#you could have humiliated him publicly in many MANY other ways bc he has pretty awful things

[fugitoidkry]

Having the target of the 'allegedly' criticism against him saying 'it is homophobic what the fuck is wrong with you people' when said character is depicted as an abuser and only him saying that, takes all the credibility of his words that it was, in fact, fucked up especially when in contrast you have all the other characters cheering up and being happy because the narrative seems to approve that outing as a way of vengeance is justified because he deserves it for being a piece of shit.

[honey-hippie-harper]

through the burning shell

Hello it’s been 84 years.

This is fun :): I wrote this as a Christmas present for @obsidianfr3sk (YES DAWNIE KEEP POSTING YOU CHRISTMAS FICS DURING MARCH. YOU GO GIRL) and it’s a sequel to my other fic “through the bleeding shell” where I basically try to save Simon and Hugh from the queerbaiting MM turned them into by adding a certain degree of complexity to their relationship. This is a story about gays, grief and a dead friend + Simon defending Nova bc I don’t roll with Supernova. Hence, I am not morally obligated to obey canon <3

Anyway afgdhjafghsj i don’t think you need to read the first part to understand this, and I hope you like it <3. I don’t want to give much away, but this sort of turned into a collaboration that got out of control and @obsidianfr3sk might write a third part in the future ;)

through the burning shell

“There have been rumors that the public revealing of Agent N is to include a public execution as well.”

Being all together, right there, Simon saw Hugh narrowing his eyes, staring directly at Genissa Clark, formerly Frostbite, now neutralized, along with the rest of her team.

Well.

Almost all of them.

“That’s true.” Hugh started, and Simon couldn’t help but think he shouldn’t have answered. A part of him was getting a pretty bad feeling from this. “For his crimes against humanity, Ace Anarchy has been sentenced to death.”

“Why stop there?” Said Genissa. “I would argue that his accomplices deserve the same fate.”

The same fate.

His brain struggled to make a connection between that sentence and the one Hugh had uttered. At first, he didn’t understand. A couple of fast seconds later, Simon realized that, by saying “fate”, she was referencing something.

She was referencing, more specifically, Ace Anarchy’s sentence.

A death sentence.

Accomplices.

The Anarchists.

“Nightmare deserves the same fate.” Nova deserves the same fate. “Nightmare must die… And I want to be the one to do it.”

Nova must die.

And I want to be the one to do it.

A child killing another child, publicly, with the Renegades’ permission.

A child they had taken under their wing, Genissa Clark that is, killing another child, who had been in Simon’s house, who had touched Adrian’s heart, and who had made bad choices but was still a person. The official version of the events said she had stabbed Max, and Danna claimed she was Nightmare, but they hadn’t taken any declarations or anything, so that story might as well just change.

Simon couldn’t help but feel she didn’t deserve to die.

Maybe because she actually didn’t. It didn’t feel fair.

One thing was sentencing Ace Anarchy, the man who had lifted an entire city, leaving a ridiculously huge number of deaths in the process, who had stolen, broken and burned, who had killed a man (the mayor) and his pregnant wife, who had killed his own brother, sister-in-law and possibly his two nieces...and another, pretty different thing was to allow this 19 year old girl kill a 16 year old one, who had some crimes that could put her into jail for like 3 or 5 years, but weren’t horrible enough to give her a death sentence. She was a minor. She wasn’t yet beyond repair…

And if she was to be executed, then she was still a minor. She didn’t deserve to be humiliated like that. She didn’t deserve her life to be taken away with so little dignity.

Not by Genissa Clark.

Not like that.

And, stars, please, not now.

Not right now.

It was unthinkable, it was barbaric, it was animal, it was almost as if…

A quiet chuckle.

A quiet chuckle that, suddenly, interrupted his train of thought and, with all the pain in his heart, he was able to recognize in a blink.

Evander was chuckling.

Genissa Clark, nonchalantly, was blackmailing them. She was trading her silence for the legal permission to kill someone, in front of a crowded arena. And Evander was chuckling.

Genissa Clark wanted to murder Nova, and Evander was chuckling.

“Is that all it will take to quit their complaining?”

What else did he want?

“Works for me.”

Simon almost flinched to the audacity. To the severity of the implication. To the way he was saying it. So smug. So relaxed, so….Evander it almost made Simon mad.

That was so Evander lately.

Because, lately, Evander didn’t understand anything. Not even because he had a pregnant wife waiting for him at home. There was life inside that woman. Life that had come from him.

How couldn’t he understand?

How could somebody be so cold?

“These are lives we’re discussing.” Simon reminded him, shooting a look in his direction.

“Villains’ lives.” Evander responded. “Nightmare doesn’t deserve mercy any more than Ace Anarchy does. She was the one who neutralized them, so it seems fair to me.”

Villains’ lives were still lives.

Nova was a person.

Nova was...Nightmare, but before Nightmare, she was Nova, and Hugh and him had met her personally. Adrian had met her personally.

And, besides, with this logic, then all the Renegades were to be executed.

After all, Agent N was meant to be used by Renegades. They were the ones who were planning to neutralize people when they felt threatened. But when Nightmare did it, then she immediately deserved the death penalty.

Hugh would understand that. Everyone would understand that, just like Simon did.

They had to understand it.

Hugh had to understand it.

-.-

Yet, he didn’t.

Some time ago, Hugh had pledged to understand. Not directly per se, but he had pledged it in the name of his cause.

He promised he would understand.

And then, when he needed to understand the most, he didn’t.

He said he would.

Then he fucking didn’t.

“How can we run a city, much less an entire world, if we’re busy dealing with every trivial bit of bureaucratic nonsense that comes up?” He said.

“This solves two problems at once.” He said.

And he said that to Adrian’s, their son, face. Their son, who was just trying to help, by questioning how morally correct was to do something like that, just like Tamaya, Kasumi and himself had done, being ignored in the process.

“We need that right now. And we need to be united in this decision.”

“And why’s that, exactly?” Adrian asked. “Do we not want the world to know this is actually a dictatorship?”

In that moment, Simon knew Adrian had never spoken to Hugh like that. He had always been a pretty calm kid, who liked to question their decisions sometimes because, as a Renegade himself, of course he would feel uncomfortable or have doubts sometimes. But never had he called Hugh out. Not in that tone. Not with that entire bottle of venom flowing out of his mouth, melting his teeth, and mixing with his boiling blood.

Simon felt unable to tell him to stop, after his own voice had been ignored, and Hugh pretended Evander was the only one who mattered in the team. And it wasn’t that Evander didn’t matter.

It was just that he was wrong.

Besides, harsh as that sounded, Simon still couldn’t believe that those stinky, rotting, putrid, nauseating words had come from Hugh’s mouth. His Hugh. The man he had decided to marry, because he loved him so, so much, for him had been able to see him even when he was invisible. Literally.

Right in front of his eyes, Hugh morphed into a caricaturesque villain. His hands, which Simon had held so many times, were suddenly covered in both dry and fresh blood, red as an apple, but smelling like death.

Death.

The same death that was living like a parasite inside of his eyes, the only place that other people could harm. And the parasite was traveling through his system, all the way to his brain, spinning it around like a mirrorball, and eating from it like he was nothing.

Hugh’s hands were tied, too, and the strings were made of rope, a material he could easily tear apart, but seemed to have forgotten about that.

He was like a puppet, as the press, as society, and as tons and tons of eyes pulled from the ropes.

And nobody knew how to free him, not even himself.

“Do we not want the world to know this is actually a dictatorship?”

Adrian’s voice haunted him for days. The way in which he said that haunted him for days, and after a while, Simon just accepted he wouldn’t be able to get rid of it. It had become another one of the wounds he carried, open and bleeding, through life. The worst part of it all, was that Simon knew Adrian was right. That, at this point, everyone but Hugh, Evander and Genissa Clark were right.

But if he knew where had they gone wrong, and if he knew he didn’t agree with this monstrosity...why did it hurt so much?

How did you speak to a person who didn’t want to listen?

And, most importantly: Where were you supposed to get the courage to do it from?

 -.-

 Nova had spent seventeen days in Cragmoor Penitentiary when Adrian said he wanted to see her. He had been so mad at her, that it caught Simon off guard.

Not that he wasn’t able to understand it.

Adrian had had a couple of girlfriends and boyfriends throughout his life but, from what Simon could see, Nova was by far the one he had been the most serious about, to the point it almost seemed she was the one who would stay. Simon would’ve wanted to see his partner too, no matter how mad he was at said partner, if he knew they had been sentenced to death.

As fast as they could, knowing they were facing an authority (Adrian had asked them to be with him in the room), the wardens brought her right away, in a matter of minutes.

Through the glass, Simon saw her, on the metal platform, with her arms and legs being held, tightly, by braces, which were equally made of metal. For the look in her eye, Simon could almost hear her desperate begs for her visitor not to be Adrian. Yet, he had been, and he wasn’t alone, which, if anything, only made it worse.

Simon, from his part, was staring at two different glasses at the time. The one that divided them from Nova, and Adrian’s glasses, which revealed the pain he was penetrating Nova’s soul with, and also the rage he was entitled to feel.

But Nova looked small.

She, in fact, looked as small as she actually was.

She was almost a kid. She hadn’t yet started living. Yet, she was locked up here, and would only be taken out to be killed.

Nova’s body was shaking, just like Adrian’s. Her chin was quivering so much it almost seemed like she was cold, and Simon felt a twinge in his stomach. He felt nauseous and dizzy. And so evil and so guilty.

For some reason, he pictured a child, because Nova had been a younger child once, full of joy and innocence.

 He pictured a child. Just like that.

 Maybe she was wearing pigtails, had a gap between two of her teeth, and bruised legs, because she liked to play outside with her friends. Maybe, before she became Nightmare, she had something else to hold on to. Maybe she, like many people out there,  had hoped for the Renegades to come, and when they didn’t do it, something became numb, and cold, and she started freezing to death, just like she would remain freezing, suspended in History, as the interrupted life who was the proof the Renegades had become the one thing they promised they would never be.

And Simon didn’t want to be part of that, yet he was still here.

He was still here, thinking about how fortunate he was that Nova wasn’t staring back at him, but at Adrian instead, as selfish as that might’ve sounded.

Simon felt he had lost the right to look her in the eye, having been the one who promised her, on several occasions, that she could look into theirs.

With each one of his limbs becoming tense, Simon took a deep breath. His mouth tasted like bile, and his whole body was pounding along with this heart. It felt like one of those times when you were almost a hundred percent sure you were having a heart attack, despite knowing that, if that was the case, you would already be on the floor crying for help.

Next thing he felt was the sudden and strong urge to speak.

He would’ve liked to talk to Nova, but through this glass, she couldn’t hear anything.

Besides, Simon knew that this moment wasn’t about him, or Hugh. They were involved in it. They were carrying it in their backs like a cross, but it wasn’t about them. It was about Nova and Adrian. There was glass between the two. They could press their hands together through it, but they couldn’t touch the other’s skin. They couldn’t feel the air the other breathed in the short distance. They couldn’t kiss. It was scary. It was sad. And it wasn’t awfully familiar.

But it wasn’t about Simon or Hugh.

“Do you need some privacy?” Simon asked, perhaps to both of them, knowing one wouldn’t be able to hear him, even if she tried.

In response, Adrian turned his gaze away from Nova, staring at Simon instead, nodding.

“I think that would be nice.”

Before Simon could say anything else, Hugh reached for his son’s shoulder, and once he touched it, he caressed the fabric, and the skin beneath the fabric, briefly.

“We’ll be in the lobby.”

Adrian nodded again and then, after gulping, he said:

“I love you, okay?”

The weird thing was, he didn’t look them in the eye for much. He did, but he turned his gaze away pretty fast, barely leaving time to process his own words. For that reason, nor Hugh or him responded.

They left right after that, leaving Adrian alone inside the room.

With Nova, but alone.

 -.-

They dropped Adrian at the hospital once they left Cragmoon. There was barely any sound throughout the whole ride, except when Hugh asked if they wanted something from the store, and when they said goodbye to Adrian.

Obviously, Adrian couldn’t get close to Max. Not if he wanted to avoid being neutralized by him, but sometimes, according to Adrian himself, he liked to stay in the waiting room, and help the staff with whatever they needed, for he liked Max to know he came to visit often, and that he wasn’t alone, even if he couldn’t touch, or be in the same room with him. So they just allowed him to stay in the hospital as much as he needed. After all, it’s not like he was hurting anybody.

After that, everything was silent, all the way home, because, instead of driving towards the Headquarters, Hugh drove towards the mansion, leaving Tamaya in charge, under the excuse they would take a two hour break to have lunch together at home. She wasn’t so happy about it, but agreed anyway, because it’s not like Hugh had given her an option in the first place. He had just notified her. At this point, Hugh’s volume was getting the tiniest bit loud.  And Simon wasn’t talking about his voice.

Upon arriving into the house, Hugh threw the keys by the entrance’s table and proceeded to walk all the way towards the living room, to lay on the couch, one arm covering his eyes, without even taking his costume off. He didn’t have a reason to, because they were supposed to be back at the Headquarters in two hours and, besides, the elephant in the room was making it cold. Maybe he felt his armor would protect him from what they were doing, and from what they were still doing.

Sadly, the fabric of Simon’s costume wasn’t as warm. And as he took his mask off and placed it next to keys, he felt nothing but cold wind. He was back again at being Simon, and Simon only, without anything protecting him, in the same room as the husband who rarely ever kissed him anymore.

There was an elephant in the room, and it was killing both of them, though Hugh looked like he was already dead.

Simon tried not to pay attention to him, but when he was crossing to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but ask, in an unintentionally harsh tone:

“Are we going to have lunch or did you just want to make Tamaya more stressed?”

Hugh lowered his arm, staring at him with an arched eyebrow, lifting his neck just a little, to have a clearer view. Simon was starting to feel bad for having snapped at him, but not enough to take it back.

Sometimes you had to do the right thing, and sometimes the right thing was not taking it back.

His husband, from his part, looked rather confused, as if he couldn’t recognize the person in front of him.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked.

The question caught him off guard.

Was he okay? Simon wasn’t sure, nor did he want to answer. In times like these, Hugh wanted people to answer him what he wanted to hear and, sadly, this time Simon didn’t have any answer he would like.

“Did you take your pills, Si?”

Something inside of his body turned into a tight knot, and Simon turned his gaze towards him, in a violent act. He frowned so deeply he felt his skin itching, and though he knew that, under normal circumstances, he would’ve just interpreted this as a routinary question, this time it wasn’t the case at all. This time it felt like an attack. Like something Hugh had to take back immediately because it was not his place to ask it, that is:  a question he always asked anyway.

But not this time.

Because ,this time, he wasn’t okay.

“Don’t pull the anxiety card on me, Hugh.” Saying that left a bitter, disgusting firm on his mouth, right under his tongue, which was dry. He felt like he had just chewed on a pill.

“The anxie--” Hugh narrowed his eyes, shifting into a sitting position. “I’m not pulling that card on you. I’m just asking a question.”

“Then don’t ask that question.” Simon snapped again, heading towards the kitchen to get a class of water. His feet were making too much noise when in contact with the floor, and his mouth was too dry. It was making him crazy.

It was only then that he realized they still had something else pending, and for some reason that was enough to make him stay. Simon spun on his toes, facing him. Hugh was breathing heavily, and his brows were almost touching each other.

“You didn’t answer my question, though.” He told him, in a dry tone. “Did you want to have lunch with me or did you just think taking a break while Tamaya loses her mind would be fun?”

“If Tamaya didn’t want to be in charge, she would’ve told me, and you know that.”

“Tamaya talks back when she is given a chance to.”

An empty feeling of freedom filled Simon’s body, pushing his way into the hollow all his mixed feelings had been carving at the center of his stomach.

And it wasn’t just about Tamaya, really. It wasn’t just about how lately none of her ideas were taken into consideration. Rather, it was about how nor were Kasumi’s, or his own ideas, when they tried to speak up. It was about how things were getting weirder and weirder as time went by, to the point where Simon would see a very pregnant Tamaya in the hallway, apparently fine, but stating she didn’t know if her water was breaking or if she just really needed to use the restroom (the restroom where she didn’t fit in); it was about how everyone knew damn well that Kasumi wasn’t good at public speaking and that, if anything, it just worsened her selective mutism, and yet many important speeches were given to her; it was about how Simon felt like he was talking to a wall, and how that made him feel, suspect, even, that Hugh was back to being trapped in a closet he was already too big for.

It wasn’t just about that, in conclusion.

It was just the tip of a bigger and more messed up problem.

“Well, if you want Tamaya to go bathe in her Greek goddess shower-pool-whatever that thing is, then fine. I’ll call her, I’ll tell her to take the day off, and we go back to the Headquarters.”

 “That would be great, actually!” Simon laughed sarcastically. “But you know what would be even better?”

“I don’t, Si. You tell me.”

It was a rhetorical question.

The nerve.

“That we would act like a team. That we would stop lollygagging around and take realistic turns to have our breaks, because each one of us have lives, and we’re not the only ones who have needs.” And that was about Kasumi feeling like she couldn’t do it today but having to anyway; it was about Tamaya crying in the BBQ Sunday, explaining to her husband how she wanted her baby to be with her, as a baby bawled into her arms, trying to reach for his father, because she spent so little time at home her youngest son wouldn’t recognize her sometimes; it was about Evander claiming Sandy didn’t feel like being alone with her baby bump today, but showing up at work anyway.

And yes, they had pledged to do this, but they were supposed to be in it together.

“But how should I know?” Simon hissed. “It’s not like we’re a Council or anything.”

The bile was all over his mouth now, and Simon felt possessed. He didn’t know how to stop it, and the words just kept coming, and coming and coming, as Hugh stared, half-startled, half mad.

Simon felt like he was a loaded gun that was ready to kill everything that moved, for a reason and a cause.

All those repressed feelings. All those things he desperately wanted to say but never could. The anxiety. The desperate, insatiable craving for a touch that never came. For a kiss. For anything. For a sign. A sign of whatever. One single sign, that would just let him know Hugh was still here.

“It’s not like you needed the majority of us to agree to sentence that minor to death.” He let it go, and all the air, along with his soul, left Simon’s body. “It’s not like Evander and you needed such thing, did you?”

Hugh’s confusion frown suddenly shifted.

Then, all Simon saw was the embodiment of anger, with his cheeks becoming flushed, and his knuckles becoming yellow.

“So that’s what this is all about.”

There was one word to describe that tone, and that word was condescension.

To Simon, the gut-wrenching feeling of frustration that caused him was indiscriptable, and he didn’t wish it to anybody. He would’ve preferred Hugh to scream at him, or just refuse to answer at all, because he couldn’t take it.

He had had people talking down to him his entire life. He wasn’t willing to keep tolerating that.

And in the moment he stared into Hugh’s blue eyes, Simon knew there was no turning back. Because sometimes the right thing to do was not taking it back.

Others, it was not holding it back.

“No. In fact, it’s not about that.”

“WHAT IS IT, THEN?!”

“YOU TELL ME!” Simon howled, getting one step closer to him, and all the memories started flowing...more likely, overflowing, including that time when he had talked to Kasumi and Tamaya in the living room, just like as if they were teenagers, instead of grown ass people, about how Hugh was leaving, even though he was still right there.

Right there, looking like a corpse.

A blue, stiff corpse.

“Why don’t you ever kiss me anymore?” Simon asked, and his voice sounded way less threatening than he had intended. “Why?”

“Are you really going to pull that card on me?”

“I am going to pull it because I want to know!” Simon barked, pointing at his own chest, which was getting tighter and tighter with every second. “Why don’t you ever touch me anymore? Why am I always invisible to you, even when I’m not? Why are you so fucking cold all the time? Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?!”

Hugh wheezed, maybe pretending it didn’t make sense, or maybe pretending he hadn’t understood at all. Still smirking, he ran his fingers through his hair, and stared at Simon, scratching his chin, and clicking his tongue.

“So...Sex.”

Simon’s heart was pounding.

“Yes, sex!” He yelled, shameless. “And kisses, and hugs and my husband! That is what am I asking for!”

“WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO?! WE’RE BUSY!”

“WE’RE NOT BUSY NOW!”

“SO YOU WANT TO GET LAID NOW?!”

“I’M NOT GETTING LAID WHILE THINKING ABOUT HOW A CHILD WILL BE EXECUTED BY ANOTHER CHILD BECAUSE I WASN’T ALLOWED TO DO ANYTHING TO STOP IT FROM HAPPENING!”

“SHE TRIED TO KILL ME! SHE TRIED TO KILL MAX!”

“FIRST: AN ATTEMPTED ASSASINATION IS NOT ENOUGH TO GIVE SOMEBODY A DEATH PENALTY, AND, SECOND: THAT’S WHAT GENISSA SAID!”

“ISN’T THAT ENOUGH?!”

“THAT’S NOT ENOUGH!” Simon screamed, covering his ears with hands.

He didn’t know why, specifically, the ears, knowing that, in reality, his eyes were the problem, because every time he closed them, he saw Nova in that chair, like an animal. And he saw Genissa standing in the lobby, playing with them like puppets; he saw Evander’s despicable smirk when he told Genissa to go ahead; he saw Adrian’s furious eyes as he called his own dad a dictator; he saw Hugh.

Mostly, he saw Hugh, and the caricaturesque villain version of him, which Simon despised with every inch of his being.

Then he was back at the beginning. At Nova.

Nova, who had tan skin, pitch black hair and slanted blue eyes. And Nova, who looked familiar when she smiled, because she looked similar to that man who had come to the Headquarters asking for help, whose smile looked similar to the other person who carried their blood.

And Simon couldn’t help but consider it as a real possibility. And if he happened to be right, then they were failing her.

For the second time.

“It’ll never be enough, Hugh.” He declared. “Because she…”

Simon’s internal knots became tighter, to the point they were suffocating him.

“How do we know who this girl is?” he questioned. “How do we know it isn’t her?”

“Her, who? What are you talking about?”

“Her. The one we failed to protect.” Simon felt a tear slipping from his eye, as he became closer and Hugh walked backwards. “Uh? How do we know that? How do we…?”

But something stopped him.

 And that something was Hugh’s eyes, turning grey as chromium.

He was breathing fast. Faster with every second, and where maybe he saw anger, Simon saw nothing but deep, stored pain, flowing out of him like sweat, or like the tears that weren’t there.

There was Hugh’s bleeding shell again, protecting him like he was a small child curled up on the floor, in a ball, through a polarized surface where Simon and him couldn’t touch, and where nothing could hurt him, while everything could at the same time.

There it was.

The despicable, horrid, bleeding shell.

Except this time it wasn’t bleeding. No. No.

This time, the dense, bubbling blood was falling off it, reaching Simon’s feet, and the shell was in flames. Tall, untamable flames, that were burning the roof and everything surrounding them.

The shell was burning, while Hugh was inside of it, and nobody could get him out before he was burned to death.

Why didn’t he let anyone help him?

Why did he insist the flames weren’t there?

Why couldn’t Simon hold his hand?

Why was he so far?

“We didn’t fail to protect her. She died.” Hugh declared, and when Simon saw his lips quivering, he realized they weren’t talking about Nova anymore.

“She didn’t fail. She died. “ Simon saw the silver painting Hugh’s fingertips, as tears started rolling down his face. “She died! SHE DIED, WHEN IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME, SIMON!”

The bleeding shell was burning, and Simon still couldn’t find his way in.

“IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME! AND SHE DIED! SHE DIDN’T FAIL TO PROTECT ANYONE! SHE DIED! IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME! SHE DIED, SIMON! SHE DIED!”

Their eyes met for a couple of second, and the connection vanished after a blink.

“IT’S NOT HER FAULT SHE DIED, IT’S MINE!”

Hugh was sobbing, like a small child, and Simon was too.

“...It’s...it’s mine, Simon. Always has been.”

And they were so far, despite being so close, that they were left with holding themselves tight.

Because there was no way to get into the burning shell, for Hugh, strangely as it sounded, had never said those words out loud, because he thought the picture on the wall behind him, the one with the woman wearing a floral pink dress with their son -who was also hers- sitting on her lap, would hear him and that would make her sad.

Yet, Simon knew she wasn’t sad at the moment.

He knew her well enough to know she would’ve been disappointed, instead.

Anybody would be if they had to see their family kill the one thing they had died trying to protect.

“No.” Simon declared, calmly. “But I’m not going to go and try to convince you otherwise because I know it’s not the right time.”

Hugh started shaking.

“Si…”

“And I won’t be a part of this, either.” Simon declared, firm, still staring at the picture through the corner of his eye, yet still fully focused on Hugh. “From now on, all you’ll get from me is silence in regards to the issue. I’m not willing to be a part of it. I don’t agree with this. I will never agree.”

“You don’t understand.”

“And I’m glad I don’t. In fact, I hope I never do.” Simon wiped his tears with his palm, and before continuing, he tried to find his Hugh one more time.

He was still there.

Simon hadn’t yet given up on him, but he didn’t feel like telling him that at the moment.

For some reason.

“If Adrian wants to see me, tell him I’ll be at Kasumi’s.”

“Simon.” Hugh grabbed him by the wrist, and a simple wave from Simon’s hand was enough to get it off. Way too easy, for a person who happened to have super-strength. “Simon, please. Don’t do this again. Please. SIMON!”

But Simon did it again anyway.

Later, he wondered what Adrian had felt when he abducted Max from the hospital and left a note for them.

He also wondered what everyone else had felt when the real Nightmare showed up.

Not that he was mad at them.

He just wondered what they had felt.

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

thanks for ur as always deepful analyses and answers ! another ask for u : im soo afraid in the next chapter momo will be homophobic towards ht !! I mean except Zzx who seems at ease with his sexuality, the other boys all seem kind of homophobic. Jy called ht repulsive bc he called him pretty while he was a guy, Ht is very agressive in his advances (which i linked to toxic virility which entails homophobia) ; then both of them changed for the better bc of their feelings for another man. 1/?

Good evening, dear anon-san!

“thanks for ur as always deepful analyses and answers !”

I’m glad you’ve enjoyed them! Every time people send me questions it always makes me happy and to be honest, a bit taken aback because I’m just a little old me. But I’m glad my answers have had such a positive reception and given people food for thought. And it’s always a pleasant surprise when people feel like they can come to my ask box with their interpretations and strike up a conversation.

Homophobia is a very complex topic, and I wondered where I should start to unravel this ask. But soon I realized before I can even begin that I have to take a moment to sort out my own feelings. Whenever people say the boys in 19 Days are abusive or homophobic for whatever reason I tend to get ticked off. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, often sparked by my own bias, but something that can very easily cloud my answer and make it unfair for you. Exchanging interpretations and perspectives requires a level of objectivity and the ability to rise above your own bias. I can’t dismiss something just because it uncomfortably pokes my nerve. Instead, I should take a step back, try and see things from another point of view, and find some common ground.

I’m not saying I had to struggle to agree with you on anything but your ask certainly reminded me of how challenging yet rewarding it is to actually listen to an interpretation that differs from my own and try to objectively look at the story from that point of view. It hurts your brain at first but is surprisingly freeing in the end.

Because you addressed so many things in your ask, I will tie my answer together under the theme of homophobia and give it some structure that way. This will be my great 19 Days - homophobia edition. \(^v^)/

Sexual orientation and environment

Let’s start with the biggest context you brought up in your ask: social and cultural environment. I’m not familiar enough with Chinese culture to have anything definite to say about its attitude towards LGBT people. Of course, I’ve heard of the discrimination and even blatant hate by their government but I don’t have any idea about how ordinary, modern-day Chinese people view others with different sexual orientations. Not to mention, it’s always risky to take fictional works as an accurate representation of the milieu in which they’re set.

But I do think that 19 Days discusses homophobia in societies, though on a more general level. As Jian Yi has come to realize his feelings towards Zhan Zheng Xi, we’ve also gotten glimpses of his struggles. They’re surrounded by other kids in school, and from the very early chapters it’s been implied two guys being that close together or comfortable with that level of skinship turns people’s heads (ch. 53, 54, 55, and 57):

Of course, those panels also poke fun at the stereotype of girls being interested in cute guys being cute together. The girls stare, take pictures, and even smile knowingly. This bothered ZZX because it put him in awkward situations and created misunderstandings that would be embarrassing to correct. And the more he would try to deny and correct them, the more he would probably end up looking suspicious. But the bottom line is, he was increasingly conscious of the weird looks and attention JY’s antics were attracting and didn’t want people to get the wrong picture of his friendship with JY. All of that could give us some hints on how two boys being close might be viewed by their peers, but it should also be kept in mind that those kinds of “gay panic” moments are a big part of the humor you find in 19 Days.

Having a crush on someone of the same gender gets more serious tones after JY kissed ZZX (ch. 142)

The secret was finally out in the open. JY had carried his feelings in his heart for a long time. He had wanted to confess them so many times and often hidden them behind jokes and antics. Perhaps every time he had jumped to hug ZZX he had caught a whiff of his scent and enjoyed the feeling of him in his arms. But to take the definite last step of confessing and lifting that curtain had always terrified him. And who wouldn’t have been scared? Not only would you have to come out but also risk losing your childhood best friend. It could be JY had even thought of never telling ZZX about his feelings because it could go horribly wrong.

For a while, things are somewhat put on pause after the first reveal which I found very realistic. JY wasn’t flat-out rejected but ZZX most definitely needed a moment to sort out his own feelings. He pestered JY to be straight with him (pun not intended...) and made it clear it would be safe for JY to rely on him and free himself of the burden. Despite that JY was still very unsure if his confession won’t result in ZZX abandoning him because “gay” is abnormal and disgusting (ch. 164):

Even when JY finally confessed he was expecting to be rejected in disgust (ch. 209):

But he had sort of reached the point of just finally getting it all out even if ZZX wouldn’t return his feelings. Even if it meant they wouldn’t be friends anymore. At least he had said it. He had heartbreakingly little faith that their kind of relationship wouldn’t be completely doomed. Thank god he had fallen for someone like ZZX. I don’t think I’ve never been as grateful for a character like him before.

A tangible example of how Zhanyi and their environment collided was Xiao Hui’s character (ch. 158):

When she called JY a disgusting gay, it was the first time he was facing that kind of homophobia. Though her actions were frustrating, I think Xiao Hui’s character was a good addition to Zhanyi. At first, she lashed out both because she was hurt and publicly humiliated but also no doubt because she had internalized the idea that heterosexuality was the norm and anything else was abnormal and wrong. Later on, she had had time to lick her wounds and calm down (ch. 258):

She still has a crush on ZZX but even though she probably realizes she doesn’t have a chance she still wants a clear rejection from ZZX. It still hurts and stings but doesn’t upset her as much. It could even be she’s a little happy for them. I think Xiao Hui’s character is a good example that people are capable of changing and reflecting when they’re given a chance. And no one should be forever held accountable and punished for the mistakes they made and have since bettered themselves.

In a broader sense, I think Zhanyi also discusses what kind of future a same-sex couple could have in society (ch. 268):

That drawing on the wall is my favorite Zhanyi moment. As cute as ZZX drawing him and JY together was, it also carries some bittersweet undertones. The original drawing represents the norm: a boy and a girl in love but if there are no skirts involved, it’s a whole other story. To be open about their relationship would most probably never be an option for JY and ZZX. Something as simple as holding hands in public would take courage and threaten to complicate other aspects of their lives (school, work, family). They don’t have the same privilege as straight people to openly and safely share their feelings and have that universal experience.

Your ask was mainly about Mo Guan Shan and He Tian, but I wanted to take a moment to talk about their environment since you also referred to it. And the easiest way for that seemed to be to talk about the progress of Zhanyi. As you suggested, it does seem the society in which all of the characters live is very much heteronormative which puts pressure on the characters to fit in. And if they fail that, they will face homophobia and most probably feel the need to hide their true selves. Case in point, Zhanyi.

Boys being boys

As much as I know that phrase is deemed Problematic™ these days, I think it fits the dynamics of the boys of 19 Days. They mess with each other, and all of that is typical humor for the comic. Personally, I’ve never taken any of their teasing and good-natured bullying seriously because it’s how 15-year-old boys are around each other.

However, I just finished talking about the environment under which influences and discourses the boys have grown up. I don’t feel like I can ignore what I had just been saying and brush it off as “oh well, they’re just boys” if they’ve always been surrounded by certain attitudes. Does that mean the boys have also internalized those attitudes towards gay people despite having feelings for someone of the same sex? Does that make them a representation of toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia?

In all honesty, I’m struggling to answer those questions. On one hand, I do agree that society’s norms of what is masculine put a lot of pressure on boys when growing up. You have to act, talk, dress, and be in a certain way to be accepted, and it doesn’t take a lot for kids to internalize those ideas. And as you said, acting or looking gay (not to mention, actually being one) is probably the worst a young boy could be. Being gay is often linked to everything a proper man shouldn’t be: sissy, effeminate, sensitive, weak, submissive, on the bottom. The list goes on and on.

On the other hand, do I think you can see that in the four main boys of 19 Days? I suppose it’s possible if that’s the direction you want to take. If you look at anything through those lenses, you can probably find toxic masculinity everywhere. Do I think HT, MGS, JY and ZZX are homophobic because they possibly showcase traits of toxic masculinity? I guess. I don’t know. I see where that interpretation comes from, but some part of my brain never manages to make the full connection between those two. I’m constantly having a feeling that my way of thinking differs from your interpretation but I can’t properly validate or argue my opinions.

Perhaps taking a look at the examples you mentioned might help. You talked about JY being homophobic when this was his response to HT calling him good looking (ch. 108):

I can’t exactly deny that panel couldn’t be taken as toxic masculinity. I might even agree with you on that. I wouldn’t probably go as far as saying JY was being homophobic but it does seem like his masculinity was threatened or questioned in that situation. Interestingly, I’ve seen that phrase pop up a lot in yaoi/shounen-ai comics. Characters who are in a gay relationship don’t often feel comfortable with guys complimenting them - or even the guy they’re in love with. I’ve always wondered that. Does that mean there’s a level of self-denial in those characters or is it just a cultural thing? Does it embarrass them?

In general, I think all of that has to do with their age, and another good example of that would be ZZX and JY’s reaction to HT messing with MGS (ch. 289 and 298):

I’ve seen people calling those moments homophobic as well and can’t really agree with them. I would say those reactions have more to do with teenage boys being awkward and embarrassed. HT putting the moves on MGS in front of them is embarrassing and something they don’t wish to see. I mean, I wouldn’t want to see my friends constantly acting like that around me either. Seeing public displays of affection embarrasses me and makes me awkward as hell. (Though, I don’t know if that’s just a Finnish thing...)

In short, I see a lot of how the boys act around each other just natural to how teenage boys are. They mess with each other and standing up for yourself in that sense (for example, getting revenge, being physical, or returning the verbal teasing) is important and typical. That’s how I see JY’s words in the example you mentioned: he felt like HT was messing with him and shot back. All of that could, of course, be seen as internalized toxic masculinity, but I don’t think it’s quite as blatant as people sometimes make it out to be. I’ve always taken it as boys just being boys and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

What comes to HT being pushy and overbearing, I don’t see that being connected to toxic masculinity and making him homophobic because of that. It feels a bit of a stretch and shakey. Instead, I actually think HT is quite comfortable with both of his own feelings for MGS and the idea of same-sex relationships in general (ch. 187):

The little heart-to-hearts JY and HT occasionally have also show us that despite often making fun of each other, they can take it more seriously when needed. JY would have never asked about having feelings for another male if he couldn’t trust HT wouldn’t make fun of him.

The case of Mo Guan Shan

You talked a lot about MGS, so I thought I’d take a closer look at his character separately. You made some interesting points I’ve also been thinking about and was glad they popped up in your ask.

Since we’ve talked about toxic masculinity so far, let’s continue on that. You mentioned that MGS is prone to homophobia because he’s had to act tough. Upholding a certain kind of image is essential in gangs. Being weak and submissive - aka gay, as I talked about above - isn’t an option in that line of work.

I agree with you on all of that. Why MGS is so uncomfortable with HT being physical with him is at least partly because he can’t come across as someone who can be taken advantage of (ch. 250):

If he can be physically overpowered and made vulnerable, it means he can be submitted. In the masculine world, physical strength seems to be the final and ultimate law that settles all the disputes at the latest. And if you lose in that you’re on the bottom or at least lower on the hierarchy. Now, multiply that mentality by a lot to fit it in the world of teenage gangs and the borderline criminal underworld. So, yes, I would most definitely say MGS doesn’t want himself to be put in that situation. Much less anyone finding out about it.

Then again, the story has kind of revisited that idea when HT “joined” MGS’s gang and his underlings started seeing HT around more. And they seem somewhere between intimidated by HT and impressed their boss has managed to make someone like HT call him “brother”. That fits the same mentality of strength, but I can’t honestly see Buzzcut or other members of the gang giving MGS a hard time even if they found out about HT’s affections. Chances are, they would be even more impressed, bless them.

Overall, I think MGS lashing out (or being homophobic) is mostly due to him not trusting HT and HT slowly but surely wearing him out and making him see his own prejudice against people like HT. Yelling out insults has been the easiest way to fight HT’s affections, although it’s not proven very successful. It’s also important to remember MGS is fairly inexperienced when it comes to love and romantic affection (ch. 222):

He’s always been rejected and discriminated by his peers and over the years, he’s started to mirror that behavior and push people away. Having crushes (let alone having a girlfriend) has never really been a concern for him. And it’s not like he’s had time for something like romance anyway because working has taken so much of his time. In this regard, MGS isn’t that mature or experienced and tends to get uncomfortable and lash out very quickly.

I’ve already talked about the note and what kind of role I think it will have (if it will be addressed at all). And I’m not really worried about MGS saying something homophobic to HT. I think we’re way past of him being like “I don’t speak to a homo” at this point already. He’s been aware of HT’s affections for a good while by now and even tentatively warmed up to some of it (for example, the aquarium date and the studs). (Even though, I think it’s still too early to talk about MGS being in love with HT.)

MGS has come a long way, and I might even say he’s gained some sexuality-related maturity on the way. Slowly but surely, he’s become comfortable with having HT around, and if after all this development he would say something like that, it would be a pretty big step backward. Of course, that doesn’t mean he can’t throw insults and lash out but let’s not forget we’re talking about a purebred tsundere here. That’s always going to happen with him.

And while we’re keeping it real, it’s not like HT would pay any mind to those insults. After MGS asked for the studs, I think HT’s resolve has only strengthened.

I hope this answer makes some sense, to me it feels like a bit of a mess of this and that. A lof of “I can’t deny that but still...” You really threw some hard questions and challenged my thinking a lot. Thank you!

[polyacrylamidepensieve]

For Posterity

Just realized as I was walking around my circle today, working on getting my stamina back: it’s probably a good idea to actually record just how colossally bad I’ve felt in the last four years or so. This way, when my patients tell me someday that they’re having similar sufferings, I can read this and remember how the world looks from here.

I haven’t wanted to honestly talk about it, bc it makes people uncomfortable and they don’t know how to respond… so guys, just don’t bother. Rest assured, I’m perfectly fine and there’s nothing more I need in this world right now. I’m happy now, that’s what matters. That’s what makes now a good time to finally write about this stuff in straightforward prose, without all of the pretty metaphors and euphemisms I always hide behind when I don’t want to admit how bad I’m feeling even to myself.

I’m posting this publicly because I want others to read my story and see their own suffering reflected here, to message me and tell me how your stories are perhaps similar and yet not the same. You are not alone. You are not abnormal. I got better. Maybe you will, too.

Okay. Let’s see. Well, during the first two years of med school, I was so clinically depressed and had so many intrusive thoughts (a symptom of anxiety) that I suffered from severe cognitive limitations. I couldn’t focus for long enough to read so much as a sentence. I’d get to the third word and then come to ten minutes later and realize I’d spaced out and couldn’t remember what I was supposed to be doing or why, and then I’d go lie down until I could remember what I had been trying to do. So I ended up basically either in class (four hours a day, four days a week) or in bed. Being in bed so much is really physically bad for a person - I completely deconditioned. I lost ten pounds because I couldn’t get up the desire to eat. I became short of breath just standing or walking for half an hour or so. I got sick at the drop of a hat, and I still think that level of immunocompromise is why I got cancer later. But more on that in a bit. I couldn’t hold real conversations or make friends - I’d forget what I was trying to say halfway through pretty much every sentence, and I couldn’t focus for long enough to really hear what people were trying to tell me, either. For someone who had always been high achieving, it was a truly eye opening experience to have a working memory of about 2-3 pieces of information. I know now what it’s like to stare at something for hours without comprehension. After I switched psychiatrists and my meds were doubled around the end of second year, I woke up one day and could think again. (I had a week before step 1. Still not sure how I passed, and not sure my score will be enough to get me in anywhere I want to go either. But that’s not relevant here. The point is,) I looked at the material that had given me so much trouble and I could understand it within about thirty seconds. That’s when I finally understood my privilege. That’s why “try harder” is no longer something I tell anyone to do, no matter how seemingly small or mundane the task. I finally understood in that moment that everyone is trying their very hardest every single day. Being able to accomplish things simply by trying hard is a capital-P Privilege.

Anyway, I was mildly suicidal for a little bit. I ended up sleeping with the classmate who lived in my building simply because he was the one person who could be there without too much inconvenience. When I didn’t know for sure that I could be alone and be safe, I didn’t feel like I was imposing too much by asking him to come up a few flights of stairs, and so I actually reached out for help, thank god. We don’t really get along, and we fought constantly because he’s unintentionally but unerringly patronizing and I was uber sensitive. If not for my condition, I don’t think we would have talked much or even been friends. But he saved my life, and I will forever be grateful for his willingness to be my crutch when I needed it most.

I don’t actually remember most of the ins and outs of those two years. He remembers much better than I do. I don’t remember entire major outings or conversations I had with people. It’s almost like being blacked out - you’re somewhat functional at the time but have no memory of it later. If my school had had tests or grades, I would not have made it through. I got my weekly essays and presentations done by going to bed early and waking up to do them at 3 am. I could focus a little better right when I woke up, and the adrenaline of having to present or submit in a few hours helped me to cobble together at least a semblance of something I could turn in.

The silver lining? I shed the gigantic ego I’d been lugging around. That, and I developed a thick skin. Thick enough, hopefully, to make it through a surgical residency. We’ll see. I am now capable of publicly humiliating myself and laughing it off - a vital tool in the physician toolbox. I, who would once have been mortified not to be thoroughly prepared for each and every class, made it through med school without reading a thing. My inadequacy was in everyone’s face during those years. It showed up three times a week for small group problem-based learning. It reared its head every Monday or Thursday when I worked with my preceptors in clinic. And whenever I was compelled to speak in class, it made sure to loiter around until the very end. My classmates still see me as an incompetent, anxious, and unreliable peer, and I may never truly win their trust at this point. The less pleasant ones didn’t deign to speak to me at all, back then. Wouldn’t meet my eyes or acknowledge what I had to say. Anyway, it was either learn to handle it or kill myself. The boy I mentioned above once described the aftermath of my suicide in such vivid detail that I couldn’t bring myself to be so selfish, even when I was at rock bottom. So now here I am, for better or for worse, unapologetically alive and with the habit of failing firmly tucked into my back pocket.

I can also now say that I’m a significantly more receptive listener, so there’s that. I no longer hear threats to my ego when people are just trying to help or to ask for help. Also, being willing to admit to anyone that I don’t know something or that I’m wrong somewhere has allowed me to become much more assertive and to ask for things I would never have asked for before. Nothing can hurt me anymore, not worse than I’ve handled being hurt before.

Not even cancer. That’s the second half of all of this. It’s a much shorter half, bc honestly it wasn’t that bad. But the fatigue, my god. Night sweats are gross, surgery hurts, my breasts are no longer as beautiful as they were, the MRI guided biopsy was brutally painful and I’m allergic to the contrast dye. None of that compares to the fatigue. I struggled for months before my diagnosis and just couldn’t explain to my research year supervisor why I had so much trouble coming in to work on time. I would sleep for twelve, fourteen hours on the weekends, wake up for two hours and then nap for another five or six hours. I never felt rested. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get my team to respect or like me. I was just so tired.

After my diagnosis, the blows just kept coming. I was diagnosed via phone call on my 26th birthday, and my parents’ insurance stopped covering me at the end of that month. We didn’t know what stage I was, if I’d need chemo, if I’d lose my fertility and my hair. Having my own biological kids was top of the list when it came to priorities before, but now that I’ve given real thought to what life looks like without them, things have shifted a bit.

I don’t have a ton else to say, though, about cancer suffering. Radiation hurt like hell the first day but got better. My boyfriend of six months dumped me and got right back together with the girl he was sleeping with before meeting me, almost not quite even in that order, around week one of radiation. But honestly? I got off easy. No chemo. I’ve even come off of my depression meds. And I’m grateful to said latest ex, too, because he was the one who found my cancer. I think I just don’t want ever to forget how scary it all was, despite knowing how to navigate the system better than most and having insider influence. For my patients, I can’t afford to forget the pre-surgery anxiety or the shock of being diagnosed. I can’t forget what it was like to be powerless and broken, because someday I’ll be the one behind the knife, the one with all the power.

And you know what? Cancer is something that either breaks people apart or pushes them together, and I found out that I am truly blessed with incredible friends. I didn’t tell many people about my diagnosis (at this point, half of my 32 person class doesn’t know), and still I had a few classmates and friends offer to shave their heads with me. Others offered to bring me food, take me to my appointments, watch my cat, and some even just came over almost every day for a week to hold my hand and listen to me cry my eyes out over a boy. My 3 best girlfriends, who’ve been my best friends since we were all in fifth grade, sent me packages and pictures of pink strips they’d collectively dyed into their hair. I don’t know how I’ll ever pay all of this forward, but I guess I can definitely try. :)