[ in sharp contrast to the emphasis on all other holidays requiring togetherness with his friends and family, rin has never done much to celebrate his birthday. in australia, only his host parents had known its date, and he'd brushed off their attempts to celebrate it. they'd been hurt by it, he knew, but he'd been so absorbed in his own anger that it had been simple collateral damage.
he's not even sure how heine figured out when his birthday was. makoto, maybe. or haru, whose laconic nature - surprisingly - doesn't extend to forgetting birthdays. no, it was probably gou, who's hellbent on getting him out of the weird funk he's been in after -- well, it's not worth thinking about. heine's here now, without the pretense of a sparring session, and that says a great deal.
he grins, a beat too late. but it's genuine all the same, if tinged with surprise.
being remembered. knowing that they're friends, no matter the shit they've put each other through. it means a lot, even if rin knows heine won't appreciate him externalizing that. ]
I was bored, but now I'm annoyed. Since I don't see a gift on you.
[ he isn't sure why this matters. he isn't sure at all why he searches for reasons in his actions; he's never really and honestly put stock in these things before.
things just...happened, a sort of motor-motion tandem, working gears and detachment like clockwork. it worked well enough. besides, place where he was from barely relied on emotion, compassion. humanity.
steel, and blood and smoke. always.
and yet,
he learned to read rin in the language of opposites and heine finds he is unsure why he bothers. the kid is annoying, loud, and shoves his stupid face into heine's business way too often. by all accounts, from the shit he's pulled, heine should have killed him twice by now. or the dog should have.
and yet,
maybe putting each other through different hells was an affirmation to heine. bullets and bruises and injury was a familiar language, and rin was catching on quick with sportsman-like speed. it would be a shame if that had something to do with it (you've been hanging around heine too long), but there was no denying what world this was.
he's dropped himself into the chair before folding a leg underneath himself (shoes on, of course), and props his jaw up onto a bony hand. the noise he makes is disgruntled at best, something akin to indignation. ] Ugh - I was supposed to get you a gift?
[ what the fuck don't be this way this concept is barely known to him.
the date was offhandedly mentioned by rin's sister. or was it one of the other two? in the long run, it doesn't matter. and when rin had been barely active all day today, albino freak here decided to take a walk and see what was what. ] - What're you gonna do, grandpa? Shake your fist at me?
he's already snapped his laptop shut and slid its bulk away from him; now he sits with his arms crossed over his chest, lounging back against the wall.
because birthdays are the sort of days that you spend on self-reflection, in rin's book. looking down the ladder of the past year to see how far he's climbed.
and heine has taught him a lot about survival, being in this city has taught him a lot about himself, but rin's treading water. there's no past and no future in this place, where his own world has fallen to death and destruction. the only certainty in the future is waking up in this bed, seeing his friends, feeling the restlessness rise and choke him and choke him.
so, yes. the distraction is welcome.
he tosses a pillow at heine's face, overhand. if not intercepted, it will hit him squarely in the face. ]
I just turned 18. Aren't you, what, 30? And you act like you're 80. Should you be talking shit?
[ a generous estimate, just to see if it'll make heine bristle. so few things actually piss heine off, surprisingly - he dons the whole i'm-always-angry act most of the time, but it's apathy more than anything else.
plus, getting a rise out of him is fun. he can be rin's entertainment, since he didn't bring a gift along with him. ]
he'd use it to smother you w it. what a way to go, rin.
[ the pillow is caught in the lazy periphery of half-shut eyes before he snatches it from the air.
what, you thought it was going to be that easy? thanks for the pillow, by the way. he bites down a yawn, slings the thing behind his head and settles just a little more comfortably into the seat. ] I think I'm more like 20-something?
The question never came up during my family reunions. [ a shrug, and he tips a shit-eating smirk. this isn't getting to him at all, so if rin thinks to get a rise out of him, he best do better.
besides, these spars have become par for the course.
see, the great advantage (haha) of coming from the bowels of a world like heine's is that death and destruction is common place and when one wants to look at the accomplishments of the year,you would count the times you were shot and put 'only' in front of it. ] And since I'm your crippled elder, I get to talk as much shit as I want.
heine.... ur never gonna grow out of that outdated style at this rate
[ he makes a disgusted look at heine's show of athleticism - what an asshole - but he forgets about it as soon as heine's response registers.
his gaze narrows, expression gaining focus. ]
—you think?
[ sometimes he can't fathom the extent of the differences between them — to be empty of basic knowledge of one's self is such an alien concept. he stops fidgeting, leaning forward over his crossed legs. ]
So - does that mean you don't know when your birthday is?
[ rin has that look on his face that means he's plotting something. furrowed brows, downturned mouth. exaggerated focus.
[ while on the best of days heine looks like he wouldn't be able to life a glass of water, he's one mean killing machine with lighting quick reflexes!! don't be jealous!
when rin pipes up, it would be normal to be relieved at your supposed conversation partner actively looking engaged in your surprise visit. however, it is long known that heine and normal mix about as well as oil and water.
however, the scrunched look rin's features take all point to that this red haired, sharp-toothed bastard is Plotting Something, and it leaves an apprehensive knot tightening in heine's stomach. he doesn't hide it, either, not in the scowl pulling at his mouth, red eyes narrowed to slits. ] ...No?
Who the fuck cares? [ wait then why was he here...
...] It's your birthday today, so why are you talking to me about mine? [ there, heine the suave albino, saved it. maybe. who the fuck knows, but probably not.
were he actually as cruel as he made himself out to be, he would have brought up the fact that the last time rin had a brilliant idea, it nearly got the both of them killed. or more specifically, it nearly got rin killed, and heine nearly blew his own head off. in retrospect, maybe it would be been a good idea to put himself out of this misery for a little while.
but, he's had enough past drama to dwell on. he's let it go the cold never bothered him anyway ] So are we gonna celebrate?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wear the jasmine outfit first
he's not even sure how heine figured out when his birthday was. makoto, maybe. or haru, whose laconic nature - surprisingly - doesn't extend to forgetting birthdays. no, it was probably gou, who's hellbent on getting him out of the weird funk he's been in after -- well, it's not worth thinking about. heine's here now, without the pretense of a sparring session, and that says a great deal.
he grins, a beat too late. but it's genuine all the same, if tinged with surprise.
being remembered. knowing that they're friends, no matter the shit they've put each other through. it means a lot, even if rin knows heine won't appreciate him externalizing that. ]
I was bored, but now I'm annoyed. Since I don't see a gift on you.
[ his grin sharpens, belying all of the above. ]
it won't fit his willowy figure right
things just...happened, a sort of motor-motion tandem, working gears and detachment like clockwork. it worked well enough. besides, place where he was from barely relied on emotion, compassion. humanity.
steel, and blood and smoke. always.
and yet,
he learned to read rin in the language of opposites and heine finds he is unsure why he bothers. the kid is annoying, loud, and shoves his stupid face into heine's business way too often. by all accounts, from the shit he's pulled, heine should have killed him twice by now. or the dog should have.
and yet,
maybe putting each other through different hells was an affirmation to heine. bullets and bruises and injury was a familiar language, and rin was catching on quick with sportsman-like speed. it would be a shame if that had something to do with it (you've been hanging around heine too long), but there was no denying what world this was.
he's dropped himself into the chair before folding a leg underneath himself (shoes on, of course), and props his jaw up onto a bony hand. the noise he makes is disgruntled at best, something akin to indignation. ] Ugh - I was supposed to get you a gift?
[ what the fuck don't be this way this concept is barely known to him.
the date was offhandedly mentioned by rin's sister. or was it one of the other two? in the long run, it doesn't matter. and when rin had been barely active all day today, albino freak here decided to take a walk and see what was what. ] - What're you gonna do, grandpa? Shake your fist at me?
we can find a padded bra for him
he's already snapped his laptop shut and slid its bulk away from him; now he sits with his arms crossed over his chest, lounging back against the wall.
because birthdays are the sort of days that you spend on self-reflection, in rin's book. looking down the ladder of the past year to see how far he's climbed.
and heine has taught him a lot about survival, being in this city has taught him a lot about himself, but rin's treading water. there's no past and no future in this place, where his own world has fallen to death and destruction. the only certainty in the future is waking up in this bed, seeing his friends, feeling the restlessness rise and choke him and choke him.
so, yes. the distraction is welcome.
he tosses a pillow at heine's face, overhand. if not intercepted, it will hit him squarely in the face. ]
I just turned 18. Aren't you, what, 30? And you act like you're 80. Should you be talking shit?
[ a generous estimate, just to see if it'll make heine bristle. so few things actually piss heine off, surprisingly - he dons the whole i'm-always-angry act most of the time, but it's apathy more than anything else.
plus, getting a rise out of him is fun. he can be rin's entertainment, since he didn't bring a gift along with him. ]
he'd use it to smother you w it. what a way to go, rin.
what, you thought it was going to be that easy? thanks for the pillow, by the way. he bites down a yawn, slings the thing behind his head and settles just a little more comfortably into the seat. ] I think I'm more like 20-something?
The question never came up during my family reunions. [ a shrug, and he tips a shit-eating smirk. this isn't getting to him at all, so if rin thinks to get a rise out of him, he best do better.
besides, these spars have become par for the course.
see, the great advantage (haha) of coming from the bowels of a world like heine's is that death and destruction is common place and when one wants to look at the accomplishments of the year,you would count the times you were shot and put 'only' in front of it. ] And since I'm your crippled elder, I get to talk as much shit as I want.
heine.... ur never gonna grow out of that outdated style at this rate
his gaze narrows, expression gaining focus. ]
—you think?
[ sometimes he can't fathom the extent of the differences between them — to be empty of basic knowledge of one's self is such an alien concept. he stops fidgeting, leaning forward over his crossed legs. ]
So - does that mean you don't know when your birthday is?
[ rin has that look on his face that means he's plotting something. furrowed brows, downturned mouth. exaggerated focus.
be afraid, heine. be very, very afraid. ]
dont tell me how to live my life
when rin pipes up, it would be normal to be relieved at your supposed conversation partner actively looking engaged in your surprise visit. however, it is long known that heine and normal mix about as well as oil and water.
however, the scrunched look rin's features take all point to that this red haired, sharp-toothed bastard is Plotting Something, and it leaves an apprehensive knot tightening in heine's stomach. he doesn't hide it, either, not in the scowl pulling at his mouth, red eyes narrowed to slits. ] ...No?
Who the fuck cares? [ wait then why was he here...
...] It's your birthday today, so why are you talking to me about mine? [ there, heine the suave albino, saved it. maybe. who the fuck knows, but probably not.
were he actually as cruel as he made himself out to be, he would have brought up the fact that the last time rin had a brilliant idea, it nearly got the both of them killed. or more specifically, it nearly got rin killed, and heine nearly blew his own head off. in retrospect, maybe it would be been a good idea to put himself out of this misery for a little while.
but, he's had enough past drama to dwell on. he's let it go
the cold never bothered him anyway] So are we gonna celebrate?That's the word, isn't it?