[the voice startles him, and the look over is raw with—something.
hiruma stares hard at jesse for the longest goddamn moment, chest heaving, before quaking fingers curl and he drops the fist to his side. if there's one thing he can't stand, it's showing weakness; getting himself compromised by emotion, even if it is cold, cold fury, is just pathetic. there's no room for it, not for him.
but that's not what bother him the most.
had he heard?
hiruma steels himself, and that takes a colossal amount of effort.
no, that's impossible from what he's come in and said, there's no way. hiruma doesn't know how many people jesse knows who "left for home", but the number is bound to be up there. he met him at his eleventh month here. by now, it's probably almost the guy's—]
You've nearly been here a year...
[the voice is as stable as he can get it, but it still comes out hoarse.]
[ He furrows his brow and drifts from the doorway into the room. On second thought, he closes it behind him-- what was careful concern is more obvious now, his expressions betraying him... just about almost always. ]
Why?
[ Hiruma's trying to calm himself down from a fit, or something close to it. It's obvious, but Jesse's not gonna point that shit out or highlight it in red. If Hiruma wants to talk, or wants to tell him to fuck off, he'll do one or the other. He has complete confidence in the guy's ability to express himself. ]
hiruma doesn't know why he asked it. maybe it's to ascertain that they share a long track record away from home, caught up somewhere they don't wanna' be; misery loves company. he wants to be alone, but he's learned that that's not always what's best for him. especially in a place like this.
that doesn't mean the talking comes naturally. or at all for that matter, obvious in the defensive curve of stiff shoulders.
the silence is heavy, but it isn't awkward, at least not for him (he's always the one causing them; he's used to it). he's still thinking over sobering news, and the fact that his amped up nerves need to settle immediately. hiruma's breaths block up, his body stilling, and he turns his attention back to jesse.
why the guy's in here is confusing—just what's the motive here? the concern is blatant, and hiruma's sure it would be even if it wasn't him looking. but perceptive or not, the fact that there is concern is odd. people are fucking odd. this place is fucking odd.
he thinks of kurita, and startles himself into speaking to fill the void.]
Gotta' know which fucking day to avoid celebratin', right?
That heavy, incredibly long stretch of silence there certainly makes Jesse feel weird. Especially given: Hiruma's body language, the slow-fading shock (is it shock? or something else) on his face, the fact that he punched... a wall...
He has a vague sense of waiting to be snapped at. This is the exact right mix for that, it is. He keeps his distance without losing the concern, because he can't. A month to the year. What's it matter? ]
Uh, I guess, [ he draaawls... and he hasn't been told to leave yet, so Jesse shuffles in a bit closer. He hasn't been told anything substantial either and fishes for the right words to draw it out. Or maybe just the right tone: ] You feelin' okay?
[ Sometimes Haven messes with their heads, in a big way. Is that what this is? If it is, he'll need someone watching over him. ]
[comes the immediate reply, an abrasive snap to keep distance between them as his face turns from jesse. eye contact now would just give him away, so he searches the cots along the wall with a sharp scoff. he's strong-armed people away before, and hiruma knows exactly what he's doing and why he's doing it to the guy with all that concern.
don't worry over me, you idiot.
did you know? did you know that everyone who's "gone home" hasn't? did you know they're just shoved into a freezer somewhere? did you know that? because if you knew that, you wouldn't be here talking to me right now, no—if i told you right now, i wonder what exactly you would do. would you punch a wall? yell, cry, lash out, break?
focus on yourself, for fuck's sake.
his compassion only runs so deep, before it twists into some selfish and self-indulgent, something to make himself feel better. this time however... this time is different. he wants to walk on eggshells around this problem, because this isn't some kindergarten kiddy game they're playing, this is life-ruining. and while he's ruined his fair share...
well, he's stopped liking it.
hiruma's trying to sort himself out in front of jesse (why is he still here, why is he putting up with this), and his shoulders sink like he's an old balloon deflating. sakamoto is right—they can't know now. he'll just have to let this secret burn a hole in his stomach, until the right time. whenever that'd be.]
I'm fine.
[a lie, and it'd be an obvious one. but he can thread a truth in there to bolster it, make it seem believable. that's all it really takes, for the small loss of looking weak.]
Sleep is a pain in the ass, when you can't shut off long enough to get any.
[ There it is-- Jesse stops short, like a dog that's just met its leash. This is as far as he's allowed to go.
And it's fair. They don't exactly know each other extremely well yet, not all boundaries are clear. He's just pushed one. He puts a hand up, vaguely apologetic, prepared for the anger.
His instincts were right. Fortunately (unfortunately?) mood swings and unpredictable behavior aren't anything he's not used to dealing with. He knows how to curl inwards and dull the sense of rejection. He doesn't know what the hell is going on with Hiruma, but he knows not to ask again.
It would only make things more tense. He wouldn't get an answer. He's not getting one, he knows that now. Pointing out that obvious lie won't work. While he watches Hiruma deflate, Jesse shifts to giving the back of his neck a squeeze, his body language compliant, submissive. ]
Yeah, man, I get it. I dunno if I remember what a full night of sleep feels like, you know? It's been, like, forever. [ Roll with the change of subject, yeah. ] Not to mention these piece of shit accommodations. Not helpin' things any.
[ Of course, he doesn't know anything about his missing friends shoved into freezers. Not a single thing. ]
[he hasn't forgotten where they are, and just how many people have had it so much worse than him. it's hard feeling segregated just because of his own fucking stubbornness. but isn't that the way it has to be? to make it out of here alive, won't he have to burn all of these bridges before the end?
jesse talks, and hiruma listens.
jesse pinkman, the unfalteringly loyal—and, jesus, he can tell that after just a month? a month, and the guy takes it on himself to make sure someone he knows next to nothing about is alright?
he's trying to keep up with the subject change and hide the fact that he knows hiruma's lying (hiruma can tell the moment he looks back over, i mean for god's sake), and the liar himself doesn't know whether to rewind and give the poor bastard something else to work with, or just let him go and see how long he babbles for.
there's a snort.
you're fucking odd.]
Exercise.
[the topic is something he's very familiar with, and the olive branch to jesse for something resembling the start of a conversation. hiruma doesn't waste any time jumping into it; this place, sleep, secrets... that's the last bullshit he wants to talk about, but he can't blame his blockmate for the starters.]
Tiring yourself out is better than a fucking lullaby, y'know.
[so,]
You should start, and see if it's useful to you. Running, maybe.
[how about turning the entire conversation around on jesse? why, that's a fantastic idea.]
[ Phew. Jesse is openly relieved. He could've babbled like an idiot forever, if he had to.
He's no saint, but Haven distorts things. One month is a long fucking time when you're never quite sure about seeing tomorrow, when you're always waiting for the next horrible and inscrutable development to surface and send you reeling again. It makes him want to be protective of the people he feels like he wants to call his, natural tendency towards loyalty exaggerated and attachments born fast, spreading too rapidly. Just like that stupid fire they started.
Hiruma ain't one of his yet, but damn if he's not interested.
He lets his arm fall back to his side and quirks an eyebrow. Exercise? Grateful as he is that it worked, that Hiruma allowed him to diffuse the tension, the topic is something he's very unfamiliar with. He can't help rolling his jaw on an almost noiseless laugh.
He can boast a year, but he's as puny and unhealthy as ever. Maybe a little healthier, without steady access to anything that could lead to a substance abuse problem. But running laps? ]
It'd probably work. [ He can't argue against that. Jesse drifts to lean against a nearby wall, still careful to keep a decent gap between them. ] But I ain't exactly the type. Thinkin' my lungs would give out on me, eh, ten minutes in.
[it's finished as quickly as it starts, so quick it may as well have been a cough, because there's no smile on his face. just the crease at one corner of his mouth, and the beginnings of white as he deliberates jesse's words with no small amount of thought. he's a wiry guy, little muscle by the looks of his forearms—
hm.]
You think that, but you don't know how to run.
[the moment jesse finds the wall to lean against, hiruma stalks forward with purpose into a bubble of personal space he stops at a comfortable (for him, anyway) arm's distance away. it's obvious what's coming, when his injured hand finds the doorknob without a thought to the bruising knuckles, pulling the damn thing open with a dainty twist.
because he looks over expectantly.]
C'mon.
Edited (oh no my bracket oh my) 2014-11-25 02:52 (UTC)
[ He recognizes it as a laugh, if only because there's so little bite behind the insult. He's relieved again, up until he hears you don't know how to run and oh no--
Oh no. Is this the price he has to pay for trying to distract the guy from his mysterious outburst?
His head lolls up, a long-suffering look aimed at the ceiling. Air blown through his open mouth. It is, isn't it. Funny how Hiruma has no problem expecting Jesse to listen and follow at the slightest prompting. It seems he's chosen his victim for that wisely, because Jesse pulls away from the wall and goes.
He doesn't know why. ] Seriously? We're goin' for a jog?
[ This is gonna suck, but he's willing to stick around. Maybe this is what Hiruma needs to get-- whatever, off his mind. ]
[hiruma's close to the front door by the time jesse manages to quit his tortured sighs and follow him out.
deigning to answer the rhetorical questions would be self-respect points lost, so he picks at the third instead, shouldering the front door open. jesse is the kind of guy who likes an explanation handed to him every time he probes around, and while talking is the last thing he wants to do, that mentality is interesting enough to blather on about filler.]
Every morning.
It builds your stamina, endurance, strength, speed, agility; it's the perfect exercise. Not only is the cardio good for your fucking health, 'cause it keeps your heart clean, it wakes you up and puts you to sleep. You run, and it keeps your damn mind preoccupied.
[an inhale, and an exhale, feet hitting dirt with a long stride.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wheezes
hiruma stares hard at jesse for the longest goddamn moment, chest heaving, before quaking fingers curl and he drops the fist to his side. if there's one thing he can't stand, it's showing weakness; getting himself compromised by emotion, even if it is cold, cold fury, is just pathetic. there's no room for it, not for him.
but that's not what bother him the most.
had he heard?
hiruma steels himself, and that takes a colossal amount of effort.
no, that's impossible from what he's come in and said, there's no way. hiruma doesn't know how many people jesse knows who "left for home", but the number is bound to be up there. he met him at his eleventh month here. by now, it's probably almost the guy's—]
You've nearly been here a year...
[the voice is as stable as he can get it, but it still comes out hoarse.]
When is that.
mouthbreathes
[ He furrows his brow and drifts from the doorway into the room. On second thought, he closes it behind him-- what was careful concern is more obvious now, his expressions betraying him... just about almost always. ]
Why?
[ Hiruma's trying to calm himself down from a fit, or something close to it. It's obvious, but Jesse's not gonna point that shit out or highlight it in red. If Hiruma wants to talk, or wants to tell him to fuck off, he'll do one or the other. He has complete confidence in the guy's ability to express himself. ]
no subject
hiruma doesn't know why he asked it. maybe it's to ascertain that they share a long track record away from home, caught up somewhere they don't wanna' be; misery loves company. he wants to be alone, but he's learned that that's not always what's best for him. especially in a place like this.
that doesn't mean the talking comes naturally. or at all for that matter, obvious in the defensive curve of stiff shoulders.
the silence is heavy, but it isn't awkward, at least not for him (he's always the one causing them; he's used to it). he's still thinking over sobering news, and the fact that his amped up nerves need to settle immediately. hiruma's breaths block up, his body stilling, and he turns his attention back to jesse.
why the guy's in here is confusing—just what's the motive here? the concern is blatant, and hiruma's sure it would be even if it wasn't him looking. but perceptive or not, the fact that there is concern is odd. people are fucking odd. this place is fucking odd.
he thinks of kurita, and startles himself into speaking to fill the void.]
Gotta' know which fucking day to avoid celebratin', right?
no subject
That heavy, incredibly long stretch of silence there certainly makes Jesse feel weird. Especially given: Hiruma's body language, the slow-fading shock (is it shock? or something else) on his face, the fact that he punched... a wall...
He has a vague sense of waiting to be snapped at. This is the exact right mix for that, it is. He keeps his distance without losing the concern, because he can't. A month to the year. What's it matter? ]
Uh, I guess, [ he draaawls... and he hasn't been told to leave yet, so Jesse shuffles in a bit closer. He hasn't been told anything substantial either and fishes for the right words to draw it out. Or maybe just the right tone: ] You feelin' okay?
[ Sometimes Haven messes with their heads, in a big way. Is that what this is? If it is, he'll need someone watching over him. ]
no subject
[comes the immediate reply, an abrasive snap to keep distance between them as his face turns from jesse. eye contact now would just give him away, so he searches the cots along the wall with a sharp scoff. he's strong-armed people away before, and hiruma knows exactly what he's doing and why he's doing it to the guy with all that concern.
don't worry over me, you idiot.
did you know? did you know that everyone who's "gone home" hasn't? did you know they're just shoved into a freezer somewhere? did you know that? because if you knew that, you wouldn't be here talking to me right now, no—if i told you right now, i wonder what exactly you would do. would you punch a wall? yell, cry, lash out, break?
focus on yourself, for fuck's sake.
his compassion only runs so deep, before it twists into some selfish and self-indulgent, something to make himself feel better. this time however... this time is different. he wants to walk on eggshells around this problem, because this isn't some kindergarten kiddy game they're playing, this is life-ruining. and while he's ruined his fair share...
well, he's stopped liking it.
hiruma's trying to sort himself out in front of jesse (why is he still here, why is he putting up with this), and his shoulders sink like he's an old balloon deflating. sakamoto is right—they can't know now. he'll just have to let this secret burn a hole in his stomach, until the right time. whenever that'd be.]
I'm fine.
[a lie, and it'd be an obvious one. but he can thread a truth in there to bolster it, make it seem believable. that's all it really takes, for the small loss of looking weak.]
Sleep is a pain in the ass, when you can't shut off long enough to get any.
no subject
And it's fair. They don't exactly know each other extremely well yet, not all boundaries are clear. He's just pushed one. He puts a hand up, vaguely apologetic, prepared for the anger.
His instincts were right. Fortunately (unfortunately?) mood swings and unpredictable behavior aren't anything he's not used to dealing with. He knows how to curl inwards and dull the sense of rejection. He doesn't know what the hell is going on with Hiruma, but he knows not to ask again.
It would only make things more tense. He wouldn't get an answer. He's not getting one, he knows that now. Pointing out that obvious lie won't work. While he watches Hiruma deflate, Jesse shifts to giving the back of his neck a squeeze, his body language compliant, submissive. ]
Yeah, man, I get it. I dunno if I remember what a full night of sleep feels like, you know? It's been, like, forever. [ Roll with the change of subject, yeah. ] Not to mention these piece of shit accommodations. Not helpin' things any.
[ Of course, he doesn't know anything about his missing friends shoved into freezers. Not a single thing. ]
no subject
[he hasn't forgotten where they are, and just how many people have had it so much worse than him. it's hard feeling segregated just because of his own fucking stubbornness. but isn't that the way it has to be? to make it out of here alive, won't he have to burn all of these bridges before the end?
jesse talks, and hiruma listens.
jesse pinkman, the unfalteringly loyal—and, jesus, he can tell that after just a month? a month, and the guy takes it on himself to make sure someone he knows next to nothing about is alright?
he's trying to keep up with the subject change and hide the fact that he knows hiruma's lying (hiruma can tell the moment he looks back over, i mean for god's sake), and the liar himself doesn't know whether to rewind and give the poor bastard something else to work with, or just let him go and see how long he babbles for.
there's a snort.
you're fucking odd.]
Exercise.
[the topic is something he's very familiar with, and the olive branch to jesse for something resembling the start of a conversation. hiruma doesn't waste any time jumping into it; this place, sleep, secrets... that's the last bullshit he wants to talk about, but he can't blame his blockmate for the starters.]
Tiring yourself out is better than a fucking lullaby, y'know.
[so,]
You should start, and see if it's useful to you. Running, maybe.
[how about turning the entire conversation around on jesse? why, that's a fantastic idea.]
no subject
He's no saint, but Haven distorts things. One month is a long fucking time when you're never quite sure about seeing tomorrow, when you're always waiting for the next horrible and inscrutable development to surface and send you reeling again. It makes him want to be protective of the people he feels like he wants to call his, natural tendency towards loyalty exaggerated and attachments born fast, spreading too rapidly. Just like that stupid fire they started.
Hiruma ain't one of his yet, but damn if he's not interested.
He lets his arm fall back to his side and quirks an eyebrow. Exercise? Grateful as he is that it worked, that Hiruma allowed him to diffuse the tension, the topic is something he's very unfamiliar with. He can't help rolling his jaw on an almost noiseless laugh.
He can boast a year, but he's as puny and unhealthy as ever. Maybe a little healthier, without steady access to anything that could lead to a substance abuse problem. But running laps? ]
It'd probably work. [ He can't argue against that. Jesse drifts to lean against a nearby wall, still careful to keep a decent gap between them. ] But I ain't exactly the type. Thinkin' my lungs would give out on me, eh, ten minutes in.
no subject
I've been trapped in my own room by an idiot.
[it's finished as quickly as it starts, so quick it may as well have been a cough, because there's no smile on his face. just the crease at one corner of his mouth, and the beginnings of white as he deliberates jesse's words with no small amount of thought. he's a wiry guy, little muscle by the looks of his forearms—
hm.]
You think that, but you don't know how to run.
[the moment jesse finds the wall to lean against, hiruma stalks forward with purpose into a bubble of personal space he stops at a comfortable (for him, anyway) arm's distance away. it's obvious what's coming, when his injured hand finds the doorknob without a thought to the bruising knuckles, pulling the damn thing open with a dainty twist.
because he looks over expectantly.]
C'mon.
no subject
Oh no. Is this the price he has to pay for trying to distract the guy from his mysterious outburst?
His head lolls up, a long-suffering look aimed at the ceiling. Air blown through his open mouth. It is, isn't it. Funny how Hiruma has no problem expecting Jesse to listen and follow at the slightest prompting. It seems he's chosen his victim for that wisely, because Jesse pulls away from the wall and goes.
He doesn't know why. ] Seriously? We're goin' for a jog?
[ This is gonna suck, but he's willing to stick around. Maybe this is what Hiruma needs to get-- whatever, off his mind. ]
How much do you usually run?
no subject
deigning to answer the rhetorical questions would be self-respect points lost, so he picks at the third instead, shouldering the front door open. jesse is the kind of guy who likes an explanation handed to him every time he probes around, and while talking is the last thing he wants to do, that mentality is interesting enough to blather on about filler.]
Every morning.
It builds your stamina, endurance, strength, speed, agility; it's the perfect exercise. Not only is the cardio good for your fucking health, 'cause it keeps your heart clean, it wakes you up and puts you to sleep. You run, and it keeps your damn mind preoccupied.
[an inhale, and an exhale, feet hitting dirt with a long stride.]
It's all burn; adrenaline, understand?