my montage of lost things, my shining trinkets of grief

[willowandoak]

((cw: hallucinations, panic, the general poor mental state of someone with a Palace))

Ren is not exactly at his most presentable. Like, yeah, he's clean and dressed, but that's about all you can say for him. His hair is a snarl of tangles, his skin is unhealthily pale, he holds himself rigidly, and the shadows under his eyes are so dark that it looks like they might never leave. And he knows he looks bad, but by now he's beyond caring. With everything that's happening to him, someone judging his hair is the least of his fucking concerns.

He doesn't usually like to go out, these days. A lot can happen when he's out of his apartment. Too many things he can't control, and too many places that remind him of home, which lately is to be avoided at all costs. But his apartment isn't much better. There's nowhere he can look where he hasn't seen Shido, or Akechi, or Shido and Akechi, or his parents or his orphanage directors or fuck knows who else. There's nowhere he can sit where he hasn't heard their voices. And when he's not hallucinating, he's alone with his thoughts, which is worse.

All that is to say, there was a whole thing earlier where he felt like he couldn't breathe, and it sucked, but it's over now! He's fine. Still, it made him want to get out of his apartment. So here he is, out in Shibuya. And outside has turned out to be as vertiginous and full of danger as he was afraid of, but, well. At least it's different.


1. all the things that i ran from i now bring as close to me as i can

He stands with his back to the wall of a storefront and searches the constant stream of passing cognitions. His expression is fraught. He knows he hasn't really been seeing people from his past, he's not stupid, but the idea of being blindsided by a hallucinatory Shido or orphanage director amidst the crowd is terrifying enough to keep him rooted in place, watching endlessly.

2. gripping hotel sheets with gritted teeth

He's finally escaped the crowds. Curled up on the grimy concrete in a Shibuya alleyway, his knees to his chest and his back once again pressed to the wall, he tries to calm down. Akechi made him breathe, that time when he freaked out in his Palace. He tries to match the rhythm he remembers, but it just makes him think about the Palace, so he abandons that plan almost at once and goes back to waiting out the terror. He'll be fine if he just grits his teeth and endures it. That... usually works, anyway.

Comments

[willowandoak]

Slowly, slowly, Akechi's voice starts to sound less like the groan of a corpse and more like the quiet tones of the living person. The Akechi, the important one, the only one who's really real. The idea of separating from him makes Ren want to puke. If he's not in sight, how can Ren be sure he's not lying dead in a ditch somewhere?

But he doesn't say so, nor does he remove their hands to see if Akechi's face has stopped looking like it did. "Akechi," he whispers against the warmth of Akechi's neck. "Ace. I can't do this anymore."

[lakebrat]

He goes still. Tears sting his eyes; he presses his cheek a little against Ren's matted hair, as he turns. "No?"

[willowandoak]

All his determination went into saying it the first time. He shakes his head mutely, curling his fingers tighter around Akechi's hand.

It's not that he wants them in his Palace. But there's no point in pretending like he's not getting worse. He doesn't know what he'll do if he's at risk of seeing that forever; after just one time, the memory of it already fills his mind.

[lakebrat]

And he presses his face to Ren's hair, matted or not, heart pounding. This was the point, the centre of the operation: to let Ren deteriorate, so he'd have no choice but to ask for help. That was the cold, cruel core of it.

I'm sorry, he thinks inanely. I'm sorry I'm sorry I take it back. Perhaps he really is just as bad as his father. "I, um," he manages, dry-mouthed. "All right. If you still want this tomorrow morning, I'll tell the others. And we can begin, I suppose."

He doesn't say anything like it won't be as bad as you think.

[willowandoak]

Okay, he wants to say, which is inane, insufficient, pathetic—and then he can't even open his mouth to say that much. Slowly, he loosens his grip on Akechi's hand until he's no longer pressing it against his face. He doesn't dare to open his eyes yet; if anything, they squeeze tighter shut as he stops protecting the barrier of Akechi's hand.

In the aftermath of finally giving in, he feels a strange, dull relief. No matter what else happens, at least that's one thing he can stop fighting. He slumps against Akechi in silence.

[lakebrat]

Goro closes his arm tighter against Ren. This really isn't how he saw them fighting it out, back in the distant past of ... two months ago, in another world. He doesn't blame Ren, though, not when there are so many others who did this.

"Do you think you could make it back to your flat?" he asks, quietly, his breath settling against the top of Ren's head. "Better there than here, after all."

[willowandoak]

The image of Akechi's corpse waits for him. He can feel it, lingering at the corner of his mind. He hasn't seen the last of it, if Akechi leaves him alone with himself. You said I could stay at Leblanc, he thinks, like a whiny toddler, but he doesn't come close to saying it. After all, it's no surprise Akechi changed his mind. Look at Ren, curled up like a kicked dog. Worthless.

After a moment, he nods. How hard can it be to get back? His legs aren't broken.

[lakebrat]

But Goro knows, feels Ren wilt against him like a sprout in high summer. "I'll come with you," he adds. "Or you can come to Leblanc. You're welcome, you know."

He traces the back of Ren's head with his hand. It's hard, still, to silence that instinct: he doesn't want to be with me.

[willowandoak]

He doesn't want to say it. But he has to. He takes a breath that rasps in his lungs.

"Don't you have other things to do?" he says, quiet and muffled. "I didn't even want them to call you."

[lakebrat]

Worthless. Cursed. A plague. Tears sting his eyes again, and he doesn't even get embarrassed about them.

"Ren," he says, almost, almost laughing, "what else do you imagine I have to do that's more important than this?" His hand comes to rest, finally, on Ren's shoulder. "Come back with me, then. We'll get you through the night. We can still take that bath, if you want. And then, tomorrow, we can talk about what you want to do.

"If that's okay with you," he adds. It's not like he, of all people, doesn't know how hard it is to ask for help.

[willowandoak]

Anything. Surely anything must be more important than catering to him, when he can't even have a conversation without seeing ghosts. Training. Making coffee. Rereading an old manga. Staring at the wall.

He exhales shakily and nods. He's greedy, like always, hungry for every scrap of Akechi's attention. He was never going to say no.

[lakebrat]

Gently, he gets to his feet, drawing Ren up with him in the dark. "Here. Stretch your legs. I don't even have homework," he adds.

"Crap, I should be working on that. No part-time jobs. Maybe I should stop in there just to stand behind the counter." He glances at Iwai's shop, beside them.

[willowandoak]

He stumbles a bit as he gets to his feet, like a ninety-year-old man with his great-grandson or some shit. Fuck. He grabs onto Akechi's arm for balance until his head stops spinning.

"Cognitive Iwai would probably give out the real shit to any motherfucker who wandered in," he mutters. "The cops let you go in the armory and take whatever. It's eerie. You'd be arming a bunch of babies and yakuza."

[lakebrat]

"I'm not surprised you know about that. The cops, I mean." He steadies Ren as he gets his bearings. If they can get through the door, he thinks, they can pass right back through and be at Leblanc. Assuming Igor isn't having an off day.

More sternly, he looks at Untouchable's door, at its bright sign. "Do you know there isn't a cognitive Iwai? Like there's no Sojiro, no Lala-chan. No Muhen at Jazz Jin, no Shibuya-san at 777. All missing."

[willowandoak]

As soon as he can stand properly, he lets go of Akechi's arm. He's... okay, not even he can say he's fine. But he's going to walk under his own power, so help him.

"No Phantom Thieves haunting the streets," he adds. His voice is still hoarse and quiet. "I looked for you for a little while. Wanted to see what you'd be like."

He feels weird. Empty and drifting, at the mercy of any passing breeze. This is what it's like to be defeated, he supposes.

[lakebrat]

Goro glances at him, and not just to be sure he doesn't fall flat on his ass. "What would you have done if you'd found me?"

[willowandoak]

"I don't know. Talked to you, I guess. It wouldn't have really been you." He sounds more bitter than he realizes, saying that. "Just whatever people think the leader of the Phantom Thieves is like."

[lakebrat]

"So in fact, I would have been... you?" The thought makes him want to punch things, a little. He is Ace, at this point; it's come to define him more than is often comfortable. "That seems to be the rule. There's me, and Crow, but Crow is different again."

He gets the door into the Velvet Room. Come on, Ren.

[willowandoak]

Ren steps through it, giving Igor a brief but venomous glare. Still, it lacks his usual energy.

"That still hasn't stopped being weird. Me leading the Phantom Thieves. You'd have crashed and burned halfway through Kamoshida's Palace if I'd been in charge."

Akechi as the black mask is stranger still, but he doesn't want to bring it up.

[lakebrat]

Igor watches them as they turn to head back through the door. Goro stares back at him with eyes of purest ice.

"You'd have done better than you think. People like you. I know you think that's because they don't know you, but...." He sighs, stepping through the door onto the alley outside Leblanc. "Nobody knew me, either. I mean, they still don't."

[willowandoak]

"They'd still like you if they knew you, you know."

Ren has been in the company of the Phantom Thieves enough to be sure of that.

[lakebrat]

Maybe they would, but that's not the point. Goro pauses, with his hand on Leblanc's door, before glancing to Ren with an odd look on his face.

"What do you think? Food first, or straight to the bathhouse?"

[willowandoak]

Ren considers the question for a moment and fails to discover a preference. Everything is still empty and hollow, except for a small glimmer, now, of concern.

"Whatever you want." He tilts his head. "They would, though. I think they'd be happy."

[lakebrat]

It's good. It's a good thing that Ren is coming out of himself. And yet Goro feels put on the spot. He smiles, and it's almost his normal smile.

"I'd like to think so." He turns to go inside. "Come on. If you were sitting in that alley all day, you could at least use some soup." It's like the Wizard of Oz, after all. Pull down the curtain, and what remains?

[willowandoak]

And Ren doesn't have the energy to chase after him in pursuit of... whatever it is he would get if he did. Agreement, an argument, something. In silence, he follows Akechi into the café, which is thankfully free of annoying catlike beings.