sirenspull | o1o, video

[Filtered from Warsman.]

When I lived in Konoha, Valentine's Day consisted of every girl I knew bombarding me with crappy homemade chocolate that tasted more like wax. Boys were supposed to reciprocate with something of equal or greater value a month later, on White Day. I never did, though--for one thing, I'd have been broke, and for another I never returned the interest.

[If you look closely, his face has a little more color than usual, and he's avoiding looking directly into the camera. His voice is low, too, a little secretive--and on closer inspection, it becomes clear that he is hiding out in a supply closet. A posh one, though; even the closets at the Uzushio are high end.]

This is stupid. [Grumbled. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling nervously; he looks back at the camera and actually makes visual contact this time, resigned. Unhappy. Embarrassed.

But still resigned. He really doesn't have much choice, here.]

I've never done this before. [And he wouldn't be doing it at all, but he has this strange, squirming feeling somewhere in his stomach that Warsman would absolutely love it--that's enough for him to push past his hang-ups.] I don't want to make it seem like I'm trying to be the woman or anything, but--should I make him chocolate anyway?

[Augh. The words coming out of his mouth make him want to pull out his own hair.] I don't even know if he likes chocolate.

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I'm not good at laughing.

[No, seriously. He stares flatly at the video feed.]

Edited 2013-02-18 05:39 (UTC)

It's fake laughter. You don't have to be good at it.

But he'll know something's up.

[Whatever this suggestion is, it's going over his head. He can take down a monster without breaking a sweat, but somehow mundane social interaction is just...missing from the equation.

Which is frustrating. He frowns into the camera.]

Have you ever actually done this on someone?

[Ahaha, has he ever spied on someone? To find out what they like?]

Yeah. It's pretty successful.

[Skeptically.]

Really? What for?

I said I have done it, not that I'm going to share what it was for. It's just helped out in the past.

That really gives me confidence that this is a viable method.

[Careful, don't slip on the sarcasm dripping from his voice.]

[He'll try not to roll his eyes too much.]

All right. I spied on my brother... a lot. He picked up on it, once. So I laughed it off, because who's going to argue that they knew you were spying when you say you weren't?

I followed my brother around all the time when I was little. This is--

[More important? Higher stakes?]

Different.

It's love, isn't it? Actual love.

[Congratulations, Tim. You may be the first person ever to make Sasuke choke on his own spit.

Face burning, he turns away from the camera to clear his throat.]

That's a strong way of putting it.

[He smiles.] But I'm right, right? You love him.

What? No.

[It's immediate and defensive--his eyes snap back to the camera. Then he realizes that the speed and fervor with which he responded sounds more like a confirmation than a denial.

He makes a frustrated noise and shoves a hand in his hair.]

I don't even know if I'm capable of it.

[He gives a small smirk and a raised eyebrow at that, though it slowly turns into a small frown, eyebrows furrowed.]

Do you mean that literally or figuratively?

It's complex.

[The expression on Tim's face makes him distinctly uncomfortable, like he's being analyzed, picked open.]

I've lost so many people I loved. I don't want to go through that again.

[One of his good friends is part robot. It's always best to check on these kinds of things. But damnit. Tim knows what Sasuke is saying. He knows it too well.]

I'm sorry. This might not help, but I know how you feel. But if we just stop loving people, we miss out on what we could have, even if they're only going to be there for a little bit. But it hurts. And it never gets easier. But do you really want to miss out on the good parts?

[He's heard the speech a million times, and before he's always found it fine to coldly insist that the pain isn't worth the bond.

It's...a little different, now.]

It's not that--I've spent so much time and effort shutting off that part of me I'm not sure it's possible to open it back up.

[He bites the inside of his cheek to stem the growing tide of self-loathing.]

I can't even get myself not to flinch when he touches me.

It's possible. Trust me on this, it's possible. And it's just as easy to shut yourself off again whenever you think you're through.

[He shrugs.] That's not going to stop suddenly, or quickly. It takes a lot of time. It's...

[He sighs. He can remember doing the same thing whenever Dick put an arm around his shoulder, touched his hair, did anything that involved touching him when he didn't expect it. Didn't know if he wanted to be touched, and then realizing that he missed it terribly once it was gone. Tim still didn't know if he deserved the kindness before, but he absolutely felt like he deserved it to be taken away from him.]

It's going to take awhile. Accept that and the rest will follow.

'Easy' isn't the word I'd choose.

[Every love he's lost has cut deeper than the one before, closed him off a little tighter, put up a thicker wall. He'd thought he'd been done already--stone-cold and immune to to the pull of companionship, too deeply scarred to feel it when someone tried to take hold of his heart.

Every time he thinks on it, he finds himself a little more shocked at how easy it was for Warsman, who seems to have pulled him open as easily though he were made of tissue paper. Every day, he sheds more of his armor and watches as slowly, it's replaced with embracing arms and a soft voice.

The truth is, he's close to losing it completely--to falling back into the passionate softness from his childhood, to branding his heart on his sleeve for the world to see and trusting someone else to keep it safe.

It terrifies him, because he knows intimately and in vivid detail how much it hurts when an unsheltered, open heart is wounded.

Part of him is still a child, curled up and sobbing on the floor next to the chalk outlines of his parents' corpses. His consciousness is split, blurred between past and present; he hears himself respond almost mechanically, as though he's listening to a clone speak from somewhere else in the room.]

But we don't have time. The core could take either one of us any second. I don't want to get so attached that I can't put myself back together when he leaves.

[Because he's going to. It's Sasuke's lot in life--at the end of the day, he always ends up alone. Which is probably better, for everyone who comes near him. Less exposure to his poison.]

o1o, video

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video; sorry for the tl;dr