(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!!)
[ A loaded gun to his head in this moment would be less heartbreaking than that statement, and that question.
Maruki considers it in wheezing silence for a while. Akechi's hair sifts through his fingers. Those words came out a little less rough, a little less pained.
A secret truth shared.
Maruki couldn't possibly love him more. ]
Lately, I've wondered if I'm meant to ever be happy.
[ I'm not a happy person, he told Dolph. My happiness was with Rumi.
And it wasn't a lie – it was, in fact, part of what caused the thorns hooked into his airway to retract, no matter how much of his own blood he had to swallow in the relief.
But... ]
I think I understand now, though. Even if I'm still in pain, even if the worst things of all still happened to me...
[ To both of us. ]
In the realities where I have you by my side, I'm not lonely.
[ Whether Rumi is with him or not. Whether Akechi's mother is alive or not.
They at least aren't lonely.
Trapped in a false reality against his will and toyed with regularly by a force too great to overcome, they at least aren't lonely. ]
That's what makes all the difference.
[ Happiness isn't possible when he's on his own. Holed up in a shoebox apartment with nothing but his own research to keep him company, or in an ivory tower watching over all of reality– it's nothing but pain for him in the end, isn't it?
It's the hardest thing of all to realize, when he knows everything he has here is temporary and he will return to nothing at all:
Maruki isn't meant to be alone.
He's not alone now, the fever washing over him, making him close his eyes and let his body curl toward Akechi's. His forehead touches one bony shoulder. ]
In those lives, I think I was happy, too. Isn't that something?
And maybe, at the core of all of this, that's why he hates Maruki Takuto.
He isn't lonely in their shared home. Not in his locked room, under the heated covers of a kotatsu, sitting at the farthest edge of a kitchen bar.
He isn't lonely on rare nights alone in that expansive house. Those phantom noises persist without him there - a record player's soft hum, feet that stop at his door, movement in a kitchen and chatter. Akechi listens for it instinctively. Searches for it when his memory has to fill in the gaps and finds himself waiting for it return.
He isn't lonely when they sit in a bath in silence, unleash vile words on a battlefield, pluck food off one another's plates or sip coffee before the sun rises. He isn't lonely in festivals and gatherings and parties because they both end up at the furthest fringes of them as the night goes on. They don't always talk, but Akechi always sees him. Maruki always looks his way.
He isn't lonely when a man sees him, only him, listens to him and hears him and doesn't chastise goals meant for him and lets Akechi Goro live as he shouldn't, stays by his side anyway.
He isn't lonely while his body is eaten alive, with a hand in his hair and head on his shoulder.
And he was never lonely - not for a single moment - until this man weaved himself into the deepest recesses of his life. Something that might have been happiness - now he understands, more than ever, what that sensation is in worlds where there's someone by his side.
And he is never lonely. He can't be lonely. It doesn't matter if he isn't lonely now because there's a world waiting that dictates its necessity.
He listens to every word - over his own wheezing breath and hacking coughs. Turns his head to hear those muffled comments. Ends up with hair pressing into his cheek - dark brown, soft, sweat making it stick to Akechi's skin, but he doesn't care. It's comfortable. He's not lonely. He's too strong to be lonely.
It's too warm. He can't stand it. He hates Maruki for it and-]
They were only dreams in the end, but they weren't bad ones. If I continue to imagine such worlds at night - it wouldn't make me unhappy.
[It's not a lie, but he'll pretend it is the second they're back to normal. A delirious ramble from an ill teenager an excuse neither will believe and they'll both abide by regardless.
Maruki's hair sticks to his eyelashes, so he shuts them. Presses his face against the man's skull to dislodge it. Finds he doesn't really care.]
I'm tired.
(frozen comment) sigh. go ahead. kill me in one shot
[ He's not breathing much easier, having said that, but– it's tolerable. The worst secret of all still festers in his trachea, his lungs, down to the very rot of his soul that he shares with the boy curled up with him.
Maybe he's imagining this conversation in his feverish delusions. It's the closest Akechi has come to approaching kindness in his words in a very, very long time.
It wouldn't make me unhappy.
That's as good as gold, isn't it? ]
Let's sleep.
[ His eyes are already closed, body heavy with exhaustion. There's no other alternative, but when presented with an inevitability, they both prefer to pretend it's something they're choosing. ]
Perhaps if we both imagine something like that tonight, we'll dream together. Stranger things have happened here, after all.
[Let's sleep - and Akechi wonders if Maruki recognizes the all too real possibility neither of them may wake up. That vines could strangle them under the weight of their secrets - it's not as if anything grand was stated here. Nothing new. Nothing truly unknown.
They could sleep. They could die. Akechi isn't upset at the possibility.
We'll dream together - he doesn't want that.
The collar of Maruki's shirt is the last thing he sees. The haunting thought of sharing some shitty, sentimental illusion is the last thought he has.
And when he dreams -
He sees a whole world open up - a mountainside bathhouse, a car ride up to it, flashes of popup cafes with limited edition drinks, Akechi swatting a hand trying to ruin his picture of it.
But it's suffocating. Worse than the nothing that normally fills his mind. More agonizing than a noose.
He craves it anyway. Grasps it anyway. Rips the dream back, even as his eyes crack open in the dead of night, with his own wheezing breath choking him. He drags the dream back throughout, even when he's awakened by coughs and gasps of someone under him. He doesn't remember laying here and-
He doesn't care. If they die, they die. Maruki can move. Leave. Talk. Find someone to spill his guts to.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(frozen comment) no subject
Maruki considers it in wheezing silence for a while. Akechi's hair sifts through his fingers. Those words came out a little less rough, a little less pained.
A secret truth shared.
Maruki couldn't possibly love him more. ]
Lately, I've wondered if I'm meant to ever be happy.
[ I'm not a happy person, he told Dolph. My happiness was with Rumi.
And it wasn't a lie – it was, in fact, part of what caused the thorns hooked into his airway to retract, no matter how much of his own blood he had to swallow in the relief.
But... ]
I think I understand now, though. Even if I'm still in pain, even if the worst things of all still happened to me...
[ To both of us. ]
In the realities where I have you by my side, I'm not lonely.
[ Whether Rumi is with him or not. Whether Akechi's mother is alive or not.
They at least aren't lonely.
Trapped in a false reality against his will and toyed with regularly by a force too great to overcome, they at least aren't lonely. ]
That's what makes all the difference.
[ Happiness isn't possible when he's on his own. Holed up in a shoebox apartment with nothing but his own research to keep him company, or in an ivory tower watching over all of reality– it's nothing but pain for him in the end, isn't it?
It's the hardest thing of all to realize, when he knows everything he has here is temporary and he will return to nothing at all:
Maruki isn't meant to be alone.
He's not alone now, the fever washing over him, making him close his eyes and let his body curl toward Akechi's. His forehead touches one bony shoulder. ]
In those lives, I think I was happy, too. Isn't that something?
(frozen comment) no subject
And maybe, at the core of all of this, that's why he hates Maruki Takuto.
He isn't lonely in their shared home. Not in his locked room, under the heated covers of a kotatsu, sitting at the farthest edge of a kitchen bar.
He isn't lonely on rare nights alone in that expansive house. Those phantom noises persist without him there - a record player's soft hum, feet that stop at his door, movement in a kitchen and chatter. Akechi listens for it instinctively. Searches for it when his memory has to fill in the gaps and finds himself waiting for it return.
He isn't lonely when they sit in a bath in silence, unleash vile words on a battlefield, pluck food off one another's plates or sip coffee before the sun rises. He isn't lonely in festivals and gatherings and parties because they both end up at the furthest fringes of them as the night goes on. They don't always talk, but Akechi always sees him. Maruki always looks his way.
He isn't lonely when a man sees him, only him, listens to him and hears him and doesn't chastise goals meant for him and lets Akechi Goro live as he shouldn't, stays by his side anyway.
He isn't lonely while his body is eaten alive, with a hand in his hair and head on his shoulder.
And he was never lonely - not for a single moment - until this man weaved himself into the deepest recesses of his life. Something that might have been happiness - now he understands, more than ever, what that sensation is in worlds where there's someone by his side.
And he is never lonely. He can't be lonely. It doesn't matter if he isn't lonely now because there's a world waiting that dictates its necessity.
He listens to every word - over his own wheezing breath and hacking coughs. Turns his head to hear those muffled comments. Ends up with hair pressing into his cheek - dark brown, soft, sweat making it stick to Akechi's skin, but he doesn't care. It's comfortable. He's not lonely. He's too strong to be lonely.
It's too warm. He can't stand it. He hates Maruki for it and-]
They were only dreams in the end, but they weren't bad ones. If I continue to imagine such worlds at night - it wouldn't make me unhappy.
[It's not a lie, but he'll pretend it is the second they're back to normal. A delirious ramble from an ill teenager an excuse neither will believe and they'll both abide by regardless.
Maruki's hair sticks to his eyelashes, so he shuts them. Presses his face against the man's skull to dislodge it. Finds he doesn't really care.]
I'm tired.
(frozen comment) sigh. go ahead. kill me in one shot
Maybe he's imagining this conversation in his feverish delusions. It's the closest Akechi has come to approaching kindness in his words in a very, very long time.
It wouldn't make me unhappy.
That's as good as gold, isn't it? ]
Let's sleep.
[ His eyes are already closed, body heavy with exhaustion. There's no other alternative, but when presented with an inevitability, they both prefer to pretend it's something they're choosing. ]
Perhaps if we both imagine something like that tonight, we'll dream together. Stranger things have happened here, after all.
(frozen comment) no subject
They could sleep. They could die. Akechi isn't upset at the possibility.
We'll dream together - he doesn't want that.
The collar of Maruki's shirt is the last thing he sees. The haunting thought of sharing some shitty, sentimental illusion is the last thought he has.
And when he dreams -
He sees a whole world open up - a mountainside bathhouse, a car ride up to it, flashes of popup cafes with limited edition drinks, Akechi swatting a hand trying to ruin his picture of it.
But it's suffocating. Worse than the nothing that normally fills his mind. More agonizing than a noose.
He craves it anyway. Grasps it anyway. Rips the dream back, even as his eyes crack open in the dead of night, with his own wheezing breath choking him. He drags the dream back throughout, even when he's awakened by coughs and gasps of someone under him. He doesn't remember laying here and-
He doesn't care. If they die, they die. Maruki can move. Leave. Talk. Find someone to spill his guts to.
All Akechi wants to do is sleep.]