ArchivedLogs:Just Okay

Just Okay
Dramatis Personae Shane, Sebastian, Ion, Micah
In Absentia	29 November 2013 More social issues.
Location <NYC> 303 {Lighthaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome, though of late myriad bright-coloured dragonflies swarm across the living room wall. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. The living room and kitchen both hold a rather inordinate number of lamps in addition to the ceiling lights; standing lamps, small lamps on each counter, large sunlights in the corner. More often than not, they're largely all turned on, too. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within. There's music in Lighthaus again today. Not from Shane but from Bastian, quiet strumming on the guitar where he sits in an enormous beanbag by the window. He's singing along with it, soft and gentle. "Make me a channel of your peace; where there's despair in life, let me bring hope." His playing is good, and his singing at least on key though his singing voice is not particularly strong. He's strumming rather than picking, his claws filed down short so as not to damage the strings. Shane is curled up alongside his brother; even both the twins together leave plenty of extra space in the beanbag, which seems to have been invitation for Sprite to flop herself in along with them. Shane's gills shift slowly, eyes closed but his fingers gently tapping at Sebastian's leg in time with the soft hymn. Ion's been loitering the past day or two, disappearing here and there but turning back up very cat-like around meal times. Today at least he turns up with food, a fresh bag of groceries; kale, fresh bread, onions, garlic, peanut butter, apricot jam, rice, tempeh. He enters suddenly, a knock at the door but then he just blips inside without waiting for answer. He opens the door afterwards to pick up the bag of groceries he's left just out in the hall, humming along with the song as he does. Humming turns into singing while he moves to the kitchen to drop off foods, his own singing voice a strong rich bass that fills the apartment easily. Micah emerges from the bedroom at the sound of knocking. His auburn hair is about as tousled as usual and he is dressed in a green and blue plaid button-down over a plain white shirt and faded, patched jeans. The twins curled up on the beanbag get a bright smile as he passes by. He is most of the way to the door before he notices that Ion is already in the kitchen, his head tilting briefly. “Oh, hello again, Ion! Were you the one knockin'? 'Cause that means there's not much point t'me answerin' the door.” Sebastian's singing trails off when Ion's begins, his eyes lighting, delighted. He keeps playing, now just humming quietly along. "He was knocking," Shane agrees. "What'd you bring, anything good? Besides yourself, I mean, holy fuck you can sing." He cracks an eye open to peer over at Ion. "I mean I think I just came, a little." Sebastian ducks his head sheepishly. "He likes music," he explains apologetically. "C'mon," Shane turns his gaze on Micah now like he's looking for backup, "/tell/ me that voice doesn't get your engines /purring/." This makes Ion grin, bright, but he doesn't stop singing till the end of the chorus. "I am," he admits, "handy with mechanics." His brows raise at Shane's last comments, grin turned expectantly on Micah as well. “Oh, good, I can just help unpack, then.” Micah moves into the kitchen and starts poking into bags, pulling things out onto the counter. “Is there anythin' y'were wantin' made tonight? I'll just leave that stuff out if it's needed.” Shane's comments start him blushing. “Singin's nice. I'd sing with y'but I don't know that one.” The question deepens the colour on Micah's cheeks to a full-on red. “Uh...I. Nice voice doesn't hurt anythin', certainly.” His sheepish grin is turned down to the bag on the counter. "You know it." Sebastian rests his hand over the strings to quiet them. "Maybe not the tune," Shane allows, "but I bet he gets a good view of it plenty." Sebastian flushes at this, plucking absent and tuneless now at the guitar strings. "It's -- tattooed on Pa's chest," he explains for Ion's benefit. "Maybe /that's/ why it turns me on," Shane decides, uncurling to sit up beside his brother. "And Ba too. Though it certainly doesn't /hurt/ coming from you," he adds magnanimously to Ion. "Spent most of my life singing for my supper, I have some practice getting people revved up. And the tattoo, /I've/ seen it." Ion lifts his /fists/ in explanation, throwing a light shadow-punch at Micah's arm when he comes to help with the groceries. "There is a lot of shirtlessness, Friday nights. And no, I just picked up what was there. Stores still kind of bare, take what I can get yeah?" Shane's commentary earns a lift of his eyebrows. "Oy, vato, that's your /dad/," he says with a shake of his head. "That's not right, yo." “Oh.” Micah's face has that sudden-dawning realisation look about it. “Oh. I wasn't really listenin' t'the words, exactly, so I didn't even recognise.” The visible skin on Micah's face, neck, and ears is all decidedly scarlet by this point. “Singin's just nice is all.” He surveys the items on the counter. “Kale, onions, garlic, tempeh...think we got some mushrooms in the fridge still. Could do a one-skillet thing with that. Greens are better the fresher you can use 'em.” One eyebrow arches as he looks from Ion to Shane, interested to see what Shane's reply might be in light of past conversations. "The singing's fucking gorgeous, you do that professionally?" Shane wants to know. "You kind of do look like a rockstar," Sebastian admits shyly. "At least with the whole --" His claws lift to tap against his chest. "Motorcycle -- vest thing and --" He quiets, though, with a deeper flush, eyes widening as he looks from Ion to Shane. He sits upright, a little bit more tense. "He didn't mean --" he starts defensively. "What, Pa's fucking gorgeous, too." Shane spreads his hands in front of himself. "/Right/ come on tell me you wouldn't hit that? Just because I'm not supposed to touch doesn't mean I don't have /eyes/." "Professionally like streetcorners." Ion's mouth quirks up at the mention of being a rockstar, but this time his smile is quick to fade. "/He/ seems to know the ink well enough," he comments offhand, head jerking in indication of Shane. He folds up the empty shopping bag, tucking it away with the rest of the reusable ones. He leans back against a counter, palms resting against it but his eyes skipping between Micah and the boys in the living room. "That's not funny, yo." “Bet people'd be willin' t'throw some money in a hat for you,” Micah observes at the further details Ion provides. “Is it somethin' you'd wanna do more formally? Y'hear a lotta stories about folks who start out as street performers.” He sighs heavily, looking over to Shane and shaking his head. Clearly he's not planning to rein /himself/ in. “Shane, honey. This is one of those things that makes people uncomfortable. The boundaries thing we were talkin' about? Mostly it's not okay t'make those sorts of comments about your parents socially.” "You never said I wasn't supposed to --" Shane has a note of frustration in his voice, his words ending in a sharp huff of breath. His words hitch unevenly after this, gills fluttering rapidly open and closed. "I wasn't even hitting on /him/. -- Well okay I was that too but fuck. I mean I was just /talking/, I wasn't even fucking /doing/ anything this time." Sebastian frowns, setting his guitar aside and lifting his hands to brush his fingertips down along the sides of Shane's neck, gently smoothing down at his brother's gills. "There's a lot of things people don't really like it when you talk about." He just sounds quiet, in comparison to Shane's frustration, soft and even. "Pretty much any feelings you have it's usually best to stay quiet on." "My family were all performers," Ion says, kind of absently with his fingers curling back harder against the counter. His eyes fix on the twins, narrowing slightly as he watches Sebastian's hands at Shane's neck. His fingertips drum heavily against the countertop. After a long quiet moment he tears his eyes away from the Sebastian's fingers, though they're still narrowed when he looks to Micah. He speaks quietly now, too. "-- This normal for around here, then?" "I know, hon, it's kind of...impossible t'have a /single/ conversation that covers all the things that can make folks uncomfortable. Nobody's upset with you; I'm just tryin' t'do better about pointin' these things out, especially when somebody's expressin' that things are makin' 'em a little uncomfortable." Micah's fingers fuss through his hair, scruffing it up into more of a mess. "Did y'notice when Ion was sayin' things t'indicate he wasn't quite okay with what y'were sayin'?" He shakes his head at 'Bastian. "That's not...no, y'don't have t'not talk about feelin's, guys. Please don't feel like y'can't talk about things. It's...well, /sex/ specifically tends t'be more for specific-people-only who don't indicate discomfort with discussin' it. An' y'can /always/ talk about /anythin'/ with me...it just might be better t'discuss certain things in private. It'll take some time t'figure it out better, an' that's okay. Most people have /years/ of bein' exposed t'this stuff t'learn from." Micah looks over to Ion with a more apologetic expression. "It's...yeah, pretty normal for around here. It's hard for the kids who grew up in the labs or without regular socialisation t'know exactly what's expected of 'em by the world out here." He moves to put away the items from the bag that won't be needed for making dinner, pulling a few other items out that /will/ be. "It's just gonna take some work t'help y'figure things out, okay, guys? Please be patient with yourselves learnin'." Bastian glances up, his dark eyes meeting Ion's. His cheeks flush darker, and he drops his hands from Shane's neck with a guilty stiffening of his shoulders. "Sss --" His eyes close, his hands clasping together in his lap. "{It's usually better if you don't say anything.}" His words are in quiet Vietnamese, and when he opens his eyes it is only to look down at the floor. He gets to his feet, starting to lean in towards Shane but then pulling back. "{It always just reminds them we're not human.}" He moves away, disappearing into their bedroom and closing the door behind himself. Shane tips his face up towards Sebastian, expectant, when Bastian leans in, but shrinks back into the beanbag when no kiss materializes. His brows furrow, knees pulling in towards his chest. "{Sorry,}" he says uncomfortably to the others. "I don't think we have a normal." Ion's quiet, except for the rapid tapping of his fingertips against the counter. "No," he allows eventually, "I guess most of us have been somewhere past normal for -- long time now, yeah." His eyes track Sebastian out, skipping back to Shane and then returning to Micah afterwards. "I should --" His head shakes quickly, fingers running through his hair. "Enjoy your --" He glances back to Shane, but only briefly. "Dinner, yeah?" Micah lifts a deep frying pan out of the cabinet and sets it on the stove, but then 'Bastian takes off. He pauses, looking between Shane's seat and the twins' door. He chews at his lower lip, tending to Ion first. “Oh, honey, you don't have t'go. But...if you'd rather visit Dusk for a little bit. I can text you when food's done later.” He abandons the food prep for now, moving over to Shane simply because he's /closest/. Half-kneeling next to the teen on the beanbag, he reaches out to scruff a hand over his hair-spikes. “Really nobody's upset, hon. What would help right now?” Shane's eyes close, slowly, one set of eyelids and then the other. His gills flutter again rapidly when Sebastian leaves, but then press back down against his neck. "Hm?" He turns a quick smile up to Micah. "Help with what?" His sharp teeth flash in a bright quick smile. "Never say no to head-rubs." "Thanks." Ion's deep voice is a little gruff. He straightens, looking over the others once more, but then in one quick sizzle-pop he is gone. “No problem. Let Flicker'n Dusk know they're welcome when I message, too. As always.” Micah gives Ion a little wave and a half-smile before he heads off. “Help with...y'guys seemed kinda upset with what just happened. Would it help t'talk about it? Or just more headrubs?” He settles in to sit next to Shane, scritching gently. “Should we let B sit alone for awhile or go after 'im?” Tucking in closer to Shane, he wraps his other arm around the teen's shoulders. “I been talkin' with Jax about whether we couldn't start some classes at the school t'help with this kinda thing. Social issues. Y'know it isn't just you two who've had some adjustment troubles, for various reasons.” Shane watches Ion leave, quick-sharp smile still on his face. He tips his head back up into Micah's hand, nuzzling into the touch and then turning his head back further to nip very lightly at the inside of Micah's wrist. "Do I look upset? B'll be better on his own I think." A small shiver passes through him when Micah tucks in closer, but it passes and he leans in closer to the older man. "Oh Christ, yeah. /More/ classes just what I need." “Borderline with the bitin', hon,” Micah informs softly, very gently moving his arm away. “Y'did, for a moment. If you're actually over it, that's fine. But y'don't have t'pretend if you're not.” He shifts his hand over to petting Shane's hair again. “/Practical/ classes, hon. Maybe not even...graded. I'm not sure on the details just yet; we're in the most initial kind of plannin' for the /proposal/, even. Just somethin' t'help y'all so you're not tryin' t'learn this kinda thing piecemeal. Get folks help as don't have families t'give guidance on this kinda thing, too.” The information on 'Bastian is accepted with a simple nod. "Right." This word is barely audible; Shane breathes it out softly when Micah pulls his hand away. He sits up straighter, head ducking out from beneath Micah's hand. "Sorry. Good. Special ed classes. That'll do a lot to stop the other kids thinking we're freaks. -- Hey, if you need help with dinner let me know, okay?" He starts to turn towards Micah, but then just pushes himself to his feet. "I think I'm going to check on Bastian after all." “It's not...like that, honey. We're just tryin' t'find a way t'help so y'all don't have t'deal with this /alone/.” Micah moves his hand away, resting it in his own lap instead. “We just wanna help. It's comin' from carin' about y'all. Lovin' you an' wantin' t'make transitions easier.” He sighs heavily, his eyes drifting closed for a moment. “Y'can help if y'want. I'd love t'have you, but it's pretty simple, so not really /needed/. Go ahead an' check on B. Make sure he's okay.” "We always are okay." Shane watches Micah's hand move, his own hand twitching outwards as if to reach for the older man. In the end, though, he just folds his hands behind his back. He gives Micah a smile, small and warm. "And we're not alone." His hands stay folded behind his back as he leaves, unfolding only once he reaches his bedroom door so he can open it. Micah nods again, silent, moving back to let Shane retreat to the twins' room. He pushes to his feet and returns to the kitchen, just watching the boys' door a little while longer before returning to his cooking prep. “Want you t'be more than just /okay/ sometimes, is all,” he informs the empty room.