Twentieth PSI

[a_gentle_boy]

[action, multi-topic for everyone]
Lucas is a wreck.  By now, he has forsaken the hat and the mask, and his burn marks are very clearly visible to anyone who didn't guess before.  He doesn't particularly care.

1. He stumbles across town like a zombie, smashing into things wherever he goes, barely registering the pain.  He stops suddenly in random spots, staring at the floor or at a tree or at a shop window or at a drone.  This is where we had ice cream.  This is where I bought him the present.  This is the bench where he listened to my story . . . This is where . . . This is . . .

2. In school, he keeps his head down and buried and sits in a far corner.  His shoulders occasionally heave.

3. At home, he shuts himself in his room.  Family members or those who visit him will find drawing after drawing after drawing of a certain person strewn all across the floor, each one with slash marks through the face.  Is he already forgetting?  Is he losing the smile, the laugh, the voice?

[action, forward-dated, open to Taiwan, Saki, and Mindy]
A full day after his meeting with Taiwan, Lucas enters the house uninvited.  He doesn't care about not being selfish anymore.  He has remembered -- There is something very precious he needs to get back, the symbol and the memory that he absolutely needs.

He finds it in the basement.  True to his word, the Netherlands has framed the very first drawing that Lucas has ever made, of Miffy and Hello Kitty enjoying a picnic in a park.  Propped up beside it is the best piece of art that Lucas has ever produced: a drawing of the two of them, laughing and happy, so closely resembling each other in looks that they could've passed as a father and a son.

He is about to leave with his treasures when he catches a glimpse of something else out of the corner of his eye.  A shoebox.  For 'Lucas'.  His hands shake as he pops the lid; he stares at what's inside.

"Mr. Netherlands . . . . . . . I . . .  I . . . OK.  I'll keep going.  I'll keep fighting . . . "

((I have been informed that Lucas has been left notes of all the conversations the Netherlands has had with Jane Smith, the Westport notes, and Richard Grey's wallet.  Also, Nini, if you don't mind, I think I will forward-date that conversation they just had to after this.))

Comments

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[Lucas stumbles backwards a few steps until his coordination fails him and he ends up sitting on the ground. He blinks in confusion at the person who seems to recognize him. His memory, already muddied by the effects of the gas, is even worsened by his present condition.

It takes some time for him to respond, although his mouth occasionally moves silently in the meantime.]

You . . . You're . . . that voice.

[bridgetroll.livejournal.com]

[she glares down at him, fighting a rising sense of pity; he looks bad.]

I'm more than a voice, kid.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[He nods, slowly, to that, and tries to recall exactly what had happened then.]

I hurt you . . .

[bridgetroll.livejournal.com]

Yeah.

[Why deny it? But then she just shakes her head.]

It doesn't matter. What are you doing?

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

. . . It does. I'm sorry.

[His thoughts have been pulled away from his sorrow, if only momentarily, and he struggles to bring to mind what had happened.]

It was because . . .

[Too long of an explanation and too much effort to say.]

I'm sorry.

[bridgetroll.livejournal.com]

Stop apologizing.

[one hand comes up to absentmindedly trace over her cheek, and her green eyes become glassy]

You should've hit harder, anyway.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[This is enough to snap Lucas out of his melancholy entirely.]

What? . . . Why?

[bridgetroll.livejournal.com]

I'm still alive, aren't I?

[said bitterly, almost with a tone of betrayal]

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

What . . . ? I'd never . . . Why would you want that?

[bridgetroll.livejournal.com]

Guess. Go on, take a wild guess.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

I-I don't want to guess. But . . . No one should have to feel like that . . .

[bridgetroll.livejournal.com]

I don't want your pity- you look like you need it more, anyway. Not that I care. [a pause, then she says again, almost angrily] I don't care!

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[Lucas is confused at that, but tries to smile.]

U-Um. Thanks . . . You . . . What's your name?

[bridgetroll.livejournal.com]

[she crosses her arms]

Why do you want to know? It's not like it matters.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

Because . . .

[He is still on the ground, staring upwards. Parsee is the first person to succeed in stopping him from thinking about the Netherlands, however briefly.]

Because I want to . . .

[bridgetroll.livejournal.com]

Want to hurt me again? You don't need my name for that.

[she hmphs and glared at her toes]

It's Parsee. Parsee Mizuhashi.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

Parsee Mizuhashi . . . My name is Lucas.

I'm sorry for what happened before. I'm sorry for . . . running into you again. You should . . . You shouldn't feel that way about yourself. It's not true and it's not right.

[bridgetroll.livejournal.com]

What would you know about it being true? You don't know me!



And you shouldn't know me.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

It shouldn't be true for anyone. No matter what.

[bridgetroll.livejournal.com]

You're so full of innocence, you know that? Damn, I'm jealous...

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[Lucas shakes his head slowly.]

It's not . . . innocence. Truth.

[bridgetroll.livejournal.com]

[her eyes flash angrily; she doesn't want truth. At least, not any truth that can help her. She doesn't deserve that. Just hurt her more, Lucas.]

Yeah, right. And pigs fly.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[Lucas's eyes widen at that. He seems about to say something, but he turns away, instead. And laughs. It is uncharacteristic of him, a harsh sound.]

But they do. They do . . .

They fly. They destroy. They raze the forest. They corrupt the animals. They kill for sport.

But that's still truth.

[bridgetroll.livejournal.com]

[...she knocks him on the head, but gently]

Hey.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

Everyone . . . Everyone deserves that much.