Displaced [Part 3]
Feb. 8th, 2016 06:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
esp_dragonFandom: Noblesse
Summary: The city is different, and M-21 can't place why. That's when he bumps into his younger self and he's sure Tao would say something along the lines of 'We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto'. Except he still is. Just not in the time he's used to anymore.
Notes: Thank hellse-bunny for this snippet, ahahah. Though this didn’t come out like you imagined it, hah…
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General
Word count: 748
Total word count: 1,535
Status: Work in progress
M-21 yawned, foregoing getting ready for bed. He could feel the fogginess in his thoughts, the lethargy in his limbs as he curled up in bed — it wouldn’t be long until the werewolf instincts took over and-
Shit.
His eyes flew open and he tried to sit up. He couldn’t, his body resisting him once he’d laid down, unwilling to move again.
Shitshitshit-! He’d gotten so used to the werewolf instincts taking over once a month that he’d noticed the symptoms but didn’t think much more about them.
He was used to the rest of the household knowing when the werewolf instincts were going to take over and looking after him while he was like that.
No-one knew here. Not in the same way.
Fuck.
His phone was on his bedside table, but it may as well have been on the other side of the house as instincts wrapped around his brain and took over.
* * *
M-21 changed his shoes after coming back into the house, hearing the kettle boil. It had to be Frankenstein or his older self — they always seemed to be able to time it perfectly to be right there when he and '24 returned.
It was Frankenstein this time, who smiled at them. “Would you two like tea?”
…He would. He’d started getting used to having a hot drink after a walk now. It had only been a few days and he was still waiting for the shift, for it all to be revealed everything was fake, but it still hadn’t happened yet. Everything being fake and a trap made more sense than himself travelling back from the fucking future.
Frankenstein brought their cups to counter, pouring the water in front of them.
M-21 heard the door to the living room burst open and he snapped his attention to it, trusting '24 to keep watching Frankenstein in case the scientist slipped something into their drinks while they were distracted.
It was his older self, wide-eyed and fuck, what was it that made him look panicked like that?
M ran at them. No, '24. M-21 stared as M threw himself at '24, wrapping his arms around his comrade, and was that a high-pitched whine M-21 was hearing?
It couldn’t be. M was always collected, always knew what to do or say in a situation. It was also fucking annoying that he couldn’t get a rise out of him whatever he did, and even doing that seemed to meet M’s expectations, M-21 getting met with a resigned expression.
M had to be missing the '24 from his own time. M-21 could understand that — he didn’t want to think what he would feel if he was separated from '24.
Except M’s shoulders were shaking.
Not just that. He was crying.
That reaction was too strong for just missing '24.
And… M had never directly said what '24 had been doing. M-21 had assumed '24 was always by his side so M hadn’t needed to mention him, but if he was reacting like this… M-21 shared a look with '24. That had to explain the stares he’d sometimes caught M doing when he thought no-one was looking.
“M?” Frankenstein was frowning, the kettle sitting by M-21 and '24’s cups.
M lifted his head to look away from '24 and-
And growled.
…Fuck. This had to be what M had meant when he said the werewolf instincts took over.
Frankenstein didn’t say anything, studying M’s face.
M growled again, lilting in the same way, but this time it ended with a whine. Like…a question? M-21 frowned, trying to figure out how he knew that. Was it his own werewolf heart trying to translate?
M was looking between Frankenstein and '24, a high-pitched whine in his throat. How was he even making those sounds?
“Yes…” Frankenstein said, drawing the word out, like he wanted to make sure he had the right answer. “This is M-24.”
M slumped at that, his hands clutching at '24’s suit. The keen made M-21 swallow, his own heart hurting in sympathy.
He didn’t object when '24 drew his arms around M, comforting him like he always did with M-21 when he needed it.
How could he object? He knew he would have reacted the same if he’d been in the same position, and how had M kept himself together all this time, seeing someone who had died, standing in front of him again?
And no longer treated him like he remembered.
Shit.
Summary: The city is different, and M-21 can't place why. That's when he bumps into his younger self and he's sure Tao would say something along the lines of 'We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto'. Except he still is. Just not in the time he's used to anymore.
Notes: Thank hellse-bunny for this snippet, ahahah. Though this didn’t come out like you imagined it, hah…
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General
Word count: 748
Total word count: 1,535
Status: Work in progress
M-21 yawned, foregoing getting ready for bed. He could feel the fogginess in his thoughts, the lethargy in his limbs as he curled up in bed — it wouldn’t be long until the werewolf instincts took over and-
Shit.
His eyes flew open and he tried to sit up. He couldn’t, his body resisting him once he’d laid down, unwilling to move again.
Shitshitshit-! He’d gotten so used to the werewolf instincts taking over once a month that he’d noticed the symptoms but didn’t think much more about them.
He was used to the rest of the household knowing when the werewolf instincts were going to take over and looking after him while he was like that.
No-one knew here. Not in the same way.
Fuck.
His phone was on his bedside table, but it may as well have been on the other side of the house as instincts wrapped around his brain and took over.
M-21 changed his shoes after coming back into the house, hearing the kettle boil. It had to be Frankenstein or his older self — they always seemed to be able to time it perfectly to be right there when he and '24 returned.
It was Frankenstein this time, who smiled at them. “Would you two like tea?”
…He would. He’d started getting used to having a hot drink after a walk now. It had only been a few days and he was still waiting for the shift, for it all to be revealed everything was fake, but it still hadn’t happened yet. Everything being fake and a trap made more sense than himself travelling back from the fucking future.
Frankenstein brought their cups to counter, pouring the water in front of them.
M-21 heard the door to the living room burst open and he snapped his attention to it, trusting '24 to keep watching Frankenstein in case the scientist slipped something into their drinks while they were distracted.
It was his older self, wide-eyed and fuck, what was it that made him look panicked like that?
M ran at them. No, '24. M-21 stared as M threw himself at '24, wrapping his arms around his comrade, and was that a high-pitched whine M-21 was hearing?
It couldn’t be. M was always collected, always knew what to do or say in a situation. It was also fucking annoying that he couldn’t get a rise out of him whatever he did, and even doing that seemed to meet M’s expectations, M-21 getting met with a resigned expression.
M had to be missing the '24 from his own time. M-21 could understand that — he didn’t want to think what he would feel if he was separated from '24.
Except M’s shoulders were shaking.
Not just that. He was crying.
That reaction was too strong for just missing '24.
And… M had never directly said what '24 had been doing. M-21 had assumed '24 was always by his side so M hadn’t needed to mention him, but if he was reacting like this… M-21 shared a look with '24. That had to explain the stares he’d sometimes caught M doing when he thought no-one was looking.
“M?” Frankenstein was frowning, the kettle sitting by M-21 and '24’s cups.
M lifted his head to look away from '24 and-
And growled.
…Fuck. This had to be what M had meant when he said the werewolf instincts took over.
Frankenstein didn’t say anything, studying M’s face.
M growled again, lilting in the same way, but this time it ended with a whine. Like…a question? M-21 frowned, trying to figure out how he knew that. Was it his own werewolf heart trying to translate?
M was looking between Frankenstein and '24, a high-pitched whine in his throat. How was he even making those sounds?
“Yes…” Frankenstein said, drawing the word out, like he wanted to make sure he had the right answer. “This is M-24.”
M slumped at that, his hands clutching at '24’s suit. The keen made M-21 swallow, his own heart hurting in sympathy.
He didn’t object when '24 drew his arms around M, comforting him like he always did with M-21 when he needed it.
How could he object? He knew he would have reacted the same if he’d been in the same position, and how had M kept himself together all this time, seeing someone who had died, standing in front of him again?
And no longer treated him like he remembered.
Shit.