"You didn't tell me that when you came to see me Christmas day," he says, hearing the deep hurt in his own voice, surprised and embarrassed by how cut he sounds.
"No, I didn't." He's not proud of it, but he won't deny that he knew better by then, either. The reasons all sound flimsy against the pain he can read as plainly as hear.
"I'm sorry. It didn't even occur to me before, and after - it was past. Nothing happened this year, so I thought... we have another year before it comes up again. We have time."
He pulls his hand away and moves away from the table, to sit on the stairs instead.
Nibbles bats at his hair and he cracks a smile, weak as it is.
"Okay." A year is more than he could hope for back home. So he draws himself back together. K didn't tell him. K could have gone home that night and died and he hadn't told Jesus but that's in the past now.
K doesn't try to hold onto him, but he does turn in his chair to be able to keep watching him, hands in his lap now. Mango is delighted that Jesus comes down to her level, too, and she's temporarily distracted from the cat enough to sidle up to Jesus's side.
"I am too," K offers, but it doesn't feel like enough. Normally he wouldn't try to convince anyone of anything, wouldn't keep talking, but this is Jesus. Maybe his logic doesn't make that much sense after all, but he has to try. "This was year seven for me, and I didn't really think anything would happen - and I don't know what would happen here anyway. Not in a place where we come back." That's not why though.
"Sara started avoiding me based on the idea that I might go missing someday. I was... afraid of what would happen if anyone here learned it as a real possibility." He still is, but he stays in his seat, offers none of the more desperate things he wants to say, how he wants to say them.
My phone doesn't like the word bitching apparently
Mango, excited for attention, immediately licks at Jesus's face, chin, and neck; she's quick to burrow in against his side again, curling up next to his ribs.
K shakes his head as he stands. "That's how it's always been for me," he tries to assure him, settling down again beside him. "I didn't want anyone to have to... deal with that."
"I'm sorry," he says again, not a repetition exactly, but with more understanding. He lifts his arm out of the way, making room for Jesus to sit closer if he wants to after all.
"No one has cared the rest of my life, except Joi. It just didn't... I'm still learning the ways things are different here, where I'm the first replicant."
"You have a right to handle it however you want to. If Christmas comes and you want to be alone, I understand. Just as long as you know that I won't push you away because you might die." He threads their fingers together.
"I'm sure." He draws a breath. "I've had a lot of people die in my life. I can handle that loss better than I could if you pushed me away or left to 'spare' me."
He looks up at K, immediately concerned. "Yeah. Yeah, we're fine." He is wondering how many people K has told. "I'm just going to want to see more of you this year."
"The years seem to go in cycles mostly. Four, six, eight. I wasn't... terribly concerned about last year, unless the city disrupted something. But this year..."
He trails off, looking down at his hands. He's never had anyone to talk to it about before, not that he would talk to about it, which makes it strange.
If he's not very, very careful, he thinks he could lose his mind a bit with this man. He kisses him again, because he has no words for a moment, just this, just himself.
K's other hand slides around his waist, both supporting him,enjoying the solidity of him, and pulling him closer.
Which is, maybe, when the new nut subtle note to this might become more pronounced: he wants to stay here. He wants more of this, wants to be close to Jesus, wants to feel like this and whatever else comes with it for however long he has and then just one moment more.
He wants it, and he's sure he can't have it, not for long enough. So he speaks it up while he can, bittersweet and precious.
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"I'm sorry. It didn't even occur to me before, and after - it was past. Nothing happened this year, so I thought... we have another year before it comes up again. We have time."
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Nibbles bats at his hair and he cracks a smile, weak as it is.
"Okay." A year is more than he could hope for back home. So he draws himself back together. K didn't tell him. K could have gone home that night and died and he hadn't told Jesus but that's in the past now.
Quit and keep moving forward, as they say.
"Okay. We have a year. I'm glad we do."
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"I am too," K offers, but it doesn't feel like enough. Normally he wouldn't try to convince anyone of anything, wouldn't keep talking, but this is Jesus. Maybe his logic doesn't make that much sense after all, but he has to try. "This was year seven for me, and I didn't really think anything would happen - and I don't know what would happen here anyway. Not in a place where we come back." That's not why though.
"Sara started avoiding me based on the idea that I might go missing someday. I was... afraid of what would happen if anyone here learned it as a real possibility." He still is, but he stays in his seat, offers none of the more desperate things he wants to say, how he wants to say them.
My phone doesn't like the word bitching apparently
He stands again, this time carrying Mango, and sits on the sofa. Again he offers his hand to K.
We knew what it was. ~ R. Espinosa
K shakes his head as he stands. "That's how it's always been for me," he tries to assure him, settling down again beside him. "I didn't want anyone to have to... deal with that."
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"It's a sign of love where I'm from, to be with someone as they die. To help make it easier for them."
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"No one has cared the rest of my life, except Joi. It just didn't... I'm still learning the ways things are different here, where I'm the first replicant."
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"You're sure?"
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For those losses, for the fact that he can't change this. That he took so long to say something, that he's afraid that -
"Is it - are we still okay?" Is he going to pull away from K now like Sara did before she knew she had reason?
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He trails off, looking down at his hands. He's never had anyone to talk to it about before, not that he would talk to about it, which makes it strange.
"This year, maybe," he admits.
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He pulls K down to kiss him. "We'll enjoy the year. Okay?"
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He leans in once he's there though, slow and intent. He does his very best to deserve this affection, to reflect it back sevenfold.
And when he's done, he covers Jesus's hand with his own, turns his head to kiss his palm and murmur, "I already am."
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Which is, maybe, when the new nut subtle note to this might become more pronounced: he wants to stay here. He wants more of this, wants to be close to Jesus, wants to feel like this and whatever else comes with it for however long he has and then just one moment more.
He wants it, and he's sure he can't have it, not for long enough. So he speaks it up while he can, bittersweet and precious.
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The salient point is that he wants K and he might not have him next year.
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"Tell me something new you want," he bids him between kisses, easing them both back against the arm of the sofa behind him.
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Another slower kiss.
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"Fuck me face to face."
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Giddy? He holds steady, lets Jesus rub against him as he will, and says again, "Yes I do."
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