[CLOSED] I'm sorry I'm hard to live with, living is the problem for me

[comparative_insanity]

Who: Fenn Forster and Youou Suwa (Fai D Flourite and Kurogane)
Where: Youou's flat
When: 23rd September, sometime in the evening
What: Youou gets Kurogane's temper back in an Echo. It's quite a lot of temper. A shame that a lot of that anger used to be focused on Fai...


He was actually trying to cook, because Youou looked so tortured when he blinked and said things like, Well, I've actually never made an omelette before... The kitchen was still in a bit of a mess after Youou had accidentally totaled it, but that was alright because then maybe it wouldn't be so very obvious how much of a mess he was making. His experiments at making pasta which did not glue itself to the bottom of the pot like some sort of pale and very sticky organism hadn't been without casualties. But at least he seemed to have something like a bowl full of perfectly reasonable pasta - if a bit overly slippery after an Olive Oil Incident - and a bowl of pasta sauce just as he heard Youou a the door.

Best way of greeting the boyfriend and showing off what he'd achieved? Obviously flinging a spaghetti strand at him from across the room so that it stuck on Youou's face.

"My mama always said if it sticks on something, it's done, so... I think it's done!"

Comments

[shut_up_idiot]

Youou has had a truly shitty day, in fact all his days have been kind of shitty ever since he'd seen that light again. No matter what he did, no matter how he truly felt there was always this feeling of anger buzzing just under his skin, straining to be let out. He's tried to get it out of his system by training and in the last couple of days he has been doing a more vigorous workout and run more laps than ever before, including his time in the military. It's worked a little bit, enough for him to be relatively civil to the people around him, but for every day he kept it locked away the stronger it seemed to get. And he doesn't know how to deal with it which confuses him even further. He's dealt with anger before, he'd had a bit of a temper when he was a teenager before he joined the military, but it doesn't seem to work this time. What's even worse is that he can't help the nagging feeling that the anger isn't even his, because it's like nothing he's ever felt before and he's pretty good at being in tune with his feelings. This anger is way too harsh and violent to be anything he can feel comfortable with. And the worse thing of all is that the anger seem to focus on Fay whenever they're together.

So when he comes home to find Fay in the kitchen cooking and ends up with a spaghetti strand stuck to his face what he wants to do is to follow the swell of pride in his chest and just fling the damn straw back with a smile and a teasing comment. But instead he has to push back the impulse to shout at him in rage and possibly threaten him with violence. And for such a stupid thing too. In the end one the only thing he can do is to forcibly reel the hot anger in and send a tired look at his enthusiastic boyfriend as he removes the sticky strand from his face .

"Seriously?"

[comparative_insanity]

Fay had to be honest been expecting... well, a joke, some teasing, for Youou to throw the spaghetti right back at him. At the very least, if he actually did say, 'Seriously?', for it to be accompanied with the usual humor and eye-roll reserved for whenever his boyfriend was 'barking' or whatever the hell British people called it.

He hadn't expected that. Youou looked tired and strained and annoyed, and not in the least impressed with Fay's silliness. He deflated a bit, the grin wavering rather heavily before he managed to force it to stay where it was.

"Well, maybe the spaghetti-test wasn't made for people as such, but... I can pay you back with delicious dinner? So wipe that grumpy look away, won't you love, and lets have a picnic on the floor like civilized people~."

[shut_up_idiot]

He winced when he saw Fay's face fall a bit when he failed to live up to the expected reaction, a reaction that Fay fully deserved, and tries even harder to push the anger down. It really wasn't fair to Fay, the way he was acting and trying to convince himself that at least it was better than the alternative wasn't really helping. Basically he felt like an utter prick. Which of course didn't manage to stop him from snapping slightly at the word Fay had chosen to use. "I'm not grumpy! I'm just a bit tired dammit."

He wished that he could just go to Fay and wrap him arms around him, and let the fact that he was home and with him seep into him and ease any troubled feelings he might have. But he couldn't, it felt like too much of a risk even though he couldn't think why. Him snapping would make just as much impact from a bit of a distance as if they were close, wouldn't it?

Taking a deep breath he walked closer, hoping that despite his apprehension getting closer is going to do more good than harm. "What are you making?"

[comparative_insanity]

Most of the time it was hard to stop counting all the ways Youou was just perfect nowadays, and Fay felt like he was walking around in some kind of romantic movie, sans script but nonetheless deliriously happy. To suddenly be snapped out of this feeling by snappishness and none of the usual patience was a little bit like getting a bucket full of ice-cold water flung in his face. He felt his own temper suddenly twanging dangerously, and he found himself wanting to snap back because fuck that, he'd actually made an effort to cook, and this was what he got? But he bit it down. It wasn't fair, it really wasn't fair, to expect of Youou to constantly be the perfect man, the perfect dream. Everyone had bad days, after all. It wasn't Youou's fault that this happened to be one of them.

So instead he stepped closer, reaching out his hand to the other man in an attempt at a truce. "Hey, sugar, it's alright. Sorry about the spaghetti thing, it was dumb, alright?" He tried to keep his voice soft and gentle, taking Youou's right hand in his own. "It's just pasta and sauce, but it ain't too bad if you close your eyes and whistle, like my mama used to say. Why don't we just sit down and eat, right, Kuro-tan?"

[shut_up_idiot]

For a moment the soothing voice and the soft touches seemed to be working just like he had desperately hoped it would and he felt himself starting to relax. And when Fay took his hand there were even a the tiniest bit of a smile forming on his lips. In the end, maybe that was the problem, because when the nickname - that he himself has grown rather fond of since he first heard them - caused the anger still simmering inside of him to burst into burning fury it took him so much by surprise he didn't even have a chance to try and temper it.

"Don't call me that!" The roar felt almost impossibly loud as is rang in his ears and inside, behind the flaring anger, he balked at the sound of it. And then suddenly there was a fist, his fist, flying through the air perfectly aimed at Fay's face with a frightening speed and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

[comparative_insanity]

He'd relaxed a bit too, starting to smile in response to that small twitch of Youou's lips, the way the other man seemed to soften at the attention and the placating tone. It was all going to be fine, it had just been a moment of tension, nothing to be worried about. Probably caused by that damn weird buzzing which didn't seem to be going away at all. Anyone could have a bad da-

And then suddenly, there was a fist coming toward his face. Fay's reflexes were superior to Youou's, certainly, but it was the last thing in the world that he'd expected. Once his brain had actually managed to accept that this was a thing that was actually happening, it was too late; there was nothing he could do to avoid it. He backed a little bit, face locked in a stunned mask, his hands going up to shield his face. But they moved slowly and tremulously, as if he'd completely forgotten that he was much stronger than the other man nowadays, as if he wasn't quite able to grow claws that could slice off the tendons in Youou's arm.

He made no sound, none at all, except for the scrape when his breath caught in terror.

[shut_up_idiot]

For a moment time seemed to pass in slow motion as he saw Fay freeze and he knew without a doubt that his fist was going to hit its target. And he couldn't allow that to happen. Fortunately the raging fury that burned inside of him seemed to agree, as if whatever that part of him wanted to achieve causing actual damage wasn't part of it. Eyes wide with horror and fear he managed to change his direction enough so that when the fist hit it crashed into the wall just centimeters left of Fay's face instead.

For a moment afterwards Youou just stood there, motionless, his breathing coming out in short, shaky bursts, his face a frozen mask of horror. His eyes kept moving from Fay's face to his own fist, still embedded in the wall barely daring to think about the damage he might have done if he had actually hit him and a deep feeling of self loathing building up within him. He didn't deserve this, not after this. He shouldn't be here anymore.

"I-" His voice broke and he looked away, too full of shame and self disgust to meet his eyes anymore. "I have to go."

He moved quickly, more quickly than he'd ever moved before or at least that was how it felt, only slowing down briefly to get his shoes on. He paused by the door, his hand on the handle, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry." And then he was out of there, not waiting to hear what Fay might say in return, rushing blindly into the night with the panic rising in his throat like bile.

[comparative_insanity]

It all happened too fast. Suddenly there was a fist slamming against the wall he'd managed to back into, making him jump and then wince in sympathy because that must've hurt. And then he realized with a sickly sinking feeling how much that would've hurt him if it had hit, and he feels a sudden spark of anger catch on something and start to burn. What the hell did Youou think he was doing? If he really thought raising his hand to Fay was going to fly he had another think comi-

And then Youou was backing away and out of the door before Fay could so much as start to cuss him out. Feeling weak and nauseous, he stumbled until he could lean on the kitchen counter, fighting the sudden urge to be sick. He'd been afraid of Youou for a moment there. That wasn't right. He knew it wasn't right. He should be packing his bags and leaving, he really should, except...

...except Youou hadn't begged him to stay, or claimed it was a mistake, or made any kind of flimsy excuse for himself. That simple fact shone in Fay's brain like a firebrand, and in the end that was reason enough to stay. Youou was a good man, and he was the person Fay loved more than anyone else in the world. If he'd tried to make excuses, perhaps he wouldn't have been worth a second chance, but as it was...

Fay wasn't going to walk out on the love of his life without a fight.

So he stayed, too distressed to think about checking the network, passing out in the couch eventually that night. When Youou finally came back, Fay had decided that he was going to keep himself busy to avoid jumping at every little sound, and was pulling a tray of slightly wonky and a little bit burnt muffins out of the ovens. He put the tray down with a clatter and rushed out, pulling Youou - who notably smelled of alcohol, which wasn't good - into an embrace without a word. He stubbornly held on to him for quite a while before finally speaking.

"Lets go into the kitchen and talk about this, alright?"

[shut_up_idiot]

He'd been dragging his feet about the subject of going home, instead spending the day listlessly on his sisters couch, staring at nothing in particular while nursing his hangover. His sister had been suitable worried and sympathetic in the morning but as the day begun to cross over into evening she finally had enough and told him in so uncertain terms to just take it like a goddamn man and go home. She had then ushered him out of her apartment, not even letting his shower first because as she said, he should have thought of that earlier then because she knew a stall tactic when she saw it. Instead she had driven him home, partly because she still worried about him and partly because she didn't want to risk him making any stupid detours on the way. Like a bar. And as annoying as it was to have her boss him around like that, it was also comforting enough to ensure that Youou would follow her without any real attempt at protesting.

Still, he lingered a moment outside of the door, steeling himself for the cold and empty apartment he was sure to find inside. At the very best Fay might still be there, wanting to talk about what had happened, before their inevitable separation. But there was no doubt in his mind that last night had been the end of them, and he only had himself to blame. He had messed up the best thing he had ever had, and as much as he would like to blame it all on the pulses or whatever in the end it had still been his responsibility to be able to hold back. And in the end, he was the one who had failed.

So when he finally managed to gather up enough strength to unlock the door and walk inside and instead of the expected silence found the smell of baking he didn't really know what to make of it. And when, a moment later, Fay came hurrying out of the kitchen and into his arms Youou was so confused he didn't even have room enough in him to be relieved. But no confusion in the world could stop him from bringing his arms around Fay and holding him close, his grip tight in desperation, the rest of the world falling away like static. Then Fay's words broke through and with them everything else came flooding in as well, and he stiffened, his arms falling away to his sides as he tried to step back, out of the embrace, and he looked down at Fay, confusion clearly written on his face.

"You're still here?"

[comparative_insanity]

Fay wasn't going to let Youou back out just like that, and so he followed, his hands sliding along the other man's shoulders and neck so that he could cradle his face. He looked into dark eyes haunted by guilt and self-loathing, but not so much as a hint of self-pity, and knew that his hunch had been right. He also noted that Youou's eyes didn't have any of that glazed-over look or contracted pupils that would suggest he was still drunk, nor was there any slur in his voice when he spoke. Just as well, really, because while Fay wasn't inclined to leave just yet, nor did he have the patience to deal with Youou being drunk right now. Not without being severely tempted to slap him across the face.

As it was, he finally let go of Youou, but only momentarily, and soon he hand Youou's hand in his and was tugging him toward the kitchen. "I'm still here, and I ain't leaving. We're having tea right now - well, at least I am - and we're going to talk about this, okay? Because while I ain't planning to go anywhere, nor am I putting up with that kind of shit from you ever again, okay? So. Make me some damn tea and lets talk."