Jesus Adams Foster (wholeotherpath) wrote in somerealityrpg, @ 2020-03-01 12:38:00 |
|
|||
Feeling out of his depth was definitely the best way to describe how Jesus was feeling about his sudden displacement from his world and into Goodland where he was quite literally alone. It was like the first day of school all over again where you didn’t know anybody and it was all about trying to form as many connections as you could so that you didn’t feel completely alone.
Thankfully despite Francis seemingly having a lot of potential connections he felt the same way Jesus did and the two of them had definitely bonded over that.
Getting up to the roof had been thankfully easy so Jesus hadn’t needed to fight with anything or anyone to make his way up there and he’d happily settled himself on the edge with his legs hanging off and his body hunched forward as he just regarded the spread of New York city below and all around him.
Jesus inhaled and on the exhale threaded his hands into his hair and just sort of existed as he waited.
“Jesus, right?” Francis asked, stepping out onto the roof and tightening his jacket around him. It was new, Cooper had bought it for him earlier that day, as were the shoes and jeans, and everything felt just this side of wrong. Apparently they’d ‘wear in’ and eventually they’d be comfortable, and the practicality of the clothes was definitely not why they’d been chosen. He’d reluctantly asked Cooper for a suggestion as to how to pronounce the guy’s name, as he didn’t think anyone would name their kid after the Christian God’s kid or whatever but for all he knew they might have done.
He thought about holding his hand out but instead he pulled the bottle of whiskey from his back pocket and held it up in greeting instead.
“Francis.” It was accompanied by a sort of lop-sided smile.
Jesus sat up straight as Francis approached and cocked his head to one side as he gave the other guy an appraising look. “Nice threads,” he said with a quirky little half smile that pulled at just the one dimple.
He’d half expected a handshake but got a bottle of whiskey instead so all in all not a bad greeting.
“Nice to meet you in the flesh, Francis.”
Francis snorted, glancing down at his new clothes. “Oh, these old things? Yeah, just found them in the closet.” He wiggled the bottle and moved closer, feeling a little more relaxed when the guy smiled back at him, though he still looked wary.
“Yeah, nice to meet you too, properly, that is.”
He tipped his head and took another step, unscrewing the whiskey and taking a long sip, ignoring the burn as it worked its way down his throat. Honestly, this kind of stuff had been used more for injury cleaning than drinking but when he’d been eleven and his father was gone and he’d broken his leg… well, he’d been given something for the pain.
“Jacket doesn’t look too stupid, right?”
Jesus shook his head. “Nah, man. It looks good.” He shifted how he was sat so he was actually facing Francis instead of looking out over Goodland. It was polite after all.
He swung his long legs where they were as he sat on the edge of the building seemingly incapable of being able to sit still.
“You weren’t steered wrong.”
Francis crossed the rest of the space in a few long strides and then sat down, surprised but not put off that the guy was just perched on the edge of the building. It was the kind of shit he did, so he wasn’t about to tell him to get back. He settled, thankful that Jesus had picked a section that was away from the garden. That place seemed way too alive for his liking. Too much green.
“Here,” he held the bottle out. “Cooper said it’s ‘top shelf stuff’, whatever that means.”
Jesus reached out to take the bottle and tipped it to take a look at the label. It didn’t mean much to him but he could tell by some of the watermarks and information that it definitely wasn’t the cheap stuff.
“Just means it’s worth the money spent on it,” he shared with a rueful smirk as he tipped the bottle to his lips and took a healthy swig. It burned but in that pleasant way only alcohol could. Guaranteed oblivion. Less so these days for Jesus though given that he knew he needed to be careful.
Somedays he thought- Nah, Jesus shook that off and passed the bottle back to Francis.
“Ah.” Francis nodded, taking the bottle back and taking another mouthful. “Why can’t they just say that?” It made no sense, there were so many different ways of saying something relatively simple. The past was dumb.
There was a lot here that was dumb.
“I’m never gonna understand the past.”
It was at this precise point in the conversation where Jesus’ brows furrowed and he tipped his head in a way a puppy or dog might when it was confused or trying to understand what Francis meant by not understanding the past.
Francis took a swig of his drink and passed the bottle back over, meeting Jesus’ look with one of his own. “What?”
Jesus reached out and took a hold of the bottle. “You said something about not understanding the past, but didn’t really say anything else so now I’m wondering if you’re like from the future or something.”
He then tipped the bottle to his lips and took a healthy swallow.
“Oh,” Francis said, looking out over the city. There was a breeze blowing around them, it was cool. Since he had a good, warm jacket on it didn’t bite into him the way it would have done if this had been Ultracity. “Uh, yeah. Some version of it, anyway.”
He leaned to the side and pulled a leaf off a nearby plant. “The city looks nothing like this. World kinda ended. Robots took over.”
Jesus blinked. Blinked again. One more for good measure because why the hell not? Yep, another swig of whiskey, and then it was passed back to Francis. “That’s… I mean, I’ve watched a lot of movies about people travelling through time but it’s one thing to watch it and a totally different thing to know somebody who has actually done it.”
And of course the robots had taken over, terminator anyone?
“I mean, if this place isn’t real then I haven’t actually travelled through time. More… unwillingly displaced. I was in the middle of a fight. So you still haven’t met someone who has travelled through time ‘cause they want to.”
He tipped his head. “Movies? I’ve never seen one.”
Jesus couldn’t control his eyebrows, it had been proven time after time, and now was no exception. Up they went to greet his hairline. “Okay, we’re gonna be remedying that because no you cannot go through life not having seen a single movie.”
Simple or at least it was to him.
Francis snorted. “Not really any TVs in the apocalypse,” he deadpanned. “The people I stay with sometimes here, they’ve got video games and I’ve watched Jam- my friend play them with his boyfriend. But I haven’t tried yet.”
And he was all for things to distract him from the people that were being so kind but didn’t really want him around. The people who might have said the right thing but he- He just didn’t trust it. He was pricklier around the edges than James was and there wasn’t any connection, not really, not like he wanted there to be.
He took the bottle back. “I’m down to watch stuff though. You’ll have to show me how to work your TV.”
Jesus drew his legs up until they were folded in front of him, crossed at the ankle, long arms draped around them with his elbows resting on both knees. “That must be fun for you.” It was clear that he was being sarcastic because Jesus knew a thing or five about being an awkward third wheel.
He nodded. “And sure, I can do that. It’s a lot easier than you think it might be.”
Besides if Jesus could do it then anybody could.
“Oh,” Francis deadpanned, “it gets better. I’m sleeping on the floor in the boyfriend’s dad’s lounge in a sort of pillow fort thing. My friend’s there too. Sometimes the boyfriend is. So, I just make myself scarce.”
He nodded and passed the bottle back. “Wanna finish this first? ‘Cause I hear everything’s more fun when you’re drunk.”
Jesus’ face was nothing of not expressive and now was no exception. It literally painted a picture of how he felt about Francis’ current living situation. “Fuck,” he uttered with a shake of his head. “That’s super messed up.” And he had lived in some pretty weird situations but that? It definitely took the cake.
“Mmm, amen to that.” He shouldn’t be drinking while on his meds but given the circumstance and situation Jesus was of the mind that he could make an exception. “Things are definitely more fun when you’re drunk.”
“The boyfriend and all the people in the apartment are alternate reality version of my family, apparently. The guy - Clint - is another universe’s version of my dad.” Francis took a very long pull from the bottle. “The same guy that died in my arms years ago. But he’s not the guy that raised me. And he’s got his kids here. And I’m sleeping on the floor, sometimes.”
Wow. Francis felt the light-headedness then, hitting him like a wonky landing. This stuff was strong.
“Shit.”
Wow, okay.
If Jesus had thought his head was hurting before it sure as hell was now after that complicated response from Francis. It honestly sounded like a total nightmare and he was definitely glad he wasn’t the one having to live through it because definitely a massive big no thank you.
“Woah,” he drawled as he noticed the slight sway in Francis’ shoulders and he reached out to steady him with a hand on his arm. “I’m thinking we move this drinking session off the edge of the roof, huh?”
“Nah, I’m good for now,” Francis said honestly with a shrug, but he did shuffle backwards slightly. Falling to his death was an undignified as shit way to die. “Anyway, you were gonna tell me about your whole… family thing.” He waved his hand, shifted to the side slightly so he was facing Jesus. “Not completely sure it can be weirder than my current sitch, but I’m all ears.”
Jesus caught his lower lip between his teeth and worried at it before simply releasing it as he worked out how best to tell Francis about his family. “Okay so I’m a foster kid.” Cue blank expression from Francis. “Basically means my folks weren’t really the child raising type or in the case of my biological-mom she picked men, drugs and alcohol over her kids and my dad? Well, he was long gone by the time my mom gave birth.” He lifted his shoulders. “My sister and I would be left for hours on our own and given how young we were it’s not like we coulda done much for herself but I did for Marianna because I’m older so y’know it just made sense.”
He took a swig from the bottle. “Then CPS got involved, took us away, put us into the foster care system where we were moved around like a lot until Steph and Lena, my moms, decided to foster us. Not the easiest job in the world, not gonna lie, I was a total pain in the ass.” He passed the bottle back. “Eventually they adopted us and then the house started filling up with other foster kids who either went on to another home, back to the home they came from, or stayed on as part of the adopted family.”
He curled his legs up and flopped his arms atop of his knees.
“Then my biological-mom, she gets back in touch via my sister, starts getting her to give her money and stuff to feed her habit. Couldn’t talk to me ‘cause I cut her out completely. This goes on for a while until eventually she just vanishes. Again. Next time we see her she’s trying to go on the straight and narrow, sober up, get off the drugs that kinda thing. Hooks up with Steph’s ex-husband, has a kid, and is a really great mom to them. Oh yeah I forgot to mention that I also found my dad who couldn’t be in my mom’s life because when they were doing their thing he was way older and when he got my mom pregnant my biological-grandparents got him put on the sex offender registry.”
Jesus went back to worrying his lip again. “Thought it was all sorted and then he just left, again. Really should’ve expected that but I’m kinda dumb so…”
Francis listened as Jesus talked, eyes wide and jaw a little slack. “Okay, fuck,” he didn’t understand completely what Jesus was talking about but holy shit, that was a lot. When the bottle was waved in his direction, he shook his head. “Nope, I think you need that more than I do.”
He wasn’t massively tactile as an individual, so he just reached out with one foot and gently nudged Jesus’ thigh in a quiet show of support. He didn’t really know what else to say. It sucked, that all sounded like it really, really fucking sucked.
“Shit.”
Jesus snorted softly and rose the bottle in a mock toast to Francis. “Thanks, man.” He tipped it to his lips again and took another long very generous pull. “But hey shit happens.” Granted some happened to more than others but still Jesus was trying to do that thing where he didn’t let stuff drag him down but it was hard. Really hard.
He tipped his head and lifted his eyebrows. “So, movie?”
Francis snorted. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “shit happens.”
He got to his feet, moving away from the ledge and stretching his arms above his head as he did, feeling his back pop slightly as he did.
“But yeah, movie. Let’s go. Your place, mine’s filled with kids.”
Jesus swung his long legs around to place the soles of his converse against the flatness of the roof and rose to a considerable height which might have been hidden by the hunched posture he’d adopted while doing his best impression of some sort of weird deformed building monster.
“My place,” he agreed with a nod of his head. “No kids.”
Some benefits he supposed to being here alone.
“I’ll stick some popcorn in the microwave as well.”
“Oh, man, you’re too fucking tall,” Francis complained, waving his hand as he headed towards the roof-access door to the staircase. “But popcorn makes up for it. I’ve not had that before either.”
“Okay, that settles it,” Jesus said with a definite nod of his head. “Your education? Starts now.” And with that he pushed open the door which led to the roof and headed down the steps, determined to show Francis what he’d missed out on. Hopefully by doing so it would take his mind off the crap going on with him.