week two | mingle

[showhost]

Welcome to week two, Teens Who Are Definitely Searching for Love!

Hopefully everyone got a lot of rest over the weekend, and are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the upcoming week, because there are a few things of interest this week.

But first, some changes of note in the house!

First: there is a giant rectangular box on the living room table, addressed to Lessing. It is a care package. The only thing in it is his sword.

There is some Bauernbrot bread on the counter. Ask Lessing about that too.

There is now a hot tub near the pool. It’s large enough to seat about six teens comfortably, but you can get more in there if you really try for some reason.

Okay I think that’s everything. Additionally, Tsukasa is here early this week! He’s looking pretty perky, seemingly recovered from the Match Ceremony, and he’s got some interesting info to share with everyone.

Embrace Space | Property Damage, etc | Dates | Mini-Event
Truth Booth Voting | Match Ceremony Submissions

Comments

[titlecard]

[ Mark looks down for a second. I really wish that were true sounds defeated. And he— he doesn't want Josuke to be defeated, doesn't want his friend to be dead, but it just... it sounds...

so familiar.

He looks back up at Josuke, offers a wan smile. They have the same guiding principle, then. They're... really, really alike, actually. It's just it's so... everything is so...

His smile turns a little more real at their hands linked together. ]

The point's good. [ It is; it also just feels so small in comparison. Not just to the additional three points he could be earning, but to this entire conversation. One that he's going to continue, because, ] And you're a really, really good person. But it wouldn't feel right for you to share something like that with me, and for me to not really say anything in return.

[ I've always tried to protect people, and Mark takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes. He's silent for a moment, trying to think about how to word this. There was so much death and destruction in Chicago... around the world... that he can probably get away with not being too cagey. It's— it's not like any camera came in close enough for that moment, the one that's on his mind right now. It could have been anywhere. Any time.

He opens his eyes. Stares at his shoes for a moment. Back to Josuke. Does not let go. ]

I was— there was this apartment building that was collapsing. I was there. I ended up in a position where, um... there was a mom and her kid, right? And I was with them, and this whole thing was slanted. I was... able to find a hold, but the mom fell out the window, and I grabbed her. Just in time. But the building was still collapsing, and she's freaked out, and I'm freaked out, and her kid's freaked out... and I'm just trying to reassure them, pull her up, get everyone safe again...

[ He exhales, defeated. ]

And then it collapsed anyway.

[ And Mark shuts his eyes, his voice going flat. ]

When I came to I was still holding her hand. I thought we might be okay, until I saw that I was just holding her arm. It got ripped off from her body. I never saw the rest of her. Or her kid. Her kid was crying for her mom, and I told her not be scared, and then everyone was just... dead. And I feel like— I know I could have done more. And I didn't. And people died because of me.

[ Two people, by his verbal count. Multiply it by a couple of powers of ten and that's closer to what happened in Chicago alone. For a second he forgets where he is — the screams, the groan of a dying building, the dead silence after; the scent of iron permeating the air from all of the blood, the smell of debris; the silence—

He might be gripping Josuke's hand a little too hard now. Not enough to do any damage — he. he never hurt that woman's hand — but. Maybe a little too hard. ]

[haircared]

[ It's horrible.

It's so horrible. Josuke is deeply empathetic on a normal day, but things like this really affect him, and it's visually obvious in the strain in his brow. It's not even like he could've been there to stop the building from collapsing, but Mark's guilt and regret still spill over an on to him, as he imagines in his mind what the scene must have been like. What Mark must have felt like in that moment.

He gets it. On more than one occasion, life has slipped through his fingers while he was trying to help. It's crushing and suffocating...

Josuke puts his other hand around Mark's, his strong grip be damned. ]

Mark... I get it. Hearing "you tried your best" feels like total shit after something like that. It just pisses me off more.

[ It's not going to be what Mark wants to hear. Not "it's not your fault," or "there was nothing you could have done." It's not helpful, and only ever serves to make him more frustrated with himself, whenever others say it to him when he fails. ]

At least for me, I never know whether to feel angry at myself, or upset at the situation. [ He squeezes Mark's hand between his, turning his body on the couch so he's facing him head on — he even brings up one of his knees to ease the turn. ] I'm so sorry. I wish things would've been different.

[ He knows he'd feel sick, holding an innocent person's severed arm. He's seen innocent people blown to smithereens, but Josuke's power has ensured most of the corpses he's held were in pristine condition, all their pain erased. ]

[titlecard]

[ He's lost in his own world until Josuke says his name, and then he looks up sharply, meeting his eyes. Seeing him — really seeing him, he thinks.

And really hearing him, too. Because nobody's ever said anything like that to him, and that's — that's when he knows without a doubt that Shigechi is dead. There is no optimism. There is no holding out hope for the best. Sometimes people die and other people are responsible for it.

Josuke squeezes his hand. Josuke turns to face him head on. And Mark just wants to lean into him, into someone warm and breathing and alive, so he does, bringing his head down to rest on his shoulder.

He brings his other hand atop Josuke's to squeeze back before relaxing his grip. ]

Me too. [ He barely registers that there are cameras here at all anymore. His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. He just... ] I don't know what to feel, sometimes. You come here, try to get away, and wish it gets better. And... I don't know if it ever can.

[ He really, really needs that wish. ]

coming back to this thread truly smoking my duck cigarette

[haircared]

[ Mark leans into him, and he lets him, moving his head a bit to the side so he has more room to rest. His heart skips a beat — this is close, even for him, and his hands are starting to feel so warm, trapped between Mark's. He lets their shared hold linger for a few quiet moments, before slipping one of his hands free so he can give Mark a one-armed hug, his open palm gentle against his back. ]

Yeah, for sure. [ He agrees, fighting back the sting of tears in his eyes he feels. The climax of his own battle is so fresh, so raw, that away from his friends and family who went through it with him, the denseness of the emotion he still has pent up about it catches him off guard. Clearing his throat quietly, he hugs Mark a little tighter. With effort, he manages to make his voice not sound too taut. ] We can't bring people back... but there's always carrying on their legacy.

[ That is how he coped with his grandfather's murder; now, for the rest of his life, he expects to take up his mantle and protect his beloved hometown. Mark may not have known the people who died in that building collapse, but he could vow to honor them for the rest of his life. To Josuke, that's the only actionable thing he could do that made him feel better, during times like the one Mark is going through. ]

And other people who will need you. That's how I keep going...

[ His mom, his friends, his neighbor, the grocer, the other students at his school.. there will always be people who need him. He's always going to feel a void where the people he couldn't save are, but it doesn't obscure his view of the rest. To say it'll get better feels hollow, so he says the closest thing he can think of to the honest truth. ]

It won't always be like this.

RIP in pieces...

[titlecard]

[ Mark sighs as he feels that hug, warm breath puffing out on Josuke's chest. He looks up when he hears him clear his throat, and—

Oh, they're both really fucked up by this, huh. It's awful; it's also better, in a sick way. To not be alone, even in the horrors, the worst that life can offer.

He brings an arm up to wrap around Josuke's neck, returning the hug as best he can despite not really wanting to move all that much. ]

How do you do that? How do you—

[ carry on the legacy of thousands of people, he was going to say, before catching himself. Because here, it isn't thousands. To Josuke, it's two people. Two people Mark failed to save; a horrific tragedy, but something he can still carry. Two lives on his conscience, two people he can carry with him.

Not thousands. Two. ]

— I mean, sometimes I feel like—

[ I'm not good enough, because how can I help other people when thousands died, and he catches himself again.

It was two people.

... He abandons the questions, settling for resting his head on Josuke's shoulder instead, looking up into his eyes. ]

— I hope you're right.

[ At least that sentiment is an honest one. ]