第5: esteemed emily #1 (voice)

[unfollowing]

[The few "letters" Emily has received since graciously offering her services as an advice-giver are, as expected, shit. Hell, two of them aren't even real requests, just her idiot friends being idiots (in the best way, she misses when it was always like this, simple, harmless, fun). The one actually serious one is about as bad as she'd thought she'd get from the hopeless disasters in this cave, so hey. This isn't bad.

Honestly, the hardest part about this is deciding what format to do this in. Finally, on the morning of the 21st, she decides to just get this shit done. At least one idiot out there needs her help. She doesn't want to video this (mostly because she doesn't want to work with the shitty makeup here, come on, she knows what cameras do to you), but text won't convey her message quite well enough, so. Voice it is.]

I'm just going to dive right into this. I got three submissions. I'm going to read them off one at a time and answer each before I go to the next one. These are supposed to be anonymous, so try not to be such assholes that you out someone if you figure out who they are.

Unless they're obviously trolling, which-- well. You'll see.

Here goes.

First up is this fucking gem [heavy is the sarcasm in Esteemed Emily's voice]:

Esteemed Emily,

I have a friend who is a total nerd but in complete denial about it, even though she's getting nerdier by the day and soon may surpass even me in the nerd ways. What should I do to help her accept her true self and her destiny?

Signed,
I'm locking my door so don't bother coming down here

[There's a pause where Emily sighs quietly, but even in the relative silence, it's exceedingly clear how unimpressed she is.] Chris, you're an idiot. You wish I were a nerd, just so you could claim you're cool by association with me. Newsflash: you aren't. Code yourself an app that'll run through some formulas or whatever to help you get the fuck over the fact that you will always and forever be the second nerdiest person I know.

Second, an actual question:

So say an opinionated girl made out with the local teenage girl hater. She's fairly conflicted about the whole thing. What should she do?

-Opinionated Girl

I'm guessing you're a teenage girl, so my first thought is, why the fuck did you make out with someone who hates you? Do you hate yourself too?

[NOBODY can guess who the local teenage girl hater is, right? Jesus fucking Christ.]

Seriously, I don't know what the fuck to tell you. Like, we all make mistakes, [she's thinking about Mike] but... like why are you conflicted here. He hates you. Was he that good that you want to hate makeout and maybe hatefuck? That's up to you, but if it were me, I would punch him in the balls and move on unless he changes his ways. Please fucking love yourself. Or at least be safe, goddamn.

[Another pause for breath. Christ. Dealing with hopeless people is hard.]

Finally, the best of the litter [again with the sarcasm]:

hey em i got this friend who likes giving people advice but im clearly better at giving advice i never steer anyone wrong

how do i take her job

Do I even need to tell you how wrong you are? Idiot. Besides, nobody's stopping you from starting Jolly Josh or whatever. No, you know what? Stick to shitposting. You've got that down to a science.

[Another pause, another sigh, and (if you listen very closely) a very dramatic eyeroll.]

Look, just stop being disasters, all right? There's like five of you that have come to me asking for dating advice already. Just talk to the person you like. If you want to fuck them, ask them. If you want to hold hands, ask them. If you want to just be best goddamn friends with them, ask them.

That's literally it. Stop being morons.

Goddamn.

[End.]

Comments

cw implied child abuse

[torrefied]

I did hate him. I do still, I think - but there's more to it. It's complicated.

[How can he put into easily parsed words the emotional weight that Near carries for him? Not just because he's L, and because L is incredibly important, and because the idea of facing a world without L a second time is too painful to imagine - because he's Near, the flip side of Mello's coin. Even when they went years without speaking, Near never left Mello's mind entirely. A rivalry isn't pure hatred - there's an unspoken aspect of partnership to it, a push to outmatch the other that makes you better in the process. Without that push, what would Mello be? That's what he'd realized when he'd imagined Near falling victim to Kira's ruse, why he couldn't just sit back and watch it happen, why he couldn't just let Near die and move in to capture the king afterwards. Near would be fine without him, he'd thought. He'd continue doing what L always did, calmly and unemotionally solving puzzles. But Mello would have nothing to measure himself against, which meant he would have been nothing. He may as well not exist. Mello drops his hand from his face and lazily drapes his arm over his bent knee as he looks up to Sharon again.]

I know my upbringing was unusual. But I wasn't forced into it. It was my choice to be there, and it was a much better place than the first institution that took me in. No one there ever slapped me for speaking out or took a wooden paddle to me for whatever transgressions I may have committed. I was encouraged there - to compete, yes, but also to better myself. To think critically and creatively, and to solve problems too. Without that encouragement, I don't think the odds would have been in my favor.

[They weren't in his favor as it stands, but he can imagine how much worse he might have turned out without the House's influence. Maybe he would have become a criminal kingpin all the same. Maybe he would have become the sort of man who delights in hurting others. Maybe he would have been dead much sooner.]

I know he's not perfect. But he's as close to it as is possible in all the ways that are important.

[But she's right - Near should have considered the possibility of a fake notebook. It seems to so screamingly obvious to Mello; why wouldn't it have occurred to Near? Maybe that particular gambit stayed too far outside of the box for Near's mind to wrap around it. Mello reaches for the knife embedded in the ground in front of him and gives it a hard yank out.]

I don't know. Maybe I don't know him as well as I thought I did.

[unitas]

[ The way her nose wrinkles, the way her lips press into a thin line give way to the idea that Sharon is holding back argument, holding back her sharp opinions on his life, and his past. A child can make a choice, but never know that the choice they've made is one that was made for them. Or that the better choice in a pile of shit choices is also not a choice.

That he didn't deserve those choices, and shouldn't have had to make them in the first place.

But she does not say a word, not on that topic. She holds her tongue, and her fire, and breathes in through her nose slowly to calm the anger that hums like a machine in her chest. It doesn't dispel.

As he talks of his rival, she frowns. ] Did something happen?

[torrefied]

[It's such an absurdly simple question, and the answer should be equally easy, but it's not. A single spoken phrase, and Mello's entire worldview has been upended. He turns his attention to the knife in his hands, slowly twirling the point of the blade on the pad of his outstretched index finger. There's not enough pressure to cut skin and draw blood, only enough to be a reminder of the threat of destruction.]

When we had those shared dreams ... he was in most of them, somehow. I guess that's not surprising. But there was one that was different. He was a kid again, and he said ... he said I was good. Very good.

[He has to stop here, pause for a long moment while the truth of those words spoken in his own faltering voice washes over him. It still doesn't feel real, but it hurts, and it's difficult for Mello to analyze why this one particular thing causes him such pain. He allows the knife to fall from his hands to the ground and rakes both hands through his hair in a wordless expression of frustration.]

I thought it was just me, my subconscious and Hope's influence - those dreams happened before he turned up here. But it wasn't just me. He said something today that was just like what he said in the dream. A clue, that he'd been there in the dream too, that he remembered, that he wanted me to remember what he said.

[unitas]

[ This rivalry is something Sharon does not believe she's capable of understanding. It sounds to her as if his rival is playing him, leaving clues for him to analyze, and turn over, and over in his head like there's something else to it, something deeper.

It seems fucking cruel. She frowns. ]

Why wouldn't he just be outright with it? [ Why leave him flapping in the wind? It's just fucked. ]

[torrefied]

[In some ways, without the context of lived experience within the Wammy's House machine, the particularities of the relationship between Mello and Near may be impossible to understand completely. Hell, Mello may not even understand it himself now, given this new information.]

Because .... I don't know, because that's not how we were taught to be with people. Because that's just how he is. Because - I don't know.

[He's repeating himself, stupidly, helplessly. There is something inside of him that feels dangerously close to shattering, and that's just not acceptable. Mello refuses to let this be the thing that destroys him. His fingers curl tight in his hair as he forces himself to take a deep breath and regain control of this situation as best he can, under the circumstances. The danger passes, and Mello drops his hands from his head, clasping them tightly together in front of him instead as he looks up to Sharon, as if she'll somehow have an answer for him.]

I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I can't just pretend it doesn't matter.

[unitas]

[ Sharon reaches out to gently press her palm against his shoulder, awkward given her preference for personal space, but she's not sure how else to offer comfort. It's not like she's got a wealth of friendship/rival advice under her belt, just a lonely high school experience, but she wants to help.

Even if she can't understand. ]

It's a good thing, right? It would be stupid of you to pretend it didn't matter. The only thing I think you can do is accept it.

[torrefied]

[It may not seem like much - just a hand on his shoulder - but for Mello, such a gesture is more meaningful than he can accurately express with words. He doesn't typically seek out comfort, because he has needed for so much of his life to be self-sufficient in all things where possible, and asking for comfort means admitting to weakness.

But he wasn't born into the life he eventually chose. Distant memories stir from far corners of his mind, instances from early childhood where touch and comfort were a normal response. Maybe it's because everything feels too sharp under the tumultuous reordering of Mello's worldview, thanks to Near's admission, but this small thing, a hand on his shoulder, a reminder of the time before he was molded into a problem-solving machine and was allowed to be human - it stops his breath in the back of his throat and pulls his focus forward, out of his rapidly cycling thoughts and into the stark truth of what Sharon's said. She's right; he cannot change what has already happened. The logical course of action is to accept this new reality and work within it.

Very gently, Mello reaches up and covers Sharon's hand on his shoulder with his own, a mirror gesture of solidarity.]

You're right. I don't know if it's a good thing ... but accepting it is the only thing that makes sense.

[He isn't accustomed to expressing gratitude; the words feel clumsy on his tongue, part of a language half-forgotten over time, rusty with disuse. But every time he says these words, they get a little easier to speak, and Mello has thanked Sharon more in the short span of time that he's known her than the rest of his life since he was a very small child.]

... Thank you, Sharon.

[unitas]

[ Beneath his hand, her fingers tense: a moment where she resists the urge to pull her hand back suddenly. Her heart pounds a little more loudly in her ears, something sweet, and warm, and decidedly uncomfortable pulsing through her. Embers of something, something she fears may start a wildfire.

She wants to stamp them out, but settles for swallowing back the thick feelings in her throat as he expresses his gratitude. She smiles, a little uncomfortable, too acutely aware of herself now. It's as if all the little things are a hundred, or a thousand, or a billion times more important. ]

It's what friends are for. [ The words come out several moments late, and they feel heavy on her tongue. She squeezes his shoulder, and then slips her hand out from beneath his, pulling both of her hands into her lap; a part of her wishes she'd lingered another moment longer. ]

[torrefied]

[She's right about that, too. Mello may only have a tenuous grasp on what friendship is, but he does recognize the truth of what she says, that friendship is about mutual support, about understanding, about knowing that there is someone in a world that is often harsh and nonsensical who will help you find true north. That's why after his network of resources had been demolished, Mello turned to Matt.

... Right, Matt. His friend, who had been killed in the course of helping Mello abduct Takada. Maybe it hasn't happened yet for Mello, but he still feels a twist of guilt deep in his gut when he thinks about it. Mello is prepared to sacrifice himself for his goals, but Matt's death is collateral damage he hadn't anticipated. He gives Sharon a thin smile.]

Are you sure you want me for a friend? I'm pretty terrible at it.

[There's a note of levity coating his words, but there's truth there, too. People who stick around him tend to end up dead.]

[unitas]

[ It's almost a question she wants to ask him in return, like if she doesn't, it will give him a chance to back out, but she doesn't. Instead, she smiles. ]

I don't think I have a choice. [ Because she already cares. Once she cares, that's it, no turning back no matter how bad it could get in the future. ] You're kind of stuck with me now, sorry.

[torrefied]

[You always have a choice, even if the choices aren't good ones - that's what Mello believes wholeheartedly. But even if Sharon doesn't phrase it as such, she has chosen him, in a way, and he understands that, intuitively, without the need for words.]

I'm not. Sorry about it, I mean.

[He decides, here and now, that if he has any say in the matter, no one will ever hurt Sharon again. Because he cares, too.]

[unitas]

[ The smile, this time, is a little wider, a little more open, a little brighter. She wants to tell him all the ways he'll be sorry because it feels like she should warn him—bad things happen to the people she cares for—but maybe he'll be the one person she can keep safe. ]

Good. [ She's pleased. Maybe they're both fuck ups, messes in suits of skin, but she likes him, and all his mess. And it seems like he likes her, and all her mess, too. That feels like a good thing. ]