huggingcompetition | redheadedstepson Terra Firma

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reno,
rp threads

redheadedstepson Terra Firma

Getting shot through space would be traumatic if you weren't asleep and/or being beamed through it at the speed of life itself. It only felt like he'd had a long, restless sleep when Emil's eyes opened to focus blearily not on the smooth metal ceiling of his tiny apartment, or, more often than not, someone else's, but on the generically spackled ceiling of a hotel room in Malay. He was sure he was dreaming at first; he'd had dreams like this before, where he was back on earth and preparing to go about his day, at least until someone new happened out of the bathroom, or turned over beside him in the bed, but a quick glance around told him the one thing that made his heart sink straight into his stomach.

"Reno?"

Silence. just wind and surf and birds outside the cracked open window, and his own pulse plodding along strangely placidly.

He checked his phone to confirm what the date was, finding himself only a little bit alarmed to find out that time had passed here. Not much, but some. Enough to have taken up his vacation before he had to head home and begin arranging for the next winter sports season.

It would go like that for months after arriving back home and settling back into his routines. Wake up, work out, practice, visit with friends and family, with the underlying feeling that something was just off. It almost felt wrong just going back to his life now.

Sometimes, he'd try to talk to a concerned friend asking questions. Explain that he wasn't sleeping well. Making an effort to rationalize that he wasn't unjustified in feeling like something was missing or wrong. He had so much on his phone that confirmed what he already knew: this "dream" of his, about all of these people he'd met, couldn't be fake. He had photos taken of the park, of ladies he'd made friends with, of interesting people he'd met in the observatory or at the rink, of Koller and Reno and Mo Guanshan and Sam. He still had messages from some of them.

He reread those a lot as time went on. He couldn't possibly have fabricated those, surely. He'd start doubting every so often, wondering if it was all an elaborate, staged thing, like he'd been brainwashed. He joked that he'd been abducted by aliens, which did throw off some concern with the humor of it, but feeling so left of center never really stopped.

Even when the world started turning into the sort of low-key hell that had always been predicted by the sci-fi writers of the last century, Emil kept going. He went to the finals another few times, even making it to the Four Continents, with a piece that he'd choreographed on his own, to a remixed piece that he'd once worked on when he was still in his "dreamstate". That year he dressed in red with a yakuza-style phoenix emblazoned on his costume's back.

The summer after, he opted to take time off from his normal busy schedule to spend time close to home with his family, to reflect on what he wanted to do with the few years he had left in his skating career. He only had a few years left in him after all, as his body filled out and matured. He'd kept his hair short and feathery, but let his beard grow fuller and make his face much more mature. He walked the streets of Prague like anyone would the streets of home, having moved here the year prior after leaving his parents' home. It had been a move advised by his coach and some well-meaning publicists after some suspicious occurrences, including redirected phone calls and some increasingly freaky "fan-mail" that had apparently never had a name or return address attached. He'd been curious, but followed the advice nonetheless, if only to keep his actual fans from going on some kind of witch hunt.

Pulling out of his distraction for a moment, he stops in his meandering path through a small city park to sit and take a moment to zone out, a tablet in his lap for his fingers to flick across mindlessly. It's become home to a massive photo gallery, transferred from his phone when it was finally on the verge of death. The background of it is, predictably, a starfield, though if anyone looked closely enough at it they would realize that it isn't the view from anywhere on earth. In one corner of the image is a figure standing without paying attention, a shock of red hair tied and twisted into a haphazard bun over a simple tshirt, hint of tattoo peeking from the collar. Emil finds himself glancing back at it as he scrolls through an article linked from his Twitter feed, barely absorbing a word as his mind wanders.

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Emil's first instinct is to ask where Reno's set himself up now, but Reno puts a block in front of that thought when he looks back at him and asks if they could still do...whatever it was they were doing before now. The relationship thing. Emil gnaws fitfully at his lower lip as he thinks about it in context with everything else that's happened to him up to now. This is the first time he's ever truly felt guilty over coming from means, knowing Reno has been fighting for everything he has. But...the man is asking first. It means he wants it, or at least that's what Emil wants to believe.

Of course, when the photos come out the slight melancholy is broken, and he glances over the photos. There are faces he recognizes even if he can't readily put names to them, and others that he still has contact with at least on a tertiary basis, where other skaters and athletes are concerned. He smiles faintly at the image of Koller, taking that one to look at a little closer. It would still be a while before he could make contact without it being really weird, but knowing Reno, he probably had a plan for that already. In the photo, he puts Koller at about 18 years old. Emil hands it back after staring a few moments longer, then tucks his fingers back along Reno's

"I think...going back to that after this long will be strange. I want to say yes, and say we go to a hotel or somewhere and celebrate, drink and party and do the things we used to, but..."

He looks down at their hands, his own squeezing down on Reno's gently, the trembling of the man's fingers almost amplified by that in his own.

"I think it's time to reconnect a little. Maybe go out on a proper date for once, yeah? Then whatever happens after that, we'll let it come as it will."

"Huh? Oh! Holy materia, Emil, that's not what I meant!" the redhead scowls, frowning at the skater. Not angry, just frustrated.

"I'm not asking you about a hookup or anything. Shit. I'm asking about us. Us, you know? As an item? A thing? It wasn't like I expected you to wait for me or anything, but if you found someone else I wanted to know. I'm not getting in the way of whatever you made for yourself with me out of the way," the Turk mutters, just barely keeping himself from pulling his hand away, turning in on himself and putting up the walls that had become so necessary over the last few years.

"I just needed to know if we're supposed to keep trying, or if I took too long getting here."

Emil waits for Reno to talk himself out, his own expression shifting to frustration in kind. That isn't quite what he'd meant either, but arguing is kind of pointless. He loosens his hold on Reno's hand though, letting him pull away if he needed to; it was silly of him to try and take it to begin with, knowing how Reno used to react when he even offered his hand.

"There isn't anyone else, Reno. In all of this is just felt wrong. I mean...there were dates here and there but it never worked." He continues gnawing at his lip, eyes on his knees. "At first I thought, maybe moving on would be better, especially if you never came back. We all did things with other people before anyway, so this shouldn't be too hard. But it's different here. And...I don't really know how you'd feel about being exclusive anyway. Your life doesn't revolve around me, and vice versa."

"I haven't been with anyone since I got here," Reno admits after a moment, frowning at the loosened grip, unsure how he's meant to read it. He pulls his hand away, but only so he can fidget his hands in his lap, plucking at his suit jacket edges, fussing over his appearance pointlessly. Nervous. Upset. Uncomfortable. He's not sure why he thought it would be them running at each other across a field of flowers, but surely something other than being back at square one?

It felt like deja vu, all the circling.

"I didn't look. I didn't want to. I came all this way for you. Not anyone else. I didn't come here because I was looking fro fresh material, new faces. Whatever. I turned myself inside out to rush here, across time and space, because we were supposed to be together...I thought." He sighs softly, turning away and slouching on the bench to lean back, head tilting to stare up at the clouds passing, hands stuffing into his pockets.

"How the fuck do you think my life doesn't revolve around you?" he asks, cursing needlessly out of frustration, though his tone isn't angry and his voice isn't raised. He feels...defeated. Was it all just Lagunbiru? Was their worst fear - that everything was the drugs - really real? Had he made some terrible error in judgment following someone, who finally came to their senses and realized he wasn't worth a damn?

Had he in fact been too late? Was it his fault, in the end? He'd always thought if they broke it off, it'd be his fault...Should he have fought harder? He was so afraid of drawing the attention of the authorities before he knew the languages, new the streets, the way the currency worked. Things Emil hadn't prepared him for. Had he been so cautious that he spent too much time?

He's fallen silent, teal eyes darting about, looking at things only he can see as he runs over everything he must have done wrong. But how is he supposed to fix it? How does he fix two years of absence? He wants to get up, to leave and sort his thoughts out, come up with a plan, try to make things right, but if he leaves, if he turns his back for a second, he just knows Emil will disappear again.

"What am I supposed to do?" he murmurs, not for Emil's ears. Just a weary question for the world.

Emil is struck by the need to continue being delicate with Reno and the situation they're in, even if he wants to just shake the man by the shoulders and make him aware just how much he still wants this, even after this long. But he's not that assertive, and he doesn't want to spook the man into retreat, or worse, cause another fight. The ones in the past still weigh on him.

Instead of making the arguments that he wants to, Emil stands, dropping the tablet into the large pocket of his cargoes and turning back to Reno with his hand out, though he doesn't expect it to be taken.

"Come walk with me, ok? I'm heading home anyway."

His head lifts slowly, looking at Emil uncertainly for a moment before pushing himself forward, taking the hand without hesitation. Whatever Emil thought, Reno's life really did revolve around the relationship he'd had, and still wanted, with the skater.

He doesn't care about time an distance like other people might have, but then, he'd spent years watching Emil on televisions, reading about him in magazines...Emil had...what? A couple of photos? So while Reno lived in the past and clung to it in the present, Emil moved on? Was that how it worked? If a person wasn't there all the time, they faded away?

He pauses, a hand on his breast-pocket, then slips away from Emil for a moment, walking back over to the food cart. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the money he'd collected, setting it back down on top of the cash drawer.

"Tell 'em I quit if you see 'em before I do."

"It's not a retail job, you know? They might come after you."

"Nah. I'm not runnin' with anything of theirs. But let 'em try," Reno shrugs, wandering back over to Emil and snatching his hand again, as though daring anyone to question it, leaving behind the bewildered cart cook.

Emil stood where he was and watched the exchange when Reno went to return the money, unsure what was happening but gleaning a little from the way they were looking at eachother, and back at him. He takes Reno's hand without a second thought when the man comes back to him, and on a whim he leans forward to press a small kiss to the corner of Reno's mouth.

"You know, you sort of threw away your lunch before," he points out, walking at Reno's side with their hands laced together almost casually. "We could go eat something. Or order in. Like old times."

It feels weird referring to before like that, but he wants to put it firmly behind him, now that the only part of it that really mattered to him has come back into his life. Regardless of his personal turmoil with the situation, it doesn't change that he does still have feelings for Reno. He's overjoyed to have run into him again. He just has to find his balance again to be able to say what he wants to: even though his entire life hadn't revolved around bringing Reno to him, he'd never forgotten. He didn't want to.

"I think you'll like my place," he offers as they turn onto a wider street with large, luxurious apartment buildings overlooking the Old Town quarter. "It's a lot more spacious, and the shower's really big...." He continues, talking about the skylight that leads straight onto the roof of the building, the view from the east-facing windows and the spare bedroom that hadn't been touched, the studio space in which he trained for the skating season and the little home gym for training for the rest. A fully-stocked kitchen and ready access to the markets makes it seem practically perfect. He shakes Reno's arm, looking back at him almost seriously, if not for the determined look in his eye. "You have to visit all the time."

The kiss, after everything else, feels out of place, but it isn't unwelcome. It seems almost painful, really, and he closes his eyes for a moment before following along, memorizing streets and crossroads, taking note of any known criminal activity points, because it was his life and he still needed to be careful until he really changed things.

"I'm not going in," Reno states when they get close enough to the building that he's officially "walked Emil home".

"You said we had to start over. Do it properly. Well...we just met," he sighs, pressing a smile and rubbing his arm where he'd been gripped and shaken. "I can't go in. It's not the first date, yet. Right? So...I know where to find you. I'll visit a lot. But...just to pick you up. Until you decide I'm a proper boyfriend."

No bitterness there, but it's internalized. Not towards Emil, but himself. He always knew he wasn't good enough for Emil, that the skater deserved far better. Well, if it was to be a fresh start, then he'd just have to make himself worthy.

"Mm...it's offseason, right? When are you free? When are you able to take a night off from practice?" Because he wouldn't be accused of interfering with Emil's structured life; he wouldn't be to cause of the man's decline. He'd rather just disappear for good.

Emil hadn't expected that. He'd thought maybe inviting Reno in would be a good starting place for them to be able to talk and get to know eachother again, to learn what happened over the years Reno had been here and Emil had been working toward. It wasn't a bad alternative though. He offers a small smirk, head tilting as he looked back at Reno.

"Ok then. Square one, we've already passed. We've met. Talked a little, we can pretend we just exchanged names. I'm not used to taking days off, even during the summer, but...I think it won't kill me to maybe excuse myself from it for a night. If you're not doing anything Friday, there's a little place not too far from here. How does lunch sound?"

"Sounds kinda gay," Reno replies with a snort and small, sly little smile, arching a brow at the skater before raising both hands in a shrug.

"Lunch it is, then. I'll come around eleven thirty? If it's close we can walk. Talk on the way. About...whatever you want," he shrugs again, tucking his hands in his pockets and taking a step back.

"It was nice meeting you, Emil."

He can't help but laugh about that. "I hate to break it to you, but the entirety of this is gonna be kinda gay."

A large part of him wants to follow after Reno, to cling and be reassuring and demand that Reno let out everything he's feeling. He wants to know everything that happened, he wants to be properly guilty over this so that he can be done with it sooner. But he wants to keep his word and start over and make sure that everything goes well this time around. There's no caveat that requires them to whore themselves to others, and nothing saying they can't just have a normal relationship now.

Well, relatively speaking. The learning curve won't be as extreme for them now.

When Reno backs off, Emil's hand comes up, waving him back over. "Hold on, you still need my number don't you? It'll be easier to coordinate that way." He plucks a slender phone from another pocket, offering it so that Reno can put his own information in, intending to text him right back as soon as it's done.

He takes the phone, holding it thoughtfully before shrugging slightly and holding it back out with a slightly sad, mostly apologetic smile.

"I don't have a phone," Reno explains, chewing one side of his bottom lip with a small shrug, reaching up to scratch the edge of one eyebrow.

"I'm not a legal citizen...I don't have the identification they want for a cellular contract and I didn't want to waste money all the time on burners. I've had to save a lot...chasing you down wasn't cheap," the Turk barks a soft, helpless laugh. It hadn't amounted to much, all those trips, bribes, fake IDs left and right.

"It's okay. I'll figure something out and we'll talk about it at lunch, right?"

Edited 2017-08-29 01:53 (UTC)

Emil nearly vibrates on the spot, wanting to simply offer to put Reno on his own plan, to get him a phone and help him set up faster and easier. He keeps the thought to himself though, instead rubbing his hand along the underside of his jaw in thought. He takes his phone back and lifts it briefly, considering whether he should at least take a photo of the two of them together. A new one tucked away with all the rest. Proof to give his friends that he wasn't just making it all up in his mind.

He'll refrain for now though. If he takes a picture, he might want to put it up on his social media, and who knows what Reno will say about that.

"If you want, I can help you put together paperwork. ID and things. If you've got a criminal record...that actually helps a little, establishing a timeline, kind of. It gives you a presence. It also looks good when you start 'cleaning up'. Just. Let me know what you want to do next ok?"

He'd probably be pleased as punch, really. Proof that he still mattered when he was trying very hard not to feel like he didn't.

"That's gonna look great to your friends, huh? Criminal boyfriend. Tch," he sighs, not terribly proud of what he'd had to do. He doesn't really regret much of it, since he stayed out of anything violent and had a reputation for being fair with people, even if extorting them. Doesn't mean he's got anything to be proud of.

"I'll ask questions about papers myself. You've got enough to worry about without worrying about me, too. Mind yourself," the redhead sighs, scratching the side of his face before tapping a foot.

"Write your number down for me. I'll call you when I can from the phone in the shop near my place, alright?"

Emil nods some, still looking a little unsure, like he really does just want to take care of it himself if only for the sake of his own conscience. But Reno does have a point when it comes to getting the work together himself. They'd figure this out.

He laughs a little, waving off the concern. "At first, yeah, they might be worried but as soon as they see you're not in it for money or anything like that and you aren't getting me in trouble they'll ease up. Besides, when they see you skate- have you kept up on it? Or should I teach you how not to fall over again?" He smiles a little more brightly at that, slipping a hand into one of his pockets for a receipt, as well as a mechanical pencil he has to click a few times before the lead pops out. His number goes on the receipt for Reno to hold onto.

He pauses in the act of holding it out, figuring that he could risk taking that picture, even if he's not sharing it with anyone.

"Er...can I? Since I don't have anything but the old pictures..."

"Tch. I can skate," he mutters, glancing off to the side a bit huffily. He could skate. He could skate extremely well now, but without legal legitimacy, there was no way to go forward with skating, and he'd never gotten any interested sponsors. Of course, the rinks he skated weren't important enough to attract that kind of attention, anyways.

"What?" Reno murmurs, looking up from the numer he was trying to memorize - just in case - before realizing what was being asked.

"You have to ask? Since when have I been camera shy?"

"Just figured I should ask, given the whole criminal thing," Emil replies with a shrug before moving himself to Reno's side, taking his hand out of sight of the camera and taking a frankly handsome selfie of the two of them. Undeniable proof that this is, in fact, his Reno. He eases away after taking a couple of shots, facing the other man again.

"Then maybe we can go to one of the rinks soon. I really want to see how good you are now."

"I'm not a fuckin' terrorist, Emil. Sheesh, gimme some credit," he grumbles, reaching up and checking his hair and ever-present goggles before leaning in and smiling for the photo.

"Mm...well, maybe that can be one of our dates," the redhead snorts, smirking softly and raising both hands out in a shrug. Not like he was going to let Emil say they needed to start over without dragging it out until the other man regretted and reneged on the decision. It's not even a competition, but Reno has to win.

"You gonna go inside now or keep standin' here? I got calls to make and work to do before I can quit my job and cross my fingers I don't end up in serious drama."

The joke would be on Reno at that point, because Emil would eat up the chance to do this even if they did it slowly. So it would be a war of attrition until they got back to the point that they had been.

"That's an excellent idea. We could do that when you're a little less busy. You can definitely leave messages even if I don't pick up. I can't really bring my phone with me onto the ice."

He snorts quietly and waves Reno off then, stepping back toward the door. His smile fades a little with the sudden anxiety that this was going to be the last time he saw Reno again. "Fine ok I'll get out of your hair. But seriously, you have to call me when you're done with all of that."

He sees the faltering expression, knows it's source because he shares the feeling. Eventually he steps forward, reaching into Emil's pocket to get the pencil, tearing the receipt in half and writing an address down, handing it to the skater.

"Don't come here unless it's an emergency, alright? It's not a good place for someone like you. I'm not going anywhere, Emil. I've been here waiting for years...I don't think a few months will be the end of us, hm?" Reno murmurs, sighing softly before cupping the side of the other man's head and leaning it to press a kiss to his hair. That seemed safe enough, right?

"I'll call. Just let it go to voicemail. I hate talking on the phone. You'll get to hear the dulcet tones of my voice, know I'm still around, and I don't have to feel weird telling you things I should be saying to your face. Rest up. I'll see you later."

Emil looks down at Reno's hand disappearing into his pocket, then at the address on the other half of the receipt. He reads it over when it's handed to him, brow furrowed. He knows this general area, at least through reputation. He'd only survive going through here by dint of looking tougher than he actually is. Not a good area of the city by any means. He's not all that surprised that Reno has made his home there.

"Okay..." He folds the paper carefully and tucks it into his wallet for safe keeping, about to say his goodnight and head inside, until Reno kisses his head. He can't help but lean into the gesture, eyes closing. "Okay. I'll let numbers I don't recognize go straight to voicemail. I want to hear all about what you've been up to since you've been here." He looks back at Reno with a slightly wobbly smile and wraps one arm around his shoulders, drawing him into a tight hug.

"Stay safe out there, huh?"

He straightens back up to head inside after that, giving a last look back and a slightly too bright smile; he'd just have to convince himself that this really was going to work out for them. He heads up the narrow stairs with his phone up, typing out as fast as his thumbs can move a message to one of his closest friends. He includes the picture of the two of them together after making her swear that she wouldn't show it to anyone else, or post it online. She was reluctant until he sent it.

The rest of the night was spent on a FaceTime call between them, interrupted by her brother only once, attracted by the unusually grave tone of Emil's voice. He's immediately threatening, insisting that if this "dream guy" did anything at all to compromise Emil's safety that he'd fly out of Naples personally to knock him out. Emil couldn't help but laugh at the idea, soothing Michele with the assurance that he'd do it himself if it came to that. Even though all three of them knew otherwise.

When he finally sleeps there are no dreams, no anxious lonely spotlights, no hyper-realistic memories, no awful what-ifs. Just peace.

By the time the lunch date comes about, Emil is waiting outside his apartment building, dressed as casually as ever, a pair of wristbands hiding his cuff augments from general view. He pulls at them anxiously, glancing up and down the street, valiantly ignoring the sneaky little voice trying to convince him not to get his hopes up.

Edited 2017-08-30 10:53 (UTC)

"Safe? Me? Please," the Turk snorts, rolling his eyes and smiling, hugging back because it felt right and good. He still let go, sliding away with no small amount of reluctance. Nodding, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and heads off, though he stops just around a corner, watching Emil leave, watching movement behind windows, watching the locale.

A nice place for a nice boy, where his home was a bad place for a bad boy.

Almost like starting over all the way back in the beginning, when he was still a stupid teenager. Back before he'd done horrible things just to get by.

Can people really start fresh? Completely? Maybe, he muses, smiling to himself and making his meandering way home. Back to his mattress on the floor, his milk-crate shelves, his box TV and his empty fridge. Except now he doesn't have to hate his empty space so much anymore, a little bearded ray of light in an otherwise dismal day keeping him above water.

Getting his hopes up was harmless in the end, the familiar shock of red hair turning a corner. He was in a hideous Hawaiian shirt and khaki slacks with brown loafers, an expensive-looking watch on one wrist looked at quite pointedly as he walks up, smirking at the skater.

"What's this, so eager to get lunch you're waiting outside ahead of time? Tsk, I hope you weren't left hungry too long?"

"What was that? I couldn't hear you over that shirt," Emil teases, grinning as his hand lights on Reno's shoulder, leaning in and bumping his jaw against Reno's in an easy greeting. "I couldn't help it, I was hungry. I'd even debated on leaving without you."

He hops off the step he'd been perched on, his hands tucking into his pockets, posture a little bit slouched as he relaxed at Reno's side. "So what did you have in mind? If anything. I know there are a few places we won't go broke for big portions."

"You said you already had a place in mind," the Turk murmurs, busy looking down at his shirt and trying to find any fault in the blue birds and bright pineapples on a background of palm trees and badly drawn waves. Well...maybe it's a little loud. But only a little!

"Leaving without me? I really don't think you should make it a trend," he remarks dryly, arching a brow at the other man. He raises a hand before Emil can protest the unfair comment.

"It's a joke. I'm over it. I freaked out for the first few months. By now I'm just..." he shrugs, unable to really describe his state of mind beyond 'fine', which was never an accurate enough assessment. Fine described an Amazon package, not a person's feelings.

"Anywhere that has crepes, if you know them. I'm a fuckin' sucker for crepes. They're the coolest thing. Breakfast? Crepe. Lunch? Crepe. Dinner? Crepe. Dessert? CREPE. There's nothin' you can't get!"

It is a loud and awful shirt and Emil actually likes it, at least on Reno. It's very indicative of...something. Maybe not his fashion sense.

Reno's joke catches him a little offguard and his smile fades, eyes going down to the sidewalk. He wouldn't start an argument about this, but that stung. Reno might claim that he's ok now, but that's not something Emil can honestly say.

The question of crepes is a distraction at least, and Emil seriously considers if he knows anywhere that has them that's not fancy and overpriced. He nods after a moment, pulling up a location on his phone so that Reno could see where they're going. It's a little longer of a walk, but he's fine with that. It would give them a little more time to just have time together. He doesn't trust himself to speak back up yet though.

redheadedstepson Terra Firma

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