It's almost a relief to hear outside his own head. Mako knows he's changing, knows that things are shifting inside him as fast as the ground beneath his feet. He doesn't know what to do with those changes, where to put them, whether to keep them. He's opening up, and that's terrifying: every step he takes into a world where he tells people the things he's feeling is one that exposes him just a little more to getting hurt and turning jaded and sad like the people who have been here for a long time. He thought he was the kind of person who could just accept the present, who wasn't sentimental enough to hold onto the pointless past but here he is, trying to grasp at the straws of it.
What does it mean, his mind keeps asking. Is it okay? Am I okay?
It isn't a new question. ]
I don't know if that's true. I just... I don't know.
That's okay. [ Wu says it quietly, staying close, watching him with soft eyes. His annoyance is gone, now, replaced by just wanting Mako to be okay, wanting him to be able to sleep and go about his day without the threat of burning up into nothing ] You don't have to know. And before you say anything-- I know you hate that. I know you hate not knowing stuff, but it's really okay. We can figure it out, it just, it's not going to happen all at once.
[ He knows that, because it happened to him, too. He was so unsure of himself, so scared that he was different, tried so hard to shape who he wanted to be, only to become someone else entirely. It's terrifying, but he can help Mako, he thinks. He can help him.
[ To bed. It takes a moment for the words to filter through the fog. The air thick and strange and unfamiliar, and Mako shifts slightly, glancing around at the mess. ]
[ Mako almost protests. He resists for a moment, making Wu pull harder, sure that if he leaves he's never going to get the recipe at all and that they're just going to wake up to a horrible mess, but it's like Wu's words flip a switch in him. Exhaustion washes over him in a cold wave a moment later, and Mako lets out a slow breath and relents, letting himself be pulled away from ginger and soy sauce and tamarind, up toward their room. ]
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It's almost a relief to hear outside his own head. Mako knows he's changing, knows that things are shifting inside him as fast as the ground beneath his feet. He doesn't know what to do with those changes, where to put them, whether to keep them. He's opening up, and that's terrifying: every step he takes into a world where he tells people the things he's feeling is one that exposes him just a little more to getting hurt and turning jaded and sad like the people who have been here for a long time. He thought he was the kind of person who could just accept the present, who wasn't sentimental enough to hold onto the pointless past but here he is, trying to grasp at the straws of it.
What does it mean, his mind keeps asking. Is it okay? Am I okay?
It isn't a new question. ]
I don't know if that's true. I just... I don't know.
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[ He knows that, because it happened to him, too. He was so unsure of himself, so scared that he was different, tried so hard to shape who he wanted to be, only to become someone else entirely. It's terrifying, but he can help Mako, he thinks. He can help him.
Carefully, he leans in to kiss Mako's cheek ]
Can you come to bed?
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I should... clean up. First.
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We can clean in the morning. Okay? You need some sleep, then we can, we can talk more.
[ He really just wants Mako to rest, to have some distance from his sauce project, before they have to tackle anything more ]
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