Okay. She'll just be surprised, then, about whatever flower it is that she's going to cough up for Megamind. She is not about to pry into that level of childhood trauma just to satisfy her own curiosity and trepidation. No, thank you. Questions without answers? She will figure out how to be okay with that. She'll be fine.
The thought occurs that now she really can't let him find out, not if she's somehow magically generating something from his extinct homeworld. She has to get to the blossom stage, she has to. It's going to suck, but that's okay! Lots of people do this. It happens all the time. She'll be fine, she'll get there. Stay the course.
It's a relief to make that decision, honestly. Definitely not because now she has a reason to procrastinate making any other kind of decision. Ha! Ha.
Her petals almost double in length literally overnight, and that waxy layer on them starts catching on the back of her tongue and making her gag. That's...probably not great. One of the really annoying things about Hanahaki flowers is that they do appear to be some form of magical; they don't come out covered in slime or anything like that. Spit from being in her mouth, sure. But that's all. They're easy enough to rinse off, which is nice if the afflicted intends to keep them or use them in some kind of project, but it does make spitting them out slightly more difficult.
But that's what expectorant is for. And at least they aren't buds yet. At least Megamind is back to normal.
Somewhat normal, anyway—he's talking to her more or less freely again, which is stunning considering the bombshell he dropped and the potential for awkwardness. He doesn't light up again much, though.
He seems really down, actually, a couple kidnappings after that, although he does his best to put a happy face on it for the crowds and cameras. He leaps and jumps and evades Metro Man with his usual alacrity, but his heart's not in it, Roxanne can tell. She's seen him in slumps before, but she's never seen him crash this hard, this quickly. Especially not after bounding away yelling with excitement the way he had only a few weeks ago.
This time of year, Minion said.
Roxanne has never been good at resisting the urge to ask questions, and now that Megamind has said be direct, she barely resists at all.
"Wait," she says, one day in mid-December. Megamind pauses and looks back toward her, unsmiling. All of his usual fire is extinguished now. He looks completely exhausted in a way he doesn't usually, even when he's upset about something or hasn't slept. "Um. This is—maybe going to sound weird, but—you did say to just ask, so—I'm asking. ...Are you okay?"
Megamind blinks once.
"What?" he says, after a long pause.
She swallows. "I just…you seem…off, again. Tired, maybe, I don't know, but—we're still okay? Are you okay?"
He looks at her for another long moment, and then he slumps. "We're fine. I haven't been sleeping," he says. And then, when Roxanne tips her head and sends him a questioning expression, "December is…always difficult. For me."
Ah. She hadn't ever noticed before.
But then, she wasn't in love with him before. "I'm sorry," she says. "Is it seasonal? Or—"
"It was my birthday yesterday." His blank expression never changes. "Sort of difficult to associate that with anything except mass extinction."
Aaaaand that explains why Minion said to ask about it in the summer. Whoops.
The silence that follows this while Roxanne tries to think of words is thick and heavy despite the yapping brainbots that flit past overhead. Megamind stands with his hands at his sides, unmoving, unsmiling.
"Oh. I'm sorry," she finally says again, feeling that this is horribly inadequate. "Well…I won't wish you a happy birthday, then."
His twitch of a smile doesn't reach his eyes. "That would be best."
She bites her lips together for a moment, and Megamind starts to turn away again.
"Would it," Roxanne blurts, calling him back with far, far too much hope in her voice, "would it be okay if I—if I said I wish—you could have a happy birthday?"
He blinks again and drops his shoulders at that, and his expression cracks finally, lips parting. His eyes go wide, the corners of his mouth pull down, his eyebrows tweak upwards, and for a moment, just a moment, he looks almost as if he's trying not to cry. But the moment passes so quickly Roxanne can't be sure she really saw it, and then Megamind is just sending her a small, sad smile. His voice when he speaks is low but steady.
"That may be the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me," he says. "Thank you."
Uncertain, stricken, she nods. "We don't have to do this," she says, when he starts to move. She should just let him follow his plan, should stop making him stop, but—god—she can't stand this. He's so upset. He's hiding it surprisingly well, but Roxanne knows him and he is terribly upset and probably grieving and she can't stand it. She can't do anything to help, can't even call him after the plot wraps up to check on him. The only times they talk are these, like this, with something else looming over them. Usually she doesn't mind so much, but now…
"We could just hang out today. Play a game or something. Do lunch, again? Or—dinner? I guess it's kind of late for lunch. Or we could just talk! I just," she tries for a smile, but it's shaky, too hopeful, "I just think—Megamind, you aren't feeling it today. I can tell. It's okay if we take a rain check on the plot and hang out instead." She lifts her eyebrows. "I won't tell anyone."
Megamind is quiet for a long time, just looking at her.
"I don't think that's wise," he finally says, quiet. "Do you?"
Roxanne just stares at him, trying to think of how to respond to that and failing utterly and feeling like a wilting flower at being turned down. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.
After a moment, Megamind swallows and turns away. "I'm tired," he says. "I'll have Minion take you home."
He trusts her. Way, way more than he thought he did, and the realization throws Megamind for a total loop. He knew already, of course, but he had not realized how much he trusted her until she asked if he was tired, because all he wanted in that moment, all he wanted, was to walk to Roxanne and fall on his knees and put his face in her lap and just fucking let go and cry. The holiday season is hitting him much, much worse than usual this year, and Megamind is under no illusions about why. It's all the usual stuff—memories, survivor's guilt, homesickness—plus the pain and stress of his advancing Hanahaki and everything else he knows he wants so badly and can't have.
The brainbots bowg quietly as a small flight of his darters follows him to his bedroom. They help him undress, but Megamind gets into his pajamas by himself, moving slowly, aching in every limb and his heart.
"Go over," Minion urges him, later that evening, after he's slept a little. He woke up coughing, of course, his body convulsing so hard it was incredible he didn't crack a rib. "Go visit."
Apparently Megamind is coughing up buds now. That's great. Just fantastic.
"I can't go over," he says, scathing. He is feeling a little better, Hanahaki attack notwithstanding. He always feels a little better after an attack anyway, just from knowing he won't have another one for at least another hour or so. But he had to turn down Roxanne's offer of socializing because if he relaxed even for a moment and she was nearby and being so unnecessarily kind to him, he would not be able to resist breaking down, and he isn't out of the woods on that one yet. He's starting to think he never will be. "I can't go over. She'll be at home right now."
"That's the point!" Minion throws up his hands. "She offered dinner, Sir. That doesn't seem significant to you?"
His lip curls. "She offered dinner out of pity, Minion. She could tell I'm depressed and so she—"
"Oh for heaven's sake," Minion says, exasperated, and walks away.
The destruction of his homeworld, Roxanne thinks again. The destruction of—holy smokes. Yeah, a birthday wouldn't be happy at all, with that kind of memory attached to it. When was the actual event? Shortly thereafter, she has to imagine. Today? Tomorrow?
Lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, Roxanne chews her lip. She desperately wishes, not for the first time, that she could get in touch with him if she wanted. Check on him, reach out, offer a shoulder or an ear or something. But it's not like he has a phone number.
Hopefully he at least knows she's here for him if he needs her.
