APRÈS LE GRIS - LE MONDE DE NOUVEAU

Lev's Harrier 'Harry' Du Bois and Kim Kitsuragi from DISCO ELYSIUM

[espritdxcorps]

- “ FUCK THE POLICE ! “ - “ But we are the police ... “ - “ Yeah . Fuck us . “

Lev’s non selective Lieutenant double-yefreitor Harrier "Harry" Du Bois and Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi from DISCO ELYSIUM by ZA/UM

Mun is 21, European and a full time college student.

NOT SPOILER FREE!

[ carrd ]

[espritdxcorps]

voltadcmar​:

Harry consists of a lot of different things at once - he’s a concoction of various emotions, mannerisms and actions, which had been stirred up until everything blend together seamlessly, into a mass of something undefinable. It makes him unpredictable, reacting in much different ways than one would expect a grown up human being to - and while it is helpful in a lot of situations (seriously, Kim has never seen a man just talking his way through people by chosing the most ridiculous things to say at the most inappropriate time, just for the two of them to end up with much more information about a case than the Lieutenant had ever expected to get in the first place) it can also lead to moments which have the same effect on him than someone punching him in the guts.

It happens exactly when Kitsuragi feels those arms wrapping around his slim frame - they just appear out of seemingly nowhere, pull him close against that thick, sturdy frame, holding him like the Detective is trying to simply pour whatever he experiences into his much smaller body. A set of dark brown eyes widen in shock, and the whole of Kim’s existence goes completely rigid as he is hugged - muscles tensing, his breath getting stuck inside his long throat, but…

Somehow, he does not push the other away. A part of the Lieutenant tries to - wants to send the corresponding signal to his arms and hands - but not a single fiber of his flesh reacts to any of his inner pleas. Instead, another part of him seems to sigh internally, practically deflating, soaking in the warmth of that strong masculine body like Kim has turned into a dry sponge being dunked into a body of water. How long has it been since someone had embraced him like this? Ages. Definitely years, maybe even a decade? Too long for Kitsuragi to pinpoint an exact moment, his brain too occupied with trying to figure out how to even react to this gesture, what to do next.

Those spoken words do reach him, through the fog of it all, but he does not answer them. Just takes them in, allows them to linger, his attention still focused on that hug, on those firm arms around his tense shoulders, his slender existence, fragile and vulnerable in comparison to Du Bois’ own…

He still feels mortified - ashamed, even more so now with his ears starting to burn uncomfortably while he feels his skin crawling at places. Embarrassed about how well he responds to this, not using any of his legendary authority to demand his partner to back off, but feeling a soft side of his carefully created composure to lean in instead, just the faintest bit, just ever so slightly.

But Harry soon pulls away, and as much as Kim hates the thought that pulses through his mind just a fraction of a second later, he cannot ignore it - he already starts to miss the heat, the warmth of that gesture, and he blinks as Harry regards him once more, their gazes meeting, with dark brown, widened eyes staring at the gray-green depths in front of him.

An adams apple bobs as the Lieutenant swallows. Nostrils flaring as he takes a sharp inhale of breath.

You’re the best Revachol has to offer, Lieutenant Kitsuragi.

A second punch to his stomach, hard and precise, a mixture of pain and relief washing over him in a frightening mixture. Pride is in there too, somewhere, as well as the hope of a young boy glancing up through circular lenses from many, many years ago. His heart races behind his sternum, pounding hard and steady, stumbling once before finding its rhythm again.

“I…”, Kim starts, helpless, lips staying parted as he tries to sort through his thoughts. Emotions have always come hard for him, dealing with them especially - even more so when they were directed at him. Compliments he can take to a certain degree, but… this one, coming from Harry, is so utterly sincere and honest, and heartfelt too, that it’s like the man is offering him a piece of his very damn soul.

“I… I’m- khm.” Shaking his head to himself, as if he is trying to shoo away an invisible fly, Kitsuragi clears his throat - his hands fold onto the lower part of his spine again, on top of the curve of his backside, as his gaze flicks away for a second - looking elsewhere, at nothing in particular, for a fraction of a minute before returning to his colleage’s eyes.

“I don’t think… —I don’t think this has ever been said to me before.” This is the very first time. And he would vehemently refuse to be seen as ‘the best Revachol has to offer’, for the sole reason of him totally not being the best, but he cannot even bring himself to do that. It’s… too much. He’s overwhelmed, and the Detective has caused him to lose his composure, his footing, just like that.

Harry remains silent for an awkwardly long time. His gaze flickering between Kim’s eyes. Despite so closely observing the inner turmoil that is reflected on the lieutenant’s expression, it all flies over his head. Instead he is struck, once again, by how devastatingly attractive his partner is.

From his deep, dark eyes to his high cheekbones and those full, slightly parted lips. The deep v of his shirt reveals a bit of skin that only allures him further. His almost shy mannerisms in response to the compliment do nothing but accentuate the one thought that has erased all others in his mind: 

Beautiful.

The fabric of the Lieutenant’s bomber jacket feels soft under your touch, clean. Reaction Speed jumps in, suddenly making Harry very aware of where his hands had naturally come to rest on Kim’s arms when he had pulled back from hugging him. You wonder what it would be like to touch him without these barriers between you. Suggestion adds. Without further thought Harry follows it and places his right hand on Kim’s cheek. His breath hitches. As if only realising the intimacy of the gesture after having already done it.

Kiss him! Kiss him right now! Electrochemistry loses no more time in droning the command into his skull. Harry feels as if his nerves are on fire with how much he wants to follow it. Miraculously, he manages to keep his composure enough to only lean slightly closer. Kim has only just shared something traumatic with him. Left himself vulnerable. Even if the feelings of attraction are mutual he might not want to surrender control over the situation entirely. So instead, Harry just opens his mouth again and spills his first thought out into the air between them like he only just remembered how to speak.

“ I really want to kiss you right now . “ He says, a matter of fact. He can feel his heart beating in his throat. 

[espritdxcorps]

voltadcmar​:

A deep, heartfelt sigh escapes Kim at Harry’s words - the plea of leaving this out of their report, acting like it has never happened to begin with for the sake of keeping him away from behind the desk. The thing is… well, part of the Lieutenant can understand  - his partner hates everything that includes paperwork, after all, and while he himself is always precise and to the point when it comes to dealing with the aftermath of a case, he very much prefers everything else as well rather than checking off boxes and writing down details about a field autopsy…

So Kitsuragi throws another look at Du Bois before sighing once more, in obvious defeat, as he carefully dabs the soaked cotton along the injury, removes as much blood as he possibly can, applying a bit more pressure with another, dry sheet of fabric in an attempt to make the bleeding stop.

It does not, however, which means he has to redo some of the stitches…

“… Your decision to make, Detective. But I am willing to…” Hesitating, the Lieutenant reaches back into the first aid kit to pull out a sealed needle and medical thread, putting both onto his colleague’s lap. “…—forget to include it into said report. For the sake of your mental health.”

At the cost of his physical health, he adds to himself quietly before handing Harry a drouamine pill, cocking a brow with an almost sympathetic expression lingering on his features.

“…Take this. I have to add more stitches to the injury… Unless you want me to take you to Gottlieb, who will ask questions and then definitely put you back behind the desk for the next three weeks.”

Harry keeps up his best attempt at making puppy eyes as the Lieutenant considers. Considering the eyes are part of a masculine, 40 something year old face the sight is more pathetic than endearing. If Harry is aware of this, he doesn’t seem to care.

His face pulls together in pain instead as his companion puts more pressure on his wound. A slight hissing sound is also heard as he sucks air through his teeth. A slight smile does appear again at the Lieutenant’s graceful compliance. Of course he’s there for you, always. Harry doesn’t know why he even doubted him for a second.

The smile too disappears as fast as it appeared at the mention of stitches and the sight of the needle the Lieutenant has pulled out. He visibly hesitates taking the offered pill too, his gaze nervously shifting between Kim’s eyes and the pill a few times before slowly reaching out for it. He can already hear Electrochemistry droning on in the back of his mind but he is actively trying to ignore it. “ Wait , hold on . Are you sure this is necessary ? “ He laughs nervously as he asks it. 

The idea of taking even such simple drugs seems to make him more tense than even the idea of the makeshift stitches. Though that definitely doesn’t help his nerves either. “ Can’t we just leave it ? I have plenty blood . I’m like a blood farm . I should be donating really ! “ He tries to argue. Cringing internally at how unconvincing he sounds to even himself.

Sorry friend. Rhetoric unhelpfully pops up. I’ve got nothing.

[stlowens]

Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals

[Text ID: “I feel occasionally my skull will crack, fatigue is continuous ⏤ I only go from less exhausted to more exhausted and back again.”]

[orphic-sapphira]

"The floor seems wonderfully solid. It was comforting to know I had fallen and could fall no further."

– Sylvia Plath.

[espritdxcorps]

lilaxwine​:

“Yes, for you. I haven’t seen you eat.” He gives Harry a fleeting smile. They’re few and far between, but he finds himself doing it a little more often now. He bought his own, too. Sharing a dinner, he inwardly recoils at the thought. They used to do that often, before Martinaise. It feels desperate and the tiniest bit pathetic on his part. It feels lonely. And while he is, he does his best not to project it. Even if he has no one fooled.

He’s leaning against the side of Harry’s desk now; instead of peering down at him. His arms crossed against his chest rather than picking up his own food. He pauses when he hears him recall the restaurant but resorts to nodding his head eventually. Words momentarily failing him. “Just because we aren’t partners anymore doesn’t mean I can’t worry.” He does worry. Almost constantly. Jean stops, a heavy lump settling at the bottom of his chest. Just because they’re not partners anymore doesn’t mean they can’t be friends. They’re still friends, right?

“Another late night?” Vic asks like he’s not doing the same thing, like he’s in denial. He doesn’t have to reach far to pick up his own food off his desk. This was probably the only normal thing anymore, sharing an office space with Harry. Still, it felt fucking odd sometimes. “…you’re welcome to crash at my place tonight.” He was pretty sure his apartment was closer to the precinct. Could’ve been that he couldn’t care less to pay attention to commute times anymore. “Should I make a pot of coffee?”

“ You are an angel sent from above . A food angel . “ He exclaims. Jean’s internal struggle largely flies over Harry’s head in favour of unpacking the food he has brought. He doesn’t overthink the gesture nearly as much. Though there is a strange sense of nostalgia that washes over him as he pulls Jean’s desk chair over and pats the seat to urge him to sit down as well. 

The smell of deep fried food fills their space as he unpacks the take out packages. “ You worry ? For me ? “ He repeats, though the words are barely coherent through the handful of fries he has already stuffed in his mouth. “ Oh Jean , you big softy . “ The words aren’t meant to be mocking. Not at all. There’s fondness both in his voice and in the way he looks back at him.

They might not be partners anymore, but not even amnesia can undo all they’ve been through together.

“ I lost track of time . What’s your excuse ? “ He teases once he’s swallowed the mouthful. “ Coffee sounds great but it can wait , alright ? Sit down , relax for once in your life . You brought the food . Can’t let it go cold . “ He points to Jean’s own meal with a soggy fry. “ And yes , because otherwise you would be so incredibly lonely and I am the kindest samaritan in this precinct I will agree to crash at your place . “ Harry adds with a dramatic gesture.

He turns serious for just a moment. Only to sincerely say “ ... Thank you , Jean . “ 

[espritdxcorps]

@voltadcmar​:

Once the wall of text ends - the downpour of compliments slipping from a set of beard-framed lips - the only thing Kim does is to stare at his colleague in bewilderment, which even goes as far as replacing any hard-boiled, carefully collected composure that usually keeps his expression delightfully neutral, unreadable by lost individuals facing him. Brown eyes are wide open, brows lifted away from behind the dark rims of his glasses, a set of full lips slightly parted as the cogs behind his receding hairline turn and grind together, trying to get a grasp on what had just been said toward him.

Sure, Harry isn’t the first one to throw a compliment at him - but at the same time, it almost never happens. When it does, the Lieutenant is skilled in deflecting, shrugging it off, choking the moment before it can develop into something that will make things awkward to begin with - it feels much easier to deal with blatant offensiveness at this point of his life, racism and homophobic slurs directed at his frame, his visual appearance, his glasses, rather than genuine, well-meant compliments.

This moment pushes Kim into uncharted territory - one he’s stepped into before, but only briefly, and then pulled back while closing the doors behind himself to make sure that he’s not going there again anytime soon. He has seen and experienced things in there that he doesn’t want to remember, doesn’t want to deal with, keeps hidden inside the depths of his mind as unreachable memories, locked behind thick bars of iron willpower.

The worst thing is that Kitsuragi knows that his partner is being genuine about the whole thing - but mentioning his past, assuming his younger self to have been desirable (’I can only imagine how smokin’ you must have been back then!‘) while praising his current self in the very same sentence, it creates a dangerous mixture of emotions within the Lieutenant that Du Bois cannot have any knowledge about, and therefore does not do on purpose.

Because he has no idea. He doesn’t know what it has been like, back then, and he also doesn’t know what it feels like right now, at the ripe age of 43.

Kim’s ears burn in a mixture of shame, embarrassment, sheepishness and bad memories that start to gnaw at his very existence - they must be glowing at this point like a red signal, cutting through the muted browns, grays and greens of their surroundings. There is no place to hide, no chance for Kitsuragi to stop it from happening, and he feels his own lips pressing together into a fine line after half of an eternity seems to have passed between the two men.

His hands twitch - desperate to move the whole of his arms, wrap them back around over his chest, but he straightens his spine instead. The anger that boild up behind his sternum is kept down by lungs filling themselves with air, through his flared nostrils, an act of self-control, the need to fight himself hard, to keep his emotions as bottled up as somehow possible.

… He wonders how much of this Harry can actually see - he’s a can-opener, after all, reads people like open books, and the Lieutenant supposes that he does something like that right now as well, trying to figure his new partner out, get to the most intimate bits of his existence, slowly unwrapping them layer by layer, leaving him stark naked in the middle of nowhere.

Part of Kim feels mortified, on top of it all. His adams apple bobs as he swallows. Fingers curling into tight fists so hard that he feels his fingernails digging into his palm through the layer of leather wrapping around his digits.

There is a lot he could say to this - but also nothing at the same time. Kim’s mind feels blank in the most horrific way, while overflowing with things that could be thrown out into the air between them easily, and it leaves him feeling incredibly vulnerable, helpless and out of control. By Dolores Dei, the Lieutenant hates the state he is in, the fact that Harry has done this out of good-will and the need to get to know more about him, not because he genuinely wanted to hurt the other in any shape or form.

He’s very aware of that.

The compliments speak for themselves…

“…—Nothing about me has ever been ‘smoking’, Officer.”, is what somehow, finally manages to slip from his tongue, his voice even and calm despite the fight that’s happening inside Kim, the fire that burns through the mess of raging sensations, trying to kill them off before they can become too much. “And no one has fallen to their knees to ‘get a shot with me’ - not in that sense. Not back then. I was a scrawny, lanky kid, barely reaching above 170 centimeters - a binoclard with foreign features on top of that. Some called me yellow, some called me exotic, and others asked what it feels like to ‘fuck monkeys’.”

A pause follows his spoken words - one that makes Kitsuragi realize that he may has overshared here, the weight of them causing memories to reach through toward his consciousness. Kids’ laughter, a rhythmic sing-song of profanities and slurs, a fist coming down on top of a wooden table with so much force that the plate filled with brown oatmeal shakes from the impact.

It is then that a set of dark brown eyes finally slip away from the Detective’s features, accompanied by the Lieutenant turning around - awkward, evading the look he’s given, showing off his shoulder rather than his vulnerable front as a set of gloved fingers moves and pushes his glasses back along the curve of his nose.

Hiding.

Though most of what he did to become known as ‘the human can opener’ was accidental. Either his so-called ‘cop instinct’ or his limitless, persistent curiousity that while useful in pursuing even the tiniest of leads make his method of detective work even less comprehensible to others than it already is. He definitely doesn’t try to suppress it. Because, deep down, he’s actually really proud of getting to throw people off just by talking at them for a while. Saying whatever comes up in him and watching the confounded faces follow.

It isn’t often that he gets to experience that with Kim. That something he says throws him off so much that it’s actually visible beyond that stone faced mask of his. He’s proud of it for about 2 seconds, until Esprit De Corps notes that, actually. This is definitely not the good kind of thrown off.

And then the words come. It’s rare for Kim to open up like this. Especially about something like that. His childhood. The trauma of living like he has. In the world that they do. Something that Harry has no way of even starting to comprehend. He’s never experienced anything like what he’s saying. He’s been insulted before, of course. But he’s never been made to feel like he’s not at home on the Isola he was born on just for his features. But he knows how cruel kids can be. Knows that they simply repeat what they hear around them without much understanding of what their words actually mean beyond being the most hurtful thing they can think of.

And he doesn’t need to relate to the lieutenant’s experience to see how much it has hurt him. How much it’s still hurting him. The idea that Kim sees himself differently to how Harry sees him is one that is weird to comprehend. But now it’s obvious.

It doesn’t make him back down. If anything, he takes it as a challenge.

Empathy gives its insight, however accurate it may be. He still carries them with him. The insults. They’re absurd and blatantly racist, but if something is repeated at you enough times it’s hard to ignore it. Whatever you do, don’t pretend like you understand.

Before he can think better of it he wraps the smaller man up in a heartfelt bearhug. Still ready to back up if the lieutenant protests it. “ Kids are stupid . This whole world is fucked . “ He mutters. The surprise that was obvious on his face before the hug is still present in his voice, but there’s resignment there too. A silent apology. 

When he pulls back, his expression has changed into something sheepish. “ I may not know a lot - “ He starts, a small chuckle accompanies the words before he turns more serious. “ But I know no kid deserves that shit . Especially not you . “

“ You’re the best Revachol has to offer , lieutenant Kitsuragi . “

[visualc--x32redistributable]

snork mimimimi snork mimimi… after a hard day of stealing sandwiches from elderly men and whatnot

[espritdxcorps]

voltadcmar​:

Concern is written over the Lieutenant’s features - a crease existing in between his sparse, dark brows, not quite able to hide behind the rim of his glasses - as he assesses Harry’s injury, carefully picking away on the soiled bandage that looks more red than white at this point. The blood is not only staining the fabric of his colleague’s pants - peeled out of the way, pooling around his ankles - but also the leather of the Kineema’s seats, which would absolutely bother Kim on any other occasion.

It does not do such a thing now, however. In fact, Kitsuragi couldn’t care less, as the whole of his attention is focused on the fact that Harry is hurt, and there’s that almost overwhelming need of speaking ‘I told you to not run after him’ out loud into the silence surrounding them, only interrupted by the other apologizing for the fourteenth time by now.

“I know.”, is what he says instead, as the Lieutenant pulls off his gloves (they aren’t exactly hygienic, not after what they’ve been through today) and then puts them to the side, the first aid kit next to him offering antiseptic liquid which he uses on his own hands, rubbing it into his skin before starting to peel away the layers of dark reed cloth from a surprisingly strong thigh.

He would have used rubber gloves, but there are none in the kit - he must have used them some other time and forgotten to replace with new ones…

Gaze focused on his task at hand, eyes sharp and alert, fingers nimble and careful as he reveals the gunshot wound Kim’s gotten so familiar with over the last days. The sight does not surprise him, nor does the amount of warm blood staining his fingers as he takes a clean sheet of cotton fabric, then soaks it with the antiseptic solution before pressing it against the ripped stitches (it will sting, but it has to be done).

“—But you also hurt yourself, Detective. The state you’re in does not allow for on-foot-pursuits like this - I told you as much.”

Ah, there it is. I told you. Because the Lieutenant did tell him - scolded him for being so utterly careless before - and here Harry is now, changing his beloved Motor Carriage’s interior to deep red at places.

“It doesn’t matter - we’ll be able to catch him next time. He won’t go far.” The suspect, Kim means. Sighing, he glances up at his colleague through the circular of his lenses, taking in the sight of the other, a somewhat thoughtful expression lingering on his features as a few seconds of silence go to waste between them - checking on him, making sure that Du Bois is as alright as he somehow can be.

“ Ow ow owowowow ! “ Harry cries dramatically as Kim sanitizes his wound. As if the sting of the antiseptic hurts more than the actual gunshot wound does.

Nothing hurts more than Kim’s disappointment though.

He keeps his head down in shame when the moment of silence passes between them. If only this old body of his wasn’t so fragile. The world just needs to keep reminding him that he’s not 30 anymore, doesn’t it? “ I really thought I could get him ... “ Harry repeats, sounding a bit like a sad, kicked dog.

He lifts his head again at Kim’s reassurance. Was it reassurance? Or was he just being pragmatic? Either way it’s enough to make Harry feel better. “ You think so ? “ He asks. Sounding hopeful. If Kim thinks so, it must be true.

Harry hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting around before sheepishly landing on his injury again. “ Hey Kim ? Do you think we could ... Leave this out of the report ? If the guys back at the station find out about this they’ll put me back on desk duty for sure . “ And he only just got cleared for field work again too. The clearance had definitely come too early if it were up to any doctor’s professional opinion in the first place, but their precinct is understaffed. They can’t afford to be careful.

If they hear about this though, he’ll never hear the end of it. Dealing with Kim’s disappointment is bad enough already.

“ Kim ... ? Please ? “

[espritdxcorps]

what do you wish you could say?

"SOMEONE HURT ME AND I WISH THEY WOULD FIX IT."

it doesn't have to be a deep hurt, but someone made you feel horrible. you find yourself composing mental messages to them constantly, yet the thought of sending them makes you feel levels of ill that you didn't know were possible. all you want is to get over this pain and stop thinking about it when you think of them. you can't yet, though, and it feels like a failure.

tagged by: @voltadcmar tagging: my beloved @taaboh and feel free to steal this if u see this

[espritdxcorps]

@lilaxwine sent: ❛ hunger . give my muse something to eat / drink ( Jean for Harry )

Since he returned Harry has been throwing himself at his work tirelessly again. It’s better than sitting at home, itching for a bottle. The more he keeps himself distracted the easier this will all be. Besides, the cases are piling up like crazy in the precinct and he has a lot to make up for. It’s a win win, really.

It’s one such days that’s spent almost entirely at his desk, filling out paperwork. He gets lost in it. Hours blending together where he barely pays any attention to his surroundings until a white take out bag being dropped on his papers pulls him out of it. 

He raises his head. Surprised to see his ex partner looking down at him. He then checks his wrist watch. Already 8 pm already? How is that possible? Though now, at the sight of the bag and the subtle smell of - what’s that - fish and chips? He’s suddenly a lot hungrier than he thought he was just a second ago.

“ Is this ... for me ? “ He asks, raising to his feet and looking more properly inside. You’d recognise those grease spots anywhere. Reaction speed chimes in. The chip shop around the corner. You’ve been going there for so long you remember when a father handed the business down to his daughter. “ From around the corner , right ? Damn . It’s been a while since I’ve had these . What did I do to be blessed like this ? “ The question is posed half-jokingly. But this has genuinely made his day.

[marogarreh]

What if the words are not directed at the people of Martinaise, or even the Coalition aerostatics above the city – they’re meant for something above even those… DISCO ELYSIUM  ▴  21/–

[espritdxcorps]

@trepidaticn said:  ❛   patch . (to Harry) ❛   patch .   help  my  muse  patch  up  a  wound .

“ I’m sorry ... For all this . “ Harry mutters defeatedly. He must’ve apologised at least a dozen times already since Kim had to help drag him back to his Kineema, but he doesn’t know what else to say. Doesn’t want the silence to stretch between them either. His guilt only becomes worse when it does.

It’s his fault the suspect got away after all. Clearly he overestimated how well the gunshot wound in his right thigh had healed when he decided to try to chase down the fleeing man. It’s only been a few days since they returned, and now he’s bleeding again like he did back in that abandoned bunker. Except now he’s ruining the seat covering in Kim’s car.

You were so close to getting him too! Half Light jumps in. But the reality is quite the opposite. Harry’s not a young man anymore by any sense of the word. He could have never kept up with the 20-something even if his wound hadn’t reopened.

As he watches him work it occurs to him that the Lieutenant must have done this after the tribunal as well. Changing his bandaging, making sure it was healing properly. Kim always has his back. It comforts him more than he could ever express in words. 

“ I could’ve had him Kim , I swear ! “

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

“I have no eye for eternity. I know only this world, where May’s light lengthens into June’s long days, and someone I love”

— Robert Cording, from section 2, “June Prayer,” of “Four Prayers,” Image (no. 56, Winter 2007-2008)

[espritdxcorps]

lilaxwine​:

‘And I can promise I’ll be there.’ Him or K- he doesn’t want to bring Kim into this. He still has boundaries. Jean doesn’t want him to have to deal with that whenif it happens. - Checking him for needle marks, trying to get him to calm down, trying to figure out if he needs medical attention, if he fucking overdosed or not. Praying he just drank. His heart pounds thinking about it, his straight face is learned, his steady hands are learned. He’d forgotten about his cigarette, moving it from his lips to sport it between two fingers.

He grits his teeth. Does he have to take this shit? This fucking sorry cop nonsense? “Harrier,” this time it *is* a scold, filled with wary frustration. Partly relayed to him by pointed eyebrows. He wants to walk out, give him a one-finger salute and leave early. It’s all too much, worse; it sounds familiar. “I don’t fucking hate you, Harry– I never did, and I won’t.” The lieutenant tries not to raise his voice, but if he did, he’d be yelling at him (and end up blubbering within the minute.)

He *could’ve* died, and Vic never would’ve been able to forgive himself. Because he let Harry get to that point, because he wasn’t there to take the goddamn bullet. Does he need to tell Harry he would’ve? That he would, still? That he was always the one to pull him back to his feet. He doesn’t want to. It wasn’t some saintly, grandiose shit; he was just trying to look after his partner. Still, Harry acted like he was out to get him, like he already hated him.

'I don’t want to be that again. - I don’t want to let you down.’ This Harry wanted to get better. The old Harry didn’t. He wanted to get worse. There was a *stark* difference. “You’re… welcome in my apartment anytime — when you’re craving — before, or if you want to come over.” He didn’t really have a choice where he went if he got high, drunk, or both. “We can fucking— build aerostatic models, get takeout, go to the gym, anything.” 'Anything is better than waking up to you in that state. Anything is better than hope dying. Anything to be normal.’

“Like I—” Jean shuts his mouth. Harry doesn’t know, he doesn’t want him to know - to worry. He finally lights his cigarette, taking a deep drag before passing the zippo over to Harry, leaning forward in his seat. If he was any closer, he would’ve lit it for him.

“I never fucking. Even in Martinaise, when you told us to fuck off. I came back…I know I fucked up—.” He hesitates before blowing cigarette smoke at the celling. “I shouldn’t have left, came back sooner, regardless of what you said.” He doesn’t apologize, he won’t. Harry pushed him to a fucking limit. But the case should’ve came first. He could’ve prevented people dying- Harry getting hurt. Maybe they’d still be partners.

He manages a hard swallow. “You have me.” Vic would’ve hugged him if he was any closer. Tell him he fucking missed him. Try not to cry into his shoulder.

Jean might not close the gap, but Harry rises from his seat and circles the desk to give his old partner a bone crushing bear hug. The cigarette still resting between his fingers. The man with the sunglasses he met in Martinaise has always been passive aggressive, mean, argumentative. But something inside Harry had no doubt that he wouldn’t abandon him. That same part is not surprised at his heartfelt response now either, despite the backwards signals.

After all, in spite of everything, he is still your half brother. 

He had been angry, in the old village. When they had come to judge him for all he couldn’t remember doing while he stood there bleeding from a wound he got fighting without them. With a solved case and a week of sobriety under his belt. Maybe it had been irresponsible too to leave him in a place as volatile as that. To not remain close enough to offer back up when the tribunal came. But that is something to answer to the dead. Whether they really could have saved Angus, Glen and Theo if they had been there no one can really say. But as far as Harry is concerned, maybe the metaphorical submersion in cold water had been just what he needed to be reborn.

He is still that man he used to be, no matter the amnesia. That’s something he’s having the come to terms with again and again. Something he has to keep fighting not to be again.

“ I am gonna annoy you so much . “ He says. It’s not said apologetically, the opposite really, it’s mischievous almost. With a hint of nostalgia he doesn’t even realise is there until the words have already left his mouth. “ I’m gonna call you at 3 am and ask the stupidest questions . Then hang up without explaining anything . Gonna show up at your door with a boring ass court-métrage to watch and make you make us dinner . “ He releases him, straightens out again. There’s a smile on his face, but his eyes make it seem like he’s about to cry. 

Finally, he takes the zippo from him. Lights the cigarette and takes a drag before handing it back.

“ Gonna make you help me clean my wound and guilt trip you so hard if you complain . “ He adds, leaning against the desk. He glances down at the paperwork. The smile disappears as he remembers the cases he’d read about from his ledger. It was the only real context he had to their partnership back then. After a moment of silence he concludes: “ ... Maybe it’s too late for this ... something ... between us to be perfect . Maybe we’re both fuck ups . “ He opens his mouth to say more, like he wants to offer some extra insight that makes it all more light-hearted. Less final. 

Instead, after a moment of hesitation, he says. “ What’re you working on ? I’m sure Kim wouldn’t get too jealous if I act as your fearless leader again for half a day . “

[kandelyabr55]

I’m a weak woman

[espritdxcorps]

trepidaticn​:

Part of Kim actually deflates at the sight of his colleague struggling with a reply - just standing there, thinking, before admitting that he has no idea, that there simply is nothing he could give as an answer to the question the Lieutenant had asked him in return.

Looking so… lost, all of a sudden. Like he’s been stranded at the side of the road with no one there to pick him up. Abandoned, left behind…

Ah, fuck. Maybe it had been a tad bit mean to deflect a question with another question, all things considered… The thought causes the Lieutenant to take a soft, defeated breath through his nostrils - accompanied by him swallowing, bringing a hand up to his glasses to adjust the seat of them on top of his curved nose. His dark brown eyes flick away for a second before returning to his partner, taking in the sight of his much brighter irises once more, a second of silence passing between them.

And as much as Kitsuragi isn’t a fan of personal questions - even though he’s used to them by now - he actually realizes that it’s only fair of Du Bois to give back a question to Kim’s previous question, turning this whole conversation into one big thing before one of them (Kim, to be precise) gives in and allows a suitable answer to slip over his full lips.

Besides that, Harry is genuinely curious. The Lieutenant is aware of the fact that his colleague remembers his ex-girlfriend, but he doesn’t seem to remember much else than her existence. He’s got a sharp mind, he can come to conclusions when presented with enough information, but those he is lacking of right now - hopes for Kitsuragi to be generous, to offer an insight to the whole homo-sexual deal.

He stands a bit more straight - unwraps his arms from his chest, folds his hands onto the small of his back like he usually does, shifting into a more open and inviting stance rather than the bit more defensive one from a few minutes ago. Then, he sighs - again.

“—Well, yes, obviously.”, he starts right after, finally, his own voice softened up by the turn of events. His expression is neutral, albeit sincere, lacking of any sarcasm or annoyance that could display itself on his features as he continues to look at his partner.

“At one point in my childhood, other kids were starting to get interested in the opposite sex - around when puberty hits, I assume. A few friends of mine used to sneak out on the regular, get their hands on some magazines which they brought back to our place and showed around within our circle, trying to be cool, all of that. There was nothing too explicit in those, but still definitely not meant for innocent eyes - displaying women in varying outfits, the less fabric, the better. —And while everyone got rather excited about those, I never… well, I never felt anything while looking at them.”

A pause follows - Kim brings his hand up to his glasses once more, takes them off, uses the nylon of his bomber jacket to polish his glasses before placing them back onto his face.

“…I did realize, however, that I found the same images quite appealing when I imagined those with men instead of women. I don’t know why I did that, it just happened at some point, while I tried to figure out what’s wrong with me. —That was the point where I realized that I was very much not heterosexual.”

“ That does sound pretty normal . “ Harry comments and nods agreeably. The comment is somehow more directed at himself, though. As if he's agreeing with his own thoughts more than with anything the lieutenant said. “ That’s the times to be figuring that stuff out I guess . Thanks for sharing . ‘ppreciate it . “ He adds, addressing the lieutenant more explicitly.

But see how he dodged your new question by answering the old one so quickly? The lieutenant must think he got out easy. Press him further. Rhetoric continues prodding. Its enjoying this. Harry doesn't see why he shouldn't indulge it. He is really genuinely curious. " You dodged my question though . About the childhood sweetheart . Come on Kim , you know about all my most embarrassing secrets - uh , well , those that I remember anyway - we’re having fun ! Share a school crush story or something . I'm sure your love life must've been so disco . Much more interesting than whatever I had going on back then . “ 

The fifteenth indotribe. Encyclopedia reminds him. Your friends? Once partners in crime. Nothing more than vague memories. You hardly remembered their names and faces anymore before the alcohol ruined you.

You had fun there once. But without the cloud of childhood innocence dulling the reality, nothing about it seems funny anymore. Conceptualization finished the thought.

He shifts his weight and crosses his arms to get a more comfortable stance before he continues. “  A younger you ? With how hot you still look ? I can only imagine how smokin’ you must have been back then . You must've had everyone on their knees to get a shot with you . " The words aren’t even flattery to get him to spill his secrets. He’s completely genuine about the compliments. Says it like he’s stating simple facts. 

But he’s definitely being stubborn about getting the answers he wants out of his friend. Even if he doesn’t completely realise he’s pressing harder than is socially acceptable.

“ In fact . If I were a woman and I’d found out you were a homo , I’d just walk into the ocean . No recovering from that . “ He jokes with a cheeky grin.