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[Does he want to be? He has no experience at all when it comes to love and dating... sure, he's confessed his feelings to others, but they've never... been returned before.
He swallows down his nervousness.]
I like you a lot, Lila-san, but I never really thought of myself as someone who was worthy enough to be with another person. Also, if I'm being honest... there's another person I like, too.
I don't know how you feel about that kind of thing.
He swallows down his nervousness.]
I like you a lot, Lila-san, but I never really thought of myself as someone who was worthy enough to be with another person. Also, if I'm being honest... there's another person I like, too.
I don't know how you feel about that kind of thing.
[That's very honest. Which is good, technically, but Lila doesn't really have time to even try to recognize that before the lights in the surrounding floors dim to almost nothing and then slowly rise again. When her room is illuminated properly again, she realizes she can feel her heartbeat in her ears.]
[If what they've been doing isn't being together, which it must not be because Komaeda doesn't think he's worthy of that — if this is just him liking her, and he likes someone else, then what—]
"that kind of thing" meaning what exactly
[If what they've been doing isn't being together, which it must not be because Komaeda doesn't think he's worthy of that — if this is just him liking her, and he likes someone else, then what—]
"that kind of thing" meaning what exactly
[In some ways, Lila is easy to read. The lights dim, even though he's only one floor up and a couple doors down. He glances upwards, at the frosted glass sconce on his wall, and then back down at his laptop. He pauses, pressing his hands to his face and smooths fingers—both feeling and not—over his cheeks and through his fleshy hair.
Deep breath. Fingers on the keys.]
It's hard to explain, I like people for who they are... and I've liked multiple people in the past before, too.
It... it feels like I have too much love to give, maybe? I like different things about different people... and the reason I like you is different from the reason I like someone else...
[Ugh. This is hard. He's been thinking a lot about it, though.]
It doesn't mean I like you any less, but... not telling you about it would probably make you hate me, right?
Deep breath. Fingers on the keys.]
It's hard to explain, I like people for who they are... and I've liked multiple people in the past before, too.
It... it feels like I have too much love to give, maybe? I like different things about different people... and the reason I like you is different from the reason I like someone else...
[Ugh. This is hard. He's been thinking a lot about it, though.]
It doesn't mean I like you any less, but... not telling you about it would probably make you hate me, right?
yes
[That, first and foremost: yes. She hates secrets, and she hates lies. He understands at least part of that, which is good, but she wonders if he really gets it — how hard it is for her to trust anyone. How much work she's put into trusting him. This feels like a breach of trust, even though it isn't. She doesn't own him. It's not his fault this feels like safety slipping through her fingers like sand.]
[When she looks at it through the fear, she can see — that maybe she's not so surprised after all. It sounds like Komaeda. Like someone who feels too big and loves too hard, too much, too wide. She doesn't really understand it, but then, her kind of alone isn't the same as his. He's been trapped in a different kind of cycle than she has.]
[I don't know how you feel about that kind of thing, he said, and what he meant was I don't know how you feel about the way I feel things. She doesn't . . .]
[Is that even a question she gets to answer?]
i like the way you are. i just don't
it scares me. i don't know. whoever it is, i know they're nicer than me, and you can touch them. if you're into two people and one of them is me, the end of the story is kind of inevitable, don't you think?
[That, first and foremost: yes. She hates secrets, and she hates lies. He understands at least part of that, which is good, but she wonders if he really gets it — how hard it is for her to trust anyone. How much work she's put into trusting him. This feels like a breach of trust, even though it isn't. She doesn't own him. It's not his fault this feels like safety slipping through her fingers like sand.]
[When she looks at it through the fear, she can see — that maybe she's not so surprised after all. It sounds like Komaeda. Like someone who feels too big and loves too hard, too much, too wide. She doesn't really understand it, but then, her kind of alone isn't the same as his. He's been trapped in a different kind of cycle than she has.]
[I don't know how you feel about that kind of thing, he said, and what he meant was I don't know how you feel about the way I feel things. She doesn't . . .]
[Is that even a question she gets to answer?]
i like the way you are. i just don't
it scares me. i don't know. whoever it is, i know they're nicer than me, and you can touch them. if you're into two people and one of them is me, the end of the story is kind of inevitable, don't you think?
[With all the honesty stuff, it's probably for the best that he simply... tells her. So that she doesn't wonder who the other person is... right?]
Well, he's not really nicer than you... but he's a good friend to me. It's Yugi-kun, the vampire... do you know him?
[She might not, but it doesn't matter, because at least she knows.]
Regardless, I don't want to scare you Lila-san... that's why I'm telling you this now, that way you can be certain whether you want me to be your boyfriend or not.
Because if you tell me you don't want me dating other people, I can do that... but I also won't stop feeling the way I do, either. So... what do you want to do?
Well, he's not really nicer than you... but he's a good friend to me. It's Yugi-kun, the vampire... do you know him?
[She might not, but it doesn't matter, because at least she knows.]
Regardless, I don't want to scare you Lila-san... that's why I'm telling you this now, that way you can be certain whether you want me to be your boyfriend or not.
Because if you tell me you don't want me dating other people, I can do that... but I also won't stop feeling the way I do, either. So... what do you want to do?
[What does she want to do?]
[She wants to stick her hand down Yugi-kun the vampire's throat and pull his heart out through his teeth. She wants to close her laptop and walk outside and keep walking until she runs out of world to walk in. She wants to use every insult she knows. She wants to cause somebody, anybody pain, even (especially) if it's herself.]
[It's not that it's even necessarily bad. It's just unexpected, and she doesn't understand it, and she thought that he was asking for confirmation when really . . .]
[Really, she fucked all of this up, didn't she. Right from the start.]
if i say yes i do want to date you but i don't want you dating other people, you'll be in pain. because you love him and you can't be with him. i don't want to hurt you like that.
i thought we were dating, yeah. that's the answer to the first question you asked. i don't know what the right answer to this question is, i just know that hurting you like that isn't it. i want to be able to share you but i've never shared anything in my life, komaeda.
[. . .]
when you look at me, it feels like i'm the only person in the universe. you said you were mine. you try hard to understand me and make me feel safe. does that feeling stay if i share you?
[She wants to stick her hand down Yugi-kun the vampire's throat and pull his heart out through his teeth. She wants to close her laptop and walk outside and keep walking until she runs out of world to walk in. She wants to use every insult she knows. She wants to cause somebody, anybody pain, even (especially) if it's herself.]
[It's not that it's even necessarily bad. It's just unexpected, and she doesn't understand it, and she thought that he was asking for confirmation when really . . .]
[Really, she fucked all of this up, didn't she. Right from the start.]
if i say yes i do want to date you but i don't want you dating other people, you'll be in pain. because you love him and you can't be with him. i don't want to hurt you like that.
i thought we were dating, yeah. that's the answer to the first question you asked. i don't know what the right answer to this question is, i just know that hurting you like that isn't it. i want to be able to share you but i've never shared anything in my life, komaeda.
[. . .]
when you look at me, it feels like i'm the only person in the universe. you said you were mine. you try hard to understand me and make me feel safe. does that feeling stay if i share you?
[If Komaeda were any more perceptive, or perhaps wise, he would've had this conversation in person. In retrospect, this is definitely the sort of thing you talk about face-to-face and not over the network. It probably isn't the time to mention that the other Yugi rejected him, either.
Because right now, he can only imagine the expression Lila wears on the other side of the screen.
Is she frowning? He knows she's upset but is she flickering around her edges, her hair flared up like it's been caught in a vortex or like a towering inferno? Has she stretched into a shape decidedly less human? There's so much he thinks about, about how he doesn't want to hurt her just as much as she doesn't want to hurt him.
Lila is tough but it seems the more time that passes, the more he wants to hold her gently to his heart, with gloved hands to protect her fragile composition. It's only text, but he wants to give her that warmth, still.]
I... I don't think I could ever really put into words how much you mean to me. You also make me feel safe, and... like I can talk about the things I don't talk about with anyone else. Even if it doesn't make sense, you try to understand... and because of that, I also want to protect you. I don't want to hurt or scare you, Lila-san.
I am yours. The feelings I have for you, I don't have them for anyone else. These are feelings in the shape of you, only. I don't know if it makes sense but that's just... how it feels, I guess. I don't want to make you worry more than I already do, especially not something like this. I want you to trust me, because... I know it's hard.
I'm not used to people trusting me, either. I don't want to lose that, or you.
Because right now, he can only imagine the expression Lila wears on the other side of the screen.
Is she frowning? He knows she's upset but is she flickering around her edges, her hair flared up like it's been caught in a vortex or like a towering inferno? Has she stretched into a shape decidedly less human? There's so much he thinks about, about how he doesn't want to hurt her just as much as she doesn't want to hurt him.
Lila is tough but it seems the more time that passes, the more he wants to hold her gently to his heart, with gloved hands to protect her fragile composition. It's only text, but he wants to give her that warmth, still.]
I... I don't think I could ever really put into words how much you mean to me. You also make me feel safe, and... like I can talk about the things I don't talk about with anyone else. Even if it doesn't make sense, you try to understand... and because of that, I also want to protect you. I don't want to hurt or scare you, Lila-san.
I am yours. The feelings I have for you, I don't have them for anyone else. These are feelings in the shape of you, only. I don't know if it makes sense but that's just... how it feels, I guess. I don't want to make you worry more than I already do, especially not something like this. I want you to trust me, because... I know it's hard.
I'm not used to people trusting me, either. I don't want to lose that, or you.
[One of the things about Cassel is . . . it used to be, behind closed doors, when it was just them, he was just a boy, kind of awkward sometimes, kind of funny. But when she came back, he wasn't like that anymore. Maybe underneath it all that boy was still alive, but the part of him she saw was the part that calculated the words he wanted to say for maximum effect before he let them out into the world. Who made words in the shape of influence, who pushed, who didn't even realize he was pushing half the time.]
[He wouldn't ever say anything like what Komaeda's saying now, because it's too clumsy. Awkward, unpolished, like a rock before tumbling. Feelings in the shape of you, a phrase at once clunky and painfully beautiful and so honest it hurts. Komaeda says this thing to her because, while he's probably thinking before he sends these messages, he isn't doing that to craft an image, to build a suit of armor. He's doing it to defang his words as much as possible. To keep from hurting her. To protect her.]
[Feelings in the shape of you, he says, and it doesn't fix everything — but all of a sudden, she recognizes that she was panicking and that she isn't anymore.]
[Because she believes him. Just like that.]
it makes sense.
i don't really know how it works. or how it feels, wanting more than one person at a time. i don't think i do anyway. [Does she still love Cassel, as much as she hates him? Probably. She doesn't want to talk about that.] but i never really knew that many people my age. i don't know what i'm feeling except mad most of the time. except when i'm with you i can feel the other things more easily. like you can pull some of the other bullshit back for a little while and it's okay to be whatever i am underneath all of that. i've never had anyone make me feel like that before.
i don't think i'm mad now. i think i was scared, but i'm less scared now. if everything is still going to be the same with us, or the same but more, then i'm not scared of your feelings. even the ones i don't understand.
[He wouldn't ever say anything like what Komaeda's saying now, because it's too clumsy. Awkward, unpolished, like a rock before tumbling. Feelings in the shape of you, a phrase at once clunky and painfully beautiful and so honest it hurts. Komaeda says this thing to her because, while he's probably thinking before he sends these messages, he isn't doing that to craft an image, to build a suit of armor. He's doing it to defang his words as much as possible. To keep from hurting her. To protect her.]
[Feelings in the shape of you, he says, and it doesn't fix everything — but all of a sudden, she recognizes that she was panicking and that she isn't anymore.]
[Because she believes him. Just like that.]
it makes sense.
i don't really know how it works. or how it feels, wanting more than one person at a time. i don't think i do anyway. [Does she still love Cassel, as much as she hates him? Probably. She doesn't want to talk about that.] but i never really knew that many people my age. i don't know what i'm feeling except mad most of the time. except when i'm with you i can feel the other things more easily. like you can pull some of the other bullshit back for a little while and it's okay to be whatever i am underneath all of that. i've never had anyone make me feel like that before.
i don't think i'm mad now. i think i was scared, but i'm less scared now. if everything is still going to be the same with us, or the same but more, then i'm not scared of your feelings. even the ones i don't understand.
[12:46 AM, a specter stands before apartment 701.
Or at least, most would believe as much, what with Nagito Komaeda having disappeared from thin air for over a month. The reality of his situation remains on his chest: Y-shaped, closed but the angry reddish purple of a still-healing wound. His energy, too, remains sapped. It took everything just to revive—and even then, he's two fog cycles late.
Yet, he doesn't stand before his own apartment, or yearn to crawl into his own bed. Instead, as despair swirls within the very depths of his soul, Komaeda wants for nothing more than the warmth of a barely-there static-charged embrace.
How long has it been since he saw Lila? Months? He doesn't remember—too lost in his own feelings for weeks before he even disappeared. It doesn't matter now, though. He raises a hand, then taps the raw knuckles of it quietly against the front door. Whether she answers right away or not, Komaeda turns and slumps his back against the doorframe to wait.]
Or at least, most would believe as much, what with Nagito Komaeda having disappeared from thin air for over a month. The reality of his situation remains on his chest: Y-shaped, closed but the angry reddish purple of a still-healing wound. His energy, too, remains sapped. It took everything just to revive—and even then, he's two fog cycles late.
Yet, he doesn't stand before his own apartment, or yearn to crawl into his own bed. Instead, as despair swirls within the very depths of his soul, Komaeda wants for nothing more than the warmth of a barely-there static-charged embrace.
How long has it been since he saw Lila? Months? He doesn't remember—too lost in his own feelings for weeks before he even disappeared. It doesn't matter now, though. He raises a hand, then taps the raw knuckles of it quietly against the front door. Whether she answers right away or not, Komaeda turns and slumps his back against the doorframe to wait.]
[Keeping track of Komaeda is like trying to keep hold of the wind. She hates it — especially at times like these. She thought he was just avoiding her, but ever since Steve, an awful nagging reality has come crawling down the back of her neck to nest in her nervous system.]
[What if something like that happened to Komaeda?]
[In a way she's relieved when the fog starts and he doesn't show up. That means wherever he is, he must not be dead. He must just be avoiding her after all. She hates that, but she'd hate him dead worse, hate him suffering most of all. So this is how she has to soothe herself, her own personal version of everything's okay, dumbass, even though she knows it isn't.]
[She isn't asleep when the knock comes, or she might not even have heard it. She usually stays up all night anyway, her body craving darkness and the safety of shadow, and these days more than before she doesn't trust the daylight. So she's curled up on the couch under a blanket that keeps falling through her, grumpily watching bad TV, when the soft knock comes.]
[No one knocks on her door.]
[For a second she's frozen, staring at the doorknob as though expecting it to turn on its own. Her heart's in her throat as she gets up from the couch, as she crosses the room, as she looks out the peephole and sees a shock of white hair.]
[She pulls the door open so hard it slams right through her and bounces off the inside wall of her apartment. Eyes wider than ever and shining, she reaches for him, voice too loud for the quiet space.]
Komaeda? K— where the fuck have you— Komaeda? [Is it really you?]
[What if something like that happened to Komaeda?]
[In a way she's relieved when the fog starts and he doesn't show up. That means wherever he is, he must not be dead. He must just be avoiding her after all. She hates that, but she'd hate him dead worse, hate him suffering most of all. So this is how she has to soothe herself, her own personal version of everything's okay, dumbass, even though she knows it isn't.]
[She isn't asleep when the knock comes, or she might not even have heard it. She usually stays up all night anyway, her body craving darkness and the safety of shadow, and these days more than before she doesn't trust the daylight. So she's curled up on the couch under a blanket that keeps falling through her, grumpily watching bad TV, when the soft knock comes.]
[No one knocks on her door.]
[For a second she's frozen, staring at the doorknob as though expecting it to turn on its own. Her heart's in her throat as she gets up from the couch, as she crosses the room, as she looks out the peephole and sees a shock of white hair.]
[She pulls the door open so hard it slams right through her and bounces off the inside wall of her apartment. Eyes wider than ever and shining, she reaches for him, voice too loud for the quiet space.]
Komaeda? K— where the fuck have you— Komaeda? [Is it really you?]
[By the time Lila answers, his eyes have already slipped closed. Sleepless flesh rims them, and though he had merely fallen into an exhausted lull, he barely startles when even her door slams open. Slowly, those lashes flutter, and the gaze he casts upwards is listless.]
Ah… I suppose you’ve forgotten what I look like already, huh? [Komaeda manages a lopsided smile despite his appearance; but while his words are meant in humor, there’s a distinct emptiness to them.
In spite of his state, however, Komaeda summons the strength to pull himself back up to standing—-albeit with his weight braced heavily against her doorframe.]
Can you help me…? I didn’t want to worry Ikusaba-san and Ludenberg-san, but I guess I wouldn’t blame you if you hate me after disappearing, too.
Ah… I suppose you’ve forgotten what I look like already, huh? [Komaeda manages a lopsided smile despite his appearance; but while his words are meant in humor, there’s a distinct emptiness to them.
In spite of his state, however, Komaeda summons the strength to pull himself back up to standing—-albeit with his weight braced heavily against her doorframe.]
Can you help me…? I didn’t want to worry Ikusaba-san and Ludenberg-san, but I guess I wouldn’t blame you if you hate me after disappearing, too.
[Ugh. That's Komaeda all right. Even in the midst of painful relief at seeing him again, she feels a spark of irritation that's almost comforting. Her expression twists, a little too complex to be readable.]
Don't be stupid. I don't hate you. Get inside, go.
[Because maybe there's a good reason he was gone — maybe — but looking at him, she fucking doubts it.]
[After shoving him inside with the strongest spectral pushes she can manage, she slams the door, locks it, and stands in front of it. Not like she could actually stop someone from getting in probably, but she'd damn well try.]
What is it? What do you need?
Don't be stupid. I don't hate you. Get inside, go.
[Because maybe there's a good reason he was gone — maybe — but looking at him, she fucking doubts it.]
[After shoving him inside with the strongest spectral pushes she can manage, she slams the door, locks it, and stands in front of it. Not like she could actually stop someone from getting in probably, but she'd damn well try.]
What is it? What do you need?
[If he were feeling well enough for it, Komaeda would likely follow up his request with another snide remark of: is this how you treat the recently dead? But Lila's too quick for him, and he's much too tired. So he goes where she guides him—a gangling heap of barely coordinated limbs—only to shoulder-check the wall the moment he's brought in.
Where Lila can see him, he almost looks normal. Almost.
Though he might appear half naked and a bit thinner, what's most shocking is the lack of that overlong tail that would most likely be grasping for her if it were there. Instead, what remains is that same angry, irritated flesh still stubbornly clinging to bone—which appears to be in the midst of reforming its next vertebrae, too. But in true Komaeda fashion, he hardly seems bothered when he rolls his head and smiles over his shoulder at her.]
Would it be too much to ask for some water? I'm actually really thirsty... and I just had to walk a lot farther than I'm used to.
Where Lila can see him, he almost looks normal. Almost.
Though he might appear half naked and a bit thinner, what's most shocking is the lack of that overlong tail that would most likely be grasping for her if it were there. Instead, what remains is that same angry, irritated flesh still stubbornly clinging to bone—which appears to be in the midst of reforming its next vertebrae, too. But in true Komaeda fashion, he hardly seems bothered when he rolls his head and smiles over his shoulder at her.]
Would it be too much to ask for some water? I'm actually really thirsty... and I just had to walk a lot farther than I'm used to.
[Not a lot shocks Lila. She's seen a lot, most of it awful, and expects only the grimmest, cruelest things of humanity — and by extension, monsterkind. So it takes a lot to upset her. Like, a lot.]
[When she looks down and sees — doesn't see — Komaeda's tail, she flickers. Doesn't dim but flickers entirely out of existence, the shape of her stretching like taffy until it snaps and, like the final stripe of light on an old-school television, goes out.]
[An instant later she returns, along with a humming electrical surge. Every light in the building smashes on, bulbs shattering if they can't handle the wattage. Her microwave pops meekly, announcing its demise. The edges of her buzz and flicker, wisps coming off and drifting away. She's unattached to anything, drifting, empty]
[no]
[kill him kill him kill I'm gonna kill him gonna]
. . . Sure.
[Her voice sounds flat, distant, but casual somehow. She doesn't move, doesn't even look, as behind her a cabinet opens and a glass floats out. The freezer opens. Some ice cubes fly into the glass. The tap squeaks on, and the glass wanders over to place itself underneath the water.]
You want a bath? That's a thing, right . . . ? For mers. If you're dried out, or whatever . . .
[The glass drifts over to hover cheerfully in front of Komaeda. Lila is staring at him, eyes wide and blank and all-seeing.]
[kill him I'm gonna kill him with my teeth gonna eat him alive don't touch that's mine gonna kill him kill him kill]
[When she looks down and sees — doesn't see — Komaeda's tail, she flickers. Doesn't dim but flickers entirely out of existence, the shape of her stretching like taffy until it snaps and, like the final stripe of light on an old-school television, goes out.]
[An instant later she returns, along with a humming electrical surge. Every light in the building smashes on, bulbs shattering if they can't handle the wattage. Her microwave pops meekly, announcing its demise. The edges of her buzz and flicker, wisps coming off and drifting away. She's unattached to anything, drifting, empty]
[no]
[kill him kill him kill I'm gonna kill him gonna]
. . . Sure.
[Her voice sounds flat, distant, but casual somehow. She doesn't move, doesn't even look, as behind her a cabinet opens and a glass floats out. The freezer opens. Some ice cubes fly into the glass. The tap squeaks on, and the glass wanders over to place itself underneath the water.]
You want a bath? That's a thing, right . . . ? For mers. If you're dried out, or whatever . . .
[The glass drifts over to hover cheerfully in front of Komaeda. Lila is staring at him, eyes wide and blank and all-seeing.]
[kill him I'm gonna kill him with my teeth gonna eat him alive don't touch that's mine gonna kill him kill him kill]
Edited 2021-09-07 19:40 (UTC)
[It's impossible not to notice it. The surge of electricity that blows a few circuits within the apartment, or likely more; or the way the air hums with the current of Lila's anger. It's not the first time Komaeda has witnessed it, and he knows it likely won't be the last.
In his despair-addled mind, he notices the similarities. The destructive rage, of wanting to hurt just as much as she's been hurt. He notices it, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, Komaeda turns away from the proffered water and he takes a wavering step towards her suspended form.]
Lila.
[His voice is soft, gentle. It's the voice of someone meaning to soothe, rather than be soothed. And he smiles, as he offers her his hand (it's shriveled, like a fish left out long enough in the sun to wither), because he knows that to touch her right now might makes things worse.
But if it's her choice, then it might be alright.]
Will you take it with me?
In his despair-addled mind, he notices the similarities. The destructive rage, of wanting to hurt just as much as she's been hurt. He notices it, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, Komaeda turns away from the proffered water and he takes a wavering step towards her suspended form.]
Lila.
[His voice is soft, gentle. It's the voice of someone meaning to soothe, rather than be soothed. And he smiles, as he offers her his hand (it's shriveled, like a fish left out long enough in the sun to wither), because he knows that to touch her right now might makes things worse.
But if it's her choice, then it might be alright.]
Will you take it with me?
[As he approaches her, the glass trembles in midair. She has just enough presence of mind to put it down on the nearest surface, because when he holds his withered hand out towards her she forgets everything else in the world.]
[The last time she felt a true physical reaction was when she accidentally possessed Steve. That's her most recent memory of sweat on her brow, tension in her jaw, tight shoulders ready to push her towards an escape. There's nothing to ground her in herself now. It's in moments like these that she feels the least real, the most broken. Komaeda reaches for her and she can feel the pain in her heart that once upon a time would have been connected to a tremor in her lip or the clench of her teeth.]
[None of those are accessible to her now. Instead, the border of her form shudders, dissolving still further at the edges. The wisps blow towards him in an invisible wind. She thinks about falling into him and disappearing along the way. Falling into and falling through.]
[She hates this. She hates seeing him hurt. She hates caring. God, she hates it. She hates the way her voice sounds, shaky with emotion.]
I don't want to hurt you. Somebody already hurt you, I want — I'm supposed to help.
[The last time she felt a true physical reaction was when she accidentally possessed Steve. That's her most recent memory of sweat on her brow, tension in her jaw, tight shoulders ready to push her towards an escape. There's nothing to ground her in herself now. It's in moments like these that she feels the least real, the most broken. Komaeda reaches for her and she can feel the pain in her heart that once upon a time would have been connected to a tremor in her lip or the clench of her teeth.]
[None of those are accessible to her now. Instead, the border of her form shudders, dissolving still further at the edges. The wisps blow towards him in an invisible wind. She thinks about falling into him and disappearing along the way. Falling into and falling through.]
[She hates this. She hates seeing him hurt. She hates caring. God, she hates it. She hates the way her voice sounds, shaky with emotion.]
I don't want to hurt you. Somebody already hurt you, I want — I'm supposed to help.
You won't hurt me, you never have.
[He laughs—that tender, boyish sound that is so soft around the edges with indolence, it's as if he could hardly be phased by anything. Though he looks exhausted, though thoughts of despair had swirled through his mind, one thing remains true: Lila has always comforted him, whether she was trying or not. She has cared about him, when he thought no one else would. So to see her fuzz around the edges, as if she would simply dissolve without him, spurns on feelings of protection in him too.
Komaeda steps towards her with his stump-arm braced against the wall, and grasps for her hand where it should be. Corporeality is hard now, he knows, but the buzz of static across his skin lets him know she's still there as best she can be.]
This helps me, [he laces his fingers in the air, an odd mixing sensation of Lila's hand both there and not,] I came to you because I wanted you. You don't have to do anything except be with me.
[He laughs—that tender, boyish sound that is so soft around the edges with indolence, it's as if he could hardly be phased by anything. Though he looks exhausted, though thoughts of despair had swirled through his mind, one thing remains true: Lila has always comforted him, whether she was trying or not. She has cared about him, when he thought no one else would. So to see her fuzz around the edges, as if she would simply dissolve without him, spurns on feelings of protection in him too.
Komaeda steps towards her with his stump-arm braced against the wall, and grasps for her hand where it should be. Corporeality is hard now, he knows, but the buzz of static across his skin lets him know she's still there as best she can be.]
This helps me, [he laces his fingers in the air, an odd mixing sensation of Lila's hand both there and not,] I came to you because I wanted you. You don't have to do anything except be with me.
[It's good he says what he says. Somehow, without knowing, he knows: she's so scared of not being enough. Not so much not good enough, because neither of them are good; plainly and simply not enough. She can't touch him. She can't help him. She can't be good for him or take care of him because she doesn't know how to. She's not suited for it. She isn't soft. All of her edges are razor-sharp. He should go find someone else. Someone sweet.]
[But his hand is in hers, their fingers laced together, except for how they're not; and Komaeda doesn't mind that. He looks . . . happy, but tired, but happy, and the edges of her tremble again because she doesn't understand it. Why he came to her, when she can't even touch him right.]
[But she believes him.]
[There's another moment of hesitation, a frisson of static in the border of the void that she is; then she nods, hesitant and shy, and leans into him, and kisses him, soft and barely-there. And falls. Cascades, maybe. She's never been on a lazy river, but it feels kind of like what she imagines that's like: strange and impermanent and comfortable. Maybe it's because she has permission, but his body feels like it's welcoming her; she settles into him like a relieved exhale at the end of a never-ending day.]
[As soon as she can, she opens his eyes and looks at the opposite wall. Sensations are still rolling in, and most of them are bad. Before they all hit her at once, she whispers in his head what she didn't want to say out loud.]
Please don't leave me alone again.
[It isn't fair. But that's not why she didn't want to say it. She didn't want to say it because it's weak — but in the privacy of this secret space, she can. Komaeda already knows.]
[But his hand is in hers, their fingers laced together, except for how they're not; and Komaeda doesn't mind that. He looks . . . happy, but tired, but happy, and the edges of her tremble again because she doesn't understand it. Why he came to her, when she can't even touch him right.]
[But she believes him.]
[There's another moment of hesitation, a frisson of static in the border of the void that she is; then she nods, hesitant and shy, and leans into him, and kisses him, soft and barely-there. And falls. Cascades, maybe. She's never been on a lazy river, but it feels kind of like what she imagines that's like: strange and impermanent and comfortable. Maybe it's because she has permission, but his body feels like it's welcoming her; she settles into him like a relieved exhale at the end of a never-ending day.]
[As soon as she can, she opens his eyes and looks at the opposite wall. Sensations are still rolling in, and most of them are bad. Before they all hit her at once, she whispers in his head what she didn't want to say out loud.]
Please don't leave me alone again.
[It isn't fair. But that's not why she didn't want to say it. She didn't want to say it because it's weak — but in the privacy of this secret space, she can. Komaeda already knows.]
Edited (phrasing weird) 2021-09-10 22:03 (UTC)
[She falls into him and for her, it's like a sigh of relief; but for Komaeda, it's as if he's just inhaled his first taste of fresh air after holding it in for so long. It's overwhelming to have someone inside of you, and it's so very intimate. He's suddenly more aware of every breath, every beat of his heart.
Can she feel it now? The way it races whenever she's near?
And when she turns his head and snaps his eyes open, is it different, he wonders? His senses as a mer are sharper than a shade's. Every prickle of electricity in the air buzzes through his scales, to even the feeling tips of his fleshy hair. His large, pelagic eyes can see better in the dark of her apartment, and he can hear the sounds of shuffling movement two doors down.
Is it new in a way that overwhelms her just as her presence within him does?
But more than anything, he feels a comfortable weight within him. As if he's been a half-empty cup his whole life, just begging to be filled. For once, he has the conscious thought of being thankful he's alive, simply to be her vessel. And then Atem comes to mind—this is what it must have been, for him. This is that comfort he had talked about, all those months ago. Komaeda understands it now.]
I won't leave you, [he responds in the safety of their shared skull,] I need you, too.
Can she feel it now? The way it races whenever she's near?
And when she turns his head and snaps his eyes open, is it different, he wonders? His senses as a mer are sharper than a shade's. Every prickle of electricity in the air buzzes through his scales, to even the feeling tips of his fleshy hair. His large, pelagic eyes can see better in the dark of her apartment, and he can hear the sounds of shuffling movement two doors down.
Is it new in a way that overwhelms her just as her presence within him does?
But more than anything, he feels a comfortable weight within him. As if he's been a half-empty cup his whole life, just begging to be filled. For once, he has the conscious thought of being thankful he's alive, simply to be her vessel. And then Atem comes to mind—this is what it must have been, for him. This is that comfort he had talked about, all those months ago. Komaeda understands it now.]
I won't leave you, [he responds in the safety of their shared skull,] I need you, too.
[Sharing space with someone in this way means no hiding. That's the other thing. She hasn't ever voluntarily entered anyone who wasn't a future meal, and even then she rarely does. It's too revealing. All of her emotions are laid out raw. She can lie in words, but the feelings resonating in the shared space will always give her away.]
[Dizzy with incoming pain, she swallows hard around the playful assault of physical and sensory input. She's wanted her body back for so long, and this isn't it, but it feels so close, as strange and inhuman as it is. She's crawled all over this body already. She's made it home in almost every way.]
[She lays a hand on the kitchen island for balance. It's not hard to take pain, but it takes a little concentration. The subtle touch of cool tile under her hand is so overstimulating that she shudders.]
[If she looks down at the sink, she can almost see their — his — reflection, the color of his eyes strangely vibrant in the steel. She looks, and the softness of her own expression seems alien to both of them.]
[There's no lying, really. There's no way he can't already feel the resonance of it.]
. . . I love you.
[Dizzy with incoming pain, she swallows hard around the playful assault of physical and sensory input. She's wanted her body back for so long, and this isn't it, but it feels so close, as strange and inhuman as it is. She's crawled all over this body already. She's made it home in almost every way.]
[She lays a hand on the kitchen island for balance. It's not hard to take pain, but it takes a little concentration. The subtle touch of cool tile under her hand is so overstimulating that she shudders.]
[If she looks down at the sink, she can almost see their — his — reflection, the color of his eyes strangely vibrant in the steel. She looks, and the softness of her own expression seems alien to both of them.]
[There's no lying, really. There's no way he can't already feel the resonance of it.]
. . . I love you.
[Those words echo in his mind, and for a moment, he can't tell if they're hers or his own. This feeling—so full and vivid, his heart beating out of tune as it competes with itself—is it his or hers? This love that resonates so viscerally between them in a shared body, does it stop or start? Or is it simply existing—warm, trembling, afraid in the same way a child fears the bumps in the night.
This naïve feeling. It's theirs, isn't it?
Lila places his hand on the tile, but Komaeda folds his stump-arm over his middle, as if it were a mockery of hugging himself—her. He likes this feeling, he's sure she knows that without him saying it. And where one might panic in the face of such vulnerability, his own emotion—acceptance, joy—radiates through her anxiety.]
I love you too, Lila.
[He's said it a thousand times in affectionate glances and soft smiles—in the way that he touches her delicately, as if she were fine china instead of leather and barbwire. This time, it's forward. This time, she can't second guess the reason why he would show up on her doorstep unannounced, time and again. There's no running when they're together like this.]
I've loved you for a long time.
This naïve feeling. It's theirs, isn't it?
Lila places his hand on the tile, but Komaeda folds his stump-arm over his middle, as if it were a mockery of hugging himself—her. He likes this feeling, he's sure she knows that without him saying it. And where one might panic in the face of such vulnerability, his own emotion—acceptance, joy—radiates through her anxiety.]
I love you too, Lila.
[He's said it a thousand times in affectionate glances and soft smiles—in the way that he touches her delicately, as if she were fine china instead of leather and barbwire. This time, it's forward. This time, she can't second guess the reason why he would show up on her doorstep unannounced, time and again. There's no running when they're together like this.]
I've loved you for a long time.
[Something about the way he does that, like he's trying to hug her — it feels good, but it hurts, too. She wishes she could hug him the normal way. She wishes she could hold him. He's okay with this, she doesn't know why, but he is, but is she? She wants to be able to make him forget. She wants to hold his face in her hands and kiss him like a real girl.]
[She wants to be real. But he's really holding her. He really loves her.]
[I love you too, Lila.]
[That's what makes her start crying, messy quiet fat tears that fall from Komaeda's eyes and splat on the counter, the noise they make too loud in the silence of her barren kitchen. When she reaches up to rub them away, they just knock more tears out from behind his eyelids. Sniffling, she shakes her head.]
Ugh. [Out loud; and then in the privacy of their head, shrinking down close, trying to get a feel for it, trying to tuck herself into him, to make the metaphysical shape of herself as close as she knows how. She's needy, even if she doesn't recognize it. This is the safest space in the world that there is.]
Sorry. I don't cry about this kind of— [All current evidence to the contrary, of course. She blinks out another couple of tears.] I love you. I already said that. I love you. I'm . . .
[Scared. Sad. Desperately grateful to see him again.]
Bath?
[She wants to be real. But he's really holding her. He really loves her.]
[I love you too, Lila.]
[That's what makes her start crying, messy quiet fat tears that fall from Komaeda's eyes and splat on the counter, the noise they make too loud in the silence of her barren kitchen. When she reaches up to rub them away, they just knock more tears out from behind his eyelids. Sniffling, she shakes her head.]
Ugh. [Out loud; and then in the privacy of their head, shrinking down close, trying to get a feel for it, trying to tuck herself into him, to make the metaphysical shape of herself as close as she knows how. She's needy, even if she doesn't recognize it. This is the safest space in the world that there is.]
Sorry. I don't cry about this kind of— [All current evidence to the contrary, of course. She blinks out another couple of tears.] I love you. I already said that. I love you. I'm . . .
[Scared. Sad. Desperately grateful to see him again.]
Bath?
[It's weird. All these feelings so decidedly not his own, but felt with such tremendous compulsion that his body reacts to it. In a way, he sort of prefers this. Understanding others is difficult... but occupying the same vessel means that he knows everything. He feels everything.
His chest seizes as tears roll down his cheeks, breath stuck in his lungs like he's drowning in the sensation. Is it relief? Is it like pressure being lifted too quickly, and the blood rushing to his head? He can't place it, but in the space of this body, his soul leans against Lila's. And his hand lifts, but he isn't the one to do it—rubbing raw at his eyes, coaxing the dam to overflow.
He wants to hug her. He wants to kiss her. Kiss away all these tears and tell her she's perfect in her imperfections, and that he loves it when she's messy. He loves her the most when she finally lets the wall around her crumble, so that he can crawl in beside her.]
I love you, too, [he repeats it, because he feels like she needs it. A thousand I love yous tied to a thousand red roses. And then he's walking—carrying them to the bathroom mindlessly, like he knows the route without even having to rely on Lila's memory of this apartment.]
I missed you, Lila...
[When he was on that cold slab—a shudder of the memory rolls through them, a flash of sterile lights and a macabre dead mask hovering just out of view.]
I don't like being apart from you.
His chest seizes as tears roll down his cheeks, breath stuck in his lungs like he's drowning in the sensation. Is it relief? Is it like pressure being lifted too quickly, and the blood rushing to his head? He can't place it, but in the space of this body, his soul leans against Lila's. And his hand lifts, but he isn't the one to do it—rubbing raw at his eyes, coaxing the dam to overflow.
He wants to hug her. He wants to kiss her. Kiss away all these tears and tell her she's perfect in her imperfections, and that he loves it when she's messy. He loves her the most when she finally lets the wall around her crumble, so that he can crawl in beside her.]
I love you, too, [he repeats it, because he feels like she needs it. A thousand I love yous tied to a thousand red roses. And then he's walking—carrying them to the bathroom mindlessly, like he knows the route without even having to rely on Lila's memory of this apartment.]
I missed you, Lila...
[When he was on that cold slab—a shudder of the memory rolls through them, a flash of sterile lights and a macabre dead mask hovering just out of view.]
I don't like being apart from you.
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