takeashotatlove | whoops my hand slipped // la la la la la (not) therapy

[what is he even doing here

what is this

why]

...

[...There's no real point in hiding anything, but Ian offers a cheery smile regardless. The tense discomfort of his muscles is smoothly replaced by languid, casual movements and hey, pull up a seat, other-Ian, while Ian very deliberately tries to look like he's not trying to look like he'd rather be anywhere else. He volunteered for this after all, so better suck it up and stick with it. At least he can trust that he probably won't be called out on how dishonest he's being right now.]

Coffee?

[Because he's going to need one.]

[Sorry, Ian. You're not getting a smile in response. Instead, this version settles for keeping the flat, unemotional, observational expression on his face even as he pulls out a chair. He takes a seat, making a show (without being consciously intentional) of crossing one leg over the other and then crossing his arms in front of his chest. Cool, composed, closed-off. As always.

Even his alt's presence isn't enough to fix that.

He doesn't even bother to answer, moving one hand away from his body just long enough to motion to the table in front of him as a 'go ahead.']

[Sure, man, let's be awkward about this. Whatever floats your boat.]

Ah, what was that? I couldn't hear you over this tense atmosphere.

[Pointedly. He knows you have a voice, Ian, so use it.]

[Stare.]

Coffee's fine.

[Happy? Don't expect me to be.]

[He knows better than to expect anything even resembling happiness, but hey he could at least give a token attempt at faking it.

Still, Ian shrugs with an easy lift of his shoulders. He could be more annoying about this; he could press his other self into telling him how he likes his coffee, he could coax a 'please' or 'thank you' from him, he could make a comment about which one of them was the host here...

...But his other self isn't in the greatest state and Ian knows that, so he leaves it. It's only a short moment before he's placing a coffee down in front of his other self, and a short second after that he's sliding into his own chair. It's habit that causes his legs to cross, and though his position is much the same as his other self's, it's unmistakable that Ian's body language is much more open.

He blows on his coffee carefully, watching the stream wisp away before taking a short sip. It's hot and bitter, and the warm cup in his hands goes a long way in settling Ian's nerves. He's here for a reason, he just has to... figure out how to accomplish what he wants.]

This is my first time doing something like this, so you'll have to be gentle with me if I'm lacking in ability.

[--Because a little innuendo never hurt, especially in uncomfortable situations, and it's true.]

[It's also much easier to focus on the table, or the cup, or the floor, or anything other than what Ian's having to sit through right now, even though they haven't really started. He anticipates the teasing, but is at least mildly thankful when he doesn't have to deal with it. Dishing it out has always been easier than taking it and he knows his own skills would be enough to get under his skin, especially with the knowledge of certain things. It's a disadvantage to having to deal with himself, because if it was anyone else, he could at least lie. Creatively. Without actually lying.

Yep, that coffee's definitely the sole focus of Ian's attention right now, but he's not moving to pick it up.]

I've lost the capacity to be gentle.

[It's not self-defeating, instead, simply stated as a fact.]

I don't believe that.

[It's alright, because other-Ian isn't the only Ian who is remaining fixated on his coffee. It's easier to talk if he doesn't have to look at himself while he does it.

Ian takes another sip of his coffee, carefully choosing his next words. This is a loaded conversation, and not one he's entirely convinced he's the best choice for, but he's determined to at least try.]

It's... the same feeling as back then, isn't it?

[With Shiro. Except... Doubled. Tripled, really, if the hurt from Shiro is still fresh and--ouch, really.]

[Well, there's a lot of questions of his own he could ask for clarification, if he really cared to talk more. Which he doesn't. Ian shifts a bit, a sign of how uncomfortable he's already getting, but tries to cover it up with simply changing which leg is crossed over the other. Leaning back, he tries to keep his voice cool, but it's hard to accomplish anything when you're talking to someone who knows you so well.]

I don't feel anything, anymore. I can't say.

That's a lie. We both know that if you didn't feel, you wouldn't be here.

[And by the same token, there has to be a part of him that wants to be able to talk about things. Pity, then, that he's getting stuck with himself for it. Because Ian is sure they both know just how much he likes talking about these things. In direct complement to his other self's voice, Ian's tone is smooth; it's the small lilt to his words that set it apart from the cool tone other-Ian has taken, making his a bit friendlier.]

We both know there's no point in pretences here, don't we?

[And it's here that Ian finally glances up from his coffee, to look seriously at his other self. It's uncomfortable to do so, and he wants nothing more than to just go back to staring into his coffee - but he's got to get his point across somehow.]

Why do you think I'm here?

[He raises his arms out at his sides, making a half-shrug, half-"come at me, bro" motion. Honestly, he's pretty sure he's gotten good at not feeling anything except anger and sorrow by this point, which would make him a pretty good candidate for Deboss if he didn't despise them so much. Thankfully, there's no one currently moving in to take advantage of that. Yet.

Ian notices that serious stare, giving his other self a mostly innocent look in return.]

I'm being honest.

[A quirk of an eyebrow is the only answer Ian needs to give to that shrug. He recognises when he's trying to blow himself off, thank you.]

Are you? [His tone is light, tinged with an innocent tone to match his other self's look. He takes another sip of coffee, more to give a pointed pause between his words than anything else.] Or are you just lying to yourself? Twice over, technically.

[Ian settles back against his chair casually, an automatic reaction to his discomfort.]

If you didn't want an opportunity to voice some things, you wouldn't have agreed to this. That we're here at all means we both think there's something worthwhile to be gotten from this conversation.

[He flicks a finger in gesture to his other self's untouched coffee, raising his own to his lips again. Drink your damn coffee, Ian; he didn't make it just so it could go cold. ]

I didn't drug it, if that's what you're thinking.

Just because I felt something before doesn't mean I do now. You have to realize we have a point of auto-pilot. No time for emotions. Get the job done.

[He raises one hand to motion to his other self.]

That's what happens when you run out of anger. When hatred and revenge isn't enough to carry you. One day, the energy runs out. The lies aren't enough. You realize you're helpless to change anything.

[All right, he'll take that coffee, not that he figured it was poisoned. He might have spared a slightly upturned lip of annoyance in the moment he reached for it. There's a spare moment to sip the liquid, a small, very tiny comfort to be found in something familiar, but not enough to have much of an impact on his overall mood.]

I didn't think it was possible. All I have left is a goal with no team. The only reason I exist is to see that through.

[And then, with a dark, bitter tone:]

I keep my promises.

[Well, that... Certainly silences Ian, at least for a moment. This would probably be an easier conversation to have if he couldn't understand exactly where his other self was coming from. Perhaps not as keenly, but - it had been similar, just after Shiro's death. That blank point in time, when he'd stumbled to their home, his strange new gun clutched in his hand like a lifeline...

At that time, he'd reached out desperately the only way he'd known how. He may not have been able to help himself, but helping the women he came across - it had acted as a balm, of sorts.

Of course, there's no point in returning to that suggestion. It was a poor method of self-help to begin with, and given what Ian knows of the situation, anything even resembling romance should be off the table for a fairly long while.]

So... that's it, then? When your goal is achieved, you'll give up?

[Ian can't believe that for a second. He knows himself better than that. He knows that even if it's claimed he's run out of anger, that bubbling loathing for Aigaron will at least take more than this to fade.]

You know our partner wouldn't let me do something like that.

[Well, there's a heavy implication in his words that shouldn't have been entirely unexpected, considering current circumstances. Ian takes another sip of coffee and then returns the mug to the table, crossing his arms in front of his chest once his hands are free. At least he's got his head raised a little more, looking at his counterpart as he speaks.]

To exist in a world without him is bad enough. To drive the knife deeper, salt the wound... if this was a plot against me, I'd commend them for their efforts.

[He tilts his head to the side, heaving a heavy sigh.]

Distractions aren't enough when I already know the outcome. I'm playing a game I can't win.

There's little he could do to stop it.

[And that's something Ian's sure they both know; something they'be both considered in the past. Not entirely out of a desire to, but... he's not the kind of person who can help but consider every facet of a situation.

He would put his own cup down, but at this point it's something of a defensive shield. Coffee has always been a reliable way of allowing a topic to lapse, and Ian uses it now, taking a long sip and very obviously dropping that subject.]

What will you do, then? It's obvious that you can't continue like this. You've barely survived as it is.

[It's weird to talk about himself in this way, to skim over their issues like this. Especially when there's nothing Ian can actually do. He doesn't have the same ability to get through to himself that Shiro and Souji each posses; he doesn't even want to have the burden of being able to do that. He's not the type of person who is suited to this at all.]

As far as I can see, the only victory left for you is not giving the satisfaction of your defeat. How are you so sure there's no way for you to win?

He shouldn't have to go through it.

[If there's anyone he can still feel any semblance of compassion for, it's Parasagun. Yes, of course, his partner would survive. He'd survived losing the rest of his 'family' and to lose Ian would just be another mark, but it didn't feel fair to do something like that. Even if he hated himself and everything else in his life.

But, yeah, Ian's going to let that topic drop if his other self will.]

I know he was looking for me. I never intended to come back.

[Of course, the 'he' now is different from Parasagun. Ian moves to put one hand on the table, lightly drumming his fingers.]

There's no such thing as a happy ending for me, anymore. Once I achieve my goal, very little seems worthwhile.

[Ian's lips tighten at the admission of never intending to come back, but once again he raises his cup to hide it. Yes, he knows how hurt his other self is - can only begin to imagine the pain of his experiences - but the idea of deliberately choosing to not return, even knowing someone who held him dear was desperate to find him--]

You'd choose to make him go through what we have, then? Losing someone, without ever having the chance to even say goodbye.

[That will never sit right with Ian. His own pain be damned, making someone else - making Souji go through that...

He has to shake his head to clear the flare of anger, setting his cup down finally.]

Even if there's no happy end now, what difference does that make to before? It's not like there was one in sight before meeting all of them.

I never want to see him again.

[Even if it's a different version, one that most likely isn't completely crazy or going to stab him in the back, he doesn't want to deal with it. Once was bad enough. Twice was stupid. Three times would be insanity.]

He coped well enough. He never knew me. He existed because I left and because I left, he found you. [Another motion of his hand.] You should be thanking me, as long as he doesn't betray you.

[Ian notices that flare, but opts not to say anything, even though the look he's giving his counterpart makes it obvious he's noticed.]

I had hope, before. Somehow.

Even if that day comes...

[...What? Can he honestly say he would forgive a betrayal from the person he trusts the most?]

...He's a kid. It's foolish for either of us to rely on him as much as we do.

[Shut up and accept his inclusive present-tense, Ian. Reliability doesn't mean just for good things, and as much as Ian believes in Souji to stand strong by his side, he knows his other-self now relies on him - or his other selves - to be something entirely different from that.]

I won't thank you for the circumstances of his existence. As difficult as it was without him... If you think that any measure of someone else's pain is worth it to make things better for one of us, then you've lost sight of what we fight for.

[Nope, not accepting that. Don't you dare include him in this.]

I'm not relying on him.

[Speaking of flares of anger...]

Haa, aren't you?

[Look who's now staring you down. Want to argue with with him, Ian?]

Even with knowing the fundamental difference between all of them - aren't you relying on him to be the same as the others? You think of him and instead it's them, because you rely on him to be constant, no matter what that constant is.

Edited 2014-11-15 13:12 (UTC)

I don't trust anyone. I don't waste my thoughts on him.

[Yes, he's arguing, matching his own stubbornness.]

If you're bitten by the same snake twice, it's only natural to expect the third to act the same when it looks the same. Even if everything seems fine at first...

[And oh, now he's setting his jaw to get a clamp on that anger. At least he still has that emotion going for him.]

I was naive to believe anyone would measure up to him.

You don't waste thoughts on him, yet here you are. [Ian's eyes have narrowed, and the tilt of his jaw more than gives away his own anger even though he's keeping his tone steady.] Talking about snakes, your expectations - you've clearly thought about them a lot. Even what you've said, once bitten twice shy; doesn't that just further prove how you've already trusted him to be just like the others?

[And the distinction between Souji and them must be made clear. Ian's never had an opportunity to meet them, has never heard their stories - but he won't stand for Souji, his Souji, to be lumped in with anyone who has caused such pain. If there's one innocent person involved in any of this, then it's him.]

I'm the lucky one between us, I know that. I've had the opportunities you were never given. But you know that measuring him to Shiro - measuring anyone to Shiro - it won't work. You can't replace him.

He's not my boy. [And whether that was a slip or not, Ian looks pretty disgusted with himself for using that term again.] It's not my responsibility to think about him. He'll turn out like the others. Trust is too strong of a word to use with him, even if that's what I believe. It only bothers you because you don't want to accept it. You don't know what he's really like.

[He lowers his gaze, tapping on the table again.]

I've accepted no one else will compare to him. My happiness was ripped away from me every time I thought it might be within reach. My fate, my curse, is anger and sorrow. Life without him isn't worth living after all. That's what I've learned.

[There have been a few times in the past where Ian has wished - in that abstract way that people often do - that he could smack himself. Never has he felt that desire more strongly than now.]

Shiro would hate to hear you say that. [Ian knows that first-hand. Again, he's hyper-aware that he's the lucky one here - but even before getting to speak with Shiro again, some part of him had been aware of what he would have wanted.] Even if it's a life you live alone, you - we - owe it to him to make it a life worth living no matter what.

[His words are firm with conviction, if not a little cold. Because it's not just you you're living for, Ian. Your life has been paid for with Shiro's, and it's your duty to make sure his death doesn't become worthless.]

I'll accept that I might not know Souji [--it feels weird to use his name like this; Ian's never actually spoken his name to anyone else before--] as deeply as I want to. You're the one in the better position for that.

[His other self's gaze may be elsewhere, but that doesn't stop Ian from very deliberately trying to make eye contact.]

Considering the two of you come from the same place, I'm sure his motivations would be easy to be read once you spoke to him. What are you afraid of, then? That he'll be the boy he's supposed to be? That you'll have to admit you're wrong; that not every incarnation of him will be the same?

[Unsaid, of course, is the fear of the pain that meeting would doubtless bring. Ian's not an idiot; he's familiar with the burning dread, the terror, the salt in the wound that finally meeting a truly genuine Souji would cause.

But, sorry - he's also pissed off just enough to not care about treading over the subject terribly carefully.]

Even if it's not what Shiro wants to hear, I'm sure he'd understand.

[Of course, now Ian's back to frowning a bit while his other self continues speaking. He still has that horribly unamused, if not now a bit depressed, expression on his face.

Even if he hadn't realized it before, at least as far as consciously admitting it to himself, he knows that his other self has hit the issue on the head. Obviously, he'd never be able to hide things so easily. That fear of having to deal with whatever type of person Souji might be, whether the type he's used to or the type he'd always hoped for, neither one would be good. He'd rather not know at all, not deal with it, never have to see him again, because either way means at least numbing the pain rather than having to live with more of it.]

It's rare anyone here speaks to each other. After everything happened, it's really only happened once.

[Which... was fine for those two, he supposed, who had come out from it as badly as he had, but he hadn't been around for it.]

There's no point in speaking to him. The ones we share space with aren't enough to serve as more than temporary support. I'd rather not get involved in something that complicated.

'Shiro, I wasted the life I should have enjoyed for you. Instead of fighting to create a beautiful garden, I allowed weeds to choke anything that could have grown.' [Ian gives a moment for those bitter words to sink in, reaching out to wrap his hand around his still-warm cup. It's a soothing reminder to keep his anger in check, and he makes a conscious effort to tone down his distaste - though there's no concealing his scowl. It wasn't too long ago that he thought along those same lines, and even if he is frustrated with himself for having thought like that, it's no good to take that out on his other self.] Even if he understands, can you really be as selfish as that? Our lives were paid for with his; if you don't do everything you can to make it worthwhile, then you've failed him.

[He shakes his head, raising the cup to his lips for a much-needed taste of his coffee. He should have made it more bitter, but as it is the sharp taste goes a long way in grounding his mood.]

Even if you're determined to not let him close to you... Let him say goodbye. You know how it feels, to have your best friend torn from you so suddenly. You don't have to trust him to acknowledge what it is you've put him through.

Shiro didn't sacrifice his life for me. He didn't die in an honorable way so that I could continue living for him. He died with little ceremony, in a horribly unworthy way, because of my mistake. Shiro deserved better.

[There's that flare of anger again, especially present when it comes to Shiro, because Ian blames himself the most for that. Everything that has gone wrong has most likely been his fault in some way, he's convinced himself, because he wouldn't be abandoned twice if it wasn't. Shiro, however... Shiro wouldn't have left him. ... right?

So while Ian does his best to process everything, he knows that's who his heart reaches for even if he feels unworthy, because Shiro never had a chance to break his heart.]

I didn't put your boy through anything. There's no point in talking to him. He brought searching for me upon himself.

whoops my hand slipped // la la la la la (not) therapy

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