On Your Doorstep

[onlycareaboutshipping]

On Your Doorstep

They ended up on your doorstep, quite literally. Bloody, possibly. Bruised, most definitely, though the wounds may be mental. You probably don't know them from Adam, yet you couldn't find it in you to turn them away - whether they wanted you to or not. So you opened up your home, just for a little while.

But it's getting to be more than a little while. Both of you are finding a comfort zone, because you didn't simply open up your home. Admit it or don't, but you've opened up your heart all the same.

Their's is slowly following, if its reluctant at all.

1. Comment with your character, preferences, & what role you'd like to play.

2. Tag others.

3. Thread

Comments

screeching

[takirider]

[What the hell is it with you guys showing up at his door at odd hours in various degrees of NOT WHOLE.]

[He was probably watching TV, or moreover staring at the set and not really paying attention, spacing out and thinking, when the knock startles him out of it and he stares owlishly at the door. What the fuck time was it and who the fuck was knocking on his door at it. Grunting, he checked the safety on his gun and slid it into the hem of his jeans, shrugging a jacket onto his shoulders before opening the door.]

[...Oh.]

...Pretty sure that's supposed to be attached, yanno.

[cyborghands]

[He doesn't respond immediately, standing there a moment longer. Is he staring at you or looking past you, the bug eyes make it a mystery.]

Do you have any tools I could borrow?

[It's terse, and a notch lower than his usual volume.]

[takirider]

[Typical Hongo. Doesn't mince words, gets straight to the point, shows up late with or without Starbucks. He sighs, opening the door and stepping aside.]

By the balcony. You gonna let me help you?

[cyborghands]

[He moves inside, dripping water everywhere (sorry Taki), and limps in the direction of the balcony.]

I may need some assistance when I reattach my arm.

[It's not exactly asking for help, but close enough.]

[takirider]

[A slight huff, and he nudges the door shut with his foot, immediately ducking under Hongo's good arm to help him across the apartment.]

If I got you a cellphone, would you use it to call me if you were in a position to need, and moreover accept, assistance reattaching your limbs?

[cyborghands]

[When Taki forcibly supports him, it's finally too much to keep it up; he shifts back to himself from his Rider form. There's blood on his face where his helmet kept the rain from washing it away, his expression is taut and his old scars are completely visible.]

I'm here now, aren't I?

[takirider]

[His grip shifts only enough to keep him upright when Hongo shifts back, and he looks away when he sees his friend's expression.]

...Fair enough. Here, why don't you sit and I'll bring you the toolbox.

[cyborghands]

. . .

[It's a long hesitation, but he finally complies and sits, setting his less attached arm across his lap.]

Thank you.

[takirider]

[He doesn't say anything to that, just sighs quietly and moves for the toolbox. He circles the small coffee table in front of the couch and sits, too, not close enough to be crowding but still there. The toolbox goes to the table, and he frowns at Hongo's arm.]

...tell me how to help.

[cyborghands]

[He doesn't respond immediately, looking down at the toolbox though it's clear his mind is elsewhere. It's probably just as clear that what he says isn't what he was thinking.]

I'll- need you to hold it in place until I can get it reattached.

[takirider]

[Taki purses his lips at that, but picks up the detached arm anyway.]

What happened, anyway?

[He phrases it gently, as he's looking between the arm and where it should go to attempt to line it up properly. How the hell do you know if you're putting a cyborg arm where it's supposed to go, how do you even reattach these things. This is not like replacing a tire on a bike.]

[cyborghands]

[He holds as still as he can- this wasn't an ideal environment for this, but this was just a patch-up job until he could get around to accessing proper equipment. He pulls the necessary tools out of the box and gets to work.]

[It's hard to tell if he's grimacing at Taki's question or in pain, though under the circumstances it could be both. It's a long moment before he responds, not once looking up from his arm.]

I failed.

[takirider]

[Hongo if you weren't already in shoddy shape he would punch you.]

...Okay, but if that's what I had meant by 'what happened', I would have asked 'so who'd you piss off and why'd they have a personal vendetta against your arm'. If we went by your logic of failure, every day I hit the snooze button until I was fifteen minutes late to meetings would be entirely more dramatic than they actually are.

[cyborghands]

[He doesn't react to any of that, still just focusing on his repairs with a kind of subdued fervor.]

I failed in my duty as a Kamen Rider. I failed to. . . protect two lives.

[takirider]

[That shuts him up for a minute.]

...One of these days you'll learn to stop taking things so hard. You can't save everyone, Hongo, you're one person.

[cyborghands]

Making excuses won't change anything.

[Still super intent on focusing on these repairs. Maybe because his hand is trembling a bit.]

[takirider]

[Excuse Taki while he makes this gay. That hand of yours, Hongo? He's covering it with his own to try and still it.]

And neither will giving yourself shit over it. You failed, did you? Two people died? So what are you gonna do differently next time? Don't wallow, Hongo, it's not like you. Shit happens.

[He might have squeezed Hongo's hand a little, in hopes that he feels it.]

If I know you, you did way more than anybody else would have been able to.