hastegas (
hastegas) wrote in
jigglephysics2015-05-18 09:07 pm
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Life had long since become cyclical for Tidus.
He wakes up. He eats. He mulls around the house. He goes for a long swim. He comes back in, showers, heads to practice. He comes home. He swims again or practices on his own on the deck of his home by the water. He tucks back into bed again and sleeps.
The only upheavals in his painfully predictable life alone in his home come from games, the occasional night out with his team or an adoring fan and Auron's visits. He looks forward to them, no matter the context, because they tear up the heavy, grey blanket that has long since settled over him and smothered him slowly under its weight. He wants change. He wants a life without sunrises and sunsets he has to count down. Tidus wants tomorrows that come too soon and yesterdays that leave too late. He wants adventure, excitement, something to break this mold he has been shoved into as he cycles through his life in a house of ghosts and silence.
Practice never brings fatigue and coming home in the dimming light of dusk brings little hope of sleep when he hasn't worn out his reserves of energy just yet. It's not that he wants to sleep, that's just boring, but it would at least be a change of pace to get truly worn out and knocked to the ground by his own muscle aches. Nothing in this common rotation brings challenge for him anymore. It's likely why he lives for the thrill of games and the adrenaline that runs through him right before he submerges himself.
He pushes the door open and greets the quiet, emptiness of his house with a loud 'I'm home!' that seems to echo off of nothing and greet him in return. He crinkles his nose and tosses his bag of wet clothes from his practice across the room towards his couch.
"I can't think of a single thing I want to do tonight... No one even wanted to go out this time. This sucks."
He wakes up. He eats. He mulls around the house. He goes for a long swim. He comes back in, showers, heads to practice. He comes home. He swims again or practices on his own on the deck of his home by the water. He tucks back into bed again and sleeps.
The only upheavals in his painfully predictable life alone in his home come from games, the occasional night out with his team or an adoring fan and Auron's visits. He looks forward to them, no matter the context, because they tear up the heavy, grey blanket that has long since settled over him and smothered him slowly under its weight. He wants change. He wants a life without sunrises and sunsets he has to count down. Tidus wants tomorrows that come too soon and yesterdays that leave too late. He wants adventure, excitement, something to break this mold he has been shoved into as he cycles through his life in a house of ghosts and silence.
Practice never brings fatigue and coming home in the dimming light of dusk brings little hope of sleep when he hasn't worn out his reserves of energy just yet. It's not that he wants to sleep, that's just boring, but it would at least be a change of pace to get truly worn out and knocked to the ground by his own muscle aches. Nothing in this common rotation brings challenge for him anymore. It's likely why he lives for the thrill of games and the adrenaline that runs through him right before he submerges himself.
He pushes the door open and greets the quiet, emptiness of his house with a loud 'I'm home!' that seems to echo off of nothing and greet him in return. He crinkles his nose and tosses his bag of wet clothes from his practice across the room towards his couch.
"I can't think of a single thing I want to do tonight... No one even wanted to go out this time. This sucks."
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There are two sides to living in Zanarkand. One, the peace he supposes he should be grateful for; and two, his utter detachment from every event that goes on around him. It's what happens when you live in a bubble, the same steps retread in the same small space over and over; all places, no matter how large they seem, become small once you've found each edge of their confines. After traveling from one end of Spira to another, Zanarkand couldn't be anything but claustrophobic with its skyscrapers and its endless ocean.
It's one of many things he didn't consider when he made the journey. Those many things include among them the adjustment it would take to live in a time so removed. It may have existed once, but Jecht's world was a different world.
And Jecht is the one reason he's here. He doesn't even surprise himself anymore when he drifts irrevocably toward the little houseboat tied to the dock. He stands on the deck, back facing the city, looking out to sea. The sun sets slowly. Something about it is different than the sky in Spira, and he's seen so many different skies. Clouds catching fire; pale, canary-yellow suns; ruddy, storm-laden firmament. In Zanarkand the heavens seem just that much further away. The stars are more difficult to make out above the city lights.
Auron leaves his thoughts when he hears the sound of Tidus's voice float up muffled through the floor of the deck, loud and bored. It's been an uncomfortable summer. Air too heavy, too hot. Blitzball is the only respite anyone has in this city, but it means something else to the boy below deck. He can sympathize.
Of course, that doesn't mean he's here to entertain.
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Auron's presence is never unusual. While he is not a constant, his sudden arrivals are and have long since stopped being true surprises. Auron is always there just the right amount of time he needs to be. It'd be stranger if Tidus got a proper greeting or some prior warning from him instead of always being something he happens upon as a silhouette or a voice in his ear.
Tidus can't allow for things to remain silent, given his brash nature, so he puts his hands on his hips and calls out. It doesn't matter that he's undoubtedly already been noticed, he'll announce his presence here without hesitation. It's a reminder to Auron and everyone that he exists.
"Don't you ever knock? Or use the door?"
It's not really an offended tone that he's using, just one sharp enough to center things in on himself.
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It's something.
Auron glances sideways, toward the sound of footsteps on stairs. Tidus is rarely quiet. Not in sadness, not in happiness, and surely not in boredom. So when he immediately breaks the silence, there's no reaction. But when has he ever seemed taken off-guard by anything? What could shock the dead?
"I didn't want to interrupt."
The even sound of his voice falls somewhere inscrutable between sarcasm, nonchalance, and amusement.
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Tidus gives him a look, crossing his arms and appearing perplexed. He looks around, as if expecting to see some invisible guest he hasn't yet acknowledged. What was there to interrupt? It's only him. Today is just like any other day, all routine and no surprises or excitement. All quiet and loneliness in a house that feels vacant, even with himself inside. He's barely a resident here anyway, just ghosting through as needed. This house is a sour reminder of how his life has progressed.
He approaches, arms uncrossing and hands moving to his hips to rest. He bends forward at the waist, looking up at Auron with a frown.
"What do you think you're interrupting? And it's not like you've cared about that before."
This guy who has shadowed his way in and out of his life for the past 10 years doesn't always have discretion.
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When Tidus comes to stand before him, hands on his hips with his skinny elbows bent at sharp angles like he's trying to be chastizing, he lifts his gaze to look him up and down. Auron's face is half-hidden behind his collar and his sunglasses, the latter of which he obtained not long after he arrived. The scar running down the right half of his face is what causes him to stand out among the people here more than even his manner of dress or speech. The people of this city lead easy lives, free of turmoil; free of Spira's hard choices; free of Sin, and fiends, and early, bloody deaths.
Even Tidus has noticed how out-of-place he is. But Auron has never answered any of his questions, so, in the end, he knows scant more than anyone else could claim to.
The answers to those questions aren't important any longer. Likewise, neither is the answer to the question he's asking now.
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"Not usually. It's not like anyone else comes here, really. Still, it's weird to just find someone out on my roof or sitting in my living room with no warning," he explains, unoffended but straightforward.
"This is why I never bring anyone home."
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Some discretion would be nice, although he has his suspicions that Tidus doesn't see the use in it. Much like his father wouldn't have. For that reason, he can't even blame it on age. Regardless, he didn't come here to impart life lessons — He knows the futility too well. The only difference he knows how to make is by being here. And if that means untimely visits, well...
That's just who he is.
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There's got to be some reason he's here aside from invading his space and continuing to not have any proper manners or consideration for Tidus's privacy. Did he want something? Was something going on? Or did he just want to watch over him, even now, when he was nearly an adult?
Tidus strides away from him to the railing of the deck to lean against it, glancing out at the dying sun and waiting for some kind of response from Auron. He expects the usual sparseness he always seems to get from Auron. The barebones responses are almost more tiresome than a drawn out explanation to him.
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Not that he could understand why it's truly so ridiculous. Jecht would probably laugh too. Would have laughed, if he'd been able to stay long enough to see his attempts to acclimate, overwhelmed by the bright lights and the task set out before him. He was never all that good with children.
It's easier now.
Mostly.
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He's always chuckling at him, laughing even when he hasn't said one funny thing! For such a humorless looking guy, Auron sure finds Tidus amusing. He huffs, crossing his arms behind his head and keeping his back turned to Auron as he tries to think of some better way to question him and get some real answers out of him.
"You probably... don't have to even watch over me like this anymore. I'll be an adult soon, you know. You should go find friends your age, old man. Why not go find something better to do with your time now? I'm sure you don't have to worry about me anymore, right?"
It's not like he wants that sinking loneliness of a constantly vacant house back, but maybe Auron would tell him why he's still here.
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It's a rhetorical question, of course, but when he asks it he sounds as serious as he always does. Auron doesn't move from where he's leaning at first, but he reaches up to adjust his collar, tugging at it with his fingers while he watches Tidus fidget and stretch with his back to him, silhouette outlined by the fading color of a sky on fire guttering out.
Auron puts his hand behind his back to push himself upright with his eyes to the ground.
"If that's what you want..."
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Really, it's all rambling and some frustration. He's never known what Auron wants to be to him and it's frustrating. It's like still being alone, just with a shadow that hovers behind you from time to time to confirm you're still alive.
He's never been able to tell if Auron is permanent or not and it makes him just as frustrating as his parents had been. It's probably why he's tried to seem distant from him as he had with his dad and his mom as he grew up. It's unconvincing, it always was, but it's the best he can do given his circumstances.
In the end, he doesn't want Auron to leave. He doesn't want to be alone. He just wants something solid from him for once.
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Auron can't blame him for that. In the past he's opted not to spare Tidus's feelings if there was something that was necessary for him to hear, but this is one situation where there's nothing else he can say, through no choice of his own. No real choice, anyway. It isn't as though he can admit that he's from another world, or that he died almost a decade ago. No matter his intentions, nothing in Tidus's life has prepared him to believe these things.
So he carries on. It's not really so bad, but sometimes he wishes...
"I have no reason to leave. Even if that is what you want."
Instead of leaning back against the mast again, he steps up to the rail at the nose of the ship. There's the faintest staining of color over the horizon, a ribbon over the dark, flat sea, where somewhere beyond lies Spira, and Sin. Out this way the light pollution isn't as extreme, so on good nights the sky comes close to true blackness. Perhaps it's that that draws him, or the sea itself, or simply the little houseboat and the person inside it. If he's honest with himself, he hasn't put much thought into what brings him around day-to-day. Zanarkand has given him plenty of distractions in the form of this careless, mouthy, over-excitable seventeen-year old.
"You can tell me."
If he wants him to go, if he doesn't want him to go, if he wants something else entirely.
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If all he could see was all that he knew, what else could he consider truth? He knows there is more, much more, than what's right in front of him, but... no one will tell him the truth. Especially not Auron. It's like he loves to watch Tidus squirm in his own ignorance. His world is limited to what he presumes.
His father is dead.
His mother is dead.
Auron arrived not long after Jecht died.
Tomorrow he will wake up to routine, just like any other day.
These are the things Tidus feels he can be sure about most of the time, though he knows there's more going on here. There's much, much more beyond the horizon, but he is limited to the words he's been told so far.
"I don't..."
He frowns and directs his eyes back out on the water.
"I don't want you to leave. I just want you to decide, for once, if you're going to leave or stay. It's hard, you know? Wondering how long I'm gonna be alone again. I get sick of it."
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Before Tidus has a chance to break the silence, Auron speaks.
"It never occurred to me that you noticed."
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There's a little flame back under his words, heating them and making them crackle with annoyance. After this long, how would he NOT notice, really?
"You're the only one here now... there's a huge gap when you leave!"
His hands clench and his head snaps towards Auron, staring him down with indigence. He wasn't upset until now, but he hates when his feelings are ignored. For so long, people have brushed aside his wants and needs. He won't let Auron, who chose to come into his life, get away with it, too.
"Pay more attention to the people around you, old man."
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The individual he has to blame for that is very far away.
Jecht, similarly, continues to operate on borrowed time.
But thinking about that now doesn't help him confront his son.
"The only one?"
Tidus is standing to his right, so in order to face him properly, he has to turn away from the sea and the sky, and back toward the city. Perhaps he leaves out of guilt. It's just — There's so much of it, he can't dig his fingers in to disentangle one reason from another. What use is there in trying to save himself? It's already swallowed him up.
"You mean, pay more attention to you."
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Fans, teammates, they're temporary fixes... but Auron has chosen this path to being his rock. He needs to know its stable. He's waited too long to be assured of that.
He gives him a stern look when Auron looks at him, finally. He reaches out, grasping the sleeve of his haori in his gloved hand, before looking down at the boards of the deck.
"Obviously, that's what I'm saying."
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His expression isn't fixed in place; by nature he's not a welcoming man, but he turns his arm to take gloved wrist in gloved hand anyway. It might even be encouraging, the squeak of leather and the whisper of fabric. Zanarkand's nights are warm enough that he doesn't actually need these things, the layers meant to protect from fiends' sharp teeth and ward away inclement weather. There's rain from time to time, and dark storms pass overhead that make the streets and buildings shine under their inundation, but to the people here it's nothing more than an inconvenience.
That's all most things are.
It occurs to him to question if Tidus feels the same. If he's just as bored, just as wearied, just as ill-at-ease. If he isn't looking for his own escape, knowing there's nowhere to run to. Maybe they can understand one another in some small way, after all.
But rather than asking, he says instead, in his usual tone of voice, "I made my decision a very long time ago."
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He steps forward, pressing his forehead against Auron's chest, and scolds him again.
"Then make it more obvious, damn it... how am I supposed to know what you've decided when you never tell me the truth?"
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"I've never lied to you."
That's precisely the reason why he's shared so little. What sparse truth he could have offered, he has, and the remainder stays locked away until the day comes that something changes, and it can be opened. Or perhaps nothing will ever change. His hope for the future has long been subdued. It's got nothing to do with Zanarkand. It's got nothing to do with Tidus, either. He didn't ask to be watched over. Except now, that's exactly what he's asking for.
But the time's since past that he could say he was doing this for only one person.
"That is to say... I am staying."
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It's not necessarily dishonest for Auron to keep everything under wraps, but it certainly puts a distance between them when Tidus looks at Auron's back and swears he still sees a stranger, sometimes. He just wants a future that's clear and secure. He wants someone to finally hold his hand and comfort him.
At least he can get this, a hand on his neck, warm and resting so carefully. His hands move and graps either side of his haori, at his hips. He's tethering him there.
"Can you promise? I need a reason to believe you."
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Auron touches the back of his thumb to the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
"I promise."
Easy to say, because he already has. Tidus just doesn't know it.
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He's not afraid to challenge the old man to make him keep his word. He won't take a promise lightly, not these days, though his ability to trust in people can be short sometimes.
His hands move up, reaching for Auron's height, and settle on his shoulders. He keeps his forehead pushed into his chest.
"I'm not gonna forgive you, you know. I won't."
He didn't forgive Jecht. He wouldn't forgive Auron, either.
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There's a lightness in his voice, but he wouldn't take that for granted. More surprising things have happened to him. That he's here at all is one of those things, although it's no surprise to him that he kept his promise to Jecht, or that he's making this promise to Tidus now. It seems the path his life has taken — or whatever this could be called — has become almost cyclical. There should be comfort in that. It's all too reminiscent of home.
It's been a long time.
When Tidus reaches for his shoulders, Auron places his gloved hand against his back. It seems the right thing to do. His skinny wrist is hot against his bare arm, and there's tension in his limbs, his hands. He can hear him breathing, see his shoulders rise and fall with it. Whatever this place is, really, it makes no difference.
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