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[Magpie stares up at him, past the cup, with red, swollen eyes and pinched white cheeks. What the shit? What the fuck? In fact, he says that.]

... wha'fuck. [Again, he sniffles, lowering his head a fraction to wipe his nose on his sleeve.]

Why not? Why can't you just be mad at me?

Because I have no reason to be.

[He's still holding out the cup, but there's no rush to take it.]

Our mother's death was not easy to cope with. Even if we came to different conclusions and our feelings differ, it's nonetheless a deeply scarring facet of our lives. Are you angry, perhaps? That she 'left you behind.'

[There's no hint of disdain nor accusatory tone to his words. It's a simple, honest question.]

[His lower lip trembles and turns outward as he scowls. He's not angry with her; not with his real mother. At least, he's sure he's not.]

I'm mad at everything. Not her. I hate everything.

[The shiver is making it hard to talk. But it's coming from inside, rather than outside. He knows he sounds like the stupid child he is, and, he insists to himself, he doesn't even really care. He'll be fine when Crow is disgusted and leaves him in the snow.]

I know you don't really hate everything, Magpie.

[He's not moving. The cocoa is still there.]

Let's get back inside. You're shivering.

[But it's not the cold that's making him shiver. Part of him wants so much to get up and take the cocoa and plod back to the house. Wants so much to delude himself he still has a place. Wants to take a bath and go to bed early and cry and cry and cry.

He sniffles. Shit.]

[Crow continues holding the cocoa with one hand, but he tempts fate by placing the other on Magpie's shoulder.]

She doesn't have to stay with us. Your feelings and boundaries matter. If you don't want to see her or even hear about her, then that's all right. I want you to feel safe.

[What the fuck? His head jerks up to stare, but he doesn't pull away.]

That's not true! You don't mean that! You—you'll—

[God. Fuck. Shit. Why was he so stupid? He bites his lip, refusing to cry.]

You're family, too.

[His hand remains on Magpie's shoulder, grip tightening.]

And I do mean that. I don't want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable, let alone make you feel as though you have to step away.

[His whole face pinches shut like a clam. You're family. You're family. That's not true; it's never true. Never, ever true. Even his mama...

His eyes drop from Crow's face, painfully wide as he stares down at his lap. And then, quietly at first but increasingly less quietly, he starts to cry.]

Hey.

[Crow sets the mug down to free up his other hand and... pulls Magpie into a hug.]

It's all right. You can cry if you need to. I'm here.

[So he does. He grabs on with both hands, and sobs as if he's been saving it up since he was six years old.

It takes a long time. He doesn't let go when he's done; just goes limp against Crow, eyes half-cracked and painful in the snow, tousled head nestled against him. He doesn't feel washed clean, or all the stuff people say. More like he was feeling everything at once for a long while, and now he's forgotten how.

He nestles. Just a bit.]

Edited 2023-12-23 04:33 (UTC)

[You know what? He's just going to gently pat Magpie's head. It's okay. It's gonna be okay.]

There, there. You don't have to process everything at once. Feelings are difficult on even the best of days.

[Yeah, he's not going to argue. No "I'm not having feelings", or "I'm fine, Crow-san", or anything else from his bag of tricks. He just clings, nestling quieter and closer like a kitten to its... well, to its mother. He feels okay, maybe?

Then he has a thought, which he manages to express.] You're cold.

Nothing a kotatsu can't fix.

[He's not letting go yet, though. Not until Magpie's ready.]

We can always head home, and I can set things up for us. The cocoa is still warm, if you'd like to drink it on the way back.

Okay. [To be honest, he is a bit cold. He's starting to realise he can't feel his legs.

But he doesn't want to let go, either. He clings tighter, still trying to do it without being noticed. Without being seen.]

Hold on. I have an idea.

[He's just gonna adjust his grip on Magpie annnd... Stand up, making sure to hold him steady. It's okay. He has good, strong arms.

The cocoa is still right there, but... well. He can make more. Maybe a friendly spirit or demon will appreciate it. Or maybe Magpie will want to grab it anyway.]

[He kind of does. That's perfectly good cocoa, in one of Dojima-san's mugs. Or a copy of one. But he clings.]

My legs are wobbly. Can we—

[Yeah, he'll just lean against Crow while he figures out legs. And clinging, conveniently. His arms creep quietly around Crow's waist.]

Take your time.

[He pauses, looking down.]

Would you like me to grab the mug, or would you? I just don't want to make you uncomfortable.

Edited 2023-12-23 05:49 (UTC)

[Exhausted, he looks up a little, still clinging, before finally letting go and carefully bending to pick up the rapidly-cooling mug.]

There. All done.

[Except he feels incomplete. But now they can go back, maybe.]

If you want to hold my hand, you can. I know you and Raven do rather frequently.

[The important thing is that Magpie chooses it. Crow won't force anything.]

[What? He glances up, startled and wary. Crow isn't meant to... well, he isn't meant to say.

He doesn't take Crow's hand. What he does do, is stand close. Really close. So close he's almost pressed into place like a limpet. Then he looks up again, calmer, a little bit blue, and starting to shiver for real.]

That's spying. You're not meant to leak information. That's terrible detective work.

[But they can go now. Magpie will just... stay here. In fixed orbit.]

In my defense, I'm not consciously spying. But particularly strong feelings do tend to bleed the heaviest, so to speak.

[Still, close is fine. Crow chuckles and looks down at the mug.]

You really should drink that before it gets too cold, though.

[Either way, he'll move when Magpie is ready.]

It's cold.

[But he doesn't sound too grumpy about it, and takes a tiny sip as they start to move as one unit. Then he downs half the mug, of course, cradling the mug in his big gloves.]

I can make some more once we're inside. It's really no trouble.

[Just a short little walk down the snowy road. With the compressed distances they'll reach it in no time.]

I don't want to be any— [He breaks off and almost laughs. He's a mess, isn't he?

He's finished the cocoa, too, cold or not. And he's really cold. He needs a bath, and a hot drink, and bed. But he just murmurs a soft little thank you, until they're through the door.]

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