Afterwards, they do a race. They don’t talk about it, but it’s there, between them still. Something settled between them. Cleo doesn’t know how to say it; they never know how to say things like this. Still, they need to, so they wait until Ren’s race is over and then hike through the jungle to go sit on top of Etho’s base and wait for him to show up as well.
He doesn’t. He’d gone to their base. Instead of just showing up for each other, they have to somewhat awkwardly coordinate over text which base to meet at. It forces everything to feel more real.
When they finally meet up, it’s in the shopping district, leaning against the button. A dangerous game in theory, but Cleo’s not fully convinced it can explode at this point, so.
Cleo breathes. They’re both quiet for a moment.
"Okay, so like, are we doing this?" Cleo says.
"I don’t really know, uh, what this is," Etho says, "but I… care about you. I think. So I think we’re doing that."
Cleo nods once. "You know I don’t fall in love, right? I’m not going to fall in love with you, I don’t do that. Might say something about loving you, but it’s not the same thing. Different sense of the word. It’s different, loving people and falling in love, got it? And I won’t do that second thing. I’m never going to do that second thing. I don’t--"
"Okay. I know," Etho says.
"Do you?" Cleo asks.
"I mean, not entirely, but I’m frankly surprised we’re having this conversation in the first place. I never expected you to be in love with me."
"But I’m not," Cleo says. "I’m attracted to you, and I love you as like, a companion and friend or whatever, but I’m not in love with you. I’m. Ugh. I wish I knew the right words. I just--I also don’t let go of things so if we’re doing this you’re going to have to get used to that real fast. Me not being in love with you but me not letting you go, both of those things."
"You're attracted to me? Aw, Cleo," Etho says.
"Don't be an ass," Cleo says.
"Sorry, sorry. It's just, geez, this is--a heavy conversation, huh?"
Cleo sighs. "We'll work on the deflection."
Etho rubs the back of his head and looks away. "Uh, in that case. If I'm maybe a little in love with you--"
"I can't--I can't reciprocate that, Etho," Cleo says, and their voice cracks as they do.
"I know," Etho says. "I just want to make sure it's okay, then."
"You can't help that, can you? Just like I can't help that I still sort of want to kill anyone who hurts you."
Etho seems to think about it for a while. Cleo resists the urge to fidget. She's a zombie. She shouldn't have the urge to fidget; she should be too dead for that. Besides, it's hardly like it's a secret she doesn't fall in love, exactly. It's just... it's only relevant sometimes. Feeling like, as she watches Etho and Bdubs dance around each other, she's on the outside looking in. She'd kill to hold their hands, to protect them, hell, even to kiss them--but that's different. She just can't summon the same emotion of... she doesn't know.
Martyn had almost gotten it, for all he didn't get anything else, in the end. Scott was never going to fall in love with her in the first place, for obvious reasons. Whatever attraction she and Pearl have going on, it's definitely not love.
But this...
"Okay," Etho says.
"That's it?" Cleo says.
"I mean, does it need to be anything else?" Etho says. "It's not like we can just... not do this. I think it's too late for that. Whatever 'this' is. I'm in love, and you aren't, but we'd both be pretty upset to lose this, right? So I'll... figure it out."
Cleo swallows. They feel small. "Will you? Do you understand?"
Etho shrugs. "I understand that it's you, and it's you that this happened with, not anyone else."
"Okay," Cleo says. "Okay."
"Is it okay if I kiss you? Just to try it, I mean. Not like, as a--this is a bad time, actually, I don't want to try to make any kissing we do romantic, I mean, you just told me this won't be romantic, I--"
"Yeah, sure, you can kiss me," Cleo says, and he leans in to kiss them. It's nice. A little soft for what they'd want, really, but nice. He leans back. He looks them in the eyes.
"I get it a little more now."
Cleo is baffled. "How? Kissing is just like, a thing we did? How does that have anything to do with any of the rest of this."
Etho laughs. "I definitely get it a little more now. What do you want to tell the others? I know they're definitely gossiping."
"Ugh. Can we just, like, not?" Cleo says. "I don't want to have to explain it."
"I'll just be confusing then, got it," Etho says, and Cleo can't help but laugh themselves.
"This is why you're my favorite," Cleo says, and they think maybe this will work out okay, after all.
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KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s expression is difficult to place as he ponders the mural.
THE NEXT WORLD MURAL — “TRUE LOVE IS POSSIBLE ONLY IN THE NEXT WORLD— FOR NEW PEOPLE. IT IS TOO LATE FOR US. WREAK HAVOC ON THE MIDDLE CLASS.”
INLAND EMPIRE — Right on.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — What a slogan! So many layers in so few words. Perfectly crafted to grab one’s attention and keep hold of it for long after you’ve passed by. You wish you’d thought of it.
“Truer words were never spoken.”
“What a fuckin’ bummer, am I right?”
“Not bad, but I like the one we painted in Martinaise better.”
KIM KITSURAGI — “You mean, the one *you* painted,” he says pointedly. “I had nothing to do with that.”
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — He did like your mural. He’s just never gonna admit it. He’s too committed to the bit.
THE NEXT WORLD MURAL — The words seem to tower over you as you and your partner take them in. Once again, you can’t help but wonder how the Belles Lettres managed to paint this monstrously massive mural without being seen.
VISUAL CALCULUS — Surely there must have been scaffolding involved, or some kind of machinery.
LOGIC — They were seen. Just not by anyone who would disturb their work, or sell them out to the police. Which, if the results of the vote are anything to go by, would be most of the people of Jamrock.
“What do you think about the part about true love, Kim?”
“What do you think about the part about the middle class, Kim?”
“Did you know there was a vote on whether or not to remove the mural?”
KIM KITSURAGI — “We did hear about it back at 57,” he admits. “It’s rare for your district to organize a vote like that. Or any district, for that matter…”
He frowns slightly, peering up at the embracing couple. “I’ll admit, when I heard about it, I had no idea how *big* this thing was. I’m surprised that they voted to keep it. You must be able to see it for miles…”
CONCEPTUALIZATION — Eight stories loud, painted over the corpse of a failed real estate venture. A reminder, a call to action, and a threat, all rolled into one. Constant and inescapable. Oh, yeah. *This* is good stuff.
EMPATHY — It makes the lieutenant uncomfortable.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — That’s the point.
YOU — “How would you have voted?”
KIM KITSURAGI — “I wouldn’t have,” he says drily. “I didn’t live here.”
“All right, fair enough.” (Drop the subject)
“Cmon, Kim. If you *did* live here, which side would you be on?” (Press him)
KIM KITSURAGI — “I don’t know that it’s about taking sides…” His sentence trails as he considers the mural.
PERCEPTION (Sight) — He glances at you for the briefest of moments, and then away. Almost as if he hadn’t meant to do it.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS [Godly: Success] — You make him uncomfortable in much the same way that the mural does. Representative of truths that he doesn’t know what to make of.
There was a time when he dreamt of things like true love. And heroic deeds, and brilliant discoveries, and aerostatic pilots. A home that belonged to him. A table laden with food and crowded with people. The future and the past were polar opposites in his eyes— one a painful collage of loneliness and ostracization, the other a blank canvas, and all the more beautiful for it. It could be anything.
It did not take long for the present to beat it all out of him. And then he blinked, and he was forty-three and alone, having spent twenty years of his life on stubbornness and spite, trying to prove himself to people who didn’t and still don’t care, at the expense of the people that he should have cared for. And he realized it was too late for him.
YOU — Too late for what…?
EMPATHY — To do or be anything different.
KIM KITSURAGI — “…I don’t know,” he finally says. His voice is level, but quiet. “But I can understand why people wanted it to remain.”
He tears his gaze away from the mural at last and looks at you. “What about you? How did you vote?”
YOU — “I can’t remember.”
KIM KITSURAGI — He grimaces slightly. “Right. Sorry…”
“But I think I would have voted for it to go.”
“But I think I would have voted for it to stay.”
KIM KITSURAGI — “That doesn’t surprise me,” he sighs. “I’m sure the part about wreaking havoc on the middle class especially appealed to you.”
“You know it, comrade.”
“No, it was the part about true love being dead.”
“No, it was the part about new people.”
KIM KITSURAGI — He looks at you strangely. “…Oh? What do you make of it?”
“There’s no such thing as new people. We’re all the same, and we’ll always be the same, walking in the same old circles.”
“Fuck the new people and their new world that we’ll never get to see.”
“I think anyone can become a new person if they try. It’s a call to action.”
“Even if it’s too late for us to be new, I think we can still change. And we can still love each other.”
KIM KITSURAGI — He looks for a moment as if he’s going to say something… and then nothing. His lips purse slightly.
EMPATHY [Formidable: Failure] — It’s hard to say what he thinks of your little thesis. Matters of love are tough on him.
COMPOSURE [Legendary: Success] — But you get the feeling that *something* is happening within the lieutenant. There’s a crack in the dam that’s widening every day, and he knows it. He’s afraid to let it happen, but he’s equally powerless to stop it.
INLAND EMPIRE — You’re afraid, too. You’re both the same brand of coward.
VOLITION — You’re both a lot of things that you don’t have to be. It’s too late to have never been them. But it’s not too late to stop.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Stopping is precisely what he’s afraid of. He wonders what of himself will be left if he ceases to be *this.*
That’s selfish. We’re both so selfish.
It would be better if we ceased to be anything at all.
Whatever is left, I’ll still love him.
INLAND EMPIRE — How do you know he *wants* your love?
YOU — I don’t know. But he has it, anyway.
THE NEXT WORLD MURAL — A cold wind rushes past you, sending a chill deep into your bones. Unconsciously, you both step closer to each other. Seeking warmth.
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