2019-11-15 - New Friend

Mason is busking--his primary occupation. His guitar case is set up beside him, lined in red and seeded with a few dollar bills and some change as he sits on a blanket on the grass playing 'Kuala Lumpur' by Kevin Devine and singing. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGHYTWYnQOg) He's pretty good. Daily constant practice will do that for you. The weather is nice enough--hard to busk in the rain after all. And Mason seems more or less in the groove.

Addy's quiet and calm on this clear day, dressed in a ratty sleeveless vest that barely manages to hold what looks to be half a dozen half-ripped shirts and tank tops underneath against their body. A faux-leather travel backpack in slightly better condition hugs firm against their back, the left side swaying with an attached--and barely held together--ukelele case, while the other holds their shoes. Their attention seems to be on everything /but/ the attractions in the park. On the grass, on the trees, on the northwestern sky. It isn't until the music hits them that their gaze turns to Mason and a smile creeps onto their face. Barefoot, they soak up the grass with each step as they make their way to where he plays, pausing for a moment to listen in front of him before abruptly dropping onto their ass, legs criss cross beneath them.

Mason decides, once the song is over, that it's a good time for a break anyway. He sets the guitar down by the case, and looks to Addy. It takes a moment for him to realize, but it seems he's lost his voice again, so he just gives a small wave and reaches out to shake their hand, happily enough. After the nervousness passes his voice returns to him and he finally says, "Mason." He reaches into the backpack beside him, pulling out a bowl and a lighter, then a small bag of weed and a grinder, setting out the business of grinding and packing as he looks around. Then lights the bowl, takes a hit, and offers it over to Addy if they want. "Nice day." He blows smoke out slowly, then makes a small smoke ring, which dissipates quickly in the wind.

Addy doesn't seem to be particularly in a rush for that introduction--in fact they seem completely comfortable with the silence altogether, Mason's wave met with a bright, friendly smile. All teeth and absolutely no shame. They reach out to offer a light shake of his hand and slowly lets their arm drop into their lap as they return to quiet. "Addy," they say just as easily as the smile they give moments before, shoulders shifting alongside the introduction as they pull their backpack off of their back, "You have a lovely voice, Mason. I don't have any money, but maybe you'd like some dried fruit I made?" A glance is given to the offered bowl, but Addy offers back a judgement-free shake of their head, hands instead returning to the large flap that covers the main pocket as they withdraw a large, sealed metal tin with the word 'DUREX' protruding from the lid.

Mason pulls out some bills, about $10, offering it to Addy easily. "Here. Now you'll have some. But yes. To the fruit." He shrugs, taking another couple hits to quickly finish off the bowl he packed, and puts his stuff away again, stretching out his wrist and hand to avoid carpal tunnel. "If my voice sounds good, it's just all the practice I get. That's when I even have a voice. Sometimes I don't."

When that bill comes out, Addy's lips burst into another smile, head dipping down thankfully as they reach out to accept it. There's no hesitation or attempt to dissuade, just an earnest, grateful nod of their head as they slip the bill into one of their vest pockets. "I sing a lot," they start as they remove the lid of their tin and reveal a pair of plastic-wrapped bundles of dried fruit, dates on one side, mango on the other, both tied off with ratty red twine, "I'm not very good, but I don't really mind. I don't really sing for people anyway." Their attention fixes on the different fruit for a moment before they flash a glance back up to Mason, shove the tin towards them, and beam another bright smile as they turn it from side to side, "Pick. Why does your voice go away?"

Mason takes the mango, and shrugs. "Just does. Selective mutism. When I get overwhelmed, it leaves. And I'm like...Well, like The Little Mermaid I guess. Like Ariel. I sign, but that only helps of someone else happens to also know sign language." He shrugs. "At least I can play guitar. I can still make music even without my voice." He takes a bite, no real hesitation--someone in his position can't really afford to be picky about food, after all. He shrugs. "There's worse things. I could completely lose touch with reality. I never understood that though because how would you know if you have? If everything still feels real?"

Addy sems completely satisfied with that choice, immediately setting the tin to the side before leaning forward to take a piece of the dried mango for themselves. "Maybe it just needs a break," they start, taking a tiny bite with an accompanying breath, "I wish more people could sign. That'd be much easier." One hand is drawn up to take another bite of mango while the other slowly and inaccurately signs out something similar to "Hello Friend," opposite thumb immediately pulled across their lips as they wiggle their fingers in playful greeting. "If it feels real," Addy finally adds as they reach over to pull a metal water bottle from where it's attached to their backpack, the entire thing covered in faded band stickers, "It is real."

Mason smirks. "That's the problem I guess. Sometimes. The unreal things are real." He breathes out, slowly, trying to keep himself calm. He shakes his head. "Not making any sense. But you might know. You stand out against the gray background of the world. Splashes of color like paint thrown against a wall. So you probably know that some dreams are real. Not all of them are bad, either." He looks over. "What's Addy short for? Addington?" He gestures around. "Like the park?" He grins. "Is this your park?"

Addy holds a quiet look of understanding even as Mason claims to not make sense, their right hand shooting out to press fingertips against the man's knee, "You make sense. Maybe not--not exactly the way you want to, but it makes sense." Withdrawing their hand, they undo the top of the water bottle with a click and take a restrained sip, holding it out to Mason relaxedly afterwards. "It's not really short for anything," they start, shaking their head as they look around at the park itself, "Could be Adam, could be Adelaide. Depends on the day. Depends on the time of day." Addy takes a breath in through their nose before refocusing on the man, "Not Addington, though. The park doesn't belong to me--but the park doesn't belong to anyone."

Mason takes the bottle and takes a sip, scooting closer to Addy. "I get that. I'm kinda genderfluid. Hard to describe to people. Male mostly, because it's easier, but I don't always feel male, or female, or anything. Just in the middle a lot." He passes the bottle back, and kinda shoulder bumps into Addy intentionally, laughing a little after. "You're interesting."

"I understand," Addy offers back easily, eyes holding firm on Mason's face as he scoots closer, "I am too. Usually. Really I just--erm, I just /am/. It's been a long time since I've thought about it too much." Another breath has them leaning forward, elbows on thighs, as they readily and relaxedly lean into Mason's shoulder after the bump--seemingly content to linger there as they turn their attention back down to their tattooed arms. "Thank you," they offer back as their left index finger traces from a rather crude stick-n-poke to the beginnings of a vine that's clearly professionally done, "You looked interesting, too. And are. I just got off a bus and wanted to see the park, do you spend a lot of time here?"

Mason nods. "Here or on the boardwalk. I busk a lot." He considers. "Occasionally couchsurf, or I would if I knew anyone here who was willing. I did stay with a guy at a hotel room for a couple days." He shrugs. "I hang out in the Waffle Shoppe a lot at night these days, to beat the cold. And just. For waffles. Sleep during the day wherever I can, sometimes here under a tree out of the way. But I gotta busk while people are about so my sleep schedule is a bit weird. C'est la vie." He leans into Addy, and puts an arm around them--a casual side-hug. "It's not so bad here. I've been lots of places. Maybe I'll finally get my shit together here." He smirks.

"I'll have to see the boardwalk," Addy speaks quietly, not quite a murmur, but definitely to themselves, right hand flicking up to press index fingertip against their lower lip. Even as their attention drifts back off to the grass and the trees their focus never leaves Mason beside them, head dipping periodically into small nods of understanding as they continue tapping away at their lip. "Is your shit not together?" they ask, finally looking back fully--if only for a moment, "Seem pretty together to me. I move around a lot too. This place has a lot of trees, lots of nooks and crannies, it'll be nice finding places to sleep. And places to be."

Mason laughs. "I dunno. One day I wanna be able to be around people without making their lives worse by existing near them, is all. I make people sad. And like, realistically I don't think I can hold down an actual job and apartment or whatever. I mean most jobs you need to be able to talk reliably and handle stress." He breathes out slowly. "Maybe I'll just go live in a forest somewhere in a treehouse. Become tarzan." He smirks. "It's weird, right? I'm like...on the outside of civilization proper, but not willing to leave it entirely. Maybe it's foolish to pretend I can actually find friends who are like...inside...when I'm outside. I don't know." He shrugs. "I'll probably never be 'inside'. And even if I were I'd just feel out of place."

This time when Mason starts Addy's attention turns back to him fully, their head canting slightly to the side as they reach up and press their hand back against their cheek. There's no judgement in their face as they listen, just quiet contemplation, eventually capped off with a shallow breath into their nose as their attention turns back to the grass in front of them. "You haven't made my life worse by existing near me," they eventually start with another immediate, bright smile, "And I think living in a treehouse in the forest sounds positively lovely. Maybe you'd end up liking it too." With a pause they drag their fingers slowly over their mouth, down their chin, and quietly fold their hands back down into their lap. "You don't know where you wanna be," they offer, though it's less a question and more a statement, as they look back to Mason proper, "Do you really know where you are?"

Mason considers the question, looking down for a moment, then off to the side. "Gray Harbor. A weird place." He looks back to Addy and shrugs. "If you mean like. In my life or something, I don't know. I've honestly spent so long running I can't even tell anymore who I am much less what I'm doing and where. Mostly I try to connect with people and mostly that turns out not to work for one reason or another. Then I leave and try again somewhere else. This place is weird though. More dreams." He looks around. "Not in one now at least. Probably."

"You could be," Addy responds with another grin, their previous question's weight fading as they lean forward to grab the bag of dried mango, "If you are, you're not alone. Like I said, I'm not sure there's a difference." Another piece procured, they take a bit and set the bag down on their leg, "I've met a lot of people like you, Mason. At least, people who say things like you do. For me, it took--" They pause, nose wrinkling a moment as they furrow through brow and look aside to their conversation partner out of the corner of their eye. Eventually, their lips settle back into an easy smile, "It took learning to enjoy the running, I think."

Mason wrinkles his nose. "There's no one like me." He laughs. "I dunno, there probably are. I like to think I'm unique, but the world is too messed up for that to be true." He shrugs. "I think I've mostly just been trying to find peace. And distance. But I thought eventually I'd...you know. Stop. Maybe I can't." He breathes out slowly, a habit to keep himself calm, pulling back a little to bring his legs up to sit cross-legged. "I don't wanna...get into it...but I'm not sure it's really safe to stop anywhere." He says that last sentence much quieter than the rest. More seriously. "There's...a chance...what I'm running from will catch up."

Mason's initial response has Addy turning to offer him an amused grin, eyes flitting about his face for a moment before they nod their head and return to listening quietly. "Ah," they offer out once he's finished, chin canting down as they take another bite of their mango, "It's a lot harder to enjoy running when you're being chased." They toss the rest of the fruit into their mouth, chew quietly for a moment, then looking back, brandishing the tattoos on their arms as they do, "I don't have much, but I do have friends. And I have myself. I can't promise it'll be enough, but since we're friends now, that means you have the rest of us too. If it helps."

Mason shrugs. "I dunno if I'm being chased or not. This could just be me being crazy." He admits, softly. "Anyway, sorry, I don't generally talk about that stuff. You're the first person I've spoken to about it in...well, years." He shrugs and offers a sympathetic smile. "I'm not big on burdening people." He pauses. "But I'd be happy to meet your friends. I'm generally happy to meet people. Sorry if all this sounds weird. I'm not totally sure I'm not insane." He admits, looking away for a moment. "Or how to even verify my sanity. It's tricky."

"There's no burden," Addy offers back to Mason with a shake of their head, "But I understand." Nose wrinkling again, he glances down to his arms for a moment before slowly going about tying the fruit back up in its bag and replacing it in its tin, "I haven't made any friends here yet, but when I do I'll introduce you." They flip their backpack open again and shove the tin back in before replacing their waterbottle, bare feet finding their way against the grass once more as they disengage from Mason and stand up. "If you really want an answer, I hope you find one," they offer back with a grin as they reach down and begin pulling their backpack up onto their back, "But I don't think sanity is all that important. Just be. Do less harm every day. Breathe. That's all that matters."

Mason nods, and waves. "Let's talk again. I'm around. More about you next time, I've been told I talk too much." He shrugs, and then once again gives Addy a little wave.