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[braveoff]

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[hippie_ninja]

Jesus doesn't call or text first; he turns up and stands at the door, key in hand, not sure what to do. So he knocks, but then unlocks it and lets himself in. Maybe this is the last time he'll ever be allowed to do it. Maybe Drake will ask for the key back now.

"Drake?"

[braveoff]

It's a time of day when Drake's usually home, but when Jesus calls out... nothing. No reply, no excited dog rushing into the foyer, no sound from deeper into the apartment.

Hmmmmmm...

[hippie_ninja]

He steps in, checking corners as he always does, not worried yet.

"Sable?" A soft whistle.

[braveoff]

There's no obvious cause for concern either way, but there's definitely nobody home of any species. The only door closed is the sub room and should Jesus peek inside, it's vacant. A lot of the paintings have been moved and overall it looks like things are being packed up? Which is different! But no one's there.

[hippie_ninja]

He settles in to wait, but if Drake doesn't show in an hour he'll finally cave and send him a text:

Are you busy?

[braveoff]

No. You okay?

[hippie_ninja]

I'm at your place. Can we talk here? Please.

[braveoff]

Yeah but that's not an answer.

10 minutes

[hippie_ninja]

I'm not hurt. Not doing very well. Just need to see you.

[braveoff]

I'm not sure I've got any rum left but there's hot chocolate in the cabinet above the coffeemaker. Make yourself something.

[hippie_ninja]

He makes a drink for Drake, too, while he's at it and then just settles in to wait.

[braveoff]

It's actually only seven minutes later when Jesus hears the lock click, but who's counting? As soon as the door opens Sable is bounding in and straight for her friend, Drake lingering in the entryway just long enough to hang her leash and his jacket. Normally he'd take off his boots there too -- right now he doesn't bother, moving with more urgency than usual as he spots Jesus and beelines for him. If he notices the second mug he doesn't react to it.

"Hey. What's going on?"

[hippie_ninja]

"I was wrong." First and foremost. "And I'm sorry. I wish I could go back to Friday and undo this."

His own mug is barely touched.

[braveoff]

At first, Drake's subtly worried expression tips more towards confused... then his mask settles into place. That careful, practiced, practically unreadable neutrality that Jesus had only ever seen directed at others before Friday. And now Drake's wearing it for him. He nods slightly in acknowledgment, taking a seat himself.

"You saw K, huh?"

[hippie_ninja]

"No. I mean, yes. But I felt this way after the party. During." Hell he'd spoken to Carver about it. "Even if K wants to leave, I want to be signed with you."

[braveoff]

...well this sure is a roller coaster Jesus has them all on, now isn't it? Drake just watches him for a long moment, still and quiet, taking in his miserable expression. He sounds as genuine about this as he had about not signing, is the problem, and Drake feels like the knife he didn't bother to pull out of his chest yet is being twisted again.

It doesn't show, his calm mask very firmly in place. This can't be something Jesus decides on out of guilt.

"Okay," he says carefully, "but three days ago you said you needed to not be. Those aren't mutually exclusive feelings."

[hippie_ninja]

"Three days ago I was panicking. I was doing what I did in the old world but I don't want to be that person anymore. I want to be better." He looks at Drake, wishing he could see something through that careful neutrality freezing him out.

[braveoff]

"Better...? Than what, exactly?" No, maybe that isn't the right question. He tries again. "Better for who?"

[hippie_ninja]

"For myself." First and foremost. He's the one who has to live with every decision he makes. "I don't want to be someone who runs from things when they get to feeling too good. I don't want to be afraid of living."

[braveoff]

Although his expression still doesn't give anything away, if he's watching closely enough Jesus can tell that he gave the 'right' answer from how Drake's posture relaxes slightly. The silence that stretches between them isn't uncomfortable, at least. Just weighty, echoing the importance of his internal consideration.

It probably feels like it takes him forever, but then Drake stands up and crosses to the kitchen counter to open the drawer on the end. That ubiquitous "stuff" drawer with things like tape, scissors, rubber bands, spare takeout utensils, the random not-quite-junk that doesn't quite belong anywhere else. He pulls out some papers and returns to Jesus, setting them down -- it's their unsigned contract. The same terms as always, the copy that Jesus didn't sign on Friday morning. Drake hadn't thrown it out.

"We need to actually talk about... everything," he warns Jesus, "but if you mean that? Neither of us need me playing keep away with it."

[hippie_ninja]

His first thought is Drake knew, somehow, that Jesus would come back. And then he second guesses that and tells himself not to make such assumptions.

And then he's just left with his throat feeling tight, looking at that stack of papers.

"I want to sign." He looks up at Drake. "Do you want to talk first?"

[braveoff]

He didn't. Drake not only didn't know, when he told K that Jesus might change his mind he wasn't actually considering it as a possibility. He'd just been trying to lighten the blow for the other man, who Drake wasn't worried for because he was fragile. He was worried because he and K have a few things in common, but K is stronger. Instead of falling apart he'd shore himself up, but in the process probably close himself off. And he deserves to be happy, to know he's got value to others just for being himself.

Drake didn't know, he'd briefly hoped and felt like it was just wishful thinking. Another thing he was being a fucking idiot about. But he'd felt sick upon telling himself to rip it up, so he hadn't. Maybe because he knew that on his end, if Jesus did want to come back he'd welcome it? (Though under no circumstances would he have ever guessed at him only going three days "alone" before it happening.)

Expression finally warming, he shakes his head slightly.

"Nah. I'm not gonna turn you away... it's okay to panic. But the running from me, please don't do that again?" He nudges the papers closer, a shaky smile tugging at one side of his mouth. "Say you're willing to figure it out with me and I think it might actually take the stress level here down a few notches. And if I'm wrong it's not like we're running to file it tonight."

In that way it's really just a promise, right? Safe.

[hippie_ninja]

"I can promise that. I mean it, I don't want to be someone who runs from something good." Maybe that's what he's learned, is still learning: what to fight for.

He leans forward and takes the pen, and signs his name.

"That's what everyone kept telling me. Talk about it. Just talk. And that's what I'm always telling everyone else."

[braveoff]

Unsurprisingly, watching Jesus sign doesn't magically untangle the mess of emotions making his chest ache... but the promise does ease a little bit more tension from his shoulders. Enough that he can breathe out and reach towards Jesus, stopping just shy of tugging the smaller man in against him. It's an invitation instead, for hopefully a little comfort that even if there's still shit to work out? Drake wants him around more than he's upset about responses that make perfect sense. Even if they hurt.

"Yeah, you should probably take your own advice," he says softly, "in my experience it's pretty damn good."

[hippie_ninja]

Jesus steps up against him, cautiously wrapping an arm around Drake and then more confidently adding the second so he can hold onto him properly.

"I'm sorry, Drake."