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-yeah. That's fine.

[he shrugs out of his jacket, and-- well.

they've shared an apartment and a bed, known each other for years. there's nothing weird about unbuttoning his shirt too to let yesod make sure he looks fine, right? right.]

[ The task at hand necessitates concentrating on Netzach's body, nothing impermissible behind the contact to come. Yesod has no medical expertise to guide him, but he intends to be thorough in his examination, focused solely on finding torn sections of Netzach's shirt or welts and scrapes on his bare skin.

For the moment, he thinks of that and nothing else. Expressionless — so he hopes, given what was brought to his attention — he pushes Netzach's shirt collar out of the way a little more after a second's hesitation, exposing his neck and both shoulders. From there, his hands move lower, along the shirt's front panels to reveal Netzach's arms and the rest of his torso.

Yesod's gaze follows the same path, seeking broken skin or the discoloration of bruises beneath it. His fingers crease the fabric caught between them. ]

[just checking him over, and nothing else. it's normal. it's fine.

he holds still while yesod examines him; there's a nasty-looking bruise on his shoulder, probably, and another on his arm, but no real breaks in the skin, luckily enough.]

[ Yesod's attention lingers on each bruised patch of skin, admittedly longer than any explanation can justify. Netzach's shoulder, Netzach's arm. A total of two bruises. The force of the impact must have led to some residual pain, and it may be too soon to claim that it will pass quickly, though he wants to believe that these are mild contusions in relatively harmless places, that it's a relief to find none where internal bleeding or undetected fractures could cause complications. That it's a good sign that there isn't a single open wound.

Finally, letting go of an audible breath, Yesod draws back slightly. His hands remain where they are, however, Netzach's shirt trapped in their hold. The garment, pulled all the way downward, now sits crumpled around Netzach's hips.

Presumably Netzach would like to button it closed without assistance, rather than staying trapped where he is himself, partially undressed on the bed. No doubt the entire scene is somewhat strange and excessive, in hindsight.

Yesod's thoughts wander back to the flowers and their whispers today. ]

...Applying some ice could help while you monitor these, regardless of where you choose to stay.

[he lets the shirt slip from his shoulders, while yesod looks him over-- not that there's much else to look at besides the few places he's been bruised. little besides the slightly angular planes of his body, still a bit too thin, but not so much as he once might have been.

maybe it would be a little strange, usually, but netzach isn't someone who puts much thought into these things... it just made sense to remove the shirt in the first place, and he's lazy on his best days. as long as he's not cold, he doesn't think he needs to bother to put it back on in a hurry.]

Regardless of where...? Did you want me to go somewhere else?

[ There are no more excuses left. Nothing justifies drawing this out. This time, too, Netzach acquiesced to measures that were ultimately unnecessary, at Yesod's insistence, and the correct course of action would be to release him, now and altogether, but Yesod can't bring himself to lie. Though unharmed himself, he feels as though something fractured within him all this time refuses to heal. The cracks grew deeper today.

Still, the flowers, perhaps preoccupied with Roland's secrets, didn't force his heart out into the open in its entirety — every inexcusable thing that has sprouted there hasn't come to light yet. Naturally, Netzach has nothing to fear from him, least of all a betrayal of the trust given to him, no matter what thoughts may have crossed his mind from time to time.

It would be easier nonetheless, if Netzach were less accommodating right now. If there were nothing to remember, nothing forming a collection of memorable moments. ]

That isn't the case. But what I want is irrelevant, Netzach.

[ In that regard, the flowers' reminders were right. Yesod's fingers shift against the fabric under them, restlessly, as if that would rid them of whatever some part of him might want just then. Don Quixote spoke of something similar, a stubborn restlessness that nothing quells.

Which decision would end in regret? ]

...Truthfully, I should have confronted it much sooner.

Confronted what, Yesod?

[what he wants isn't irrelevant. both of their wants matter to netzach-- he doesn't want him to have to stifle himself in the same way he used to cover his skin.

and there is something there, he can tell: it's in the restless way he fidgets with the fabric in his hands, in the way he speaks of confrontation without actually confronting anything at all. in the look on his face, despite how he's doubtless trying to keep it as neutral and rational as he can.]

You mean confronting that you think what you want doesn't matter, or something else?

[it's purposeful phrasing. you think, he has to add, to make it clear he doesn't agree.]

[ Even this much, not enough to explain his behavior at all, makes Yesod feel strangely exposed, the truth on display, a specimen on a microscope slide. Gebura saw it. How is it possible that Netzach hasn't pulled away? For all his efforts, that despicable truth has seeped into these moments, as it did too many times before.

Even now, it affects his judgement and his composure. Everything that needs to be said has yet to make it past his throat. He should break all contact entirely, avert his eyes. Maybe he should leave the room. ]

...Let me tend to these bruises first.

[ It emerges as more of a plea, faintly, than a command. There is no risk that he would cross an unspoken line, and Netzach shouldn't be cornered into anything else, but he would prefer to keep his hands busy with another practical task, instead of allowing them to continue their uneasy movements as though they don't belong to him. ]

Unless it's more of the same... From the beginning, I repeatedly ignored that fact. Of course you were never alone simply because Roland wasn't there.

[ Don Quixote, Kaveh, Midnight... The way they speak of Netzach reflects Netzach's own light.

Whether it was willful blindness or wishful thinking to conclude that this apartment was the best option to suggest to him, its restored solitude will be lonelier for every mistake soon. ]

[he recognizes the plea for what it is, but with the rest of yesod's words...

-no, this feels like something he shouldn't just ignore, and while he doesn't directly answer that part, the hand he sets on yesod's arm is probably answer enough. silent indication that no, he doesn't want him to just step away and shift focus-- might not let him.]

I wasn't alone, no, but what does that have to do with this? Do you think I'd only be staying here if I didn't have any other options...?

[if that were the case, he could have left entirely. stayed only with midnight and shared another couch or two to avoid imposing on one person too much.]

[ Lowering to land on the back of Netzach's hand, Yesod's gaze pauses there. To his credit, his only outward reaction is to go very still, though the touch sears through his sleeve and his skin and beyond. He stays where he is, at least, as prompted. His request has been denied, and he won't force it upon Netzach. ]

...No, not quite. [ Yesod answers with a shake of his head. ] You've treated me with nothing but kindness, after all. And I wanted to believe that... you enjoyed it as well, in the end.

[ That it was neither a sense of obligation nor some form of pity that influenced Netzach at any point, and that an unnecessary arrangement could continue indefinitely for that reason, contrary to anything implied in today's whispered commentary. Yesod retraces that night after the greenhouse, and Netzach's wishes then. ]

However, I should have asked you what you want, directly, and allowed you to make an informed decision.

What do you mean, wanted to believe? I don't have to do things I don't want anymore.

[here, outside the library-- he can be his own person more freely. it's a little invigorating, at times, to either turn things down or just to think: i really don't have to, without the same pointlessness that there was to his rejection of work in lobotomy corp. there, it was part of the script.

there is no script here.]

Ask me then.

[netzach could tell him. he wants yesod to ask, though, to do this for himself and for his own sake. to put it in whatever words he chooses.]

[ Just like that, Netzach turns every logical conclusion on its head. Yesod could have pointed to this and that to reiterate the points that he has used against himself, but Netzach's assertion is a succinct rebuttal, an unexpectedly simple solution to silence those arguments. Yes, Netzach isn't bound to any unwanted obligation here. He has far greater freedom to make choices of his own, to live as he likes.

People like you should ask for these things directly — perhaps Midnight had a point. What made sense before no longer does.

Yesod lifts his gaze from Netzach's hand, pulling it upward to search his expression. Ask me then offers him a straightforward process, too, the most direct route to take towards understanding. ]

...I will.

[ The answer might have been different, several weeks ago, he supposes. He adjusts his question. ]

What do you want now, Netzach?

I'm staying here because I want to.

[it's as simple as that. because he likes yesod's company, because he wants to be here, because he chose to accept the offer when it was given. the same way he's stayed with midnight because he likes his company, too, fond of them both.

not everything needs to be complicated.]

Do you?

[ And that should be enough — more than enough. There is no reason to examine Netzach's statement further, probing for still more. It's not necessary for Yesod to know precisely why Netzach has decided that staying here is genuinely part of what he wants, for however long, in a place where he can make such decisions. Dividing his time between locations is simply another extension of his freedom, gradually expanding, and some arrangements coincided with others by chance.

It is enough. ]

Then I'm relieved.

[ Granted, neither his own expression nor the tone of his voice convey that relief, restrained by the knowledge that Netzach evidently wasn't aware of anything in order to make an "informed decision" — why else would he assume that he would eventually be told to leave? ]

...I was under the impression that I have made my wants all too clear.

I mean, you never seemed like you wanted me to leave, but- it's still nice to hear.

[it's not letting him dodge answering questions, is what it is, even if netzach is capable of reading between the lines. mostly.

the one thing that he can't read is:]

...I dunno why it's such a big deal for you, though.

[something's up with yesod, when it comes to this sort of topic. in any other situation he'd think--

well. he's been so sure it wouldn't be that.]

[ That proves it — he was mistaken. If Netzach knew the truth in full, he would have his answer. How to explain it now, when it isn't such an obvious thing after all, poses new problems.

Glancing back down at Netzach's hand on his arm, Yesod shakes his head a second time, briefly. ]

I do not want you to leave.

[ It is a relief to allow himself this admission, at least, bolstered by the evidence that Netzach has presented to refute his concerns. They could leave it at that, something untangled at last, to an extent. ]

...You still find it strange, in other words?

It's not so weird to stay here.

[it's more comfortable than he thought it would be. he thinks about waking up on the other side of the bed, on yesod's pillow, the plush creature that had sat between them tucked into his arms-- it wasn't uncomfortable at all. he could do that on more mornings.]

Yesod-

[what else would it be, is the thing-- that's the question now. netzach had assumed it wasn't a possibility, but if he can't think of anything else driving yesod's odd behavior...]

...You don't want me to leave. That's one. What other wants did you think were clear?

[ Yesod finds himself unwilling to draw back further — it would disturb the placement of Netzach's hand. Close behind that thought, yet another to join a contemptible array, displeasure for it follows. Not only would Netzach learn the reason for "such a big deal," if he knew every detail of the truth, but he would uncover things likely to make him reconsider feeling comparatively more at ease here now.

It's difficult to imagine him free of any discomfort then. ]

...If they were anything but clear, I suppose that explains why your behavior hasn't changed.

[ He wishes that his hands weren't empty, but retrieving an ice pack, even only to keep it nearby, necessitates stepping away for some moments. ]

I am not certain that I can summarize them adequately.

C'mon, man, what do you think would make me change like that now...

[this is yesod, who's been with him in the library and l corp both. who knows the things they both have done. they've known the worst of each other, so what else could yesod possibly tell him that would spark that sort of shift?

... maybe he does have to consider it. even if he doesn't know what he has to offer someone like yesod, can't think of why he wouldn't want someone who suits him better--

the same is true of netzach, right? hasn't he found himself with feelings for someone that others probably wouldn't consider his type?]

Are you-- saying you want me to be more than just your roommate?

[ Netzach knows enough, then. He can discern the shadows of what has firmly taken root uninvited.

These questions now pin Yesod in place for an examination conducted in return, peeling aside every layer of his heart, baring all that it contains. Netzach does it gently, if nothing else, despite his discovery. Even so, Yesod's arm tenses beneath Netzach's palm. Yesod doesn't answer immediately, taken aback by his own reaction, braced anew for what he already knows.

It sends his thoughts into a flurry of considerations to constrain his reply.

If that were the most concise yet comprehensive summary to define and articulate the precise shape of everything impossible, he might confirm it in these words. As it is, "more than just your roommate" is still too vague, a nebulous concept without sufficient clarification — besides, he hasn't permitted himself to entertain wanting Netzach to accommodate any of his wants. Nothing justifies that, either. Moreover, it would be callous. There is no point in labeling these notions.

Perhaps it's comparable to a snake atop a sun-soaked rock. Here, they have had the still-novel warmth of new experiences, and Yesod's memories retain the impression left there by Netzach's insight on the other side of the years behind them, and the quiet comfort found in his company, and the foreign accomplishment felt upon witnessing a moment of unexpected joy. Less innocuous are remembered sensations, some connected persisting interest in more of the same.

Yesod's free hand comes up, unconsciously, forearm across his chest like a shield as his fingers dig into his shoulder. ]

...I have no intention of asking you to do anything else that you don't want to do, Netzach.

[ The most concise yet comprehensive way to summarize all of it might be simple, if it were an option, but I want you and everything that it encompasses would be absurd to voice, out of the question. Instead, here is an assurance that no matter what the outcome of this conversation may be, no part of it will encroach upon Netzach's freedom. ]

[the way his arm tenses gives him a little pause. wondering if that was too far to push, if it's too strange a thought for yesod to consider.

he waits, regardless, quiet in the silence that follows, and just-- exhales a soft sigh once yesod answers.]

I know you don't, but you can at least ask me things, you know? How do you know whether I want to do something or not? I keep saying I can just say no if that's the case...

[he has the agency for that, now. there's no need to avoid simply asking, and it's a direct enough question, so-- what, is he just covering for the fact that the answer is no?

after a moment:]

So can you. If you need to.

[he won't be offended by it, if so.]

[ In what world would Netzach be receptive to any of those other wants? He might not find them repulsive, but nothing indicates that confirming the conclusions he has drawn at length and in depth would meet with anything aside from puzzlement, and it's somehow easier said than done to accept the finality of this reality expressed aloud.

But Netzach's retort strikes Yesod as odd, too. It lacks relief, and no relief can be derived from it. Asking for impossible things would be pointless — if Netzach hasn't changed his mind about wanting to stay, that is enough. ]

What should I refuse? You haven't made any requests.

[ None, with the exception of that one night. Yesod wonders how much of it Netzach recalls. ]

I know. I'm just saying.

[just making it clear, in case.]

...that wasn't really an answer, man.

[which is the heart of the problem, currently: that whatever the answer is, yesod is dancing around it, for one reason or another.]

[ Don Quixote petting La Víbria de Tierra Temblorosa might have set an example to follow — then again, that isn't an option for Yesod. Nor will Netzach's shirt be subjected to this unrelenting tension anymore, since Yesod's own will bear the brunt of it while his fingers curl tighter into the fabric over his shoulder, as if he means to reach past it, and inside himself from there to tear out the source of his inexplicable, ridiculous trepidation.

Didn't Netzach himself deduce the answer? Making it clear that nothing would change to impose expectations on him became all the more important then. In it, there was an implicit confirmation.

It was unsatisfactory, Yesod admits, and so he contemplates a different approach, Netzach's wants in Netzach's own words placed in the foreground, not obfuscated by assumptions. ]

...What would your own answer be, in response to that type of request?

[-well.

if yesod won't be forthcoming with the truth, whatever it might be... then he will be. it's not like he'd be opposed to telling him anyway, so if he wants to know...

as yesod's fingers clutch tighter at the fabric of his shirt, netzach rests his hand on top of them.]

I'd say yes.

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