[ Akira isn't a child, no– but he's as vulnerable as one, warm in Maruki's arms as he stumbles through an explanation he shouldn't have to give. How terrifying it must have been to wake up without a constant presence around. Maruki wracks his overtired brain: Has it happened to Akira in this reality before? Has anyone he was truly close to disappeared, temporarily or permanently?
If this was the first time he experienced it, that's even more unforgivable. Maruki hushes him softly, rubs a hand over his back. He isn't a child, but he can still be treated as tenderly as one would deserve to be. Akira, running around in his confusion, searching him out anywhere he might be only to return empty handed – Maruki's heart is already fit to crack open in his chest picturing it...
And then, that question.
Did it hurt you?
A war rages inside Maruki, rising up hot and fast. First, foremost, always– he has to be strong for the person he's with, especially when they're in such pain, especially when it was caused by him, especially when it is Kurusu Akira. He ought to be stalwart, hold both of them up through sheer force of will.
But then, in contrast–
How can he ever wear a mask around Kurusu Akira again? In this world, they had already cast them aside, fought as equals just as they were opponents in the true reality. This Akira steadied him with compassionate words and firm resolve in his empty office, and that Akira gripped his wrist to drag him into his second chance at life, sparing and saving him – how could he ever lie, even if it was to protect both their hearts, and say it didn't hurt?
Maruki can't burden him with this. Not now. But neither can he shoulder it alone.
What, then, is he to do? ]
I...
[ It's as if what happened to him has been settling in slowly, drip by drip, since the moment he reappeared. With Chihaya, he was too panicked about finding everyone again. With Eren, he was too consumed by his Other's grief. With Akechi, there was too much blood in his mouth. But here and now, wrapped in Akira's arms, in the quiet of a darkened room–
Maruki tips his chin down, rests his forehead against Akira's shoulder. Draws an unsteady breath and shakes his head. ]
I'm sorry. I'm here. You won't have to search for me again.
[ A beat, as heavy and thudding as his changed heart in his chest. ]
I'm not hurt right now.
[ It's true. He's not. Every bruise from that final fight faded. Every deep line Akechi gouged into his face was healed before he came up here. The phantom pains linger, but here and now, Maruki is whole.
He lifts his head, doesn't break the hug, but pulls back enough to be able to look at Akira. In the end, faced with those bright eyes, he can only be honest. ]
I returned to the true reality for a bit. It was difficult, but... I'm alright. [ A weak smile, exhaustion creeping into his own expression fast. ] Perhaps it's a story for another time, eh? You've been so worried. I don't want to pile on.
[Maruki is leaning back, looking at him. He's looking at Akira, so he'll see the exact moment that the shift occurs in him.
The life seeps and sparks into his eyes, not quite a fire, but embers that flicker to a steady, heated glow. He'll see the way his back straightens, weakened but reinforced, new life springing up with the words. His expression shifts in the most minute way, perhaps unnoticeable to another eye, but for one who's just returned... Maruki will surely be able to see the echo of Joker.
The life stirs in him, because Maruki needs him.
The spark is trying to light and catch, because something has happened - and Akira can't afford to stay weak and numb right now.]
No.
[So he'll force himself to feel, even if it burns.]
You're not hurt now- but you were... weren't you?
[Something has happened. It pings in his chest, rapid as a hummingbird wing. Akira can tell, because these are familiar lines to read between.
He's good at doing it himself, after all.]
You don't... [His voice is still weak. Even when he continues it's still weak, and so he will keep trying until it comes out strong.] You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But please... Tell me one thing, if you can't say anything else.
[One hand drifts from his back, grips at his sleeve. Desperate, pleading. He is one part Joker, and one part the child that clings to serenity.]
Of course he sees it. A spark, a flame, or a raging inferno – it matters not. Any existence of that light in Akira's eyes is one that will reach him, pierce right through every mask he wears, and wrap around his heart.
It's Joker, yes–
But more than that, it's Akira. He saw that conviction long before he ever saw a Phantom Thief leveling a gun directly at his soul.
I want to tell you. He tries to shape the words and finds his mouth tight, twisted in pain. I want to tell you, his heart cries out, but I don't know how. Not yet.
Akira didn't judge him for what he did to Rumi– neither of them did, neither here nor back home. But when that same power was leveled at his friends, at reality at large, at him, at Akechi–
He can't fathom saying it, risking seeing betrayal in those bright eyes all over again. One day, he will – he must – he wants to, so badly that it's tearing through him from the inside out–
But not yet. Not yet.
He finally manages to wrench his mouth open, fully intending to say so, to make sure Akira knows that he won't be kept in the dark forever–
And he tastes salt.
Maruki blinks. Close as they are, even if he wasn't wearing his glasses, Akira still wouldn't be blurry. He is now, though, and Maruki blinks again, eyelids heavy, wet warmth spilling over and trailing down his cheeks. He's never been a loud crier. Not until the night he shattered to pieces above his perfect reality, right in front of this very person.
He doesn't cry out now, doesn't scream, doesn't rage at the heavens. Maruki only nods, one hand unwinding from around Akira to come up and press the heel of his palm to his cheek, scrubbing those few tears away. ]
I did. I saw him, I–
[ His voice sounds wretched, small and strained, and he can't fall apart like this. Not now, not when he hasn't yet explained himself, not when Akira is still hurting even as that fire inside him is trying to catch and light again.
When his head drops down, gravity carries the next tears to splash against his lenses. He tugs his glasses off, presses the back of his hand to his eyes, shakes his head. A shaky, watery laugh escapes; he isn't even trying to save face with it. Maruki's genuinely stunned at his own response, like his hands have been left empty as the skein of his self-control has utterly unspooled in seconds flat. ]
I'm sorry. Hah... I don't know what's come over me...
[And isn't it something, that Akira's hands curl forward like it's the most natural thing in the world?]
It's alright.
[Quiet and feather-soft, he tugs at Maruki until his head can rest on his shoulder. New, fresh, yet old and practiced. He's soothed this soul before, even if the body that held it was so much smaller at the time. Akira wants to believe he always had this capacity to care for him, but maybe in this specific way... maybe this world has branded it onto his brain, a permanent fixture that will never leave even if it forgets for a time.
He's willing to accept that.]
Overwhelmed. Missing him, after finally seeing him again. Processing things, that happened here or happened back home. There's so many reasons... and you still don't need any reason for it at all. [His hand rubs in circles that his mind remembers how to make.] You need to, and that's enough.
[What is it about soothing Maruki that makes all the scattered pieces click back into place in his chest?
none of it felt as right as it did to hold you in my arms and see you smile.
...Maybe it's just as simple as that.]
It's alright. [He says it again, somehow even quieter than the time before.] It's okay if you can't keep it inside. We don't need to be strong right now.
[We don't need to be strong, even as Maruki makes him feel stronger than he has in an entire week's time.]
[ Just like that, in mere seconds and through nothing more than a shoulder to rest his heavy head on and a hand rubbing soothing circles into his back–
Just like that, he's a child again. Curious about and terrified by the world around him in equal measure, always feeling too small and too in the way– maybe more of Maruki's issues began there than he realized. That helplessness, that feeling of never being able to do enough, was ingrained deep in his soul long before he stood uselessly while the person he loved most and her family were torn apart by an unjust reality.
For just a moment, he lets himself feel that. The full weight of his sorrow, the great aching chasm that yawned open in his heart the day he woke up alone in his apartment, the complex blend of grief and joy that returning to this reality brings – it all brews and swirls in Maruki's mind as Akira's words wash over him, warm as bathwater.
It's all of what he said and more. Of course he's overwhelmed – he would never tell Akira exactly what he's been through in the hours since arriving back in this reality, but anyone would be overwhelmed by that. Of course he misses that other Akira, no matter how grateful he is to be back with this one. Of course he's processing, of course he doesn't need a reason, of course–
Of course he doesn't need to be strong.
He's never been weaker than in front of Kurusu Akira. He's shattered to pieces before him without any hope that the shards would be picked up and molded back together, but they were– they are again now as he's held safe and still, whispered to in the darkness.
I needed this, Maruki finds himself thinking as fresh tears gather in his eyes. I needed you with me after everything, even though it was impossible, even though I know I had no right to ask for it.
It matters not. He got through it. He's here. He has Akira now, and he'll never stop thanking every star in this unfamiliar sky for him. ]
I'll tell you about it one day... soon, I hope. I promise. I will.
[ Maruki doesn't pick his head up. One arm comes to clutch around Akira's back, as tightly as a lifeline.
With this new heart, he has to learn to hurt, has to learn to grieve, has to learn to chase his own happiness, has to learn to live for no one but himself–
And he has to learn to ask for what he needs. ]
For right now... can I stay with you like this for a while?
[It's a promise murmured quietly at the side of his head, new and old and constant. Always. There will always be a place for Maruki with him.]
Stay right here, for as long as you need. [His hand comes up to pause at the top of his back, right below his neck. Keeping him close as he purges whatever it is that's overwhelmed his heart.] There's no hurry. Not for any of it.
[Not for his tears, and not for whatever it is he has yet to tell Akira.]
You're home now... [Relief mixes in with the comfort he still needs to give. In a moment of weakness, he lets his own head rest against Maruki, too.] ...so just take your time.
[It would be wrong to say there's no fear in his heart. The world took him once, and it could so easily do it again. Time is fleeting, ticking away no matter how desperately Akira tries to grip it in two human hands. There's no telling if it could happen all over, nor when.
So he'll wish for it now, just in his heart. He'll wish for it now, even if his contract has already been whispered to him in a dream. He'll wish for it now, even if it coats his heart in the blood of this world.
I wish for Maruki Takuto to stay here, right here, and have all of the time he needs.
If a price comes for his head... if it is righteous, then he will pay it.
And if it's something his morals can't accept, he'll simply have to slip out of its trappings like a thief in the night.]
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no subject
If this was the first time he experienced it, that's even more unforgivable. Maruki hushes him softly, rubs a hand over his back. He isn't a child, but he can still be treated as tenderly as one would deserve to be. Akira, running around in his confusion, searching him out anywhere he might be only to return empty handed – Maruki's heart is already fit to crack open in his chest picturing it...
And then, that question.
Did it hurt you?
A war rages inside Maruki, rising up hot and fast. First, foremost, always– he has to be strong for the person he's with, especially when they're in such pain, especially when it was caused by him, especially when it is Kurusu Akira. He ought to be stalwart, hold both of them up through sheer force of will.
But then, in contrast–
How can he ever wear a mask around Kurusu Akira again? In this world, they had already cast them aside, fought as equals just as they were opponents in the true reality. This Akira steadied him with compassionate words and firm resolve in his empty office, and that Akira gripped his wrist to drag him into his second chance at life, sparing and saving him – how could he ever lie, even if it was to protect both their hearts, and say it didn't hurt?
Maruki can't burden him with this. Not now. But neither can he shoulder it alone.
What, then, is he to do? ]
I...
[ It's as if what happened to him has been settling in slowly, drip by drip, since the moment he reappeared. With Chihaya, he was too panicked about finding everyone again. With Eren, he was too consumed by his Other's grief. With Akechi, there was too much blood in his mouth. But here and now, wrapped in Akira's arms, in the quiet of a darkened room–
Maruki tips his chin down, rests his forehead against Akira's shoulder. Draws an unsteady breath and shakes his head. ]
I'm sorry. I'm here. You won't have to search for me again.
[ A beat, as heavy and thudding as his changed heart in his chest. ]
I'm not hurt right now.
[ It's true. He's not. Every bruise from that final fight faded. Every deep line Akechi gouged into his face was healed before he came up here. The phantom pains linger, but here and now, Maruki is whole.
He lifts his head, doesn't break the hug, but pulls back enough to be able to look at Akira. In the end, faced with those bright eyes, he can only be honest. ]
I returned to the true reality for a bit. It was difficult, but... I'm alright. [ A weak smile, exhaustion creeping into his own expression fast. ] Perhaps it's a story for another time, eh? You've been so worried. I don't want to pile on.
no subject
The life seeps and sparks into his eyes, not quite a fire, but embers that flicker to a steady, heated glow. He'll see the way his back straightens, weakened but reinforced, new life springing up with the words. His expression shifts in the most minute way, perhaps unnoticeable to another eye, but for one who's just returned... Maruki will surely be able to see the echo of Joker.
The life stirs in him, because Maruki needs him.
The spark is trying to light and catch, because something has happened - and Akira can't afford to stay weak and numb right now.]
No.
[So he'll force himself to feel, even if it burns.]
You're not hurt now- but you were... weren't you?
[Something has happened. It pings in his chest, rapid as a hummingbird wing. Akira can tell, because these are familiar lines to read between.
He's good at doing it himself, after all.]
You don't... [His voice is still weak. Even when he continues it's still weak, and so he will keep trying until it comes out strong.] You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But please... Tell me one thing, if you can't say anything else.
[One hand drifts from his back, grips at his sleeve. Desperate, pleading. He is one part Joker, and one part the child that clings to serenity.]
Did you see him again?
[Maruki will know. He'll know who Akira means.]
no subject
Of course he sees it. A spark, a flame, or a raging inferno – it matters not. Any existence of that light in Akira's eyes is one that will reach him, pierce right through every mask he wears, and wrap around his heart.
It's Joker, yes–
But more than that, it's Akira. He saw that conviction long before he ever saw a Phantom Thief leveling a gun directly at his soul.
I want to tell you. He tries to shape the words and finds his mouth tight, twisted in pain. I want to tell you, his heart cries out, but I don't know how. Not yet.
Akira didn't judge him for what he did to Rumi– neither of them did, neither here nor back home. But when that same power was leveled at his friends, at reality at large, at him, at Akechi–
He can't fathom saying it, risking seeing betrayal in those bright eyes all over again. One day, he will – he must – he wants to, so badly that it's tearing through him from the inside out–
But not yet. Not yet.
He finally manages to wrench his mouth open, fully intending to say so, to make sure Akira knows that he won't be kept in the dark forever–
And he tastes salt.
Maruki blinks. Close as they are, even if he wasn't wearing his glasses, Akira still wouldn't be blurry. He is now, though, and Maruki blinks again, eyelids heavy, wet warmth spilling over and trailing down his cheeks. He's never been a loud crier. Not until the night he shattered to pieces above his perfect reality, right in front of this very person.
He doesn't cry out now, doesn't scream, doesn't rage at the heavens. Maruki only nods, one hand unwinding from around Akira to come up and press the heel of his palm to his cheek, scrubbing those few tears away. ]
I did. I saw him, I–
[ His voice sounds wretched, small and strained, and he can't fall apart like this. Not now, not when he hasn't yet explained himself, not when Akira is still hurting even as that fire inside him is trying to catch and light again.
When his head drops down, gravity carries the next tears to splash against his lenses. He tugs his glasses off, presses the back of his hand to his eyes, shakes his head. A shaky, watery laugh escapes; he isn't even trying to save face with it. Maruki's genuinely stunned at his own response, like his hands have been left empty as the skein of his self-control has utterly unspooled in seconds flat. ]
I'm sorry. Hah... I don't know what's come over me...
no subject
It's alright.
[Quiet and feather-soft, he tugs at Maruki until his head can rest on his shoulder. New, fresh, yet old and practiced. He's soothed this soul before, even if the body that held it was so much smaller at the time. Akira wants to believe he always had this capacity to care for him, but maybe in this specific way... maybe this world has branded it onto his brain, a permanent fixture that will never leave even if it forgets for a time.
He's willing to accept that.]
Overwhelmed. Missing him, after finally seeing him again. Processing things, that happened here or happened back home. There's so many reasons... and you still don't need any reason for it at all. [His hand rubs in circles that his mind remembers how to make.] You need to, and that's enough.
[What is it about soothing Maruki that makes all the scattered pieces click back into place in his chest?
none of it felt as right as it did to hold you in my arms and see you smile.
...Maybe it's just as simple as that.]
It's alright. [He says it again, somehow even quieter than the time before.] It's okay if you can't keep it inside. We don't need to be strong right now.
[We don't need to be strong, even as Maruki makes him feel stronger than he has in an entire week's time.]
no subject
Just like that, he's a child again. Curious about and terrified by the world around him in equal measure, always feeling too small and too in the way– maybe more of Maruki's issues began there than he realized. That helplessness, that feeling of never being able to do enough, was ingrained deep in his soul long before he stood uselessly while the person he loved most and her family were torn apart by an unjust reality.
For just a moment, he lets himself feel that. The full weight of his sorrow, the great aching chasm that yawned open in his heart the day he woke up alone in his apartment, the complex blend of grief and joy that returning to this reality brings – it all brews and swirls in Maruki's mind as Akira's words wash over him, warm as bathwater.
It's all of what he said and more. Of course he's overwhelmed – he would never tell Akira exactly what he's been through in the hours since arriving back in this reality, but anyone would be overwhelmed by that. Of course he misses that other Akira, no matter how grateful he is to be back with this one. Of course he's processing, of course he doesn't need a reason, of course–
Of course he doesn't need to be strong.
He's never been weaker than in front of Kurusu Akira. He's shattered to pieces before him without any hope that the shards would be picked up and molded back together, but they were– they are again now as he's held safe and still, whispered to in the darkness.
I needed this, Maruki finds himself thinking as fresh tears gather in his eyes. I needed you with me after everything, even though it was impossible, even though I know I had no right to ask for it.
It matters not. He got through it. He's here. He has Akira now, and he'll never stop thanking every star in this unfamiliar sky for him. ]
I'll tell you about it one day... soon, I hope. I promise. I will.
[ Maruki doesn't pick his head up. One arm comes to clutch around Akira's back, as tightly as a lifeline.
With this new heart, he has to learn to hurt, has to learn to grieve, has to learn to chase his own happiness, has to learn to live for no one but himself–
And he has to learn to ask for what he needs. ]
For right now... can I stay with you like this for a while?
stares at my bullets like sadgedog
[It's a promise murmured quietly at the side of his head, new and old and constant. Always. There will always be a place for Maruki with him.]
Stay right here, for as long as you need. [His hand comes up to pause at the top of his back, right below his neck. Keeping him close as he purges whatever it is that's overwhelmed his heart.] There's no hurry. Not for any of it.
[Not for his tears, and not for whatever it is he has yet to tell Akira.]
You're home now... [Relief mixes in with the comfort he still needs to give. In a moment of weakness, he lets his own head rest against Maruki, too.] ...so just take your time.
[It would be wrong to say there's no fear in his heart. The world took him once, and it could so easily do it again. Time is fleeting, ticking away no matter how desperately Akira tries to grip it in two human hands. There's no telling if it could happen all over, nor when.
So he'll wish for it now, just in his heart. He'll wish for it now, even if his contract has already been whispered to him in a dream. He'll wish for it now, even if it coats his heart in the blood of this world.
I wish for Maruki Takuto to stay here, right here, and have all of the time he needs.
If a price comes for his head... if it is righteous, then he will pay it.
And if it's something his morals can't accept, he'll simply have to slip out of its trappings like a thief in the night.]