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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.

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It's such a blow to his pride: Manabu remembers assuring, in no uncertain terms, that he'd disregard the powers that be and simply hang onto his memories. Because those are his to control, right? And that's not even factoring how it might've hurt Brendan to have been separated for however long.

And so much has happened since...so much that was out of his control. The dimensional attacks. Vega Platoon. Bruce...

"Khh...hh..."

His hold's maybe a bit too tight, as if anything less is going to see Brendan ripped away from him. His teeth grit tight while he fights his tears back, pressing his face into his shoulder. I'm better than this. I'm--I need to be better than this!

The door slides open, and the squat, faceless conductor holds out his hand.

"Tickets plea...se..."

After just a beat and a couple finger twitches, the door slides shut without any argument. Manabu makes a weird, wheezing noise at the click of the door, finally deflating out of this worked-up tenseness he's gotten himself all up into.

He sniffs, withdrawing to hold Brendan at arm's length, looking up. Still up...he's still taller. Still...him. The soft, sad, constantly keen eyes and mess of hair. He's exactly the same as he remembers, because he remembers it barely being a day, even though it's been more than that.

Time and space are weird.

"Brendan..." He gulps, clearing out some of the knot in his throat. "How--"

The blaring whistle cuts him off, as does the rattle of the car under their feet. Manabu blinks, realizing where they are -- and going -- and that Brendan's not...

"Wait, first!" He gives Brendan a little push for him to sit down, himself climbing onto the seat opposite on his knees, fidgeting with the latches on their window. He slides it down as the 999 starts away from the station, toward the launchpoint: the tracks that climb higher and higher in the slope of a J to send them up and out of the atmosphere.

"You've never seen this before. You need to watch!"

Brendan shuts his eyes and tries to breathe. He wants to cry, too, but it'll only make Manabu feel worse when they're not really sad tears, they're relieved ones. He's so relieved that they're together, that he's not dead, that somehow they managed to find each other again, and the immensity of it all makes him want to cry and kiss Manabu until they're both breathless and then hold him until the end of time. Under any other circumstances that'd be dramatic even for him, but given they'd swapped worlds again and found each other, it almost seems like that wouldn't be enough.

Manabu can hold him as tightly as he wants. It doesn't hurt badly, it hurts good, a yes-this-is-real kind of hurt, a I-love-you kind of pain he never thought he'd feel again. If Manabu weren't so naive about sex Brendan would be tempted to get physical with him just to show him he cares, he's real, they're both here, it's okay, but he's too busy trying to savor the moment to do anything more than stand there. He feels more like he's come home than if he'd gone back to San Clemente, honestly.

He looks into his boyfriend's eyes and smiles weakly at his open amazement. He's kind of grateful for whatever's distracted him, because he doesn't have an answer for how he got here. Manabu fell in love with an English Lit. major, not a Temporal Sciences one. Watching Manabu scramble with the window, he feels himself being filled up with more emotions he can't put names to. He missed this frantic energy, this blur of motion and cut off words that made up the man he loves.

"Good to see time didn't change you," he deadpans, cheeky as ever, but there's no malice to it. His hand seeks out Manabu's and holds onto it, unwilling to lose contact with him. "What am I watching for, doll face?"

"You'll see, you'll see," he says, ducking his head back in and having a seat next to him, forcing him over toward the window by just scooching over. His eyes are bright, eager to see Brendan see the kind of things that Manabu's told him about over and over again. Words don't really do it all justice, though...especially not his crummy words.

While the 999 picks up speed, they pass the first of the many ringed gates that'll line the "track" off-planet, the ones that keep the train safe from the vacuum. With his free hand, he scrubs at his face, wiping evidence of tears he'd stained Brendan's shirt with. The other hand first tightens its hold on his, then loosens to fidget, lace their fingers tight together, and settle again.

"Look," he says, leaning against Brendan's shoulder so he can see it, too. "We launch at the end of the track just ahead. And then..."

And then it'll just be stars and the light from faraway planets and moons.

It's nice, being back beside Manabu, seeing him go from 11 to 8 to 4 on a scale of one to ten in under a minute. In a way, that's why they work so well - Manabu's the only one whose mood swings faster than Brendan's, possibly in several universes. Brendan is most decidedly not a smiley person most of the time, but he grins at his boyfriend like a lovestruck idiot for a moment.

He doesn't quite know what to say in this moment. This is everything he didn't know he wanted: space, a new world, all his old baggage and problems and fuck ups left behind, stars in the sky to match the ones in Manabu's eyes, and it's all so perfect he doesn't dare say anything to ruin the moment, gazing out at the vastness of space for several long moments after they launch.

Usually it took a lot to render him speechless, but frankly he doesn't have words for any of this that would do justice to the rising swell of joy and peace and, despite his determination to stay jaded, wonder.

Breaking through the threshold of the atmosphere and rushing into the cold of space is something Manabu has yet to tire of; it's that feeling of surpassing the impossible, going where life can barely cope, and using it to thrive and trace out the maps to their ambitions is something he holds on to more and more. After all that's happened, the things he's lost and learned...and found again...it makes the empty black of space more full of possibility and honesty than it had been before.

His eyes leave the window and settle on Brendan, happy to watch his reaction -- one he'd imagined before, daydreaming about how he could pry this sad young man away from the ties to the worst of his past for a while and show him how bright and good things could be in the future. It makes his heart swell, as if just this is proof enough.

"It's like that every time," he says at last, daring to break the reverent peace in the cabin. "And...you can see that as many times as you want, for as long as you're here." His mouth quirks into a sheepish grin, his cheeks red.

"Pretty neat, right?"

He can't come up with one of his usual quips. Everything is wonderful, beautiful, different, and holy shit it's over. All that bad blood he'd built up between himself and legions of people back home, the drama he kept finding himself involved in back when he was living with Archie and fucking up his friends' lives, it's all literally worlds away. He will never have to live with all of that hanging over his head like a dark cloud again and it's so freeing that he just nods in response to Manabu initially, feeling like he's gotten another chance at life entirely.

Brendan deserves second chances the least of anyone he knows, but he can try to make the most of it for Manabu's sake. "I think I might be here permanently, Sunset. Don't ask me why, I just... it's a gut-feeling thing." He looks at Manabu, less tired than before, even if he's still just as lost. "Whatever the case is, I go where you do, here. We'll see it all together, if you want. 'Cause yeah, it's neat, but it's even better being with you."

"Eheh..."

Brendan just says whatever he pleases so brazenly, as always. Manabu's more endeared than frazzled by it this time, of course. It makes him happy to hear him talk like that -- certain in hope, in keeping good things with him. Himself, included -- there's no denying that delights him, too, and makes his stomach do a little flip.

So...he has to take this good luck and really stretch it out, right? For all it's worth. Otherwise...well. He can imagine the crap Bruce would've flung at him for wasting it. Because he'd know better than anyone that things can change at the drop of a hat.

"I think so, too," he says, squeezing Brendan's hand for a second. Just a bracing second. He then sits up to better lean and reach him, kissing the corner of his mouth, off-target as he tends to be when being spontaneous.

Even swapping worlds again wasn't enough to give Brendan a filter. Frankly, he doubted if anything would. At least they're in private where it's not quite as offputting this time around. He glances down at their hands and feels the exact opposite of homesick. Not returning to his world is more than fine, if Manabu is here beside him.

The shock of Manabu actually making the first move for once floors him, and for a moment his jaw drops and he tries to comprehend what just happened. Then he's kissing Manabu back, firmly, feeling another wave of elation hit him when he realizes, again, that this is real, they're together, and that's all he's ever wanted.

He doesn't notice the happy tears spilling down his cheeks at all. "Sunset," he murmurs against Manabu's lips, lost totally in the moment, "Manabu. I love you. I should've said it more, before. But I'm gonna say it more, now: I love you. And I wanna have a future here, with you. Together. 'Cause you're all I need."

This is the kind of language Manabu's still trying to learn -- still trying to no longer be afraid of. But at least, here, there's no pressure to do anything but simply be, and that's easy. It's the kind of bar he'll suspect is suspiciously too low, of course, but...later, not now.

"Mm-mn," he says, withdrawing a little so he can look back at Brendan. "You'll need more than some SDF officer to make your way out here. You'll need some ID, clothes, a place to stay, something to do..."

He lifts his free hand and brings it up, carefully bringing it to the side of Brendan's face, using his thumb to swipe at some of those tears. Brendan's still taller, but...smaller, here, because of this table-flip of worlds. Now Manabu can take the lead.

"But that's not going to be a problem, because I'll be there the whole time, yeah? It's a promise. I won't ever abandon the person I love."

They've got time, now, here, for Manabu to learn how to get used to that kind of talk and for Brendan to learn to tone back the more intense aspects of his personality when it comes to romance. It won't be without mistakes, sure, but he's not afraid to try with Manabu, because he knows Manabu won't give up on him. They'll figure this love thing out if they've got each other to lean on.

He sighs slightly. He can't forge IDs here like back home or even the makeshift ones for bars he'd used back when they had superpowers. That'll take some getting used to. Living life honestly as a whole is a huge change. He never thought of himself as someone who could have a real chance at that sort of life.

Leaning his head into Manabu's hand, though, looking into his eyes, he thinks he could try. "I know you will be. You'd never have left if that damn Porter gave you a choice in it. I'll find something to do - something not dubiously legal, for once, 'cause I owe it to you to be better than that here. We'll make it. I'll make smart-aleck remarks the whole way, but don't ever doubt that I'm gonna try my hardest and that there's nowhere else I'd rather be, Sunset."

"Mm!" Manabu smile gives off some of that typical energy he gets when he's got his mind set on working hard. "I know. So work hard, yeah? I've got your back. For certain."

He says so twice -- once aloud, and again by leaning forward to kiss him properly. His...'accent' is a bit rough and needs work, but there's no shortage of earnestness behind his effort. It's a kiss that carries all the good will he feels...and the anxieties, because offering up everything means nothing gets left behind like lost luggage. An earnest, honest effort to try his best, even when he doesn't understand. It's the same kind of promise he's always made, just...articulated better now, more confidently.

It's the kind of kiss he'd see in those cheesy romance films on TV right at the end, where things pan out at the train or carriage or whatever is heading off into the sunset and the credits go up. And even though that's the last anyone ever sees of the lovers riding along, there's no doubts about the happy ending.

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