Logs:You've Got a Friend in Me

You've Got a Friend in Me
Dramatis Personae Gino, Lumin
In Absentia	2024-06-27 "I could stay as I was forever in their minds."
Location <NYC> Vitreous home, the Bronx
The house is thin, wedged in the line of other homes it’s connected to. Theres two sets up stairs, one leading up to the front door, and the other leading steeply downwards. The metal gate in front of the sets of stairs is rusting, black peeling off of it in thick chunks that would get stuck under your fingernails when you pick at it. The old window ac hanging from one of the windows drones on, drowned out in the sounds of the city. It’s later in the day, around the time people begin to get home from work. It’s still bright enough out, but shadows are beginning to stretch out in the way they do when the transition to evening is near. Lumin keeps their head down as they walk along the sidewalk, one specifically on the other side of their soon to be approaching family home. Unlike how they usually dress when coming up to the surface for some sun, which is minimally, today they wear a pair of joggers that are a little bit too short on them, exposing a flash of prismatic color by their ankles, sneakers, and a pastel purple windbreaker that only slightly clashes with their bright orange hair. The hood is pulled up and sits in an awkward shape from the sharp frozen edges of their hair poking from underneath it. Lumin had briefly, stiffly, explained to Gino their request, one clearly rehearsed in the way when you’re expecting a rejection: Just a quick visit to their home, just to see how they’re doing. Now, as they begin to near the house, Lumin turns to Gino, “They should still live there. When I looked them up online it didn’t seem like their address had changed.” They explain, and underneath the usual ring of their voices there’s a nervousness that peeks in. “Thank you again, for coming—It really shouldn’t be long, I promise.” Gino does not seem terribly put out by this excursion -- he is taking advantage of his time Up Top to befoul the neighborhood, puffing at an almost-depleted joint he's holding rather close to the cherry with no apparent concern that he will burn his fingers. He is dressed somewhat minimally -- very short shorts, pineapple-spotted shirt half-unbuttoned, ratty Birks -- showing an uncomfortable of uncomfortably white skin, streaky red-purple spikes mingling rather harmoniously with blotchy blue-purple bruising on his arms and legs. "Hey, no biggie," he says amiably, "You gonna go talk to them, or just stare creepily through the window like Lots-o'-Huggin' Bear?" Lumin squints at Gino, “I-well. I haven’t decided yet.” They say in a polite, clipped tone, “I can’t just- wait, Like who? Who’s Lotso Hugging Bear?” They ask confused. Their eyes pull away from Gino to somewhere behind him as they catch sight of the house across the street, and their step stutters, only briefly. Their walking slows by a bench they seemed to have been expecting to be there. They narrow their eyes back to Gino, and an amused smile makes its way onto their face, “Wait wait, is that the evil bear from Toy Story?” Gino drops his spent joint on the sidewalk and treads on it in his next step, then roots around in his shirt pocket to extract a second half-smoked joint, which he sticks in his mouth before digging into his other shirt pocket. "Lotso," he repeats, tilting a look of bemused reproach at Lumin, like this should really be self-explanatory. "...how long did you get kidnapped for again?" He plops himself with a whumph down on the bench and finally unearths a matchbook from his pocket, strikes a match on the rough skin of his knuckle and lights up. "Toy Story Three," he says, with his exhale. "Why the hesitation? What are you afraid of?" Lumin stops and stares at the house, and after a few moments, joins Gino on the bench much more gently than he had. “Ah, about 4 years, give or take.” They bring a leg up on the bench and rest their chin against it. “Feels like that movie came out yesterday. Unfortunate that the fourth one was an awful cash grab.” They gently tap their glass fingers against the bench, as they consider Gino’s question, “They. Well. It’s been a long time. I’m—” Lumin’s speech stutters with uncertain pauses, uncharacteristic to their usual flowing tone. Lumin laughs incredulously, “I’m not confident they’d even believe me. They didn’t get to see me like-like this.” Their smile twists into a slight frown, “I left long before then.” They tilt their head at the single light in one of the windows, now becoming clearer as the sun drops a little lower. “They’ve probably gotten their lives together now, reintroducing myself into their lives again would be… they’ve surely been through enough as it is without me coming in and….” They trail off, unable to find the right words. Instead, they tear their eyes away from the house for the first time to look at Gino, “Do you have a family?” "Oh damn," says Gino, "way after Toy Story Three then." He follows Lumin's gaze to the lit window. "Ah," he says. "It's like that, then," like what? He is not elaborating much; his brow furrows with a subtle grind of calcium shells as he finishes off his half-joint and stubs it onto the bench beside him, tosses it over his shoulder, stretches his legs out in front of him, crosses them somewhat delicately at the ankles. Then -- finally -- he's settling into stillness. He doesn't return Lumin's gaze. "I left home way before I looked like this too," he says. "Shit's complex sometimes, you know? I don't think anybody in my family liked the way I left or the way I came back, but I don't think any of them would rather be left wondering forever." With his free hand he plucks a bit of tree debris off the bench next to him and flicks it out at the sidewalk. "You know your own folks better'n me, though." Lumin’s eyes drift to Gino’s spikes when he doesn’t return their gaze, “So you did go back, then.” They lean back against the bench, so they’re no longer hunched forward. “Was it worse when you went back? Than it was before?” “They must think I’m dead—or I guess just wondering, like you said.” Theres a movement in one of the windows, and their body begins to still, their small jitters and movements smoothing out to an uncanny nothing. They continue speaking, despite the sudden stillness, “It’s hard to tell if it’s worth it, risking tainting their memories of me. I could stay as I was forever in their minds.” Gino props one elbow on the bench back. "Nah, not worse. They're hella consistent. I think I'm the one that changed." He twists his head to angle his face away from Lumin, though this may just be to pick his nose. His voice takes on a faintly philosophical tone (he's quite high): "Well, what's wrong with how you are now, what do you think you're tainting their memories with? Do they not know you were a mutant or something?" Lumin goes quiet at that. They hum, once, in consideration. “I…it’s not-” They look at the spikes on Gino again, and their gaze narrows sharply, briefly, before relaxing again, “There’s a few things I’d change, if given the opportunity.” They tilt their head, “I’ve been craving lasagna lately. I haven’t had lasagna in 4 and a half years. I think that’s the first thing I’d change.” They smile a little. “They did know, but not long before I ran away.” their eyebrows scrunch in thought, “…Perhaps I’m the one hanging onto memories. It’s comforting, to know a version of you still exists, even if it’s only in people’s minds.” Now Gino is lazily massaging his scalp with his hand, his eyes drifted half shut. "Woof, I am sooo glad my mutation didn't screw with my taste buds," he says. "Guess living in the fuckin' sewer might do the job anyway. Who says that other version of yourself doesn't still exist, like, within you? Like one of those Russian -- doll things, fuck -- matryoshka." When he lifts his head off his hand again, it is as though he does so with great effort; he starts to just slouch down on the bench, but this produces a nails-on-chalkboard sound and a pained expression and he has to readjust himself more deliberately into a lower slouch, fishing a pair of sunglasses from his shirt pocket and placing them on his face. "I don't think you should worry about being selfish. This is literally about you." Lumin startles at the at the nails-on-chalkboard sound, hand coming up to their chest, but otherwise doesn’t comment on it. They don’t say anything for a minute, idly fidgeting with the zipper of their jacket by their chest, before letting out a dramatic groan and throwing their hands up. They slump back against the bench in an equally dramatic fashion, head draped over the back of it and angled at the sky. “Why does shit gotta be so hard all the time.” They grumble, pressing their palms against their face. They let out the sound of a huff, “You’re right. I hate that you’re right.” They pause once more, as if to mentally prepare themself,, before abruptly shoving themself into standing, “Alright. Yeah. I’m gonna do it.” They say determined. Gino turns his head slightly to take in Lumin's fidgeting, maybe -- his eyes might also be closed behind his shades -- a smile spreading slow and broad over his face. "Aww, don't worry, everyone hates it when I have a point," he says with amusement. He tilts his head at the house, then reaches to retrieve yet another salvaged joint from his pocket, which he tucks between his lips before he gives Lumin one and a half rock-on hand signals (his left hand, alas, is missing one of the relevant fingers.) "Good luck," he says, and settles (ignoring, this time, the nails-on-chalkboard screech) on the bench -- "I'll be here." Lumin smiles brightly, and there’s a nervous excitement in it. “Thank you.” They turn, and bring a determined fist into their palm, “I’m gonna- I’m gonna walk right up to that door and knock on it. I’ve got this.” They abruptly begin walking forwards, peaking out from behind the cars lining the street to make sure it’s safe to cross. They’re about to step into the road to cross, when suddenly Lumin freezes. On the other side of the street, a stocky woman with black hair and greying roots, tan skin, sharp angular features similar to Lumin’s, makes her way up the stairway of the house with a stack of papers in hand. At the same time, a younger girl, maybe 18 years old, short black hair shaved on the sides, opens the front door. There’s some surprised conversation between the two as they slide past each other in the cramped doorway. With a final wave between the two, the front door closes, and the girl begins to head off. During the whole interaction, Lumin continues to stand frozen, uncannily so, until they sharply turn 180 degrees back towards Gino. They walk over and sit back down, hand curled in their hood and pulling it down. The sharp edges of their hair threaten to poke through the fabric. “Fuck. Fuck.” The hand holding their hood shakes a little, and they curl it tighter, “Y’know, maybe being Lotso isn’t so bad. Lotso’s seeming really cool right now actually.” They reason weakly, “Maybe I try another day. Baby steps right?” "Um, Lotso was evil," says Gino -- this is with a severe vocal fry to indicate that he's being either sarcastic or more serious than he's ever been. His latest joint is all cherry now, burning dangerously near his lips; he's cocking his head at the departing teenager. "I didn't know you had a sister," he says, kind of non sequitur, something a little pained in his otherwise blitzed voice. "You sure?" “If I’m Lotso, what does that make you? The giant baby?” They ask with a sideways glance from under the hood they’re still pulling down, mirroring Gino’s tone. They let the hood go eventually, “She cut her hair.” They say, as if this observation is something significant, “She’ll be graduating soon—maybe she already did. She was going into highschool when everything happened…” They trail off. Their eyes track her as she walks away, but they do drift to Gino, studying him, “I have two sisters, that one was the younger one. One older brother too.” They jerk their chin in the direction of the house, “Can you believe six people lived in that house at once? Barely fit all six of us, don’t get me started on when everyone gets together on holidays.” They pause, “Well. Five now, I suppose.” Despite it being their own words, they seem to fully process them after a delay. Suddenly, they’re hastily standing up. “Y’know what. Yes, I’m quite sure. Another day seems like a great idea. Maybe I bring…ah…flowers or something with me next time. ‘Surprise! I’m Not Dead’ flowers. Will make things easier I’m sure.” "Obviously I'm Michael Keaton as Ken," says Gino, in a tone of great offense. He drops the depleted joint and smushes it with one heel, now cocking his head at the house with an almost wistful grin. "I'd believe it," he says. He is not standing up immediately after Lumin does; he tilts his head back against the bench to look at them -- "Easier for whom?" he says, but then -- very slowly -- he is creaking back up onto his feet. "Whatever you say, boss," he says, then -- glancing back at the Vitreous's house -- "Now you know where to find 'em." Lumin grins, “Michael Keaton played Ken? I didn’t know that.” They consider, “They should cast you for whenever they do a live action Ken. I bet they’ll make that at some point, they’re making everything live action.” They say, their obliviousness genuine, “There was at least five different Disney movies made into live action while I was ‘Away’. Wouldn’t put it past them to do Ken.” They wipe off their clothes, which haven’t accumulated any dirt in the first place, “Flowers will make it easier for everyone of course! Everyone loves flowers.” They’ve clearly begun to relax again, but there’s still a tension in their shoulders. They look at the house one last time, tugging at the zipper of their jacket. They quickly turn, when they spot their mother in the window, “I suppose I do now. This was merely step one! A great first step if you ask me.” They pointedly place themself on the side of Gino furthest away from the house to begin their walk back. “Did you not get along with anyone in your family?” They ask lightly, “No siblings you got on with?” Gino snorts. "Be so for real, live-action Spongebob wouldn't cast me," he says; after one last look back at the Vitreous house he too sets off in a long-legged, easy lope. "If this is step one, what the fuck is step two, doorbell ditch? Set up a wiretap?" He hops a couple steps ahead to give a seed cone an angled kick further down the path, in exaggerated slo-mo, before falling back in step with Lumin (at least until they encounter the cone again.) This line of inquiry seems to throw him for a severe loop, or maybe he is just too high for it. "What? What's that got to do with anything." Lumin shoots Gino an unamused look, “Step two is I’m going to actually knock...although maybe writing a letter…?” They shake their head, “No no that’s an awful idea.” Lumin glances at Gino at his question, and as they approach the cone again, Lumin very gently, very carefully, kicks at it this time, further up ahead vaguely in Gino’s path this time. “Ah- apologies, it was still on my mind from earlier when you spoke about them. I suppose it doesn’t have to do with anything.” They admit, “Maybe I’m trying to imagine a family filled with multiple of you.” They grin. "It's a great idea, you should cut all the words out of magazines," says Gino. He's about to go for the cone again when Lumin beats him to the punch, and he stops walking for a moment, looking vaguely put out even as he resumes his stride. "I have a large family, it is litch-rally impossible for us all to get along at once," he says, though he doesn't sound put out about this. He doesn't speak for a few seconds more as he reaches the seed cone again, and this time kicks it sideways to skitter into the street. "But we're not -- we're up front with each other. I made sure everyone knew when I left." Lumin smiles at his put out expression, then looks put out themself when the cone gets kicked into the street. They sigh, or at least make the sound of it, “I understand, in a way at least. My immediate family isn’t all too large, but the extended…well it made for entertaining holidays.” They shrug. “I do hope they come around one day, if that’s what you’re hoping for.” They fidget with the zipper of their jacket again. They hesitate, “And thank you for joining me. I probably would have chickened out on the sidewalk leading here.” Gino laughs -- possibly he's thinking of his own entertaining holidays -- but he's shaking his head. "They're consistent," is all he says. He glances sidelong at Lumin with a quick flash of a grin -- "Prego," he says. "Next time, let's see if I can't get you all the way to the door."