BLUME DADDY

"i... don't know," he admits, taking the seat offered to him. before he can think about it, his face is in his hands. "i think i'm hearing things again. i just didn't want to be alone."

"You think, huh? Well, sounds like it could be worse." Gim says, putting a kettle on the stove and wondering if he still had ice cream in the freezer. "So, is it one of those things where when it's quiet, you think you hear things, or is it even when you have the tv or the radio on?"

a relieved smile breaks his otherwise tense expression. "...i left my bag in the car," he admits. the thought is easy to follow, although not relevant as far as gim is concerned. he's always worried he won't be welcome back, even when he knows it isn't true. old habits die hard. "i didn't want you to think i only came over for laundry."

"Of course not. You better also show up for my meat loaf," Gim said easily, not concerned. He'd rather Alan stop by to wash clothes than wear them dirty, and for him to eat than go hungry. He wouldn't mind if Alan stayed, but Gim knew he couldn't make him. "Get your bag and I'll get you some food, then we can catch up. You can tell me about work and anything else you've been up to."

"i..." sorry clings to the tip of his tongue, but alan can't bring himself to say it. rather, he knows better. "i was just wondering if i could maybe stay here. for the night. just in case?"

"Alan." That one word held an entire sentence as Gim tilted his head at Alan. You can always stay here and you can stay for a week and have you ate? all lurked inside that tone, but he didn't ask, instead just looking around Alan. "Where's your clothes for me to wash?"

"...i didn't know where else to go." his head throbs like a nuclear bomb has been contained in his skull, panic closing in just behind it. pride is so far gone now, it's laughable. "...i need your help."

"What happened?" Details weren't necessary for him to agree to help - This was his son and Gim felt so relieved and proud that Leon, his little junebug, knew he could come to him, but it was easier to figure out the solution when he knew the problem. "Come on, sit down."

"something like that," she agrees, nodding. more important than any zoo animal, though—well, in her immediate vicinity anyway—is the man bordering on being crushed by the block of metal and gadgets in front of her. thankfully, he's easier to convince of his error than most other people that hear of the machine's fickle nature. "i wouldn't know that there's any spot that makes it give you free stuff," she admits, shaking her hear. "i just know that someone else broke a leg getting squished under it. ever since, we have to be a little careful."

"Well, that was a while back, and I imagine those things were a lot less complicated than they are today. But that's the way of technology, isn't it? People come up with ways to cheat, so then creators have to get smarter about it, and that's how things improve." Gim pointed out, giving the machine a few friendly pats on the side as if to thank it for not acting up any further. "I didn't realize your vending machine was so fierce, it's got it's own personality. Does it have a name to go along with that?" He asked, completely serious since he knew how easily people liked to bestow humanity on other things.

it feels like he's trying to inhale a pin cushion, that each time he swallows more and more needles stick in his throat. eventually, he gets enough down to speak. he's been expecting a lot of things, but gentle touch isn't one of them. he's still... getting used to that one. it still stops him dead, breathless, like he's been shot point blank. gim's tone softens the shock to his system, at least. "thank you," he mumbles, trying to shake the neglected shelter dog out of his expression. it's not his parents' fault things ended up turning out that way... it's his. "i just—it's been... a lot," he chokes out, trying to keep from thinking about how stupid he must sound. he's the one who showed up, after all. that's on him, too. "uh, is it okay if i, uh..." his face feels hot even just asking. the audacity of it. "you know, come back?" after a beat, he even attempts a, "soon?"

Nodding, Gim had to agree that it was a lot, but didn't want to say so, didn't want to give off the impression that it was too much, and wondered if he could get away with a hug. maybe not yet. "Come back whenever you're ready, okay? It's a lot for you, that's okay. I'll be here." Just hopefully he didn't come back later that day because Gim already knew what he'd do. He'd sit, he'd breathe, he'd get a drink, then he'd go to John. But after that, he was just as lost as his son.

He listened carefully as Gim's tone shifted to one a bit more softer, irritated that it was HIS son that warranted this creeping around on eggshells. How did he end up with offspring that couldn't even pay his own damn phone bill? John couldn't help but scoff a little, suddenly itching to light one of the cigarettes weighing down his breast pocket, and tried to distract himself by imagining Gim baking. "His own place, huh," he grunted after a moment, flatly, glanced down at his boots. "Saw him briefly, couple weeks after his birthday. You think he looks skinny?"

"Skinnier than he used to be, but not any skinnier than the last time I saw him." At least he seemed skinnier than when he was with John - and Gim carefully didn't think of it as when Alan was home, because he didn't think Alan would appreciate it. John might not appreciate his care, either, but neither of them were privy to his thoughts, so what did it matter? "Not starving skinny. I wouldn't let that happen and you know it, and besides - he and Gen are talking again, so she checks in on him." One way or another, Alan was going to end up with food and access to basic care, no matter how stubborn Weavers tended to be.

as gim reminisces, leon's eyes can't help but shift down toward his drink, his own hands cupping the mug in the same way he imagines his mother's did. his are bigger, permanently stained, but still so similar. that's why she did that, isn't it? it kept her hands warm. they were cold otherwise. he can remember her complaining about it. dad—michael—would always—he sucks in a sharp breath, which with a mouthful of tea just leaves him hacking and coughing. "i'm sorry," he croaks, once he's coughed up enough to get a breath in edgewise. it feels like just as much a waste of air. there he goes apologizing for himself again. he just doesn't know what else to do. "i shouldn't—" shaking his head, leon is quick to pull himself up to his feet. "i shouldn't be bringing this all back for you." still wheezing, "i should go."

Standing along with him, Gim shook his head. "You're okay." Gim repeated, soft, but insisted. "If you want to go, that's okay, you know where to find me, but you don't have to." But it had been a lot, he knew it. He couldn't even begin to imagine how strange hearing about Michael and Belinda happened to be, and truthfully, Gim wasn't sure how he felt about talking about them, wasn't sure how he would feel once the moment was over because as soon as that door closed and he was back alone in the house, Gim would need to process it all.

Dante smiles, a rare thing that he finds himself doing in front of Gim more and more even with a chance meeting, and sends a text to a resident—that he'll be gone on lunch. He makes his way into a nice sedan, unlocking it as they approach, and being opening the door for Gim. It was the least that he could do after he'd seen him embarrasingly drunk as they'd first met. "I know some good Italian somewhere near," he says, trying to race through his memory banks of where he'd seen it. "You up for it?"

"Still a gentleman," Gim says with a laugh as he climbs in, nodding. "Works for me. Surprise me." Although it's hard to surprise someone that's been living in the same place for over thirty years and while Gim knows the place they eventually pull up to, that doesn't make it a bad choice. "This place has some of the best breadsticks around. Well, not sure if it's the bread as much as the dipping sauce, that olive oil with all the butter and garlic. Might not be the healthiest thing in the world, but indulging is good for the soul."

He wandered away from the rack and into an open aisle, slipped his hands into the pockets of his light jacket. It was obvious he'd been distracted away from their mission, now content to stand and wait as if Gim was shopping for himself. "Too bad you don't do anything interesting," John grunted, more of his beef jerky dry humor. There was a pause before his next question, and when he spoke again it was quieter. "... Anything from Alan?"

"Nah, I much prefer to stand back and watch what you're getting into. More fun." Gim teased without skipping a beat, looking back over his shoulder to grin at him. It softened at John's next question, and Gim turned his back to the shoe display, making sure that John had his full attention. "Some. He hasn't needed help with his phone bill in a bit, so that's something. He wants to save up and get his own place. I made him a cake for his birthday this year, and I didn't even burn anything." Gen was the baker, not him, but he tried. "Have you seen him lately?"

"you don't have to convince me. i'd go crazy if i didn't get a little treat every now and again." what else is she supposed to do when she gets stressed? talk about it? that's always so burdensome... better to just go and get some fries or a snickers bar or something. "you know, sometimes i—oh, wait! i wouldn't, um, lean on it like that. the machine. sometimes when you do that it gets unbalanced!"

"What was it they used to say on the internet? Something about zoo animals needing enrichment in their enclosures? That's true for people, too." And not just with food, but Gim should have known better than to start switching into rambling professor mode and making himself comfortable, the distressed noise of the vending machine behind him proof of that. "Whoops, sorry about that." He apologized to the machine as he straightened back up, patting it on the side like you might a choking human. "You know, I knew a guy once who store that he knew where to hit one of these things to make it pop out free granola. Never saw him do it, though."

"everything in moderation, right?" her mother had gone through a fair amount of stages herself, cutting out sugar and dairy and gluten and fats and whatever else she could squeeze out of the food pyramid. shari had never followed suit, but many of the same insecurities plagued her life. she, as always, stays politely neutral on the subject. "i'd rather always have dessert than never have dessert, i think."

"Oh, you and me both. Never getting to have dessert is a little extreme to me, don't you think? We're all soft creatures, we need enrichment! It's important to spoil ourselves with little treats sometimes, it helps keep up our mood and encourages us to keep going. I firmly believe that we as a species would go further if sometimes we treated ourselves like toddlers," Gim admitted, getting distracted from what he was doing for a moment until he tried to lean against the vending machine and felt buttons give way beneath his weight.

leon's own gaze shifts to the side, gears turning in his head. it's not as if he doesn't remember his parents, but his idea of them at ten years old—let alone earlier—is surely not going to be true to life. they were his parents, even if not every decision they had made was right. of course he had idolized them right up until the end. but who were they as people? he doesn't have the slightest clue. everyone else that knows, as far as he assumes, would never dream of telling him. or talking to him at all, for that matter. "well, what version did you get?" he asks, leaning forward. it's like a mirror. he doesn't notice. it feels like he's on the cusp of something, maybe excitement, and in that moment he forgets to slump. he doesn't round his shoulders. he lets himself exist for as long as it takes that dog at his ankles to herd him back into place. he pulls back away from gim, back against his chair, cup back up to his lips. "i mean," he starts, a little quieter this time; "when you think about them, what really stands out to you?"

"When I think about Belinda, the first thing I think about is the little smile she'd have at the corner of her mouth, and how it seemed like she always had a warm drink in her hands. She'd cup it in her palms and they always felt so warm because of that. And her hair, she kept it pinned up all the time and then at night, sometimes she'd get one of us to help her take it down. And as far as Michael, I think about his hands. He used to wear rings and if you paid attention, you'd see him start twisting them around his fingers. You always did better to pay attention to what Michael did instead of what he said."

"like nutter butters? my mom never let us—me—get those. too much sugar. these were the best we got outside of holidays." and most of that just ended up coming from other people. even so, she would give anything to go back. but that's not something she wants to think about right now, especially when as far as she can tell, it's just her and gim. "i don't know if i'd call myself a big fan, but, um... i like it. not so much just by itself, but yeah. with other things." but really, how many people eat peanut butter on its own anyway? "are you more into chocolate, then?"

Us. That was interesting, but Gim wasn't one to pry. Well, maybe a little, but he recognized that trait. He saw it in Gen, talking about someone before remembering they weren't there. Or maybe he was imagining things and there was some kind of rule that if Shari couldn't have something because of health reasons, no one else could, either. "Oh, well, I have a bit of a sweet tooth myself. Can't seem to resist a good dessert, although I keep having people tell me it's not good for my health. Still, better than some things." Like Anna and her smoking, for example.