described.
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