[Only one thing has really been clear to Fugo since the 15th: Basil has gone missing.
Like, entirely. Unless someone caught the fit he was having in his room as he changed into a Shade, it would have seemed like he just disappeared entirely. No word, not indication, nothing. Even his bedroom door is still locked, meaning that if anyone wanted to check on him they'd either have to break the lock or get in through some other means. Locked doors don't mean much to Shades, who can simply phase right through them.
It's been over a week now of time lost, because Basil can't remember any of it. Barring the brief blip of terror he felt as the changes began, as well as the ominous insistence that he go find Katurian (who is also nowhere to be found), there's...nothing. And that honestly scares Basil more than if he could remember. It's only thanks to Crash that he made it back to the Palazzo at all, escorted here by the Minotaur when he didn't have access to his laptop to actually contact anyone.
And now...he's back. And as much as he wants to just run to his room and hide, that actually isn't the first thing he thinks to do. No, the first thing he does is rush to Fugo's room, to knock on the door tentatively...and pray that he's actually home.]
[It doesn't take long for Fugo to discover this. Part of his routine is checking in on Basil in the morning before he leaves for his first shift at Persephone's. Basil is quiet and shy; he doesn't like using the kitchen if someone else is in it without an invitation, so Fugo makes a point of making sure to eat breakfast with him.
But that morning, Basil doesn't answer the knock to his door. He doesn't answer it in the afternoon, or the evening. And when Fugo, guilty to invade his privacy, uses one of the property's master keys to unlock it-- the room is empty, with no sign as to where he might have gone.]
[There is no way to know what might have happened. Was his stay in Ryslig simply brief? Has he slipped into a heavy sleep, the way Giorno once did, while memories he didn't experience play out behind his eyelids? Did he get caught up in the pulses emanating from Bavan? Fugo doesn't know. And although he tries to look for Basil, there are no signs of him anywhere. He's just gone. There is nothing he can do about it.
The worry eats at him. His knuckles are a bit raw from where he's been worrying at them enough that Giorno, during the hour a day Fugo allows him to borrow his body, makes a point to massage moisturizing hand cream into his skin.]
[In the time they have lived together, Basil has likely picked up on that Fugo has a number of peculiar habits. One: unless he is in the middle of a private conversation, he leaves doors standing ajar behind him. Two: when Fugo is in his room, even when he sleeps, there is always a light on.
When Basil reaches Fugo's bedroom, warm light spills out from the gap between the door and the frame. The door pushes open underneath his knuckles and there, sitting at his desk in front of some sort of list, is Fugo. He turns to face the door, ready to call out over his shoulder to whomever has come to visit that they can come on-- only to drop his pen at the sight of Basil, red-eyed and exhausted.]
Basil! [He pushes himself up, absently and exasperatedly tugging one of his hip tentacles free from where it's anchored itself around his chair. His fins ripple reflecting the storm of surprise, worry, and painful gladness that brew all at once in his chest.] You're here!
cw: memory loss, disassociation, panic, omori spoilers OH MY
[Basil's mental timeline of the last week and some change has been hectic and disorienting. The change happened during the middle of the night, and the only real sensation he remembers from it is how scared and upset he felt. It was as if he was experiencing the worst of all of the weight bearing down on him all over again all at once, and just before things went dark, he remembers feeling...
Angry. So very, very angry.
Then, he woke up in the center of Bavan with no recollection of how he even got there, just the insistence burned into his brain that he find somebody that would turn out to be dead. And really, isn't that just what he should expect from his life, at this point? That from now on, things just won't ever be normal again? He's fated to suffer, and go through the same motions of uncertainty and being disillusioned with reality, until he manages to pull himself back together because he has no one to turn to. He's his only friend. He's the only person he can turn to. There is no one else to tell him that things are going to be okay.
But that...hasn't been the case, in Ryslig. People he barely knows, and in a lot of cases has only just met, have been falling all over themselves to help him. Komaeda, taking him in for the evening with not a single question asked, tending to his scrapes and making sure he was fed and looked after. Crash, who made sure he made it back to the Palazzo safely when he didn't know how to get there on his own.
And Fugo, who literally drops what he's doing at the mere sight of him, rushing to his feet with an expression of such genuine relief that it just doesn't seem real. Not even Basil's own parents cared about him as much as this man who has known Basil for barely a short handful of weeks.
Basil had been lingering in the doorway, but when Fugo gets up...he automatically starts forward, managing to stagger a single step before he feels his knees try to give out on him. They sort of lock up, and he's not sure if it's from fear, or apprehension, or something else he can't quite place. Instead of staying put where he is, though, Basil tries to push past that feeeling- like trying to walk through cement- and it results in him stumbling, tripping over the last few paces of steps separating him and Fugo until he ends up practically falling into the Mer's arms in his haste to get into the room.
He ends up half-clutching at the front of Fugo's shirt, and for a brief moment it almost sounds like he's...laughing. His breathing is quick and frantic, escaping him in shallow gasps as he struggles to keep himself mostly upright.
How long until Fugo realizes he doesn't want to deal with this anymore? When is the other shoe going to drop, and Komaeda wakes up to the realization that Basil is a burden, and can't ever be expected to be able to fend for himself here? When is he going to go back home, and likely wake up dead, because he drowned in that lake that Aubrey pushed him into, because she despised him so much?
When, when, when-
[What if I told you that he has been very, very bad? That he's done something reprehensible? Would you feel the same then?]
Basil's grip on Fugo falters, as his panicked attempts to draw in breath finally dissolve into tears, his forehead dropping against his chest so he won't have to see him cry.]
[They meet each other halfway. Basil staggers into the room, each step uncertain and halting. But they take him further regardless, as far as he can possibly make it. In the same moment that Fugo pushes himself up from the desk, he reaches out for Basil-- even though he's clearly still too far away. He makes it, somehow, catching Basil as his knees go out and draws him against his bony chest. They go down together, landing on their knees on the floor.
It will hurt later, but Fugo doesn't feel it in the moment. He's too focused on holding Basil tightly to him, the tentacles at his hip instinctively winding around Basil for a four-limbed embrace. Fugo doesn't hold on as tightly as he can, even though he wants to. He has to be careful. He has to be gentle. He is so much stronger than Basil; if he held on as tightly as he could, it would break his bones.]
I'm here. You're here. It's okay, you're okay, it's going to be okay--
[And then, all of a sudden, Basil is crying. He's laughing, too, in a way that sounds painful; in a way that sounds like he can barely breathe. Fugo feels wildly out of his depth. He isn't good at this. He doesn't know what to do. Basil is in so much pain. He is bleeding out and Fugo has no idea where the wound is, or how it happened. Something happened, when Basil went away-- something happened and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He repeats himself, over and over again, trying desperately to give Basil something to ground himself while he's lost out at sea.]
I'm here. You're here. I'm here. You're here.
[This close, Basil will be able to hear Fugo's frantic and runaway heart: it thuds against his ribs, beating painfully fast. He is so, so glad to see him. He has only known him a few weeks; he knows very little practical facts about Basil.
But there is something so, so painfully familiar about him. Fugo can't stand the idea of Basil facint all of Ryslig alone.]
[Whatever Basil might have been expecting in this moment- good, bad, or otherwise- is all left behind when Fugo wraps his arms around him, both human and non. The first thing Fugo will realize is how small Basil is, even at sixteen. He's thin and frail and weighs practically nothing, yet in Basil's mind it feels like every ounce of his weight right now is being supported by Fugo...probably because it is. If it wasn't, he would just be on the floor, sobbing incoherently until this feeling eventually passes. The same as it always does. Here, back home, this feeling has never really changed. Basil had just gotten used to handling it on his own.
It's unlikely that Basil has had this kind of comforting directed at him in literal years. Polly has probably tried, but there's not much she can do on her own when Basil's usual response is to lock himself in his bedroom, or the bathroom. But here? He could do that, sure...but his feet didn't bring him back to his room. It brought him here, to one of the few people in Ryslig that make him feel safe.
I'm here. You're here. It's going to be okay.
Where Basil had simply been holding onto the front of Fugo's shirt a moment ago has now changed to Basil holding onto Fugo properly, his arms wrapped around his neck as best he's able to reach. It hurts, it hurts so much, and he can't stop his own mind from continuing to twist itself into knots coming up with all the ways this is going to go poorly for him. Fugo is going to get tired of his constant outbursts, or someone else in the house is, he's going to get kicked out. On and on in this way until it becomes nothing but white noise against the feeling of Fugo's heart beating between them.
It's the feeling that helps assure Basil even through those intrusive thoughts that he isn't just saying these things to quiet him. He means it when he says that he's here for him, and that he's going to be okay...even if it feels like the gravity of the weight of this world is going to crush him.
He knows that Fugo isn't going to understand even a fraction of what's going through his mind right now, because it's so much more than merely what's happened this past week. This past week has just exacerbated his already existing problems to a fever pitch, to the point where he can't handle it any longer. And so...he cries. He's near hysterics at this point, the laughter dissolving into hiccuping sobs that he muffles into the edge of Fugo's shoulder. He doesn't even have the energy to be embarrassed by crying all over someone so new to him. He really doesn't.
It's a sad fact, too, that Basil has broken down like this so often that it actually lasts for less time than it feels like it does. He sits there and cries himself hoarse, until his voice no longer leaves him and the crying turns instead into an exercise in controlling his breathing. Clutching against Fugo, curled up as small as possible, and thinking...this has to be a punishment. For all of the bad things he's done and never owned up to, he's finally being punished for it all.]
[Basil is small. Not just physically, although he is short for his age and worryingly thin. He makes himself small by curling his shoulders inward and keeping his gangly limbs as close to his body as possible. He’s always the last one to take a seat at the table, or in the car. He doesn’t ask for seconds. When he needs something, if he works up the nerve to ask, he always prefaces the request with a wince and I’m sorry.
Taking up space makes him uncomfortable. He is always so surprised to be invited; so awkward when asked about his day, or after his own thoughts. Basil is not used to existing in a space where there is room for him.]
[Fugo holds him. He doesn’t push him away, or try to soothe him through his outburst before its natural ending. There is space here for Basil’s tears, his choked laugher, and his shuddering sobs; for all the ugly emotions that come spilling out of him, too large to be kept hidden, for as long as he needs to express them. Basil cries himself hoarse on his shoulder to the rhythm of his heartbeat, which gradually calms and settles as it becomes clear to Fugo that the other boy isn't going to slip through his fingers like smoke.
Eventually, the crying fit starts to wear itself out. But rather than relaxing, Basil just seems to curl in on himself tighter. His hands are tight in Fugo's shirt, his breathing stuttering and uneven even as he tries to steady it out. It's ... too familiar. But at the same time strange. Because he can remember being in Basil's position: of being so upset that all he could do was cry, all the while furious with himself for being so out of control, hiding his face in his grandmother's shoulder. She never turned him away, no matter how stupid his reason for being upset.
She just held him, for as long as he needed.]
[As Basil starts to calm, one of Fugo's hands begin to move back and forth between his shoulders. He joins Basil on a choppy inhale, then purposefully slows his own breathing to give him a rhythm to follow. At first it's only to a count of three, in and out. But as Basil picks up on it, it continues to slow; to a count of five, eventually down to seven.]
Stay as long as you need. Okay?
[They don't have to move until Basil is ready. If this is as far as Basil can make it, Fugo will gladly meet him here.]
[There is a lot one can glean from Basil just by watching the way he goes about his day at the palazzo. The true tragedy here, perhaps, is the fact that this is not how Basil has always been. Something happened to instill these behaviors in him. They've forced him to live carefully, keeping himself guarded and not expecting much of anything out of anyone else. Or, more accurately, afraid to merely exist at the risk of burdening those around him. Being brought in here by Fugo has completely turned that usual mindset on its head, because for so long Basil had largely been alone. Struggling alone. Ostrasized by his peers.
But here? He's taken care of. He's welcomed. He's been given everything he could possibly need to live, and more.
...and yet, all Basil can think is: if they knew...
If they only knew.
That awful feeling one is left with after crying hard for a while starts to set in as Basil's breathing slows to match Fugo's. His head aches, he's congested, and he's reasonably sure that the dampness of Fugo's shoulder currently is his fault. Yet another thing to feel guilty about, if it weren't for the fact that he is currently so immensely emotionally exhausted that he no longer has the capacity to feel anything else.
He's just...so tired. And this is only just the beginning.
Maybe the worst part is the fact that if Fugo asked him "Why are you crying?", he wouldn't have a clear answer. He's always been a crier, and often would cry over smaller, more innocuous things. And, logically, you would assume not being able to remember potential atrocities would spare you from having to feel anything at all. For Basil, however, it's the exact opposite. His imagination is allowed to run wild filling in the blanks, and given the ammunition it has...it was never going to go well.
So by the time the crying finally stops and Basil is left knelt on the floor, still holding onto Fugo as if he's afraid he might disappear, he doesn't move. He feels like he should- every cell is screaming something about how he should give Fugo space now, he shouldn't linger- but he just...he can't. His body feels heavy and weak at the same time, and Fugo's embrace is comforting. It makes him feel safe. That's why he tightens his grip just a fraction, burying his face against the Mer's collar for a moment.
I’m just glad that you were able to make it back home to us.
[Basil hasn’t shown any sign of letting go yet. There’s a pinch in Fugo’s lower back; one of his feet prickles in a way that tells him that it’s on the edge of falling asleep. It’s fine. They can stay this way a while longer. If it really starts to hurt, he can adjust his position.]
Did you get caught up in those pulses?
[The ones that came from Bavan. The waves of anger, hate, and pain that turned people into very literal shadows of themselves.]
[Basil... doesn't know what happened to him. This is immediately alarming. Did he die? ... no, it can't be that. Thank God, it wasn't that. Because Basil had died, he wouldn't be here; without swearing allegiance to either of the gods, Basil would not have revived until the fourth of February. Even so, all four of Fugo's limbs briefly tighten around Basil as he considers this awful prospect.]
I'm sorry that happened to you. [He hesitates, wavering back and forth between reassuring Basil that he doesn't have to talk about it if he doesn't want to. Or--] I hate it. When this place leaves gaps in our memories. Not knowing what happened feels so awful.
[The holes left behind by a death. Absences burned in by experiences so painful that they are simply a blur, too awful for the mind to properly hold on to.]
[Yes, fortunately the one thing beyond the changes Basil has avoided so far is death. He was never in any real danger either, as a Shade, even though he doesn't remember the encounters he had or the people he terrorized...in the end, things could have gone a lot worse for him, but they didn't. A calm before the inevitable storm, as it were.
Which isn't to say that Basil is okay after all of this, of course. He's...very much not, actually, and it's going to take some time for him to recover from it. Fugo may not be surprised to find that he isn't going to leave the Palazzo again at all this month, not unless he's coaxed outside.
But there is more to it than just that, and Basil himself is waffling on whether or not he wants to talk about it. He thinks he's able to now without getting too upset, thanks to his discussion with Komaeda...and Fugo, he thinks, should at least know that something strange went on.
So, after a moment, Basil sits back a little to give Fugo some space again. He doesn't move far, just enough so that they can look at each other.]
...all I remember...
[He swallows hard, then repeats the words burned into his mind:]
[When Fugo feels Basil begin to ease back, he loosens his grip enough that Basil has room to comfortably move. Basil will find Fugo's worry and relief brushed over his sharp features in equal measure. An old instinct, rusty with disuse after a year without chasing after Narancia, urges him to push Basil's bangs out of his eyes to get a better look at his face. Just to make doubly, triply sure that he is physically alright.]
That sounds like the 38-8... [Fugo doesn't know Katurian. Well, not personally, anyway. He's that guy on the network who thought they were all dead; who used to go by < pillowman >, until someone pointed out to him that it sounded like a sex thing.] There... are plenty of reasons, why he might not be there.
[There is one that comes to mind. Katurian is new. He likely doesn't have much money, so he would have no place to go beyond the 38-8. It's doubtful that whatever job, if he's working at all, would require him to work during the midst of everything that happened this past fog. Unless Katurian had to find somewhere else to hide, chances are... he's one of the many, many soulless bodies being kept at the morgue. As an unchanged human, unless he gained some of the abilities of a shade, he would be just as vulnerable as any of Bavan's citizens. Maybe even moreso, given how unfamiliar he is with Ryslig.]
If you want, tomorrow while I'm in the city for work, I can go to the 38-8. You can come along with, or stay here. Either way I'll ask after him, to see if anyone knows where he might be. Okay?
Basil's expression twists, at that. And for a moment, he can't meet his gaze at all. He knows he's trying to help, genuinely, and he appreciates that more than anything.
But...
The grip of Basil's hands along Fugo, now more slight than it was before, tightens a fraction.]
[Even before Basil speaks, Fugo has an inkling of what he's going to say; he can feel it in the twist of his fingers, the subtle tightening of his grip.]
There is-- always that chance, when one of us goes missing.
[Frenzied, dead, or returned to the sea of stars. When someone goes missing, it's almost always one of those three.]
If he did die, this week... chances are that he'll come back, with the next fog. We all do. The fog doesn't let go of us that easily.
[This is likely cold comfort, given that Basil can't remember why he was supposed to meet Katurian.]
[It's been, quite frankly, horrifying for Basil to think about. Why is Katurian missing? Is it his fault? It's likely not, but since he can't remember...he isn't going to know until he gets to speak to Katurian again. And that's if he comes back.
It all feels very selfish of him, for that to be his main worry...but he can't help it. It's been on his mind ever since he came to in the city.]
[All things considered, it isn't that long of a time. But for Basil, who has barely been in Ryslig for that long himself-- whose memory of the past week is completely blank-- it probably seems horribly long.]
[It does feel horribly long. But there's nothing he can do but wait. Wait, and hope that he'll be okay.
In the end, Basil is just thankful he can be here. He isn't sure how he'd cope with having to be alone right now, in a small apartment, even if he's not particularly up for being around a lot of people...it still means everything just having them all here, ambiently.]
Okay...
[He just has to accept it for now. There's no point in dwelling over it, even though he knows he will in spite of himself.]
I'm...I'm going to stay at the house for a while.
[Until he's forced to leave when the changes hit, in fact.]
Alright. You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to.
[To be honest, hearing that Basil doesn't want to leave the palazzo is a relief. Basil is old enough to decide for himself what he wants to do, so Fugo has no intention of insisting that he needs a chaperone when he visits Bavan. Even so, Fugo can't help but worry for him when he's by himself. As much as he resents the fact that the fog changes them at all, the reality of their situation is that all newcomers are particularly vulnerable until theirs begin. And Basil is small for his age; easily frightened, easily cowed. He is an easy target, for those who have been transformed by the fog and those who live in fear of it.
Fugo knows better than to expect the world to be kind to him. So he's very glad, that Basil will stay at the safest place he knows on the peninsula.]
Are you hungry? How long has it been since you've eaten anything?
I don't...remember. Since I was here last, I think...
[He absolutely did not eat anything as a Shade, and that was an entire week's worth of time. But that probably saved him from starving to death or something drastic like that, you know how Ryslig can be.]
[He nods, because however much he doesn't feel like it...that much he can agree with. Food should happen. It will help him feel better, he knows it. It's the same thing Polly always used to tell him too, on those days he simply...didn't want dinner.
[Basil's question confuses Fugo. It's written all over his face. He doesn't understand why Basil would ask that because, to him, it isn't even a question.]
What do you mean? I'm going with you, of course.
[Already, he's thinking about what's in the fridge. There are some leftovers, of course, which would be easiest. But if Basil is in the mood for something else, Fugo wouldn't mind making him something fresh at all. And of course he'll have to make him some tea.]
[Basil, meanwhile...didn't want to assume anything. Of course he doesn't want to be alone right now, but at the same time...if Fugo expected him to go by himself, he would have. He wouldn't have complained.
The way he says it- I'm going with you, of course- as if it never was a possibility...makes Basil swallow hard against the lump that suddenly forms in his throat, his eyes darting down for a second to look sheepishly at his feet as he pushes himself properly upright.]
Oh. R...right.
["I just didn't want to bother you" "You don't have to" "If you're busy, I can go by myself"]
[Fugo follows Basil up, reluctantly unwinding his multi-limbed embrace, the fins on his legs idly flicking to set themselves right after not having much room to move. It's obvious, between the question and Basil's following body language, that this isn't the outcome Basil was expecting. This, too, is familiar. Except this time, Fugo is the one offering an unexpected kindness.]
It's okay. [Fugo falls quiet, rolling a thought in his mind. Then, when he speaks, he offers Basil his hand.] When you're used to taking care of things on your own... it's just easier to expect that people won't be there.
[From a very early age, Fugo learned not to expect things. Of course his parents were never home to eat with them; they had more important things to do. Of course his brothers wouldn't let him into their room after a bad dream; they hated him, because being a prodigy was more novel than a matched pair of twins. Of course his grandfather would never tell him it's alright if he produced less than perfect results on a test or at the piano bench; his high expectations were meant to help Fugo grow.
Expecting nothing meant less disappointment. Wanting nothing meant hurting less, even if only by a little.]
I need to be reminded it doesn't have to be that way too, some-- [A pause. Then he smiles, a bit self-deprecating, and shakes his head.] Often.
It surprises me all the time, that I don't have to be alone if I don't want to be.
[Basil hadn't known how much he desired the contact he'd had with Fugo until they'd parted again, leaving him feeling...not as bad as he had before, but with that slowly encroaching sense of anxiety that is sortof his baseline these days. So when he offers his hand to take, he's once again left feeling surprised, because most people wouldn't do that sort of thing. When he and his friends were younger...it was normal. They held hands all the time. But now that he's older, it's just percieved as strange, or unnecessarily clingy for a sixteen year-old. Childish. Or, to hear Aubrey and her gang talk of him, weird.
But despite that, he takes Fugo's hand to hold. He's in a position right now where he isn't sure he really cares about all of that stuff.]
T-then...I think I'd rather not be alone, right now.
[He decides to be honest, too, if Fugo is going to be honest with him.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Post event, Jan 23rd ish, cw: memory loss
Like, entirely. Unless someone caught the fit he was having in his room as he changed into a Shade, it would have seemed like he just disappeared entirely. No word, not indication, nothing. Even his bedroom door is still locked, meaning that if anyone wanted to check on him they'd either have to break the lock or get in through some other means. Locked doors don't mean much to Shades, who can simply phase right through them.
It's been over a week now of time lost, because Basil can't remember any of it. Barring the brief blip of terror he felt as the changes began, as well as the ominous insistence that he go find Katurian (who is also nowhere to be found), there's...nothing. And that honestly scares Basil more than if he could remember. It's only thanks to Crash that he made it back to the Palazzo at all, escorted here by the Minotaur when he didn't have access to his laptop to actually contact anyone.
And now...he's back. And as much as he wants to just run to his room and hide, that actually isn't the first thing he thinks to do. No, the first thing he does is rush to Fugo's room, to knock on the door tentatively...and pray that he's actually home.]
no subject
[It doesn't take long for Fugo to discover this. Part of his routine is checking in on Basil in the morning before he leaves for his first shift at Persephone's. Basil is quiet and shy; he doesn't like using the kitchen if someone else is in it without an invitation, so Fugo makes a point of making sure to eat breakfast with him.
But that morning, Basil doesn't answer the knock to his door. He doesn't answer it in the afternoon, or the evening. And when Fugo, guilty to invade his privacy, uses one of the property's master keys to unlock it-- the room is empty, with no sign as to where he might have gone.]
[There is no way to know what might have happened. Was his stay in Ryslig simply brief? Has he slipped into a heavy sleep, the way Giorno once did, while memories he didn't experience play out behind his eyelids? Did he get caught up in the pulses emanating from Bavan? Fugo doesn't know. And although he tries to look for Basil, there are no signs of him anywhere. He's just gone. There is nothing he can do about it.
The worry eats at him. His knuckles are a bit raw from where he's been worrying at them enough that Giorno, during the hour a day Fugo allows him to borrow his body, makes a point to massage moisturizing hand cream into his skin.]
[In the time they have lived together, Basil has likely picked up on that Fugo has a number of peculiar habits. One: unless he is in the middle of a private conversation, he leaves doors standing ajar behind him. Two: when Fugo is in his room, even when he sleeps, there is always a light on.
When Basil reaches Fugo's bedroom, warm light spills out from the gap between the door and the frame. The door pushes open underneath his knuckles and there, sitting at his desk in front of some sort of list, is Fugo. He turns to face the door, ready to call out over his shoulder to whomever has come to visit that they can come on-- only to drop his pen at the sight of Basil, red-eyed and exhausted.]
Basil! [He pushes himself up, absently and exasperatedly tugging one of his hip tentacles free from where it's anchored itself around his chair. His fins ripple reflecting the storm of surprise, worry, and painful gladness that brew all at once in his chest.] You're here!
cw: memory loss, disassociation, panic, omori spoilers OH MY
Angry. So very, very angry.
Then, he woke up in the center of Bavan with no recollection of how he even got there, just the insistence burned into his brain that he find somebody that would turn out to be dead. And really, isn't that just what he should expect from his life, at this point? That from now on, things just won't ever be normal again? He's fated to suffer, and go through the same motions of uncertainty and being disillusioned with reality, until he manages to pull himself back together because he has no one to turn to. He's his only friend. He's the only person he can turn to. There is no one else to tell him that things are going to be okay.
But that...hasn't been the case, in Ryslig. People he barely knows, and in a lot of cases has only just met, have been falling all over themselves to help him. Komaeda, taking him in for the evening with not a single question asked, tending to his scrapes and making sure he was fed and looked after. Crash, who made sure he made it back to the Palazzo safely when he didn't know how to get there on his own.
And Fugo, who literally drops what he's doing at the mere sight of him, rushing to his feet with an expression of such genuine relief that it just doesn't seem real. Not even Basil's own parents cared about him as much as this man who has known Basil for barely a short handful of weeks.
Basil had been lingering in the doorway, but when Fugo gets up...he automatically starts forward, managing to stagger a single step before he feels his knees try to give out on him. They sort of lock up, and he's not sure if it's from fear, or apprehension, or something else he can't quite place. Instead of staying put where he is, though, Basil tries to push past that feeeling- like trying to walk through cement- and it results in him stumbling, tripping over the last few paces of steps separating him and Fugo until he ends up practically falling into the Mer's arms in his haste to get into the room.
He ends up half-clutching at the front of Fugo's shirt, and for a brief moment it almost sounds like he's...laughing. His breathing is quick and frantic, escaping him in shallow gasps as he struggles to keep himself mostly upright.
How long until Fugo realizes he doesn't want to deal with this anymore? When is the other shoe going to drop, and Komaeda wakes up to the realization that Basil is a burden, and can't ever be expected to be able to fend for himself here? When is he going to go back home, and likely wake up dead, because he drowned in that lake that Aubrey pushed him into, because she despised him so much?
When, when, when-
[What if I told you that he has been very, very bad? That he's done something reprehensible? Would you feel the same then?]
Basil's grip on Fugo falters, as his panicked attempts to draw in breath finally dissolve into tears, his forehead dropping against his chest so he won't have to see him cry.]
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It will hurt later, but Fugo doesn't feel it in the moment. He's too focused on holding Basil tightly to him, the tentacles at his hip instinctively winding around Basil for a four-limbed embrace. Fugo doesn't hold on as tightly as he can, even though he wants to. He has to be careful. He has to be gentle. He is so much stronger than Basil; if he held on as tightly as he could, it would break his bones.]
I'm here. You're here. It's okay, you're okay, it's going to be okay--
[And then, all of a sudden, Basil is crying. He's laughing, too, in a way that sounds painful; in a way that sounds like he can barely breathe. Fugo feels wildly out of his depth. He isn't good at this. He doesn't know what to do. Basil is in so much pain. He is bleeding out and Fugo has no idea where the wound is, or how it happened. Something happened, when Basil went away-- something happened and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He repeats himself, over and over again, trying desperately to give Basil something to ground himself while he's lost out at sea.]
I'm here. You're here. I'm here. You're here.
[This close, Basil will be able to hear Fugo's frantic and runaway heart: it thuds against his ribs, beating painfully fast. He is so, so glad to see him. He has only known him a few weeks; he knows very little practical facts about Basil.
But there is something so, so painfully familiar about him. Fugo can't stand the idea of Basil facint all of Ryslig alone.]
cw: intrusive thoughts
It's unlikely that Basil has had this kind of comforting directed at him in literal years. Polly has probably tried, but there's not much she can do on her own when Basil's usual response is to lock himself in his bedroom, or the bathroom. But here? He could do that, sure...but his feet didn't bring him back to his room. It brought him here, to one of the few people in Ryslig that make him feel safe.
I'm here. You're here. It's going to be okay.
Where Basil had simply been holding onto the front of Fugo's shirt a moment ago has now changed to Basil holding onto Fugo properly, his arms wrapped around his neck as best he's able to reach. It hurts, it hurts so much, and he can't stop his own mind from continuing to twist itself into knots coming up with all the ways this is going to go poorly for him. Fugo is going to get tired of his constant outbursts, or someone else in the house is, he's going to get kicked out. On and on in this way until it becomes nothing but white noise against the feeling of Fugo's heart beating between them.
It's the feeling that helps assure Basil even through those intrusive thoughts that he isn't just saying these things to quiet him. He means it when he says that he's here for him, and that he's going to be okay...even if it feels like the gravity of the weight of this world is going to crush him.
He knows that Fugo isn't going to understand even a fraction of what's going through his mind right now, because it's so much more than merely what's happened this past week. This past week has just exacerbated his already existing problems to a fever pitch, to the point where he can't handle it any longer. And so...he cries. He's near hysterics at this point, the laughter dissolving into hiccuping sobs that he muffles into the edge of Fugo's shoulder. He doesn't even have the energy to be embarrassed by crying all over someone so new to him. He really doesn't.
It's a sad fact, too, that Basil has broken down like this so often that it actually lasts for less time than it feels like it does. He sits there and cries himself hoarse, until his voice no longer leaves him and the crying turns instead into an exercise in controlling his breathing. Clutching against Fugo, curled up as small as possible, and thinking...this has to be a punishment. For all of the bad things he's done and never owned up to, he's finally being punished for it all.]
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Taking up space makes him uncomfortable. He is always so surprised to be invited; so awkward when asked about his day, or after his own thoughts. Basil is not used to existing in a space where there is room for him.]
[Fugo holds him. He doesn’t push him away, or try to soothe him through his outburst before its natural ending. There is space here for Basil’s tears, his choked laugher, and his shuddering sobs; for all the ugly emotions that come spilling out of him, too large to be kept hidden, for as long as he needs to express them. Basil cries himself hoarse on his shoulder to the rhythm of his heartbeat, which gradually calms and settles as it becomes clear to Fugo that the other boy isn't going to slip through his fingers like smoke.
Eventually, the crying fit starts to wear itself out. But rather than relaxing, Basil just seems to curl in on himself tighter. His hands are tight in Fugo's shirt, his breathing stuttering and uneven even as he tries to steady it out. It's ... too familiar. But at the same time strange. Because he can remember being in Basil's position: of being so upset that all he could do was cry, all the while furious with himself for being so out of control, hiding his face in his grandmother's shoulder. She never turned him away, no matter how stupid his reason for being upset.
She just held him, for as long as he needed.]
[As Basil starts to calm, one of Fugo's hands begin to move back and forth between his shoulders. He joins Basil on a choppy inhale, then purposefully slows his own breathing to give him a rhythm to follow. At first it's only to a count of three, in and out. But as Basil picks up on it, it continues to slow; to a count of five, eventually down to seven.]
Stay as long as you need. Okay?
[They don't have to move until Basil is ready. If this is as far as Basil can make it, Fugo will gladly meet him here.]
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But here? He's taken care of. He's welcomed. He's been given everything he could possibly need to live, and more.
...and yet, all Basil can think is: if they knew...
If they only knew.
That awful feeling one is left with after crying hard for a while starts to set in as Basil's breathing slows to match Fugo's. His head aches, he's congested, and he's reasonably sure that the dampness of Fugo's shoulder currently is his fault. Yet another thing to feel guilty about, if it weren't for the fact that he is currently so immensely emotionally exhausted that he no longer has the capacity to feel anything else.
He's just...so tired. And this is only just the beginning.
Maybe the worst part is the fact that if Fugo asked him "Why are you crying?", he wouldn't have a clear answer. He's always been a crier, and often would cry over smaller, more innocuous things. And, logically, you would assume not being able to remember potential atrocities would spare you from having to feel anything at all. For Basil, however, it's the exact opposite. His imagination is allowed to run wild filling in the blanks, and given the ammunition it has...it was never going to go well.
So by the time the crying finally stops and Basil is left knelt on the floor, still holding onto Fugo as if he's afraid he might disappear, he doesn't move. He feels like he should- every cell is screaming something about how he should give Fugo space now, he shouldn't linger- but he just...he can't. His body feels heavy and weak at the same time, and Fugo's embrace is comforting. It makes him feel safe. That's why he tightens his grip just a fraction, burying his face against the Mer's collar for a moment.
And when he does finally speak...]
I'm s-sorry I was gone...
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[Basil hasn’t shown any sign of letting go yet. There’s a pinch in Fugo’s lower back; one of his feet prickles in a way that tells him that it’s on the edge of falling asleep. It’s fine. They can stay this way a while longer. If it really starts to hurt, he can adjust his position.]
Did you get caught up in those pulses?
[The ones that came from Bavan. The waves of anger, hate, and pain that turned people into very literal shadows of themselves.]
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He continues after a pause to breathe, muffled into cloth.]
I don't remember anything...I don't...I j-just woke up in the city...
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I'm sorry that happened to you. [He hesitates, wavering back and forth between reassuring Basil that he doesn't have to talk about it if he doesn't want to. Or--] I hate it. When this place leaves gaps in our memories. Not knowing what happened feels so awful.
[The holes left behind by a death. Absences burned in by experiences so painful that they are simply a blur, too awful for the mind to properly hold on to.]
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Which isn't to say that Basil is okay after all of this, of course. He's...very much not, actually, and it's going to take some time for him to recover from it. Fugo may not be surprised to find that he isn't going to leave the Palazzo again at all this month, not unless he's coaxed outside.
But there is more to it than just that, and Basil himself is waffling on whether or not he wants to talk about it. He thinks he's able to now without getting too upset, thanks to his discussion with Komaeda...and Fugo, he thinks, should at least know that something strange went on.
So, after a moment, Basil sits back a little to give Fugo some space again. He doesn't move far, just enough so that they can look at each other.]
...all I remember...
[He swallows hard, then repeats the words burned into his mind:]
"Find Katurian. Room 305." ...b-but he...he wasn't there.
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That sounds like the 38-8... [Fugo doesn't know Katurian. Well, not personally, anyway. He's that guy on the network who thought they were all dead; who used to go by < pillowman >, until someone pointed out to him that it sounded like a sex thing.] There... are plenty of reasons, why he might not be there.
[There is one that comes to mind. Katurian is new. He likely doesn't have much money, so he would have no place to go beyond the 38-8. It's doubtful that whatever job, if he's working at all, would require him to work during the midst of everything that happened this past fog. Unless Katurian had to find somewhere else to hide, chances are... he's one of the many, many soulless bodies being kept at the morgue. As an unchanged human, unless he gained some of the abilities of a shade, he would be just as vulnerable as any of Bavan's citizens. Maybe even moreso, given how unfamiliar he is with Ryslig.]
If you want, tomorrow while I'm in the city for work, I can go to the 38-8. You can come along with, or stay here. Either way I'll ask after him, to see if anyone knows where he might be. Okay?
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Basil's expression twists, at that. And for a moment, he can't meet his gaze at all. He knows he's trying to help, genuinely, and he appreciates that more than anything.
But...
The grip of Basil's hands along Fugo, now more slight than it was before, tightens a fraction.]
Mr. Komaeda...he said...
[...]
...he said that he was probably dead.
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There is-- always that chance, when one of us goes missing.
[Frenzied, dead, or returned to the sea of stars. When someone goes missing, it's almost always one of those three.]
If he did die, this week... chances are that he'll come back, with the next fog. We all do. The fog doesn't let go of us that easily.
[This is likely cold comfort, given that Basil can't remember why he was supposed to meet Katurian.]
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It all feels very selfish of him, for that to be his main worry...but he can't help it. It's been on his mind ever since he came to in the city.]
W...when is the next fog?
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[All things considered, it isn't that long of a time. But for Basil, who has barely been in Ryslig for that long himself-- whose memory of the past week is completely blank-- it probably seems horribly long.]
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In the end, Basil is just thankful he can be here. He isn't sure how he'd cope with having to be alone right now, in a small apartment, even if he's not particularly up for being around a lot of people...it still means everything just having them all here, ambiently.]
Okay...
[He just has to accept it for now. There's no point in dwelling over it, even though he knows he will in spite of himself.]
I'm...I'm going to stay at the house for a while.
[Until he's forced to leave when the changes hit, in fact.]
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[To be honest, hearing that Basil doesn't want to leave the palazzo is a relief. Basil is old enough to decide for himself what he wants to do, so Fugo has no intention of insisting that he needs a chaperone when he visits Bavan. Even so, Fugo can't help but worry for him when he's by himself. As much as he resents the fact that the fog changes them at all, the reality of their situation is that all newcomers are particularly vulnerable until theirs begin. And Basil is small for his age; easily frightened, easily cowed. He is an easy target, for those who have been transformed by the fog and those who live in fear of it.
Fugo knows better than to expect the world to be kind to him. So he's very glad, that Basil will stay at the safest place he knows on the peninsula.]
Are you hungry? How long has it been since you've eaten anything?
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[Basil flusters because, well.]
I don't...remember. Since I was here last, I think...
[He absolutely did not eat anything as a Shade, and that was an entire week's worth of time. But that probably saved him from starving to death or something drastic like that, you know how Ryslig can be.]
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You should probably eat something, then. It doesn't have to be much, but you'll regret it in the morning if you go to bed without eating.
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But before he can go...he has to ask.]
...will you still be here?
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What do you mean? I'm going with you, of course.
[Already, he's thinking about what's in the fridge. There are some leftovers, of course, which would be easiest. But if Basil is in the mood for something else, Fugo wouldn't mind making him something fresh at all. And of course he'll have to make him some tea.]
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The way he says it- I'm going with you, of course- as if it never was a possibility...makes Basil swallow hard against the lump that suddenly forms in his throat, his eyes darting down for a second to look sheepishly at his feet as he pushes himself properly upright.]
Oh. R...right.
["I just didn't want to bother you"
"You don't have to"
"If you're busy, I can go by myself"]
...thank you.
cw: allusions to past abuse
It's okay. [Fugo falls quiet, rolling a thought in his mind. Then, when he speaks, he offers Basil his hand.] When you're used to taking care of things on your own... it's just easier to expect that people won't be there.
[From a very early age, Fugo learned not to expect things. Of course his parents were never home to eat with them; they had more important things to do. Of course his brothers wouldn't let him into their room after a bad dream; they hated him, because being a prodigy was more novel than a matched pair of twins. Of course his grandfather would never tell him it's alright if he produced less than perfect results on a test or at the piano bench; his high expectations were meant to help Fugo grow.
Expecting nothing meant less disappointment. Wanting nothing meant hurting less, even if only by a little.]
I need to be reminded it doesn't have to be that way too, some-- [A pause. Then he smiles, a bit self-deprecating, and shakes his head.] Often.
It surprises me all the time, that I don't have to be alone if I don't want to be.
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But despite that, he takes Fugo's hand to hold. He's in a position right now where he isn't sure he really cares about all of that stuff.]
T-then...I think I'd rather not be alone, right now.
[He decides to be honest, too, if Fugo is going to be honest with him.]
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