![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
.:Oh shit it's November:.
Who ⬤ Ganymede and Co.
What ⬤ You know what.
When ⬤ Nebulous times.
Where ⬤ Fine Wine, ΩQuiet Winter’s Wanderlust, Gany's McMansion, Net Slum, Protected Forbidden Pilgrim
Content Warnings ⬤ mentions of kidnapping, captivity, transphobia, dissociation, existential depression, and probably incoming other cws, lmao
What ⬤ You know what.
When ⬤ Nebulous times.
Where ⬤ Fine Wine, ΩQuiet Winter’s Wanderlust, Gany's McMansion, Net Slum, Protected Forbidden Pilgrim
Content Warnings ⬤ mentions of kidnapping, captivity, transphobia, dissociation, existential depression, and probably incoming other cws, lmao
cw: dissociation, captivity mentions
There's a sinking feeling again. He's saying all of this to cope with what's happened. He's — dissociating. That's the word for it and Ganymede knows this, because it's something he thinks he did when Apollo held him captive (he doesn't know he did this in a later memory, but the one returned to him has a lot of moments rolled into one.) But, it is still to his advantage — to be able to understand Michel like this, he thinks. He hopes.
Either way, Michel does thankfully allow himself to feel, even if it's something painful, and those tears that overflow aren't small. His sorrow is like a howling wind on a cold, misbegotten night. A dark river that overflows into a bottomless ocean, and with his small arms, Ganymede tries to receive, to catch it all, holding him tighter with both now that his other is free. He plants a kiss atop his head, gently rubs a hand continuously against his back. ]
Your feelings are more than code. You're more than that too. It's okay, to feel these things. To get angry when you're hurt, to cry when you're sad, and to laugh when you're happy.
...Even if that's hard to believe right now, more than ever.
[ His words sound like hollow assurances, when he has nothing to back them up. But he is already searching still for those answers, more concrete than suppositions, because Ganymede is stubborn — determined to the last. He won't shy away from comfort, but neither will he from trying to offer more than that. He pauses still, to allow for more space of those cries, allowing more silence. Ganymede's hand gentle against his back, but a constant presence, alongside his other, which cards softly through that hair. Then, he decides to continue speaking, voice gentle. ]
...Still, someone forcing us to do something against our will doesn't lower our worth, or who we are as people. It doesn't mean that we're reduced to just 'code'. It's an unforgiveable act, that exists in this world, and the one beyond. Even if the means here are different.
Whether it's words that make us feel bound, without any other option before us, directionless, without a mind of our own...
[ Ganymede remembers distinctly, in that room, when Apollo had him at such a diminished capacity he could only listen to him. Believe every word that comes out of his mouth, sympathize with him, until he was uncertain where Apollo began and he ended. ]
...or someone casting a spell on us to control or make us lose it. I can't promise someone won't try it against you or anyone else. But, we can fight against it. Let's come up with ways so that it doesn't happen again, because remember — when I said, when you feel like you're about to stumble, I'd be here for you?
This is exactly that. It'll be okay. I'm here — and we'll figure it out.
[ Another kiss against the top of his head. ]
drowning imagery, more dissociation, sads
His sobs trail off gradually, the steadying pressure of Ganymede's palm against his back settling him despite himself. Those gentle kisses. He'd been soothed rather like that when he was actually a child... Apparently, his body remembers it still. His voice is a little raw when he speaks, but despite everything, almost steady again. ]
I... tried, Ganymede. Nothing is enough. If I find a means of blocking Rage, it will be Charm. If I block Charm, Hysteria. I can't... cover all the possibilities. And whichever one I miss will be what finds me.
[ And not even at his own cost. Never that. In so many ways, he's glad for his burns, for the new damage to the arm Skeith had already wrecked. At least it was a tiny token in return for whatever he'd done. He lets out a shaky sigh, unsteady with the promise of unshed tears. But he doesn't feel like crying anymore, and forcing it could only feel worse. ]
Whatever I am outside this place... here, we're only code. What I'm feeling right now could be just as easily triggered with a command. I could wake up and find that I'm in love with someone I've never spoken to. I could wake up as that painting, a beautiful and demure young woman, and believe that's who I am and have always been.
[ He's aware... to someone without the full memories of both worlds, he must sound as though he's raving. The status effects, the mirrors and the dungeons, those things only give so much of a glimpse into what he's trying to describe. Right now... thinking that somewhere out in the "real" world is a human version of himself feels like holding onto the knowledge that dry land exists somewhere in the world as he sinks beneath the waves. He rubs his cheek against Ganymede's shoulder again and closes his eyes. ]
Someone gave me a confession, before. [ As Gorre. Michel's "I" is still precarious now, fluid in a way it seldom is. ] They said... that they envied what had happened to me. The pieces of my mind peeled away. Reshaped into a sickening monster, but with purpose. I... at the time, I only thought it was cruel. But now I can understand.
no subject
They are so close. They're so close to the end. To being there, back home (he doesn't care how wrong it might feel thinking that now, with Fragment in his head), and then getting married. To escaping. To destroying that...thing.
He tried so hard to get him back.
He refuses to lose him. He ignores the thoughts about his uselessness, his weakness, the returning pounding in his head. No, he's NOT losing Michel. He's lost his brother, Uta, his memories, even Kara, who he wasn't so close to, but it is still a loss he feels. Her kindness irrevocably imprinted in his mind, her actions...
As those sobs die down, he can only think that he is not losing Michel, and nuzzles his head against his hair. He doesn't care if his robes will be soaked with tears. ]
...Have you even tried to make a deluxe set? There might be something there, even still...
Also, I told you to rely on me. So, do it, rely on me. You promised. I have skills too, don't I? I could...put you to sleep too, if you're controlled.
[ Ganymede doesn't care if it sounds like Michel is raving. In all honesty, it doesn't. Even without his full memories, he knows enough, that he can't accept this place as his home, even if his mind believes it. Not like he hasn't been acting like that either; the thoughts in his head processed at a steady clip, his actions are a drive that had been intuitive, and the evidence all over the network, the forums with strange words that served as proof. But Ganymede never ignored them.
Despite this, despite his own energy, his resolve, though even as Ganymede speaks, his voice begins to crack. Still, his hands are steady, another soft kiss planted against the top of his head. ]
Not 'it could be' but 'it could have been'. The fact of the matter, it isn't. We met on the other side, which is proof that it isn't. And I wouldn't let you live a life like that. I'd come, pull you out, do whatever it takes to make you remember.
...We're so close, Michel. All of the things that have happened to us were so cruel, so awful. Even if I say these things, I know that I can't convince you otherwise. We can only keep continue pushing forward.
But, we have to. If we stop giving up, start believing that we're nothing, less than nothing, and have no purpose. Then, that's the end. Whatever you were made to be reshaped into, that wasn't anyone with a real 'purpose'. The 'one you were at that time' is nothing compared to the Michel Bollinger in front of me. The one who still has a purpose.
You're a gloomy man, one who hates crowds, a difficult man, who appears to be so cold, but is filled with a heart so gentle that it breaks every time you have to hurt someone who is undeserving of it. You're an 'engineer', you can be competitive and hate to lose, you're a person who tries to see the larger picture with the smaller pieces that make it up, you have a deep sadness within yourself, and struggle for so long. You experienced so much pain, but you're more than that. You can laugh, you can cry, you can care for others, unlike those programs, and let it linger beyond an 'effect' or 'set amount of time'. You know the difference between right or wrong, you're considerate, and your love is unconditional.
You're...so many things. What happened or has happened hasn't taken that away. Please, believe me in that.
[ Ganymede can say all these things. All he can give is himself, and pray that is enough. And he does pray, to all the Gods, to all the Goddesses above, that it is.
(As if that is enough. No god or goddess can hear him here.) ]
no subject
[ Of course he tried. He closes his eyes slowly and breathes in deeply, releases it in a slow sigh.
He's speaking to the simple facts of the situation. If something overwrites them, changes their memories or their emotions, dictates their actions... there isn’t a single thing they can do about it. Willpower, desires, self, none of those is enough. They can't willpower through the inevitable consequences of being no more than puppets. And Ganymede is speaking to the heart, the way he always does. That those feelings matter, even if they're powerless. Even if they can be overridden as simply as toggling a setting. Which of them is right?
He has no desire to win this argument. He doesn't want Ganymede to feel helpless in the way he does now. Very slowly, he stirs a little more, running his palm over Ganymede's hair when Ganymede's voice cracks. ]
...I know. I do still have a purpose. If... if I'm not certain of a single thing anymore, if every core principle of who I am has been shattered, if all I have left is... whatever fragments of the beliefs I tried to hold onto that remain caught beneath my nails, even so. I promised you I would stay with you. That we would keep moving forward.
[ He's promised each of them, and those promises hold him now. Even if by strict numbers it's the wrong decision. As a blade brandier, he can't do anything but hurt. He's dealt more hurt to the others here than he ever had to the Phases. And he can't do anything to stop it from happening again. If he can't stop himself from being wielded like a blade, the only option left is to break the blade himself...
But as long as these people hold him here, he still can't. He tries to find the words for it. "Your feelings reached me, even though they don't change our reality." He tries to shift enough to reach for Ganymede's right hand with his uninjured left, so he can lift it for a light kiss. ]
You're... so stubborn, Ganymede. Maybe you really can change reality with your willpower alone. [ But even Ganymede must be tired. All of them are. Fighting for so long, dragging Michel's weight with them... He leans into him a little more, heavy and tired, but trying to press whatever warmth he has against Ganymede. ] ...My mistake may have been trying to find a way to fight at all. I'm not really that sort of person, am I? Maybe... what I should have been doing all along is thinking how I could keep pulling you forward as well.
[ He can't count on even that, of course. If the next day Lily overwrites that intention then it's simply gone. But they're not speaking to logic or reality. He can do that, he thinks. Try, just a little, to reach back towards Ganymede's heart. ]
no subject
[ His voice is a little small here. He has been panicking, maybe, all along. He just really can't afford to lose anyone else he cares about. Ganymede knows he's so headstrong, though maybe that's what helps keeping him going. He should know better too, having been at that exact point Michel was at, when nothing ... he grasps a hold of the memory that might give him further context, but that too is far away from the memory of his four years of captivity that has been restored.
Like reaching for a dove's feather beyond his grasp. But, maybe that is just it.
...The difference is...he doesn't know. Maybe there is something different, but he can't grasp it either.
But, he's stubborn because he's not a hopeful person. He thinks...but even reaching for those forgotten memories compound upon the pain. Maybe he's really afraid. He doesn't know if they can escape here, not really. Still he wants badly that future he and Michel spoke of, together. Justy as his cousin in law, and Michel as Hani's. He wants it all and that wins out against any cynicism any day, and invites his desperate stubbornness tenfold, even when he feels the gentle palm over his hair. It feels like his aquamarine eyes are going to sting with tears (or they already are.)
So he's quiet for a moment when Michel reaffirms the promises too. Which is...it's something. Even in the solemn environment, when he kisses his right hand, maybe Michel can't see it like this, but Ganymede's cheeks burn, just a little. There is a reason why he asked him to kiss his hand before, besides an indication of apology, though, well. Time and place.
(It's a silly reason, that's why.) ]
Change reality with my willpower? ...I think that's the first time someone's said that to me.
[ No, wait...someone else said that he was strong too, though not to that extent. But he thinks he never liked that 'person' when he said it, that's why he never believed it. Not until the people he loved started saying it, which is why he likes hearing it now. Because they believe it, they're not mocking him.
And he can trust Michel to say it so earnestly. And if he's saying that now...surely it means something good to him too. Ganymede, for his own part doesn't feel tired; he had rested (inadvertently, due to pushing himself so hard), though he doesn't grasp he's mentally fatigued like everyone else. He holds Michel closer to him still, welcoming that warmth, his weight.
The power to change reality with his willpower also sounds really nice. He still likes that. ]
I think you fight in your own way. Not to do it maliciously, but to protect. There's...something to that too. Even with everything that's happened, that's part of why you wanted to wield a blade, right? In some way. I don't know.
Still, even if we're overwhelmed, we can keep pushing. I want to keep doing that. So, if you do that with me, we can both be pulled forward.
[ He lightly presses a kiss, again, against the other's head. ]
no subject
...Oh. It hurts again. Things... are coming back, bit by bit. ]
W-what do you have to be sorry for?
[ No, it's the opposite. The things Ganymede has just said are still sinking into his consciousness, slow and steady. He shakes his head, running his fingertips slowly over the back of Ganymede's hand and brushing the ring. ]
No, that's... You have the right to be angry at me. I-I'm... sorry. I am relying on you. [ So much. Ganymede's slender shoulders are more sturdy than they appear. ] But it... wasn't my intention to hurry off without you this time. I didn't think of your sleep spell, either...
[ It's embarrassing that it didn't occur to him to ask sooner. He's being more honest with his feelings, where he can. But he knows Ganymede isn't an expert in games... so he overlooked that instead. He gives Ganymede's hand a light squeeze, awkward, uncertain.
It doesn't change the fundamental truth of the instability that's eating him alive. Nothing will change that, as long as they're trapped here. But if he can't know anything with certainty, can he... try a little harder to accept the reality as it is? No, everything inside him recoils at that idea.
But — it is reacting again. That's... not nothing. He closes his eyes as he leans into Ganymede's kiss. ]
...I chose a sword because I expected to play alone. I wanted to meet others. But at the same time... I couldn't imagine it being possible. I picked what would allow me to not need anyone else. And then, when things turned out differently, I hoped... that I could be strong enough to fight for those who couldn't.
[ Nothing quite worked out as planned. Much of it not for the best. But... not all of it was terrible. ]
no subject
But, I didn't want to make it seem like I didn't understand that you were trying, either.
[ Ganymede says, straight to the point, unafraid to answer like always. Just because he has said so doesn't mean he isn't angry, though at the same time, it isn't like it's a heavy feeling. It isn't like he doesn't understand why Michel is acting the way that he is. But he does want to be honest with him; is he mad that he left without telling him? He actually hadn't thought of that either, dealing with the other aspects. So many other things, that maybe he hasn't gotten a chance to know how he feels about that part just yet.
Still...he hears him say that he is relying on him, feels the way the other male's touch is felt over his hand, the light squeeze to it as well. ]
...If you say you are, I believe you. But, I want us to be together in where we go, like we said that we would. Relying on me doesn't just mean talking in the aftermath, and holding you, though it's a large part of it. [ He almost smiles. ] In the end, I can't be angry at you for you feeling uncertain about things.
Though, I don't want you to be consumed by it either. I refuse to allow that. You know that. Since you promised.
[ Michel is his. He won't allow him to slip through his fingers. He already resolved that no matter what, he will be returning with him. Home.
That said, there is another pause, after he feels him lean into the kiss, and for a moment, his hands shift slightly, to slip up from where they had rested against his back, raising to cup his cheeks, fingers lightly threading through the hair at the movement too. ]
It hasn't worked out the way you might have hoped, but ... it doesn't mean you still can't fight, right?
I already told you that you're my everything. My love, my one and only.
You resolved to live up to your promises, even now. That means you've resolved to keep going forward, ahead with me.
You know that you're not alone. Won't you continue to be my sword too? When we face down our enemy, I'll need your protection to the end.
[ If he is truly relying on him, then Michel should trust he should be there to help him too. If he ever needs to be stopped. And maybe, they can still find another way, without him having to use the sleep spell.
Michel just needs to trust in him, to rely on him to help him. They can do this, together. ]
no subject
[ Isn't there? He's been turning to Ganymede for so much. But he doesn't want to rest the weight of his worries only on Ganymede. If he did, then how could Ganymede ever turn to him with things, too?
He can't talk about everything on his mind with each person he cares for. Some things have no outlet. Really... considering that only a few months ago he had only one person in the world to speak to at all, it's all a little disorienting still. The constant sharing of emotions is a bit exhausting — though not strictly in unpleasant ways. He blinks over at Ganymede as Ganymede cups his face, studying the warmth in those blue eyes. ]
...I love you. Now, and always. For the strength of your heart and your honesty and stubbornness, and the way you can still find joy in the darkest moments.
[ For the unflinching way Ganymede believes in him, to ask for his protection even now. Michel pauses, tactfully omitting the "but" from the continuation of this thought. ]
Has it... ever crossed your mind that I'm simply not a very good swordsman?
[ Very gently. Even if, yes, the little part of his heart that remembers devouring those stories of knights and heroes as a childhood resonates with every word Ganymede is saying. He wants to be that for Ganymede. He wishes that were him.
But if it isn't... he'll find his own way to keep protecting him, nonetheless. ]
no subject
We've shared a lot of our burdens with each other. But...
[ Not all of them, is what he means. He doesn't expect Michel to share every single little thing that's troubling him at all times, even if he wants him too. How is it possible? Yet all the same, it's not all in just words. Actions too.
It's hard, sometimes, to strike the balance, and knowing when to do exactly that, in their situation. At the same time, Ganymede wants to try to reach for that, to do what he can. Before all of this, he certainly never relied on anyone for anything...or at least, that's the feeling he gets, thinking back to his conversations with Hani.
Maybe in this, they're both still learning. They can find a way to do that too. Still, when Michel says those gentle affectionate words of love, they warm his heart, that still tingles with remaining anxiousness and fear. But, he can forget about that too, almost. Looking right back at those red eyes, he can only lean forward, press his lips against Michel's forehead, still covered by bangs, softly. ]
And I love you so much, Michel. I wouldn't know where to start, but all those things I said about you before, that make you up — you know I mean it.
[ At the question, he doesn't quite understand that, at all. ]
What do you mean? ...I've teamed up with you before. I've seen you swing your sword before, and when we danced, I liked that. We've...
[ Ganymede's words start to come out a little clumsy, somewhere between flustered, and there's something else, that he can't possibly convey. Maybe he's just emotionally overwhelmed, that's probably it. But, he gets a hold of himself, because as always, like Michel knows, Ganymede believes in him, even if his face is glowing a little. ]
Of course it's never crossed my mind! Besides, I don't care about any other swordsman. You're the best one to me. No one else can compare!
[ If, for some reason, something...or some other tried to take him away, and needed to be struck down, he knows that he could always count on Michel to put his all into striking whatever it is down if he was around.
Not that he's some kind of damsel or anything like that! It's just, something he thinks about sometimes, is all. Maybe...he is just being foolish, though. ]
no subject
That's exactly what I mean, about reality and your willpower...
[ Perhaps Ganymede should look into this second Blade Brandier, Albedo? A man who can actually roll 20s? Such a pity they probably haven't talked.
But Michel lets out a quiet sigh, more contentment this time than anything. It's foolish, absolutely. It has no connection to the reality that he's observed, empirically, in the last three battles for himself.
Which path would be worse for him? If he takes up a sword and wounds an innocent person yet again? If he refuses to carry one, and finds himself powerless to help the people right in front of him? He might be powerless even with one. He doesn't know. ]
...If I can find a way to safely carry a weapon again, then I will. I'm not undermining the suggestions you've made. I just... can't risk another failure. If you're stunned and can't use your dance, for instance. I'll give the armor another try and see what I can come up with.
no subject
He blinks a bit at the comment about his willpower. He feels like he missed something, but that's fine, he still likes the compliment. ]
...I do have a real strong willpower, so it is really sweet you said that.
[ Ganymede doesn't give a rat's ass about Albedo! He's just some stupid manlet. He only needs one Blade Brandier and that's Michel, thanks. Maybe Michel will somehow get blessed by God and suddenly be rolling 20s himself or magically hit all the things.
Or at least more...whatever the case, Ganymede has an incredible amount of unwavering faith in Michel's abilities. He will literally kick a person in the dick, mouth, or wherever else that is very painful if they shit all over Michel within earshot. Consider it the ultimate act of pacifism. ]
Stunned? ...Alright. I believe in whatever you'd be able to come up with too. You should be able to find your own solutions to this problem as well, because...it should just be like that, that's all. [ crying ] When you're done with the armor, though, you should show off to me first.
[ So he can stare and start walking into walls in their McMansion every day since that. ]
no subject
No. He has plenty of time to brood on this later. For now... focus. ]
R-right. It should be like that.
[ Or, maybe the problem is that he's too aware of reality...? But he blinks at Ganymede and tilts his head in curiosity. ]
...I will, then. I didn't know you were so interested... I suppose swords are more your domain than mine.
[ Ah, except Ganymede doesn't remember. But Michel will still show him his video game background coming through in his armor design. This time, he's determined!
And his determination will be doubled when he sees Ganymede's thirst, thanks.]no subject
The other should recognize that he's bringing out tea. ]
Here, another healing item for the wounds you've sustained.
[ Ganymede blinks when he tells him 'swords are more than your domain than mine'. Unfortunately even if Ganymede spoke about sword dancing it was far and few in between; he has enough information and context for himself being a dancer to know this. His memory of 'four years of captivity' that returned do not involve his thoughts about sword dancing either, so nope. He does not recall. ]
What do you mean? How is it more mine than yours?
no subject
[ Well, the tea is more palatable, at least. And Michel is no longer unresponsive. He reaches over to accept it with his good hand, the warmth of Ganymede's kiss still lingering on his lips.
Everything still hurts. But he knows from old habit that the hurt is preferable to the numbness. He can endure this, like he has before. ]
Ah... Your traditional dances include sword dancing. I think those were your family's specialty. I... did see you perform some, once.
[ It still feels strange to talk about these memories that only he holds now. But if nothing else, Ganymede trusts him so deeply that he never seems inclined to doubt Michel's words. A slightly harrowing possibility when Michel no longer trusts his own mind — but also deeply touching. ]
no subject
He's glad he is at least able to accept this much, even in the wake of everything. ]
...Really?
[ But no, he has a spell when wielding a sword feels familiar. Where sometimes he's danced in the kitchen in their McMansion, holding a knife for some inane reason. ]
You saw me perform? What did you think, when you saw the performance?
[ Ganymede asks, tilting his head. He wonders what he looked like then. There is even an ache in his heart, to still return to that. He thinks maybe, a part of him misses that. The declaration he made when he lost his memories still sitting deep inside of him and not forgotten even when he forgot all else. But still made such a certain comment nonetheless. ]
no subject
He's so grateful to have those memories back. At least he can do this, now. ]
I... don't like being in crowded places. But while you were dancing, I didn't see a single other person in that crowd. I remember hearing the applause afterwards. I think I even remember being jostled. But when you dance, you outshine the sun. ...You were incredible.
[ And it suited Ganymede. He always looks so vibrant, so at ease in his own body wherever he is. But never moreso than that moment. ]
no subject
That isn't exactly wrong either (he has no idea that Michel is thinking of silly knife-dancing escapades in the kitchen. He'd be kind of embarrassed if he knew.)
Though, the comment brings something like warmth to Ganymede's cheeks all the same. ]
...I wish I could remember it. But, hearing you say that, I can believe it. Maybe even imagine just a little.
I don't have any memories of my performances anymore. I hope I can recall them someday. Until now, one of the most treasured ones will have to rest with you. I can't complain, knowing how you still can recall it fondly at all. And because it's you.
[ There's another person out there who has the memory of a performance, from an earlier time, though that individual isn't Michel, so. ]
If I could have made it so enjoyable for you, it made it worth it. Even if you were out with so many people. I can't wait...to show you more of my performances too, in the future.
no subject
[ A precious memory, for both of them. And one more promise to chain Michel here. He feels the weight of each of them; if he ever allows himself to lie down to rest, he knows it would be beyond his strength to rise again. But he needs them, too. Just a little further. ]
I'm... looking forward to it. Even if it's at another crowded festival. And even if I get sunburned again.
[ Even if everything goes perfectly, he wonders how soon that would be. How long will it take all of them to be in the physical condition to walk again? Let alone dance? What if Ganymede has lingering effects from his injuries?
He has to let his dreams and his desires override his doubts. At least for now. At least enough to carry him the rest of the distance. If he breaks when he runs up against the cold wall of reality, so be it. At least he will have made it that far. ]
no subject
Whether it's from stubbornness, desperation, or something else. He moves one of his hands to bring it over one of Michel's, the one he isn't using to holding the tea with, and cover it with his. ]
...If you get sunburned again, I'll just kiss them away. You said that I'd done that before, right?
[ Either way, Ganymede has never had any doubts that Michel wouldn't hold such a memory so dear. He's clumsy at some things, but when it comes to things like this, and being considerate, he considers Michel's thoughtfulness an incredible asset. Ganymede could probably learn from that, and speaking of his injury, he'll definitely have to ask for more painkillers when the nurse comes around. ]
Though, I don't think I was—am—a fan of crowds much either.
no subject
He can't move that shoulder yet; but there's nothing wrong with his fingers, and he's able to give a tiny squeeze to Ganymede's hand in return. ]
You did. You... never seemed to get tired of touching me...
[ He remembers the way Ganymede had flitted around his kitchen, a ball of restless energy. How he'd turned towards each tiny brush of contact like a flower growing towards the sunlight, unabashed in his enthusiasm. The thought makes him squeeze Ganymede's hand gently again. ]
...I never noticed, because you were were so intent when you danced. You never thought twice about the audience, that I saw.
[ But that's not what Ganymede means, he thinks. The lingering fear from memories he doesn't have now... he rubs his thumb distractedly over the back of Ganymede's palm. ]
no subject
That's right, I don't. I never will.
[ Ganymede can only imagine how many instances he might have taken to touching Michel whenever he can just because he can. The shift in their fingers' position doesn't prevent the second squeeze, though it means it conjures a gentle smile on Ganymede's face. If Michel's shoulder wasn't so injured, he'd lean against him, but alas. ]
No, somehow I feel that putting on a show for an 'audience' is different. After all, it's so much easier when you're in the middle of an 'act', even with so many eyes watching. The hardest part might be when you're expected to talk to the crowds after the performance...I have a feeling I wouldn't—I don't—like the idea much.
[ Which pretty much probably confirms Michel's suspicions that even without memory he isn't necessarily bothered by crowds. He can picture it easily in his head without having memory as to why—but he can also draw on his previous interactions in Fragment too, when he went to a couple of events with so many people hanging around like some parties or even in the very beginning. He hasn't forgotten the uncharitable feelings lingering then, though he doesn't regret some of those meetings—Michel's included, of course. ]
no subject
[ But, can he tell Ganymede that's unreasonable? He can't imagine a time where he wouldn't want to touch him. Even now, when it feels tempting still to retreat back into that void where nothing can touch him again... Ganymede's warm hand against his is an anchor that isn't painful. ]
I would be terrible at any of it. But... I can imagine how the performance would feel different. You know every step. In a way, those people don't matter at all. You could dance the steps without them altogether.
[ At least... that's how Michel would see it. Does Ganymede's love of dance make that more true, or less? Does he love it because he can share it with others? He knows Ganymede always loves him watching. But maybe there's a little quiet hubris rekindled in his tired soul, too: he doesn't doubt that he's special to Ganymede, even if he doesn't understand it, or grasp what that means. ]
You were hanging back at the party as well. The day we met.
no subject
He is clearly intent on proving his point. ]
That's right...I think. That's probably why it feels different.
I would never make you dance in front of a crowd, unless, well...
[ In the middle of his marriage ceremony; there is probably going to be a little crowd, he thinks. He's already fantasizing again. Ah, it's wonderful to be able to think of this all over once more, even without explicit details in his memories to guide him. ]
...I remember that. I went on over to you, and you asked, 'Is this wall, perhaps, too crowded for another person?' After I had rudely asked if I could help you. At that time, I think I was practically a different person than I am now. Maybe.
I had a special nickname for you in my head at the time, that I didn't say.
no subject
[ Ganymede? That's a very alarming thing to say? Michel pales a little further, not making the mental leap just yet. All he's seeing in his future is paralyzing awkwardness and humiliation.
Would he do it for Ganymede? Very likely. But he's still holding his hand a little tighter in terror at the thought. Good time to distract him with nostalgia. ]
I-I can't believe you remember that... What nickname?
[ Thinking back... Michel was a very different person then, too. The man he is now would never have approached Ganymede. Or Sinclair, or Oriade. He would have walked away in annoyance when Fai played his prank, rather than retaliating. He likely wouldn't have stayed at the party at all beyond picking up his equipment. Has he gone backwards? Or is it, at least a little, that now that he's no longer alone he simply lacks the aching need to reach out to others? Perhaps both. ]
no subject
Oh...you know, when we get married. It'd be kind of like, romantic, you know? Maybe.
[ He tacks on a maybe because he does have eyes and might have noticed Michel growing pale and his tighter grip on his hand, to which he grants a gentle squeeze. Ganymede thinks he should have clarified a bit sooner too.
As for the nickname
thank god I found it, he has to go into his Greek mind palace to search for it. Once he comes out, though... ]I remember a lot more things if it's just about you! Anyway, the nickname was Sir Winter Frost Bat Knight III. I was thinking of using it at one point, but it slipped my mind, and I kept getting distracted.
[ But now Michel knows! Those times sure were different. Even Fragment can't take away the earlier days of Ganymede recalling how irritable he was at the thought of people socializing with him. He even kind of was pretty rude at people for awhile and chased off this girl too, with his terrible attitude. He planned to do that with everyone else too, now that he thinks about it. But...
...Well. He didn't. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)