'I'm coming over with beer and pizza!' the text conversation had started. After schedule jiggeries were done and pizza toppings were negotiated, the time was set.
It's that time! Dress shoes land lightly on one of the balconies of Homura's new place's, and there's a masked pizza delivery guy who's completely overdressed for his job standing outside the glass doors.
He makes a show of checking his phone as the door's answered, and he reads Homura's address off it then glances up. "A-ke-mi?" he overpronounces inquisitively. "I've got the right house, right?" Blink, blink.
Blink.
Shiteating grin. "Beer's in my hat."
Homura's new house is ridiculously huge for a single girl to live in all by herself. Technically she doesn't, since Madoka has claimed one of the seven bedrooms inside.
Three stories, and the second and third floors have terraces and balconies on opposite sides, and the ground floor only has one terrace in the back. So if Mamoru wants to enter via the balcony, he's going to have his pick. However, the most convenient entrance, and the one that Homura would've directed him to, is going to be the one leading to the living room, with a kitchen just beyond it, separated by a counter and a dining table surrounded by wooden chairs.
In the middle of the living room is a couch. Amy is currently sitting on it. Homura is not. When Mamoru comes by, Homura is leaning against the wall, and she's just wearing the most casual clothes. White button-up blouse with black jean shorts. She notices the overdressed pizza delivery guy, cracks a small smile, and walks over to the sliding glass door to open it.
She snerks at his choice of opening lines, "Yes, this is the right place. Please, come in."
Homura glances into the room behind her. "You haven't seen the new place yet, have you?"
"No!" says the stupidly tall prince as he drops his henshin, revealing cargo shorts, sandals, and a red shirt that says 'this shirt is blue if you run fast enough'. His eyes are a little wide. "And you know, it's pretty big on the outside-- but you're a time traveller the a dimensionally transcendent shield." He slants her a sideways look, consideringly. And then he holds out the pizza. "But gimme a tour later, I'm hungry and I don't want to drip cheese grease on your intimidatingly beautiful mansion."
The moment she takes it -- or he sets it down -- he's making a complicated little bare-armed sleight-of-hand gesture, and he produces his top hat. Then there's digging in it, and he pulls out six microbrews, two at a time, setting them on the kitchen counter. "Plus--" he sounds a little sheepish, and won't quite look at her, which is why he's saying it while he's taking beer out of his hat, "I wanted to talk to you about something specific, just so it doesn't bug me thinking maybe you wondered, or were somehow hurt, or... I don't know, something."
A beat, as he's putting the last two down and flipping out a bottle opener. He glances at Homura, blue eyes serious. "It's important enough to me that we're on the same page for this that-- maybe-- if I can't find the right words, maybe you'll let me show you."
"It's big on the inside too. I don't know, I just wanted to have a lot of space," explains Homura. There's no reason she needs this big of a house, that she can think of, but she also didn't see any point in not having it.
She takes the pizza, walking over to the dinner table and setting it down. Then she walks past the living room and into the kitchen, coming out with plates which she then sets them down on the table, next to a napkin stand.
She glances up at the ridiculously tall Mamoru, not quite noticing that he's avoiding eye contact, but when she hears what he has to say she wears a very blank expression. She can pretty much guess what this conversation will be about.
When their eyes finally do meet, Homura stares up into them. She decides not to say what her guess is, in case she's wrong.
"You haven't done anything to hurt me, Mamo-kun." Her answer is frank, tone too straightforward and blunt to allow much room for doubt. She raises her hand, offering it to Mamoru. "You can show me if you want, if it's easier that way."
There's a lot of relief when Homura says that-- and still more when she opts for the quick and thorough and unlimited path, rather than his hesitance with words when he's talking about something that's got his emotions in a vise. Mamoru lets out a quick little sigh which almost sounds like a laugh, nervy as it is, and he wipes the condensation from the beer bottles off on his t-shirt, then takes Homura's hand in his unevenly cold one, practically enveloping it.
His hand is cold, but she's felt this warmth before, bright, calm, and affectionate, and as big as the world. The vast majority of what usually comes with even a controlled touch is suppressed -- he's getting better at this, better at doing this with neither a solid wall nor an overwhelming openness, better at making available only what concern is on the table. The bulk of the communication is emotional content and imagery, because they're still what his power does best. 'Psychic' always has specialization, and even empathy has its own subset.
To start, there's the warmest, fiercest affection for Homura herself, protective and admiring, understanding and respecting, loving with the deepest kind of friendship, of kinship. There's an understanding, too, of her singular devotion to Madoka and the lengths she's gone to and would go to in order to protect her and give her happiness, and the truest joy for her -- for them both -- that she has what she has with Madoka, that they are truly a miracle romance, that they are as clearly souls forever intertwined as himself and Usagi.
There is wryness over the fact that since he was rescued from the Dark Kingdom, he's seen her very little, and so much of it has been interacting with the Homudoka gestalt instead of with Homura or Madoka, but acceptance that that is the way of things: images of books, stacks and stacks of books; he's read about how friendships and interactions with others frequently change when one member of a friend group gets married, say. He understands that it's part of life, he does not begrudge anything at all, even if he misses--
--images, impressions, of their adventures or their philosophical conversations or their trolling each other six ways to Sunday, standout moments of the story of their friendship, all flutter past with the concept of 'I miss'; it's all only wistful, and some of it is decidedly ascribed to how busy their lives have become. Him with his Usagi and an apartment full of damaged roommate guard brother friends and his senior year of high school and the emergencies he's dealt with and the sickness that took him out of action for so long, her with her Madoka and her business and her high school entrance exams coming up and the emergencies she's dealt with or is dealing with.
And then it's likely her suspicion is proven correct.
The image of Kyouko in her Shitennou uniform. The images for her fly by much faster, only brief sense impressions, and it's likely that since the conversation between the two Puella on the roof at the grills, not much of that speedy litany is surprising. 'Orphans make their own families.' Jealousy of Apatite and Kunzite last Halloween, and not knowing which of them he was jealous of the affections of. Conversations on rooftops with beer, angst and commiseration, slow understanding of each other on both sides. The hurt Kyouko's gone through, different to Homura's and Mamoru's alike; the bond Kyouko made with Kunzite that persisted even after the Dark Kingdom. Kyouko's relationship with Sayaka, the way Kyouko latched on to things she never believed she could hold-- Momo showing up, and how that changed Kyouko, how her priorities shifted, how her relationships with the guys shifted, how she never thought that it was really real, that she really belonged, no matter how much she'd been through or how much she'd already given. Her loyalty, bright and shining and tooth and claw. Her own devotion. Her relief at the understanding that his acceptance was complete and unmitigated, even by the implications of what could happen to her as a Puella.
How goddamn cute she was coming to him and Kunzite with the sketch of the uniform she'd gotten Naru to do for her, asking if it was okay.
'Knight of Sincerity and Respect.'
Mamoru's grip loosens, and he looks a little rueful. "If history had gone differently, if you didn't already have this kind of-- this, you know I would have asked you. You know it."
Homura, as Mamoru might have noticed, is a lot more comfortable being touched than she was when they first met. As such, she doesn't really seem bothered in even the slightest bit as her hand is taken. Not that she ever did when it came to Mamoru.
Well there was one time, but that was more because of freaky visions instead of any discomfort.
The Puella, notably, has a wall of her own. It's nothing particularly harsh or mean, and it's not as if it's deceptive or secretive. It's also maybe a bit crude compared to the kinds of mental constructs that Mamoru is capable of making. It's just a solid wall of 'Whatever lies beyond this point is none of your business'. That's all she says on the matter. Most of it, frankly, would be a waste of his time anyways.
The affection she feels from him does elicit a small smile from her, though the smile brings out the slight awkwardness in Homura's eyes. It's almost apologetic, or commiserative, regarding the situation that they currently find themselves in. She does allow it to leak that she has a very fierce affection for Mamoru as well, and that affection is undying.
Thoughts of Madoka cross her mind, some of them through the bond, and some of them are just always there. Homura would never say it, but even now her arms ache because the one who belongs in them isn't here. Her feelings for Madoka are intense, and there's a sense that Homura is actually holding back the full intensity of those feelings. There's also a sense that Homura could scare herself if she thinks on it too much. The lengths she'd go to for Madoka's sake.
Well, Mamoru knows how far Homura'd go for him. She'd go even further for her. There is a singular dedication there, and Homura has been in the grip of those feelings for so long that there's no doubt in her mind that they'll last forever.
She does also have an affection for Mamoru, and those feelings can truthfully be called 'love', but it's not even the same flavor of love that she has for Madoka. It's the the kind of love or kinship that one might have for a close friend, or someone who has been in the trenches with you. They've both been there for each other when they each needed someone to be there for them, they've both looked after each other, and saved each other's lives in very real ways. There's no distance or distaste that can ever break that.
The thought of marriage gets Homura to blush. Has Mamoru ever seen Homura blush before? Homura is almost a little too okay with the thought of that. In her defense, she's known Madoka for over 12 years.
As for the topic of their friendship, Homura's own feelings are... simultaneously accepting and sad. Mamoru found his brothers, and she isn't a part of that. Homura found Madoka, and he isn't a part of 'that. Sometimes friendships just drift apart, and it's not anything that either of them has done. It's not a matter of offence or even a lack of caring. It's just that life happens, and the factors that led to them being so close in the past simply aren't in place anymore. In a lot of ways, that's for the better, because some of those factors can be summed up as 'we were alone in very dangerous situations'.
She does miss it too, though. That's why she doesn't ever cut him off. That's why she shows up at his apartment from time to time. She's never truly ditched him as a friend, at least not emotionally.
The images of Kyouko elicit no response from her. At last not immediately. Metaphorically speaking, she 'listens' before she speaks, but when she does speak...
She digs into the deepest recesses of her mind, into times that never happened to anyone but her, into alternate histories that she herself has undone. Her intent is very simply stated, and very clear.
'Let me tell you about your new sister.'
A flood of images, from so many different timelines, all concerning one person: Kyouko Sakura. Images of her being threatening, of her being powerful, of her being outright scary and a force to be reckoned with. She was always a strong Puella, one who was territorial and often troublesome for Homura to deal with, but Kyouko had her reasons, and her pains.
Other thoughts flood in after, much of it things that Mamoru likely already knows. Stories she had heard of Kyouko's family, and what happened to it. There is no shortage of sympathy, sympathy that Homura often leaves completely unexpressed, so as to not impinge upon Kyouko's image or pride. Nor is there a shortage of understanding or acceptance. Kyouko doesn't deserve the things that happened to her, and whatever she did while lashing out in pain is just to be expected considering the weight she carried on her shoulders.
Which isn't to say that she often gets along with Kyouko, but one doesn't have to get along with a person in order to accept them.
But it doesn't end there.
After all of that said, Homura shows a different side of Kyouko Sakura. One who reaches out to her enemies, tries to get them to see things her way, not out of any ego or pride, but because she doesn't want them to cause themselves misery by clinging to false ideals. Sayaka Miki comes out as the strongest example, one who so stubbornly clung to a sense of justice distorted by the terribly high standards she held herself to. If anyone needed to hear what Kyouko had to say, it was Sayaka Miki.
There's a few images of Kyouko showing a softer, kinder side, but these often precede one of her untimely deaths, which Homura spares Mamoru the details of. However, the point of all of that, which she finally gets to, is as such:
'She was always going to open up to someone.'
It's not a guess. It's a knowing. Homura isn't the slightest bit surprised that Kyouko found a family to be with. The only things new to her are the fact that she got close to Mamoru, and the fact that she's survived long enough for her story to lead to something other than despair. Neither one of these things are bad.
Before Mamoru's hand breaks contact, there's a faint sense that Homura sees all of the other Puella Magi in a similar light. Sure, they may fight, but there's no hatred from Homura's side, and there never was.
The link ends, and Homura is using her voice instead of her thoughts. She smirks. "You're talking to me'' about alternate history?"
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. "If things were different, I would've been honored to accept, but I cannot be dedicated to you and we both know that. If I were to make such a commitment, it would be lie, and that would dishonor our friendship." She spreads her hands, shrugging her shoulders as her eyes open again. "This is best for everyone. This is right. It sucks that we don't see each other often anymore, but that's life. If you ever did need me again, you know I'd have your back."
Mamoru digests the new information -- some of it old; he'd seen Kyouko from time to time in the video that Homura showed them at the Walpurgisnacht meeting, he'd seen reflections or iterations of it in his knowing her here and now in the only timeline he's ever had; some of it guessed at or extrapolated; some of it new but unsurprising -- as fast as he'd given Homura what he wanted to show her. He also never thought Homura had any hate for the others, not real hatred, even in the other timelines' versions of them -- but it surprises him, a little, that it's not only because hate takes too much energy. It actively makes him happy that there's acceptance and understanding, and that that understanding is so thorough. It shouldn't, not with the amount of time she's spent with them, but it does.
There's a little amusement there, at that, because there are enough people that Mamoru only doesn't hate because hate takes too much energy. You're a better person than I am after all, is the observation, smiling, from the back of his mind. See?
The knowledge of what happened with Sayaka and Kyouko in pasts that have been erased -- on some level, that makes him unaccountably sad, especially given the fact that in this timeline, it ended. He is, as it happens, an incurable romantic... but he's always been the gentle, sensitive type.
There's a sense of agreement from Mamoru, though, regarding their own friendship -- agreement with a correction. Their friendship hasn't lessened, hasn't drifted. It's only changed some of its superficial configuration. He had hoped, from the time he saw the way Homura looked at Madoka, that she would get to have what she has now; he knew that things between them would change if she did, and he wanted that for her anyway. Everything is as it should be, and the wistfulness they both feel over the loss of the old configuration -- yes, that's pure agreement. It's okay. It's life. The base of their friendship will never change, even if some calamity should ever put them at odds.
They were alone, and they were together in being alone, and they found more common ground than either of them could ever have hoped for -- and the common ground only grew the more their lives drew them apart. And now neither of them is alone.
Mamoru's laugh is quiet as Homura lets go and speaks in return. "I was talking to you about your alternate histories," he clarifies with a tiny, crooked smile, and he reaches to crack open a couple of the beers, handing her one as he continues. "And I could never have asked you for a committment like that, because I get it. But I wanted you to know that that's why I didn't offer. It would have been jarringly obtuse of me, and incredibly selfish to boot. But I also wanted you to know, for sure, that I don't think of us as less close than myself and Kyouko. Just a different kind."
After all, there are many, many flavors of love -- and Homura's never been a little sister to him. Makoto is definitely his imouto. Kyouko is a strange cross between bro and non-imouto-kid-sister. But Homura...
"Like," he says, moving over to open the pizza and giving her a sidelong look that sparkles with mischief, "you're definitely my dearest onee-chan."
Hate does take energy. Energy that Homura doesn't like to waste. Yet it wasn't ever that she didn't have energy to hate them. She didn't have the emotional capacity to love them, especially not in the state she was in.
Better? Homura doesn't agree. She's done some really mean things. Yet love was never not her motive.
Homura's a little sad about things between Kyouko and Sayaka, but there's a sudden coldness there. 'Neither of them are dead or Witched, so it served its purpose.' Then she suddenly feels very awkward, and she pushes that line of thinking out of her mind before it could go much further.
Homura likes the thought of that, that their friendship hasn't gone away. Surely, it's there just as much as it's always been. The differences being superficial... puts it in a positive light that Homura finds easier to accept. It's not as if the fondness or trust have gone away, after all.
As for Homura, well, she certainly did have to change... but she's okay with that change. She's acting the way a proper magical girl should act. Her ruthless determination will never go away, but there's no reason not to temper that with her honest feelings.
Homura accepts a beer, taking a sip of it while glancing sideways at Mamoru. She has to struggle not to spit it out as she's called his 'dearest onee-chan', and instead snorts through her nose while smiling, and even giggling. "Well, that I did not expect, but I always considered you a brother, too. I'm not sure I'd call you a little brother. Both of us are older than we look. I don't mind considering you family even if I'm not one of the Shitennou."
She takes another sip, not drinking too fast because she gets drunk easily. "I agree, though. In general. With your actions, and your sentiment. It's good that Kyouko has a family."
With a smile, she says, "Thank you, also, for being happy for me."
Oddly-- in all of that-- there's a lingering rueful understanding over the cold thought of Kyouko and Sayaka. Homura pushes it away, so it goes unremarked, but there's no judgement: only agreement.
But back to the present, Mamoru's smirking at Homura's reaction to his titling of her, and he takes a sip of his own beer before removing a spectacularly cheese-string-connected slice of pizza. One of the slices with bacon and pineapple and ricotta, in fact. "Good," he tells her of the first, firmly, "because that's how I consider you. Not all my family is Shitennou, y'know. The senshi are, too. So is Naru."
There's only the slightest smile at Homura's approbation, but it's a warm and real one, even if it's around a mouthful of Hawaiian pizza. It gets a lot bigger at Homura's thanks, and he makes a concerted effort to chew and swallow in a hurry so he can say, heartfelt and fiercely affectionate, "That's all I've ever hoped for, for you. We always both wanted the other to find their princess, and find happiness with her! And we have-- and in any way I can, I'll do my best to help you keep that."
Homura takes another swig of beer, before setting it down to grab her own slice of pizza. It has bacon also, but with pepperoni and beef on top of that. Homura likes her meat, apparently. Part of her somewhat agrees with Kyouko's mindset, about them being predators, with Witches and now Wraiths as their prey.
In between bites, she remarks with a slight lilt in her voice, "If you're comparing me to the senshi and Naru-san, then I must be in good company." At the mention of each finding their princess, she smiles, and her smile is a wide one.
"Falling for the same girl three times has to be some kind of sign." She's counting their previous life in that. "I never thought for a second that you two weren't right for each other. Love that sweet should never be opposed."
She hesitates, for a moment, before speaking or eating, letting the cheesy slice of pizza hang from her hand, supported slightly at the tip from her other hand. "As for myself and Madoka-chan... well... I never thought that love could be this wonderful. If I knew, I'd have pursued it even harder. I don't think there will ever be anyone as close to me as she is."
She glances upwards, at the ceiling, in the direction of one of the upstairs bedrooms. "She has a room here, you know. Sometimes we even refer to this as 'our' house. She doesn't want to completely leave her family yet and I don't want her too either, but the thought of living under the same roof as her is..."
She trails off, and a second later she's eating another bite of pizza. Whatever words belong there, she was unable to find them. Yet from the soft, almost distant look in her eyes she looks maybe a little overwhelmed.
There is chomping pizza as Homura talks, but at the last, Mamoru leans over, grinning, and lightly pushes her shoulder with his non-greasy hand. "The future's so bright you gotta wear shades?"
He's laughing at her, but it's not mean at all; he's just as much happy for her as he's amused over her overwhelm. "You know, it is your house together, even if she also lives at home. Usa is a bit in the same situation -- she wants to come live with me, but at the same time, her family is so precious to her, and we're not adults yet. I gave her a promise ring... her dad demanded to know what it was. It's just that it means I'll ask her when we're old enough. And until we're old enough, she very much needs to stay with her family. She's so lucky to have her parents, parents she's so close to-- and as much as she can, she needs to be able to have that, to be able to finish being a child in any way still left to her in a life like this."
Mamoru smiles and looks down at his pizza. "In some ways, we're all of us older than we look. But in other ways, we're also all younger than we've had to be, all of us in different ways. Even you." He looks up again and the smile's predominantly in his eyes. "We all want the future, but we need the present to finish happening first. Just because you had to deal with the present for so long, over and over, and probably stopped believing you'd ever get that future, doesn't mean you need to rush to get to the rest of it. Even with the dangers you face, even with what could happen, you lose a lot if you rush. I know people say live every day like it could be your last, but then-- what if it's not?"
It takes a while before Homura to speak again, which is good because it lets Mamoru say what he wants to. She's looking off into the distance, and it may be unclear if she's even listening, but when she speaks it's clear that she heard every word.
"Yeah, that's about how I feel. I tried so hard to get one brief time right, and now that I have all I want is to see what comes next." She holds her hand out in front of her, with her soul gem ring on her middle finger. "I guess... in real ways, I consider these to be our promise rings. Both of us wished for each other. I didn't really think that she would for me. I didn't think I was that important to her... but I wouldn't be here if she didn't. After everything we've seen, I can't imagine a bigger sacrifice we could make for each other."
She lets her hand drop to her side, her pizza hanging out of her other hand. "I was wrong about her. I misunderstood things. I thought she regretted becoming a magical girl in previous timelines, but that wasn't the case at all. She can't truly be happy unless she's helping people, and I never fully understood that until she was inside my head and I could feel it from her. If it had happened any other way, I still wouldn't truly know how she felt."
Another sip of beer goes down, and she's looking at Mamoru again. "I always knew we had a lot in common. We both love our princesses so much. I'm not in any particular rush either, and I don't want to think of myself as an adult."
After he's done talking, then before Homura's talking and then while she's talking, Mamoru polishes off that slice of pizza and starts another, and also finishes that first beer. He's quiet otherwise, grave but mild, respectful as possible with the ingestion of pizza and beer.
It's only after a little bit that he has anything to say that Homura hasn't already, and when he does, it's quiet too. "Sometimes I forget how easy it is to misunderstand people you're close to. It bites me sometimes, and sometimes it's just frustrating watching it happen to other people, until I remember. And sometimes, even with what I can do, even with me doing it-- sometimes it's still hard to achieve understanding. Sometimes it's hard to understand that what you feel isn't what another person feels, that what you're afraid of isn't the same as what they are... and there's nothing wrong with that. It just means we have to work harder at it, and keep it in mind for the future. It's difficult not to dwell on what almost happened, or time wasted while pursuing the wrong thing, but once you get through it..."
He contemplates his beer, turning it around to regard the logo on the label. "Once you get through it, the best thing to do is learn from it and let it go, or it can eat at the happiness you have achieved, wasting even more time."
Then he looks up again and smiles. "Even once we are adults, though, we can still be jerks and have fun."
Homura laughs, mischievously as much as mirthfully. "You can bet we'll still have that. If following my heart pisses someone off..." she shrugs helplessly.
"I mean, I was only following what she said." Homura's a bit further behind on her first slice of pizza, having paused to think a few times. Though it does smell nice, and the realization of that does inspire her to eat at a bit more normal pace.
"... but when she said it, it was a moment of weakness, and I should have considered that maybe she didn't really mean the way I was taking it. I projected onto her a bit, and I didn't even realize that I was doing it until after the fact."
She stops talking long enough to eat a bit more pizza, reducing it to the crust which she then nibbles on. "It really okay, though. Because she knew what she was getting into, and no one tricked her, and since I've had enough time to train her I can be pretty sure that she won't be wasteful of her magic. She knows how much pain she was in when she thought she was losing me, so she finally knows how I'd feel if I lost her. I don't think Madoka-chan will be careless, knowing that."
She shrugs while chewing on a chunk of crust, and after swallowing she says, "Besides, all of its horrors aside, becoming a Witch was a learning experience. It's easier to sympathize with them when you know what they're going through."
Earlier, Mamoru nearly made Homura spittake.
Turnabout is fair play, even if ... well ... the content is not, not, not.
Instead of a graceful recovery from a near-spittake, though, Mamoru ends up getting beer up the back of his nose and practically burning fizz-holes in his sinus cavity. The beer gets set down really fast and napkins are grabbed for with astounding speed, but it's not quite in time; there's beer dripping down the inside of the hand held up in front of his face and there's now also beer on his shirt and his eyes are watering and he's trying not to cough because he knows it'd only make it worse.
In the middle of the emergency management, he does cough when he manages to croak out, eyes accusing and incredulous, "--you what??"
Homura watches Mamoru with a playful glint in her eye, though as he struggles to manage his sudden emergency she reaches over to the table and picks up a few napkins, which she hands to him.
Her tone gets a little more somber as she goes on. "It happened last Valentine's day. The night before, really. I had held on for twelve years trying to create a scenario in which Madoka survived Walpurgisnacht, and after the fact... well... I guess emotional exhaustion set in. My mind started going to very dark places. I started thinking that defeating Walpurgisnacht was pointless, because as long as Madoka cared about people there was always going to be a point at which she made a wish. She wished for the power to turn Witches back into Puella Magi, because she didn't want to only save me, but others too."
She finally finishes her slice of pizza, and then moves onto the next after a swig of beer. "She took my despair away, because that's what it took to save me. I suppose that's why I'm a bit more lively these days. Well, that and... you know... spending time with loved ones is nice."
She looks at him, a bit apologetically. "Sorry I didn't say so before. You were going through your own problems, and I didn't want to pile too much onto your back. You were still in the Dark Kingdom then, anyways. You might've liked my labyrinth. There was dancing, and cake."
...took Homura's despair away.
Even aside from the mess and the stinging eyes and nose and the plethora of napkins, and the coughing and the blowing his nose and coughing some more, Mamoru's quiet, Mamoru doesn't have any comment for that. He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know how to feel. Glad, yes, that Homura was saved and is safe, was saved by the one she loves and who loves her so very much-- there's no question of that. It's just not the only aspect of this.
He thinks back to last Valentine's day--
--and his mind shies away from what was happening then, twitches away from the memory of bright hair and a beautiful young face on the floor, writhing in agony while legions of silent evils watched; his mind closes itself off from the clawing darkness that held him bound within its depths, mostly unable to communicate, almost entirely unable to connect, and all his support stolen away.
His face is white, and he can't look at Homura.
She took Homura's despair away.
There's a brief memory of the two girls coming to visit himself and Kunzite at Jadeite's palace, while he hid from Fiore-- and the goddess Madoka had become-- and the ways that Homura has changed. It's all for the better, isn't it? The despair the Puella feel is a lethal poison to them, quick-acting instead of slow, and the choice to fight it is taken away from them at the fill of it because of what's been done to their souls. So Madoka doing that is a good thing, isn't it?
Dancing and cake...
...and that's the shape Homura's despair took.
He's glad his eyes are already stinging, already watering.
He thinks of the Wraiths and what they did to Naru, and the fury that was all she had left until he helped her rebuild herself, made sure that he didn't rewrite her but only gave her the power to fill in the blanks they left, herself. He thinks of what the Dark Kingdom did to him, gutting him, taking away everything but despair. He thinks of Kunzite asking him if it would be all right to accept Homura's and Madoka's attacks, absorb them, given the emotional content of them and how it might change him. He thinks of what despair did to Princess Serenity, and how uneasy Usagi is about that part of herself; he thinks about what nearing despair did to Minako; he thinks of Basu, he thinks of how many times he nearly lost Kyouko. He thinks of the look on Madoka's face when Dark Endymion shook her hand and there was nothing she was able to feel from him.
He thinks of the shape of Usagi's heart.
He thinks of fighting and fighting and fighting, and still losing, and still hoping until there was nothing of him left, and passing that hope to Kunzite for safekeeping.
He doesn't know what's worse, of what Homura's just told him-- how she was lost, or what it took to bring her back.
Finally he blows his nose again and gulps air down.
"I like cake," he finally says with a hoarse voice, unable to say anything else. "But I think I'm going to have to take some time to process this. I'm sorry. You can have the rest of the pizza, and the beer. I'll tag you for, for a tour, another time. I'm sorry."
When he finally looks up at her again, there's such a conflicting mess of horror and empathy in his eyes that it's clear he's estimating his cope correctly, and there's a quality to it that also makes it obvious he doesn't intend to draw away from her in any way. He just needs some time. "Thank you for telling me." That is heartwrenchingly honest, in a way that would be too private for anyone else to see.
Homura frowns, and then looks guilty, as she watches his reaction. She didn't expect this. Everyone else who saw or heard about it... well certainly they objected to it, even Mami did, but she had never seen any of them so... destroyed. Madoka might have been, but Homura never got to see her reaction.
Poor Mamoru, she thinks. He really is the gentle, sensitive type. Homura had underestimated just how much. Yet it also must mean that he cares, for it to hurt him so much.
She wants to say something to make it better, but... is there anything? If there's nothing she can say, is there anything she could do? She puts her beer aside, places the pizza on a plate, and leans into him and hugs him. All of her exposed skin touches his nerdy shirt, just to be safe. She doesn't seem to care that it has beer on it. She holds him, squeezing him tight, and then slowly draws back and away.
"Things really do suck sometimes... but this is what we do. We make things better, and things are better. What I've gained from that experience is something that I'd never have otherwise."
She looks into his blue eyes, with a soft, sad smile in her own. "I had to tell you at some point, and with things being as they are it might be a long time before I'd get another chance." Purple eyes go to his shirt. "Sadly, I don't have a shirt in your size. Otherwise I'd lend it to you."
She leans against the kitchen counter, hands behind her back. "... but yeah. Another time. I won't keep you, if you need to go."
Kunzite's said it more than once: he has a healer's heart. And the empathy-- well, he'd just said it himself, earlier. Sometimes he forgets, and it comes back to bite him when he thinks things are safe.
The hug does help him, though; Mamoru hugs Homura back, hard and almost desperate, and he's thinking about her and he's thinking about how she helped him when he was giving up even on what was almost a ridiculous thing, giving up on finishing the school year when he was hiding from the Dark Kingdom, because of how much danger it was putting the people he loved in. And he can't help thinking about how they were both right, in the end, with what happened with the rose youma.
And he's afraid.
And he's glad, for once, that the contact doesn't come with contact; this, as it is, is just what he needs at this moment.
When she draws back, his eyes are still reddened and his face still pale and a little blotchy, and it can still-- if only just-- be ascribed to his sinuses' objection to the introduction of beer. He lets out a messy laugh, dropping his arms. "It's okay. What are henshins for if not hiding the beer on your t-shirt?" he asks unevenly, his forced smile watery. "But no, it was a good time to tell me, anyway. While things are going well. It means I can deal with it now instead of putting it off. I'm sorry," he says again, and he takes a step back to scrub at his face with the backs of his hands, and he laughs again, sniffing inelegantly. "Gods."
He just breathes for a moment, eyes closed, then hugs his arms to his chest. "Yeah, I have to go. To Nephrite's, I think. The ocean is there." Blue eyes open, and the smile's less forced, even if the unsettled pain isn't well hidden, behind it. "I'll see you again as soon as we have a chance, nee-chan."
He doesn't henshin until he's out on the balcony and vaulting out of sight.
Homura doesn't do anything else to stop him from leaving, being very still as she leans against that kitchen counter, looking down at the floor. As he heads for the door, she says, "Thanks for coming, Mamo-kun. It was good to see you again. I'm always glad to see you, otouto-kun."
She says that with such sincerity, but they both know she's going to troll him with that later. Or maybe he'll troll her. Mostly likely is that they'll troll each other, when the mood is happier.
If he wants her to think that his reaction is due to snorting beer, she's not going to tell him that she suspects otherwise.
Afterwards she takes another slice of pizza, and starts to eat it, sitting down on the backless couch next to Amy, giving the now grown cat scritches and pettings.
"Well, that happened."