(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!!)
[He loves his mother - that won't stop. Not ever. The pang in his chest, the way his eyes burn at her memory - he's certain that won't ever vanish no matter how many times he sits eye to eye with that therapist. He's come to terms with it. Even if he killed her, he didn't mean to. He didn't want to. He loved her.
He loves Takuto. A man who's kept him steady since the moment he arrived - a palm always flat against his back in his worst moments, calm words, soft voice. Always beside him. Only a phone call away. A single request away. The first time he screwed up as a child, he was ready to be placed back into a car. Nothing happened. Maruki pulled him into his arms and promised he wasn't being given up. Did it over and over for years until it finally stuck. Stated it again still when Akechi's obstinance overtook fear for the short time he lashed out with normal teenage petulance. Again still when he broke down only a few feet away.
He loves Rumi. A replacement for his mother will never exist - neither of them want that. It doesn't stop Akechi from being filled with the same adoration and reverence when he looks at her. Doesn't stop him from hugging and huddling up under blankets with her during their late night detective shows, even at his age. His friends make fun of him for it. It doesn't matter to Akechi because he won't let her feel unloved or unwanted. Won't let her die the same way Akechi x̸̢̨͖̪̤̫̮̮̠̯̉̿̎̀͝ͅx̵̢̰̮̱͉̱̦̲̞̞̼͈̉̑̒̀̅͒͋͗̕͘͠͝ẍ̸̡̨̛̟̜̪̫̖̞͖͔̳̃̾͂̊̅͐͝͝x̷͚̥̹̫͖̙̱̭̠͔̠̫͚͉͗̇̃ did. Won't let either of them feel like a noose is their only choice out.
Even if society turns on them, Akechi Goro won't. They will be loved forever. He won't stop. He'll never stop.
There's a childhood habit turned running joke between the three - when Takuto and Rumi are side by side on the couch, Akechi will shove himself between them more often than not. As a child, he wanted to hide from a world that felt too big even in a shoebox apartment and now -
It's to hear 'You're too old for that' from one of them - get pulled into a hug from his Mom. Earn a kiss to the cheek and against the side of his head with that melodious, loving laughter. Sometimes he leaves, other times he doesn't and uses his family as a head and foot rest respectively. It's obnoxious. It's stupid and-
It's them. It's always them. Even when Rumi is stern. Even when she chastises. Even when she grounds and punishes him because Akechi isn't perfect, they still love him. He loves them, so he adjusts. He loves them, so he becomes a better person so he can represent the Maruki family well.
Maruki's face is in his peripherals - Rumi's presence felt in her silence. He doesn't look away from his mom, but-]
If I'm to have one member of my family, then I want all. It's only natural, isn't it?
[ Those nights are Maruki's favorite. Have always been his favorite. When Akechi was still so small he barely came up to his knee, he would wriggle in between them, content to take up the scantest space available, happily squished between their bodies. The sprawling out happened as he grew older, taller, so impossibly lanky that Rumi would joke with him sometimes that he must have absorbed some of Maruki's genes by osmosis.
It happened again just a few days before that meltdown in the kitchen. They watched the news with Akechi's legs draped over Maruki's lap, his head in Rumi's, delicate fingers carding through his hair. It turned to politics, and he changed it. Not quickly enough.
Akechi will leave them one day. It's inevitable. They both flourished with the freedom of university and want him to be able to do the same. There's still a couple years left before that, and maybe he'll want to live at home while he attends school, but it's an eventuality they're preparing for. He will leave, and their little apartment will be emptier for it, that nonexistent space between them on the couch suddenly unoccupied.
Maruki cherishes every moment. Even the difficult ones. Perhaps, at times, especially those. After all, they bring him moments like this. Pain has purpose; flowers grow in the little planter garden on their balcony after the rainy season ends.
Rumi's voice pipes up from the phone, tells him of course, they've got a million pictures he can have. Like they were going to send him off into the world without them in his pocket! Light as ever, endlessly loving, trying to put a small smile back on his face.
Maruki draws his hand up to ruffle through Akechi's hair, then slings that arm around his shoulders instead. ]
[It's beyond corny. His friends make fun of him with good-natured barbs about how moving out will be more difficult for Akechi than his family. It doesn't stop him from taking photos with an open wallet present in every single photo, two pictures facing the lens - his mother, and his parents.
It's a joke at first - photos sent when he gets limited edition meals at Big Bang Burger or empty spaces at the konbini. Extended further when his adventures naturally move further to the edge of the city, overnight trips with friends, weekend outings with schoolmates, and finally the day he moves out entirely.
The first picture he shares as an independent adult is a photo of an empty room, boxes set against the corner, and Kurusu laying flat on the ground pretending to be dead from the exertion of it all. He makes sure his family is looking over the 'dead man.'
The habit continues on past college, past moving back for the interim between degree and job. Beyond a new home formed in a smaller apartment than the one he grew up in, with Kurusu 'dead' in background played up with all the dramatic flair he had in his youth, even though Akechi has to help him back up from the ground afterwards.
He snaps photos at Tokyo University when he goes back for an advanced degree, sends a picture to Rumi when he surprises his father at work with a badge that indicates Akechi Goro works a few floors above him as someone's lackey.
He sends more when he travels around the world, overseas, to any place that will take him for however long he can stay - for work, for pleasure, with Kurusu always facedown on the floor, dead, at every hotel room or Airbnb they end up.
His world is shared with them in every silly image decades after with only an occasional request to send him updated photos. He keeps all the old ones in a small envelope under his bed. Wants to see them as they are for the rest of his life.
They get older, so does he. He never stops sending them, even when he knows Maruki has to show Rumi who's too tired to move from her hospital bed.
Sends more than ever when he knows Maruki will never shake the perpetual grief that follows when there's no one left to share them with.
Sends them anyway, even when both numbers bounce back disconnected.
Sends them anyway until he has to ask Kurusu to snap the final one.]
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ur upset??? fascinating. die harder.
He loves Takuto. A man who's kept him steady since the moment he arrived - a palm always flat against his back in his worst moments, calm words, soft voice. Always beside him. Only a phone call away. A single request away. The first time he screwed up as a child, he was ready to be placed back into a car. Nothing happened. Maruki pulled him into his arms and promised he wasn't being given up. Did it over and over for years until it finally stuck. Stated it again still when Akechi's obstinance overtook fear for the short time he lashed out with normal teenage petulance. Again still when he broke down only a few feet away.
He loves Rumi. A replacement for his mother will never exist - neither of them want that. It doesn't stop Akechi from being filled with the same adoration and reverence when he looks at her. Doesn't stop him from hugging and huddling up under blankets with her during their late night detective shows, even at his age. His friends make fun of him for it. It doesn't matter to Akechi because he won't let her feel unloved or unwanted. Won't let her die the same way Akechi x̸̢̨͖̪̤̫̮̮̠̯̉̿̎̀͝ͅx̵̢̰̮̱͉̱̦̲̞̞̼͈̉̑̒̀̅͒͋͗̕͘͠͝ẍ̸̡̨̛̟̜̪̫̖̞͖͔̳̃̾͂̊̅͐͝͝x̷͚̥̹̫͖̙̱̭̠͔̠̫͚͉͗̇̃ did. Won't let either of them feel like a noose is their only choice out.
Even if society turns on them, Akechi Goro won't. They will be loved forever. He won't stop. He'll never stop.
There's a childhood habit turned running joke between the three - when Takuto and Rumi are side by side on the couch, Akechi will shove himself between them more often than not. As a child, he wanted to hide from a world that felt too big even in a shoebox apartment and now -
It's to hear 'You're too old for that' from one of them - get pulled into a hug from his Mom. Earn a kiss to the cheek and against the side of his head with that melodious, loving laughter. Sometimes he leaves, other times he doesn't and uses his family as a head and foot rest respectively. It's obnoxious. It's stupid and-
It's them. It's always them. Even when Rumi is stern. Even when she chastises. Even when she grounds and punishes him because Akechi isn't perfect, they still love him. He loves them, so he adjusts. He loves them, so he becomes a better person so he can represent the Maruki family well.
Maruki's face is in his peripherals - Rumi's presence felt in her silence. He doesn't look away from his mom, but-]
If I'm to have one member of my family, then I want all. It's only natural, isn't it?
kill me. goodbye
It happened again just a few days before that meltdown in the kitchen. They watched the news with Akechi's legs draped over Maruki's lap, his head in Rumi's, delicate fingers carding through his hair. It turned to politics, and he changed it. Not quickly enough.
Akechi will leave them one day. It's inevitable. They both flourished with the freedom of university and want him to be able to do the same. There's still a couple years left before that, and maybe he'll want to live at home while he attends school, but it's an eventuality they're preparing for. He will leave, and their little apartment will be emptier for it, that nonexistent space between them on the couch suddenly unoccupied.
Maruki cherishes every moment. Even the difficult ones. Perhaps, at times, especially those. After all, they bring him moments like this. Pain has purpose; flowers grow in the little planter garden on their balcony after the rainy season ends.
Rumi's voice pipes up from the phone, tells him of course, they've got a million pictures he can have. Like they were going to send him off into the world without them in his pocket! Light as ever, endlessly loving, trying to put a small smile back on his face.
Maruki draws his hand up to ruffle through Akechi's hair, then slings that arm around his shoulders instead. ]
Of course. One thing at a time, that's all.
[ And the most important thing first. ]
kill ME we can wrap this too satan
It's a joke at first - photos sent when he gets limited edition meals at Big Bang Burger or empty spaces at the konbini. Extended further when his adventures naturally move further to the edge of the city, overnight trips with friends, weekend outings with schoolmates, and finally the day he moves out entirely.
The first picture he shares as an independent adult is a photo of an empty room, boxes set against the corner, and Kurusu laying flat on the ground pretending to be dead from the exertion of it all. He makes sure his family is looking over the 'dead man.'
The habit continues on past college, past moving back for the interim between degree and job. Beyond a new home formed in a smaller apartment than the one he grew up in, with Kurusu 'dead' in background played up with all the dramatic flair he had in his youth, even though Akechi has to help him back up from the ground afterwards.
He snaps photos at Tokyo University when he goes back for an advanced degree, sends a picture to Rumi when he surprises his father at work with a badge that indicates Akechi Goro works a few floors above him as someone's lackey.
He sends more when he travels around the world, overseas, to any place that will take him for however long he can stay - for work, for pleasure, with Kurusu always facedown on the floor, dead, at every hotel room or Airbnb they end up.
His world is shared with them in every silly image decades after with only an occasional request to send him updated photos. He keeps all the old ones in a small envelope under his bed. Wants to see them as they are for the rest of his life.
They get older, so does he. He never stops sending them, even when he knows Maruki has to show Rumi who's too tired to move from her hospital bed.
Sends more than ever when he knows Maruki will never shake the perpetual grief that follows when there's no one left to share them with.
Sends them anyway, even when both numbers bounce back disconnected.
Sends them anyway until he has to ask Kurusu to snap the final one.]