"Not fast enough," he says, giving his head one last shake, as the remnants of the tangles and locked pieces of hair broke free and exploded into their spring-shaped final form.

He made eye contact with himself in the mirror and groaned, affectionately.

"I guess if it doesn't bother you... it doesn't bother me, as much."

Alexei Ivanov

“Th-that makes it worse,” he says, a mixture of a sob and an exhale, pulling back enough to see Alex’s face, to show his own, redenned and wet and tear-stained. “That makes it worse because I can’t just-- you can’t properly be mad at me and I can’t-- I can’t just pretend it didn’t happen!”

Didn't Alex see? He had to beat himself up about it. Because no one else would, except maybe Kaida Adachi, but she wasn't here, was she? Not acknowledging it... felt like taking advantage, like one would of the blind or the deaf. It felt like abandonment. But it also hurt too much to put into words.

“I-- I don’t--,”

He sniffs, miserable.

I don’t know if I want to know is what he wants to say, but what comes out is, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me. What happened. If it’s too much.”

Like this had been.

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov

You don’t have to worry about any of that.

It’s true, he supposes. There are, obviously, steps that were skipped along the way, integral ones, that weren’t going to be skipped now. There was the warmth and safety of his own home. Nothing relied on this.

“It’s not…”

His eyes flick back to Alex’s face, and he softens his own expression, struggling to find the words.

“... that I don’t want to. I just don’t think I--,”

He squints, licks his dry lips.

“--I’m a bit broken, Alex.”

It comes out on a laugh.

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov

It’s a valid question. He runs a hand through his damp curls, running amok over his head.

“Right now it’s long enough to do stuff with. If I cut it off it would go through a long period of being short.”

He rolled his eyes and smiled because, yes, obviously, that was how hair worked.

“I’d look like a poorly shorn Wooloo.”

He was allowed his little (big) vanities.

Alexei Ivanov

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Alex could’ve personally pushed him into the death-beam reset-light and Memo would still love him.

“I said and did the most horrible things to you. I’m so sorry.”

He wanted to say he hadn't meant it, but he had. In that terrible world where he was stripped from his most basic self. All the hatred and negativity he’d been spewing had been personal and real.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He clings and rocks and cries. He can't be safe unless he forgives himself, and he doesn't and he never will.

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov

God, he hates this. why could ‘t they just do their normal stuff? so when they died tomorrow it was without this huge lump of awkward hanging over their heads?

oh, yeah, they could die tomorrow. why was he wasting precious time?

“i usually bottomed. or gave oral. it wasn’t pleasant. i never enjoyed it. but it got me money and food and shelter when i needed it, so. necessary evils.”

his eyes fall half lidded and he stares at a spot just over Alex’s shoulder, unfocused.

“you become accustomed to… rising above it.”

at least, he had.

[attr="class","mintag"] Alexei Ivanov

He grins, realizing he must’ve caught Remiel off guard. “It’s okay. We’ve all got one. Some of them are just worse than others.” Was there anyone in the world that loved their entire family?

A Slowpoke toddles along the sand, obliviously bumping into Memo’s leg; it sits on its rear, smiling at nothing. Memo zaps it with a Pokeball.

“Have you been to any other regions or is Hoenn your main squeeze?”

---

catch attempt slowpoke. water/flying/dragon

Remiel Calcifet

☉