(you can pm me here or on plurk if you'd like to beforehand, but also if you'd just like to drop something at my doorstep with no preamble please do!!)
You don't need to understand my rationale. It's for me and me alone.
[Enjoy a puff of smoke to the face, Maruki.]
Your schedule isn't so different from mine. We have the same counselors, for the most part. I don't understand how you can trust them the way you do. You're only a paycheck. They could easily take this information and ruin your life behind the scenes.
Fame is irrelevant. My mother was a nobody, yet her life was ruined. Many assume it was because of her career choice, but it was word of mouth and the ostracization that followed more than all else, I imagine.
[He's irritated. His mother isn't an unknown or uncommon topic between them now. It slips out - he can't fathom why. Her name, life, and death the only pieces of his increasingly small world he doesn't weaponize.]
The next time you get a job, your employer may note your stay here. Call this place. Bribe someone to send your file, your confessions. Find out why you checked yourself in and punish you for it.
[He ends the rant with a too long inhale. Holds the smoke in his mouth until it feels like he'll suffocate. Lets a steady stream flow from his lips when he needs to breathe - slow, intentional, calming. His eyes follow the gray line up to the sky.]
Rumors spread fast and reach corners you could never imagine. Any weakness is exploitable, even if it's a 'secret.'
Akechi isn't wrong. Maruki knows well how people can be punished by society for a crime no greater than attempting to get help for themselves. They live in an imperfect, painful reality, after all. It could all easily happen.
He just can't bring himself to care.
It's difficult to imagine his life moving on enough for something like that to occur. Sometimes Maruki feels as if he outlived something he wasn't meant to and has been cut adrift, purposeless and hollowed out. All the more reason for him to be here, really, and something he's been speaking to the doctors about.
He takes a long drag, studies the ground beneath them as he speaks. ]
What's the alternative? Say we leave tomorrow. What sort of life awaits us if we're entrenched in the same problems we've had for years, and now without our own avenues to cope with them?
[ He shakes his head, ashes the cigarette next to Akechi's shoe. ]
I don't want to return to the way I was. I want to change.
[Maruki wants to change. Is. Strides forward into this unknown with a desire to hurt, be hurt, get hurt and heal.
Akechi inhales Maruki's words with another gulp of smoke. Doesn't bite back. Doesn't say anything. Wonders why he waited this long to try smoking, knows it's because that was the final few barrier between him and them in those smoke filled rooms. Every time they offered, he declined. It was only back in this reality that he took Maruki up on it and ended up hunched up on the patio coughing his lungs up, but feeling better all the same.
Maruki wants to change, so he does.
Akechi feels like a leash was removed too soon - a vicious dog given freedom only to wander in the same circles he always has. He doesn't want to change because there's nothing to change.
The AC makes a noise - kicks on and turns off a second later.
Maruki wants to change. Akechi doesn't think it will happen within these off-white walls. With a bed too stiff to sleep in. With a world closed off and limited while he's supposed to heal with a random person. A nobody. Nothing.
He puts the cigarette out on wall behind him and drops the smooshed filter into his pocket.]
Frankly, I should be in jail or dead. [But he's not.] If I speak to them about other worlds, a prime minister with a hitlist, and years spent fighting for him, they'll commit me to a different kind of establishment. It may as well be a prison.
[Not that he needs to talk about that. He doesn't want to talk about anything. There's little else to bring up - a dead mother, a celebrity life, foster homes that barely hold a place in his memory. They ask about his life, he obliges with vague comments. They ask about his feelings, he tells the truth. They ask about a future, and he lies.]
Barring that, what else is there? I'm not unhappy. I don't feel anything. This seems to be the ideal and what people like you are striving for.
[ There's a bit left of Maruki's cigarette. He considers Akechi's words carefully, because again, he isn't wrong, so many of the things they both need to talk about are the ones that they can't–
But then, at the end, he veers off course.
Maruki's brows furrow together at once. ]
You think I'm striving for you to feel nothing? That couldn't be farther from the truth.
[ A beat. Another drag. There's maybe one left. They need to get back inside.
[Completely, utterly impossible. Freedom doesn't exist. That thought solidified in his youth, while he pulled from home to home. Put on a leash. Controlled because he allowed it.]
There are consequences to what I've done and the way I've lived over the years. While I hesitate to call it atonement, there's no reality that ends in freedom for me. If not a literal cage, then I should be in one of my own making.
[Those who died deserved it - Akechi, to this day, will never think otherwise. They were rotten, like Shido. Like him.
But he still took lives. Broke minds. Lived with vicious intent meant to ruin. He knew the day Wakaba's body fell to his feet and vanished in a wisp of smoke that he wouldn't attain peace. Not until Shido died.
And then he did, and-]
Does a serial killer deserve to live with the same freedom that those he killed will never get to experience? Does someone who broke the minds and hearts of others deserve to have a calm one? I think not.
[ If not a literal cage, then I should be in one of my own making.
Maruki's heart breaks a bit, right then and there. His cigarette burns down to ash between his fingers as he stares at Akechi, each miserable word sinking into those newly formed cracks.
He's always been determined to show Akechi that it doesn't have to be that way, but somehow the road feels longer now than ever before.
He stubs it out against the ground. Moves to stand, hands tucking into his pockets where they clench into anxious fists.
Conviction burns bright and hot through his words, the same way it did when he would swear to find a way out of a false reality if he had to tear it apart himself. ]
[The world is large for those destined to walk it. Akechi gave it up. Doesn't regret it. Would do it over and over and over and over again.
He looks at Maruki - irritation pulling at his features, anger blooming in his gut.
Are you stupid?
[He must be. He has to be.]
I shot Wakaba right between the eyes, and she jumped in front of a car days later. I broke the minds of many, ruined them, killed innocent people in the process. Killed someone who's name I can't remember even before Isshiki.
[Because that brutality doesn't deserve mercy. It's a consequence. Akechi killed for years and years, willingly.]
I shot that worthless principal. Waited for the Phantom Thieves to steal Okumura's heart and then swooped in to end it after they thought they won. I can't even remember all those I've executed and yet, you say the world is large for me.
[An irate pat against his knees, wiping off invisible dirt as he stands.]
You're trying to find mercy for a killer that doesn't want it. There are consequences for every action - you can't ignore this.
[ Irritation builds up quickly, turns to acidic bile in his mouth, makes him spit his words. ]
Do you remember when I told you how much I admired that you dealt with every consequence thrown at you? I still do. If you acted as if your actions changed nothing, I would despise you.
[ And he doesn't. Never has. Not even for a moment. Not even in the worst moments, Akechi's hands around his throat, glass embedded into his eye, a bullet piercing his neck.
Maruki stops short, breathes. Focuses inward, grasps the fraying edges of his usual calm and plasters them down. ]
There's a difference between mercy and absolution. I know that you know that. Don't be stupid.
[A part of him delights in these rare moments - when Maruki gives into his wrath, when it's directed to Akechi most of all.
In another reality, it would have turned into a fight. With Akechi viciously trying to incite more, get farther, make him break and turn the situation into one more manageable than a 'heart to heart.'
But he can't here and that freedom lost makes him exhale with a different sort of ire. All too aware of the cameras around the building, of eyes watching them, even if they don't report what's happening.]
I don't want it.
[Is what he settles on - bitter and spoken towards the earth. 'I'm leaving tomorrow' almost follows. 'I'm leaving soon' stays caught in this throat and-
'I don't know how' remains unspoken through it all.]
I look forward to seeing your healing progress then. May a new man be reborn thanks to the help of those that will never truly know you or what you've done.
Only one person in this reality truly knows him and what he's done, and Maruki's staring right at him. If he's reborn, it won't only be because of the efforts to be emotionally honest with someone paid to analyze his mind. It will be just as much because of Akechi, if not more. ]
I don't care. You have it, whether you want it or not.
[ And that's always been the case.
He jerks his head toward the walkway back around the corner so they can make their way inside again. ]
Come on. You're getting cold.
[ And then, if Akechi falls into step beside him– never behind, even now–
A warm hand pressed between hunched, rigid shoulder blades. Always, ever. ]
[They walk in. A pocket of warmth remains even after Maruki peels his hand away at the building's entrance.
And that night-
Akechi thinks.
And that night-
Akechi watches the rhythmic rise and fall of the man's chest, in a bed only centimeters away.
And that night-
Akechi ends up on the ground, his head directly below Maruki's hand and neither one of them say a word as hair is smoothed down, over and over, from 2AM onward.
And that morning-
They eat.
And that morning-
They separate.
And that morning-
in a private session, in a small room, surrounded by walls coated in grotesque gray that close in every time he inhales and the phantom sensation of a hand between his shoulder blades, against the base of his skull, with a calendar on the wall with a bolded date that only means something to Akechi Goro-
He talks about his mom.
Her suicide, what happened after, the very little he remembers beyond it. The numerous homes, a vague emancipation and feigning ignorance on memories thereafter. Explodes on the doctor when that response is questioned. Doesn't unleash every vile word he can imagine but lashes out in polite barbs and tongue in cheek insults.
By the end of that extended session, they almost move Akechi to his own room. Decide not to after. He isn't sure why. Doesn't care why. Ends up lashing out at Maruki to no avail - the man's quiet, placating tone and minimal words enough to temper the fight before it can become a full on brawl.
And in the end, Akechi tells Maruki too, while his eyes are shut and his hair is pressed down in small, short bursts.
And in the morning-
They separate.
And in the morning, in the same room with the same doctor, he doesn't say a word.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Enjoy a puff of smoke to the face, Maruki.]
Your schedule isn't so different from mine. We have the same counselors, for the most part. I don't understand how you can trust them the way you do. You're only a paycheck. They could easily take this information and ruin your life behind the scenes.
no subject
What is there to ruin? Neither of us have reputations to protect anymore. You're as much of a nobody as I am now.
no subject
[He's irritated. His mother isn't an unknown or uncommon topic between them now. It slips out - he can't fathom why. Her name, life, and death the only pieces of his increasingly small world he doesn't weaponize.]
The next time you get a job, your employer may note your stay here. Call this place. Bribe someone to send your file, your confessions. Find out why you checked yourself in and punish you for it.
[He ends the rant with a too long inhale. Holds the smoke in his mouth until it feels like he'll suffocate. Lets a steady stream flow from his lips when he needs to breathe - slow, intentional, calming. His eyes follow the gray line up to the sky.]
Rumors spread fast and reach corners you could never imagine. Any weakness is exploitable, even if it's a 'secret.'
no subject
Akechi isn't wrong. Maruki knows well how people can be punished by society for a crime no greater than attempting to get help for themselves. They live in an imperfect, painful reality, after all. It could all easily happen.
He just can't bring himself to care.
It's difficult to imagine his life moving on enough for something like that to occur. Sometimes Maruki feels as if he outlived something he wasn't meant to and has been cut adrift, purposeless and hollowed out. All the more reason for him to be here, really, and something he's been speaking to the doctors about.
He takes a long drag, studies the ground beneath them as he speaks. ]
What's the alternative? Say we leave tomorrow. What sort of life awaits us if we're entrenched in the same problems we've had for years, and now without our own avenues to cope with them?
[ He shakes his head, ashes the cigarette next to Akechi's shoe. ]
I don't want to return to the way I was. I want to change.
no subject
Akechi inhales Maruki's words with another gulp of smoke. Doesn't bite back. Doesn't say anything. Wonders why he waited this long to try smoking, knows it's because that was the final few barrier between him and them in those smoke filled rooms. Every time they offered, he declined. It was only back in this reality that he took Maruki up on it and ended up hunched up on the patio coughing his lungs up, but feeling better all the same.
Maruki wants to change, so he does.
Akechi feels like a leash was removed too soon - a vicious dog given freedom only to wander in the same circles he always has. He doesn't want to change because there's nothing to change.
The AC makes a noise - kicks on and turns off a second later.
Maruki wants to change. Akechi doesn't think it will happen within these off-white walls. With a bed too stiff to sleep in. With a world closed off and limited while he's supposed to heal with a random person. A nobody. Nothing.
He puts the cigarette out on wall behind him and drops the smooshed filter into his pocket.]
Frankly, I should be in jail or dead. [But he's not.] If I speak to them about other worlds, a prime minister with a hitlist, and years spent fighting for him, they'll commit me to a different kind of establishment. It may as well be a prison.
[Not that he needs to talk about that. He doesn't want to talk about anything. There's little else to bring up - a dead mother, a celebrity life, foster homes that barely hold a place in his memory. They ask about his life, he obliges with vague comments. They ask about his feelings, he tells the truth. They ask about a future, and he lies.]
Barring that, what else is there? I'm not unhappy. I don't feel anything. This seems to be the ideal and what people like you are striving for.
no subject
But then, at the end, he veers off course.
Maruki's brows furrow together at once. ]
You think I'm striving for you to feel nothing? That couldn't be farther from the truth.
[ A beat. Another drag. There's maybe one left. They need to get back inside.
Another beat. Maruki sighs. ]
I want you to be free.
no subject
That's impossible.
[Completely, utterly impossible. Freedom doesn't exist. That thought solidified in his youth, while he pulled from home to home. Put on a leash. Controlled because he allowed it.]
There are consequences to what I've done and the way I've lived over the years. While I hesitate to call it atonement, there's no reality that ends in freedom for me. If not a literal cage, then I should be in one of my own making.
[Those who died deserved it - Akechi, to this day, will never think otherwise. They were rotten, like Shido. Like him.
But he still took lives. Broke minds. Lived with vicious intent meant to ruin. He knew the day Wakaba's body fell to his feet and vanished in a wisp of smoke that he wouldn't attain peace. Not until Shido died.
And then he did, and-]
Does a serial killer deserve to live with the same freedom that those he killed will never get to experience? Does someone who broke the minds and hearts of others deserve to have a calm one? I think not.
no subject
Maruki's heart breaks a bit, right then and there. His cigarette burns down to ash between his fingers as he stares at Akechi, each miserable word sinking into those newly formed cracks.
He's always been determined to show Akechi that it doesn't have to be that way, but somehow the road feels longer now than ever before.
He stubs it out against the ground. Moves to stand, hands tucking into his pockets where they clench into anxious fists.
Conviction burns bright and hot through his words, the same way it did when he would swear to find a way out of a false reality if he had to tear it apart himself. ]
The world is large, Akechi.
[ Please. Believe me. ]
Far larger than any cage you or anyone else could build.
no subject
He looks at Maruki - irritation pulling at his features, anger blooming in his gut.
Are you stupid?
[He must be. He has to be.]
I shot Wakaba right between the eyes, and she jumped in front of a car days later. I broke the minds of many, ruined them, killed innocent people in the process. Killed someone who's name I can't remember even before Isshiki.
[Because that brutality doesn't deserve mercy. It's a consequence. Akechi killed for years and years, willingly.]
I shot that worthless principal. Waited for the Phantom Thieves to steal Okumura's heart and then swooped in to end it after they thought they won. I can't even remember all those I've executed and yet, you say the world is large for me.
[An irate pat against his knees, wiping off invisible dirt as he stands.]
You're trying to find mercy for a killer that doesn't want it. There are consequences for every action - you can't ignore this.
no subject
[ Irritation builds up quickly, turns to acidic bile in his mouth, makes him spit his words. ]
Do you remember when I told you how much I admired that you dealt with every consequence thrown at you? I still do. If you acted as if your actions changed nothing, I would despise you.
[ And he doesn't. Never has. Not even for a moment. Not even in the worst moments, Akechi's hands around his throat, glass embedded into his eye, a bullet piercing his neck.
Maruki stops short, breathes. Focuses inward, grasps the fraying edges of his usual calm and plasters them down. ]
There's a difference between mercy and absolution. I know that you know that. Don't be stupid.
no subject
In another reality, it would have turned into a fight. With Akechi viciously trying to incite more, get farther, make him break and turn the situation into one more manageable than a 'heart to heart.'
But he can't here and that freedom lost makes him exhale with a different sort of ire. All too aware of the cameras around the building, of eyes watching them, even if they don't report what's happening.]
I don't want it.
[Is what he settles on - bitter and spoken towards the earth. 'I'm leaving tomorrow' almost follows. 'I'm leaving soon' stays caught in this throat and-
'I don't know how' remains unspoken through it all.]
I look forward to seeing your healing progress then. May a new man be reborn thanks to the help of those that will never truly know you or what you've done.
no subject
Only one person in this reality truly knows him and what he's done, and Maruki's staring right at him. If he's reborn, it won't only be because of the efforts to be emotionally honest with someone paid to analyze his mind. It will be just as much because of Akechi, if not more. ]
I don't care. You have it, whether you want it or not.
[ And that's always been the case.
He jerks his head toward the walkway back around the corner so they can make their way inside again. ]
Come on. You're getting cold.
[ And then, if Akechi falls into step beside him– never behind, even now–
A warm hand pressed between hunched, rigid shoulder blades. Always, ever. ]
no subject
And that night-
Akechi thinks.
And that night-Akechi watches the rhythmic rise and fall of the man's chest, in a bed only centimeters away.
And that night-Akechi ends up on the ground, his head directly below Maruki's hand and neither one of them say a word as hair is smoothed down, over and over, from 2AM onward.
And that morning-They eat.
And that morning-They separate.
And that morning-He talks about his mom.
Her suicide, what happened after, the very little he remembers beyond it. The numerous homes, a vague emancipation and feigning ignorance on memories thereafter. Explodes on the doctor when that response is questioned. Doesn't unleash every vile word he can imagine but lashes out in polite barbs and tongue in cheek insults.By the end of that extended session, they almost move Akechi to his own room. Decide not to after. He isn't sure why. Doesn't care why. Ends up lashing out at Maruki to no avail - the man's quiet, placating tone and minimal words enough to temper the fight before it can become a full on brawl.
And in the end, Akechi tells Maruki too, while his eyes are shut and his hair is pressed down in small, short bursts.
And in the morning-
They separate.
And in the morning, in the same room with the same doctor, he doesn't say a word.]