listen puppet boy, before you disobey

[generationlost]

There's a knock at the door.

The sound is startling, makes Ranboo suddenly bolt upright from where they'd been lounging on the couch.

Knock-knock.

They pick themselves up from the couch and, as quietly as possible, they creep out of the room, searching frantically for somewhere to hide; his frame is much too long to tuck away into a cabinet or something, but he does, with some internal amusement at the joke, find a closet to tuck himself away into. Thankfully the swords in there aren't taking up too much space.

Knock knock, Dirk! There's a knock at the door!

Comments

[generationlost]

... that's right.

It feels like it was a lifetime ago now. Ranboo, beaten half to death, sprawled on Dirk's floor as the latter carefully cut away the mask-- let them feel fresh air on the face for the first time in... they don't know how long. How that felt-- freedom. For a single soaring moment, they felt free.

And then reality came crashing down around them.

Even so, that moment of recollection, of perspective does quiet Ranboo down finally-- their gaze drops thoughtfully, some of the anger fading from their face, instead replaced with something more thoughtful, almost sad.

"... yeah," they finally say, their voice softened now at its edges, lacking the wounded, angry edge from before. "Yeah. Okay."

It isn't a sarcastic response in the least. It's easy to feel like this must be hell... but the reminder of what they were running away from, of what came before is grounding. This might be hell for a regular person, but... for Ranboo, it's still, comparatively, freedom.

The sick pit of anger and disappointment still lingers, the pain of Dirk's betrayal of their trust... but at least they aren't trapped inside of the mall any longer. At least there's that.

[themostempty]

"Good man." Dirk voices his approval the only way he really knows how. Praise, the way he'd want to hear it.

He doesn't relax now, either, but he's glad to see Ranboo letting go of some of his... whatever it is that has him convinced that his is a tortured existence. Which it is, maybe. But it's not that bad, from where Dirk is sitting. Ranboo just isn't conditioned to it, yet. The looming threat of losing for real, knowing that it's coming, that it will come sooner or later and there's nothing you can do about it except push it back. To fight against it until ultimately you go to fight it and this time it wins.

It's not a great life, but for Dirk, that's what life is and he's always known that. It's less fair in Ranboo's case, though. As far as Dirk can tell, nothing about Ranboo earned this, or warrants it at all. He's never done anything except want to be free. Free from something he doesn't seem to have agreed to, and Dirk doesn't see anything inherently present in Ranboo that suggests it's needed or deserved. Maybe that's what keeps sticking in Ranboo's brain. The unfairness.

But if so, that's just... too bad. There's nothing anyone can do about that.

He sighs, tired of thinking about this already. Holding out until Ranboo stopped crying was bad enough.

"You ready to eat something? Or do you need to talk about your feelings some more?"