How lovely the silence of growing things

[Ripper Nightshade]

"I think you'll know."

Somehow, people just... knew. The way Rip knew when he had that dream about Brayden. He knew. And he also knew, he wasn't his. But when he met him, it only strengthened the feeling. It wasn't really for him, and he knew that in the logical part of his mind. It was the Jack in him that felt it. Slowly, Rip lowered his hand and made little motions in the water.

"I know you'll know. I felt it and it's not something you can mistake for anything else."

And when Mik found him, even if Mik wanted to love Rip and even if he did love Rip, the rightness, the sense of being connected would be so strong. There was no way he would be able to deny it for long. He let out a soft little laugh as he looked back up at Mik.

"And he will be. The best for you. That's what makes you soulmates, Mik. Two halves of one whole."

[Mikko Ashby]

Mik knew next to nothing about soul mates and how they worked but he knew that he disliked the idea of being forced to have one. What did Lieve say though? That he might not have one? Or he might never meet the guy. But having him out there still didn't sit right with him because he valued his freedom of choice so much.

What would happen to Rip if or when Mik found this soul mate? Where would Rip go? What would he do? Would he try to deactivate himself? That was such an ugly, ugly thought. A repugnant thought. Not having Rip... on this Earth, that was just unacceptable!

"Well baby," Mik said at last, pursing his lips as he stroked Rip's cheek. "If your soul mate is the best person for you, who will never hurt you and who supports all your hopes and dreams, then--obviously for you, that person is me. And if I'm your soul mate, you have to be mine. So."

Logic. Mik was choosing his own man, thank-you-very-much!

[Ripper Nightshade]

That... that didn't sound right to Rip, though. Anybody could be the best person, who never hurt him and supported him... Well, not just anybody, obviously. But... Mik might not be the only one. Rip wasn't even mostly concerned with himself at this juncture. He didn't want to hold Mik back just because he was here first.

"I just..."

But he also didn't think Mik wanted to hear it. Mik seemed to be pretty stubborn about the whole soulmate deal but that was because he had yet to fully understand it. One day, though, he would. One day.

Moving away from Mik, he grasped onto the edge of the tub and climbed out. Suddenly, he didn't feel like being there anymore. It was nice--while it lasted--but now he just... he wanted to go to sleep (and never wake up). He wasn't even supposed to need sleep but he felt like he just... needed to lie down for a long, long time.

He kept questioning himself. Why he was built, if only to be one way and then twisted to be another when his creator couldn't get what he wanted. Why a soul was chosen to be placed inside of him. Why it wanted what it could never have. He really wished--he did--that Mik could be his soulmate. But he also felt, deep down inside, that it was not the case.

He grabbed one of the towels from the shelf and he wrapped it around himself, only half aware he was still dripping all over the tile floor. He left the bathroom and he didn't know where he was going or why. Just... out. He wandered into the kitchen and around it before going back down the hall and into the bedroom, where he eventually sat on the edge of the bed, still wet, still wrapped with a towel--around his arms, where he didn't even need it.

"Divination," he said finally, "will tell you when you'll meet him. Sometimes even where. Sometimes even a description of who. Depends on who you talk to."

[Mikko Ashby]

"Wha—?"

He just... left. He up and left and Mik, stunned, was left sitting up in the tub floating aimlessly while Rip—seemingly in a trance—wrapped a towel around himself and walked off. "Well—you can't just leave me here!" He called out, exasperated and indignant, splashing the water with his hands in a futile attempt to express how utterly baffled he was. All this talk about soul mates was entirely upsetting! For both of them!

Tell somebody in love that the person they were mad crazy about wasn't the one and that there would surely be some other bitch soon to arrive on the scene to steal his heart—well that was just pouring a bucket of ice down his pants! It was deeply unpleasant. Mik wanted to believe that he had a choice. That maybe... sure, he had a soul mate in theory, but that if things like souls growing and choosing a new soul mate were possible, that maybe it held true for him too. Maybe his soul mate could change just the same way.

He got out of the tub and grabbed a fluffy—worn—towel. It was fluffy because it was worn, but it soaked up all the water well, the way only long-used towels could. Then he let it fall as he hurried out to follow Rip, finding him in the bedroom sitting on the bed, soaking a corner of it. Mik stood in the doorway, arms akimbo, naked as the day he was born. Frowning.

"That other guy can suck it." He strode across the room and sat himself down beside Rip, reaching over to guide his face up to look at Mik. "Listen up, you. What I'm trying to tell you, if you'd listen, is... It doesn't matter who my soul mate is, or who yours is, or if we end up together for a year or for the rest of our lives. None of that matters. I'm here for you. Always."

His expression softened; the frown disappeared. "As long as I'm alive, you'll always have a home. Got it? I'm never going to abandon you. And you'd damn well better never abandon me!"

[Ripper Nightshade]

Yes, divination. Divination would lead Mik to his one and only. Mik had one, he must have one. Wasn't that how soulmates worked? Rip didn't know, either. Whether they were sort of... assigned one at birth or if they grew to become that way or or or...

He didn't know. He didn't know anything. Except that he couldn't have. Rip couldn't have things. He wanted them--so, so badly. Kittens and goldfish and a cozy, tiny place of their own. And Mik, who was the first person to see him as more than a golem. Raphael was nice to him and Allie only treated him well because he thought he was Jack. But Mik, Mik only saw Rip and there were no preconceived notions about him.... even after Lieve tried to explain things and put things "right."

It was just... having felt it, having seen it... He felt it in his tiny little soul that they were not soulmates. And he knew part of it was because his soul had yet to grow fully into its own. He just... he had to be patient. But what about Mik?

He looked up when he was bid to by Mik's hands and he stared into his eyes. He felt the passion behind his words and the truth of them, too. A year or forever. Rip slowly dropped his gaze.

"I wasn't... I'm not abandoning you. I could never..."

[Mikko Ashby]

Whatever fate or the universe had in store for him, Mik wasn't having it. He was not. Having. Any of it. On sheer stubbornness alone, Mik got full points. With a tilt of the head and a tightening of the jaw, he openly defied the gods. There were gods all around him, beside him, everywhere and yes, he defied them all.

He snorted as Rip lowered his gaze. Mik didn't let go of his jaw though. He kept Rip's head up, held it up when Rip couldn't seem to hold it up high on his own. "You literally left me back there in the tub." Which he did—Rip did just abandon him in the tub. It wasn't like Mik would remember that moment forever but it counted, too. Small things counted. Small offenses but... also small kindnesses. Small slices of happiness that were shared between them, building up unnoticed over time to form a whole. Small things like that, their impact wasn't realized until the very end.

"And deactivation?" His tone grew grim. Being deactivated meant abandoning him forever, didn't it?

[Ripper Nightshade]

Rip moved his head away from Mik and his hand. His words were damning. Rip said he would never, after just having done what he would never do. They were already setting off on the wrong foot here. He got up, off the bed. But he didn't leave the room. He just held the towel close to his body like it was his only armor. Maybe it was, even if it only covered his shoulders and partway down his back.

"I wanted you to deactivate me." As if that made it different. As if the person doing it would not be hurt. He looked down again, at the floor, at his toes, at the way he was standing like he was ready to drop down onto the floor and huddle in a corner at a moment's notice. He was so tall and he could be so curious and mischievous and flirty. But in this moment, he felt small and mousy and nothing like Jack. Jack, who even in his tiredness managed some semblance of regality and refinement. He was like a tired king. And he was meant to be his father's successor.

Rip, though... Rip felt like he was all of Jack's insecurities and none of his confidence.

"Why?"

And his voice was so small, like a mouse, like a thing that was waiting, shivering, for its final moments instead of facing them head on.

"Why would you..." He drew closer to Mik, looking down at him. Reached out. Touched his chest, where his heart was. Gently outlined the shape of a heart. Not a realistic one. Just the pretty kind with the two half loops and the pointy little end at the bottom.

"...why waste your time on me? I bet... your soulmate is somebody who your aunt will also instantly love. That won't abandon you. Somebody that... will take care of you like I cannot. And you'll know... Like I know, Mik. That it isn't me."

[Mikko Ashby]

"That's a fucked up thing to want, Rip." Mik told it like it was—and that was fucked up. Because asking him to deactivate Rip was essentially asking him to commit murder! Did Rip want that for Mik? Did he want Mik to... to feel the way he was feeling right now about Brayden Smith? He didn't. Mik knew he didn't but that didn't excuse him going around saying things like that! Things that hurt and scared people and—and just was fucked up.

It wasn't like Mik was mad or anything. Upset though. Definitely. Upset for himself, upset for Rip who kept giving in to his insecurities. It didn't help that everybody around him kept putting him down—Lieve, Aunt Shel, Keith. But Mik kept building him up and it was frustrating that Rip couldn't see all of the wonderful things Mik saw. The mischief, the wonder, the innocence, the dirty little sly smiles when they were alone and Rip's hand slid over his ass. The kind heart. The soft heart and soft smiles. The soul worth saving—by Brayden Smith's own admission, even though Rip killed him!

"You're doing a lot of talking for me, you know. Assuming I'm going to feel some type of way. Telling me you're not the right guy for me. Forcing this other soul mate on me because. I don't know. You don't think you deserve to be loved. But the problem is, you are loved, Rip. Star loves you. Queenie loves you." He smiled in a sudden sense of confidence, sureness and realization. "And I love you." It was so clear to him now, as plain as the sad expression on Rip's face. It was so obvious that he wondered how it took him so long to even say it! He sort of took it for granted, in a weird way.

He assumed the way he felt now was always the way he felt but that was patently not true. Love evolved out of interest and curiosity. Love blossomed over the small moments that added up to fill out that heart Rip drew over his actual heart.

"Do you... love me?" Mik's hands slid to either side of Rip's face, almost trapping his head in place—so he couldn't up and run or something. His thumbs slid across Rip's cheeks, gently stroking a line. "Do you go to sleep wishing I was beside you and wake up searching for me? Do you reach for me in the night? Do you smile when you think about me? Do you think about me all the time? Do you miss me when I'm not there and look forward to the second I walk in the door? Do you touch yourself... and wish it could be my hands on you?" Leaning in, he just barely kissed Rip—just a tantalizing peck on the lips.

"I bet you do. Because I do. Every single day since we met... every waking moment, I'm thinking about nobody else but you. You. You. You." Every 'you' followed a kiss, growing deeper and more passionate. "You. I love you. And you should love you, too, because I... don't think you need a soul mate to grow that soul. You need to love yourself for it to even want to grow."

[Ripper Nightshade]

Yes... he was realizing that it was a fucked up thing to want. It would make him feel better if somebody that cared about him put him out of his misery but... he hadn't thought much about how it might end up making Mik feel. Probably like the way Rip felt right now. He steadfastly kept his gaze turned from Mik, feeling wrong and bad and shameful.

Inside, he squirmed and not in a remotely good way. It was the kind of squirming feeling that lay prelude to running away--far, far away. Rip never knew what kind of person he was before he had really started to be a person. It turned out he was some kind of coward. As Mik continued to talk, Rip slid his hands up over his ears. He could still hear him even if he didn't want to. The scolding was too much.

His gaze darted up as Mik said that he loved him. Rip felt as if he should say something to that but he didn't. He didn't know what to say so he only looked back down. Then Mik was asking if he felt the same way, hands coming up to take Rip's face in his hands. Rip's own hands slid down, resting somewhere close to his own chest, like he had to protect whatever was in there.

Rip didn't know what love really was. How could he answer that question? But if love was that--what Mik listed... Rip closed his weary eyes. Because he couldn't deny those were things that he felt, as if Mik had read his mind. Or because... as Mik said, he felt those things, too. Was that love?

His eyes opened as he was given an affectionate peck on the lips. But then closed with every subsequent kiss. Moving in closer, he brought a knee up onto the bed, between Mik's legs. His arms wrapped around his shoulders and he followed one of Mik's kisses with one of his own before resting forehead against forehead.

"I don't know how," he whispered. "Show me."

[Mikko Ashby]

Nobody ever benefited from being lied to. If Mik had said that he thought it was a good thing for Rip to want to die by his hand, that would've made him fucked up, too. He thought it needed to be laid out plainly in order for Rip to realize how much harm he could do with careless words. If it hadn't been Mik, if it had been somebody messed up in the head, where would Rip be now?

But he understood that Rip was conflicted at the moment, delicate, vulnerable. His heart was battered and beaten and for so much of his life he was treated as nothing more than a toy. A thing. He was made by some creep who couldn't take no for an answer, and locked up like a prisoner. Maybe his brain wasn't... exactly the same as everyone else's—plenty of humans would've gotten fucked up too, if they had been put into Rip's shoes.

"Listen..." Mik hugged him tight, making room for him on the edge of the bed by scooting back a little and opening his legs slightly. "Having a soul mate isn't the one and only important thing in the world. It's not, Rip, it's just not. Happiness doesn't come from having somebody else complete you. That's just a part of it, like a really nice perk. They can... round you out, but they're not the one who gets to decide who you are. You get to decide who you are, Rip. Only you get to do that. And it's okay to not know what the hell's going on inside, that's... I mean that's puberty pretty much. Some people never figure it out. They're doing okay, they're still getting by, right?"

Rip said show—yes, he heard it right the first time—but some things had to be laid out first. Ground rules. Things that Mik needed to put out there, for the words to circulate around in Rip's funny wonderful strange alien brain, until such time one or two phrases stuck the landing.

[Ripper Nightshade]

Lowering his head to rest his chin on Mik's shoulder, he shook his head. Plainly, Rip was not very good at expressing himself, but to be fair... it was a hard thing to do when he wasn't sure what it was he was trying to express. How did he talk about things he didn't know how to articulate? How did he express feelings he didn't have words to?

So he remained as he was, between Mik's legs with his arms around him and his chin on his shoulder, eyes half closed, gaze on the bed beyond Mik's shoulder. Who was Rip without Keith? Floundering--he didn't know what to do with himself without orders. Explicit orders. He was so accustomed to being told what to do and how to do it that when left to his own devices, he wasn't sure what to do.

Too much freedom was just as scary as having somebody's hand constantly at his throat. Scarier, actually, since at least that hand at his throat was predictable. It had been there so long that it was almost... a comfort. He closed his eyes for a long moment, breathing Mik in. Mik loved him. But Rip didn't know how he felt. About anything. About Mik or himself or anybody anymore. Pressing his face into the hollow of Mik's throat, he allowed himself just a moment to soak him in before he pulled back and sighed.

He edged back, away from Mik and the bed. He moved around to the other end of the bed and rolled onto it, on his back, body laid out flat as he stared up at the ceiling.

"I think I can only do that on my own."

[Mikko Ashby]

There he went again, turning away—running away from the person offering to accept him with open arms, quirks and all. In a screwed up way, Mik sort of understood that. Rip was used to being treated a certain way. Now he was stuck with someone who was the complete opposite in every possible way, and that was a shock.

Mik sort of took being loved and treated nicely for granted. People loved him; his friends, his aunt Shel, the volunteers at the shelter. He didn't have a huge ego or anything—plenty of people disliked him too—but he had never gone through any real hardships in his life. Except losing his mom. Except that. That and finding out his dad never wanted to stick around. That too.

Sighing, he curled up on the bed beside Rip. He finger-walked over to Rip's arm and lightly tapped the side of it. "Hey." Rip was right in that this was something only he could work out because there were no easy answers. There was no right answer. All of those questions in his head, the confusion in his heart, he had to work it out. He had to find out what kind of person he wanted to be—if he wanted to run from Mik or run to Mik. If he wanted to find out who he was or if he wanted to just hide somewhere and turtle up and retreat from his problems.

"You don't have to do it alone, do you? Wouldn't it be nice to have a handsome guy... along for the ride?"

[Ripper Nightshade]

"Hm?"

He looked down at the hand on his arm, then back up at the ceiling, at the fan that was currently not spinning. Which was just as well because he felt like it would have been too much for his head. There were too many things already spinning around inside his head. He didn't need them spinning on the outside, too.

Slipping his hands up to his own chest, twiddling his fingers, he shook his head.

"Maybe... it would be nice. But I think I have to do it on my own."

If he didn't, he would never know, that was the problem. He was too easily influenced by everybody around him, including Mik. If he was really going to find himself--just himself, and not some person influenced and pushed and molded by other people--then he had to look for it on his own.

[Mikko Ashby]

"What does that mean? What're you going to do?" Mik slid closer, afraid that Rip was about to go down that deactivation path again. If it was just a matter of finding himself in peace and solitude, that was fine. Mik encouraged that; he was all for it.

But if Rip was going to do something terrible...

"You're not... promise you won't do anything drastic!"

[Ripper Nightshade]

"...drastic?"

Rip wasn't sure what Mik meant by that. He slowly turned his head so he could look at Mik, who was curled up close around him, like he thought maybe Rip was about to run into the wild and never look back. In the buff and everything.

"I just mean... maybe I have to be on my own for a while." He turned his gaze away, looking down at his own hands, toying with one of his necklaces that he had forgotten to take off when he got into the bath.

"How will I know me... if I'm just... mimicking everyone around me?"