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[howtheyshine]

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[howtheyshine]

I get to choose.

This time there's more lightness to the statement, a borderline wonder.

That's really-- That's really it?

[greatoldjohn]

He nods. Slowly. Then gives him a little squeeze.

That's the biggest part. What... guides everything else. The shape that you fill in.

[howtheyshine]

I never-- I never got to tell you that I picked a surname. Right before the breach. I forgot to mention it after, with... everything.

Anxiety hums through him, that familiar sense that something important is about to be put at risk, and he realizes choosing might be simple, but it also might be far from easy.

B...

Buck.

I-I'll probably use Cho, too, because I think that would make Jedao and Hakkai happy but-- I wanted... I wanted one that was... mine. J-Just mine.

[greatoldjohn]

He's going to run his hand along the little fox back, up and down, soothing.

It's a good name.

Very very fond.

Did I tell you that my name was John Hart in one breach? I've considered using that one day, since John Doe has certain connotations in the mortal world. Maybe when I feel like I'm ready for it. Names can be... powerful that way.

[howtheyshine]

I like that, John Hart. JD Hart. The D can stand for something. Don't people have 'middle' names, too?

A pause.

I didn't really... think about it, when I picked Edwin. It didn't mean much to me at the time, but it was something that wasn't 'Yellow.' It was something that didn't hurt to hear.

I don't think...

Before now, before right now, I don't think I ever thought about what I actually want, for me. I always think about... what will make people happy with me, because I'm happy when they're happy with me.

Or maybe happy isn't the right word.

I'm... relieved, I can relax, when people are happy with me.

...Except when I get angry enough to forget it matters.

[greatoldjohn]

Yeah, I definitely know how that goes.

He isn't mocking him with that; he means every word. The amount that his own happiness depends on that of those around him is significant. It's also just hard to see a better thing to do than make them feel good.

It took me a while too. Thinking about a future beyond that is hard even without other people.

[howtheyshine]

Especially when in the... place we were, you don't think about anything but... surviving. Nothing matters but continuing to exist.

Larson-- Being with Larson felt like that. It made me remember feeling like that.

...Richter made me feel it and...

It didn't make me feel better, hurting him. I wanted it to make me feel better.

[greatoldjohn]

I'm not sorry it didn't. But I hope we can find a way to make you feel better. I'll do everything I can. I can-

He's quiet for a moment because he doesn't want to make it worse.

I learned how to heal. I can show you how to help it go faster.

[howtheyshine]

He's not sure what to say, right away. His first reaction is a snap of resentment and jealousy. It's a reminder of how powerless he is, how much more powerless he'll be when the Dreamlands fade from the barge.

He wants it to heal. He also... doesn't. He wants it to be over.

It's very, very strange to have the sudden wish to talk to Arthur. Someone who understands that feeling.

Who showed you?

Information buys time, knowledge always matters--Larson proved him right on that one, at least.

[greatoldjohn]

No one.

I had to find a way myself.

Because how many things like them get injured? How many beings like them get torn apart? There's no books or spells to teach that. He learned how to heal by healing.

[howtheyshine]

I can learn.

He can figure it out. He can do it himself, too.

[greatoldjohn]

I know you can. That's why I offered to show you.

A pause before-

It's something I can do to help.

Can I?

[howtheyshine]

I meant--

He stops himself. John can still feel it, the soft edge of resentment, the bitterness of weakness, the shame of ignorance.

Yellow stops himself, because his brother wants to help. John asks him for so fucking little.

Okay.

[greatoldjohn]

He can.

And he does ask for so very little. There are times to cash that in and this feels like one of them.

For a lot of reasons.

Watch here. I still have a few spots left.

[howtheyshine]

He looks, or directs his attention, or whatever you want to call 'watching' in the space they share. He's not enthusiastic about it, but he's doing as he's told.

[greatoldjohn]

He'll focus down on a little crack of gray, clearly just a spot that's in the end of it's cycle. Edwin can probably see and feel and hear the memories he's drawing on to make the area around it bright and molten and golden. And slowly, they roll over the gray mark and the feeling of something patched fades.

It's the two of them watching Hogfather for Christmas.

[howtheyshine]

Oh. That-- doesn't hurt, exactly, no. That's not the right word. It aches, though. It makes him feel... Lonely is the wrong word, too. He feels strange and cut off from the warmth of the memory, like it's something behind a gelatinous, shifting barrier that will drown him if he tries to push through it. Like he's a ghost watching a better version of himself live the life that got taken away.

What kind of memories work?

[greatoldjohn]

The kind that remind you of who you are. What you want to be. How you're shaping yourself towards that.

He reaches for Edwin, and if Edwin lets him, he'll pull him to touch the memory with him.

If it's hard, you can use some of mine.

[howtheyshine]

Yellow resists, briefly, half habit and half nerves and wholly not wanting to ruin the memory by touching it. He braces himself for it to crumble or darken or something as the thing he is brushes against John's recollection. Braces himself for a poisoned well, a fresh and different injury to his brother.

[greatoldjohn]

It does nothing of the sort. Instead, it's just warm and familiar, breathes life and color back into the memory.

For better or worse, brother, you can't break me. Least of all when you don't want to. It's okay.

[howtheyshine]

Warm, familiar, happy, safe. Death's words come back to him before the memory drifts to that moment--

There's no better present than a future.

He can feel it call to a piece of himself, he can feel the life in it, but he's--

He's afraid. He's afraid to make anything better, in case it gets worse again.

[greatoldjohn]

There is only now, Edwin.

The past happened. Being happy now won't change it.

There's no telling what's in the future, and being unhappy now won't automatically make it better. Or worse. Or anything.

All we have is right now to choose what makes us happy, to love one another.

Don't waste now.

[howtheyshine]

The shame stirs up again like kicked silt.

I'm... angry and scared and I don't... know how to be happy anyway. I don't know how to be happy when those things block everything else out.

[greatoldjohn]

Why are you angry?

Why are you scared?

[howtheyshine]

There are so many reasons. There are so many. Physically, he tucks little tighter underneath John's chin. Internally, the cascade of why colors his form in dim shades of emptiness that move over the surface of his being like spilled oil over water.

None of it is 'now' things.