(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!!)
But it's easier, most days, to imagine that Akira failed. It isn't a lack of belief that he could live. It's that Akira must take responsibility for the life he didn't save.
His very worst dreams will always be the ones full of his hand, outstretched and useless.]
It still isn't fair to you. [Hoarse, quiet, and entirely truthful; it gives him the smallest measure of relief in his lungs, though that hadn't been Akira's intention. There's nothing else that Akira could ever imagine himself saying.] I don't want you to burden yourself with who you were to me. I want you to be able to smile, here, with the people that you've grown close to.
[Eren. Dolph. Akechi, inexplicably, of all people.
I just want you to be happy.
There are so few things that Akira wants for himself. But this is one of them.]
You don't have to chain yourself to the Maruki Takuto that I knew. I want-
[think of even one thing Maruki Takuto wants to do]
[ He does smile here with the people he's grown close to, but still–
In the end, he wants to smile with Akira, too. More than anyone else.
Opening himself up to that burden, getting through it together... he wants to believe that will make it possible for them to be happy, but perhaps it's not true. Perhaps the only thing that will ever soothe this Kurusu Akira will be making it back to the Maruki Takuto he left behind.
Still, all of that is swept away from the forefront of his mind at those words, weighted down heavy with a profound meaning he doesn't understand the source of.
I want you to want for yourself.
Maruki blinks at his friend, his guiding light, as another vine slowly unwinds from around his trachea. ]
He wasn't any better at doing that than I am, was he?
[ How could any Maruki Takuto learn to want for themselves? ]
I'm sorry. It must be frustrating, having to have the same conversations with a different version of me... but– [ It isn't their shared affliction that gives him pause this time, only sheer embarrassment. ] I don't really know how to do that. I've been trying. It's difficult.
He wasn't. [It's a quiet, thin whisper. Fragile as a gossamer thread.] But that isn't something you have to apologize to me for.
[Even later, he'll never know why he does it. He never had a conscious thought of it until it happened.
But his hand reaches out, out, out-
-and gently rests atop Maruki's joined hands.]
It isn't frustrating. I'll tell you that, in every life, no matter how many times it takes.
[Maybe he reaches out because he can't stop caring about Maruki Takuto, in any lifetime.
Maybe it's just that-
Even if I don't remember this, I'll never truly forget it either.]
I know it's difficult for you. It always has been, and I understand why now. [A year of watching his joys, his pains, his struggles.] It's just so hard to see you smile and give of yourself, over and over. It's so hard to see you smile over your pain. It... It hurts.
[A vine loosens in his chest.
Akira smiles, bittersweet, and he can't tell if it's from that, or from what he's about to say. After all... it's karmic, isn't it?]
...Maybe that's what I get. I'm sure that isn't dissimilar from what people think about me.
[It's not identical, but-
It's similar. Similar enough that Akira can finally understand the ways his friends worry for him. Similar enough that he wishes he knew the exact roadmap to guide Maruki out of the trappings of his own nature.]
Maruki's tired eyes go impossibly wide behind his glasses at that confession; he thinks he can hear Akira breathing easier after it's said, the words still lingering in the air between them even as he goes on, echoing softly. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
In trying to spare others the burden of his own feelings, he's hurt the person who always manages to see through his mask. Of course. Of course. It only makes sense, doesn't it? Because– ]
I– I understand. [ His hands twist together beneath Akira's grasp, so terrified to admit it himself. ] It hurts me to watch you do the same thing. It always has.
[ He can taste his own blood in his throat as thorned vines dislodge and slink away. The blossoms in his lungs are following suit, painfully slow but steady.
It's never hurt so badly to breathe clearly once more. ]
Maybe... [ The words come softly, slowly, because for once, Maruki is speaking the thoughts as they're occurring to him. There's nothing carefully considered and calculated about this now. ] Maybe showing our pains, at least to each other, would hurt less than plastering over them. That sounds counterintuitive, but... don't you think, Kurusu?
[ His hands turn over, fingers clasping clumsily around Akira's, as if he needs a lifeline for what he's trying to say. ]
I don't know if either of us can stop giving ourselves to others entirely, but if we at least try to be a little less selfless just with each other... [ His breath shakes, the backs of his teeth aching from how anathema this is to his entire being. Change requires discomfort, though, and Maruki knows he must change. ] Maybe we can both learn to want something for ourselves.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
well. i've got bad news, boss. we will almost certainly do this again.
Maybe. The real answer is maybe.
But it's easier, most days, to imagine that Akira failed. It isn't a lack of belief that he could live. It's that Akira must take responsibility for the life he didn't save.
His very worst dreams will always be the ones full of his hand, outstretched and useless.]
It still isn't fair to you. [Hoarse, quiet, and entirely truthful; it gives him the smallest measure of relief in his lungs, though that hadn't been Akira's intention. There's nothing else that Akira could ever imagine himself saying.] I don't want you to burden yourself with who you were to me. I want you to be able to smile, here, with the people that you've grown close to.
[Eren. Dolph. Akechi, inexplicably, of all people.
I just want you to be happy.
There are so few things that Akira wants for himself. But this is one of them.]
You don't have to chain yourself to the Maruki Takuto that I knew. I want-
[think of even one thing Maruki Takuto wants to do]
-you to want for yourself.
you're right we are our own worst enemies as ever
In the end, he wants to smile with Akira, too. More than anyone else.
Opening himself up to that burden, getting through it together... he wants to believe that will make it possible for them to be happy, but perhaps it's not true. Perhaps the only thing that will ever soothe this Kurusu Akira will be making it back to the Maruki Takuto he left behind.
Still, all of that is swept away from the forefront of his mind at those words, weighted down heavy with a profound meaning he doesn't understand the source of.
I want you to want for yourself.
Maruki blinks at his friend, his guiding light, as another vine slowly unwinds from around his trachea. ]
He wasn't any better at doing that than I am, was he?
[ How could any Maruki Takuto learn to want for themselves? ]
I'm sorry. It must be frustrating, having to have the same conversations with a different version of me... but– [ It isn't their shared affliction that gives him pause this time, only sheer embarrassment. ] I don't really know how to do that. I've been trying. It's difficult.
i hate what yama does to us
[Even later, he'll never know why he does it. He never had a conscious thought of it until it happened.
But his hand reaches out, out, out-
-and gently rests atop Maruki's joined hands.]
It isn't frustrating. I'll tell you that, in every life, no matter how many times it takes.
[Maybe he reaches out because he can't stop caring about Maruki Takuto, in any lifetime.
Maybe it's just that-
Even if I don't remember this, I'll never truly forget it either.]
I know it's difficult for you. It always has been, and I understand why now. [A year of watching his joys, his pains, his struggles.] It's just so hard to see you smile and give of yourself, over and over. It's so hard to see you smile over your pain. It... It hurts.
[A vine loosens in his chest.
Akira smiles, bittersweet, and he can't tell if it's from that, or from what he's about to say. After all... it's karmic, isn't it?]
...Maybe that's what I get. I'm sure that isn't dissimilar from what people think about me.
[It's not identical, but-
It's similar. Similar enough that Akira can finally understand the ways his friends worry for him. Similar enough that he wishes he knew the exact roadmap to guide Maruki out of the trappings of his own nature.]
surprise bitch bet you forgot about this one
Maruki's tired eyes go impossibly wide behind his glasses at that confession; he thinks he can hear Akira breathing easier after it's said, the words still lingering in the air between them even as he goes on, echoing softly. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
In trying to spare others the burden of his own feelings, he's hurt the person who always manages to see through his mask. Of course. Of course. It only makes sense, doesn't it? Because– ]
I– I understand. [ His hands twist together beneath Akira's grasp, so terrified to admit it himself. ] It hurts me to watch you do the same thing. It always has.
[ He can taste his own blood in his throat as thorned vines dislodge and slink away. The blossoms in his lungs are following suit, painfully slow but steady.
It's never hurt so badly to breathe clearly once more. ]
Maybe... [ The words come softly, slowly, because for once, Maruki is speaking the thoughts as they're occurring to him. There's nothing carefully considered and calculated about this now. ] Maybe showing our pains, at least to each other, would hurt less than plastering over them. That sounds counterintuitive, but... don't you think, Kurusu?
[ His hands turn over, fingers clasping clumsily around Akira's, as if he needs a lifeline for what he's trying to say. ]
I don't know if either of us can stop giving ourselves to others entirely, but if we at least try to be a little less selfless just with each other... [ His breath shakes, the backs of his teeth aching from how anathema this is to his entire being. Change requires discomfort, though, and Maruki knows he must change. ] Maybe we can both learn to want something for ourselves.