teaserving | ⏪ INBOX

Yes. Both remaining ones are stupid. You've been sufficiently warned.

Do you ever find yourself...upset, irrationally, by things that are on their face benign and harmless, but that still somehow remind you of...unpleasant things...anyway?

what do you mean by things that are on "their face"

Like a car backfiring, but the sound reminding a person of a gunshot.

so that's either ptsd or something similar
but yeah i know what you mean
that's not stupid
what's up?

It's still embarrassing. Reacting like that over a dead body.

Someone gave me a gift recently, and it made me remember my father's murder. The...way it was wrapped.

Now will you agree it's stupid?

no
why the fuck would i think that

that's traumatic. reacting negatively to something like that is way more normal than you might think.
i couldn't step into a damned convenience store for like a year after my partner died

I don't know. I suppose it just never occurred to me that it would bother me. Especially not something as harmless as that. The box, I mean. Maybe it was a lot of factors.

I lost control of myself, a bit. That's the other embarrassing part.

sometimes simple shit can make you think back to things you thought you put behind you
i've seen some fucked up things but those don't weigh on me as hard as personal matters. things that actually matter to you.

I'll go into convenience stores for you if you want. I don't mind doing it.

What about afterward? To feel like a...gray, disgusting, discarded gym sock, is that also normal?

ha that's actually pretty sweet of you

oh yeah. that's normal. that's kind of how i feel most of the time
a little moist
moldy

Gross.

I wouldn't guess it from looking at you, though.

i keep it on the inside usually.

don't be hard on yourself, kirigiri.
i don't know everything you went through but reacting to something because it reminds you of a dead person is pretty understandable. whether they were family or something else.

[Alter Ego is typing...
Alter Ego is typing...
Alter Ego is typing...
Alter Ego is typing...]

i just don't want to disappoint my grandfather

i know that feeling
kind of

but you aren't a machine, kirigiri.

i know.

thank you for saying it.
that's what i needed to hear, i think, but it wouldn't have been genuine if i'd asked for it outright.

i understand.

hey
you wanna come over for a bit?

yes.
i wasn't really sleeping anyway.

you don't have company already?

nah it's just me
i'll make some coffee if you want

All right. I'll get myself together and head over soon.

I never did ask you my second stupid question, come to think of it.

oh yeah.
you wanna do that now or when you get here?

When I get there, I suppose.

You've more than earned the chance to roll your eyes at me in person.

dont hype me up for it or i'll be disappointed

i'll be waiting

[And sure enough, within the hour, here she comes — a little sluggish, and notably wearing a stolen boy's T-shirt and shorts instead of her everyday coat and school uniform, though the boots and the gloves are still present as always.

She still lets herself in, because of course she does, but this time it's with the audible sound of an actual key turning in the lock.]

[It's such a little thing, but hearing her use the key does briefly put a smile on his face which he hurries to wipe away. Arranged on the small dining table are two mugs with coffee. One has a skull on it, which is definitely Abbacchio's. The other is new, but still Kirigiri's.

He squints at her stolen shirt, but... well, there's something kind of charming about how casual she looks right now. Sure, she can take care of herself and everything, but he still has the protective urge to threaten a boy's well-being on her behalf.]

Hey. C'mon, it's still hot.

Thank you...

[What makes this a little weird is that she's not used to someone greeting her when she lets herself into Abbacchio's apartment, so when he does, there's a split-second where she's actually not altogether sure what she's supposed to say. I'm home doesn't feel right, but neither does saying nothing, and so eventually she just settles on something noncommital as she locks the door behind her and heads toward the table where the coffee is waiting.

It's immediately apparent which cup belongs to who. Briefly, enigmatically, she smiles.]

Where did you find that?

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