There are other ways to get around the translation. Say it slowly, one syllable at a time. [ And, to demonstrate, a recording comes through a moment later. ]
I can think of plenty of things that can be probably hard.
(it's too late
but as he listens, he types. his lips purse to stop himself from smiling again, certain it's inappropriate. sasuke made it clear that he wasn't suited to a relationship. and that it'd be better if he focused on a single person, one bud that bloomed only once some time ago. now stiles is gone, home hopefully where he can see his father again, and he and sasuke have been left alone. until sasuke inevitably leaves, too.
nothing about that kiss was clear.)
I like the way you say my name. There's something cute about Japanese/your language that's like almost dragged out at the end. 3 syllables instead of 2 lol
(the next voice memo begins with a clearing of his throat.)
[ The innuendo, such as it is, sails right over his head without him so much as registering its existence. Perhaps that's for the best; he already enjoys Jonas's company a little too much and taking any aspect of it and making it more flirtatious would only increase that danger. This is not what he was made for. ]
I'll ignore your word choice. [ "Cute"...... ]
I'm focusing on something else you said instead. Your name has two syllables? [ Jo-na-su. Jo... nasu. How. ]
Guwaju. Guwaju... Hard G. Soft G. [ His accent is fainter on the words "hard" and "soft", clearly two he's practiced before, but still the return voice memo is a bit hard to decipher. ]
yk telling me you're ignoring my word choice means you're not actually ignoring it. Lol😭😭
My name is just...... Jo-nus. It's pronounced kinda like that. Or like Jo-nuss. You add an extra vowel on the end. It's alright, most ppl don't even get my actual name right let alone the pronunciation.
Language only has 2 syllables in English, too.
(he'd rather move right along from talking about it. listening to sasuke say "hard" and "soft" isn't going how he thought it'd go. keeping his thoughts general has been increasingly difficult, and on more than one occasion, late at night and unable to ponder anything else, jonas has made himself uncomfortable with his own imagination.
it'll only hurt more later if he indulges himself now. petulantly, he does blame a good portion of it on sasuke training shirtless in the yard.
another voice memo. another quiet, relaxed voice plodding steadily through their routines.)
Jo-nus. Jo-nus. There's a stress on the first part, but with no "ou" sound at the end. Can you hear what I mean? (there's a hum, a shift of blankets, and another mindless filler word.) Uh, same with "language," too, actually. Lang-gwuhj. Maybe it'd be better to practice together. It's easier to watch someone's lips when they do it. You get the whole effect.
[ The recording is played twice for it to be fully absorbed, silent in his assessment of more than just "word choice" and "pronunciation". He doesn't intentionally seek out their bond often, despite his lack of respect for the privacy of others, but he does now. Are there emotions playing harmony to their conversation? Is he comfortable? Content? ]
Yes, I can hear it.
It doesn't come naturally to me so it'll require more work on my part than you might assume. It's fine. The distraction's useful to me.
If you want me to learn more quickly we need to resurrect an older conversation topic. My abilities, and how to regain them. [ An idea that had once been opposed vehemently by Stiles, but in retrospect any bitterness he'd felt at the time has turned into something else. Not quite amusement at memories of the fight, but not far from it. ]
(emotions always play harmony to jonas' conversations, his mind often wide. often lonely even in a crowd of people, he often reaches out subconsciously to sasuke. they discussed the building of mental walls to prevent this, something to protect them both from the other's changing moods. but today is an ordinary day, and he feels comfortable, content, and... affectionate. he never has been able to shake his admiration for sasuke. it's only grown.
his bondmate's lean into their connection surprises him, but he doesn't pull away. instead, he leans back.)
Hey. (a hospitable response typed out to greet him in his occupation of more than a few of his thoughts, cheeks warm.)
You could take all the time in the world and I wouldn't mind. I'm just concerned I'm not the best teacher. Nobody new to English wants to wind up sounding like me.
It must feel weird for you not to have access to all of your powers, huh?
[ There is nothing coming as a follow-up to soften this blow... no, Sasuke lives in reality now. ]
I told you before what you sound like to me. It isn't bad, and I'll adapt what you teach me to my own vulgar style without fail. It's my specialty.
My abilities just make that easier. Not having them has been a challenge from the very beginning. [ And they're now close enough that he can feel comfortable enough to say so. ]
Yeah yeah. I shouldn't mind doing it if you don't mind learning it ig
(a combination of low self-esteem and logic; he's no genius, and he certainly isn't the best at getting his thoughts out. at least it's not for lack of trying.)
I don't really see you as that vulgar though? Like occasionally you'll drop an f-bomb out of nowhere and it's usually comedy gold but I'm probably missing smth
If you wanna teach me more Japanese then I've got all the time in the world, so
[ He pauses, and there's an odd spike of emotion through their bond. No typical heaviness, self-deprecation, or frustration. No, it's true amusement and it comes on too strongly and suddenly for him to try to dampen it in any way. ]
So everyone's been finding me far kinder than I actually am. I must have seemed so polite if that's how it translates my words.
[ The very THOUGHT... but here he has a new student he needs to act serious for, even if those same cursed translations are making it impossible for him to realize his kouhai has already tried a bit of Japanese for him. ]
Then we'll practice more in person; doing it like this is less efficient. What's your schedule today?
(the emotion is a delight to experience, but what's better is that jonas doesn't make a big deal out of it. it's acknowledged with a swell of his own amusement, and encompassing happiness derived specifically from knowing sasuke, at that moment, is, too.)
Wow, so you've actually just been dunking on us this whole time and we've had no idea? I mean, I definitely guessed bc you tease me a lot for totally unwarranted things.
I'm free whenever though tbh. I was gonna go for a run in a bit, but apart from that, our classes are winding down for the upcoming mission in the Wilde and for the homecoming festival after that. I don't even work tonight. This is one sleepy society lol
yk despite all the evil magic disasters. Are you good to meet in like an hour or so? That'll give me time to shower.
Get up and go for the run I was actually acknowledging you for and I'll handle the rest. It's not an issue for me to get into your place whether you're there or not.
to jonas' credit he does what he's told, removing himself from the safe comfort of his bed. before leaving but after dressing down into a loose tank top and sweats, his fingers are pecked and dragged across a permanently shut door. one that leads to stiles' room, kept exactly the same as it'd been when he and itachi were removed from the world, muttering "be back later, man." a private demonstration of affection that's since grown into a ritual. sometimes, alone, he'll chat as though he's there to eddie the iguana's general dismay. it's hard to live by himself when he misses his friend's talkativeness, but he's become far quieter as a result.
they warned him what a severed bond might feel like. jonas wishes he could say that he'd been prepared for it; however, he's come around to acting social in the last few months. sasuke has, of course, been a rock through these phases. just patient enough. just strict enough.
it's given him a heading. more than that, and perhaps unfortunately, it's created a far stronger bond between them. on jonas' end, one that is less chaste than he originally intended it to be, having already had deep admiration for sasuke—before it was only the two of them rattling around in his mind. now, it feels almost impossible to keep from their connection, often apologetic because of it. they talked about it. sasuke made a decision despite the kiss they shared outside of the restaurant: he is not suited to dating. he has to respect that. but damn if it doesn't feel impossible sometimes, especially in lighter moods like the one they indulge in together today, knowing, as he sets out from the cottage at a magic-draining pace, that sasuke will be there when he returns.
he is gone for a little over forty-five minutes. the path around the wall separating them from the wilde and the cwyld is extensive but stops on either side of the cove leading out into the wide ocean beyond. this gives him an almost perfect crescent to run in, hitting the water to jog back along the docks. his body is exhausted when his hand reaches for the front door.)
Hey... uh, ただいま! (a winded greeting in an english-accented japanese, slapping the doorframe to kick off his shoes.
sensing sasuke inside, jonas continues speaking to him from down the hall. his hearing is sharper now, isn't it? whether he's in the kitchen or elsewhere in the cottage, he'll acknowledge him. he always does.)
Sorry, that route took longer than I thought... What's cooking?
[ The timeframe is generous for someone as directed and purposeful as Uchiha Sasuke. Securing nutrition, real nutrition for himself first is paramount, and with the more time he's spent in this world the more refined his blood procurement has become. It keeps his stomach calm while he packs up the rest of the ingredients he requires, setting off on a familiar track that takes him to a familiar home that he lets himself into with as little fuss as predicted. He knows where the magical traps are, after all. He helped set most of them.
"Tadaima".
An expertly sharpened blade cuts through a potato like butter, and he focuses down at the uneven piece he's sliced in momentary confusion. He had been ready to greet Jonas, but instead he finds himself unsettled. When has he heard that word last?
It doesn't require a great deal of thought to come to the natural conclusion that it's been over a decade since he's had cause to expect someone's return to him, to a home even if it isn't his own. The moment, thankfully, passes quickly. ]
"Welcome back." In here. [ Predictably he doesn't raise his voice beyond what's strictly necessary, with the soft clack of a knife against a cutting board to punctuate his words. ]
Sanpeijiru, it's a fish stew. After a run you should have something high in protein, and in a few minutes it'll be ready to be served. [ "Are there guts in it?", Stiles would've asked tactlessly, and he snorts at a memory held amongst many in these walls. He's long since learned not to heed them too strongly. ]
You're bathing before you come in here. [ IT IS NOT A QUESTION ]
(sasuke's voice leads him into the kitchen, jonas immediately greeted by a one-armed shinobi expertly slicing potatoes. a dissertation could be written on how mundane a scene this has become, how they've both gotten used to it in their own way, but the missing limb still makes jonas want to reach out and help.
if only to stabilize the cutting board.
he smiles instead, leaning in the archway. his eyes fall to sasuke's bracelet then his hand.)
I know, I know. (what is wrong with his manly musk? paired with the sanpeijiru's aroma, it's becoming more and more odd the higher it climbs in his nose. alright, he's ripe.) I'll be ten minutes tops. I can set the table when I come down. Cool?
(a pat is issued to the kitchen's inner wall before he retreats. he flaps his shirt as he goes, chilling sweat, but talks, too, even as he gets further and further from sasuke.)
I saw that place you were talking about last week. The, uh—I forgot its name, but it's that café with the good croissants... You're right, I think they're under new management. Their sign is different, I think...!
(with the last of today's information imparted in a hurry upstairs, jonas slips into the washroom. the shower turns on, introducing a sound of white noise from the upper floor over the railing looking down into the living space below it. there was a time when sasuke's world seemed more accessible then, remembering stiles' close call with suigetsu, and his own frightening experience grappling with deidara. it put a few things into perspective for him months ago, though as he stands beneath the hot spray, his mind drifts away from them to focus on a single question: would he be able to fight them off more efficiently now?
after training with sasuke, he could perhaps prevent himself from dying. offensive spells have never needed to be used; however, he learned them regardless of his own feelings on the matter. it'd been a request from his bondmate that he learned. he'd needed to for their relationship to be fair.
soaping up and rinsing off takes a little over ten minutes, too, emerging from the steam in a nostalgic mood. once dressed in a simple t-shirt and a cleaner pair of sweatpants, slippers sasuke bought him are donned and he's back downstairs with a swing off of the railing and a jog into a slow mosey back into the kitchen.)
[ A thoughtful look lends itself to a rare hesitation in a way that makes his expression appear far more youthful, momentarily silent. ]
Ah, Adirias Beans and Bakery...
[ The words are spoken privately to himself before his attention refocuses on his work, each movement precise and measured. Is this what people call "routine"? Unchanging, except for decoration and smells and flavors, new coats of paint on a life he's become accustomed to. It's pleasant, and on some days he even manages to feel less guilty over that fact.
Putting aside his world to remember it in pockets like Jonas does is, of course, impossible, just as he assumes the same would be impossible for his friend in regards to a place like Oregon. This place itself won't let them forget, dragging them through the past and bringing back unwelcome visitors with a frequency that should alarm him more than it does. But oftentimes now there are these experiences. Cooking dinner for someone he cares for. Casual conversation. A shared goal.
Is it okay? ]
I suppose it can't be helped.
[ His work has been completed on autopilot, after all. Three bowls have been set on the counter, one full with rice, one with soup, and the last... well, it's a few spoonfuls, at least, enough to give him a taste and make the meal more collaborative and less a clinical observation.
Speaking of observation... so he's wearing the slippers now? A pair that match his own, similarly dressed down in loose grey pants and a black top. Good. ]
It's Adirias Beans and Bakery. [ ta DAAAA ] Now take these into the dining room. I already put the plate of pickles out, but you're responsible for your own drink.
("i suppose it can't be helped," he mouths back at him, mocking, the moment jonas knows that sasuke is looking. very much a teenager. he smiles after, never able to stay mean, though he doesn't often worry about his friend taking him too seriously.)
You're supposed to say "Order up!" I oughta get you a bell. (an offhanded comment, scooping the bowls up to deposit them on the long, antique table.
stiles had trapped them there once. sat on him and made sasuke watch. there have been good memories here, fun ones, but there are just as many he'd prefer to forget. jonas looks away from the unoccupied chair where he'd been tied and left alone by both monsters, returning to the kitchen to fetch his drink.)
As for my drink... I think I'll have something sugary and bad for me. (muffled, rooting around in the fridge.) Do you wanna go together? To Adirias. They've got pretty healthy breakfasts from what I've seen on their menu.
Perhaps if I were beholden to you as your personal chef I might entertain what you want me to say. But it's strange, I haven't received any payment from you for my services at all yet. [ The harmless challenge is punctuated by a raised brow. That is some high grade salmon you are about to eat, okay. ]
I'll go when it's convenient for both of us. For you, right when you get up, and for me before I go to sleep. [ Of all the challenges being a vampire brings, this is one he hadn't expected to become so problematic. Their schedules are occasionally difficult to align when an activity isn't planned in the early morning or evening, and that limits them both.
A hand settles overtop that fridge door, eyes fixated on Jonas as he lingers all too close just to taint his personal space. With judgment. ]
The profile of the dish is subtle. It pairs well with equally subtle beverages, such as tea or water. "Tea or water". [ In English, even. ]
What about the English lessons? (jonas asks innocently, raising his head. with a start, he quickly withdraws the pitcher of water and a leftover sachet of red liquid that may have been stored there for some time. they may not shy away from being close, but it's never usually at times like these.
both the water and blood are wiggled questioningly, using them as a distraction. he can't blush at so little, humiliated by the very thought.)
C'mon, it's not like I ask you to do this for me every time. You just know I'll get... like... a pizza or something every Friday if you don't. Then suddenly you're gripped by inspiration to cook me fish stew. Or fish and salad. Or braised fish.
(seems like it's always fish. and it always tastes amazing.
the blood winds up on the counter either way, sealed and either ready to ingest or go straight into the garbage if the expiration date is bad. he might as well treat blood bags like cartons of milk now, almost entirely immune to how strange it is that it's now the main selection in sasuke's sparse diet.
closing the fridge, his water is poured, and his shoulder raises for a blasé shrug.)
I'm cool with waking up earlier, too. And I can keep an eye on the weather forecast. It'd be awesome if it rained, like, all next week or something. We could cover a lot of ground.
[ At this distance, he can really smell him. Not that he can't when he's across the room, even with the smell of fish and salted stock in the air, but this close he's able to pick out the distinct scent that is "Jonas" even separated from his shampoo, soap, or the new brand of deodorant he's been using when fresh out of the shower. It's better than the cologne he sometimes covers it with for a night out.
Eyes fixed on Jonas's flicker lower only for a moment, a quick up-down assessment of his friend, before he cuts right back, ] "Japanese lessons".
[ Quid pro quo. ]
I'm not responsible for how seriously you take them. You might start by learning the actual names of all the dishes I've cooked, then you can appreciate both of my efforts at the same time. [ No comment is made on the weather, because somehow even Sasuke realizes how mood dampening it would be for him to chide Jonas for his selfish wish. If it rained it'd be an inconvenience for most, and for what? To allow them to spend more time together than they already do? Instead he wordlessly reaches for that bloody bag, its chilled temperature unappetizing but another compromise he knows he has to make. ]
Is it... [ Here he trails off, a sudden knowing look given to Jonas. Is it human? Is it yours? ]
(looking at sasuke look at him, jonas hurriedly turns his face away. it's to hide what his mind can't, a blooming sense of hyperawareness, and a wish, now common in their bond, that he could shut his own thoughts out.
his voice is quieter, but only just.) San-page-ru. I remember, I remember. Always busting my balls... Learning your language is, like, super important to me. It's tough, and I'm a bad student sometimes, but—
(ears attuned to the varying tones in music, he has the bad habit of applying stresses on words. natural for an english speaker—and frustrating. speaking japanese has been less of a challenge than writing it, though; sasuke would never let him be satisfied with illiteracy. they've gone whole hog.
he glances back to meet sasuke's gaze.)
Oh, no, it's not—that's from a while ago. Rat or something. Definitely an animal, I know that for sure. (water poured, he turns to face him fully, then reaches out to squeeze at the bottom of the bag.) ... I wouldn't give you my blood without your say-so. You know that, right?
[ It's like a door closing in his mind but failing to shut out any sound; it's the desire for privacy rather than any real filter that comes through. How many times has he felt this now? How many more times since Jonas confessed to him? There's a known secret between the two of them and it's long since clawed its way into the very heart of him, nestled in his ribcage where it's kept silent and hidden.
He is far, far better than Jonas is at keeping his end of their bond static. ]
San– No, Jonas. [ NO... ] Sa-n-pe-i-ji-ru. Practice quietly, it's time to eat.
[ And that dinner time is sacred, enough so that it motivates him to want to end two conversations at once. This second one... it's dangerous, and his grip on that bag tightens just to pull it away from Jonas altogether once he moves to sidestep him. He's not quite in the dining room when he begins to slow, however, back to Jonas as his mind tries and fails to ignore the implications of what he's saying. There's a definite offering there, and despite his self-control his reaction through their bond is immediate.
Fear, tension, self-loathing, and somehow strongest and most contentious beneath all of them: longing. He's tasted that blood once before and it was like water in the desert, the satisfaction of a craving he didn't know he had that eased those horrible pains in his body even for a moment and let him experience something truly rejuvenating. He'd felt powerful for the first time since arriving here, and finally sated. ]
... sit. I'll take a little, but next time I'll need to bring something fresh to replace this.
(he does sit, but as he does, he keeps an eye on sasuke. lapses in judgement are few and far between, so he isn't as accustomed to them as he perhaps should be. a subject of conversation they've broached before as a team, coming to no certain conclusion, however.
how could they stop something they have no control over?
for sasuke, it's his hunger. his revulsion at the state he's wound up in, maybe a fear at him developing a more permanent taste for it. for jonas, it's a different kind of the same thing. a desire to taste sasuke's neck but not his blood. a desire to hold sasuke down to subject a hard body to soft kisses, and the intrusive thoughts sometimes last too long. longer than this fleeting lust of sasuke's to drink from him and experience complete satisfaction again.
his mind is so far from practice that blinking back to reality—bowls of food made for him—causes him to jolt.)
Sorry. Sorry... I shouldn't have— (offered? ears burning, cheeks burning, he avoids mentioning what's on his mind in favour of addressing what's physically in front of them.) "Thank you for the food," seriously. It looks amazing. It smells amazing.
(even chopsticks have been mastered, preferring to use them with sasuke. it feels rude not to. more importantly, while he enjoys their differences, he wants to protect parts of his friend's culture. they make less of an abrasive noise against the bowls anyway, jonas eating silently for a moment before picking at a few pickled vegetables.)
If you need help, like, stocking up again, I'm good for it. Like, if we got syringes like before. And you can use the fridge, too, obviously, to store stuff.
[ This is now also becoming part of their "routine". The heavy question that hovers over them both, but Sasuke more often than Jonas these days: do they address it, or do they let it slide? His friend wouldn't apologize if he hadn't borne witness to Sasuke's innermost desires, shameful as they might be, and Sasuke–
Well, what he feels in return is less taboo between them, a sudden physical craving that has him clearing his throat once and, at least briefly, averting his eyes. To say it doesn't stir up an excitement in his own gut would be a lie, though each little thrill that lances its way up his spine is ignored in favor of the promises they'd made to each other. Promises to protect each other, keep each other safe, stay committed to their decisions. Nothing has changed... has it? ]
Don't apologize. [ "Don't address it." ]
... I have some small amounts I've been taking from work, not enough to be noticed. It'll be easier with two bodies instead of just one; eventually even I'll become conspicuous. [ Even me, master of subtlety and staying lowkey.
He reaches for a pickle first, before only then neatly tearing open that blood bag. Ah, it reeks at this age...... ]
The pickles are too sour. I'll make a new batch soon.
(he has yet to become bitter about their arrangement. ashamed, though—he feels ashamed every day. sasuke can lock things down in the breadth of a second, so quick at it sometimes that jonas mistakes his friend's feelings for his own wishful thinking. he'd sooner and more easily believe that his mind is playing tricks on him, or that it's inventing things he'd really like to hear.
without any practice beyond what the coven taught him, jonas' feelings linger. sasuke tells him not to apologize and he hears what goes unsaid with a grab for his water.)
I... I don't know. They taste fine to me. But I like sour things, so...
(it spells trouble when things start to become awkward. tense.
not wanting sasuke to leave prematurely, which is occasionally the necessary solution at times like these, the lonely teenager forces a small smile. a thick swallow may betray him, but that's easy to hide with a bow of his head to refocus on his meal. regular conversation is best, though it sounds scripted to his ears when he's busier shutting his emotions down. were they more regulated when stiles and itachi were present? there were maybe more minds to address and therefore one less to focus fully on.
glancing up from beneath low eyebrows, the blood bag is given a Look.)
You don't have to drink that if it's super gross. It is pretty ancient by now... I just didn't know how long a bag could sit around without going the way of, like... old milk or something.
(strain is cleared from his throat, and he takes a bite of the sanpeijiru.)
Think this is my favourite one yet, actually. This is really good, Sasuke.
[ The stutter is more apparent in the relative silence of the room.
It used to be that Stiles would fill that silence, drumming his fingers or insisting on some other sort of background noise, perpetually in motion and making them both endlessly aware of that fact. But Jonas and Sasuke are both more prone to quiet, able to find peace in stillness even if sometimes things left unsaid are just given more room to grow. ]
Mm. [ The noncommittal noise is uttered when teeth close around the corner of that bag, keeping it held aloft so his now free hand can reach for the metal straw that is now always part of his utensil setting at the table. It's popped unceremoniously into that new torn hole before the bag is taken back in hand, sipped at with one bold mouthful. Somehow he doesn't make a face. ]
It's gross. [ Confirmed. ] But there's nothing wrong with it. If there were, I wouldn't be able to keep it down. Like this... it's more like it's gone stale. It's hard for me to explain it when I haven't experienced an equivalent in the other foods I've eaten.
[ The compliment, however, makes him curious about the bowl in front of him, giving it an appraising look before instead muscling through a bit more of that blood. At least now he knows he'll have a palate cleanser. ]
I'll remember that it was to your taste for next time, even if I'm just competing against pizza and junk... it makes it too easy.
Still, if you're doing it to make me happy, I swear I won't cry over months-old rat blood.
(how he doesn't make a face is beyond him; he can smell it, too, only from across the table. his human senses are hundreds of times more dull than a vampire's. it seems that his only leg up nowadays is temperature regulation, eyes falling to sasuke's hand. his fingers are pale where before they had a tan from hard work done outdoors. and they're chilled to the touch, he knows, intimate with how they felt sinking into the side of his neck.
his fingers stroke unconsciously where the scar tissue of a rough bite lies healed but visible. two holes for two fangs, but torn wider into a shape that's oblong and serrated.)
Work's good, though. Same old, (jonas begins, pairing stew with rice in an even better combo. how does he boil it perfectly every time? any pot he's tried to learn with has become blackened on the bottom or stained embarrassingly in the shape of small grains.) ... Well, actually, they, uh... they want me to do scrolls next. I guess it's... sort of an upgrade from copying ordinary books.
And it's more specialized witch work. (important to note that they didn't care what he was as long as he knew how to read and write. now it seems to matter and they seem to have recognized two years of studies he's completed.)
I'd be restoring, like... scrolls that use branches of magic I'm a bit better at than others.
[ To anyone with lesser knowledge of Uchiha Sasuke it might sound dismissive, but in reality it's anything but. The topic is deeply fascinating to him, not because he has any particular passion for Jonas's work but because he has particular passion for Jonas doing work. ]
So they're truly beginning to acknowledge your efforts. Good, they've taken long enough. Soon you'll find even more uses for your talents. [ And Sasuke will be close by to provide encouragement and continually push him to do more; already he's had to accept – through more than one tense conversation – that Jonas is hardly as ambitious as he believes he could be. Respecting that usually keeps him away from this topic, but now he's glad he asked. Besides, it stems the tide of silence. ]
...
I want to ask you about something else. [ Something worthy of its own introduction. ]
Thanks, (he adds with a half-smile, glancing away from a piece of meaty salmon. sweet, to have someone so staunchly in his corner. a new experience for both of them, maybe.
but it's difficult to ignore the creeping sense of dread that proves itself to be warranted when sasuke moves from praising him to whatever this is. jonas, locked into chewing another spoonful of stew, has to quickly lower his hand to look far busier poking at his meal. ineffectual, though at the very least it serves as a good distraction for the question.)
You know, we're friends. So, like, you can ask whatever without announcing you're going to. (said a bit defensively, regretting it with a roll of his shoulder.) What's up?
[ It's taken years, but his reaction to the word "friends" is minimal. No tension, nothing sharp through their Bond, just a general "on-edge" feeling that precedes hearing a title Jonas has more than earned. For a moment, with that sweet sentiment paired still with a clipped tone, Sasuke doubts himself.
Perhaps it's the wrong time, too obvious after their encounter in the kitchen. But won't it always be obvious? It's a casual inquiry, and it's anything but.
If he tried to walk it back now, Jonas wouldn't forgive him. He'd insist and it would make things worse, so now that he's here there's no logical choice but to press onward. ]
Your dates. [ He lets the two words sit for a moment, digesting them. ] How have they been going?
(fuck, it's the question he expected to be asked. one of three, anyway, and the other two aren't far off the target. something to do with how they're doing or something about his thoughts straying too close to intimate again.
sasuke cares, which frustrates him less. "less," however, is still frustrated.)
They're— (jonas wishes he weren't so useless at stringing a sentence together. already he stammers, and it's always a useable outward reflection for how it affects him on the inside. he hates being so obvious, but sasuke is his bondmate. they are supposed to be honest with one another no matter how humiliating the truth is—and he'll feel it if he lies.)
I don't know. Do we, like... seriously have to talk about that? (a sigh, heavy. he moves a potato around in his bowl.) I'm... I'm not having the best luck. It's just... hard. And that's fine; dating's not my whole life. I'd just rather focus on work right now.
(feeling guilty for nothing, jonas quickly adds:) It's okay, really.
[ Like he does so often, Sasuke watches him. Silent, unable to provide any sort of reassurance that might make an answer come easier or a deflection simpler to accept. He wants to hear the truth and soothing him into a lesser version of it is against his interests. So selfishly, he allows him to flounder.
And more importantly and perhaps intrusively, he focuses on their Bond. Tension, reluctance, embarrassment... all familiar key players in discussions like this one. ]
We don't have to. However, I believe we should.
I don't believe it's your whole life, but it's an important part of it. [ It's an important part of their interactions with one another. Things are less complicated when Jonas has had a date that's gone well for him, excited even briefly about someone new before it changes. All Sasuke wants is for him to be happy. This? Isn't happy, not really. ]
It may be hard, but that doesn't mean you can't talk to me about something negative.
(lowering his spoon to the table altogether, jonas responds first to the feeling of being studied.) Okay, but you're staring at me and the inside of my head like I'm a weird... bug or something. Can you... like... back off?
(it's a line drawn, but more than that, it's a segue.)
You know why I— (sucking in a little breath, he finds his courage—something he has in spades though less when it comes to being vulnerable about romance—to address what this really is.) It's not about negativity or whatever, we talk about plenty of negative stuff together. And we're really good at that. But you're not this naive.
[ Two direct confrontations at once. An order to stand down, and a challenge to his intentions.
"You're not this naive." When it comes to why the topic is uncomfortable? No, of course not. However... ]
Jonas, I'm your bondmate.
If it should be obvious to me why it's hard, it should be obvious to you why I need to ask. I thought it would be easier if I spared you my explanation, but I can go into more detail.
Yeah, it is obvious. That's the entire—That's why I'm— (hands are raised, and his mouth remains open as though the words will simply spill out of him.
they never do.
hackles up, he tries to calm down before addressing the problem again. this requires him to breathe into the silence, regretting how red his cheeks have gotten with this uptick in blood pressure.)
I'm trying. It's just... not working. I'm sorry you have to deal with it, I-I don't know. (deflating as quickly as he normally does, no longer negatively affected by toxic build-ups of excess magic, jonas lowers his spoon and abandons it entirely.) You're important to me. I'm really trying. Everyone I meet feels... like, fake or something. Or maybe... I'm being fake.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Probably hard? Things can't be probably hard.
[ Please never quote me out of context. ]
There are other ways to get around the translation. Say it slowly, one syllable at a time. [ And, to demonstrate, a recording comes through a moment later. ]
Jo-na-su.
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(it's too late
but as he listens, he types. his lips purse to stop himself from smiling again, certain it's inappropriate. sasuke made it clear that he wasn't suited to a relationship. and that it'd be better if he focused on a single person, one bud that bloomed only once some time ago. now stiles is gone, home hopefully where he can see his father again, and he and sasuke have been left alone. until sasuke inevitably leaves, too.
nothing about that kiss was clear.)
I like the way you say my name. There's something cute about Japanese/your language that's like almost dragged out at the end. 3 syllables instead of 2 lol
(the next voice memo begins with a clearing of his throat.)
Lang-gwuhj. Lang-gwuhj. How about that?
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I'll ignore your word choice. [ "Cute"...... ]
I'm focusing on something else you said instead. Your name has two syllables? [ Jo-na-su. Jo... nasu. How. ]
Guwaju. Guwaju... Hard G. Soft G. [ His accent is fainter on the words "hard" and "soft", clearly two he's practiced before, but still the return voice memo is a bit hard to decipher. ]
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My name is just...... Jo-nus. It's pronounced kinda like that. Or like Jo-nuss. You add an extra vowel on the end. It's alright, most ppl don't even get my actual name right let alone the pronunciation.
Language only has 2 syllables in English, too.
(he'd rather move right along from talking about it. listening to sasuke say "hard" and "soft" isn't going how he thought it'd go. keeping his thoughts general has been increasingly difficult, and on more than one occasion, late at night and unable to ponder anything else, jonas has made himself uncomfortable with his own imagination.
it'll only hurt more later if he indulges himself now. petulantly, he does blame a good portion of it on sasuke training shirtless in the yard.
another voice memo. another quiet, relaxed voice plodding steadily through their routines.)
Jo-nus. Jo-nus. There's a stress on the first part, but with no "ou" sound at the end. Can you hear what I mean? (there's a hum, a shift of blankets, and another mindless filler word.) Uh, same with "language," too, actually. Lang-gwuhj. Maybe it'd be better to practice together. It's easier to watch someone's lips when they do it. You get the whole effect.
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Yes, I can hear it.
It doesn't come naturally to me so it'll require more work on my part than you might assume. It's fine. The distraction's useful to me.
If you want me to learn more quickly we need to resurrect an older conversation topic. My abilities, and how to regain them. [ An idea that had once been opposed vehemently by Stiles, but in retrospect any bitterness he'd felt at the time has turned into something else. Not quite amusement at memories of the fight, but not far from it. ]
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his bondmate's lean into their connection surprises him, but he doesn't pull away. instead, he leans back.)
Hey. (a hospitable response typed out to greet him in his occupation of more than a few of his thoughts, cheeks warm.)
You could take all the time in the world and I wouldn't mind. I'm just concerned I'm not the best teacher. Nobody new to English wants to wind up sounding like me.
It must feel weird for you not to have access to all of your powers, huh?
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[ There is nothing coming as a follow-up to soften this blow... no, Sasuke lives in reality now. ]
I told you before what you sound like to me. It isn't bad, and I'll adapt what you teach me to my own vulgar style without fail. It's my specialty.
My abilities just make that easier. Not having them has been a challenge from the very beginning. [ And they're now close enough that he can feel comfortable enough to say so. ]
Should I teach you more Japanese?
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(a combination of low self-esteem and logic; he's no genius, and he certainly isn't the best at getting his thoughts out. at least it's not for lack of trying.)
I don't really see you as that vulgar though? Like occasionally you'll drop an f-bomb out of nowhere and it's usually comedy gold but I'm probably missing smth
If you wanna teach me more Japanese then I've got all the time in the world, so
いくぞ lol
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[ He pauses, and there's an odd spike of emotion through their bond. No typical heaviness, self-deprecation, or frustration. No, it's true amusement and it comes on too strongly and suddenly for him to try to dampen it in any way. ]
So everyone's been finding me far kinder than I actually am. I must have seemed so polite if that's how it translates my words.
[ The very THOUGHT... but here he has a new student he needs to act serious for, even if those same cursed translations are making it impossible for him to realize his kouhai has already tried a bit of Japanese for him. ]
Then we'll practice more in person; doing it like this is less efficient. What's your schedule today?
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Wow, so you've actually just been dunking on us this whole time and we've had no idea? I mean, I definitely guessed bc you tease me a lot for totally unwarranted things.
I'm free whenever though tbh. I was gonna go for a run in a bit, but apart from that, our classes are winding down for the upcoming mission in the Wilde and for the homecoming festival after that. I don't even work tonight. This is one sleepy society lol
yk despite all the evil magic disasters. Are you good to meet in like an hour or so? That'll give me time to shower.
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[ It's teasing. ]
An hour should be sufficient. And since your industriousness should be rewarded, I'll come to you.
Have you eaten?
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(it's teasing.)
I haven't eaten per se, but I am getting fat and happy off your "industriousness" compliment when I was just lying here looking at rocks sooooo
You want to get takeout?
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Get up and go for the run I was actually acknowledging you for and I'll handle the rest. It's not an issue for me to get into your place whether you're there or not.
[ Please shower upstairs. ]
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to jonas' credit he does what he's told, removing himself from the safe comfort of his bed. before leaving but after dressing down into a loose tank top and sweats, his fingers are pecked and dragged across a permanently shut door. one that leads to stiles' room, kept exactly the same as it'd been when he and itachi were removed from the world, muttering "be back later, man." a private demonstration of affection that's since grown into a ritual. sometimes, alone, he'll chat as though he's there to eddie the iguana's general dismay. it's hard to live by himself when he misses his friend's talkativeness, but he's become far quieter as a result.
they warned him what a severed bond might feel like. jonas wishes he could say that he'd been prepared for it; however, he's come around to acting social in the last few months. sasuke has, of course, been a rock through these phases. just patient enough. just strict enough.
it's given him a heading. more than that, and perhaps unfortunately, it's created a far stronger bond between them. on jonas' end, one that is less chaste than he originally intended it to be, having already had deep admiration for sasuke—before it was only the two of them rattling around in his mind. now, it feels almost impossible to keep from their connection, often apologetic because of it. they talked about it. sasuke made a decision despite the kiss they shared outside of the restaurant: he is not suited to dating. he has to respect that. but damn if it doesn't feel impossible sometimes, especially in lighter moods like the one they indulge in together today, knowing, as he sets out from the cottage at a magic-draining pace, that sasuke will be there when he returns.
he is gone for a little over forty-five minutes. the path around the wall separating them from the wilde and the cwyld is extensive but stops on either side of the cove leading out into the wide ocean beyond. this gives him an almost perfect crescent to run in, hitting the water to jog back along the docks. his body is exhausted when his hand reaches for the front door.)
Hey... uh, ただいま! (a winded greeting in an english-accented japanese, slapping the doorframe to kick off his shoes.
sensing sasuke inside, jonas continues speaking to him from down the hall. his hearing is sharper now, isn't it? whether he's in the kitchen or elsewhere in the cottage, he'll acknowledge him. he always does.)
Sorry, that route took longer than I thought... What's cooking?
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"Tadaima".
An expertly sharpened blade cuts through a potato like butter, and he focuses down at the uneven piece he's sliced in momentary confusion. He had been ready to greet Jonas, but instead he finds himself unsettled. When has he heard that word last?
It doesn't require a great deal of thought to come to the natural conclusion that it's been over a decade since he's had cause to expect someone's return to him, to a home even if it isn't his own. The moment, thankfully, passes quickly. ]
"Welcome back." In here. [ Predictably he doesn't raise his voice beyond what's strictly necessary, with the soft clack of a knife against a cutting board to punctuate his words. ]
Sanpeijiru, it's a fish stew. After a run you should have something high in protein, and in a few minutes it'll be ready to be served. [ "Are there guts in it?", Stiles would've asked tactlessly, and he snorts at a memory held amongst many in these walls. He's long since learned not to heed them too strongly. ]
You're bathing before you come in here. [ IT IS NOT A QUESTION ]
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if only to stabilize the cutting board.
he smiles instead, leaning in the archway. his eyes fall to sasuke's bracelet then his hand.)
I know, I know. (what is wrong with his manly musk? paired with the sanpeijiru's aroma, it's becoming more and more odd the higher it climbs in his nose. alright, he's ripe.) I'll be ten minutes tops. I can set the table when I come down. Cool?
(a pat is issued to the kitchen's inner wall before he retreats. he flaps his shirt as he goes, chilling sweat, but talks, too, even as he gets further and further from sasuke.)
I saw that place you were talking about last week. The, uh—I forgot its name, but it's that café with the good croissants... You're right, I think they're under new management. Their sign is different, I think...!
(with the last of today's information imparted in a hurry upstairs, jonas slips into the washroom. the shower turns on, introducing a sound of white noise from the upper floor over the railing looking down into the living space below it. there was a time when sasuke's world seemed more accessible then, remembering stiles' close call with suigetsu, and his own frightening experience grappling with deidara. it put a few things into perspective for him months ago, though as he stands beneath the hot spray, his mind drifts away from them to focus on a single question: would he be able to fight them off more efficiently now?
after training with sasuke, he could perhaps prevent himself from dying. offensive spells have never needed to be used; however, he learned them regardless of his own feelings on the matter. it'd been a request from his bondmate that he learned. he'd needed to for their relationship to be fair.
soaping up and rinsing off takes a little over ten minutes, too, emerging from the steam in a nostalgic mood. once dressed in a simple t-shirt and a cleaner pair of sweatpants, slippers sasuke bought him are donned and he's back downstairs with a swing off of the railing and a jog into a slow mosey back into the kitchen.)
May I enter your kitchen now, chef?
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Ah, Adirias Beans and Bakery...
[ The words are spoken privately to himself before his attention refocuses on his work, each movement precise and measured. Is this what people call "routine"? Unchanging, except for decoration and smells and flavors, new coats of paint on a life he's become accustomed to. It's pleasant, and on some days he even manages to feel less guilty over that fact.
Putting aside his world to remember it in pockets like Jonas does is, of course, impossible, just as he assumes the same would be impossible for his friend in regards to a place like Oregon. This place itself won't let them forget, dragging them through the past and bringing back unwelcome visitors with a frequency that should alarm him more than it does. But oftentimes now there are these experiences. Cooking dinner for someone he cares for. Casual conversation. A shared goal.
Is it okay? ]
I suppose it can't be helped.
[ His work has been completed on autopilot, after all. Three bowls have been set on the counter, one full with rice, one with soup, and the last... well, it's a few spoonfuls, at least, enough to give him a taste and make the meal more collaborative and less a clinical observation.
Speaking of observation... so he's wearing the slippers now? A pair that match his own, similarly dressed down in loose grey pants and a black top. Good. ]
It's Adirias Beans and Bakery. [ ta DAAAA ] Now take these into the dining room. I already put the plate of pickles out, but you're responsible for your own drink.
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You're supposed to say "Order up!" I oughta get you a bell. (an offhanded comment, scooping the bowls up to deposit them on the long, antique table.
stiles had trapped them there once. sat on him and made sasuke watch. there have been good memories here, fun ones, but there are just as many he'd prefer to forget. jonas looks away from the unoccupied chair where he'd been tied and left alone by both monsters, returning to the kitchen to fetch his drink.)
As for my drink... I think I'll have something sugary and bad for me. (muffled, rooting around in the fridge.) Do you wanna go together? To Adirias. They've got pretty healthy breakfasts from what I've seen on their menu.
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Perhaps if I were beholden to you as your personal chef I might entertain what you want me to say. But it's strange, I haven't received any payment from you for my services at all yet. [ The harmless challenge is punctuated by a raised brow. That is some high grade salmon you are about to eat, okay. ]
I'll go when it's convenient for both of us. For you, right when you get up, and for me before I go to sleep. [ Of all the challenges being a vampire brings, this is one he hadn't expected to become so problematic. Their schedules are occasionally difficult to align when an activity isn't planned in the early morning or evening, and that limits them both.
A hand settles overtop that fridge door, eyes fixated on Jonas as he lingers all too close just to taint his personal space. With judgment. ]
The profile of the dish is subtle. It pairs well with equally subtle beverages, such as tea or water. "Tea or water". [ In English, even. ]
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both the water and blood are wiggled questioningly, using them as a distraction. he can't blush at so little, humiliated by the very thought.)
C'mon, it's not like I ask you to do this for me every time. You just know I'll get... like... a pizza or something every Friday if you don't. Then suddenly you're gripped by inspiration to cook me fish stew. Or fish and salad. Or braised fish.
(seems like it's always fish. and it always tastes amazing.
the blood winds up on the counter either way, sealed and either ready to ingest or go straight into the garbage if the expiration date is bad. he might as well treat blood bags like cartons of milk now, almost entirely immune to how strange it is that it's now the main selection in sasuke's sparse diet.
closing the fridge, his water is poured, and his shoulder raises for a blasé shrug.)
I'm cool with waking up earlier, too. And I can keep an eye on the weather forecast. It'd be awesome if it rained, like, all next week or something. We could cover a lot of ground.
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Eyes fixed on Jonas's flicker lower only for a moment, a quick up-down assessment of his friend, before he cuts right back, ] "Japanese lessons".
[ Quid pro quo. ]
I'm not responsible for how seriously you take them. You might start by learning the actual names of all the dishes I've cooked, then you can appreciate both of my efforts at the same time. [ No comment is made on the weather, because somehow even Sasuke realizes how mood dampening it would be for him to chide Jonas for his selfish wish. If it rained it'd be an inconvenience for most, and for what? To allow them to spend more time together than they already do? Instead he wordlessly reaches for that bloody bag, its chilled temperature unappetizing but another compromise he knows he has to make. ]
Is it... [ Here he trails off, a sudden knowing look given to Jonas. Is it human? Is it yours? ]
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his voice is quieter, but only just.) San-page-ru. I remember, I remember. Always busting my balls... Learning your language is, like, super important to me. It's tough, and I'm a bad student sometimes, but—
(ears attuned to the varying tones in music, he has the bad habit of applying stresses on words. natural for an english speaker—and frustrating. speaking japanese has been less of a challenge than writing it, though; sasuke would never let him be satisfied with illiteracy. they've gone whole hog.
he glances back to meet sasuke's gaze.)
Oh, no, it's not—that's from a while ago. Rat or something. Definitely an animal, I know that for sure. (water poured, he turns to face him fully, then reaches out to squeeze at the bottom of the bag.) ... I wouldn't give you my blood without your say-so. You know that, right?
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He is far, far better than Jonas is at keeping his end of their bond static. ]
San– No, Jonas. [ NO... ] Sa-n-pe-i-ji-ru. Practice quietly, it's time to eat.
[ And that dinner time is sacred, enough so that it motivates him to want to end two conversations at once. This second one... it's dangerous, and his grip on that bag tightens just to pull it away from Jonas altogether once he moves to sidestep him. He's not quite in the dining room when he begins to slow, however, back to Jonas as his mind tries and fails to ignore the implications of what he's saying. There's a definite offering there, and despite his self-control his reaction through their bond is immediate.
Fear, tension, self-loathing, and somehow strongest and most contentious beneath all of them: longing. He's tasted that blood once before and it was like water in the desert, the satisfaction of a craving he didn't know he had that eased those horrible pains in his body even for a moment and let him experience something truly rejuvenating. He'd felt powerful for the first time since arriving here, and finally sated. ]
... sit. I'll take a little, but next time I'll need to bring something fresh to replace this.
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how could they stop something they have no control over?
for sasuke, it's his hunger. his revulsion at the state he's wound up in, maybe a fear at him developing a more permanent taste for it. for jonas, it's a different kind of the same thing. a desire to taste sasuke's neck but not his blood. a desire to hold sasuke down to subject a hard body to soft kisses, and the intrusive thoughts sometimes last too long. longer than this fleeting lust of sasuke's to drink from him and experience complete satisfaction again.
his mind is so far from practice that blinking back to reality—bowls of food made for him—causes him to jolt.)
Sorry. Sorry... I shouldn't have— (offered? ears burning, cheeks burning, he avoids mentioning what's on his mind in favour of addressing what's physically in front of them.) "Thank you for the food," seriously. It looks amazing. It smells amazing.
(even chopsticks have been mastered, preferring to use them with sasuke. it feels rude not to. more importantly, while he enjoys their differences, he wants to protect parts of his friend's culture. they make less of an abrasive noise against the bowls anyway, jonas eating silently for a moment before picking at a few pickled vegetables.)
If you need help, like, stocking up again, I'm good for it. Like, if we got syringes like before. And you can use the fridge, too, obviously, to store stuff.
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Well, what he feels in return is less taboo between them, a sudden physical craving that has him clearing his throat once and, at least briefly, averting his eyes. To say it doesn't stir up an excitement in his own gut would be a lie, though each little thrill that lances its way up his spine is ignored in favor of the promises they'd made to each other. Promises to protect each other, keep each other safe, stay committed to their decisions. Nothing has changed... has it? ]
Don't apologize. [ "Don't address it." ]
... I have some small amounts I've been taking from work, not enough to be noticed. It'll be easier with two bodies instead of just one; eventually even I'll become conspicuous. [ Even me, master of subtlety and staying lowkey.
He reaches for a pickle first, before only then neatly tearing open that blood bag. Ah, it reeks at this age...... ]
The pickles are too sour. I'll make a new batch soon.
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without any practice beyond what the coven taught him, jonas' feelings linger. sasuke tells him not to apologize and he hears what goes unsaid with a grab for his water.)
I... I don't know. They taste fine to me. But I like sour things, so...
(it spells trouble when things start to become awkward. tense.
not wanting sasuke to leave prematurely, which is occasionally the necessary solution at times like these, the lonely teenager forces a small smile. a thick swallow may betray him, but that's easy to hide with a bow of his head to refocus on his meal. regular conversation is best, though it sounds scripted to his ears when he's busier shutting his emotions down. were they more regulated when stiles and itachi were present? there were maybe more minds to address and therefore one less to focus fully on.
glancing up from beneath low eyebrows, the blood bag is given a Look.)
You don't have to drink that if it's super gross. It is pretty ancient by now... I just didn't know how long a bag could sit around without going the way of, like... old milk or something.
(strain is cleared from his throat, and he takes a bite of the sanpeijiru.)
Think this is my favourite one yet, actually. This is really good, Sasuke.
1/3
It used to be that Stiles would fill that silence, drumming his fingers or insisting on some other sort of background noise, perpetually in motion and making them both endlessly aware of that fact. But Jonas and Sasuke are both more prone to quiet, able to find peace in stillness even if sometimes things left unsaid are just given more room to grow. ]
Mm. [ The noncommittal noise is uttered when teeth close around the corner of that bag, keeping it held aloft so his now free hand can reach for the metal straw that is now always part of his utensil setting at the table. It's popped unceremoniously into that new torn hole before the bag is taken back in hand, sipped at with one bold mouthful. Somehow he doesn't make a face. ]
It's gross. [ Confirmed. ] But there's nothing wrong with it. If there were, I wouldn't be able to keep it down. Like this... it's more like it's gone stale. It's hard for me to explain it when I haven't experienced an equivalent in the other foods I've eaten.
[ The compliment, however, makes him curious about the bowl in front of him, giving it an appraising look before instead muscling through a bit more of that blood. At least now he knows he'll have a palate cleanser. ]
I'll remember that it was to your taste for next time, even if I'm just competing against pizza and junk... it makes it too easy.
2/3
3/3
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(how he doesn't make a face is beyond him; he can smell it, too, only from across the table. his human senses are hundreds of times more dull than a vampire's. it seems that his only leg up nowadays is temperature regulation, eyes falling to sasuke's hand. his fingers are pale where before they had a tan from hard work done outdoors. and they're chilled to the touch, he knows, intimate with how they felt sinking into the side of his neck.
his fingers stroke unconsciously where the scar tissue of a rough bite lies healed but visible. two holes for two fangs, but torn wider into a shape that's oblong and serrated.)
Work's good, though. Same old, (jonas begins, pairing stew with rice in an even better combo. how does he boil it perfectly every time? any pot he's tried to learn with has become blackened on the bottom or stained embarrassingly in the shape of small grains.) ... Well, actually, they, uh... they want me to do scrolls next. I guess it's... sort of an upgrade from copying ordinary books.
And it's more specialized witch work. (important to note that they didn't care what he was as long as he knew how to read and write. now it seems to matter and they seem to have recognized two years of studies he's completed.)
I'd be restoring, like... scrolls that use branches of magic I'm a bit better at than others.
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[ To anyone with lesser knowledge of Uchiha Sasuke it might sound dismissive, but in reality it's anything but. The topic is deeply fascinating to him, not because he has any particular passion for Jonas's work but because he has particular passion for Jonas doing work. ]
So they're truly beginning to acknowledge your efforts. Good, they've taken long enough. Soon you'll find even more uses for your talents. [ And Sasuke will be close by to provide encouragement and continually push him to do more; already he's had to accept – through more than one tense conversation – that Jonas is hardly as ambitious as he believes he could be. Respecting that usually keeps him away from this topic, but now he's glad he asked. Besides, it stems the tide of silence. ]
...
I want to ask you about something else. [ Something worthy of its own introduction. ]
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Thanks, (he adds with a half-smile, glancing away from a piece of meaty salmon. sweet, to have someone so staunchly in his corner. a new experience for both of them, maybe.
but it's difficult to ignore the creeping sense of dread that proves itself to be warranted when sasuke moves from praising him to whatever this is. jonas, locked into chewing another spoonful of stew, has to quickly lower his hand to look far busier poking at his meal. ineffectual, though at the very least it serves as a good distraction for the question.)
You know, we're friends. So, like, you can ask whatever without announcing you're going to. (said a bit defensively, regretting it with a roll of his shoulder.) What's up?
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Perhaps it's the wrong time, too obvious after their encounter in the kitchen. But won't it always be obvious? It's a casual inquiry, and it's anything but.
If he tried to walk it back now, Jonas wouldn't forgive him. He'd insist and it would make things worse, so now that he's here there's no logical choice but to press onward. ]
Your dates. [ He lets the two words sit for a moment, digesting them. ] How have they been going?
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sasuke cares, which frustrates him less. "less," however, is still frustrated.)
They're— (jonas wishes he weren't so useless at stringing a sentence together. already he stammers, and it's always a useable outward reflection for how it affects him on the inside. he hates being so obvious, but sasuke is his bondmate. they are supposed to be honest with one another no matter how humiliating the truth is—and he'll feel it if he lies.)
I don't know. Do we, like... seriously have to talk about that? (a sigh, heavy. he moves a potato around in his bowl.) I'm... I'm not having the best luck. It's just... hard. And that's fine; dating's not my whole life. I'd just rather focus on work right now.
(feeling guilty for nothing, jonas quickly adds:) It's okay, really.
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And more importantly and perhaps intrusively, he focuses on their Bond. Tension, reluctance, embarrassment... all familiar key players in discussions like this one. ]
We don't have to. However, I believe we should.
I don't believe it's your whole life, but it's an important part of it. [ It's an important part of their interactions with one another. Things are less complicated when Jonas has had a date that's gone well for him, excited even briefly about someone new before it changes. All Sasuke wants is for him to be happy. This? Isn't happy, not really. ]
It may be hard, but that doesn't mean you can't talk to me about something negative.
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(it's a line drawn, but more than that, it's a segue.)
You know why I— (sucking in a little breath, he finds his courage—something he has in spades though less when it comes to being vulnerable about romance—to address what this really is.) It's not about negativity or whatever, we talk about plenty of negative stuff together. And we're really good at that. But you're not this naive.
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"You're not this naive." When it comes to why the topic is uncomfortable? No, of course not. However... ]
Jonas, I'm your bondmate.
If it should be obvious to me why it's hard, it should be obvious to you why I need to ask. I thought it would be easier if I spared you my explanation, but I can go into more detail.
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they never do.
hackles up, he tries to calm down before addressing the problem again. this requires him to breathe into the silence, regretting how red his cheeks have gotten with this uptick in blood pressure.)
I'm trying. It's just... not working. I'm sorry you have to deal with it, I-I don't know. (deflating as quickly as he normally does, no longer negatively affected by toxic build-ups of excess magic, jonas lowers his spoon and abandons it entirely.) You're important to me. I'm really trying. Everyone I meet feels... like, fake or something. Or maybe... I'm being fake.
Are you okay? Like... what's on your mind?