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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[It's not that flustered feeling, but... It's not what Héctor wants from him. He knows it's not even as he opens his eyes and stares at his socks, praying that the pressure in his head and on his chest goes away before he has to speak. It doesn't. There's no point in pretending otherwise, no matter how tempting it is to try. Shit.]

I want to go home.

[His smile falls. Cliff might think he's gotten wrong but in truth, he probably couldn't get any closer to the way he's felt all this time. He sighs and speaks softly.]

... I know, kid. I know.

[He closes his eyes for a moment, feeling it himself. It's still there, calling. But there's nowhere for him to go.]

Do you want to sit down for a bit?

[Admitting it made the feeling real, and of course it had to be to Héctor, the guy that would understand more than anyone else. Cliff holds his breath, not trusting himself to do anything else without some shaky almost-sob or sniffle, but question breaks the resolve there.]

Shit.

[Damn it. Even if he's not alone, it sucks. He hates this. He can't even go anywhere, not really -- it's his house. Suppressing even more curses by deciding to not answer, he turns to walk over to the couch. Cliff takes the moment he's turned away to rub the heel of his palm against an eye. He wants to go home. He's sick of this place, he wants to go home. He just wants to go home. He settles into the corner between the arm and the couch's back and draws his legs up.]

[He follows Cliff, slower because he is and to give Cliff the smallest moment of space. Then he settles down at the boy's side, and he wants to reach out. He wants to pull Cliff in the same way he did Miguel in those last moments.

It really is that time of year after all, isn't it?]

Don't fight it, Mijo. It'll just come back harder. It's you and me. You're safe.

[Safe just to be, at least.]

[Don't, he wants to say. Don't come near me. Don't touch me. Héctor gets to his own 'don't' first, and what comes out instead is a shudder through gritted teeth.

Don't tell me what to do.
Don't comfort me.
Don't call me that.

He swipes his forearm across his eyes, still trying to make it just stop. He doesn't want to break down like this. He doesn't even deserve to in front of Héctor. None of that matters, because it's too late to stop the wave of homesickness so overwhelming he was actually feeling sick. It's too late for all those 'don't's, and since there's no choice anymore, he desperately reaches for a new one.

Don't leave me.

Cliff doesn't say that, either. He hopes he doesn't have to, because he'd have a hard time with it even without his gross sniffling and hot tears. It won't be long before he stops -- much longer before he doesn't feel like shit both physically and emotionally from this, but it's the little things, when you're transported to a world far from your own without any of your loved ones or a way to contact them.]

[He waits, ever resisting the urge to reach out. He can't offer that, even if he can swallow the itch on his own skin, interrupting this for Cliff with old fears is not the way to go. He offers what he can, which is time and an open hand and his presence, however much an offer any of those really are.

When things seem to ease for Cliff-- not stop, but veer onto getting there-- then he allows himself to speak.]

You're going to see them again. You'll see your mother, your brother. You'll go home. Everything will be exactly where you left it. I promise. I'll make sure of it myself if I've got to.

[He's already learned of ways. He might not have anywhere else but Hell to go, but he can find a way for Cliff to be where he needs to.]

[He holds back a, 'fuck you' -- not because he doesn't feel it, or anything. He'd really like to not feel it, to not be this angry and mistrusting. He settles instead for,] You can't know that.

[He can't. And even if he could, Cliff would see his mother and brother again, yes, but... Does he know what to do with himself anymore without Oscar? Without Coco? He gone through losing them already in ways -- Oscar leaving when he said he wasn't going to, Coco with a knife in her back and falling, his strength failing him when he needed to carry Oscar to somewhere he could have any chance of surviving because he needed help, and Cliff needed to help him. They both helped more than he was worth, and they'd disagree with that.

He lifts his head, stubbornly drying his face and trying to get it back together. His determination to keep his voice from becoming an unsteady croak means that his speech is sharper than usual -- biting.]

And if you could, what? You get sent to Hell again because of me? I can't do that.

Edited 2021-11-16 01:12 (UTC)

I had a nice place in Hell. Before this world happened, I was fully content to live out the rest of my dubious days there. After Imelda and Coco, it was home.

[And as much as he is completely serious about all of that, he doubts it will be taken as such. He moves along.]

I did talk with people. Before and after our little fight. People with magic and the will of the gods. And with our fight, I did consider that there might be... avenues I didn't consider. But at the very least, people do go home in this world. They go home in other worlds too. I heard stories well before coming here. I heard more stories like that than people living on into old age with people they found in new places.

[And just like that, his fear that he might lose Nekane is Cliff's hope for going home.]

Your odds of getting home are even greater than the odds were for meeting me here. And what do you know, here I am, your least favorite Héctor. [He offers a faint teasing smile.]

[That's stupid. Héctor is so unbelievably stupid, awful, and...kind. Being home in Hell still means being in Hell. Home was still home when Carl was in it. There are other problems, too, ones he selfishly decides to feel no sympathy towards -- no, that's not true. Very little sympathy. He can do that, maybe. Regardless, it's something he feels okay about stocking as a weapon even though he knows that's wrong.

He doesn't use it for now. Cliff laughs, wet and completely devoid of cheer, at what's supposed to be encouragement, maybe?]

All that means is my luck is shitty.

[...But he does extend out a foot and push against Héctor to pretend he's shoving him away.]

[He lets himself be pushed by Cliff's foot but he doesn't actually move far, acting no different than a tree blown in a breeze.]

Maybe so. But we do both know Coco so how unlucky can we be?

[Very unlucky, with one bright spot of good.]

My point is, this won't be forever. That I do know. It feels like hell right now and it might for a while, but you have people around who understand, you have things you can do in the meantime, and you will go home. You have to hang onto that. Not the least because I want you to give all my love to that family, but because it will keep you sane.

[With a sigh, he wraps his arms around the leg he still has close and closes his eyes. They feel gross. His other foot remains where it is like he's reminding himself that Héctor's really there for him like he said.]

...Yeah. I guess.

[His agreement is a lot stronger than he makes it sound. God, he loves that girl. He hopes Héctor really is right and he'll be able to tell her that. Soon would be nice.]

Shit, sorry. Here you are trying to help me, and I can't even keep it together.

[He shakes his head and the faint smile returns.]

Don't be sorry, mijo. It's around Día de Muertos, like you said, the time of year I'm usually like this. I've been a much bigger mess than you for much, much longer.

[He sighs.]

We have to fall apart sometimes. It is, regrettably, necessary. Like letting out steam on an old engine. I don't mind being around during the whole process. Especially if it helps even a little bit.

['Mijo' again. He still can't figure out how he feels about it even though he's coming down and his brain reminds him it doesn't...mean anything. It's the same as a, 'Listen here, son,' except not for assholes. But he can't shake the reactionary, 'I'm not your son'. Sure would be nice if he hadn't been burned so badly by people he'd called fathers before.

Cliff starts to run a hand through his hair before realizing that's a little gross when it's still damp and with more than tears. Falling apart might be necessary and all, but it fucking sucks.]

...Yeah. Better than getting pissed like usual. [In general, not at Héctor specifically, not that he stops to think about how it could very well be interpreted that way with how things have shaken out between them...more than once...]

[He laughs, rueful but amused.]

Probably. Less mess to clean up.

[Metaphorically speaking, unless one decided to go breaking things like he and Nekane did sometimes.

He is aware that it could be directed at himself specifically, but he's not going to highlight it. Things were rocky between them, but there was plenty of reason for that. Between them, always, is the ghost of he should be, wrestling with the reality of who he actually is. Between them are all the little injuries they've carried with them. All things considered, he thinks they're doing rather well.]

I am sorry. To have opened the wound like that. I didn't consider how fresh it all is.

[You'd think he would've...]

[Things are working out! They would probably always have slips and screw-ups between them, being the individuals they are and having such a complicated connection, but despite that, Cliff is sure that for as long as they're both around, he's going to want Héctor in his life. As much pain there's been in adjusting to each other, adjusting to this place has been easier than what it could have been.]

Nah. It's been three months... [He was already feeling homesick. Héctor just gave him a chance to actually dwell on his feelings and deal with them. Hard to begrudge the guy for that, since he's not already worked up over something else.] I was away for longer at school, but I could still talk to them. Kevin would always apologize for calling when he couldn't get to sleep because of the time difference, especially if he'd already called after school. I'd do almost anything to get woken up like that now.

Three months feels like a long time to start with.

[It feels like nothing to him now, but at first, it stretched on. Worse still when he thought he had just a year ahead of him.]

I know what you mean. Not so much with the calling, of course, didn't have that option, but I would've loved it. I wrote her letters. I sang our song. I kept wishing I'd be woken up by her and I'd be home, in bed, and maybe Imelda would be there too. And that was before I died.

It's the sense that you can always reach out, go back. Things aren't so bad then. It's when you can't anymore and you have to wait that it all really...

[He doesn't finish that sentence, his mouth pressing. He takes a moment before continuing.]

It's tough. The first while is really tough.

[No argument here. Three months has been so much, especially with all the weird happenings! Is this what it's like to be Oscar? Gross.

Cliff grunts his agreement, eyes tiredly moving to focus on the floor. He can understand now how his hope and love was such an effective weapon in Hell. Giving up on seeing them ever again and finding whatever happiness he could...really was the kindest thing he could do to keep himself sane, huh? God. He hopes (ha ha) he never reaches that point, especially since there's not even torture to go through here, unless you count possibly hugging a stranger. Yuck.

The point is, Cliff will...try. He'll try to be more understanding of Héctor's strange choice in partner. He takes a deep breath and loops that resolve around his head a few times to really cement it in.]

...Thanks, by the way. For all this, and coming here. For a least favorite anything, you're not too bad.

[He laughs, surprised, and pleased too. He grins crookedly at Cliff. ]

Of course not. I am, after all, still a favorite.

[Teasing done, his grin softens. He shrugs a shoulder.]

You're a friend and a good kid. It's no problem to me.

Plus... if I teach you to dance, you'll get use everything I've taught you to make my girl happy and dance with her in my stead. That's a pretty great deal, if you ask me.

[Another very gentle push with his foot. You stop that... Pretty much all of that, cease.]

"In your stead" like I'm doing it at all for you. Psh.

[He would be, probably, a little bit, sometimes. Mostly, though? He's very selfish and wants to be making Coco happy all on his own.]

[He sways like the push is a great wash of a tide.]

As if it's optional! By the very act of passing it on, I benefit! That's the way it works!

[He's grinning and teasing, but there is a grain of truth. If Coco is happy, then he's happy. Whether Cliff intended it for him or not is irrelevant. Through the lessons, he'll exist.]

[He might roll his eyes, but he knows Héctor is right. It really is just that simple...but it would make Coco happy, and that's what mattered. The lessons would have to be put on hold, though -- after that, even with the joking around, he feels too shitty to learn something new.

He doesn't let the idea quietly die, though, and while he doesn't let Héctor know beforehand, he decides one day to swing on by and see if the the old sack of bones is up for it. Meandering along on his tablet, not paying attention to much in particular, he doesn't realize that the kebab -- fruit instead of meat, why this? -- offered to him in thanks for his work the previous day might not be the best idea until he's well on his way. He could bail -- there's not even anything to bail from because of his obnoxious need to be an unpredictable teen -- but a look around that makes him stumble confirms that at this point, he's closer to Héctor's place than his own. And here he thought he'd never have a problem like this, not living that far!

By the time he's at Héctor's doorstep, he barely has the strength to knock before he moves to sit, and he rests his head back against something solid that will keep him upright, unfortunately, he's chosen the door.]

[It's a moment before he answers, the unmistakable sound of a cane tapping before the door opens from within. And then, just like that, there is a boy at his feet. He blinks.]

Uh... you okay there, Cliff?

[Oh. Good. It's the one that doesn't want to punch him. Falling back and nearly banging his head against the ground has helped jostle him awake enough to push himself back onto his feet and grimace.]

No.

[The yawn would be so much cuter coming from a wolf. Oh well. It would be a lot cuter if he wasn't having a lot of complicated feelings right now, too.]

I kind of need to crash here for a little while? Even if you could carry me back, that's... Fuck that.

[He winces on Cliff's behalf for the sound of his head hitting the floor. Sometimes there's just no making the situation cute. But there's no hesitation for his part.]

Sure thing, kid. Do you want the couch or the bed?

[He wavers, then offers out a hand to help him up.]

And while we're at that, what's the story?

Couch.

[Frequently unused or not, bed is just weird... Though it is tempting to ruin the neatness.

No. No, the need to curl up and doze is too strong. He can be led around with the ease of which one would a toddler. The well-behaved kind.]

I dunno. Feels like a spell this witch put on me once... Just need s'mewhere safe. Can't figure it out r'now. If a lady comes, don' give her your name.

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