Work Text:
Time always runs a little elastic in the studio, hours to seconds to minutes dripping past in a never ending stream. The speed changes, of course, depending on exactly how immersed you are in what you’re doing. Sometimes it’s just his toes dipping in, tips barely wet from his spot on the shore, while another half of the time it’s up to his knees at the very least, often more.
Today’s a bit of a day in between, hours passing slower once Shu switches from the task of actively nailing down functionality (binary to distinguish the collisions types, he eventually decides, watching the idea bloom to life in front of him) to pruning away at the smaller things, questions and emails to the respective leads and the like, things which all take at least twice as long as he plans them to and do absolutely no favours for his perception of time.
It’s like watching the tide roll out, still seeing the slightly damp line in the sand from where it used to be.
Shu’s about to indulge in the change in pace a little, maybe outline their newest marketing spiel because there’s always some new job cropping up, isn’t there? Regardless, there he is wrangling his windows and screens when Luca pops his head in the door. Their eyes meet somewhere in the frantic rush and Shu waves before turning back to his work.
That’s not the weird part. There’s nothing weird about it on the surface, both being constant fixtures in the office when they have the freedom to be there.
It’s just that Luca is still standing there frozen, not even coming in.
“Luca?”
He does step in after a while, but there’s something wrong with the picture. It’s the way his mouth is slightly open, eyes drawn like curtains in the breeze. It’s like sunlight filtered through the infinite ocean. He looks like a storybook rabbit, foot tapping on the carpet with rapidly fluctuating speed, and that’s all he does, tap tap tapping even as he flops onto the couch.
“You good?”
It could be many things. The heat, maybe, since summer’s hands keep coming back to fiddle with the ground beneath them. They can’t afford central cooling, so they try to make do with a bowl of cold water in front of a big box fan. Bad lunch? Sometimes the nearest empty place is an unfortunately distant trek away. He probably should have checked if Luca was free so they could have gone together.
“Are you sick of me?” Luca asks. “Or could be? Maybe not today, but some other day.”
“No. Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. It’s not fair,” Luca finally answers, a little petulant. “You were… I didn’t know that they could– I mean I always knew, but I didn’t really think about it. They’re taking you away from me. And maybe you want to go, too.”
Was there some sort of memo or meeting he missed today? Sure, he got a little lost in his head while tinkering earlier, but not enough to miss something big like that.
Luca is silly, often enjoys running with nonsense just to see how far it goes, but he’s rarely so blatantly wrong about something without a proper reason. His preferred currency is laughter after all, not guilt or malcontent or anything in between.
Besides, Shu has a feeling that if anyone was taking him anywhere, then he’d probably know about it. He’s been happily glued to his chair all day long.
“Taking me where?”
“I don’t know. Some farm or something, maybe. I heard Vox mention it in his lines today. Something stupid about cows and marriage.”
Vox’s lines. That’s right, they were both taking turns recording this morning. That’s why Shu took lunch alone today, eager to avoid disrupting the flow with any unwelcome noises. Maybe next time he’ll pop in anyway. It’s always nice to ask.
So it’s about the game, then.
Shu doesn’t remember anything about cows when it was his turn, but they could just be branching things out. He usually tries to avoid reading everyone else’s parts so he doesn’t confuse himself. What’s worth getting upset about anyway? It’s their script for their game, so they’re the ones writing the story anyway. Maybe not him exactly, but it’s not exactly a mystery who is. Luca should know that too, yet here he is, laid prone on the couch with a persistent wrinkle in his nose like he’s discovered something egregiously sour.
He’s pretty sure most people want to entertain the idea of romancing the NPCs anyway, not watch them fumble circles around each other just because you’re on someone else’s route, so something like marriage would never make the cut.
Luca’s voice is quiet though, much quieter than it would be if this was a simple case of embarrassment from saying something deliberately corny as they’re often made to do, so the responsibility falls onto himself to ease him down with a measured sort of generality, uncertain exactly what’s so bad or wrong.
There will be other quests anyway. Quests where they are the ones hiding out on tiny little farms and looking out at comets doing needlework from a quiet spot in the rafters.
“We aren’t married either, Luca. And I think I can survive a few cows. What are they gonna do? Turn me into grass? I’d be back before you know it.” Shu huffs out a bit of a laugh as if that will finally get Luca to unravel the joke, to reveal the hidden payoff, once he finally sees that little proof that someone out there truly gets it.
It’s not so much that he thinks that Luca is joking, but that he needs to leave things open for whichever direction Luca wants to take. He’s careful to cover his words with a measured sort of ease, barely even lingering on silly things that could easily give him pause like how the words married and Luca are gracing the same sentence.
“I know.”
Shu waits for more, expecting a longer conversation, but nothing else comes out. Instead, Luca simply turns his head and the sun takes its opportunity to gently cradle it, casting him in an echoing warmth.
It doesn't really make sense, but sometimes being with Luca means rolling with whatever whim he’s riding, and that comes with its own rules and logic. It makes enough sense if he knows that it’s coming from him, so that's good enough for today.
That’s just how things are sometimes.
There’s no need to chase down rabbit holes if he doesn’t want to talk.
Shu stares a bit at the soft golden light, at Luca’s hands bracing his cheek, and passes over his sweater without a word, gesturing its role as replacement pillow. They talk a bit about other things, safer things than whatever’s going on, normal things with known answers that skirt away from imaginary futures and things like marriage between people who are not him and not Luca but very well could be if you squint just right. Then, once he’s satisfied, he turns back to his blinking screen, letting everything else quietly wash away as the day trickles past.
-
Next time Luca’s slated to enter the recording room, script for some newly finished side stories just sent off to the printers, Shu finds himself a little curious. Not curious enough to hop in there, but curious nonetheless. Since he’s the one wrangling their architecture together, it’s usually up to someone else to set up all the audio files. He doesn’t get many chances to work with it and fewer still to even think about any raws that aren’t his own.
He’s always been more of a back-end guy anyway, which is exactly what he told Ike when he begged him to monitor for Luca once he finished his own lines. It’s a simple script, he had argued, and he only has to stay long enough for Ike to return with a very, very late lunch. Shu’s character had lines for the aftermath of the treasure hunt side quest, so Luca’s would have much of the same.
Shu agrees in the end, agrees without any argument really, because he was never going to refuse.
Their studio is not much of a studio at all, built on a middling budget for a project that’s funded primarily by passion instead of any real capital, but that’s what they call it anyway. The recording room is just a smaller section adjacent to the office with a set of shelves as a makeshift door, walls covered in foam padding and blankets and strips of mismatched carpets straight from their last foray into the nearest discount store. He’s pretty sure half their stock comes from all the graduating university kids who find it cheaper to dump all their temporary goods instead of finding a way to ship it all back to their real homes.
They spent a good chunk of money on the mic and the setup, so the rest is about as good as they can get. It works. They make it work. For big projects, promos and songs and the like, they sometimes try to rent a spot downtown, but it’s easier to just do the rough cuts here.
The point is that although he’s curious, and more than a little willing to avoid any needlessly grumpy Luca-related situations after last time, he never planned on actually sitting in for long enough for it to matter. Sure, the only finished lines he’s listened to in full have been Luca’s, since it’s a little awkward to go through his own and hear those cringeworthy words parroted back at him, but it’s not like Shu knows enough about his character to give him any real feedback should the need arise. He barely knows enough about his own when it’s his turn.
Besides, everything that spills from Luca’s lips sounds great to him, so he’s a little useless on the criticism front.
It’s usually Ike’s job for multiple reasons. He’s their own local writer, musician, and general extraordinaire.
Shu is their… everything but that, maybe.
He shouldn’t be here and yet here he is, headphones clinging to his ears as his back sinks into the peeling orange chair that's bound to fall apart soon. Some nearby lab guy wanted to toss out all his flame retardant stuff, so it became an unfortunate fixture in their makeshift studio.
There’s a small glass panel between the shelves, a formality for when they take turns monitoring, and Luca hums to himself as he barges in. Doesn’t even spare a glance his way since why should he? He carries himself like normal, which is a good sign.
Shu deflates a bit with a sigh as his nerves begin to cool, adjusting everything according to Ike’s very careful set of notes. He never goes so far as peaking the mic, but Luca has that bright, citrus sharp kind of voice that overpowers everyone else if he goes too hard. It’s easier to adjust and try to standardise things a bit from the beginning.
“You can do this,” he hears, a little string of mumbles and encouragement as Luca scribbles something on his script.
There’s a little metallic squeak as Luca raises the stand up to his height, a squeak punctuated by a big exhale. While Shu prefers bending down a little to read his scripts, Luca likes having it closer to eye level, so he has to raise it even more than normal to make up for the difference.
“Okay. I’m ready, Ike,” Luca says after a while, tone a little crisper and voice a little lower. Shu doesn’t bother to correct him lest it jolts him out of character. “Let’s get started.”
It is not a hard job. Luca makes it an easy one, wrapped up in an easy confidence that paints his words scarlet and silver. Instead of Luca, there stands the self-proclaimed captain of a stolen vessel. The greatest man on this side of the seven seas. The hero of the story, of course.
“I think your magic’s being blocked, which is the worst possible news because we have to rely on our wits. I’ll be fine, of course, but I’m not so sure about the rest of you lot.”
Luca slips into it like a second skin. He is so easily the person who believes himself to be, but isn’t necessarily, the main character at all times. He argues. Lies. Steals from everyone. Conjures flame in front of dragons to prove that he’s just as worthy as the whole lot of them. He even insists on being bound to the mast because if the ship’s going down, then so will he, as if his willingness to die translates to deserving leadership the most.
“We’re bursting in. The plan is to burst in. It’s plan B, for burst! Let’s go!”
Sometimes Luca pauses though, catching himself on a vowel or two, and says it all over again. It’s not surprising because in many ways Luca is as much of a perfectionist as he is a free spirit, always so critical of the things he produces.
“Let him go,” he tries, shaking his head. Then he says it again, letting his voice harden and then fracture a little more in the middle just to harden all over again. “Let him go. Take me instead, if you must. I’ll be more useful than that knucklehead anyway.”
Luca works very hard just to sometimes pretend like he’s barely done anything at all, all bravado and faint insecurity swathed in silk and splendour. That’s just the way he is.
“You didn’t really think I’d leave you, did you? I’m sure you’d grow so terribly bored all by yourself.”
It all goes so well that Shu stops looking back between the clock and the doorway every couple minutes, simply content to sit in for it. It’s fascinating in a way, watching Luca so clearly different yet so clearly in his element.
“Absolutely not.” Luca’s lips curl around a laugh. “You really thought you could steal from me? Try again next century, maybe. That ought to give you enough time to practise.”
After a while though, once they’ve switched from action-heavy segments to the aftermath and the unfortunate inevitability of acknowledging exactly what they’ve just done (write death letters and cheat death and draw out confessions and watch all those grisly unintentional bits play out in full), Luca’s ease begins to peter out a little. His tone fluctuates a little more than before, modulating between soft and too brittle, and he repeats every other line while trying to regain his bearings. He sounds like he’s still on the ship, still careening as the ocean batters the hull.
“I’m sorry,” he tries, a little wheezy. Then again. Then again. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t even get to the other half, the slightly outraged yet subdued ‘Wait. Did you just trick me into talking about my feelings?’
Luca continues on like that for a while before calling for a much-needed break, grabbing a bottle of water and taking steady sips. He paces a little and the action is rendered so small through the distance between them, each step barely an eyelash apart. Drinks. Breathes. Resets his mind.
It’s all been very smooth so far and Luca won’t really need any help on his break, hasn’t really needed any the whole time, so Shu busies himself by looking through his pull requests instead. Ike still hasn’t shown any signs of returning, but it’s nothing he can’t handle so far, so there’s no need to worry.
Even though they’ve talked it through a hundred times, someone has still neglected to change their automatic format settings, so he has to manually discern which line changes were actual updates to the code and which were just modifications of whitespace and braces. Or rather, he doesn’t have to, strictly speaking, but it’s easier to just go along with it sometimes to get a rough idea of what’s changed before trying to fix it all at the end. Better to know it works before worrying about conformity.
Updated movement system, done.
Rotation in radians, not degrees, so it has to be converted if they’re going to use it like this.
No changes to the drawing code, thankfully.
The crinkle of plastic rings out loudly for a second before Luca, always so noble and careful with his hands, moves it away from the mic. Hopefully the water should help with his throat, if that’s what’s been throwing him off.
Someone else forgot the documentation on some of their helper functions, so he sends a gentle reminder to be diligent about that before sending anything off for approval. It looks good though, other than that. That’s just good practice for a healthy code base. Mutual understanding. Good communication.
Shu barely acknowledges the second, slightly louder crunch as Luca scrunches up the empty bottle in his hands, unceremoniously tossing it in the bin in the corner.
He just lets him be for a while, content to give him the space to work through it on his own because that’s what he likes best. Sometimes Luca turns to scratch out more notes and try different intonations to start out a line, humming when he settles on one that he likes.
“Just think about Shu. You’re saying it to Shu, okay? Come on. You can do this.”
There’s a little slapping sound that follows right afterwards, Luca’s fingers squishing his own cheeks, and he’s not sure if it’s that or the sudden call of his name that startles him first.
Then, while he’s still trying to convince himself that maybe it was just a dream, Luca says it again.
The muttered sound of his name– his real name, not his character’s, because it was a group mission anyway even if the scene was never going to be about that– spins wildly around his head. It mirrors his quickening breath. Through it all, Luca has not given a single indication that he knew he was here. It’s a quiet sound too, trailing off midway through. Much too quiet to be something directed at his spot by the booth, which means it was all for himself.
That makes his heart lurch a little harder. Luca doesn’t even know that he’s here and yet there they were, words said softly in his normal voice for nobody’s benefit but his own.
If it helps him slip into character, then it’s perfectly fine, right?
It’s fine.
Maybe this part too, like the flubbed deliveries and poorly paced phrases that’ll be cut come tomorrow, are things his ears were never meant to know, but before he can linger on the thought Luca gives him the okay to start again, so he does. Dutifully. Casually, even. Because this, at least, is something he understands how to do without overthinking it.
What comes after this? Luca had just finished a teasing exchange about fraying maps and compasses and who’s at fault for the failed conclusion of their weatherworn quest, so his next line should be the one about how–
“You are my treasure,” he hears, though how it rings so loud and clear over the rush of blood in his veins remains unclear. “Give me your hand.” There’s a slight rustle and a pause. “You see? Look at this. You and me. I don’t need anything else to be happy.”
The round syllables curl gently around his tongue. Luca’s voice is achingly soft around every word, millions of times more at ease than just minutes before, and through that tiny glass panel Shu can see the colossal warbling smile that’s adorning his lips. His face is just like his words. His hair and heart are all so incandescent from that little distance away, a beautiful picture painted in shy, sloping strokes.
It's supposed to be a line directed towards the player, a little moment of vulnerability to make you feel like you're still winning something in the wake of your failure, but the longer he thinks about the words and Luca’s honeyed enunciation, the casual way he said his name just moments before dropping this, the warmer he feels.
Does he do this a lot? He knows that’s a big thing, thinking about something sad to act the part better. That sends him into a whole new tizzy though. If an imaginary Shu is the catalyst for such softness, then what does it mean for the version of him sitting here now?
It’s not so much the words themselves as it is the intention behind them. Their inclusion in his pep talk.
Shu was definitely not supposed to hear this.
Not supposed to hear it and know and suddenly, under the volcanic light of their terribly bright LEDs that are supposedly going to lower the electric bill enough to make a real difference, he realises what Luca probably meant before.
(“But you were so mean,” he had said once, whining about the uselessness of things like creating purposefully bad endings as they melted into the couch. Luca’s hair was still up, pinned haphazardly out of his face from when they were finishing up their individual recordings. “Don’t people play games ‘cause they’re fun?”
And then, like a few times before, Shu shrugged it off with a laugh because of course his character was mean. That’s what made it a bad ending.)
Those conversations, his nonsensical petulance and jealousy, the pieces all fit a little neater now that he can see the whole picture. It’s the realisation that's central to it all, the newfound knowledge that Luca’s feelings fountain from the thought that he was there somehow, his being inexplicably weaved into the thicket.
It was never about the part he played, never about his lines or his character, but the idea that the Shu in his mind that was tinder for such fire and all those startling clear confessions was somehow abandoning him. That to play the role of the once-again castaway captain is to become the deserving recipient of that ire.
It was about confronting that possibility to grab hold of the resulting emotions.
The thought that maybe he wouldn’t feel quite as much for Luca as he did for him.
When he thinks about it that way, he can understand his reluctance a little. If even that much is hard to grapple with, then how could you stand to brave against the real thing?
And now, instead of seeing Luca lovingly donning the familiar mask of his character, all Shu can see is a Luca who doesn't know nearly how much he means to him beyond the obviously stated and heavily implied. But he can do something with that.
He can take the first step.
When Ike eventually comes to relieve him, apology in hand, Shu tiptoes out, determined to set things straight. He doesn’t have to wait very long anyway, or maybe he did, but it doesn’t feel very long with so much to think about. It’s his fault too for always going along with it. For not asking sooner.
“You did great today, Luca.”
Something in Shu settles at the sight of him. It’s nice. Luca too, though unaware of his turmoil, gives him a winning smile when he rounds the corner. He doesn’t look strange or surprised, just happy, which is good.
The hallway is long and large once they leave the studio. Less large, perhaps, since they’re side by side down the length of it. In truth, they can only afford to occupy one of the rooms, so the others are lined with neatly printed signs and warnings for everyone else’s pet projects. Eye protection required. Please keep lab doors shut at all times.
Shu closes, but doesn’t lock, the door behind them. “I heard what you said in there.”
“Did you like it?” Since Luca’s already a few paces ahead, it’s easy to see when the back of his neck flushes slightly pink.
That says a lot more than any of his words.
“‘Course I did.” Shu dashes and catches up, clapping him on the back. “But I meant I heard what you said about me. During the break? Ike asked me to cover for him.”
“Oh. Ohhh . You heard all that? I'm really sorry if I... if it made you uncomfortable.”
“No, you– No, it was nice,” Shu interrupts, opting to douse the little fire first. “Unexpected, but nice.”
Luca rambles at double speed, eyes settling somewhere safe between his nose and his cheeks. “Really? It’s just less embarrassing to say that stuff if I have something to focus on. Something more real. So, yeah. Usually it’s you if I need to sound serious. But, um, if you’re not okay with that, then I can stop. Never really thought about how weird it may be for you, which is crazy because it’s literally you I’m imagining, not like, some weird caricature of you– not that that would be better or anything! Is it still weird? Sorry.”
Shu looks at him, really stops and properly looks at him. Luca stops too once he notices, which means he stops right away. He looks down at his hands as if trying to decipher what Shu could possibly be so interested in.
“I just– I thought about it a lot afterwards. What you meant. How I feel. What you know about how I feel. I like you a lot, Luca. I wasn’t sure if you knew, but I decided to be completely honest. Because I do. Like you. And I don’t think it’s weird.”
Sometimes it feels like Luca’s smile and warmth titter around him like a wholly separate creature. When he steps closer and closer, they do too, all golden sun and infinite energy. They burn.
But then, like someone who may try to smite a dragon, Shu has always relished in that fiery feeling. It is something he bottles close to his chest. There are so many reasons why they are so easily and often found together.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Luca laughs, hand reaching out for his. “I like you, too.”
-
The next time Shu’s in the recording booth, it's full of thoughts of Luca as these pretty words tumble out like flowers. It is easier, admittedly, to get in the right headspace to slip into character if he starts somewhere close to what he should be feeling. Exasperated for the rivalrous bits. Immeasurably fond for the softer ones.
It’s an effective starting point and Shu soon emerges pink-faced and chock-full of praises of how good he sounded this time, how raw and real it seemed to be.
Luca was wrong about one thing though.
It’s way more embarrassing if he thinks about Luca while he does it.