datadiving | CALL ME OUT/OPEN RP

[If Kukui expects the rattling cackle of Guzma's usual bravado, he will be sorely disappointed. There's no laughter, no intimidation tactics, no high-energy. There isn't even rage at this point. Guzma doesn't know what to do but follow like a man to the gallows. He never felt this strained and trapped since...since he was trapped in that other world. That Ultra Space. This isn't how it was supposed to go, it's not what he wants to do. Guzma may say he'd love to knock Kukui one good, but this time - right here and now, when it's just them - it's all wrong.

But he can't say no. If he backs down, Kukui wins again. He's too proud to let that happen, too damn pigheaded. Guzma wants to win. Just once, just one time. But he doesn't want to fight like this either!! So what now?? What the hell does he do?! He can't even play this like a pokemon battle - all of his team were still hurting after fighting the little squirt on the beach, they needed to rest still.

Guzma takes off his sunglasses, folding them and putting them in his back pocket. Well, time to get this over with. Fake it until you make it, I guess.]

You picked a wrong day to mess with me, Kukui. ...Aint gonna let you back out this time.

[He exhales fingers twitching at his sides until they curl into fists. He doesn't want to move, but his body's too used to this - one arm lifts, reels back, and swings. Miss, dodge, move away, block it... Hit him first, anything.]

I've run away enough, yeah? Guess I deserve that.

[ The smile is small, and sad. He's always been quick to show emotions that weren't anger, after all. Always smiling, always brushing himself off and bouncing back and getting up again. Looking higher, further, always upwards.

(You never looked back. Does he blame himself? Maybe he does. Maybe he always has.

Maybe there isn't a 'maybe'.)

He doesn't know what he's expecting, not even from himself, but he's always taken things head on. Normally he might dodge, or just block, or laugh...if he'd ever really fought Guzma before.

He just lets that hit him, though, and stays silent. None of this feels right, and he doesn't really want to retaliate, either. ]

[His fist connects and Guzma immediately feels sick to his stomach when he hears the sound - like a mild crack - and he quietly hopes he didn't actually break anything. He wouldn't be able to handle seeing Kukui's blood on his knuckles. He doesn't have it in him to go any further, and Guzma steps back, dizzy and shaking. He doesn't even hit him back. He doesn't even hit him back!

WHY?!]

Guzma...wh-what is wrong with you?

[Hoarse, strained, like it took everything he had to even voice that one sentence. His hands tangle into his hair pulling roughly, probably splitting a number of strands from his skull. He can't do this. He can't. Guzma feels nauseous, the feeling of hitting Kukui still lingering on his skin like a disease. It's dirty, it's wrong, it's...it's bad. He feels bad, and he can't even get satisfaction from his own comeuppance.]

What is wrong with you?! [Hit me back, you damn idiot. Hit me back!!]

[ Maybe if this was more lighthearted, he'd goad him on, banter with him like he usually does. (Try to make it easy on him, at least.)

But he can't seem to muster up the will to do that. Guzma is so vulnerable; he can't possibly hit him now. He doesn't want to hurt him more than he's already been hurt.

Why did he ask this of him? He's not sure, any more.

His hands go up, sure enough, but it's not to hit him; it's to pull Guzma's hands away from his hair, gripping his wrists to stop him yanking at it. ]

Hey.

There's nothing wrong with you, yeah?

[ He can't look Guzma in the face right now. He's almost sure he'll cry, and he's not sure if Guzma would be able to handle it, to be honest. ]

Edited 2017-01-12 04:06 (UTC)

[If this were more lighthearted, Guzma probably would put his all into it - he's odd like that, and roughhousing is more his style. This, however...it has a deeper meaning, and even though Kukui can take a hit like the best of them considering how he is and what he does for a living, Guzma still feels the weight of having struck Kukui like that weigh heavily on him. He doesn't want to do that again, not with the intent to really mean something. He talks big, yeah, but that's all it is most times - just talk.

Guzma always knew Kukui was better than him, always has been. That's why he always pesters him into fights, picks on him, and acts the big man around him. Because he wants to pretend he can stand up to him. Pretend he's just as good, if not better than him. It's a facade, and having to break it isn't easy.

He flinches back from Kukui when he's touched, pushing roughly against his shoulder to put distance between them. Guzma doesn't want to be anywhere near Kukui right now, and takes a heavy step back, exhausted just by that alone. His body feels heavy and stiff, and his heart is racing.]

Get...away...from me--! [It's hoarse, soft, and comes out like it's a sheer act of Guzma's willpower. But there's desperation in the taller man's voice, and it's not a thread, but a plea.]

[ Kukui lets go, steps back, gives him space like he asks. It would be cruel of him not to.

All he's ever wanted is to make things right. But maybe it's something he should have let go of a long time ago.

(He still hopes, though. He always has. Kukui doesn't give up, doesn't stop throwing himself at the goal; just keep getting up. Keep moving forward. In this as well as other things.)

He brushes his hand against his face, and if those are tears, well, he's not saying anything. Not out of pride, but because it's one more burden. It's better if Guzma hates him, maybe.

(But he hates that, in his own way. It hurts.) ]

...Huh.

That didn't really go too well, yeah? [ He'd try harder to sound lighthearted, but he's not feeling up to it right now. He just sounds tired. More than a little empty, honestly. ]

Edited 2017-01-13 03:14 (UTC)

[Once given space to breathe, Guzma does just that - he sinks into a crouch, the usual squat, and bows his head to just...breathe. His eyes squeeze shut as he tries to calm down, quell the urge to run away, to put as much distance between himself as Kukui as he possibly can. He doesn't want to run, but every pulse of his nerves sends a shock to his system: get out, get away, go, run. It takes all Guzma has to squash it.

He can't even be mad, his go-to emotion. He's just so...so emotionally exhausted. His head hangs and his arms rest on his knees. Honestly, Guzma isn't sure if he's about to hurl or pass out, but neither happen, and he's at least thankful it wasn't the former. His lip quirks up after Kukui speaks, and he rubs his face with one shaky hand.]

...Nah. [His shoulders shake with a broken chuckle.] For idiots like us, that's about what I expected.

Hey, there's only one idiot here.

[ He tries to laugh, at least, but it comes out wrong. More like a choke than a laugh, really. ]

S'not you, yeah?

[ He swipes his hand across his face, still trying to hold it in.

He's always been emotional. For better and for worse. It's trying, in times like now. ]

[The attempt at lightening the mood - because Guzma knows he's not built for this, he can't offer his sympathies like a normal person - falls flat. He doesn't know how to comfort someone well, it's just not what he does, how he acts. To offer one comfort, the opposite side needs to be open and honest - qualities Guzma does not have readily available. But.

But.

He can't ignore the way Kukui sounds just now. It stabs at his chest, draws points claws against his chest and pulls. He wishes he could care less, but there's not a chance of that now. He stands, still a little leaden, and shakes his head. He's love to tell Kukui he's wrong, but now's not the time for that. Guzma's not ready to bridge the gap between them, but the trench seems a little smaller now. Maybe.]

Kukui... [That's it, that's all he can think of to say. What else is there? He's no good at this.]

...It's nothing. Forget it, yeah?

[ He sounds a little pained, more than a little sad, but that's just how it is, isn't it? Kukui rushing ahead, messing things up. Always looking forward, charging without regard for anything else.

He tries to laugh, a little. It doesn't work so well.

It's closer than they've been in years, this strange atmosphere between them now. Even this feels better than such painful distance. ]

[For a moment, Guzma has to fight with himself - to let it go like he was asked. That's the easy way out, the way he's used to. Just forget about it and keep on going like how it's always been, how he's always been. But...what sort of change will he make if he keeps doing the same things? Keeps acting like the same punk he was as the leader of Team Skull? He says he can't change, and Guzma sort of believes it, but he...he wants to try. If anything, he's stubborn and determined to prove himself.

Maybe he can start here, right now, a toe in the water. If he can do this...this one little thing, then maybe--]

Kukui. Don't--...

[His tone is different. It's harder, more pointed, but not harsh. Guzma extends a hand out to Kukui, not to shake, but to clasp. He can't say it, words aren't what Guzma excels in, but he can at least do this much. One step at a time, little by little, he can...try. Even if it means never seeing Kukui upset like that again. Especially over a mess like him. He's not worth crying over, that's for damn sure.]

[ He blinks a few tears away, surprised briefly at Guzma just sticking his hand out, but...

He clasps it, almost immediately. Without hesitation (if there is, it's very little indeed). And if his grip is a little tight, if there's a little bit of unsteadiness there, what of it? He's not afraid to show it.

He's always wanted this back, or something like it. He wants to bridge the gap between them, too.

It's a start.

He smiles. A little. ]

[The grip on the other end is firm, sturdy, and though no words are spoken an oath is formed between the two men. Don't give up on me, is what Guzma would have asked, were he better and braver, and more outspoken. But no, he'll keep his wish in his heart, for now. It'll be a long road until he can trust Kukui again, but he's willing to give it a shot, at least. He wants his friend back, he just needs to...to get over his bitterness and anger at seemingly being left behind.

After a while, Guzma exhales and then puts his hands back into his jacket pockets, turning away with a snort.]

If we're done, you oughta get your face checked out, Kukui...it's lookin' more unsightly than usual.

CALL ME OUT/OPEN RP

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject