Brendan Frye (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pale_blue_arrow) wrote2017-05-05 04:03 pm
pale_blue_arrow) wrote2017-05-05 04:03 pm
Entry tags:
IC Contact Post
This is Brendan Frye. If it's urgent, you might have a better chance o' tracking me down on foot. If I'm not answering, chances are I've gotten in over my head with something, not that I'm refusin' to give you the time of day. So leave me some words and I'll get back to you as soon as I don't have a fire to put out.
[backdate to 5/12]
er, anyway:] About that job thing. It's-- it's actually not a huge deal, like I thought. Honestly, you can just tell them you aren't interested and it was kind of just tossed at you and it should be okay... I mean, I think so. Nobody tossed any papers at me when I did so.
So. There's that. I kept my promise! And...I'll talk to you soon, I guess.
[... ... ...] Let me know if you need any help with anything else, alright?
'Bye!
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Given Manabu seems flighty as ever, he decides a quick text back is probably the best thing, here. And given Manabu has been helpful, Brendan really will attempt not to tease him again. Poor guy needed to learn to set boundaries.]
sorry about that. was asleep. healing factor is boosted by it + i'm not a morning person, my bad.
thanks. i appreciate you helping a newbie out. ♥
you wanna hang out sometime? my housemate has informed me i'm unhealthily antisocial + i have some other less pressing questions about stuff around here
it's cool if not, no pressure.
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can we handwave this in light of the course the other thread is taking?
YUP was thinking the same thing
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You're off the teaching hook for a little bit looks like!
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and if you ever decide you wanna do college i'll help you study for the ACT and SAT tests too. dunno what you'd major in but it's a thought to distract you while we wait for the good news.
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text;
I should have handled that better, not just the other night, but from the start.
Sorry isn't enough, I know that, but if you will allow it, I would like to make it up to you.
text; about twenty minutes later, just assume all replies are slow in-universe
i'm not mad. it's not okay, but i'm not angry. you don't have to do anything you don't want to, doll. just take care of yourself and that spun-glass heart of yours, okay?
i need somebody i know to be okay. please.
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text;
[He remembers other parts of that night as well, but in bits and pieces. Blurry and faded out. Holding onto a girl with an alarmingly similar face to Terra's, feeling like she was a life raft. Raiding a fridge alongside a blonde with a thick accent. Brendan's face, flushed and close while they danced.
Cool. That happened.]
text;
text; shhhhhh I ain't here
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text;
Brendan, right? We need to talk.
text;
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7/10; voicemail
So...So, just keep your ears peeled for that kind of thing. Especially if you wind up at one of those big ImPort gatherings, like the swear-ins. I have kind of a bad feeling about the next one...
[beat.
hastily:] But, but it should be alright! Anyway. I'll talk to you later. 'Bye!
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what's going on? what's happening? are you safe?
failure to answer within thirty minutes will make me storm your house like a castle, for the record.
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FRIDGE AIN'T STOCKED IN CASE YOU'RE NOT BACK YET BUT THERE'S $200 UNDER THE MICROWAVE IF YOU NEED ANYTHING.
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have fun, use protection, liquor before beer never fear, and don't worry, i can stock the fridge forever and a day with that kind of cash
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7/30
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text;
-Charles
text;
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As I am sure you am already aware. And still, no apology.
I thought we were working towards okay, before all that.
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i'm not sure if this is breaking the no contact rule but at least now you know.
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Clones are a thing and Yusuke's sucked and...
I really shouldn't be bothering you with this but I'm pretty sure we're all in over our heads anyway and it's not good so...Reaching out I guess. You wanted to get Yusuke help once...would you still be wanting to lend a hand if it meant getting him out of a shit situation?
[She's been hanging around and talking to Yuri too much, given her adoption of some of his vernacular, but that's literally the only way to describe this mess--a shit situation.]
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Invitation
text; backdated to late August
Re: text; backdated to late August
2. i built them pre-therapy, pre-medication
3. i have a right to want to protect my friends from the dangers this place has
4. given i'm the only one who knows how to detonate them, the only person likely to get killed by them are potential intruders/clones/supervillains or me.
5. nice of you to remember i exist, angel-hair.
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[text]
2: There's a pool party this Friday, want to come hang out there?
[It's possible Veronica did not think that second question through.]
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i'm aquaphobic so thanks for the thought, god knows i need to be more social, but i'll pass. i can't swim anyway, i'd be the awkward guy standing in the corner and nobody likes that guy.
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audio
...That sounds really ominous. It's not bad, honest. I just gotta ask ya some stuff.
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text, like 40 minutes later
Re: text, like 40 minutes later
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9/13, a.m.
I'm sorry but I need to cancel plans this week. I had some trouble out in Maurtia Falls...
Re: 9/13, a.m.
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text;
Are you okay?
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am i a shitty boyfriend if i don't know how to be comforting in this situation? 'cause i have no clue what to do, here.
text;
text;
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10/6, afternoon
Got a sec? I need an opinion on something
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I SPELLED HIS NAME WRONG IN AN EDIT????? shoot me
/shoots with paintball gun
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text;
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four if we're gonna count blowjobs
none with steady boyfriends though. i have commitment issues + i always ended up back with my girlfriend.
...why do you ask?
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keysmash answer is acceptable
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[Attached are pictures of Scout at various places he'd tracked Manabu's scent to, befriending humans of all kinds, getting belly rubs, and licking many a face happily.]
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dated around the 5th?
scarlet and scout are safe.
are you okay?
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good
i've been out of intensive care for a day and a half now
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THIS IS HOW IT ENDS.
Manabu gnaws on a snack stick while his mother's voice continues listing off all of the things he confirmed with her on his way out the door twenty minutes prior from his earpiece phone. He makes a few grunts and affirmative sounds in-between as he paces the small arrival deck of his hometown's train station, waiting for his ride back to HQ. He's in his SDF blues, which is all the ticket he'll need for the trip; now it's just a matter of waiting.
"Eh-?" he crunches the stick in half out of surprise. "M-Mom, come on...you already sent so much food last month...I can get half that stuff at HQ!"
But it's not the same, of course. Of course. He sighs, his eyes swiveling to the clock on the wall opposite the tracks. And, as if on queue, he hears the distant whistle of the incoming train.
"Look, I--train's here, so I gotta go, alright?" He scratches the back of his head sheepishly, shrugging at the shoulder strap of his laundry bag hoisted on his back. "Ye-yeah, love you, too. I'll see you later. 'Bye."
He sighs, turning off the call and giving a little glance about him, not keen on being eavesdropped on when he's talking to his mom. Childish, sure, but hey. Some things are grown out more slowly than others.
The Express train 999 is a particularly old model, and more than that, just plain...peculiar. Perhaps not in ways many people realize, either -- and definitely not in ways Manabu notices upon boarding. For one thing, it's the very same one that carried his brother away: it was through one of these windows Mamoru tossed Manabu their baseball for safe keeping. The character of this train is rather unknown, save to its passengers, for unlike other trains, this one seems to ferry its riders to bigger destinies than the ones they walked on with.
Most just don't know it yet.
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Then it comes to a stop and he gets off, moving on automatic, and sees-
“Sunset?”
Oh, that’s what that feeling is. I’m home, he thinks, and then he’s walking up to him, so relieved to see that familiar blue uniform, that soft fluffy hair, those kind eyes he’d spent so much time looking into. Only when he wraps his arms around Manabu does he realize just how badly he’s been missing him this whole time. He shuts his eyes, willing tears not to come.
Brendan knows he should be dead. He should be dead on a California house floor in the rotten-to-the-core town of San Clemente, should have bled out, shouldn’t be here under any circumstances, but somehow he’s here. Somehow he’s here, and there’s nowhere else in the universe he’d rather be.
“Hey,” he says softly, suddenly shy, stepping back to wipe at his eyes. “I missed you.”
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