[ Maybe he really has been slipping up too much for Ginger to be saying this. A part of him thinks, maybe he should start putting more distance before he does something really stupid and he regrets it.
The other part thinks, it's been two years, Ginger's some kind of celestial, and it's been a while since he's felt this comfortable with anyone. It's fine to just... bask in this a little, he guesses. There's always an ending anyway, right? ]
[ Again, note to self: Ginger is more perceptive than you give him credit for, stop fucking that up.
Even so, Day leans back towards the bay window, like he hopes he'll put himself far enough out of sight that Ginger won't see the expression on his face. If he can't smile, how is he supposed to protect himself from his troubles? ]
...What if, [ It's a tentative question. ] the real thing turns out to be disappointing? [ If it turns out to be some tired, wounded thing that's clinging to something bigger than itself because there's nothing left otherwise. Not hateful in any sense, but not endearing, either. ]
[ Right now? To Ginger. And other times, other people. He's a Chosen of Serenity, a Joybringer, but how can he try to bring serenity into people's lives if he himself cannot muster contentment?
So maybe it's foolish of him to find himself thinking back to the way Ginger carried himself that night ("Have you ever hated yourself?") and wish he could love Ginger until a time came when he could be at peace with himself. So that he doesn't have to fear being a disappointment too.
...He's aware of the hypocrisy of this. ]
Even though it'll change this? [ "This", whatever shape this friendship is. "Will", not "if", because Day cannot imagine too many things won't be cast in a different light if he's at all honest. ]
[ Now that’s a word he doesn’t like: change. He won’t ever like it, ever looming in the distance.
He thinks… ‘this’… may be referring to him and Day, but in what way? ]
… We’ll change anyway - with or without each other. But - [ A gentle pause because he does understand being so fearful of an uncertain future. ] But the memories we already have, those won’t.
And it doesn’t need to be now. So instead of using that smile, you should tell me “not now, Ginger.” Just like that.
[ But that is the issue, Day wants to say. Those memories will hold here, but he knows they won't afterwards. If Ginger knows the real him, they'll disappear. If he knows "Joyous Day", they'll disappear when that destiny is lost eventually. It's inevitable, and it's become harder to comfort himself by simply basking in memories while he still can when it comes to Ginger. It's why he smiles that way, why he got so unfairly intense in that moment.
There's a small frustrated noise, a rare moment where he can't try to hide losing his cool. ]
I think...if I say that now, I'll say it always. [ In his heart of hearts he knows that if he immediately takes an out given to him, he'll keep picking it and dodge all these things for as long as he can. It's what he's good at. Nothing would really change.
So he tentatively offers this instead, leaves it out there for Ginger to accept or decline: ] One thing. Not all of it. But I can tell you one thing.
Just because you'll say it always, doesn't mean I'll listen always.
[ Seriously, it takes two to have a conversation. But Ginger feels... like he wants to treat Day just a little bit more kindly, a touch more gently. Because, well, isn't Ginger exactly like this when he lets his troubles feed and grow on his fears until it's a thing barely contained?
He's never been very kind to himself for being like this. But, he thinks, he wants to be kind to Day.
He reaches out and taps the back of Day's hand with a finger. Lightly. Just once. Hey. ]
[ That actually gets a small, dry laugh from Day, because of course, he hadn't considered that Ginger would push back. He's too used to dodging consequences to have remembered that.
There's a small twitch where Ginger touches his hand, but he doesn't move to try and brush him off. He's quiet for a moment, because he doesn't want the words to spill out unfairly like they had earlier. ]
I... [ "Can't be remembered", but it's not exactly accurate. So he tries again: ] People can't keep me in their memories. There ain't a place for me when the stars hide "me". Mortals will forget, even the gods will forget. The only ones who remember are in the Bureau of Destiny.
[ That explains… a lot about their conversations, all those little moments where he had seemed to struggle with something he couldn’t say. Ginger understands now that it was something Day thought no one else could understand. ]
If… we’re talking about mortals, I could see where that would be nearly impossible to overcome.
[ There’s a but. ]
I’m immortal, though. So… even if I forget like you say, what stops you from coming back?
[ No way Day’s just gonna leave forever. Ginger will be pissed if so. ]
'Cause there's no guarantee you'll ever remember again. And I...I can't keep facin' a you who looks at me like a stranger.
[ He can't even face the prospect of meeting his family again, people he grew up with, and having them ask, "Who are you?" It would test "love endures" to its limit, and if it is found wanting, then Day really will have nothing left. He doesn't want that to happen with Ginger, either. ]
[ Ginger does remember love endures and he had assumed it was all love - love for a friend, love for family, love in small acts of kindness and big acts of self-sacrifice. So then: ]
I… guess I’m having a hard time believing that the heart would forget entirely even if the mind does. Right now my heart is certain it’ll remember you forever. Tempus fugit amor manet. So it would be worth it to keep trying - is something that’s easy for me to say now, but… I think I’d be terrified, too.
[ This is what finally gets Day to let Ginger see him, looking like he's on the verge of tears. In the five years since he joined the Bureau of Destiny, he's been reminded in ways big and small about the transience and fragility of relationships outside his job—in the way his seniors have tried to nudge him towards similar colleagues, how his mentor from the Division of Endings taught him the way of the Rising Smoke, the sympathetic look Mirror had given him when she came to retrieve him and said, "I'm sorry." Everyone in the bureau went through the same thing, and in that solidarity, no one wanted to offer what seemed like cruel hope.
But what Day has hoped for, even just once, is for someone to say it's worth trying. Even if it'll be difficult, and even though it might ultimately be futile, so that "love endures" isn't simply a survival mantra. ]
...Do you still believe what I said 'bout not takin' back bein' friends?
[ Without the "but" of arcane fate shadowing Day's decision. ]
You think you can when I'm this possessive? Nice try.
[ He doesn't really know how to comfort anyone; he's always been the one who needed it. And it's only in this moment that he sees just how selfish he's always been. But it starts with words, he thinks. Words that are clear and honest. And a willingness to be there for the other person, even when you think you can't offer enough for them. ]
[ At this point, Day sort of just gives Ginger a look. He doesn't disbelieve him (it's not like Ginger has any reason to lie here), it's just hard for him to imagine when (he thinks) he hasn't seen any signs of it yet.
It...is strangely hopeful to think that someone will try. Day thinks it's almost laughable what things he'll try to grab onto to stave off the emptying of the self; first the bureau, now Ginger. It reminds him that perhaps there are more irregulars here, and the idea itself makes the grind of looming inevitability feel a little less gnawing.]
...I wanna try. [ Staying friends with Ginger, and in his memories. ]
Ginger’s spent too long making things overly complicated for himself, for others. Being around Day makes him feel like he’s the more immature one of the two of them - but strangely, also more settled, more… like the adult he should be once he’d passed his mark of maturity. Calm? Whatever Day is, it’s rubbing off on him.
He doesn’t mind it at all. ]
Tell me something about you that you want me to remember. Tell me something each time we meet.
[ It feels strangely light now that he's spilled some (a lot, maybe) feelings onto someone, and Ginger has accepted them in his own way. He won't say that he doesn't get along with his colleagues, but the contrast between himself and them, with decades, centuries of work and life experience, is sometimes very stark.
But...maybe (it is too late to say maybe now, Day), it is fine to be honest with Ginger, if no one else at this time.
Like how Ginger had gently tapped the back of his hand earlier, Day's hand reaches to touch Ginger's, lightly, tentatively. ]
We can start with today. [ It is, after all, full of things he's told no one else. ] And...
[ (He isn't sure if it's his place to offer or ask this, but it doesn't...seem fair, to not do it.) ]
It doesn't have to be now, or even soon. But if you'll let me, I want to know that real part of you too. [ And he'll try to love it, as much and for as long as he can. ]
[ Ginger glances down, but doesn’t say anything about the touch. It feels like a little back and forth, perhaps. Saying without words: hey, I’m here with you. Something he does with Rum sometimes. ]
Me…?
[ He’s not opposed, exactly, just confused why Day would even want to know. Those parts aren’t worth knowing, but… fair’s fair. ]
[ It's true, but that's not that related to this statement! (It is, Day.) ]
Then...tell me something you like? So I can make up for this ride of an afternoon a little. [ When you come for drinks and instead it becomes full of feelings. ]
[ "There's nothing to make up" makes Day feel a little chagrinned. He had wanted to keep this light and fun, and while all that feelings talk was...good? In the long run, he can't help feeling a little bad, like he somehow didn't read the room right. ]
...I like them well enough. There were some back where I grew up, to help catch rats and things. [ Realities of a small, rural farming town. ] There was a little shorthair that hung around the shrine. Ain't sure how she got up there since eighty-nine steps is no joke. ...Probably gone by now, though. [ He isn't sure, but if that cat's still around, she'd be a grandma. ]
And we've got a little missy back home who likes cats, 'cept they're all, uh. Afraid of her. So she asks us to pet them for her and tell her what's it like sometimes. [ Day is forced to like cats regardless, ]
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But before he can try to probe about that, Ginger does all that. ]
Didn't you just say there's nothing you hate?
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[ So there. ]
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The other part thinks, it's been two years, Ginger's some kind of celestial, and it's been a while since he's felt this comfortable with anyone. It's fine to just... bask in this a little, he guesses. There's always an ending anyway, right? ]
What's that, accordin' to you?
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[ He’s only a little (a lot) stupid, but he’s seen enough fake, evasive smiles to spot one all the way from Heaven.
Never fails to piss him off. ]
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Even so, Day leans back towards the bay window, like he hopes he'll put himself far enough out of sight that Ginger won't see the expression on his face. If he can't smile, how is he supposed to protect himself from his troubles? ]
...What if, [ It's a tentative question. ] the real thing turns out to be disappointing? [ If it turns out to be some tired, wounded thing that's clinging to something bigger than itself because there's nothing left otherwise. Not hateful in any sense, but not endearing, either. ]
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To who?
[ To Ginger? Who is torn between being one thing or the other, neither being entirely what he wants. He’s the biggest disappointment here.
Who is he to find anyone else a disappointment? ]
It’s scary, right? The answer to your question. I get scared, too. [ Terrified, actually. ] Still, I want to know.
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So maybe it's foolish of him to find himself thinking back to the way Ginger carried himself that night ("Have you ever hated yourself?") and wish he could love Ginger until a time came when he could be at peace with himself. So that he doesn't have to fear being a disappointment too.
...He's aware of the hypocrisy of this. ]
Even though it'll change this? [ "This", whatever shape this friendship is. "Will", not "if", because Day cannot imagine too many things won't be cast in a different light if he's at all honest. ]
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He thinks… ‘this’… may be referring to him and Day, but in what way? ]
… We’ll change anyway - with or without each other. But - [ A gentle pause because he does understand being so fearful of an uncertain future. ] But the memories we already have, those won’t.
And it doesn’t need to be now. So instead of using that smile, you should tell me “not now, Ginger.” Just like that.
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There's a small frustrated noise, a rare moment where he can't try to hide losing his cool. ]
I think...if I say that now, I'll say it always. [ In his heart of hearts he knows that if he immediately takes an out given to him, he'll keep picking it and dodge all these things for as long as he can. It's what he's good at. Nothing would really change.
So he tentatively offers this instead, leaves it out there for Ginger to accept or decline: ] One thing. Not all of it. But I can tell you one thing.
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[ Seriously, it takes two to have a conversation. But Ginger feels... like he wants to treat Day just a little bit more kindly, a touch more gently. Because, well, isn't Ginger exactly like this when he lets his troubles feed and grow on his fears until it's a thing barely contained?
He's never been very kind to himself for being like this. But, he thinks, he wants to be kind to Day.
He reaches out and taps the back of Day's hand with a finger. Lightly. Just once. Hey. ]
I'm listening.
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There's a small twitch where Ginger touches his hand, but he doesn't move to try and brush him off. He's quiet for a moment, because he doesn't want the words to spill out unfairly like they had earlier. ]
I... [ "Can't be remembered", but it's not exactly accurate. So he tries again: ] People can't keep me in their memories. There ain't a place for me when the stars hide "me". Mortals will forget, even the gods will forget. The only ones who remember are in the Bureau of Destiny.
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If… we’re talking about mortals, I could see where that would be nearly impossible to overcome.
[ There’s a but. ]
I’m immortal, though. So… even if I forget like you say, what stops you from coming back?
[ No way Day’s just gonna leave forever. Ginger will be pissed if so. ]
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[ He can't even face the prospect of meeting his family again, people he grew up with, and having them ask, "Who are you?" It would test "love endures" to its limit, and if it is found wanting, then Day really will have nothing left. He doesn't want that to happen with Ginger, either. ]
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I… guess I’m having a hard time believing that the heart would forget entirely even if the mind does. Right now my heart is certain it’ll remember you forever. Tempus fugit amor manet. So it would be worth it to keep trying - is something that’s easy for me to say now, but… I think I’d be terrified, too.
… What can we do, but keep trying, Day?
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But what Day has hoped for, even just once, is for someone to say it's worth trying. Even if it'll be difficult, and even though it might ultimately be futile, so that "love endures" isn't simply a survival mantra. ]
...Do you still believe what I said 'bout not takin' back bein' friends?
[ Without the "but" of arcane fate shadowing Day's decision. ]
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[ He doesn't really know how to comfort anyone; he's always been the one who needed it. And it's only in this moment that he sees just how selfish he's always been. But it starts with words, he thinks. Words that are clear and honest. And a willingness to be there for the other person, even when you think you can't offer enough for them. ]
But no, I believe you.
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It...is strangely hopeful to think that someone will try. Day thinks it's almost laughable what things he'll try to grab onto to stave off the emptying of the self; first the bureau, now Ginger. It reminds him that perhaps there are more irregulars here, and the idea itself makes the grind of looming inevitability feel a little less gnawing.]
...I wanna try. [ Staying friends with Ginger, and in his memories. ]
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[ Simple as that.
Ginger’s spent too long making things overly complicated for himself, for others. Being around Day makes him feel like he’s the more immature one of the two of them - but strangely, also more settled, more… like the adult he should be once he’d passed his mark of maturity. Calm? Whatever Day is, it’s rubbing off on him.
He doesn’t mind it at all. ]
Tell me something about you that you want me to remember. Tell me something each time we meet.
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But...maybe (it is too late to say maybe now, Day), it is fine to be honest with Ginger, if no one else at this time.
Like how Ginger had gently tapped the back of his hand earlier, Day's hand reaches to touch Ginger's, lightly, tentatively. ]
We can start with today. [ It is, after all, full of things he's told no one else. ] And...
[ (He isn't sure if it's his place to offer or ask this, but it doesn't...seem fair, to not do it.) ]
It doesn't have to be now, or even soon. But if you'll let me, I want to know that real part of you too. [ And he'll try to love it, as much and for as long as he can. ]
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Me…?
[ He’s not opposed, exactly, just confused why Day would even want to know. Those parts aren’t worth knowing, but… fair’s fair. ]
If that’s what you want. Don’t hold back.
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I try not to ask for things I don't want, don't worry. [ Is what he says to how surprised Ginger seems. ]
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[ Their whole conversation just now. He was surprised, but it’s fine. He doesn’t think Day will judge the dirty parts of him. ]
Like I said, don’t hold back with me. At least… not with me.
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Then...tell me something you like? So I can make up for this ride of an afternoon a little. [ When you come for drinks and instead it becomes full of feelings. ]
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Day - there’s nothing to make up.
[ This isn’t a test, where he has to scramble if he’s missed anything when it comes to friendship. Ginger is a pretty easy pass, honestly.
When it comes to likes, Ginger’s first thought is of Rum. Then Mika. What he likes are just components of the people he likes. So. ]
… I like cats. Their eyes are really pretty, and their attitudes are cute. Do you like them?
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...I like them well enough. There were some back where I grew up, to help catch rats and things. [ Realities of a small, rural farming town. ] There was a little shorthair that hung around the shrine. Ain't sure how she got up there since eighty-nine steps is no joke. ...Probably gone by now, though. [ He isn't sure, but if that cat's still around, she'd be a grandma. ]
And we've got a little missy back home who likes cats, 'cept they're all, uh. Afraid of her. So she asks us to pet them for her and tell her what's it like sometimes. [ Day is forced to like cats regardless, ]
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