hugtopia_logs | it's been the ruin of many a poor boy [open.]

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it's been the ruin of many a poor boy [open.]

♥ Who: Clifford Norman, OTA!
♥ Where: wherever tbh...
♥ When: August 1 and general early August.
♥ What: Cliff arrives to do typical intro log stuff and be frustrated.
♥ Rating: uhh PG-13 for language? and probably underage smoking at some point.

[ a. the wrong world. ]

[He’d had the plan to move out solidly in mind until recently, but…somehow this wasn’t quite what he’d pictured. After being led to housing by the welcome wagon, Cliff had waited out the helpful robot before slinking away from the open street to somewhere he can quietly freak the fuck out in peace. Even in the alternate reality he suddenly had a second life’s worth of memories of, he’d only heard stories about some corrupted-but-harmless AI, nothing like a whole society….not that that’s his biggest issue right now. He doesn’t know nearly enough about science or magic to figure out why the hell he remembered two versions of his life or why he was a wolfboy from the middle of nowhere with shitty father figures in both of them. That just doesn’t seem fair?

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, shakes his head like it will disperse those thoughts, and sets off again. Maybe if he got the lay of the land, he'd have an easier time getting a handle on things. At least he can feel being an Animal Person, and know that if he wanted to right now, he could be a wolf before his next step hit, and that’s knowing more than nothing! Along that thought, he was wearing Oscar’s hoodie and he had that bag of gummies he'd just started. Undeniably real. But the hoodie had existed in that other world, too, even though he'd never gotten tangled with “just some guy” that was a magnet for trouble. And…]

Huh. Well, that was the most unbelievable part of all that.

[In his pocket, the push of his finger against a figurine’s ear assures him that it is also pretty damn real. Didn’t hate that, no matter how confusing it is. The circumstances surrounding this place and that other one, though...]

Christ. You save a guy’s life a couple times and they want to upgrade you to saving two worlds?

[Because he didn't have enough of a headache.]

[ b. the wrong foot. ]

[Contemplating his newly realized existential crisis, he doesn't have the mental fortitude to figure out who’s in charge and kick their ass. Instead, the redhead resigns himself to pretend-scrolling through his not-an-earth-phone while his eyes -- more animal than human, if someone were to inspect them -- and scowl do the job of telegraphing his mood for him even from where he's hiding under his hood.

It could be that simple, just his glare accidentally finding someone who didn't deserve it and a miscommunication running wild from there, or it could be that while he's pretending to be distracted by his phone, he's actually distracted with his thoughts enough that he comes too close to someone passing the other way and bumps into them. He jolts back with tight fists and an arm lifted like a shield between himself and the stranger. As ready to fight as he might seem and sound, it's possible to notice that he's on guard rather than being aggressive.]

Hey, watch it -- !

[ c. the wrong attitude. ]

This sucks.

[Cliff plops onto the bench with a truly impressive sigh. That feeling before he’d woken up… Even with as much as he loves his mom and brother, the fact that he still had to hold a part of himself back means that it had been so completely, overwhelmingly alien. Comforting and safe in the moment, but now?]

Fucking tired of people messing with my head…

[This really, really sucks.

Miserably, he notes that he should be rationing the few supplies that had come with him, but he deserves the sugar, dammit! Cliff drags the bag of gummi bears out and starts to eat them with the enthusiasm of a man on death row. He starts each one by biting its head off.]

[ d. the wrong...card?! ]

[idk man it’s the wildcard option, hit me up if you want to work something out!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[And there goes the joy of the moment, sucked down a blackhole. A blackhole named music and it takes his grin with it. He glances away.]

I don't play. Not anymore. You'll have to chalk that one up to worldly difference.

[Or rather, his other self not cluing in to what a problem it could be for everyone around him.]

Edited 2021-08-05 21:14 (UTC)

[Cliff's train of thoughts come screeching to a halt and their their feet with him, leaving him to look at Héctor like he'd just claimed his type was snake ladies in hula skirts.]

What the hell? Why not?

[He stops a moment later, turning to frown a Cliff. There's a prickle of irritation-- shouldn't be obvious why? But, no, this is worth clearing up.]

Everything that happened to me, that happened to my family- to all the people I've loved- music has been behind it. I left my family and I lost them for good. I made music a curse for them, for generations. I got to listen to that man play my songs, her song, as I wore down over time. Miguel, a little living boy, is trapped in a cenote in the land of dead because he wanted to chase after my stolen musical legacy. He could be dead right now! And that's to say nothing of the fact that the man I thought was my best friend murdered me for music! Or even that it wasn't the last time that I let music pull the wool over my eyes so I could get myself and others get killed and worse!

[He closes his eyes, mouth twisting. He pulls a breath, trying to calm down.]

... I'm sorry. [He scrubs his face.] I'm sorry. But I can't. I won't do it anymore.

[Good work at keeping your cool, Héctor. The boy is still not happy with the argument, as thorough as it might be. You know teenagers. They're stubborn, and Cliff's face suggests that he's not buying what he's being sold. With a huff, he shifts his eyes forward and goes back to a determined walk.]

Oh, fuck that. Kids like music. They like doing shit they're not supposed to. Not everything is dads and how you're raised, so don't take credit for somebody you had nothing to do with -- and why are you giving that murderer an excuse! He killed you and hurt Coco because he's a fucking bastard, that's it.

[Oh yeah, stellar job. He picks up the pace again too, mood soured as he limps along.]

I didn't say it was fatherhood and raising-- I've barely done any of it! And I'm not giving Ernesto an excuse! If he shows up here I'm going to gut him. But I'm not giving myself an excuse either.

You think it's as simple as there just being a bad guy and that I shouldn't worry from there. If I had nothing to do with it, then how was he even my friend to begin with? How did I miss every single sign that something was wrong? I talked Imelda into things, and I talked myself into it, because I wanted the music, and whenever something was not quite right with him I looked away. This was not some one-time thing, Cliff. I screwed up. A lot. Even after I should have learned my lesson.

[He shakes his head.]

Have you considered that, maybe, the thought of trying to play these days after everything makes me miserable? Is that reason enough not to?

Then just fucking say that!

[Is it so hard for adults to actually say what they mean and to trust the kids sometimes!!! He decides to not slow to account for Héctor's limp or the fact that he has no idea where he's going. It'd ruin the effect.]

Don't feed me bullshit about how music is the problem.

It is a problem! You just don't like that answer, so I'm giving you another one!

[He huffs. What was it with kids and picking his words apart like that?]

What does it matter to you if I play or not anyway?

[because kids are stupid in some ways and adults are stupid in others. they were built to balance one another. that's the only reason aging exists.

He wants to spit back that music is just a thing, and that Héctor did it because he wanted to, same as Ernesto. The words move from the tip of his tongue before settling down in his chest like a burning pebble. True words, but it doesn't explain why he's getting so worked up about it and not just leaving it at "that shit's stupid." Besides, I t's about Héctor not playing, but it also just...isn't.]

It's just the same fucking thing her mom did. And look who that helped! Coco wasn't allowed to be herself, Miguel wasn't allowed to be himself, and now you're all going to die. Play or not, I don't give a shit, but don't act like picking up a guitar was what made you fuck up your life.

It's nothing like what Imelda did! Do you want to know why? Because I haven't said a word to Coco and I never will again! I can't tell her to be herself or not to! I can't help her if she's sad and I can't make her happy! I am not a part of her life!

[It feels like ripping something out of himself every time he says it. He hates it.]

I didn't stop Miguel. Even when I should have. I went along with it and I encouraged him on because once again, I was stupid and swept up in it. I'm not saying it's the kid's fault he likes music. I'm saying it's my fault that I do. I'm the one who gets distracted. I'm the one that brings people to their death. It's music and me.

You don't think, if I could, I'd let them have whatever they wanted?

[It's putting blame where blame has no business being and using it as an excuse to silence dreams! Except something that sounds less dweeby, which he can't think of, so he can't put into words how that didn't fix a problem, just made another one, and instead he's left to huff.]

Whatever, man. Forget it. [Give up.

He should have snatched the lighter instead of letting Héctor keep it. Another cigarette would be real fucking nice.]

...And forget this. I don't feel like looking at houses anymore, I'll figure it out on my own later.

[He doesn't wait before veering off, immediately tuning out anything Héctor might say and any of the other comments passing by as he kicks up to a light jog. When he's out of Héctor's line of sight, he sprints and sprints until he can find a spot where he can be alone, have some quiet, and look out over part of the city. Calm down.

- - -

Tracking isn't hard, even if he hasn't had a lot of experience with it in either world he remembered, as long as he knows what to look for. He hadn't been paying too close of attention to the man's scent, and it had been masked by smoke for part of the time, but wandering the city until he picks it up is something he decides he's okay with. After some searching, the trail starts to get less faint, and Cliff shoves his hands in his pockets in an effort to look casual even as he walks directly towards the man, wherever he may be.]

Hey. You busy?

Edited 2021-08-06 05:46 (UTC)

[He really should learn to give up sooner. That would probably save everyone a lot of trouble too.

Whatever he might have said is lost to the wind as Cliff darts off. He's not going to stop him from leaving. Least of all because he knows drawing people back never ends well.

But also, in a way, this was probably a good thing. They don't know each other. They don't need to know each other. What business has he talking to his daughter's friends? It's for the better, and he tells himself that as he heads off, pausing only to tell Nekane not to mind after all, and that he's staying out a bit longer.

He rests upon the edge of the fountain. It's nothing close to the same, but this, of all places, feels the most like Santa Cecilia and the land of the dead. The sky is alike, and he stares up at it, one foot dangling in the water, the other leg resting on the stone. At least until Cliff shows up. He shifts and drags himself upright. He takes a moment to fix his hat.]

Not particularly.

[But he's not sure if he's up for whatever this is going to be. He guesses he'll see.]

Cool.

[His tone is far from enthusiastic, and his eyes manage to be just off to the side of Héctor even as he retrieves his pack of cigarettes to pull two and offer one out. Light 'em up, bud. It's probably necessary grease for this conversation, since he has no idea where it's going to go. Just how he's figured he'd start.

Once he can get a good, long drag, he looks skyward like he's watching the smoke dissipate.]

So I kind of got pissed and needed to cool off. Sorry. It wasn't any of my business.

[He doesn't waste time. He pulls out his lighter and lights up both without another word. It's honestly not the tensest or most awkward situation he's been in. It's not even the worst apology, after all is said and done.]

... It's alright. I got mad too. You did the better thing.

[By leaving, that is. Dodger would have stayed, blown up, and ruined something like he always does. Squalo would've sneered and snarked until one of them just shut down.]

You're... her friend. You're looking out for her. In your way.

[He pauses, using the cigarette to give him time to think.]

... I didn't expect to... deal with all this again. Or at all, really. Didn't talk about much in Hell. Even Nekane... I ended up taking care of them, for a while. There just wasn't ever the time and I didn't plan to make any. Maybe if I had, I could've handled that better.

[Cliff hums shortly, shifting his weight to one foot before sighing and sitting on the fountain's edge next to Héctor.]

Nah. My mom hates it when I run off like that.

[So it was the right thing, but not something he was supposed to be doing, anymore. Not that this situation was the same as running away from home and ignoring his phone -- if he had it at all -- because he'd been having an argument with Carl.

The further contrition just gets a vague wave of his hand. He highly doubts Coco would like to hear he was looking out for her like that.]

It's fine. It's not a big deal. Don't worry about it. I can't promise I won't ever get mad again, but since I'm here I can listen to you if you want to talk, got it?

[He hums.]

Best not to make your Mamá unhappy then. But it's fine for now.

[He listens. There's a breath from him, almost a laugh, though it comes out real quiet.]

I wouldn't expect you to never get mad. I don't know how to do that.

[He always feels that anger under the surface now, boiling up over this or that. He lets his eyes close. He's not going to talk about music again. He's not imagining it's going to go any better. The real issue between he and Cliff isn't really music anyway.]

... I'm... jealous. Not just of the obvious things. But of all the living who had to bury their loved ones. I know it's hard, I'm not stupid, I've had to lose people for good in other ways, but I think about it... getting to mourn. It's what you do when you won't ever see someone alive again.

My daughter's alive. She's been alive this whole time. I've never been allowed to mourn. I've never been allowed to... say goodbye. It's always been me trying to reach her. I've never had to stop. I've tried everything, anything.

[He feels that wetness on his cheek. He glances away, quickly wiping at his face, then he stares down at the ground. The cigarette stays close to his lips, his voice quiet.]

Nekane's all I have in any world now. I was thinking, if we hadn't wound up here, I was going to help them redeem out of Hell, like I did once. They'd go to their world and I'd either go with them or... or I'd stop. Go home to oblivion and just stop. But I'm here. And I'm... grateful to be with them... but I need to figure out how... how am I going to live with this? And I don't really think there's an answer.

That's part of why I never really wanted to talk about it. What's anyone supposed to say? Nekane has so much going on... you actually might get to see her again... who else in Hell cares? Who else is... going to understand...? I just want her. I just...

[He could interrupt at any point, but what was there really to say? That hey, don't worry, part of the reason he was so touchy about it wasn't just Coco, but that he was idiot with daddy issues? It's much more productive to sit back, listen, and think about what he's being told. There's something off about it, something in the way Héctor seems so hopelessly alone in feeling that way doesn't quite hit the target, but...he'd been at it so much longer. Cliff's got one whole fucking day under his belt for something that comes anywhere close.

~~also damn they seem like very good friends~~]

It really sucks. I mean... Even if I do get to see her, I'll never see Oscar again. I wouldn't choose even if I could. [There's a loss guaranteed for both of them, should they leave this place. With a sigh of smoke that has him imagining Coco wrinkling her nose somewhere, he dips his free hand into his hoodie.] Look, I can't help you see her or say goodbye -- I guess I could try to take a letter for you? But she isn't...your Coco, so I don't... [He trails off, still reluctant to share it after all that because what if this is the wrong thing, Cliff cautiously pulls the wooden figure out from his pocket.] She gave this to me when I visited Santa Cecilia. I'm not going to give it to you, but if you wanted to see it? I don't know. It was so I'd think of her.

[Maybe holding a piece of her, some small part of some version of her, would be...therapeutic??? He doesn't know, it makes him feel better, even beyond the knowledge that she was really real.]

[Saying it sucks feels a bit like an understatement. It's also such a modern phrasing that it makes his mouth twitch, even when the topic doesn't actually get better.

There's something about it, the knowledge that Cliff wouldn't choose. Nekane's always known that if he could, he'd choose Coco in a heartbeat. He wonders what it makes of him.

He shakes his head at the suggestion of a letter. She's not his Coco and she doesn't need some added pain to her life. His own Coco might finally be free of hers.]

An Alebrije...?

[The little wolf is offered and reaches out slow, with all the care that he reached for that photo in the cenote. The figure itself holds no meaning for him. It reminds of home and his home in the land of the dead, but beyond, it's just a figure. Except, it was she gave, something she held. She wanted to be remembered. He runs a calloused thumb over its side.]

I was out. Preforming. It was... a rather enthusiastic wedding. The party went all night and I played just as long. I came home exhausted. I just wanted to collapse into bed. I can't remember if I did or if she caught me before I made it there. This little thing so upset. She'd thought I'd forgotten about her. That moment, I thought I was at once six years old and two hundred.

I reassured her, went to bed, and when I woke up, I worked on a song. Imelda always had to remind me to get out of the room and eat something when I wrote, but I don't think I'd ever felt so guilty as I had while writing that song. Shut up in a room or out in town... I had to work, but she was my world. I wanted her to know that, even if we couldn't always see each other or say goodnight, she'd always be there in my mind.

[He passes the little wolf back, just as careful.]

Do you want to see her picture? It's not on me, but, I can bring it out.

[To appeal to Héctor's overblown sense of guilt: Cliff's choice is between two best friends, not a daughter he'd been fighting for like a century to get to and a best friend and spouse with a lot of the intimacy being trauma-induced.

When the wolf is out of his hands, he anxiously picks at the side of his shoe and puffs away. It isn't that he things Héctor would really break it or suddenly run off -- or that if he did that, he couldn't easily pin him down and get it back -- but it was a lifeline. A very tiny anchor keeping him from going completely crazy, the same way the red hoodie he wore was. His tension eases a little with the recounted memory, but it isn't until the figurine is back in his hand that he moves his eyes and their predator-like intent from it. Cliff tilts it gently in his hold, looking at the little details they'd talked about that had made Coco choose it. Now that that damn song was 'recuérdame'-ing inside his head along with the sight of her smile, it takes a hard swallow before he can answer. Shit.]

Sure. She must be wearing clothes from forever ago in it, so I can't even imagine. [For all the pictures he'd been able to see of the girl during his visit, not even mentioning the ones they'd taken together.] ...I think it's a rule or something, anyway. Parent shows the embarrassing baby pictures to the boyfriend or girlfriend?

[That could make a slight bit of difference. Maybe.

He laughs faintly at forever ago, but within a moment his expression completely shifts. He goes from a furrowed brow to widening eyes. His mouth hangs just a little as he turns to stare at Cliff, seeing him with new eyes. And then, slowly, his mouth stretches into a wide grin.]

Ha! Aaah! You!!

[He practically jumps, shifting in place so he's facing Cliff even more. His hands hover in the air, go to cover his mouth, and then hover again.]

Really?! You're together! Oh! Oh, that's so wonderful!

[If he'd known it was going to be like this, he would have kept his stupid mouth shut!! It's hard to say what's worse: this excitement or the knowing eyebrow-raising and comments. Both are bad, and he doesn't have the mental bandwidth to compare the two at the moment when he's distracted by all that movement. More focused on protecting the alebrije than anything in his jerky lean away from Héctor, he nearly loses his cigarette in bracing himself, hand against the fountain.]

Hey -- [Nothing too accusatory or upset, since even a Hell version of Coco's dad that he'd been fighting with the day before was preferable to most people, but damn! Give a guy some warning before you start in on the gesturing that risked entering his personal bubble, even a little.] Jeez! It's not that big a deal!

[it is, and he's glad on some level that this is the reaction because it's something he's personally a fan of, too. just!!!! stop!!]

Are you kidding? It's a very big deal! My girl is in love and I get to meet him!

[Well, an alternate version anyway. He wants to reach out but he also doesn't want to so his hands never do anything more than the hovering they're doing, though he pulls them close again to his heart. He's barely remembering his own cigarette.]

You look the age I was when I married Imelda. Maybe a bit older. The kids always seem to do things later and later.

Ah...! This is incredible! This is something. I have so many more questions! Have you been together long?

[someone kill him he wants to die, especially at the reminder of how young the pair had been.]

I'm sixteen, yeah. [His confirmation is half-mumbled, and his face is work on camouflaging him with his hoodie.] That's not -- we wouldn't for a few years. Not until I was eighteen at least, there's laws, I think?

[IT DEFINITELY ISN'T SOMETHING HE PANIC-SPIRALED TO HIMSELF ABOUT EVERY DAY FOR A MONTH MMMMM]

I, uh -- [He could just turn into a wolf and run away, never to deal with this again. Héctor looks so happy, though, that not all of the warm fuzzy feelings inside him are nausea.] About a month... We -- we haven't said that or anything! I don't know. [What if she isn't there yet, don't rush her and put L words in her mouth!!]

[His heart is melting. This is too sweet. If anyone's dying around here.,,]

Ah, so you're still in the early stage. Those are good times. Very good memories. You'll want to treasure those.

[If Cliff wasn't doing so already.]

Treat each other well then.

[He rises up quick.]

Come! I've got to show you the photo now! If it's a tradition, that is.

Why are we still talking about this? [he asks himself in a hushed voice, and though it makes him startle again, it's a relief when Héctor springs to his feet. Yes! Please! Let's move on! He scrambles to join the other man, wooden wolf returning to his pocket, and good fucking god it's hot, it was hot before but it's even hotter now that his skin is on fire? Why is wearing his hoodie the most convenient mode of carrying it, he's dying.

But he's ready! For potentially more dying.]

[He laughs and ignores that. Why wouldn't he want to talk about this? Enjoy dying over there Cliff.

He takes the time to really get a few more pulls from his cigarette but he's not going to get it down before they reach his home. He steps up to the place, frowns, then says;]

Wait here.

[Maybe if he's fast he can get in and out without setting anything on fire. He opens up the door.]

Nekane! If you're home, I'm just grabbing the photo!

[With that, he sticks the cigarette in his teeth and darts inside. It's not long before he finds it and he limps back out with a frame tucked under his arm, pulling the door shut behind him and taking the cigarette back up. Success.]

Sorry about that. Are you okay with sitting here on the steps? They don't like cigarettes so I don't usually bring them inside.

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