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HOUSE #1470
mayo ✧ little shit ✧ loving daughter

"You've reached Carol Danvers, aka Captain Marvel. I'm not here, leave a message!

If it's urgent... uh. Leave it urgently."

speed dial
steve
sakamoto
gremlin

( call | text | voicemail | mail | action )

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I'm a f-fucking i-idiot, I --

[he's so excruciatingly angry that he can't squeeze any more words out for a few long minutes, all that black bile constricting his throat, shrinking his belly]

[(he doesn't have the stomach for this)]

I told the wr-wrong person, he f-fucking -- [snorted, like he'd said something amusing, like he hadn't just felt his heart tumble out of his throat and into a stranger's hands] -- he ain't wrong, he ain't fuckin'... I'm suh-such a fucking idiot --

[he's got jackall.]

[he doesn't reach for her. he doesn't cry. he hunches his body over his knees, bandaged hands digging into fresh cuts, and wishes he could stop hating long enough to breathe. he wishes he had a fucking cigarette, but the thought makes his ribs crunch together like a fucking trash compactor (trash belongs in the incinerator; no wonder he's burning)]

[but he doesn't tell her to fuck off. he doesn't tell her to leave]

[it's not weakness or kindness; an animal doesn't care who watches it struggle when it feels like its minutes are running out]

[he's just a kid, she thinks as she watches him, keeping that careful distance even though it's making her ribs ache and her teeth clench pitifully together.

he's just a kid.

why does this have to happen to him?]

Tell me what you need me to do.

[tell her that there's anything she can do. carol doesn't cry, she doesn't ever cry when there's still a way to pick the pieces up again, but she feels now like she could. like she could cry fucking buckets for this dumb kid with this awful life.]

[and for the first time, Badou seems to truly register that it's Carol beside him, not a danger to flinch from or a human to shy from]

[the question is awful. he wants to hit her, give her such a bruise in one eye that it closes up, so she can't see, so she can't think. he wants to yell at her, tell her to leave him the fuck alone because he hates the idea of having a family that isn't up in the light when there's a family that could be dying in the dark]

[but none of this is her fault, it's his (and his, too), and he's too angry to even begin to tell her what to do; if he were able to tell anyone what to do, maybe there wouldn't be so much glass on the floor (he's losing control over it; he always needed someone to ground those too-rough feelings)]

[in the end, he can only shake his head a few times, and then give a crooked, helpless shrug, one side of his mouth curving up into the least comical smile imaginable]

[i have no idea, either]

[she feels helpless here, and it makes her irrationally angry -- anger turned inwards, picking apart her stomach like some carrion bird on a dead thing. if only there was something here to hit, something to blast out of the sky or pitch into the sun, she could do any damn good for him.

but this is something carol doesn't know how to handle. she doesn't know how to fight this kid's despair.

so she scrambles for something, anything, and finds it when her eyes finally fall on the red patch that's bloomed on badou's pyjamas. there's a couch in the corner that's a lot safer than here.

she swallows away the dryness in her throat.]

...Well you can't stay down here. You'll hurt yourself. Come on.

[the reflex kicks in before she can stop it, and carol finds herself reaching out to him -- but no. the hand falters and drops again, and she feels lost.]

[rolls his eye, cheek stuffed, and talks around the chips]

The Ghostbusters movies ain't Bill Murray's best ever. They're really funny, but they ain't that great. [a brief doritos genocide] -- That's just what shitheads who want people ta think they know shit about shit say. Stripes is his best movie ever.

[his hands are stained orange, now (it's a nice change from red), and he wipes them on his jeans]

I wanna look at the rocks over there.

[he isn't asking permission -- he gets up, the bag falling from his lap as if it hadn't been the most important thing in his life about five minutes ago]

[a few doritos fall out, get taken by the sea (hope the fish are hungry for junkfood tonight)]

[and he takes off towards the small jetty, intent to climb and slip and scrape his knees a neon sign above him]

[before Carol can retract that hand all the way, Badou's own snaps out, fingers sinking into her forearm like jaws of a dog, too sudden and too hard (like that night on the beach, when the waves had tried to pull him under; but the nothing he's staring down tonight is not the wide, empty sea). the nerves in his hand obey not because he makes them -- young, hot blood has been in control for some time now]

[he is reaching, he is trying, but there's no contact there that doesn't want to be vicious yet. he connects without connecting, he bumps blindly around in the dark (in the fucking dark)]

[it's hard to say if she helps him up, or he uses her like an inanimate object to stand (those sneakers, the ones from Hijikata, they're barely a week old; but they're already stained and cut up, crunching over the glass)]

[her words aren't responded to -- if they're even heard, that is (can't, down, hurt, come on, it's starting to become a broken record)]

[ some time between It's-Late and God-Awful-In-The-Morning, a text is received: ]

do U kno the answer 2 the universe

Depends on what you think the question is

for most people its always the same
why r we here
whats the meaning of lyfe

Sakamoto's late-night philosophy hour huh

[but she gives it all due thought]

I don't know why we're here.
And I don't think it matters as much as the fact that we ARE.

Edited 2013-07-18 10:03 (UTC)

[ he's had a little too much to drink, or so he'd like to say

the sad truth is, he hasn't been this sober for so long in months ]

nice 1 nice 1
u should write a column in the paper i feel blown out of the water

but u know what the real secret is??/

What?

there is no real answer

Deep.
Things'd be too cut and dried if there were, anyway
Too boring

im happy u agree
tell me about urself

What do you want to know?
I'm not telling you my measurements if that's what you're fishing for

measurements r fine 2
but i want to know about you
what goes on behind the gorilla??

Well for starters the gorilla likes to mortally wound people who call her a gorilla

yes maam understood maam

The rest is not all that interesting.

[a pause, then--]

I like to fly

[ a pause, thirty seconds long ]

howso

Any way I can. Any way there is.

Edited 2013-07-18 10:42 (UTC)

why

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