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nyanderenekoWord Count: 1,178
Summary: Nova attempts to offer Mordecai the kind of support he’s always rejected, that he feels obligated to ignore, and he discovers that for the first time someone may actually be getting through to him.
*Author’s Note*: Just a short, sweet little thing for me and Mordecai. I always want to expand our relationship and write about him more, but for some reason coming up with something useful is a little difficult for me. But this turned out nicely, so that’s all that matters! Also, I mention being “human” in here because…I mean, in terms of the universe, the characters don’t actually consider themselves cats and stuff, so. Just go with it lol, but they’re still very much their furry selves. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!
Mordecai wasn’t used to sharing anything with anyone. Not his feelings, his opinions, his doubts. Of course, he also wasn’t the type to beat around the bush when it came to something he found absurd. He would denounce it without pause, and occasionally suffer minimal scolding for his attitude. But it was always easier to deal with that kind of response, with something so inconsequential and meaningless to him. Sometimes, even the words that came from the few people he actually held in high regard were petty and inconsequential to him. He’d never engaged in much self-reflection about why he thought this way, since it had never really bothered him. He’d adapted this behavior as a benefit to himself…and now it seemed like she was trying to undo all of that.
“You don’t have to deal with everything alone,” Nova would tell him, wrapping an arm around him only after she’d received his permission. Why wouldn’t he want to do that, though; deal with everything by himself, that is? It had always worked just fine for him, kept him from getting bogged down by sentimentality or caught up in the same mental snares that others found themselves falling prey to right and left. There didn’t seem to be any advantage to relying on someone, to sharing a burden with someone…and if nothing else, that sounded more like making trouble for the other person.
“I’m not dealing with anything. You don’t have to worry.” She knew that was a blatant lie, squeezing his arm as she nudged him closer.
“I’d be more worried if you weren’t actually struggling,” she admitted, although he wasn’t sure he wanted to meet her gaze just yet. “Because the kinds of things you do, the kinds of problems you manage…they’re dangerous. And I know you know that, but…I mean they’re dangerous in a lot of ways. And they pose a threat to more than just you. And you take things so seriously because you know what’s at stake, and I respect that. But I know that kind of stuff can weigh on you, and take a toll on you, too.”
“I never thought I gave off any such impression of weakness or fatigue,” Mordecai pointed out, hands clenching a bit.
“It’s not weakness…although it would also be more concerning if you didn’t get tired. You’re only human, so of course you get tired, worn out. Everyone does. Everyone needs time to recuperate…and even if they don’t need it in the same way, they also need support.”
“I don’t need anything like that,” he defended stubbornly. “I never have. I’ve always done just fine making my way on my own.”
“But Mr. May is the only reason you’re still here today.” Her words were an uncomfortable reminder. “You needed his help to make it this far. You needed someone’s help. And now…I want to offer you what I can. Because I care about you. Because I want to be here for you.”
He sighed, unsure of how to respond. How did he really feel about her confession, about her proposal that he accept her aid? Her…consideration. Before giving it adequate thought, she ran her fingers through his bangs. The sudden gesture startled him, and her following one only further exacerbated his confusion. Removing her hand, she pressed her lips to his forehead, an intimate and soothing act that neither of them were quite sure how to comprehend. It had happened, and it made both of them feel a certain way, one that was undeniably good…but it also jumbled up their thoughts for a moment.
“You don’t have to tell me everything,” she murmured, leaning back a little. “You don’t even have to be specific. But I think…you should let me help you, when I can. If you think I can, if you think you want me to. I believe it would help us both feel better…if not, you can stop at any time. You can stop for any reason, actually. I’m not trying to trap you. I just want you to know that you have options. And you have more people that care about you than you know. People that want you to be happy and safe…even if you think those things are, have been, and always will be out of your reach.”
They still felt out of reach, even as she offered him such gentle affection. There was still a disconnect, a struggle deep within him to understand and appreciate what she was saying. He’d distanced himself from these kinds of emotions and opportunities for so long…for as long as he could remember, as long as he’d been doing this job—or at least, jobs like it. But for the first time, because of her, he was beginning to think he might actually want to gain a better understanding of these things. Maybe the impulse to reciprocate existed somewhere in the midst of all the internal chaos he had yet to sort out. It was much too early to tell, much too soon for him to even realize that he wanted to strive for any such feelings in the first place.
“I’m…relieved to have your support,” he finally managed to get the words out, although just forming them was a feat on its own. “Thank you. For being kind.”
She scoffed, and he regarded her curiously; had he said something wrong? “I don’t know if I’d call it kindness. I can’t help myself…in some ways, it’s pretty selfish. Because I only really want to offer these specific feelings to you. And you’re not even sure you want them. I guess we’ll both just have to wait and see.”
She shrugged, and he took her hand in his. Both of them were caught off guard again, despite the fact that he was the one who’d initiated things, and before the whim and his resolve could fade, he tenderly kissed the back of her hand. She thought she might pass out, or perhaps jump out of her skin. She didn’t know if he was just following advice he’d read somewhere or was attempting to emulate an imaginary exchange he’d seen or heard about before. But regardless of his intent, he’d still done it, and he didn’t apologize or try to act like it hadn’t happened once the moment passed. He wasn’t going to take his feelings or his actions back. He wasn’t going to try to pretend they weren’t there or say they didn’t exist like he’d been doing for so long. Maybe they really hadn’t existed before, and she was just the first one to ever show him that he wasn’t hopeless…he could experience similar emotions if he tried. Or if the right circumstances arose.
“I’m glad I have you, too, by the way,” she spoke up, and he still found it difficult, nigh impossible, to look at her. “I hope one day I can actually make knowing me worth it.”
Not yet prepared to confess this particular sentiment with sincerity, Mordecai chose to mutter the words to himself under his breath: “It already is.”
Summary: Nova attempts to offer Mordecai the kind of support he’s always rejected, that he feels obligated to ignore, and he discovers that for the first time someone may actually be getting through to him.
*Author’s Note*: Just a short, sweet little thing for me and Mordecai. I always want to expand our relationship and write about him more, but for some reason coming up with something useful is a little difficult for me. But this turned out nicely, so that’s all that matters! Also, I mention being “human” in here because…I mean, in terms of the universe, the characters don’t actually consider themselves cats and stuff, so. Just go with it lol, but they’re still very much their furry selves. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!
_____
Mordecai wasn’t used to sharing anything with anyone. Not his feelings, his opinions, his doubts. Of course, he also wasn’t the type to beat around the bush when it came to something he found absurd. He would denounce it without pause, and occasionally suffer minimal scolding for his attitude. But it was always easier to deal with that kind of response, with something so inconsequential and meaningless to him. Sometimes, even the words that came from the few people he actually held in high regard were petty and inconsequential to him. He’d never engaged in much self-reflection about why he thought this way, since it had never really bothered him. He’d adapted this behavior as a benefit to himself…and now it seemed like she was trying to undo all of that.
“You don’t have to deal with everything alone,” Nova would tell him, wrapping an arm around him only after she’d received his permission. Why wouldn’t he want to do that, though; deal with everything by himself, that is? It had always worked just fine for him, kept him from getting bogged down by sentimentality or caught up in the same mental snares that others found themselves falling prey to right and left. There didn’t seem to be any advantage to relying on someone, to sharing a burden with someone…and if nothing else, that sounded more like making trouble for the other person.
“I’m not dealing with anything. You don’t have to worry.” She knew that was a blatant lie, squeezing his arm as she nudged him closer.
“I’d be more worried if you weren’t actually struggling,” she admitted, although he wasn’t sure he wanted to meet her gaze just yet. “Because the kinds of things you do, the kinds of problems you manage…they’re dangerous. And I know you know that, but…I mean they’re dangerous in a lot of ways. And they pose a threat to more than just you. And you take things so seriously because you know what’s at stake, and I respect that. But I know that kind of stuff can weigh on you, and take a toll on you, too.”
“I never thought I gave off any such impression of weakness or fatigue,” Mordecai pointed out, hands clenching a bit.
“It’s not weakness…although it would also be more concerning if you didn’t get tired. You’re only human, so of course you get tired, worn out. Everyone does. Everyone needs time to recuperate…and even if they don’t need it in the same way, they also need support.”
“I don’t need anything like that,” he defended stubbornly. “I never have. I’ve always done just fine making my way on my own.”
“But Mr. May is the only reason you’re still here today.” Her words were an uncomfortable reminder. “You needed his help to make it this far. You needed someone’s help. And now…I want to offer you what I can. Because I care about you. Because I want to be here for you.”
He sighed, unsure of how to respond. How did he really feel about her confession, about her proposal that he accept her aid? Her…consideration. Before giving it adequate thought, she ran her fingers through his bangs. The sudden gesture startled him, and her following one only further exacerbated his confusion. Removing her hand, she pressed her lips to his forehead, an intimate and soothing act that neither of them were quite sure how to comprehend. It had happened, and it made both of them feel a certain way, one that was undeniably good…but it also jumbled up their thoughts for a moment.
“You don’t have to tell me everything,” she murmured, leaning back a little. “You don’t even have to be specific. But I think…you should let me help you, when I can. If you think I can, if you think you want me to. I believe it would help us both feel better…if not, you can stop at any time. You can stop for any reason, actually. I’m not trying to trap you. I just want you to know that you have options. And you have more people that care about you than you know. People that want you to be happy and safe…even if you think those things are, have been, and always will be out of your reach.”
They still felt out of reach, even as she offered him such gentle affection. There was still a disconnect, a struggle deep within him to understand and appreciate what she was saying. He’d distanced himself from these kinds of emotions and opportunities for so long…for as long as he could remember, as long as he’d been doing this job—or at least, jobs like it. But for the first time, because of her, he was beginning to think he might actually want to gain a better understanding of these things. Maybe the impulse to reciprocate existed somewhere in the midst of all the internal chaos he had yet to sort out. It was much too early to tell, much too soon for him to even realize that he wanted to strive for any such feelings in the first place.
“I’m…relieved to have your support,” he finally managed to get the words out, although just forming them was a feat on its own. “Thank you. For being kind.”
She scoffed, and he regarded her curiously; had he said something wrong? “I don’t know if I’d call it kindness. I can’t help myself…in some ways, it’s pretty selfish. Because I only really want to offer these specific feelings to you. And you’re not even sure you want them. I guess we’ll both just have to wait and see.”
She shrugged, and he took her hand in his. Both of them were caught off guard again, despite the fact that he was the one who’d initiated things, and before the whim and his resolve could fade, he tenderly kissed the back of her hand. She thought she might pass out, or perhaps jump out of her skin. She didn’t know if he was just following advice he’d read somewhere or was attempting to emulate an imaginary exchange he’d seen or heard about before. But regardless of his intent, he’d still done it, and he didn’t apologize or try to act like it hadn’t happened once the moment passed. He wasn’t going to take his feelings or his actions back. He wasn’t going to try to pretend they weren’t there or say they didn’t exist like he’d been doing for so long. Maybe they really hadn’t existed before, and she was just the first one to ever show him that he wasn’t hopeless…he could experience similar emotions if he tried. Or if the right circumstances arose.
“I’m glad I have you, too, by the way,” she spoke up, and he still found it difficult, nigh impossible, to look at her. “I hope one day I can actually make knowing me worth it.”
Not yet prepared to confess this particular sentiment with sincerity, Mordecai chose to mutter the words to himself under his breath: “It already is.”