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staycalmandhugaclone · 11 months

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Breaking Point Pt 5

Part 5 of Breaking Point. I implore you not to read this until after working your way through the entirety of Doc's Misadventures beginning, of course with Touch Starved!

Warnings: Non-explicit sex scene, profanity, and dread/guilt - might offer an explicit chapter later, but it wasn't important to the scene, so I didn't go into it this time

WC: 3,671

I didn’t sleep that night; couldn’t bring myself to even lay down beneath that blanket with the feral scent still clinging to the scratchy fibers. With the supplies already in the room, I neurotically cleaned all evidence from flesh still elated with the afterglow of his touch yet found myself panicking that Hunter would be able to smell it come morning regardless. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, breath reduced to shallow huffs as I paced the small room, mind obsessing over the inevitable disaster awaiting me.

Crosshair was my squadmate, my patient. Ethical concerns aside, the hard-won place I’d earned among these men might easily fall to ruins for the sake of a single night’s base pleasure. How would this alter the dynamic between us? Kriff, how would this alter the dynamic between them? I’d be a fool to claim ignorance to the tensions lying between me and others, which was precisely why it was so important to maintain some distance. But this…

Even through that crippling dread, still I felt the driving need to find him, to seek out some hidden enclave and claim him once more until that fire quelled and I could think clearly. I couldn’t free myself from the memory of his touch, the way my skin burned beneath his; the gentleness of his lips… the look in those eyes…

Nearly gasping, I dropped down against a wall, knees tucking to my chest as my hands raked through my hair. There was no going back from this. I couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen; I didn’t want to. More than that, I owed the others the truth. But what was that, exactly? It hadn’t felt like aimless sex. My heart still jumped at just the thought of how he looked at me, how he held me, the heat of his chest pressed against my back.

I slammed my head against the hard wall behind me. Maker, I hadn’t yet begun to move on from the sudden loss of my brother, from the hatred in his face as he faded beneath my hands, from the yawning emptiness clawing through my chest with endless unanswered questions and regrets and an anger only just beginning to color the very edges of my grief. The juxta wrenching me from horror to lust and sorrow to elation was stemmed only by the compounding dread flooding my every thought; dread of facing this war absent any hope of reconnecting with what little family I’d left behind; dread of what I’d find in the eyes of the others when I told them what I’d done, of the disgust or shame or anger or regret or jealously - I couldn’t begin to guess what they’d feel from it… dread from finally begging Crosshair for some hint towards what last night meant, the terror of hearing him say that it meant nothing at all.

Too soon, I heard Wrecker’s voice, the boisterous sound easily carrying through the ship regardless his obvious attempts to quiet himself. I couldn’t make out the words, nor could I tell who responded to him during the brief lull in his speech, but if he was awake, the others were, too. I knew there was no point in stalling yet couldn’t bring myself to move. Not yet. I merely listened to the hum of gentle conversation for just a few minutes longer, dragging out this fleeting taste of a calm I knew my presence would shatter.

With a shaky breath, I hauled myself to my feet and slipped on my boots, though some unnamed hesitation forbade me from adorning the rest of my kit. I needed to talk to Crosshair first; I needed to understand before I could hope to explain it to the others.

Those distant murmurs fell silent the instant my door hissed open. I tried not to think about that, tried to focus on just the one thing: find Cross. The bunkrooms were empty, but I didn’t need to check the rest of the ship. His rifle was gone. That was all the proof I needed that he was outside. I’d so nearly reached the ramp when Hunter trotted quickly to catch me. Had the pounding of my heart drawn him toward me? Were my steps too fast? Too heavy? Maker, I wasn’t ready for this yet.

“Hey… You okay?” The deep concern in his hushed voice only worsened that crippling ache in my chest, and I loathed the knowledge that he could smell the adrenaline flooding my veins.

“Yeah.” I answered on a barely audible wisp of breath, arms instinctually tucking around my stomach, steps faltering for a stride before pointedly continuing, but his hand settled delicately around my arm, freezing me in place.

“What’s going on?” He pressed, and I could have sobbed from the gentleness in those words.

“I kriffed Crosshair last night.” I couldn’t look at him as I said it, certain I would break if I did, and the instant he released me, the instant the shock of my statement left him floundering, I pushed away from him, nearly racing down the ramp.

I barely glanced around the narrow bit of land separating the Marauder from the forests, pointedly ignoring the striking realization of just how close that tree was where I’d found him illuminated only by moonlight. Only Echo stood within sight of the ship, attention instantly turning to me.

“Where is he?” He stammered briefly at the question, at the brusqueness in my too stiff voice.

“Uh… Crosshair?” He clarified. Gaze staring blindly at the gritty soil beneath him, I gave a quick nod, and he pointed toward an unseen path behind me. “He left maybe… five minutes ago?” Without another word, I turned away from him. “Wait, you shouldn’t-” Whatever he was going to say was cut off from what I could only assume to be a sharp hand signal from Hunter, and I couldn’t help but be grateful for it.

Later, I might be aghast at how I’d reacted. Later, I might find my cheeks flushing with shame at the mere memory of those words falling so thoughtlessly from my lips. Later, I would lie awake for hours recanting it, searching for some manner of apology that might lessen the insult they’d brought. In that moment, however, as I walked purposefully into the unmarked wilderness, I couldn’t hold onto a single thought beyond the coming conversation. This first. I needed to figure this out first, and then I would move on to the next nightmare.

He didn’t look at me when I finally came upon him; arms crossed tightly over his chest as he leaned against a large boulder, visor pointed toward the featureless trees dotting the nearly black soil before us, but I could see the tension steal through his shoulders as I approached him. We weren’t even half a klick from the others, and I didn’t doubt he’d left purely in an attempt to prevent even accidently seeing me.

“We’re talking about this.” I stated pointedly, stopping when mere meters separated us. Still, he wouldn’t look at me.

“Say what you need to.” My teeth ground at the defeat vainly hidden beneath disinterest, but the way his gaze fell left me terrified that he was merely awaiting the coming sting of harsh words, and that threatened to rend my heart to ruin.

“Would you…” The words caught in my throat, tangling beneath an impatient anger and anxious fear. “Just… would you take the damn helmet off?” For a long moment, I thought he might refuse me, but then he eased the bucket from his head and set it quietly on the stone behind him, attention still trained away from me as he pulled a toothpick from his belt to set between his teeth. This… wasn’t far from what I was expecting, but his feigned apathy still flared some wisp of annoyance within me, and that annoyance was far safer than the endless waves of grief eagerly awaiting their chance to drown me the instant I granted them a moment’s notice.

“Last night was…” My voice left me in an impatient growl just broken by a tremble I couldn’t force back, and I realized just how frightened I was that his indifference wasn’t a façade at all. “Amazing.” I finally said, the meaning of the word clashing violently with my clipped tone. Shock robbed the mask from his face, wide eyes finally meeting mine as his lips so slightly fell open. “It was… probably the best sex I’ve ever had. It was raw and hot and real, and I can’t stop thinking about when we’ll get to do it again.” Brows still drawn into the beginnings of a frown, I held his gaze for a beat before pressing. “Your turn.” He seemed honestly taken aback in a way that would have left me laughing if it had been caused by anything else, but I merely waited expectantly.

“It was…” He turned away from me for a moment, studying the beginnings of moss just creeping up the base of the stone as he thought carefully over his words. “Confusing.” Despite everything, that single word drew a huff of laughter from me, wrenching his eyes back to mine once more.

“Yeah,” I agreed lightly, “Yeah, that’s a word for it.” I let the ghost of a smile linger on my lips as he stared at me, and I remembered why it was so easy to lose all thought of consequence and logic beneath the focus of those eyes.

“But it was good.” He added, voice lowering into something dangerous, and I felt my body instantly react; heart beginning to race as fire burned through my chest and down my legs. He absently reached up to snatch the toothpick from his lips, flicking it to some forgotten corner amongst the scattered branches and nests of auburn pine needles surrounding us, and I watched those eyes darken as he took a slow step toward me, felt the flush creep up my neck as my back arched slightly, eagerly, at his approach, head tilting up to hold his gaze as he towered over me. Only then, did he touch me, fingertips tracing so lightly along my jaw, it sent a shiver down my spine, and I didn’t try to hide the way my breath broke beneath it.

I didn’t wait for him, eagerly pushing myself onto my toes to claim those lips, hands greedily dragging over that infuriating armor atop his ribs, his back, fingers slipping beneath the bell to rake into his shoulders in a desperate fight to drag him closer to me. With the same abandon, he kissed me just as fiercely, pressing his body into mine until he’d managed to pin me against that boulder. He tasted of cedar and sweat, and I’d never known anything sweeter.

I couldn’t silence the moan as those fingers tangled into my hair, pulling just enough to tilt my head up more as his body curled around me, crowding me against the unyielding rock pressed into the back of my thighs until the only thing keeping me from falling back was my frantic hold on those broad shoulders. He let a hand trail down my neck, my spine, my hips, shamelessly sliding over the curve of my ass absent even the memory of the reservation that stilled him last night to slip around my thigh before jerking my leg up to wrap around his waist, wrenching a gasp from me that he hungrily devoured from my lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” I whispered on huffed breaths but made no attempt to pull away from him.

“Then stop kissing me.” He retorted, words rumbling in an impatient growl that only fanned the need burning through me.

“Mm-m.” I shook my head just enough to emphasize my refusal but not enough to lose that touch for even a moment, one hand stretching up to claw through his hair in some deep fear that he’d pull away if I didn’t, but he merely let out a deep chuckle and, without warning, lifted me up just enough to set lightly atop the rock. My other leg automatically darted around his waist as well, whimpered moan catching against his lips as he laid me back atop the rough surface, hand purposefully slipping up my neck to cup the back of my head protectively.

“Wa-wait-wait.” I gasped, nearly scowling at the moment of lucidity I so desperately wanted to forget. Instantly, he paused, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes. “Hu… You don’t think Hunter can hear us, do you?” The words broke over panted breaths. Before he could respond, a hum of static sounded from his helmet, flooding my cheeks with a blistering heat even as the haughty man above me merely let out a quiet snort.

“He can put on his bucket.” Crosshair said dismissively, lips pulled into a smirk. I tried to voice some retort, but the words vanished in the violent hunger of his kiss, and I wanted nothing more than to let myself fall into the haze of want and anticipation already beginning to steal over me. But this isn’t what I sought him out for, and the memory of my original intent rekindled that dread.

In nearly the same heartbeat, he pulled back, eyes searching mine for some reason behind what had changed, and I instantly felt even that flare of resolve whither, so desperate for even a few more seconds of the comfort in his touch, the glee of feeling him smile against me, but he was already withdrawing, pulling me upright as he returned to his full height. Waiting. I had to look away from him before I could force the words from lips just on the verge of trembling, chest swelling with a carefully slowed breath.

“I… I need more than ‘good’ and ‘confusing’.” I murmured, and only after purging those words could I face him again, almost shocked to find him studying me with the same quiet as last night.

“What are you asking?” His eyes narrowed slightly, almost reluctantly letting his hands slide away from me, and I belatedly dropped my legs from his waist, straining to find some way to condense my thoughts into speech.

“Was… Is this just sex, Crosshair?” I finally said bluntly, finger tapping absently against my thigh as I forced myself to look at him with the full expectation of finding those lips twisting into a sneer, but I saw only an infectious stillness. He didn’t answer at first, gaze merely studying me with that frightful attentiveness; shoulders pulled back as his left hand curled into a fist before relaxing only to tense once more.

“No.” That single word left me reeling, breath catching in my throat until the air staled, wide eyes locked on his, stunned to find him pointedly holding my gaze even as his jaw tensed in what could only be nervousness. I didn’t realize I’d moved until after dragging him down to me, one hand locked around the lip of his chest plate while the other grasped the back of his neck, and he eagerly yielded beneath my touch, chasing my lips with his, tongue readily caressing mine as soon as I gave the slightest invitation.

“Nothing bigger than a tooka?” I asked, voice already breathy as my hands wandered to his shoulder bells, and my heart jumped at his quiet chuckle.

“Assuming Wrecker doesn’t come find us again.” He mumbled, already nuzzling against my jaw in search of my neck, and I didn’t try to stifle my own laughter before the sound cut off in a sharp gasp at the surge of heat that flared from the first touch of his teeth against that tender skin.

I didn’t feel the rough surface of rock beneath me, nor the worry of allowing myself to be so exposed in the pristine wilderness surrounding us. My body yielded eagerly to his every touch, sounds of pleasure muffled against the swell of muscle framing his broad shoulders, and I found my lips too eager to explore the sensitive skin of his throat, unashamed at what marks I left as his every moan lit my core with want.

The shudder of his breath was a hymn I could listen to for eternity as the gentle haze eased us slowly back into a quiet awareness of reality beyond our touch. Still, I found my hands wandering along the line of a shoulder blade before drifting up his neck, savoring the tiny tremble that stole through him as my fingers slipped back down the divot of his spine. He hadn’t allowed me to take his shirt off, and I again found myself loathing that thin barrier even as I logically understood the reasoning, the difference in how quickly he could readorn his armor with them on should something go wrong.

He hadn’t been shy against hiking my garments clear of skin he yearned to see, to taste, however, and I lazily began dragging the cloth back into place. Before he could begin to pull away, I reached up to ease his lips back to mine for a final kiss driven only by a thoughtless want for his touch rather than some lingering base need, and he responded in kind, arms tightening around me as his chest swelled with a deep, relaxed breath.

In an instant, I knew I’d never have my fill of the way he kissed me, of the unfaltering reverence in that touch regardless how many seconds or hours it lasted, but, when he gradually slowed and pulled away, I forced myself to let him. His eyes rested on mine for a moment longer before leaning down to begin retrieving the abandoned plastoid littering the floor around us.

“The others are going to ask what took us so long.” He stated, pointedly studying his own actions lest he find something in my gaze he didn’t like.

“Hunter knows about last night.” He paused for barely a beat before settling the rambrace about his forearm.

“I imagine he didn’t take it well.”

“I… I don’t know… I kinda just said it and… left.” He let out a sharp scoff.

“That must be why no one came looking for you.” The coy smirk toying with his lips as he turned back to me sent a flush of heat up my cheeks. “He probably hasn’t said a word, yet; just pacing the damn ship until his legs give out.” My brows drew together at the unpleasant image, that familiar dread creeping back up my chest.

“Hey.” He called suddenly. I didn’t realize my gaze had fallen until it snapped back up to his. “He’ll figure it out.” There was a quiet need in those sharp eyes that robbed me of all thought but how I might quell whatever doubt caused that little crease to form on his forehead. He stepped back toward me, tentatively crowding into my space until he seemed to surround me as my head tilted back so I could keep sight of that gorgeous amber.

“Tell me you don’t regret it.” He barely whispered the words forced into a demand lest they sound too akin to a plea. Drawing a deep breath, I let my hands return to his jaw, thumbs tracing invisible lines atop his cheeks.

“I’m worried.” I admitted, voice barely loud enough to hear. “I don’t know how they’ll react… I…” My jaw closed, reluctant to allow my fears even what murmured sounds fluttered just past my lips. “Something like this… I’d be removed if the wrong person found out… From the squad – maybe from the GAR entirely.” For how carefully he kept his expression still, I could see the subtle anger stifling a fear that left me leaning faintly closer to him.

“That’s not going to happen.” He said it absent hesitation or even the aftertaste of doubt, and I had to fight not to blindly trust his ability to morph the future by merely speaking it, but, when I tried to offer even a murmur of response, I couldn’t find breath steady enough to form the words. “Hunter and the others will get over it. They won’t do anything to risk losing you.” That, at least, I couldn’t bring myself to doubt, unless this caused some great rift between them…

Unable to gather those fears into words, I merely let myself kiss him again before releasing him to finish slipping on the last pieces of his kit. I couldn’t name what lingered in the silence between us as we finally began the walk back. The undercurrent of hesitant uncertainty was undeniable, yet there was no tension driving me to break it with frivolous speech. We both felt buried in thoughts and questions still fleeing resolution, but the comfort in knowing I wasn’t alone in that frenzy of doubt and what-if’s was precious.

Everyone seemed to hesitate once we came within sight of the Marauder. Wrecker leaned against the hull, arms locked across his chest, jaw ground taut as he stared blindly at the ground beneath his feet, while Hunter, Tech, and Echo stood in heavy discussion barely yards away. I couldn’t fight my heart back into a steady rhythm as it raced wildly within my chest, eyes darting between each of them in some plea for this tension to yield beneath pleasant greetings; for my fears of discordance settling between them to prove unwarranted.

I nearly jumped at the feeling of Crosshair’s arm looping possessively about my waist, wide eyes darting up to him in shock, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring down his brothers in silent challenge, daring them to speak against what he’d just broadcasted without a single word. And that little smirk touched his lips. That ass – he was flaunting this. Just a little, but it was enough to break the standoff.

“That’s… admittedly not what I was… expecting.” Echo stated, voice halting with confusion and something that wasn’t quite disappointment but held the same taste.

Next Chapter

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rhetusperiander · 14 days

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Just watched Suzume today now that it's out on Netflix and I have a lot of thoughts about Souta and his story of grief and sacrifice that I haven't seen many other people talking about. Maybe because his suffering isn't always expressly stated but is more subtle? Idk. This is going to be long, a little all over the place, and spoilery.

Souta is so quick to help others but rarely does he ever look inwards. In the first scene of him and Suzume closing the door, he keeps telling her to turn back and leave. It doesn't matter that he can't do it alone, it just matters that she isn't in danger. And when the rocks start falling, he's quick to move Suzume out of the way, even if it means injuring his arm. Souta refuses to go to the hospital for his injuries. His grandfather is in the hospital but Souta refuses to go to the hospital for himself. Suzume has to push him into getting help for his wounds.

When Chika loses the oranges she's delivering, it's Souta that jumps into action to grab the net and help her. When Chika asks about it, Suzume says she just has quick reflexes to hide the fact that her magic Souta chair was the one to leap into action, but her saying that shows how instinctual running to help others is for Souta. At Chika's house, he literally spend the whole time facing the wall and speaking to no one. He does it to not draw attention to him (considering the whole magic chair situation), but just imagine that. He jumps to help this girl and is just as quick to sit in the corner alone.

This is also the point where he realizes he cannot eat. (This also feeds into how the movie beautifully uses food and eating together to connect others. From Suzume and Chicka bonding over eating oranges and dinner together, to Suzume's aunt checking on Suzume alone in the car saying that Suzume should eat something as she must be hungry. This is a whole other aspect of the movie that deserves its own analysis and I can't get into everything here, but I will touch on a little of it where it applies.) Earlier in the movie, Suzume offers food to Souta in his chair form and he says he's not hungry, later offering the food right back to her. Suzume on the boat was so concerned for him and how he must be hungry, but it wasn't until much later at Chika's house that Souta even thinks about himself and realizes he must not need to eat as a chair. As Chika and Suzume bond over dinner, Souta realizes that he is physically incapable of doing so.

At least, that is until later at Rumi's bar. In the car with Rumi's kids, Souta is with others again but remains silent. Talking would gain them too much attention and create a lot of questions, but fundamentally it disconnects Souta from those around him and makes him alone. Rumi's kids starts moving him and such but Souta will still not talk or move. It isn't until Rumi's kids are eating and placing food on him that he moves to make sure the kids don't drop anything. He can't act to make himself known but he can act to make sure these kids don't drop their food. He cannot eat, something so fundamental to humans/humanizing and important to forming connections within Suzume's story, and has to stay silent as these kids literally set food on top of him, almost like some kind of sick cosmic joke, but he will still make damn sure these kids don't drop a single bit of their food. Even when Rumi's child drops the food on purpose to test him, Souta moves to catch it. Souta only makes himself know later when Suzume is struggling to care for Rumi's kids. He sees Suzume struggling and goes against his desire to lay low so he can help her, even if that means he'll now be sat on, roughhoused, and yelled at. He wont make himself know for his own sake, but he will for others. At the dinner in Rumi's bar, Suzume makes sure to incorporate Souta in the meal. He can't eat, she makes sure he is still included. She does sit on him during this scene, which is all funny and meme-y, but I think this whole scene is a good juxtaposition to the prior meal scenes. In Chika's house he was left alone in a whole other room, and in the car he was treated as a table and tested, but here Suzume knows him fully and wants him to be included. This is especially shown at the end of the scene, where everyone at the bar dinner takes a photo together and Suzume holds Souta up into the photo.

At the fairground, Souta stops pressing Daijin for answers to save Suzume and help her close the door.

It isn't until what I would say is about the third act that we start truly learning more about who Souta is. Sure, we've know he's a closer, but for a lot of the movie we're never really told much about his life. It isn't until late in the movie that we're told "oh, yeah, btw I have my own apartment in Tokyo and a dream of being a teacher that I've had to neglect for now." This man just will not make any aspect of himself know until it becomes relevant and necessary.

It is also in this part that we see more of his interpersonal relationships. Suzume and him are in similar family situations. Suzume has her aunt and Souta has his grandfather. We know more about Suzume's family history but Souta's is more ambiguous. Souta has a close friend in Serizawa. We know that they're actually close. In his introduction scene he says that he stopped by Souta's place because he was so concerned about Souta missing his test that it made him also fail his test, but in the same intro Serizawa then deflects by saying he actually only stopped by Souta's place because Souta owes him money. We know Serizawa cares, and his care is only further showed by how far he'll go to find Souta, but does Souta know? Between this and how Souta responds to how the downstairs grocery clerks talked about him, Souta seems to me like a guy who genuinely doesn't know that people care about and think about him. And maybe it's just a translation thing, but isn't it weird the very first thing Souta's grandfather brings up is Souta's failure. What a strange word to default to, "failure."

Keep in mind, this whole time, Souta is a chair. He is the chair that Suzume's mother made for Suzume. This whole adventure he takes the form of an object that is the physical representation of *someone else's trauma*. He is quick to help others, even at the expanse of himself. He spends his time and risks his health to be a closer, saving everyone from harms way for nothing in return. A task he is ready and willing to do alone. He is fundamentally so alone, yet cares so much for others. The whole story he lives, dies, and is bound to spend centuries as a keystone in a form not his own, but a form relating to someone else's grief.

His grandfather calls him a sacrifice and says going back for him would disrespect the sacrifice Souta made, but isn't Souta more than that? More that just a sacrifice for others? Suzume is willing to believe so. She tends his wounds and gets him food not even considering if he can eat, just that he might be hungry. She is so kind, considerate, and makes so many sacrifices and takes so many risks for others too. She is willing to travel so far to bring him back to life. When she pulls him back to life, she pulls him back as he truly is, his own person in his own form.

They both wanted to die, now they both want to live.

Like I said at the very start, I feel like a lot of Souta's story of grief and pain is kept more subtle and implied instead of directly stated. It's shown in how much he is willing to do for others and not for himself.

#suzume #suzume no tojimari #souta munakata #suzume iwato #are you all seeing my vision?#this is probably the longest thing I've ever posted #I don't usually ever share analysis like this #mine

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