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Toronto, Late, Late Night, Saturday-into-Sunday
It was so late at night by the time Sparkle got back from his usual Coruscant trip that it might as well have been the next day. It was dark, so dark, except for the stars and the moon overhead and the yellow-white glow of the streetlights filtering into the backyard, where, at a glance, Sparkle could see Lewis out on the park bench, having a cigarette. His breath caught for a moment, seeing him there. And then he nodded a little, making up his mind.
"And you are the guy chopping wood in the New Brunswick forest..."
He had a robe he'd been saving for an occasion like this, for wearing when it was night and the lighting was perfect and everybody was asleep and Lewis was somewhere alone. He'd know, after this, one way or another, if Lewis had actually been looking at him the way Sparkle was almost certain he'd seen him looking, or if he was just a crazy, stupid kid who was, as Lewis had said before, just seeing what he wanted to see.
"And you have been working so hard all day for your family, because you are cutting wood to last the whole winter, and your back is aching, and your hands are cold and you are hungry, and you know there is a Russian ship in the harbour."
Lewis didn't look up. Didn't turn around, didn't so much as react as Sparkle reached forward from behind, to rest his hands lightly on Lew's shoulders. But Lewis knew this tone of voice, knew what Sparkle was doing. It was just like every other time, wasn't it? Every time that Sparkle said something or got close and Lewis let him keep going, even looked like he was encouraging it until some switch flipped in his brain and he shut it down...?
"You've heard stories about the sailors looking for prostitutes in Moncton," he pressed on, a little breathless, encouraged by the silence and the darkness and the cold blades of grass between his bare toes. "And there is a noise and you get your gun because you think it might be a deer and you were hoping to bring home a deer, but it is a young man. A young man with dark hair and luminous green eyes and he is naked."
Still, Lewis didn't speak. Sparkle licked his lips as the man lifted his cigarette up to his his mouth and took a long, slow drag from it.
"He... says something beautiful in Russian and although you don't understand it, it brings tears to your eyes, and a warmth fills your body. And suddenly the air is warm, like spring, like a chinook and it flows from the young man to you and he is looking at you..." Sparkle watched Lewis' breath in the air as he exhaled his smoke, and then let his cigarette start to burn down on its own, his hand lowering to his side to rest on the bench. "And he is naked. He walks towards you and you do not move..." Give him something to work with, Lewis. Sparkle was narrating what he was doing now, walking around the bench to look at the older man face-on. "You look into his green eyes like the sea and he strokes your head."
Lewis didn't move as Sparkle's hand stroked his hair, but Sparkle saw his eyes flick up to look at him in the faint light of the backyard.
"He runs his hands over your face and you kiss his hands. And he kneels beside you and he touches your chest softly and he leans down and kisses you on the lips..." It didn't even matter that this part of the story wasn't completely consistent with the start, that his narration of Lewis was standing with a gun. This wasn't them, there in the woods, this was the two of them here and now and the story was reflecting that and Sparkle was reaching his other hand up to Lew's chest and leaning in now, a little closer. "You become..."
"Stop."
The first word Lewis had said to him tonight. Hell, the first word Lewis had said to him in days, since that whole thing with the petition and the yelling those old bitches out the door and Sparkle paused for a moment. Leaned back a bit to try to make out the look on Lew's face in the dark. Too much...? Was it too much...?
He dialed himself back a little. Leaned away some, to give Lewis a little of his breathing room back.
"You haven't kissed like this for years and years," he said, tentatively. "Your tongues encircling your teeth clashing, it's as if you dived into the rough green sea together, but there is no danger of drowning. He is--"
A movement from Lewis, finally. And it felt like Sparkle's chest had been ripped open when that movement consisted only of Lewis throwing down his cigarette and standing to walk away.
No more answers than there had been before, then. No fewer questions. And Sparkle watched him disappear back into the house before turning his head away and staring down at the still-glowing embers of Lew's mostly-finished smoke until they faded and went dark, and Sparkle was just left sitting lost on the lawn.
[OOC: No, really, that canon chunk is meant to be super uncomfortable and Thompson HIT THAT OUT OF THE PARK. Oh god, Sparkle, no. Stop. Establishy, unless you have someone who's going to visit or call at this hour?]
"And you are the guy chopping wood in the New Brunswick forest..."
He had a robe he'd been saving for an occasion like this, for wearing when it was night and the lighting was perfect and everybody was asleep and Lewis was somewhere alone. He'd know, after this, one way or another, if Lewis had actually been looking at him the way Sparkle was almost certain he'd seen him looking, or if he was just a crazy, stupid kid who was, as Lewis had said before, just seeing what he wanted to see.
"And you have been working so hard all day for your family, because you are cutting wood to last the whole winter, and your back is aching, and your hands are cold and you are hungry, and you know there is a Russian ship in the harbour."
Lewis didn't look up. Didn't turn around, didn't so much as react as Sparkle reached forward from behind, to rest his hands lightly on Lew's shoulders. But Lewis knew this tone of voice, knew what Sparkle was doing. It was just like every other time, wasn't it? Every time that Sparkle said something or got close and Lewis let him keep going, even looked like he was encouraging it until some switch flipped in his brain and he shut it down...?
"You've heard stories about the sailors looking for prostitutes in Moncton," he pressed on, a little breathless, encouraged by the silence and the darkness and the cold blades of grass between his bare toes. "And there is a noise and you get your gun because you think it might be a deer and you were hoping to bring home a deer, but it is a young man. A young man with dark hair and luminous green eyes and he is naked."
Still, Lewis didn't speak. Sparkle licked his lips as the man lifted his cigarette up to his his mouth and took a long, slow drag from it.
"He... says something beautiful in Russian and although you don't understand it, it brings tears to your eyes, and a warmth fills your body. And suddenly the air is warm, like spring, like a chinook and it flows from the young man to you and he is looking at you..." Sparkle watched Lewis' breath in the air as he exhaled his smoke, and then let his cigarette start to burn down on its own, his hand lowering to his side to rest on the bench. "And he is naked. He walks towards you and you do not move..." Give him something to work with, Lewis. Sparkle was narrating what he was doing now, walking around the bench to look at the older man face-on. "You look into his green eyes like the sea and he strokes your head."
Lewis didn't move as Sparkle's hand stroked his hair, but Sparkle saw his eyes flick up to look at him in the faint light of the backyard.
"He runs his hands over your face and you kiss his hands. And he kneels beside you and he touches your chest softly and he leans down and kisses you on the lips..." It didn't even matter that this part of the story wasn't completely consistent with the start, that his narration of Lewis was standing with a gun. This wasn't them, there in the woods, this was the two of them here and now and the story was reflecting that and Sparkle was reaching his other hand up to Lew's chest and leaning in now, a little closer. "You become..."
"Stop."
The first word Lewis had said to him tonight. Hell, the first word Lewis had said to him in days, since that whole thing with the petition and the yelling those old bitches out the door and Sparkle paused for a moment. Leaned back a bit to try to make out the look on Lew's face in the dark. Too much...? Was it too much...?
He dialed himself back a little. Leaned away some, to give Lewis a little of his breathing room back.
"You haven't kissed like this for years and years," he said, tentatively. "Your tongues encircling your teeth clashing, it's as if you dived into the rough green sea together, but there is no danger of drowning. He is--"
A movement from Lewis, finally. And it felt like Sparkle's chest had been ripped open when that movement consisted only of Lewis throwing down his cigarette and standing to walk away.
No more answers than there had been before, then. No fewer questions. And Sparkle watched him disappear back into the house before turning his head away and staring down at the still-glowing embers of Lew's mostly-finished smoke until they faded and went dark, and Sparkle was just left sitting lost on the lawn.
[OOC: No, really, that canon chunk is meant to be super uncomfortable and Thompson HIT THAT OUT OF THE PARK. Oh god, Sparkle, no. Stop. Establishy, unless you have someone who's going to visit or call at this hour?]
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Newest Sailor V game dropped today, blowing off school to spend the day at the arcade. REDOING JUNIOR HIGH SUCKS.
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It was a good thing Raine slept like the dead. He REALLY didn't want to have to explain what he'd been up to, or why there was a hysterically cackling Japanese girl on his phone.
A few more minutes, and he texted back.
Repeating high school isn't all that great either. The game good, at least?
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Her pain, Sparks. FEEL IT.
Worse I still have to take math. I haven't had a math class in years! And pretend my English sucks MY ENGLISH IS FINE I LIVED WITH AMERICANS FOR, LIKE, THREE YEARS. I mean, OK, American English is TERRIBLE, but you totally understand me, yeah? Canadian English isn't quite as brutalized as American English.
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Depends. I don't think I've ever listened to see if you're pronouncing all of your U's in every word... I've just been skipping math class.
He shouldn't. He knew that. He hated it and everything was on fire anyway and why the hell should he go to a class that hurt his brain when it was all their children in class with him and they looked at him like...
Like he was exactly as fucked up as he was. Like they could see him in there, and they knew they were better.
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Wait a second.
Isn't it, like, double-plus midnight there? Did I wake you up? Go back to bed, baka.
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This was also the shittiest owl-noon ever. Sparkle would rather be back on the Zin ship with his brain plugged in, amusing himself by changing his clothes with his thoughts.
Anyway, who actually uses math besides scientists, accountants, and math teachers?
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He was going to ride this random bout of something-something into the ground if you let him, Minako.
And I defy your 'algebras.' DEFY THEM.
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The Math cannot be denied, Sparkle. Oh no. It cannot.
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...
Think you could find time to do my math homework too?
It was worth a shot.
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Please hold, Sparkle, while Minako stares at that text.
WHAT IS GOING ON IN CANADA? NO I DO NOT KIDNAP PEOPLE I'M VENUSIAN OR WAS VENUSIAN OR WHATEVER IT WAS HOT BUT CLOTHING WAS OPTIONAL THERE NOT STOLEN WHAT THE HELL, SPARKLE????!?!?!?!?!?
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Back in Canada and wondering what the hell he'd been thinking, going back to the island.
And knowing all too well exactly why.
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But now I'm sad you visit Fandom and not me. I feel bereft. Unloved. Overworked and unappreciated and now I'm not going to send you a copy of the Sailor V game.
She was still going to send him the game. Signed by Sailor V, even, since Minako couldn't take credit.
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So, there was that.
I don't even need tattoos to freak people out but over there it's like I'd be going the extra mile.
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It really, really was.
And anyone who gets freaked out by you is a moron. You're a big marshmallow on the inside and don't even try to deny it.
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... Okay, but can I at least be a good flavour of marshmallow? There are a lot of morons in this neighbourhood.
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A lot of stuff. A whole lot of really shitty stuff.
Old people, right?
And rich people. And... just... people.
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How long have you guys been friends? Seriously.
Do I need to come over and hug you more? You aren't possessed, right? I do hugs even without possession.
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Just stupid. Extremely stupid. Yeah. That.
Long trip just for hugs, anyway.
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You tell me not to come and I won't, but I can take a weekend away from being a superhero for my friend.
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We've got a full house. You'd be crashing on a floor or something. But thanks.
He was aiming for bonus points on that avoidance, apparently.
Lew might lose the house. We're figuring it out.
Which was sort of half-true, anyway.
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It totally looked like she was studying, when she piled them all on the table.
Is everyone OK? Did someone get hurt or have an accident? What's going on?
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Which had been far less likely to happen before they had started on their crusade to leave the troubled teens homeless, oddly enough.
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That was... not exactly why the neighbourhood was freaked out by them being there, but the murder thing had actually legitimately been said, so it wasn't like it was a stretch from there to skinning and roasting ol' Fluffy out on a spit in the backyard.
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...not, like, kick-kick. But I am not above deploying the blonde and the smile and the big blue eyes for Great Justice.
...maybe kick-kick shhhhhhhhhhh.
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Like, look, Sparkle wasn't into girls AT ALL but even he knew the might and wonder of Minako's legs.
I dunno... two weeks from now? Fandom time, not yours or mine, since it's a handy common denominator or whatever... Gives time for stuff to cool down and me to figure out where you'd sleep.
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I can always stay at a hotel if there's no space! I don't want to make anyone squished! But I can totally bring my own pillow and don't mind the floor.
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And god, was he ever in no hurry at all to talk to Lew again.
But it's good to know there are options, right?