that one time travel psl

[eyediot]

sad bad end s5 jon and tim on a monster road trip



[Algric had given the trio a fair warning of what was happening. Not the specific details of what he was coming from, but he was from a little further along Algric's timeline, and came through Hilltop Road. Never pleasant, but he's here now. IT took a few days of settling, readjusting, and putting some firm self-imposed boundaries on himself before Jon felt comfortable enough to see the others.

After a few minutes of surprise and staring, Jon ends up sitting alone with Tim for a few minutes; the others having some things to take care of themselves. He sits there, fiddling a bit with his fingers, trying not to be self conscious. He can't do anything about the myriad of different, newer scars, nor about his black sclera or so many other things about himself now.

But god... Tim. Alive and not shouting at him right this second. How novel.]

Tim... I.. [Where does he even start.]

Comments

[eyediot]

[With the confirmation Algric's been here before, Jonah feels a bit better about it.]

All right! Good. [He doesn't intend to go to a sale rack. And he can at least guess at Algric's size to get something decent.] Um. Lead the way?

[curriculum_fictae]

Right. Um -

[ He leads the way! Meandering generally towards said sales rack, but not too forcefully. Jonah's shopping for himself too, after all, and the prices here are decent enough that he finds himself stopping by little display of t-shirts with some geeky designs on them. ]

[eyediot]

[He gets caught up here and there at some racks with button downs until he finds the solid colors. Grabs a few white shirts.... and one black.

But he finds Algric again, looking at... nerd shirts. Smiles a little, it's cute.]

Find something?

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Look. Look. Algric has been known to occasionally wear them during their Archive social events. Not often, and usually under a button up cardigan still. But. Clearly he has a soft spot.

He jolts a bit, guilty. ]

O-oh, ah. I was just. You know, trying to remember the last time I played a video game.

[ He's looking at a Kirby t-shirt. It's adorable. ]

[eyediot]

[And Algric would be adorable in it. So into the arm-pile it goes without a thought.]

There's still your things at the flat, right? Could always go get it.

[curriculum_fictae]

W-well yes, but they're not my things, and -

[ He flushes a bit as Jonah casually grabs the shirt. ]

And I don't need that. It's more expensive than the plain one.

[eyediot]

It's fine.

[It's Jon's money which makes it Jonah's money. And he knows himself, so he knows Jon would agree to spoil Algric where he can.]

Come on, what else?

[curriculum_fictae]

[ It's true, Jon would 100% agree with that. And Algric is utterly adorable blushing and stammering over something as basic and simple as this. ]

I - that's - y-you don't have to do this, I have enough clothes already--!

[ They're all terrible. Including the outfit he arrived in, which has long been bleached grey by the Lonely.

He will give in in a moment, but he has to try refusing one more time. ]

[eyediot]

Mm, no, but I want to. That's reason enough, and the whole reason we came.

[He flips through the hangers here. He at least knows from that shirt what size Algric wears so he grabs another - some white t-shirt with a vintage looking controller on it - and slings it over his arm.]

[curriculum_fictae]

I - I - I suppose if I just refused, w-we'll have come all the way out here for no good reason.

[ He rubs at the back of his neck, forcing himself to relax. Jonah is doing something nice for him. He can't turn that away. ]

[eyediot]

[And you can't stop him either.

Though he does pick at a smaller size shirt (clearly for himself) of some rock band. Sighs and grabs it.]

Go on, whatever you like.

[curriculum_fictae]

F-fine. Fine, I'll just - get a few more things then.

[ He desperately needs a decent pair of jeans, so he cautiously selects a pair? Two pairs, in different sizes; he isn't sure which one will fit him better. (He's wearing the pair he brought from the future now; he only has one other set here, and it's extremely threadbare.) ]

Let's. Let's start with this? I need to try them on, anyway.

[eyediot]

Hm? Oh, yes. [He's got a nice pair of jeans and a pair of proper work pants for himself.]

I'll meet you over there? [Unless Algric wants him there? He's never shopped with other people.]

[curriculum_fictae]

R-right. Um. Meet you over there, when you're ready.

[ He takes his own things and heads for the dressing room. ]

[eyediot]

[Jonah watches him go, just to see what direction (since he won't Know anymore), and picks out a couple other small things like socks, briefs, etc. Gets lost. Finds his way the third walk around to the dressing rooms.]

Martin?

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Wow, Jonah. Good job there. How did you get anywhere without eldritch GPS?

Algric's voice comes floating out from the small set of dressing rooms. ]

Here, Jon. I'm in the one on the left.

[ ... Or, well. He would be if Jon had approached from the direction they'd come from, but he's looped around the store and is coming from the opposite direction. And without Knowing, it's hard to tell which of the two curtained stalls is occupied, right? ]

[eyediot]

[The racks and fluorescent lighting all look the same!

But the wrong side indeed. Hearing his voice eases him a bit, knowing he's there and hasn't vanished. One on the left... so he goes to the right. Doesn't bother looking since it's clearly empty and gets it open.]

You'll probably finish before me, so don't leave--

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Jonah pushes back the curtain - and there's Algric, of course. He's wearing one of the sets of jeans he'd picked out, thankfully, but he'd taken off his jumper and shirt to try on the t-shirt that he'd picked out. They're draped on the little bench off to one side.

But that's not what's going to draw Jonah's eye, is it?

Algric has always been so very, very careful around Jonah. He always takes his clothing into the bathroom with him to shower, never emerges without at least something on. Even when Algric had given him a few more massages, it never quite results in his own shirt coming off, does it? And even his pyjama shirts are made of thick (if ugly) material, no matter how warm it is in the room.

Jonah has never seen Algric's upper body without something covering it. Not until now. And now ...

Now he catches a glimpse of the scars on Algric's back. They are old and well-faded by now, having had time to heal (or reheal) over the years. But healing hasn't made them less distinct, nor does it make their artificiality less obvious. Knife marks. Shallow, mostly, and rather wild, but entirely too regular to be a mere accidental injury. They criss-cross over Algric's shoulder blades, forming thin white lines that mar the cloud of freckles that would otherwise be quite lovely on his back.

Algric makes a strangled noise. He turns instantly, but it's too late - and besides there's a pair of mirrors behind him, showing every detail. A faint bruise that's recent, from before Jon intervened in his visit with his mother. An even older burn scar right between his shoulders.

He clutches at the shirt he was about to put on, as if that will help him. ]

J-Jon!

[eyediot]

[He catches it all in a flash of a second, blink or you'll miss it moment before he realizes he's not supposed to see this and turns as Algric calls out to him.]

Sorry-- Sorry! You said the one on the left, so I went right and--

[Two steps forward, out the dressing room door and closes it behind him.

A flood of information is trying to slip through the cracks and he clenches his eyes shut, trying to force it back. He promised. But she did hurt him, in so, so many ways.

After a long minute or two, Jonah's feet finally step out of view from just under the door, going to the room next to Algric's.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Algric all but flings the curtain shut behind him, just standing next to it and holding it shut for a moment. Breathing hard, trembling all over, trying to - what? Calm down? Tell himself it wasn't so bad? Maybe Jonah didn't see. Maybe he's just reacting to having walked in on Algric.

(No, he knows better already. He'd seen Jonah's eyes track the shape of his scars before turning away.)

He shoves off the clothing he'd been trying on, leaving it a pile in the corner. Then hurriedly goes back to his faded jeans and ugly jumper. Cowering in its familiar weave for a moment, feeling protected. Needing to be invisible, just for a moment. ]

[eyediot]

[He sits on the little bench there, head in his hands and clothes piled next to him. He doesn't even need to try them on, he knows they fit. Why did he come in here? Why did he go through the wrong side?

Why is it so quiet?

Jonah swallows hard. Breathe. Picks up the pile of clothes and leaves his dressing room far too quickly to have even tried on one thing. Instead, he'll sit in the little waiting area that parents all too often leave their children to wait. He's patient.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ He waits a while, then. There's no sound at all from inside the dressing room, not even the rustle of fabric or the clink of hangers. The memory loss creeps in at the edges too. Not enough to take root, but just enough to make him wonder. Did he get lost? Did he see someone else, perhaps...? ]

[eyediot]

[It's easy to think that. The quiet and stillness making him wonder if anyone was even there now.

But the memory of Algric's voice, panicked and high, rings back in one ear.

Or maybe that's just a memory too. Why did he have shirts for him here when Algric isn't?.

He can feel panic starting to squeeze in. He sounds almost lost, like he isn't sure why he's been waiting here.]

A-algric?

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Sorry, Jonah. He hates to do this to you, truly, but it takes all his willpower not to do worse.

He takes a deep breath and steps back into reality a short distance behind Jon, feet already pointed towards the exit. ]

I - I didn't find anything I liked after all.

[eyediot]

[Jonah's shoulders simply sag with relief at Algric still being here. Thank god. Though now he fights with himself over the practicality of having come and picked things out and making Algric wait miserably while he checks out, or just. Leaving.

He doesn't bother picking the clothes up, just. Touches the back of his knuckles to Algric's, testing. An offer.]

A shame. There are other days to go out, I guess. [They can always come back. Or Algric can come alone, his choice.]