(no subject)

[psychopath]

Who: jack (psychopath) and jill (iudex)
When: december 10th, afternoon
Where: baseball diamond and onwards
Summary: loss of tiny dignities, jack being shot because he's an ass, gross sobbing
Warnings: some blood

[oh, this is familiar. The ground and walls are familiar, earth and stone, and jack is no stranger to sitting down in hidden places, blending in with the crowd.

he'd been hurt worse, but this is compounded by the fact that it's the same shoulder that got hurt before, and jack curls up in his jacket miserably. It's cold, but he feels colder, because he'd lost vincent. hello, regret, my old friend, he thinks.

oswald will have to do some searching to find the alcove he's in. jack almost hopes he doesn't find him.]

Comments

fahsgdjdja no :<

[psychopath]

[INTERNAL KEYSMASH WTF ummm that's a rude thing to say to your bf

Unless he meant it in a good way


BUT WITH OSWALD ONE CAN NEVER TELL...]

I hope you meant that in a good way. [he sniffs, haughtily, tossing his head and biting Oswald's sleeved shoulder sort of like the way a puppy first tries out its fangs.]. I'm perfect. [but he hides his face in the other man's shoulder anyway, mumbling and flushed.]

hehe i believe you

[iudex]

[no he meant it in the way jack first thought he meant it. how does one's skin crawl pleasantly... oswald hasn't had this experience and doubts he ever will.

instead of quipping though, he glances behind him and blinks at the bite of his arrogant puppy prince. the differences and similarities between this man and the man he remembers are vast still. and then jack hides his face, and even though oswald's a practical man he still feels a warm rush of affection plunge into his unsuspecting gut and coil.

perfect isn't even close to what jack is, but oswald knows that just for him, a half to his whole, jack is 'perfect'.

there's silence for a moment before, quietly, gently, something like a whisper solely for jack, as if the words are still new to him:] ...I love you as you are.

[psychotic episodes and all, even if he's in a perpetual state of judging. he'll only say it every once in a while, but it's there as it is. he goes and brings jack's hand to his lips, blood a small matter no matter where it may be in this exact second, and kisses it. sweet possessive overbearing prince of his u_u]

oh my god what is that tag flies into the sun

[psychopath]

[his hand tingles, it's weird. there has been no tingling with other people, not in the near-decade he's spent trying to find lacie, not in all his years of winding and rewinding, there was no tingling.

tingles!! and butterflies in his stomach!! he thinks, for a moment, is this what alois feels whenever ciel actually acts like he has a heart is capable of being affectionate? why is he thinking of advice a seventeen-year-old has given him?

why....can he actually not form words at such a simple gesture? jack's mouth opens and closes and this is overwhelming, oswald has zero idea how much this means to him, little things. acceptance, affection without payment, and it's so out of character for oswald to say anything like that that it hits jack out of left field.

so he just leans up, up, up on his toes and tries to steal a chaste kiss because you are an unfair person, oswald. unfair.]

2corny2deal

[iudex]

[it's hard being an unfair person. jack'd know that best, wouldn't he? he's knocked jack speechless and almost feels a little proud - but, there's intrigue as he takes in his eyes, his face, his bloody shoulder—

oswald lets him steal his kiss, pliant and unaware of jack's case of the tingles and butterflies, brushing his lips down in way of kissing back. he's perfectly fine with this - will always be - but he's getting worried about that shoulder. thankfully his moral compass and brain aren't so torn that they'd mix his priorities up; he wants for a moment, but if he always got what he wanted he'd be a brat spoiled rotten.

fortunately, he's a mature what-the-hell-ever-year-old man.

it's why he eventually steps back again to start leading him back on track towards the manor he knows jack thinks of so fondly as 'home', hand-in-hand.]

[psychopath]

[he follows, obediently, and frankly, he's still a little dazed by the whole thing, so he's curiously silent and his grip is curiously twitchy, with his thumb constantly rubbing over Oswald's skin like he's a little afraid of losing him.]

Did that cloak that I gave you fit properly?

[iudex]

[it's good that jack is obediently following him. it might be a small change from the usual, but when he's got one gold wing in hand it's a little hard not to follow. the thumb rubbing over his skin the way it is is a bit concerning, the twitchiness doubly so, and oswald squeezes his hand gently but doesn't open his mouth in time to let out a question before jack does.

the cloak? —the one he's hung up for later use? his steps pause and he looks at jack, momentarily curious.]

...it did. [and then, sincere and fluidly warm:] Thank you, Jack.

[because it never struck him until now to say 'thank you' (because he wasn't sure and jack is flighty) seeing as he knows for sure. there could be no one else. he could tell him the red could be lighter - more wet blood than dry - but it suits him just fine and he doesn't actually mind.

oswald threw glen's cloak into the flames when he found he couldn't salvage it, after all.]