[PRP] Moving In

[Akira Midoriyama]

"Not much I didn't already suspect," he answered in what he hoped was a passive tone, though he absently tugged at his bangs as he glanced at Cory's car. "He's a good friend of yours, isn't he? What makes you think he'd tell a complete stranger anything about you that you wouldn't want me to or that wasn't necessary for me to know?" His brows furrowed. "Don't you trust him?" He snatched up the bag while Nate shut the door.  

[Suudonym]

"Because he likes to talk," he replied, his tone and movements sharp as he moved to the trunk and shook open a paper grocery bag into which he shoved stale and sometimes slightly moldy bread rolls and loaves. "They all do. Cory and Will and Ash and-- ********' Tony, shitty b***h-a** Nina, everyone. You don't know who those people are; I'll make it short: A bunch of people who insist on ******** psychoanalyzing and interpreting and pretending there's any reason to think I'm anything else but what I look like." He snapped open another bag. "It's bad enough that I've been hearing it from them for years, but then they're gonna turn around and fill up ******** strangers on that goddamn garbage-- s**t." The bag bit the thin red line of a paper cut into his finger, and he shook his hand bitterly before continuing his endeavor.  

[Akira Midoriyama]

"Hey, even I'd like to know I'm not going to get stabbed in my sleep," Akira said lightly, trying to smile a little. What he managed disappeared at Nate's list of 'friends'. The brunet stared at the excess of bread products that were shoved into the bag as he spoke. He certainly hoped the young man hadn't obtained them in that state.

"Just a minute - Nate, I'm not going to try to judge you or analyze you or anything like that. If your friends do, it's likely because they want to help you and learn more about you. But no one doubts that you know yourself better than anyone else and I'm not one to go on things I hear or see from anyone but the person themselves. Whoa, what happened?" He winced at the sight of the cut. "Aren't you going to wash that off?" Moving over to help Nate, he held his hand out for the bag. "Go see if you can find a bandage or something with Cory, or at least run that under some water. I don't care how small it is; it could get infected with all this trash around."  

[Suudonym]

"Talk s**t, get stabbed in your sleep, son; that's the way the world works. You keep that in mind, you can sleep nice and sound." If the words were a joke, it would be difficult to tell - his demeanor remained constant throughout.

"You might be surprised just how much people doubt that," he said, turning to gesture with the damaged finger pointing. "It's a paper cut, so no." He covered the sliver with his mouth briefly, clearing away the small amount of blood that had escaped. "There, good enough."  

[Akira Midoriyama]

"If that's the way the world works, then I probably would have been stabbed a hundred times over," he murmured, quickly adding, "though not necessarily by you."

Taking a slow, deep breath, he said, "Okay, you've got a point there. But how many people can say they know themselves one hundred percent inside and out, right?" He grit his teeth at the refusal to wash the cut, about ready to say something when Nate stuck it in his mouth, but eventually just exhaled. It was his cut; he could do as he pleased. "...You've got to admit that there might be some things they can see in or about you that you can't see for yourself."

Reaching into trunk, he moved to scoop up the last bits of food, garbage, and crumbs he could find before dusting off his hands over the paper bag. "No need to insult them for trying to help. I think you'd be surprised what people would give for friends like yours."  

[Suudonym]

"I'm not having this conversation," he replied curtly. "I may not know every single little detail, but I know a major fallacy when I hear one."

With most of the trunks' contents evacuated, Nate pushed the door closed and regarded Akira with a cool expression. "Your name is David," he declared. "It says David on your birth certificate, you write David on all your papers, you introduce yourself to others as David - that's just the way it is, and you never really felt like that needed to be questioned. But your friends, you know, they're good people, that's why you're friends with them, but one day one of them says to you 'hey… why do you call yourself David? You know your name is Greg, right?' And you're like the ******** it is! My name's David! But your friends are always leaning over your shoulder whenever you write David as your name on a test, saying 'hey… you spelled Greg wrong.' They introduce you to other people, they say 'hey… this is my friend Greg.'"

He put his hands in his pockets, his features unchanging. "Now you're getting pissed off. You don't even like the name Greg; it's a stupid name. You're David, you've always been David, and you always will be David. You tell them to stop, you're ********' not Greg. They say okay, okay, and they chill out with all the Greg. But every time you say your name is David, you can hear them sigh, you can see them shake their heads. Your girlfriend dumps you because she thinks your name is Greg. People you've never met before are suspicious when you say your name is David because 'you just really seem like a Greg.' And this whole time, years and years, you're just screaming. It's David. My ******** name is David. Try and tell me you wouldn't be fed up with it."  

[Akira Midoriyama]

While Akira had a little trouble understanding the hypothetical (at least he hoped it was) situation regarding talking s**t and being stabbed in his sleep for it, Nate had soon moved on to another. This one was somewhat longer and more elaborate, but it was easier for Akira to wrap his head around. He even felt as though he might have been able to relate to it in a certain sense.

"Alright, I get it," he answered at the end. "They mean well, but they don't know you. It affects your life and you're sick of being told what you are when you know you aren't. You don't like people getting preconceived notions from them of who you are because then they end up being unable to see you from any other perspective including your own. The fact that they don't think you know who you yourself are only makes it even less likely for others to take your opinion of yourself into account. Does that about sum it up, David?"  

[Suudonym]

He removed his hands from his pockets to cross his arms, abandoning the clinical sharpness for a more mellow tone of voice, "Yes. But if you think you're going to start calling me David, even from time to time as a joke, then I'm afraid we're going to have to return to the sleepytime stabbytime discussion."  

[Akira Midoriyama]

It took a second for him to contemplate the words before he laughed. "Ha! Don't worry, I'm not that cruel." Grabbing the paper bag in his free hand, he headed toward the dumpster with both bags of trash. "...Am I allowed to ask why you have so much stale and moldy bread?" he called over his shoulder.  

[Suudonym]

"I work at a bakery," he replied, kicking a fallen soda cup lid under the vehicle. "End of the day rolls around, they tell me to throw out the unsold excess - it gets thrown out, just not where they think it does."  

[Akira Midoriyama]

"Riiiight," he mumbled, turning to toss the bags into the dumpster. "Like the trash receptacle of your new apartment." Returning to Nate's car, he bent down and picked up the plastic lid. "So, you pick which room is yours, yet? Because if not, I'm just putting my things in whichever."  

[Suudonym]

He shrugged. "Most of it got eaten. It just doesn't last long." He returned his hands to his pockets idly. "They're pretty much the same far as I can tell, so whichever."  

[Akira Midoriyama]

"'Kay, so no preference of which is closer to the kitchen or the bathroom or whatever? No window view in particular, no concern over which one may be easier to slip in and out of at odd hours with least chance of notice?" Tossing the lid in the bin, he went over to Cory's car in case there was anything left to bring inside. "No worrying over which might be easier to escape from in the case of a fire, flood, or other disaster, natural or not?"  

[Suudonym]

"Nope," he replied curtly. "Although I kind of doubt flood is going to be a major concern. Now, serial killing burglars," he raised a hand to his chin, his eyes narrowed contemplatively, "that's something to worry about…"  

[Akira Midoriyama]

"That's your biggest concern?" Akira laughed. "Mine's girls. Especially certain girls in particular, because no matter where you move to, somehow there are those who always seem to be able to track you down." Glancing up at the apartment, he added, "First thing I'm going to have to do is plan an escape route."