ic inbox ( ryslig )

[gitanes]

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[luckless]

[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.

[gitanes]

[She used to hate crying. Now . . . she still hates it, but differently. It's uncomfortable, it's so fucking gross, it feels vulnerable and horrible. But at the same time, now she knows what it's like not to be able to cry, to be in such a strange form that can't express remorse in the natural way.]

[Now it's like a dam bursting, like all of the awful things she's had to hold back for months coming out in a rush. She chokes on it, but she doesn't mind, not really, because losing her breath for a second makes it all the more meaningful when she catches it again. And Komaeda just holds her through all of it, physically and in the shared space in their brain, like that's something she deserves. Like that's something he's happy to give her.]

[She's in control, following him as he leads. The whole thing is messy and muddy, but it feels good. It doesn't feel like getting lost in him exactly, not how she thought. It's just welcoming, safe. He let her in and now he's got her and they're not the same, he doesn't make her less, all of this just makes her — more. More and more and more.]

[There are no red roses, but she feels the way they bloom, somewhere in the deepest places of her heart.]

[Right behind them, a pulse of rage at the flickering memory, at his feeling of loneliness. Someone took this from her. Someone took him, made him live without her, frightened and in pain without her — one of the few people she actually cares about, ripped away in the worst way. Don't they know that Komaeda's special? That he makes her happy? He should be protected, he should be treasured, they should die.]

[Her tears run hot down her face, as messy as she ever is. There's sterility in her shade form. In his body, she can be imperfect. She can just be.]

I missed you, too. I was really scared. I wanted to find you, I wanted to fix it.

[Absently, she makes his teeth gnaw his lower lip.]

I don't know how to take care of anybody. But I want to take care of you. Even when you're not happy, I want you to at least be okay.

[Shaking hands lean over the tub, grab the handle on the second try, stopper the drain, turn on the hot water. She leans against the edge, the one whole arm between them wrapping around Komaeda's opposite shoulder.]

I'm going to hurt him. But when I do, I won't be gone for long. I won't leave you alone.