pheasantboy | [ic] inbox

[ He lifts his head a little and watches Shrike. A bit of clarity returns to his eyes. This is the first he's heard about Shrike going somewhere else before this, and, as Akechi is counting on, Ren is always ready to listen to people, even now. Perhaps especially now. ]

[He chuckles, a little bitterly.]

It's quite a bit easier to adjust to here than it was to the place I was before this. I suppose this is easy mode for you guys.

[It would take a miracle for Sparrow to survive two days of the Game, the real one rather than the sanitized version Reaper has presented him with so far. Of course, that's exactly what people said about the Twisters - those miracle cases, if they don't fizzle out immediately, are destined to shake things up.

As for Ren, in this state... Well. If someone were to ask Shrike, in such terms, he thinks a few days with an Entry Fee taking that guilt away so that Ren can think clearly would probably benefit him. But it's not his call to make even if he did have the power - and even if he did, an Entry Fee is still something you agree to. That which you value most, in exchange for a chance to try to get back to where you belong.]

I'll tell you about it some other time, I think. For now in the present moment, the ramen hasn't been in the fridge long enough to get cold, if you want to try some of the broth.

[That seems fair enough, though Sparrow still can't help being curious. He nods in reply.] That's fair enough.

What do you think, Ren? [Turning back to the centre of his world—as he was even before that world changed, for good or ill.] Could you drink some broth, at least?

[ He feels like he should be starting to get annoyed at the coddling. Or impatient, at least? But he's exhausted, and instead of being annoying, it's—nice. That people can see him right now. That Akechi can see him.

It's because he feels grateful for it, in a pathetic, clinging to their hems and begging kind of way, that he agrees to the broth. ] Okay.

I'll get it.

[Because you guys need to figure out what kind of eyeballs you're making at each other and it'll be awkward for him for a minute. Shrike ducks out of view into the kitchen.

Broth first - still warm as expected, it's only been in the fridge for a little while. He doesn't dress it up - there's more than enough broth for two or three bowls in each of the two containers he brought, a mugful won't make that much of a difference.]

[He thanks Shrike quietly as he leaves, but then turns all his attention on Ren. If only he was the sort who could pull him close to comfort him—yes, like Ann. That seems like it would be so nice. And useful, just about now.]

You don't have to talk about it. If you're feeling better, perhaps bed would be the best thing? I can stay. I don't mind.

[Or he can leave. It's just that, the last time he left, this happened.]

[ He doesn't even know what kind of bed is waiting for him, though it can't be much worse than Leblanc's crate-futon. His limbs feel like they weigh forty pounds each, so he opens his mouth to say, yeah, bed sounds good after the broth. But what comes out is something else. ]

I'm so fucking tired.

[ His ruined voice cracks. He blinks away tears. He just got finished with that, he doesn't want to do it again— ]

Hey. [Despite himself, he reaches out a tentative hand. Just to touch, nothing more.]

[ He doesn't flinch this time, but he doesn't lean into the touch, either. Looking away, he wipes his eyes and starts speaking in a low voice, like he's in a confessional. ]

You were so... not even mad, just crushed. When I did—what I did. You'd spent weeks trying to make sure I didn't do it. You got in my face and demanded it. If you remembered any of that, you'd...

[ You'd hate me. You'd never want to comfort me. You'd love this. But even in this weird, floating exhaustion, he can't finish the sentence. ]

[His hand rests on Ren's shoulder, ever so lightly; he's unsure what he's doing or if it helps. Rather than pull it back at once, he squeezes reassuringly, then lets go. This will be it, won't it? The mysterious reason Ren is hated?]

Ren. I couldn't ever hate you. No matter what you did, I'd try to understand. [That tumult of emotion outside Mementos, in Shido's Palace, locked inside him that last January and now down in his Shadow— it all might never have been.]

Please don't worry about this now. We're both here. And I have faith in us—together, we'll find a way to make this right.

That's what Shrike said. Kind of. I deserve a chance to make it right. [ He glances briefly towards the kitchen, then sniffles. ] But there isn't anything. All I can do is, is not submit. What good does that do anyone?

[This is so puzzling to him. But one thing's clear— there is a picture here, and he is going to make it come together. Yet if he understands too much, won't he just forget?]

Do you mind if I sit with you? I know you said I should hate you, but I don't. And my legs hurt. [Yes, it's a silly joke.]

[ The joke doesn't make him look any less miserable, but after a second, he scoots over a bit to make room for Akechi. ]

[So Akechi scoots into the place Ren left. He doesn't put his arm around him or anything awkward like that; he just sits there, arms touching, talking quietly.]

It sounds like you've endured something I can't begin to imagine. I suppose there's a reason for that. I'm trying not to think too hard about it, which is a little...

[Strange. Not how things should be. He should just walk away from it all. But how can he walk away when Ren needs him?]

But I think you should join me. Don't think about it. You've been fighting alone, but it's okay to rest, Ren. Just for tonight.

[ Ren stares at the floor, turning the words over in his head as best he can manage. Exhaustion slows his thoughts, and as Shrike predicted, his headache is getting worse. He drinks some more Crocodaid. ]

...It sounds like a trap.

[ He doesn't know why. There's nothing wrong with what Akechi said, rationally. ]

You don't trust me? [It's not at all hostile. It would hurt, but he needs to understand.]

[ But Ren cringes anyway, as though Akechi yelled at him. ]

No—I mean, yes, I... I trust you. [ It's not the complete truth, however, so he makes himself add: ] I trust your intentions.

[Ouch. Also, what a reaction that was. So Ren thinks Akechi means well, but finds him unreliable? Like everyone else? He leans down a little, craning to see Ren's face.] I see.

You know, something tells me Shrike would also say you need to rest. [In fact, where is he..? Allowing the two of them to talk, most likely.] Quite vehemently, too.

And I think you know it, don't you? But you don't dare? Or something else? [Does he not think he deserves it?]

I don't know. [ His voice comes out small and miserable. ] It just. It feels like I can't, or else—I don't know. [ He scrubs his hands over his face. ] Sorry. I don't know what I'm talking about.

We don't need to talk about it now. We can just sit here.

[Carefully, he reaches for Ren's hand, alert for any sign he isn't welcome.]

[ Ren is too tired to pretend that he doesn't want to hold Akechi's hand. It probably makes him evil or something, that he doesn't pull away, but he just. He's so tired. ]

[So he takes it, and he rests an awkward arm around Ren's shoulders, too. It doesn't feel like much of anything, to be honest; certainly nothing like he wondered. He's just so worried.]

It's all right, Ren. Everything can wait until tomorrow.

[There are going to be answers. And even if he can't find them alone, he knows the two of them can. But Ren believes he isn't him, doesn't he?]

[ After a moment, with a quiet sigh, Ren leans against Akechi. Definitely evil, he thinks; evil and weak. That's him. But Akechi is warm, and he knows Ren is sad. ]

[ic] inbox

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

skitters in like my sleep schedule isn't a total wreck

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject