Warnings: un-beta'ed, foul language, awkward situations
Some days I love the other me. I want to spend each second with him, and wish that each moment could last forever. I would look into his eyes and see so much good in them, and seeing those eyes smile (even if his mouth doesn't) makes the world seem more right.
And then there are days like today.
The other me can get moody sometimes. Moody and quiet and brooding. He would close the link from his side, yet whenever I try to block my own side of the link, he would quietly (and rudely!) pull it open again. It's like I can't use his shampoo so he hides it, but when I want to keep my shampoo for myself and hide mine, he ferrets it out and uses it! I would try to pull at his side of the link as well, try to talk to him, but it's impossible. I've had less than two years of experience tinkering with just my own mental abilities. He's had three thousand years of experience with his own.
Pout.
So now I don't bother, but I'm still sulking. It's predictable by now what will happen next. Once he gets back to normal (which could take weeks!), he'd act as though nothing's happened. Then, if I try to push him even more, he would sulk again and retreat into the Puzzle, only coming back out when he's sensed that I've given up on the subject.
It sucks! Here I am, in front of the door leading to the toilet, and I'm trying to close my side of the link – but he won't let me! I'm telling him very clearly and loudly that I have to have some privacy right now. He doesn't care! I don't know why he would want my side of the link open at a time like this!
"It's a critical moment, other me!" I yell through the link. Still, he is relentless. Now it's like trying to turn off the light so I could sleep, only to have someone or something turn it on again. Except in this case, it's worse.
"I need to go, okay!? I need to take a crap!"
There is silence at the other side. Yet when I try to close the link once more, he opens it again. "Well, fine!" I scream, throwing the door open. To hell with consideration and privacy and every other thing that the other me doesn't seem to care about! If he wants to still be in touch with me even in the midst of mother nature's call, then it's his hell and torment, not mine!
Though at times like this, it is more than a little hard to go.
"Why do you do this?" I inquire angrily. Okay, so my pants are down. I am announcing my every action in my head. I am about to go! I am sitting on the toilet. …Okay, I'm going to go now.
The other me is still there, his presence as though he is right beside me, over my shoulder. I know he can't smell or anything, but being watched and felt through something like this…! It's happened before, yeah, but it's one of those things I…can't get used to.
I'm blushing over the toilet. What the hell is wrong with him? I hate him, I hate him…
"Partner." The other me coos, as though I'm in the midst of crying and needing of comfort. Which I probably am.
"What are you doing!? Go away!" I cover my face with my hands.
Still, his voice is there. He sounds melancholy, but determined. "You don't mean those words."
"I will if you don't close the link right now!" Embarrassment, anger and frustration. I try to hurry up. I mean, don't get me wrong. I really do love the other me. But I'm on the toilet with my pants down and my ass brown, and he's talking to me like one of us just woke up from a nightmare and needs a hug.
I cry out as I start to clean myself up. I see him now, in spirit form, his arms at his sides and his face unreadable. My face gets hotter as I hurry up. "There's no need to be upset." He says, his tone persuasive. "Don't you see why I do this?"
I yell both aloud and in my mind. "No!" I slam the door as I exit. He's still with me, but I don't want to look at him right now.
He stands in front of me, staring at me as though he's torn. I turn away. Screw your mood-swings and weird ideals! How is it you can just watch someone take a crap!?
He answered. "I do this to show you." Oh yes. Thank you for being so simple and un-vague as you are. I can always understand you perfectly. The other me showed his teeth, his eyes becoming darker and more struggled. "I want you to always be open!" He continues. "I need that!"
I scratch my head at his exclamations. Okay, okay. So he did Something Weird again, but by the sound of it, he's going to talk about Something Important To Him, and maybe by listening to him I'll find out why he's occasionally so eccentric. Besides, my body is his body too. Maybe he just wants to relish in truly each living experience.
"What do you mean?" I sigh heavily. I had meant to sound more considerate and open, but I was still mad. Can I be blamed? I mean, if he wanted to know for himself what taking a crap felt like, then he could have just taken over instead of…well, you know, watching me.
He looked down, his eyes annoyed. It took him a while to answer. "I always hate it when you close the link. I tolerate it sometimes, but I hate it." He ground out the words, emphasizing them. "I want to spend each moment in you."
I scowl at that. "Even in the bathroom!?" I yell out incredulously. He scowls as well. He nods once sharply, but then quickly shakes his head vigorously.
"You're not understanding me!" He growled, rubbing his face. "Listen to what I'm trying to tell you!"
I am trying to listen, but at the same time, I'm angry and annoyed. Going to the toilet is a personal – a very personal act. It's that certain something that no one wants anyone else to touch.
He sighs, exasperated. Well, I am too – tenfold! And you would be too, if you were in my PJ's, on my toilet, while someone was watching you over it!
The other me whipped his head up and glared at me, barking out. "If you were the one watching, I wouldn't give a shit! Actually, screw that pun – I would literally give a shit, because I wouldn't care at all if it were you!" Then, he bit the words out. "You don't understand, and you never will. Just go ahead and do your own thing, and I'll be in the Puzzle watching you regardless of what you say or think. You can't stop me."
I was left alone in my room, my eyes wide and my mouth slack. Then I glared at the space where he had vanished. Well, screw you too! You know what, you can watch and listen to me all you want. I hate you! I hate you! I hope you do take a crap so that I can whisper in your ear about all the different shapes that come out of you, you hear? And so what if you just block me out? That'll just prove you wrong about everything you just said!
I huff and I puff and instead of blowing anything down, I hug one of my toys tightly. I look in the mirror, and I'm so disappointed in the absolute un-threatening-ness I see there. My shoulders slump. Of course the other me wouldn't give a crap about anything that I did. I'm too weak next to him, and he could bend my mind to his will in an instant. What can I do that can be better than that?
I'm weak. I'm a pushover. Probably the other me senses that.
Or maybe it was whatever he was trying to say. But between its vagueness, my own angry feelings, and everything else, whatever he was trying to say was impossible to decipher.
Now, usually when I cry or when my eyes begin getting wet, the other me will send feelings of comfort, of security, of love through the link. He'd tell me, usually without words, that whatever the problem is will be fixed and he'd make sure of it. He'd be kind, and open, and sweet.
Then there are days like today, when I can feel him and he's there, but not with me. When I feel like the crap that comes out of my ass and his mouth, but I don't want to cry.
And he hears me.
A/N: I had fun writing this. Please review.
