roneal | (no subject)

While he'd like to hold on for a bit longer, he doesn't want to upset the dog. Reluctantly, he releases his grip. One hand stays in the dog's neck, though, still petting him. He refuses to look at Jade.

"A week? You're going to stay with us for an entire week, Irvin? Yes?" Dogs are easier to talk to and Irvin is no exception. "We'll play together lots!"

It's easy to see he's being ignored. Perhaps he should say something about it, but he doesn't want to fight with a dog for attention; that's just demeaning and reminds him entirely too much of Peony and his pets. Besides, Shinjirou had completed his chores for the day. His time now is his own.

"I left some toys for him at the front door. Feel free to use them; you'll be responsible for looking after Irvin." He steps closer, intending to slip past them and out of the bedroom. "I'd like to have dinner at seven, but other than that, you're free for the night."

Free for the night. That does get his attention and he glances up. Brows furrowed, he makes sure to keep petting Irvin. He's wary of Jade, not of the dog, after all. No need to scare him. That's what he tells himself, knowing without the support of the touch, he would be the one freaking out, not Irvin.

"Why." First Jade is giving him a chance to flee and now he's giving him a dog to take care of and play with. He hasn't done anything that should earn him either of the two. Getting a bed is good enough. So ... this must lead up to something different.

Jade stops mid-step, turning around to glance at Shinjirou. "I usually have dinner at seven," he says, feigning ignorance. "The last two days were an aberration. I'm sure you understand why."

His blatant sidestepping of the issue also serves as a warning: Shinjirou isn't meant to question his commands and the reasoning behind them, much less demand an explanation. Jade has never been transparent and he isn't about to start now, especially not to his slave.

Now that he's not drunk, not high on hormones, it's surprisingly easy to lift his head higher and snap, "No." He holds Jade's gaze, jaw clenched. Though a few seconds are enough to make his stomach turn, he withstands the urge to apologize and avert his eyes, sitting up straight.

There's too much he doesn't understand and the bits he does get, he can't accept just like that.

This was bound to come sooner or later. Jade meets his gaze steadily, impassive. It's not often he has someone seriously confront him, and usually his approach is to concede ground - arguing is a waste of effort, and there's precious little he feels strongly enough about to fight for. This is obviously not an option here.

But he knows how to be diplomatic. Shinjirou had decided to stay; now it's simply a matter of convincing him he made the right choice. "Is something the matter?"

"No, just asking you a question and not getting a proper answer, is all." He's getting into the sort of mood where he'd rather punch than talk, he can feel it. Heartbeat speeding up, his head suddenly light, heat radiating off his skin, muscles in his back tensing -- breathe, he thinks.

He gets up, slowly, leaving enough distance between him and Jade that the chain isn't within his immediate reach. Getting into a fight with a dog between them isn't a good idea, but he can't bow down now. Either that fire is going to be extinguished, or it's going to burn him down.

Violence isn't far off, he can feel it. Jade shifts his stance subtly, standing light on his feet, ready to dodge. Fistfights are not his forte, but he's learnt a few tricks over the years.

He's hoping it won't come to blows, however.

"It's making you angry, I see." His voice is still steady, his expression calm. "You told me you couldn't control yourself when angry. Should I be afraid?"

No. No one should have to be afraid of him. He doesn't want that, he doesn't want to give anyone a reason to be afraid. It happens, again and again, and on the streets it might have saved him more than once. His fingers flex as he tries not to clench them into a fist.

"Shut up." He takes another step back. Just to be safe. If anything, he doesn't want to hurt Irvin accidentally. None of this is the dog's fault. "Shut the fuck up."

He stands his ground, observing Shinjirou's actions, trying to gauge where he would land his first blow. If he would. He seems to be holding himself back, stepping away instead of trying to crowd into Jade's personal space. There's also the dog in between them - surely Shinjirou wouldn't hurt something he had been hugging and cooing over just a few minutes ago?

For a moment, Jade is quiet, wondering if he should back down peacefully. But he can't just follow Shinjirou's commands; that would cause him to be seen as weak, and he can't afford that.

"I shouldn't have to compensate for your deficiencies," Jade says coolly. This situation will have to be resolved someday; it might as well be today, when he hasn't invested as much time and effort into Shinjirou as he could have.

He's still hoping that this could be resolved peacefully. Perhaps if he turns Shinjirou's anger and loathing against himself...

"Deficiencies?" He stiffens, instinctively seeking the physical support of the wall. The nearest corner is still too far away to press into, unfortunately. There's too much room all around him, nothing to ground him. His breathing exercise fails and he inhales in sharp bursts.

It's the voice in the back of his head that's making him the angriest: kneel, apologize, submit. He growls, staring back with his hackles raised. "Piss off. You don't know anything about me."

Judging by the erratic way he's breathing, Shinjirou is really beginning to lose control now. The growling only confirms it. He looks like a cornered animal, and Jade has to wonder if he's afraid as well as angry. He hopes so.

"I know plenty." More than Shinjirou thinks, probably, but he doesn't see the need to reveal the fact he's been digging into his history. "You've told me plenty, and your behaviour now only confirms it."

He takes a step forward. "You're quite the hazard to those around you, aren't you?"

"No, it doesn't." Jade taking a step closer leads to Shinjirou taking another step back. One side pressed against the wall, he glances away for a second. A mistake he tries to make up for by glaring at Jade. This isn't confirming anything; he knows it confirms everything.

His voice cracks. "I'm not a hazard, I'm just." Scared. Confused. And he has no fucking clue how to deal with it other than lash out. He knows that. It sucks, he hates it, but as long as he isn't around people, everyone is safe. Shit, he should have left. Live in the woods by himself. He grabs for the closest piece of furniture and throws it to the ground.

"Fuck off!"

It's not something breakable, thankfully, but it makes a heavy thud as it lands on the floor. Irvin jumps and growls, backing away. Jade doesn't even blink.

"You're doing an excellent job of proving my point." Shinjirou could have just as easily thrown that at him, Jade realizes. It seems his desire to not cause harm trumps even his anger. But just how long can he hold on to that tenuous control? "You're dangerous. You need to be restrained."

"What, and you're going to be the one restraining me? Make me safe to be around?" Shinjirou tries his very best to keep the hope and desire from seeping into his voice. He fails, spectacularly, pitch higher. Breathless, he stumbles farther back until he finally, finally reaches the corner.

It's solid and he lets himself be swallowed up in that feeling. Why can't he be like that? Jade's capable of it. Every order bringing relief, no need to figure out what's right or wrong. It's becoming exhausting to keep his aggressive posture up, but he's not about to give up just yet.

"Why not?"

After a quick glance to make sure there are no throwable items within Shinjirou's reach, Jade approaches, slow and careful. He comes to a stop a few paces away from Shinjirou, tension in every muscle of his body. Shinjirou is close to giving up, it seems, but it's possible he'll have one final outburst.

"Someone has to. You're clearly incapable of controlling yourself." It's not entirely true, but it's something Shinjirou believes, so Jade relentlessly preys on it. "Continuing the way you've been, it's only a matter of time before you cause irreparable harm."

Irreparable harm. It's already happened. His chest expands with another deep breath he takes in an attempt to calm himself down. Too late. The texture of the wall leaves imprints on his skin as he shoves himself deeper into the corner.

He can't let it happen again.

Jade is here, payed for him even, offered to help. As long as there's someone between him and other people, protecting them by keeping him down, he could live on. Be useful in a twisted way, too. He licks his lips. Just drop onto your knees and everything will be okay.

"Try me," he says instead.

He's weakening. It's written clearly in the way he tries and fails to regulate his breathing, the way he cringes against the wall, the long pause before he speaks.

It's not what Jade wants to hear. He lets silence settle over the two of them, heavy and stifling, as he wonders whether or not to take another risk. Then he remembers that note of breathless desire in Shinjirou's voice.

Slowly, deliberately, he turns his back in Shinjirou and walks away. "Come, Irvin," he says, and the dog rises to his feet immediately. "Heel."

Is Jade leaving again? Just like that? Frowning, Shinjirou glances at Irvin -- obeying Jade happily, showing just how easy it can be -- and back at Jade. He wants that, too. His mouth is dry and he belatedly notices he hasn't had any water yet. This match is bound to be a loss for him.

"Tch. You're just inviting an attack now." Why.

"Perhaps so." He leans down to give Irvin a quick scratch, but doesn't stop walking. "You're dangerous to keep around; you've proven that very thoroughly." There's a note of foreboding in his tone. It's subtle, but present all the same, especially when contrasted against his earlier calmness. "But I suggest you save your strength."

"For what?" This isn't good. Jade has a plan and Shinjirou no idea what kind of plan it is, only that he doesn't want to be left alone again. Which isn't helping. He pushes himself off the wall, then shuffles closer.

"Tell me."

The sound of movement behind him makes him pause briefly, before he reminds himself that Shinjirou isn't the type to launch a sudden attack, especially now that he's calmer. He continues walking. By now, his destination is obvious: the telephone.

"I'm letting you go. I don't see much point in keeping someone so unwilling to change. Assuming all goes well, someone will take you back to the market tomorrow." He pauses. "Unless you'd rather be turned out into the streets now?"

His blood runs cold. He should be excited. It's a good reason for a celebration and Jade's giving him the option to just go back to his life as it used to be. He's sweating, stomach churning. No, he can't go back, he can't forget and ignore this.

Shivering, he walks up to Irvin and gets down on all fours beside the dog. His eyes are set on the ground, head hanging low. He can't talk anymore, he's choking on his own tongue. This is his place, this is where he belongs. No better than a dog.

But ... dogs are good. They can be trained, they can make their owners happy. He releases a hitched breath. It's Jade's decision, like everything else. To demand that he should listen to Shinjirou's begging now -- don't do it, keep me -- would just be another mistake.

He keeps his mouth and eyes shut, waiting.

Silently, he watches Shinjirou shudder and prostrate himself, waiting to see if he's about to speak. As the seconds trickle by and Shinjirou continues to kneel, his begging wordless but no less obvious despite that, Jade allows himself to feel triumph. Shinjirou had finally submitted to him, in full faculty of reason. It's a turning point, and a vital one, one there was no going back from.

Nevertheless, his victory is tainted by a hint of unease - this is a heavy responsibility, he's being entrusted with the keeping of Shinjirou's body and his mind. But Jade pushes his feelings aside. Neither of them have any choice; he'll simply have to do the best he can.

"Go back to the bedroom," he says at last, his voice carefully devoid of any emotion. "Face the wall, and cross your hands together above your head."

Not once does he look up -- but he gives a quick bow of his head before he returns to the bedroom. His heart has climbed up into his throat successfully, its beat droning in on his brain. He stands, hands crossed over his head, fingertips splayed out. Leaving himself open, from head to toe.

He makes no assumptions about what's going to happen next. Whatever it is, it's going to be the right choice for him. His mind empties, is filled with the simple texture of the wall, his breath shallow but evening out again. This is good. Sickly sweet warmth fills his stomach, every cell, because this is as much giving up as it is giving in.

There's nothing to hide behind. No way to pretend later he wasn't sober, wasn't in a right state of mind. Fully awake and having spent hours thinking about the situation, and he's come to this conclusion.