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video | un: NAILS

[ the video begins with badou wearing one of his usual tees, carefully setting his phone down so the camera angle can spot him sitting on his living room floor surrounded by an array of dresses. affixed to his wrist is a little cloth pumpkin, stuck full of needles and pins. he's without his usual cigarette, instead sucking on a lollipop that stains his lips bright red. last time he made a post on the network his neck was bruised and bandaged — this time it's the same thing, but the bruise is angrier, spreading across his neck and shoulder, disappearing under a bandage and gauze that looks about ready to get changed in an hour or two. ]

Evenin'.

[ he picks up the skirt of one of the dresses, flipping it inside-out to access the pocket he'd been working on attaching. ]

So I'm sittin' here, mendin' dresses — as you do — and I nicked myself pretty good and I'm thinkin', well, shit, that's another one I gotta wait on, y'know?

[ he lifts a forefinger, displaying a bandage that looks an awful like like dora the explorer, and wiggles it in the direction of the camera. ]

It got me thinkin'—

How many of us here are just regular ol' humans? Or whatever. I'm talkin' no magic, no special augmentations, no fancy shamcy abilities that got you doin' better than the average guy.

[ he pauses to finish off a stitch, making a knot with his thread and cutting the excess with his teeth. ]

See, where I'm from, that ain't the norm. But that doesn't seem to be the case around here.

[ oh, one more thing— ]

And if you are one of the special ones, go ahead and tell us what you can do. Why not, right? What else do any of us got to hide at this point?

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[ what does he even say to that? pretty sure. sounds like badou knows something he doesn't. heine's ears turn red, so all the better that badou's not looking.

he shakes the bowl a little, making its contents rattle against the sides. ] Snack stuff. Crackers and dried fruit.

[ not quite trail mix, but some kind of salty-sweet combo situation. still new to the world of snacking in general, heine is still experimenting with the flavor profiles he likes. ]

You want?

[ the rattling gets badou's attention, and he considers the last time he put something in his stomach that wasn't an energy drink. he looks at the time, and figures it can't hurt to have a little something to nibble on.

so he tips his head back onto the couch, opening his mouth wide. ]

Sure. [ why's that eye contact so intense though? ] Feed me.

[ baby bird looking ass mf. but what does it say about heine that even though he rolls his eyes, he still leans over to do as badou asks?

with at least enough care not to make badou choke on them, heine feeds him one of the crackers plus two pieces of dried strawberry. ]

I think I like sweet things more when there's salty things with it.

[ cronch cronch cronch goes badou's victory treats (a victory because it had honestly been a gamble to see if heine would comply in the first place. the dried strawberry is a strange flavor to mingle with the distinctly artificial cherry one of his lollipop, which he pops back in after swallowing. ]

Sounds about right. [ he returns to his sewing after a cocked brow heine's way. ] Havin' a taste for sweets is usually a luxury for the havers. Best to temper it down with somethin' more accessible. [ did he just turn heine's offhanded comment into a class discourse? damn he needs a cig so bad. ]

[ he sure did, and heine kind of blinks at it, but badou's not wrong and after a second heine smiles briefly before settling back against the couch. (not that badou is watching to see the smile happen.) ]

Sweet by itself is too intense. [ and badou is exactly right about why: he grew up without a tongue accustomed to that flavor profile, definitely one of the have-nots. ] —Are you eating a lollipop instead of smoking?

[ has hell frozen over? ]

[ to answer, badou rolls said lollipop around in his mouth, letting the hard candy shell rattle noisily against his teeth.

to elaborate, he says, ] Obviously, these dresses ain't for me. [ obviously. ] I like 'em brighter, more colorful, y'know? I figure it ain't all that polite of me to stink 'em up with my smoke. 'Specially since Ness prefers hers different.

[ he's reaching the end of his thread, though, so he has to set his work aside so he can reach long-limbed over heine to dig around in a tin cookie box for the spool again. ]

Back home, if the funds weren't fundin', I'd switch to candy to keep my mouth busy.

[ obviously, badou says, in a tone that immediately makes heine say, ] Really? I wouldn't have guessed.

[ this is the nice thing about being around badou: they can be like this without fear of misunderstanding. of all the people heine has ever met it has always been badou who knows him best. ]

Makes sense. Got me worried you were out. [ and that heine might have to do damage control to go find a carton somewhere. ] I'm guessing candy doesn't hit the same, though.

[ at this point heine has lived with badou for so long that he barely even registers the smell of cigarettes anymore... ]

Nah, not yet.

[ though he has noticed they aren't cropping up as regularly as they used to, which is in itself pretty concerning, but not nearly as much as when the candy starts being more sparse too. badou is no stranger to withdrawal, and he's worked out his own methods of coping, but the less reason he has to lose his absolute shit, the better. who fucking knows what this city'll do to take advantage of it. ]

But no, not even close. I need about ten of these to every one cig, and it's not like they're all that much cheaper either. Not that that matters, here.

Take the wins where we can, I guess. [ that they don't actually have to pay for anything is one of the few small blessings of this place. not that it matters as much for heine, who's used to living like an ascetic, but he's been around the block when it comes to badou's nicotine withdrawals and he's glad badou doesn't have to suffer that here.

yet, anyway.

after a brief pause, thinking about that worn silver lighter badou carries in his pocket, heine asks: ] Did you pick up the habit from your brother?

[ badou plucks out a spool of thread and examines it in the faint light for a couple of moments. ]

I used to hate the smell, y'know. Sometimes I still do. Got on his case about it at least once a week, how much his smokes would stink up the place.

[ he sets the spool down in the puddle of fabric on his lap, seemingly forgetting why he'd sought it out in the first place. ]

After he bit the dust, I took it up just to get the smell back. Now it's one of the only things keepin' me sane.

[ heine stretches his legs out along the couch, leaning back against the arm of it so he can look over at what badou is doing. inspecting the thread, fiddling with the fabric. creating, building. heine has always been so impressed by what badou's hands can do. ]

You know something, I don't think it's ever bothered me. [ it's a strong smell, sure, but after enough time spent around badou, heine's mostly noseblind. ] It's just what you smell like to me. Kinda reminds me of home.

[ just normal heterosexual things to say to your bro, i guess. ]

[ home, he says, and badou feels the blunt end of the needle dig into the soft pad of his thumb. ]

Yeah... That's kinda how it was — is — for me.

[ for so long, dave had been all badou had ever known or had. even when dave was gone, his presence in badou's life lingered like a foul taste... even now, he still hasn't stopped haunting him.

but the way heine says it — home — it sounds... different. better. hm. ]

You gonna sit there and lounge around all day, or are you gonna be helpful?

[ heine has never had a home that was another person before; now that he's said it aloud he's shocked as shit to realize that it's true. it's a thought he stores away, to be taken out and examined another time.

he gives badou a long, considering look. ]

...I was thinking about lounging, yeah. [ the way the corners of his mouth twitch make it obvious he's fighting for his life not to smile. ] Why, what do you need?

[ the pause between responses is just long enough for badou to climb up onto his feet, shaking out the skirt he'd just finished up with. what does he need, you ask? ]

A model.

[ weird how he stands as if to block heine's only mean of escape. weird! ]

Strip, Rammsteiner.

[ the kill bill sirens start playing in heine's head even before badou is done standing up, but by the time he understands exactly what badou is asking him to do, it's too late to make an escape. so he stays where he is on the couch, legs stretched out, cradling his mostly empty snack bowl in his lap.

heine makes eye contact, slowly eats one dried strawberry, and says, ] And what do I get out of this arrangement?

[ badou puts a finger to his chin, looking like he's really putting some thought to it. ]

You don't have to listen to me bitchin' about not havin' a model?

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video | un: NAILS

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