[Josh knows that look. He's seen it on his own face, watery eyes staring back at him in the mirror; he's felt the same twist and pull in his own chest, that very same inability to speak.
He hates it.
He hates seeing Oboro wear it even more.
His arms are out as soon as the kid leans toward him, and the embrace that follows is strong, firm, and warm, both sympathetic and reassuring. It's then that his memory flashes, lights up like a summer storm and lands him back in the living room of his childhood home, back in his mother's arms, the scene exactly like this one right here, right now. Except he was younger than Oboro is now, and he hadn't yet learned the fine art of keeping himself together, and he hadn't understood what death even meant aside from that his sister wouldn't be around anymore.]
Yeah.
[Josh tilts his head to lean his cheek against Oboro's hair and does the same: breathes until the pang in his chest has dulled, until his eyes don't feel quite so wet.]
[The gentle reassurances, the tight grip, the place to nestle his head - Oboro clung to it all with aching shoulders. He was selfish, languishing in such a gesture. But, despite the guilt, it helped.
Maybe Oboro had just wanted the chance to cry. Maybe he'd just needed to feel like it was okay, to have a strong embrace keeping him upright in case his knees buckled. It was strange - the one moment he was safe to sob was also the moment it was easiest to calm himself down.
As time passed and the throbbing behind his eyes dulled, Oboro pulled away with a deep breath. His second attempt at a smile was more successful than the first.]
I'm happy- [He knew he didn't look it, but even though his smile was bittersweet, he found it easy to wear.] -that you came. [That he met you.]
[It's almost a surprise to Josh, how this scene unfolds. Despite the familiarity, despite him doing almost exactly the same thing as his mother held him in their old living room, he's still taken aback by the tears.
Not in a bad way, though. It's almost a relief. He'd probably have walked away from this encounter thinking, otherwise, that Oboro didn't trust him anymore, that he thought Josh was possibly a creep, that he'd take this as his sign to build a wall between them just to protect himself.
So Josh is happy, too, even if he feels incredibly sad.]
[When Oboro raised a hand to wipe at his irritated eye, he felt something wet. He looked down at Josh's shirt, and even though he knew, it was still strange to see the dark splotches he'd left behind.
He couldn't quite put together how he felt-] Mmhm. [Oboro nodded, because through the haze of regret and guilt and companionship and warmth, he felt lighter.
Oboro had never wanted to rely on anyone. The walls he'd built up were there to protect others, not himself. He wasn't ready to tear them down, but he knew - through hiding in his office and being held in his arms - that Josh would be there for him.
[If Oboro noticed anything different about Josh's eyes, he didn't show it. He breathed a deep, comfortable sigh when Josh squeezed his shoulders, and watched the man stand. From here, he couldn't quite make out the little wet spots.
Maybe they'd started to dry.]
Yes. [Oboro nodded. Josh was a busy man, and there was nothing left to say - they'd understood each other.] I am too. [Glad, and appreciative. He didn't want to over saturate Josh with gratitude, though, so he swallowed his thanks.]
Have a good evening. [Taking the doorknob into his hand, Oboro moved just a few small steps back into his hotel room. He wanted to see Josh leave before he shut the door.]
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He hates it.
He hates seeing Oboro wear it even more.
His arms are out as soon as the kid leans toward him, and the embrace that follows is strong, firm, and warm, both sympathetic and reassuring. It's then that his memory flashes, lights up like a summer storm and lands him back in the living room of his childhood home, back in his mother's arms, the scene exactly like this one right here, right now. Except he was younger than Oboro is now, and he hadn't yet learned the fine art of keeping himself together, and he hadn't understood what death even meant aside from that his sister wouldn't be around anymore.]
Yeah.
[Josh tilts his head to lean his cheek against Oboro's hair and does the same: breathes until the pang in his chest has dulled, until his eyes don't feel quite so wet.]
...yeah.
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Maybe Oboro had just wanted the chance to cry. Maybe he'd just needed to feel like it was okay, to have a strong embrace keeping him upright in case his knees buckled. It was strange - the one moment he was safe to sob was also the moment it was easiest to calm himself down.
As time passed and the throbbing behind his eyes dulled, Oboro pulled away with a deep breath. His second attempt at a smile was more successful than the first.]
I'm happy- [He knew he didn't look it, but even though his smile was bittersweet, he found it easy to wear.] -that you came. [That he met you.]
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Not in a bad way, though. It's almost a relief. He'd probably have walked away from this encounter thinking, otherwise, that Oboro didn't trust him anymore, that he thought Josh was possibly a creep, that he'd take this as his sign to build a wall between them just to protect himself.
So Josh is happy, too, even if he feels incredibly sad.]
Me too. You okay?
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He couldn't quite put together how he felt-] Mmhm. [Oboro nodded, because through the haze of regret and guilt and companionship and warmth, he felt lighter.
Oboro had never wanted to rely on anyone. The walls he'd built up were there to protect others, not himself. He wasn't ready to tear them down, but he knew - through hiding in his office and being held in his arms - that Josh would be there for him.
It made him feel safe.]
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[He pulls away himself, finally, and gives Oboro's shoulders one final squeeze before the contact is fully broken.
Josh will ignore the wet spots on his shirt if Oboro ignores the fact that Josh's eyes are a little redder than they were when he showed up.
He stands.]
I need to head back to the office, but — I'm, uh... glad we had this talk.
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Maybe they'd started to dry.]
Yes. [Oboro nodded. Josh was a busy man, and there was nothing left to say - they'd understood each other.] I am too. [Glad, and appreciative. He didn't want to over saturate Josh with gratitude, though, so he swallowed his thanks.]
Have a good evening. [Taking the doorknob into his hand, Oboro moved just a few small steps back into his hotel room. He wanted to see Josh leave before he shut the door.]
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[Josh offers one last small smile before turning on his heel and heading back the way he came, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he goes.]