hugtopia_logs | 'no' is the saddest experience you'll ever know.

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'no' is the saddest experience you'll ever know.

♥ Who: Cliff Norman and whoever wants to put up with him.
♥ Where: various.
♥ When: Early November.
♥ What: A sad wolf is a bad wolf.
♥ Warnings: Cursing, Hell content in Héctor thread naturally.

[ one - the loneliest number. teen house. ]

[He doesn't know why he hasn't taken Kaito up on his offer before, especially since he's made a point to walk by his house a couple times to check on it or make sure it existed in the first place. The damage done by the worms isn’t enough to take out the place or make it unsafe, thankfully -- and it even leaves the task of quietly getting inside through a window even easier! Not that he couldn't use some difficulty as a good distraction from feelings he's trying very hard to ignore. Before he goes to climb inside, he makes a quick pass to see if the garden is likewise a survivor from October’s big wormy mess.

And then he's in a home that isn't his. It's weirdly soothing for someone that never relished the idea of spending time in his own home growing up, even if it's far from the window he'd really like to be climbing through. Nothing to do about that...and at least here he could feel vaguely welcome. Both Kaito and Shinji had invited him in the past! It's fine. Cliff is several steps across the room and listening for signs of anyone else being around before he calls,]

Hellooo? Anyone home?

[...decidedly not from the front door.]

[ two - just as bad as one. héctor. ]

[hahahahahahaaa fuck everything about this. He honestly hadn't meant to avoid Héctor all month, but with the worm drama on top of his dumb tender feelings, there hasn't been a good time. That's what he's choosing to tell himself so that he doesn't get frustrated all over again thinking about all the thinking he's had to do.

In the end, Héctor is still Héctor, whether he's the one Cliff knew or not. He knew he wasn't the same and had plenty of reason for that. What mattered most right now was that they were both, more or less, doing okay -- something Clifford had been able to be sure of without getting too close, thankfully, because of his nose.

Now he's getting close. So close, in fact, that he's right at the door and scratching at it with his claws, full wolf. He's...fairly confident that Héctor would be the one to answer any call to the door in this household, from what little experience he's had with Nekane, but if not? He's leaning into the anxious hope that one of the things shared in this -- bleh -- marriage is not the fact that Cliff is a big dumb werewolf.]

[ three - dog night. open. ]

[The scariest part of the worm attack, surprisingly, was not the worms. It was that moment he went to become the wolf and felt like there were hooks on the inside holding him together, refusing to let him change without a fight. He'd fallen to the ground in agony that only lightened when he finally stopped trying to shift and let that part of himself go. Cliff didn't flaunt the fact that he was a werewolf -- basically, anyway -- but not being allowed it, even on his own? Terrifying. He'd barely managed to get his head back on straight enough to shuffle citizens and helpers back towards the safety of the town center, and had been grasping at any chance to help defend.

It's still screwing him up a little, but Cliff’s making the most of getting himself back, going around the city as a red, juvenile wolf watching life get back to normal and honing in on interesting sights and smells.

Of course, the boy in the red hoodie with eyes like an animal can be found wandering as well. Usually out running at any odd hour or stuck behind a counter doing his best to act like someone who knew how to be polite.]

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[He snorts but says nothing. He just grins a little, wry and imagining the things Cliff must know about him in his strange alternate-worldly way. A him that's younger and him that's less... that's more what he wants to be.

He doesn't want to think about that for long. It hurts. So in truth, he's grateful for the distraction. At least for a moment.

The next moment his heart squeezes in a way that isn't good at all. And then he just feels sorry.]

No. [He answers softly, quiet.] I would've made sure. I'd want to know you weren't a cultist, that you weren't an Aegle. I might've hurt or threatened you, ruined things between us, but I'd make sure. Then, when I was sure, I would've killed you. But, no, I wouldn't have liked it.

[They were monsters. He's not sorry for them. But still... His eyes close.]

I've fought demons. I suppose you can count killing monsters. But as far as another person, I've only killed one. I don't regret it. He deserved it. And it needed to be done.

But it felt awful. It doesn't leave my head. You lose something of yourself, doing that. I lost something...

Edited 2021-11-12 05:38 (UTC)

I thought they were a monster.

[He'd been quietly listening, the heart that had started steady but quickened over the course of his question starting to settle again. It's back down to a familiar rhythm, but it feels like there's something sharp in there, now. Words that went from his ears to his memory, where it became an arrow of feelings and shot down. The softness in his voice could be mistaken as horrified, accusing disbelief, as if he'd misinterpreted anything Héctor had told him before or was on the verge of revealing his guess about this person's identity, until he continues.]

They were, kind of. But they were a person before that. Not like how Raven was. Someone turned them into these...things, and Oscar was out there, too. He couldn't open his eyes or he'd become one, too, but one of them found us. It would have killed him if --

[Same as Héctor, it needed to be done.]

Anyway, I saved him. I could tell he was scared, though. Scared of me. He didn't even know it was someone, I don't think, he just realized his fun werewolf pal was actually dangerous. He locked the window I'd used to get in.

[Cliff comes to a stop and looks up from his shoes, because he's a boy again with his arms curled around himself. His eyes, more animal than anything, rest on the man instead of dodging him out of discomfort.]

I'm sorry. I didn't want to do that to you.

[Yes, he thinks, Dodger was a monster. No, he thinks, Dodger was just a stupid, stupid man. Before he needs to do anymore to untangle the thoughts, Cliff has gone on and he realizes that the comment wasn't to do with Dodger at all.

He listens to the tale. It's not hard to grasp what would have happened if Cliff had, in that moment, chosen to be merciful. There'd be no mercy at all. And yet, still, Cliff bore punishment for it. He stops too.]

Oh, kid. [He says it quiet. Cliff is a kid again and he reaches, for once wanting to touch, to comfort, but he doesn't. His fingers find the loose edge of Cliff's sweater, hanging there like that's the same as hanging onto him.] I'm so sorry.

[Sorry he knows the feeling. Sorry about the fear.]

...Fear involves choices. You chose to stick around me. Oscar chose, I hope, to stick around you despite that. You and I both know the way people will trick and hurt you, the way monsters don't wait for you to make a choice. It doesn't feel great on the other end of that fear, but... but it might be good to remember it'll keep them safe. Monsters don't wait. The others sorts... only make you compromise, not them. But someone you can trust will... they'll take the steps with you. As long as the fear isn't so great we can't do that, then it's okay.

[He smiles faintly, something bittersweet.]

It's a lot more tedious than the days of trusting everyone and being sure of one's own limits, thinking the world is normal. But I think it's still worth while to work through.

[He doesn't jerk away or even lean out of Héctor's reach. It doesn't take as much effort as he thought it would, especially when he's remembering his muzzle wet with blood and look Oscar had given him. His lame not-even-an-excuse that was a blatant way of avoiding being alone with Cliff. He'd told the man then the same thing he'd told Héctor out of more hurt than he'd ever want to admit.

He doesn't have to admit the feeling to Héctor because he already knows, nor would he have had to explain away or apologize for moving away. Maybe it's because of that that he lets Héctor hold onto his clothes and slowly brings his hand over to tough the side of his finger against the other's.]

Yeah.

[Thrilling commentary.]

So we're cool, okay? I'd rather you not have to fake it around me because you're worried I'll be afraid of you. ...I trust you.

[The little touch is so small, so tentative. It matches Cliff's words, both fragile and yet easy to hold. Both mean everything, a balm on his heart.

He smiles the smallest of smiles.]

I think I'll still be... a little careful. I want you to feel safe.

[How rare that feeling could be. He knows it will take work. But this is, in a sense, what they're doing.]

But I'm... very glad to hear that. You're a good kid in your own right, you know? Not just because of a shared tie to Coco. Naturally, I trust you too.

[It had always been easy, in a way. The relationship itself perhaps was rocky, but he didn't doubt Cliff once-- only when he wasn't sure if Cliff truly was himself. Cliff knew him in ways most people didn't. He'd never worried about that.]

...Nekane learned those hard lessons earlier than I did, relatively. They're not so quick to trust, much quicker to act. That extends to me. But, while they'd rather chew glass than admit it, they're still that angel at heart. They see good in people. And they'll see you're good too.

I can't make them apologize and the choice is still yours to forgive, if ever. But as far as I'm concerned, you're still, and always, welcome. In the family, in my home, or just around.

Edited 2021-11-13 00:05 (UTC)

[Cliff gives a little nod -- feeling safe was good, and so was the feeling of making someone else feel safe. If he thinks about it more like that, it's easier to stomp down the anger at himself for not having any pride left to keep hold of. It helps that it's true.

The rest makes him sigh and want to pull away, but he doesn't do more than curl his finger to take hold of his hoodie right alongside Héctor. He slides over a knuckle in the process and it strikes him how different Héctor's hands were from his, his mom's, Kevin's, and especially Carl's. They're different from Coco's, too, but the deprivation of touch that was normally welcome makes him think of that same warmth, like being wrapped safely up in a blanket. He hopes...he never manages to hurt Coco the same way he'd hurt everyone else that made him feel that way.]

I told you, don't worry about it. Don't know what to do without someone around to call me out on my bullshit after the last few years, anyway. [...] Might pay to see some glass-chewing, though.

[Don't worry about it. He'll let it go. Not every time, but this time.

He snorts. Then full-on laughs. It shakes his shoulders.]

I don't doubt they would. And then I'd have to listen to them complain for weeks. I'll scold and they'll make the usual huffy face and say it was worth it. Sometimes they make me feel civilized.

[He shakes his head and, at last, lets go of Cliff's jacket. He turns a bit so they can continue their walk.]

You let me know if you ever do find out what it's like not to have people call you out. That is one thing I've never gone without. It's just taken different forms.

[He's smiling a little in response to that laughter, but it fades pretty quickly. Héctor's happy and it's a fun mental image! But...he hates how much he hates that he knows now that affection is love.

Once Héctor's a few hobbles ahead, he gets moving himself. He catches up again far too quickly.]

Oscar's only done it to look out for me, I think, so that's pretty close. Kind of annoying.

Very. [He agrees, and yet there's still warmth in his voice.] You're never going to cross that bridge, Héctor. Why not stay here and enjoy the holiday, primo? What do you think you're doing with all of that? One of these days there will be no one left to lend you things!

[He laughs.] Of course, still better than Squalo's, when are you going to man up and become a total sociopath?

[His eyes close.]

But there was Imelda too, all those years ago. The songs can wait, come out of that room and eat something with your family, you fool.

[For a second, he hums. You make me un poco loco, Un poquititito loco... He catches himself and stops, but his smile lingers.]

I always try to avoid it, but then I look back and I miss it. Crazy, probably.

[He thinks of his own echoes. They hurt, but...yeah. He, too, would try to avoid it, look back and miss it, and not be able to keep all signs of affection out of his mock-miming. Cliff decides that's a Later Thing to think about, and also he's completely ignoring the shittiest advice he'd ever heard that Héctor had apparently been given. Instead, he looks over and quirks a wider, slightly lopsided smile this time. That hum. It was so short, but unmistakeable.]

Un poco loco, yeah.

[His mouth twitches. He feels many things at once. He lets them all wash over, gives himself a moment, then he cracks open just one eye.]

Un poquititito.

[The eye closes and the smile survives.]

That was... last year. I sang that last year with Miguel. In front of a whole crowd. The boy was amazing. First time on stage and he knocked it out. Then his dog dragged me on stage too. But he didn't need me. Started off afraid but he was a natural. I was so proud.

Edited 2021-11-13 03:42 (UTC)

[The fabric scrunches up in his hand tighter before Héctor responds, but the worry that he's messed things up again didn't quite have the time to settle in. Good. All the poking and prodding at various wounds -- an accident half the time -- was maybe starting to make it easier to deal with. Or maybe letting people in just helps the recovery process. Who can say?

Miguel again. He sounds like a good kid, if a little misguided -- not his fault it took so long for him to learn who was really his family. Cliff wonders, briefly, if he would ever have the chance to meet him through these strange alternate universes and timelines, but more than that he wishes...Miguel was someone Teto could have around. That might be especially strange to admit to someone who was, in a way, the grown version of Teto. "Gosh, wish he'd been around when you were younger!" Like, okay?]

Pfh. I would've died. I bet the two of you had a blast, though, even if it was all the dog's doing. Good pick, too. My irisnet username was inspired by it.

What? No! Really?

[He doesn't know what an irisnet is, but he knows usernames! Sort of.

It's kind of crazy to realize that Cliff might be a fan of the real song. What a novelty.]

But we did have fun. I got completely swept up in it. I think we would've even won the competition but- [He laughs then and his head bows.] Dios, we were so close to working it out. His family was looking for him and he dragged me off stage. If we'd just waited a second more, maybe if we hadn't argued... [He shakes his head.] No changing that now. Tell me about this username.

These days, yeah.

[As much as "these days" can count in this place, for as long as he's been here without access.

He's all set to listen, ready for some lighthearted tales for once -- even if there was a depressing shadow waiting in the wings of this one, he can see that much already -- but he'll let Héctor leave the story on that short but lighthearted note. He can have that one, especially today.]

'unpocolobo'. Pretty great, huh?

[Tell him he's funny!!!]

[Congratulations, Cliff. He's about to tell you you're funny.

He barks a surprised and delighted laugh.]

Un poco lobo! That's brilliant! Oh, I bet Coco gets a kick out of that one too.

[In a world where Coco actually can appreciate his music... He hangs on to the warmth of the thought. Even as he lifts a brow at Cliff.]

So, not so much a secret werewolf there?

[yaaaay his thirst for replacement-paternal approval is being appeased.]

...Yeah. It's kind of complicated, but it...helps, you know? It's not just me.

[He's not alone, even if he tried really damn hard to keep it close enough to himself that he very well could have ended up that way.]

The school, it's...for us. People that are different. I'm still getting used to it, but it makes Coco happy that I'm not, um. Letting it be as big a deal, even if I still have to be careful about some stuff. Go figure she's not a fan of hiding what makes you you.

Helps that the bird guy I met there isn't a total psycho. Tob's cool, for a nerd.

[He nods. It makes sense. When Cliff speaks of Coco's thoughts on the matter, he speaks softly too.]

Go figure...

[What would his daughter say to him? When it might stop hurting enough for him to really wonder? He lets himself laugh a little with Cliff's fond teasing of his friend.]

I guess it would help, to have so many around who understand. It's kind of hard to wrap my head around the school. Things are so different than they were when I was a kid. But it sounds nice.

Well, yeah. You were born a zillion years ago.

[old!!!!]

My regular high school sucks, if that makes you feel better.

[He snorts and scoffs.]

I was not. I was born 1900 exactly! I'm a young 118 year old!

[He knows it's not young. The joking is fun.]

I suppose it helps. A little. You do have to bear it longer. At your age, I was already free to play and dance life away with the most beautiful woman in the world.

Zillion-million.

[Though once again he's doing the math, prompted by that reminder, and god, Héctor and Imelda were so young, he can't believe this. It's somehow embarrassing for him, though not as...much as...]

I still need to learn that. Dancing. I think about it and want to spontaneously combust.

[And then it will be him dancing with the most beautiful woman in the world! Take that, you're about to be dethroned, old man.

...wait a minute -- ]

Holy shit, you're younger than Oscar! Not -- the 118, obviously.

[He laughs again.]

Even older than a Zillion-million? Impressive.

[But his grin softens, something bittersweet there.]

I'd just turned twenty-one. It wasn't so uncommon back then, to die young, or younger.

[The grin returns.]

And speaking of dying young, the best way to learn to dance is through practice. The good news is, I can teach you. The bad news is, you'd have to dance with me. That's the secret of learning to dance; dancing with your older friends and hating it.

Yeah... He's twenty-five.

[It's probably sad to be a sixteen-year-old whose best friend -- his real friend, the one he's closest to and only one who knew nearly everything -- is nine years older, but that's just how it is with Oscar. The only sad thing Cliff can think about is that twenty-one is...unfair. He's had his perfect dream figured out early, but that didn't make it any more okay to take it away from him or leave the ones left behind to suffer the consequences. It's not fair. It's...even younger than the one he knew, too.

Buuuut it's his turn to suffer, apparently.]

We just made up and you already want to kill me?

[Ernesto's age, he thinks, but carefully doesn't say. That would not be a welcome comparison.

Ages could be strange. Everyone in the land of the dead was frozen where they stopped, Whatever age they were, forever. And yet, they might hang around longer, gain experience, know things attributed to elders. They were always a little of both.

Right now he's feeling younger, laughing.]

Better dancing with me than dancing with Ernesto. I'm a better dancer and better in general. I also managed to teach Nekane to waltz, so I could certainly teach you. The spite you feel will stave off the embarrassment.

[The spite, yeah. His definitely looking more annoyed at just the mention of those names alongside the suggestion. Why does he have to be on the same list! And why can't his teacher be a super hot, unobtainable but very helpful chick! Why does his girlfriend have to like dancing in the first place!!

Still, as much as he wants to outright tell Héctor 'Nope! No way! Not happening!' he really does...want to learn. He has to at some point, and if he does it here, then he can even get paid for it.]

It's all just going to be lame old stuff she's going to make fun of me for...

You think Coco is going to make fun of you for learning and then asking her to waltz?

[A brow lifts so high that it nearly escapes into the mop of his hair.]

Are you sure you're talking about my daughter?

[He shakes his head.]

The waltz is never "lame old stuff". It was old in my time and it was a classic in my time and it's still a classic now. And it will be easier to start with than something like jarabe tapatío.

Edited 2021-11-14 18:16 (UTC)

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