[Hitting the floor, of course, cause who the fuck could dodge that?
He was slower than the Baji Mikey had known, too, not that he'd have known it. He didn't keep up as vigilantly with his dojo studies or... any studies, really. He wasn't a first division captain. He wasn't much of anything. He was just going through the motions.
And right now, the motion was wiping his nose on the kitchen floor, where he'd gone down like a stack of bricks. Looking at the slow trickle of blood that he'd smeared into his palm.
And it was as if that fucking monster kick had jerked him to his senses. He hadn't felt that in-- ...not since...]
Mikey-?
[Whispered, before he could hold back, still looking at his palm. He couldn't look right at the guy or that fragile delusion might crack. And that's all it could be, right?
(a part of him is so hopeful, so, so hopeful, while the other tries to smother it not to let any emotion show. the way the other called, the voice, the tone, all so similar, but something's just missing - the passion in baji's eyes is no longer there, he notes -, not that it could be him in the first place.
breathe. rejoice the blood flowing from the other's nose.
[Looking up in absolute fucking wonder, tinged at the edges with something else-- maybe horror?
He'd finally meet "Mikey's" eye, and while that bold energy was certainly snuffed out years ago, there would be that same quality about his expression that was unmistakable. The kind of naked awe of when Keisuke was truly moved-- truly sad about something, scattered and upset. For people who really knew him, he'd always been a heart on his sleeve and you get what you see kind of person. Gruff, sure, all edges, sure, not very good at communicating in words, but--
But he was upset because he loved-- had loved Mikey. And you couldn't fake that.]
that face, those eyes, the emotion bleeding through every word. he doesn't want to believe it, wishful thinking when his intuition is burning his skin and scrambling his brain. for a second, he says nothing, he simply crouches to face the other. not a speck out of place, it's baji's face, baji's eyes, and he frowns as he takes the other's face into his hands.)
No, Keisuke. You died last week. Convince me you're him, or I'm killing you.
[How the hell would he have died? An overdose--?? He was always careful though, and didn't really ever take anything you could OD on, when few and far between, he took drugs to numb it. Hard to get your hands on, expensive, dangerous, and without friends to back him up, that made it rare. ...An accident?
Why the fuck was he even entertaining a line like that? Of course he wasn't dead.
But this guy-- this reverse-shadow of Mikey, the bright spot he could have been, round and strong and healthy and grown to his proper age, moving and speaking and making demands just like he always did-- went from calling him a stranger to calling him 'Keisuke'.
How...? And he'd said-- he'd said Shinichio, too? His brain, on lag, caught up to that finally.]
Prove I'm me? How the fuck are you going to prove you're you?
[But there's that hand going up, to clutch the fabric at his arm like a lifeline. Fuck. He wanted it to be him, every cell in his body was saying it was him, but that wasn't possible.
He wasn't smart enough to figure out what the fuck was going on here, but this had to be fake somehow, didn't it?]
Mikey's dead. He's gone. We just had the funeral. It's been a long time comin'.
[He hashes out, the logic being a different type of lifeline than the warm and the soft and the solid of the body in front of him. An opposite lifeline.]
He's been gone years, and he finally fucking died, there were flowers, so many fucking flowers, and Sanzu was worried about Shinichiro, so how-- what gives you the right to...?
[It's babbling at this point but how could it not be?]
I'm not fucking dead. I've never even been hospitalized-- but if you're Baji, and you're wearing his face, then what the fuck is happening here?
(none of them make any sense, and someone's got to bend. mikey's always been good at swallowing his emotions, putting any feeling aside - much differently from the open wound and flame that is baji. baji's an excellent actor, but none of this feels like a ruse. at least not anymore.
proving he's mikey, though? it's easy when he's shared so many years with baji.)
When Baji and I were kids, we tied our teeth with dental floss, gave them to the other, and ran to the opposite wall to rip them out. Emma would just see us covered in blood, so we both had to let her rest on our lap and calm her down. Baji was my first kiss, too. Right on the roof of the dojo, because we used to steal my brother's cigarettes and share them while we hung out there. I think Baji was so shocked I kissed him that he froze up a little, and because he didn't kiss me back, I punched him in the stomach because, how dare he, really? Baji was... The love of my life, and now there's an asshole on the floor wearing his face.
(and there's such a sad, melancholic smile on his lips. it's tough, reliving all this when the man he did all these with was buried.)
I've never told these to anyone. Tell me something only I would know.
Some of the memories were familiar, some a little askew, but it all felt real. Jogged a place in his brain he'd put in a shoebox under the bed to stay... sane. To keep his chill. It was either an inferno, or a zero-pulse. Inferno didn't work; it was destructive. He'd seen it in Sanzu.
It didn't mean he wasn't furious. It didn't mean it didn't hurt. Losing Mikey without fully losing him had leaked out of him in other ways... parts of him that would have "proven" he was himself had slipped away... like they'd died in phases, right along with his best friend, and their hopes for him.
He'd never had the room to have hope. He'd had to be realistic. It wasn't fair, but it was what they all needed. Because Shinichiro and Sanzu needed someone to be real with them. ...And it hurt so fucking much, to have to step up and do that. To not be on his heels waiting on Mikey. To try to temper them and tell them-- it probably wasn't going to happen. Come back, come back, come back; when he couldn't come back either.
Loyalty was a fuck of a thing.
Raking in a deep breath, checking off the boxes in his mind... yes, yes, and yes.
The love of his life-? Fuck.]
...I kinda knew. Like, sideways knew. 'Cause I went so far outta my way to get that Playboy issue-- vintage as shit and beaten to hell-- I mighta well have gone to the moon to get it. We went through every page together; I made Mikey push pillows in front of the door, so no one could come in, or we'd be alerted, or whatever. We looked at every page, didn't read shit in the articles; and I remember, Mikey's face was just... flat. Like, he couldn't have cared less? What kind of guy doesn't get horny, looking at his first porn mag?? The only part he liked was an ad, I forget what for, but there was a dude in it-- some model, probably, showing off something-- a watch, a game, a gift? He thought the thing in the ad was pretty good and he couldn't have given a jerk-off shit about the naked women. So I knew then, and it didn't matter. That made us closer.
[Breathing a little more evenly, finding his footing in the familiar. Memories.]
First time he ever slept over, I think my mom knew too. Her eyebrow had to be scraped off the damn ceiling. She got us strawberry cake-- or made us go get it, but she paid for it. And ate most of it. But we gorged ourselves and passed out on top of each other in my room. Mikey woke up at some point and hit me with a pillow for snoring. Like he wasn't?? We argued, it woke my mom, she yelled us out of our damn egos, cowed us... but then we started laughing, and had to shut each other up, pawing at each others mouths and saying shh, shh, dummy!. And we fell asleep again, kinda tangled in each other, still snorting and laughing like idiots. She was so mad. Kicked us out in the morning without breakfast.
[A soft grin.]
Mikey never quite did what anyone expected him to do.
[He didn't know if those memories were big secrets... but they were his, and that was his Mikey.
And this was his fucking face, thanks ver much. Not some other Baji's.]
(he's not going to cry. his eyes have no permission to do that, no tears are allowed to roll down his cheek, even if they did last week, even if they do once he's alone in his room for so many hours at night. he keeps losing people, and now, apparently, it was baji who's lost him. nonsensical in many ways, but it feels right- the same feeling he has if he looks at takemichi for way too long.
it's out of his control, the way the smile morphs into a dance of sorrow and nostalgia- he remembers all of that and he snorts, a hand moving to tuck baji's hair behind his ear. maybe his eyes are glistening just a little, but perhaps it's the light.)
Hah! And then we came back here and Gramps put us on cleaning duty... And of course you knew. I slept with you on more than one occasion, idiot.
(or not. apparently, his life was cut short, before he was even able to hold baji's hand for longer than a minute.)
... Tell me why I'm dead and I'll tell you why you are. I can take you to your grave.
[A spooky sentence, with a creepier connotation...
This had to be a dream, right? But if it wasn't... if this was somehow real...
I can take you to your grave.
He didn't know where he was. Displaced, somehow? Baji wasn't smart enough to think about fractured timelines and overlapping fates-- all he understood was that there was his world, where Mikey was gone, and this Mikey's world, where he and Shinichiro were gone...
And did that mean there was no place in the universe, a universe with multiple options like a choose your own adventure book, where they all grew up together-- grew old together?
Love of my life.
How... could something like that be possible? That that kind of happiness wasn't allowed? What had they done, who had they pissed off...?
For Baji it was an old story. Raw, but not an open nerve anymore. He'd close his eyes, recounting,]
...We were still snot-nosed kids. Shinichiro disbanded the Black Dragons, to focus more on family. He bought you a toy-- a Concorde model plane. It was... really cool.
[Sighed, forcing his eyes open, tarrying back to that day in his mind-- trying to remember the medical over the emotional, even as every muscle in his upper body tightened. He'd long since learned how to deal with the threat of tears. He was an expert now.]
You were-- really fucking proud of that thing... it took you a month to build. Sanzu, Senju, and I wanted to play with it. You got pissed-- [He realized he kept saying 'you', suddenly. Not him. Not this guy. His Mikey. So, clearing his throat, he corrected,] --Mikey got pissed, because it was precious to him and he didn't wanna share with us. He took off, to the stairwell, and-- slipped, I guess. He fell, anyway. Hit his head.
"Severe cerebral damage", "vegetative state", "comatose"... I learned words like that. And then, one not so very special day, almost five years later... you passed from this world in hospital.
You never said another word, never moved a muscle after the accident. You were-- Mikey was-- [Correcting himself again, feeling the frustration well, hands clenching.] --just like a corpse, more and more and more like a corpse. Our corpse, like we were handcuffed to you. We'd go to visit, and everyone... lost. [Lost what, exactly? Lost everything, really.] Emma left. Gramps passed on. Shinichiro was obsessed with making you better; a thing that wasn't possible. Sanzu went to jail over it. Nothing good came of it. Nothing. Mikey was dead all along from that day, over a toy, and it killed all of us right with him. And don't you fucking tell me to prove it, I ain't bullshittin' about this, I'll fucking maim you if you call me a liar.
(each word is more depressing than the next, but he can't deny that they ring true, even if he hasn't experienced it, even if it feels absurd to even contemplate the idea that he's dead - a corpse that withered, in a hospital, never to speak, never to fight, never to hold the hands of the ones he finds dear.
a mikey that has never met kenchin, nor breathed the same air as mitsuya, or held takemichi's face to look at him as he bled on the floor. one who's never met glory, whose destiny been robbed from him.
he remembers, but not the same story. looming is the fact that him and baji are on the same boat - how to explain that he killed himself to save mikey and kazutora from a fate none would flourish from?
not a muscle on his face shows mistrust. he shouldn't believe it - but he does.)
... That's not exactly what happened, to me. Brother bought it, but he put it together, and it was very precious to me because of that. You guys wanted to play with it, and I said you wouldn't in a million years... But Sanzu did behind my back - and he broke it to pieces. I don't know what came to me, but I... Tore his mouth open for it. He has permanent scars... And has never left my side, even then. You never did, either, until--
[He had no idea. Even if he'd lost him; he had no idea. Losing someone was different than losing them while they were still there. It was a flash fire versus slow drowning...
Shaking his head a little, but listening to his story.
This Mikey had done that to Sanzu...? Damn. But his face had scarring either way; Baji didn't need two guesses to know who he'd prefer to have gotten those scars from, which scenario he'd have preferred. Crazy bastard.]
...Until-? [Maybe it's hanging on the air for a reason; more to come. But this Baji wasn't the Baji Mikey remembered, who'd trust his guidance and just go with him; do first, ask later.
No; he wanted answers.] A ride, fine, but--
[Wiping his bloodied nose again and getting to his feet.] --tell me how I died. Fair's fair.
(they'd be in this olympics of fallen angels and who hurt the most forever. yes, mikey might not have died, and he might not have responded for years - but he built a life with baji next to him, stood tall with him above all... and baji died for him and kazutora, at the end of the day. he didn't eat shit due to his own ego and possessiveness.
if baji ever wondered how they'd look like at their current age, here he is. mikey never grew so much, so his eyes and head follow the movement until he's looking up at baji.
fine. this is probably a fucked up dream, anyway. his brain isn't above that. a breath. no emotion, no emotion, no emotion.)
... A few years ago, we started our own gang. You and a friend of ours, Kazutora, wanted to gift me a new bike, so you decided to rob a shop... And you accidentally picked my brother's. He was there, and Kazutora freaked out and hit him in the head... And he killed my brother.
(he's pausing, under the pretense of letting baji process - but he's really just gathering courage.)
When Kazutora got out of prison, you wanted to check on a fucker we met on his side. Tora got delusional, decided I was the enemy so he could deal with his grief. We fought, he stabbed you, I started to kill him, and you-- you killed yourself, so I wouldn't become a murderer, and we wouldn't lose Tora.
Happy now? That's what you wanted to fucking know?
[Might as well have been a fairy tale, for all he understood the plot line. Kazu-who? A gang? He'd stolen a bike? They'd killed Shinichiro? A "fucker on his side", a double-stabbing...
Sounded like a movie he'd skip if he knew the plot ahead of time.
Mouth twitching at the side, he'd dust off his jacket a little, shrugging shoulders.]
...don't get it, honestly. Never met anyone named Kazutora; never joined any gang. Shinichiro would have gotten you any bike you wanted, I think... and you're saying I committed suicide?
[A soft snort. Sounded cowardly; stupid.
And Mikey, a murderer? Someone who'd tore up Sanzu's face, led a gang, killed people?
It was hard to picture, even if the picture standing in front of him was picture-perfect to the letter. 100% him. Even the moodiness; the grump at having feelings of his own instead of just demands.]
Well, if I offed myself, then that's better'n yours. Least I chose it.
Of course none of this makes sense to you. It happened long after... My apparent accident. You loved Kazutora. He's in jail now for your death.
(and he doesn't need to say it that baji loved him too. he knew in every single way, from stolen glances, to the man spitting blood and tainting the floor with crimson as he washed mikey's hand from murder.
and this baji? this baji probably does too, but most likely in a rather depressing way. like when you love something from memory, not as reality dictates. not when the rest of his memories were of doom rather than joy with the blonde.)
And I didn't? Have you thought that, maybe, if I wasn't possessive, I wouldn't have died or torn Sanzu's face up?
I killed myself and the guy I was into went down for it--? Fuck, that sucks.
[It was also weird to think he'd been into some rando, but okay. Whatever. This was a hallucination or whatever anyway. Sure, why not.
If he'd done it for Mikey--...sure. That made sense. Even now, when he'd had to let go again and again and again. When he'd had to try to keep others off their respective ledges; and mainly failed.
Sounded like he was a fuck up here, too.
He'd never really let go either, after all. He just had to be less obvious about it, because he couldn't afford to run away, cut down, or devote every waking moment. He was stemming the bleeding on all sides, all ways. Bandaid after bandaid after band aid...]
...I don't know shit about Sanzu's face, but he's got scars anyway, and you didn't give 'em to 'em, where I'm from.
As for possessive... you were just a kid, with a toy. And we killed you. We did it, cause we didn't respect your shit. We knew how you were. We knew you'd get pissy about it. If we'd been better about it, you'd've been just fine. ...but we were just kids too, so what the fuck can you do.
[Except regret it bitterly, daily, constantly, like a black cloak so dark and weighted and woolly over your life you forget it's there; forget what it was like before it.]
You didn't kill me, that thinking's fucking stupid, Keisuke. Like you said, you were children, you just wanted to play, and I didn't want to share. Stop blaming yourself.
(although he can understand the desire to rationalize. if he hadn't asked kisaki to go all out, perhaps baji would be alive, breathing, instead of the stranger that isn't exactly one looking at him right now.
he doesn't know if he can offer closure. it's not him that baji knew - or rather, it was. time changes things, and the person he is now is nothing compared to the boy baji once knew. violent, with his sanity crumbling slowly but surely, whose impulses are harder to contain without the boy he once loved.
... if this isn't a trip, like shinichiro's voice in his head that he gets to hear every now and then, does that mean... he has baji back?)
... I'm sorry I left you so early, though. We lived... Incredible things. We made great friends who fought alongside us to carve a space for us in this town... You even lived a bit of a double life, you know. You ironed your clothes and wore glasses and went to school well - so your mom would be happy. In the afternoon, we rode our bikes, got into brawls, got drunk sometimes. We would spend evenings awake, together, and you'd bitch because you had to go to class in a couple of hours.
[It sounded... nice. But so foreign to him. Brows raising as Mikey spoke about camaraderie and the general litany of things teens do.
He didn't recognize any of himself in it.]
...You miss him. That doesn't sound like me.
I don't have many friends; I don't go to school, I skip. There's Sanzu; but he's been in jail for a while, just got out; and there's Shinichiro, and there's you in the hospital. Or, there was. Now I'm not sure what there is. But it's nothing, basically.
[Without Mikey, it had all been treading water, and only that. He couldn't say he felt particularly passionate about anything; particularly connected.]
..Not gonna lie, I think I'd've preferred to live and die, and for you to live, than whatever the hell happened to me. This seems like a dream, but I don't think I'm smart enough to dream this up.
[If Mikey was starting to feel blank as he lost people-- well, Baji had been losing for years now. It was a less violent but more advanced case of the same sickness.
He still couldn't quite let himself believe this was him. Because if he believed that... it would threaten to rip off that blanket that muted and dulled everything about him. And he didn't think he could stand to muffle everything back up again if he did that.]
You just didn't have the chance to build all this. If you're here to stay - that's fixable, you know.
(the prospective of a life, considering that baji's describing the bottom pit of depression as it is. not that mikey could ever blame him. sanzu's a troublemaker by nature, and jail sounds exactly where he would be if mikey didn't hold him like he would a feral dog. with shinichiro taking care of him, and emma leaving, he understands. there is nothing to tie baji together.
he's never met kazutora, or draken, chifuyu or takemichi - or any of their people. there's an argument to be made that reintroducing this baji into his life could be a recipe for disaster, but just once, lord, allow mikey to be selfish. just fucking once.)
You have light within you, Baji. I've seen it. Your circumstances just didn't let it spark -- yet. I don't feel like this is a dream either, so, in this case...
(and the smile he offers baji - blinding, as without any warning, nor permission, he takes the other's hand into his, fingers intertwined as he leaves his task behind (rip him later) to guide baji outside, where his bike awaitened.)
[Wherever 'here' was; and that question probably should concern him more than it did; he wasn't so sure he could slip into the second skin this Mikey wanted him to-- friends he'd never met, relationships he'd never had... and how do you explain you're back from the dead? Mikey was saying this was his world, his version of reality? Then Baji didn't have anything here either; he was gone.
Well. There was the one thing. Blond and bright and suddenly a lot more optimistic, standing before him.
He lets Mikey guide and on reflex-- how long has it been, since he's felt the other boy tug his hand, show initiative, so much as twitch a muscle much less latch onto him with them?-- a little abashed at the sudden flood of relief and dim warmth in the pit of his stomach that he was there. That he existed, as a whole person, rather than just as a damning shadow.
His person...]
...Okay, Mikey.
[Agreeing to his dumb plan felt so familiar and so good it almost winded him. It almost hurt.]
(those things went through his mind as well, but honestly, there are more important, pressing matters mikey wants to address. if baji's spirit died with mikey's, then it's his duty to lift it back with the life that pulsates from him in every motion, every smile and every kick.
he'll never be baji, but he'll never not be him, either. they'll have time to process, unfold their thoughts, and create strategies. he'll probably be able to hide baji in his room for a little while, beg emma secrecy in exchange for giving kenchin a little push. unimportant now. what's important is getting on that bike, wrapping baji's arms around him tight as he got ready to speed.)
Whatever you do, don't let go, alright?!
(and off. first stop is the convini in which the owner doesn't give enough of a fuck about the youngsters buying cheap beer, and that bill is on mikey. next stop is a bit further, albeit not as distant when mikey's so experienced with the road - maybe some tickets might find his address later. the beach is nice, with the calming sounds of the waves, and he removes his flipflops once they get into the sand, letting his feet sink until they reach the shore.
once they do, he sits, taking one of the beers for himself and one for the other. baji'll regret meeting the white girl wasted mikey, but at least it'll be fun.)
[But really, has he? Other than the cursory, perfunctory-- it's a no.
He wraps his arms around Mikey's torso without needing to be told twice, pressing into his back, poising his chin against his shoulder at an angle, expression curious. So in this place Mikey'd taken up Shinichiro's mantle, huh...? Already, before he could peel away even, Baji knew it suited him.
And it's... what is it, even? A whirlwind? Baji wouldn't know how to describe it. It's fast. Not just the bike; everything. Mikey's fast. There's chatting with strangers and the howl of the wind and the growl bike where usually there's silence. There's motion, and money, and grins where usually there's... silence. There's a destination ahead of them, which they make it to and begin to indulge in from the moment their bare feet hit the sand. Whereas usually... there's silence.
It almost makes his eyes hurt, the force of trying to keep it all in. The sea air doesn't help, but it's a nice excuse for if he needs to rub at one briefly. It's like the world is bleeding in color suddenly, all surround-sound and motion blur, and he can't-- he doesn't know if he'd be able to handle letting all that in only to lose it again.
He doesn't actually even know if he can let that all in knowing some other version of himself got to grow up like this while he didn't. It hurt. It never stopped hurting. It was almost too frightening to think it could. Because what if five minutes from now he woke up in his bed, in his shitty apartment, with his mom yelling at him to be better, and Mikey was still dead?
He'd take the beer without looking at Mikey, eyes on the horizon where the ocean met the sky, fingers almost tremoring-- just for a moment.]
...the fuck is 21 questions?
[Like, asking things? Okay. Okay, he could latch onto that. Ground hismelf in it, while reality and the sand were both slippery and he couldn't be trusted with his own thoughts.]
...what's your favorite subject in school-- do you go to school?
[That's two questions, but rules and math both weren't strong suits, so let him have this one Mikey.]
... Kinda. Our friend Kenchin swings by the dojo to wake me up, we eat lunch in school, and I sleep all the classes... I guess the one I'm failing the least is... I guess Japanese? It doesn't matter.
(he lives as he'd like. in no reality does mikey imagine himself a salaryman, running for schedules, dealines, gunning for promotions and living life solely for it. he wants meaning, not luxury, and he feels like he's on the right path to achieve it.
there's intelligence, and there's feeling and intuition. mikey might lack on the former, but the latter - he can't even imagine what a shock this might be for the other. he sees the tremors, the slightly watered eyes, and he leaves a hand between them, as if he was saying:
take it. i'm real. i'm here.
if mikey's always been protective, it will worsen from this point forward. this baji is miserable, and he's miserable because of mikey's own actions, and mikey? he'd never let that. he's sure that, even if his brain wasn't working, his soul was screaming watching all that he holds dear disintegrate and fall apart, baji's spirit included.
if he doesn't find the courage to take his hand, mikey will as he sips, casual, reassuring, and with his face so neutral and kind that it leaves no space for the other to guess his feelings.)
[He does take it. He's always been proud, but never prideful. He'd always been pretty sure of things, but never so steeped in his own ego that he could look at something he wanted and turn his nose up-- not unless there was good reason to. Mikey had been able to do that, and it was a skill that wowed him; deny himself. Mikey could deny himself almost anything, which is why he'd never fault him for the childish outburst that made him put velvet rope around a toy and flee from sharing it.
Mikey had always outwardly seemed like a selfish flake, he supposed. But people who knew him knew it wasn't the truth-- he cared about others, he put them before himself, he was always thinking, always doing. Just like Shinichiro, but a little more charming about it; a little more vibrant. If that wasn't true, his slow death wouldn't have burnt them all the way it did.
And he was like that here, too. He'd just suffered a loss, but here he was offering a stranger with his loss's face a lifeline-- a ride, a beer, a hand.
So, he'd take it. Lace their fingers and squeeze. Then take a sip of beer.]
...It's a little embarrassing. I dyed it after Mikey's accident. They ain't highlights, they just grown out. My mom was so pissed... school was pissed... but. I wanted a reminder. Until you woke up.
[He wanted a reminder he'd failed, actually. It was clear in the flat blunt side of his tone.
He knew Mikey was never gonna wake up. Shinichiro and Sanzu were fooling themselves...]
What's your favorite thing to do out with your friends? Sounds like you have a ton.
(the hand feels somewhat like home and none at all. which - he expected, after all, everything him and baji had was so beautifully constructed down to how their hands felt like they belonged together, intertwined. this feels like a possibility rather than a certainty, but instead of worrying, all mikey does is to bring it to his lips in a gentle, delicate kiss to each knuckle, as he would when baji punched something too mercilessly.
this time, it isn't the same purpose, instead of calming it's a silent way to apologize. he listens to the tale, and while it's heartfelt, he can't imagine a blonde baji to save his life, not when his own sported long, luxurious strands of black hair that he cared for with his life.
no need to point out the obvious - that he never did come out of it. baji would know better than he does, and his finger pushes some hair behind his ear to look at him better.)
Surprised you're breathing, your mom would have killed you here.
(at the question-- strange to have to explain this to baji himself. where does he start?)
... I myself have a gang. Baji created it, and nominated me as the Leader. We have over a hundred people. I usually ride with them, we all have bikes and stuff - but my closest people are the uppermen, like you were - a captain and all. We usually hang out, I'm not picky to what we're doing so long as we're together.
... If you don't go to school, the Manji never existed, then what do you do through the day?
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(calmly, whatever he was holding is set back to the sink, his hands jerked to rid of excess water...
before he turns around, and with no warning, his foot meets the baji spectrum of a boy - the fucking audacity, the insolence.
wearing that face and daring to speak to him like that, under his own roof? he hopes he broke something with the boy's fall.)
My brother is dead.
no subject
He was slower than the Baji Mikey had known, too, not that he'd have known it. He didn't keep up as vigilantly with his dojo studies or... any studies, really. He wasn't a first division captain. He wasn't much of anything. He was just going through the motions.
And right now, the motion was wiping his nose on the kitchen floor, where he'd gone down like a stack of bricks. Looking at the slow trickle of blood that he'd smeared into his palm.
And it was as if that fucking monster kick had jerked him to his senses. He hadn't felt that in-- ...not since...]
Mikey-?
[Whispered, before he could hold back, still looking at his palm. He couldn't look right at the guy or that fragile delusion might crack. And that's all it could be, right?
A dream, or a hallucination, or a mistake...
A fucking cruel one, at that.]
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(a part of him is so hopeful, so, so hopeful, while the other tries to smother it not to let any emotion show. the way the other called, the voice, the tone, all so similar, but something's just missing - the passion in baji's eyes is no longer there, he notes -, not that it could be him in the first place.
breathe. rejoice the blood flowing from the other's nose.
he earned it. it can't be baji.)
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He'd finally meet "Mikey's" eye, and while that bold energy was certainly snuffed out years ago, there would be that same quality about his expression that was unmistakable. The kind of naked awe of when Keisuke was truly moved-- truly sad about something, scattered and upset. For people who really knew him, he'd always been a heart on his sleeve and you get what you see kind of person. Gruff, sure, all edges, sure, not very good at communicating in words, but--
But he was upset because he loved-- had loved Mikey. And you couldn't fake that.]
N-no way... I'm dreamin'....
You're not him. He's dead.
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that face, those eyes, the emotion bleeding through every word. he doesn't want to believe it, wishful thinking when his intuition is burning his skin and scrambling his brain. for a second, he says nothing, he simply crouches to face the other. not a speck out of place, it's baji's face, baji's eyes, and he frowns as he takes the other's face into his hands.)
No, Keisuke. You died last week. Convince me you're him, or I'm killing you.
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[How the hell would he have died? An overdose--?? He was always careful though, and didn't really ever take anything you could OD on, when few and far between, he took drugs to numb it. Hard to get your hands on, expensive, dangerous, and without friends to back him up, that made it rare. ...An accident?
Why the fuck was he even entertaining a line like that? Of course he wasn't dead.
But this guy-- this reverse-shadow of Mikey, the bright spot he could have been, round and strong and healthy and grown to his proper age, moving and speaking and making demands just like he always did-- went from calling him a stranger to calling him 'Keisuke'.
How...? And he'd said-- he'd said Shinichio, too? His brain, on lag, caught up to that finally.]
Prove I'm me? How the fuck are you going to prove you're you?
[But there's that hand going up, to clutch the fabric at his arm like a lifeline. Fuck. He wanted it to be him, every cell in his body was saying it was him, but that wasn't possible.
He wasn't smart enough to figure out what the fuck was going on here, but this had to be fake somehow, didn't it?]
Mikey's dead. He's gone. We just had the funeral. It's been a long time comin'.
[He hashes out, the logic being a different type of lifeline than the warm and the soft and the solid of the body in front of him. An opposite lifeline.]
He's been gone years, and he finally fucking died, there were flowers, so many fucking flowers, and Sanzu was worried about Shinichiro, so how-- what gives you the right to...?
[It's babbling at this point but how could it not be?]
To wear his face...?
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(none of them make any sense, and someone's got to bend. mikey's always been good at swallowing his emotions, putting any feeling aside - much differently from the open wound and flame that is baji. baji's an excellent actor, but none of this feels like a ruse. at least not anymore.
proving he's mikey, though? it's easy when he's shared so many years with baji.)
When Baji and I were kids, we tied our teeth with dental floss, gave them to the other, and ran to the opposite wall to rip them out. Emma would just see us covered in blood, so we both had to let her rest on our lap and calm her down. Baji was my first kiss, too. Right on the roof of the dojo, because we used to steal my brother's cigarettes and share them while we hung out there. I think Baji was so shocked I kissed him that he froze up a little, and because he didn't kiss me back, I punched him in the stomach because, how dare he, really? Baji was... The love of my life, and now there's an asshole on the floor wearing his face.
(and there's such a sad, melancholic smile on his lips. it's tough, reliving all this when the man he did all these with was buried.)
I've never told these to anyone. Tell me something only I would know.
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Some of the memories were familiar, some a little askew, but it all felt real. Jogged a place in his brain he'd put in a shoebox under the bed to stay... sane. To keep his chill. It was either an inferno, or a zero-pulse. Inferno didn't work; it was destructive. He'd seen it in Sanzu.
It didn't mean he wasn't furious. It didn't mean it didn't hurt. Losing Mikey without fully losing him had leaked out of him in other ways... parts of him that would have "proven" he was himself had slipped away... like they'd died in phases, right along with his best friend, and their hopes for him.
He'd never had the room to have hope. He'd had to be realistic. It wasn't fair, but it was what they all needed. Because Shinichiro and Sanzu needed someone to be real with them. ...And it hurt so fucking much, to have to step up and do that. To not be on his heels waiting on Mikey. To try to temper them and tell them-- it probably wasn't going to happen. Come back, come back, come back; when he couldn't come back either.
Loyalty was a fuck of a thing.
Raking in a deep breath, checking off the boxes in his mind... yes, yes, and yes.
The love of his life-? Fuck.]
...I kinda knew. Like, sideways knew. 'Cause I went so far outta my way to get that Playboy issue-- vintage as shit and beaten to hell-- I mighta well have gone to the moon to get it. We went through every page together; I made Mikey push pillows in front of the door, so no one could come in, or we'd be alerted, or whatever. We looked at every page, didn't read shit in the articles; and I remember, Mikey's face was just... flat. Like, he couldn't have cared less? What kind of guy doesn't get horny, looking at his first porn mag?? The only part he liked was an ad, I forget what for, but there was a dude in it-- some model, probably, showing off something-- a watch, a game, a gift? He thought the thing in the ad was pretty good and he couldn't have given a jerk-off shit about the naked women. So I knew then, and it didn't matter. That made us closer.
[Breathing a little more evenly, finding his footing in the familiar. Memories.]
First time he ever slept over, I think my mom knew too. Her eyebrow had to be scraped off the damn ceiling. She got us strawberry cake-- or made us go get it, but she paid for it. And ate most of it. But we gorged ourselves and passed out on top of each other in my room. Mikey woke up at some point and hit me with a pillow for snoring. Like he wasn't?? We argued, it woke my mom, she yelled us out of our damn egos, cowed us... but then we started laughing, and had to shut each other up, pawing at each others mouths and saying shh, shh, dummy!. And we fell asleep again, kinda tangled in each other, still snorting and laughing like idiots. She was so mad. Kicked us out in the morning without breakfast.
[A soft grin.]
Mikey never quite did what anyone expected him to do.
[He didn't know if those memories were big secrets... but they were his, and that was his Mikey.
And this was his fucking face, thanks ver much. Not some other Baji's.]
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it's out of his control, the way the smile morphs into a dance of sorrow and nostalgia- he remembers all of that and he snorts, a hand moving to tuck baji's hair behind his ear. maybe his eyes are glistening just a little, but perhaps it's the light.)
Hah! And then we came back here and Gramps put us on cleaning duty... And of course you knew. I slept with you on more than one occasion, idiot.
(or not. apparently, his life was cut short, before he was even able to hold baji's hand for longer than a minute.)
... Tell me why I'm dead and I'll tell you why you are. I can take you to your grave.
(absolutely fucking not.)
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This had to be a dream, right? But if it wasn't... if this was somehow real...
I can take you to your grave.
He didn't know where he was. Displaced, somehow? Baji wasn't smart enough to think about fractured timelines and overlapping fates-- all he understood was that there was his world, where Mikey was gone, and this Mikey's world, where he and Shinichiro were gone...
And did that mean there was no place in the universe, a universe with multiple options like a choose your own adventure book, where they all grew up together-- grew old together?
Love of my life.
How... could something like that be possible? That that kind of happiness wasn't allowed? What had they done, who had they pissed off...?
For Baji it was an old story. Raw, but not an open nerve anymore. He'd close his eyes, recounting,]
...We were still snot-nosed kids. Shinichiro disbanded the Black Dragons, to focus more on family. He bought you a toy-- a Concorde model plane. It was... really cool.
[Sighed, forcing his eyes open, tarrying back to that day in his mind-- trying to remember the medical over the emotional, even as every muscle in his upper body tightened. He'd long since learned how to deal with the threat of tears. He was an expert now.]
You were-- really fucking proud of that thing... it took you a month to build. Sanzu, Senju, and I wanted to play with it. You got pissed-- [He realized he kept saying 'you', suddenly. Not him. Not this guy. His Mikey. So, clearing his throat, he corrected,] --Mikey got pissed, because it was precious to him and he didn't wanna share with us. He took off, to the stairwell, and-- slipped, I guess. He fell, anyway. Hit his head.
"Severe cerebral damage", "vegetative state", "comatose"... I learned words like that. And then, one not so very special day, almost five years later... you passed from this world in hospital.
You never said another word, never moved a muscle after the accident. You were-- Mikey was-- [Correcting himself again, feeling the frustration well, hands clenching.] --just like a corpse, more and more and more like a corpse. Our corpse, like we were handcuffed to you. We'd go to visit, and everyone... lost. [Lost what, exactly? Lost everything, really.] Emma left. Gramps passed on. Shinichiro was obsessed with making you better; a thing that wasn't possible. Sanzu went to jail over it. Nothing good came of it. Nothing. Mikey was dead all along from that day, over a toy, and it killed all of us right with him. And don't you fucking tell me to prove it, I ain't bullshittin' about this, I'll fucking maim you if you call me a liar.
[Not about this. Never about this.]
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(each word is more depressing than the next, but he can't deny that they ring true, even if he hasn't experienced it, even if it feels absurd to even contemplate the idea that he's dead - a corpse that withered, in a hospital, never to speak, never to fight, never to hold the hands of the ones he finds dear.
a mikey that has never met kenchin, nor breathed the same air as mitsuya, or held takemichi's face to look at him as he bled on the floor. one who's never met glory, whose destiny been robbed from him.
he remembers, but not the same story. looming is the fact that him and baji are on the same boat - how to explain that he killed himself to save mikey and kazutora from a fate none would flourish from?
not a muscle on his face shows mistrust. he shouldn't believe it - but he does.)
... That's not exactly what happened, to me. Brother bought it, but he put it together, and it was very precious to me because of that. You guys wanted to play with it, and I said you wouldn't in a million years... But Sanzu did behind my back - and he broke it to pieces. I don't know what came to me, but I... Tore his mouth open for it. He has permanent scars... And has never left my side, even then. You never did, either, until--
(shut up, manjiro. shut up.)
Come on. Stand up. We're going for a ride.
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[He had no idea. Even if he'd lost him; he had no idea. Losing someone was different than losing them while they were still there. It was a flash fire versus slow drowning...
Shaking his head a little, but listening to his story.
This Mikey had done that to Sanzu...? Damn. But his face had scarring either way; Baji didn't need two guesses to know who he'd prefer to have gotten those scars from, which scenario he'd have preferred. Crazy bastard.]
...Until-? [Maybe it's hanging on the air for a reason; more to come. But this Baji wasn't the Baji Mikey remembered, who'd trust his guidance and just go with him; do first, ask later.
No; he wanted answers.] A ride, fine, but--
[Wiping his bloodied nose again and getting to his feet.] --tell me how I died. Fair's fair.
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if baji ever wondered how they'd look like at their current age, here he is. mikey never grew so much, so his eyes and head follow the movement until he's looking up at baji.
fine. this is probably a fucked up dream, anyway. his brain isn't above that. a breath. no emotion, no emotion, no emotion.)
... A few years ago, we started our own gang. You and a friend of ours, Kazutora, wanted to gift me a new bike, so you decided to rob a shop... And you accidentally picked my brother's. He was there, and Kazutora freaked out and hit him in the head... And he killed my brother.
(he's pausing, under the pretense of letting baji process - but he's really just gathering courage.)
When Kazutora got out of prison, you wanted to check on a fucker we met on his side. Tora got delusional, decided I was the enemy so he could deal with his grief. We fought, he stabbed you, I started to kill him, and you-- you killed yourself, so I wouldn't become a murderer, and we wouldn't lose Tora.
Happy now? That's what you wanted to fucking know?
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Sounded like a movie he'd skip if he knew the plot ahead of time.
Mouth twitching at the side, he'd dust off his jacket a little, shrugging shoulders.]
...don't get it, honestly. Never met anyone named Kazutora; never joined any gang. Shinichiro would have gotten you any bike you wanted, I think... and you're saying I committed suicide?
[A soft snort. Sounded cowardly; stupid.
And Mikey, a murderer? Someone who'd tore up Sanzu's face, led a gang, killed people?
It was hard to picture, even if the picture standing in front of him was picture-perfect to the letter. 100% him. Even the moodiness; the grump at having feelings of his own instead of just demands.]
Well, if I offed myself, then that's better'n yours. Least I chose it.
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(and he doesn't need to say it that baji loved him too. he knew in every single way, from stolen glances, to the man spitting blood and tainting the floor with crimson as he washed mikey's hand from murder.
and this baji? this baji probably does too, but most likely in a rather depressing way. like when you love something from memory, not as reality dictates. not when the rest of his memories were of doom rather than joy with the blonde.)
And I didn't? Have you thought that, maybe, if I wasn't possessive, I wouldn't have died or torn Sanzu's face up?
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[It was also weird to think he'd been into some rando, but okay. Whatever. This was a hallucination or whatever anyway. Sure, why not.
If he'd done it for Mikey--...sure. That made sense. Even now, when he'd had to let go again and again and again. When he'd had to try to keep others off their respective ledges; and mainly failed.
Sounded like he was a fuck up here, too.
He'd never really let go either, after all. He just had to be less obvious about it, because he couldn't afford to run away, cut down, or devote every waking moment. He was stemming the bleeding on all sides, all ways. Bandaid after bandaid after band aid...]
...I don't know shit about Sanzu's face, but he's got scars anyway, and you didn't give 'em to 'em, where I'm from.
As for possessive... you were just a kid, with a toy. And we killed you. We did it, cause we didn't respect your shit. We knew how you were. We knew you'd get pissy about it. If we'd been better about it, you'd've been just fine. ...but we were just kids too, so what the fuck can you do.
[Except regret it bitterly, daily, constantly, like a black cloak so dark and weighted and woolly over your life you forget it's there; forget what it was like before it.]
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(although he can understand the desire to rationalize. if he hadn't asked kisaki to go all out, perhaps baji would be alive, breathing, instead of the stranger that isn't exactly one looking at him right now.
he doesn't know if he can offer closure. it's not him that baji knew - or rather, it was. time changes things, and the person he is now is nothing compared to the boy baji once knew. violent, with his sanity crumbling slowly but surely, whose impulses are harder to contain without the boy he once loved.
... if this isn't a trip, like shinichiro's voice in his head that he gets to hear every now and then, does that mean... he has baji back?)
... I'm sorry I left you so early, though. We lived... Incredible things. We made great friends who fought alongside us to carve a space for us in this town... You even lived a bit of a double life, you know. You ironed your clothes and wore glasses and went to school well - so your mom would be happy. In the afternoon, we rode our bikes, got into brawls, got drunk sometimes. We would spend evenings awake, together, and you'd bitch because you had to go to class in a couple of hours.
... I miss you.
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He didn't recognize any of himself in it.]
...You miss him. That doesn't sound like me.
I don't have many friends; I don't go to school, I skip. There's Sanzu; but he's been in jail for a while, just got out; and there's Shinichiro, and there's you in the hospital. Or, there was. Now I'm not sure what there is. But it's nothing, basically.
[Without Mikey, it had all been treading water, and only that. He couldn't say he felt particularly passionate about anything; particularly connected.]
..Not gonna lie, I think I'd've preferred to live and die, and for you to live, than whatever the hell happened to me. This seems like a dream, but I don't think I'm smart enough to dream this up.
[If Mikey was starting to feel blank as he lost people-- well, Baji had been losing for years now. It was a less violent but more advanced case of the same sickness.
He still couldn't quite let himself believe this was him. Because if he believed that... it would threaten to rip off that blanket that muted and dulled everything about him. And he didn't think he could stand to muffle everything back up again if he did that.]
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(the prospective of a life, considering that baji's describing the bottom pit of depression as it is. not that mikey could ever blame him. sanzu's a troublemaker by nature, and jail sounds exactly where he would be if mikey didn't hold him like he would a feral dog. with shinichiro taking care of him, and emma leaving, he understands. there is nothing to tie baji together.
he's never met kazutora, or draken, chifuyu or takemichi - or any of their people. there's an argument to be made that reintroducing this baji into his life could be a recipe for disaster, but just once, lord, allow mikey to be selfish. just fucking once.)
You have light within you, Baji. I've seen it. Your circumstances just didn't let it spark -- yet. I don't feel like this is a dream either, so, in this case...
(and the smile he offers baji - blinding, as without any warning, nor permission, he takes the other's hand into his, fingers intertwined as he leaves his task behind (rip him later) to guide baji outside, where his bike awaitened.)
Come on, I'm going to show you!
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Well. There was the one thing. Blond and bright and suddenly a lot more optimistic, standing before him.
He lets Mikey guide and on reflex-- how long has it been, since he's felt the other boy tug his hand, show initiative, so much as twitch a muscle much less latch onto him with them?-- a little abashed at the sudden flood of relief and dim warmth in the pit of his stomach that he was there. That he existed, as a whole person, rather than just as a damning shadow.
His person...]
...Okay, Mikey.
[Agreeing to his dumb plan felt so familiar and so good it almost winded him. It almost hurt.]
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he'll never be baji, but he'll never not be him, either. they'll have time to process, unfold their thoughts, and create strategies. he'll probably be able to hide baji in his room for a little while, beg emma secrecy in exchange for giving kenchin a little push. unimportant now. what's important is getting on that bike, wrapping baji's arms around him tight as he got ready to speed.)
Whatever you do, don't let go, alright?!
(and off. first stop is the convini in which the owner doesn't give enough of a fuck about the youngsters buying cheap beer, and that bill is on mikey. next stop is a bit further, albeit not as distant when mikey's so experienced with the road - maybe some tickets might find his address later. the beach is nice, with the calming sounds of the waves, and he removes his flipflops once they get into the sand, letting his feet sink until they reach the shore.
once they do, he sits, taking one of the beers for himself and one for the other. baji'll regret meeting the white girl wasted mikey, but at least it'll be fun.)
Let's play 21 Questions! You start, Baji!
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[But really, has he? Other than the cursory, perfunctory-- it's a no.
He wraps his arms around Mikey's torso without needing to be told twice, pressing into his back, poising his chin against his shoulder at an angle, expression curious. So in this place Mikey'd taken up Shinichiro's mantle, huh...? Already, before he could peel away even, Baji knew it suited him.
And it's... what is it, even? A whirlwind? Baji wouldn't know how to describe it. It's fast. Not just the bike; everything. Mikey's fast. There's chatting with strangers and the howl of the wind and the growl bike where usually there's silence. There's motion, and money, and grins where usually there's... silence. There's a destination ahead of them, which they make it to and begin to indulge in from the moment their bare feet hit the sand. Whereas usually... there's silence.
It almost makes his eyes hurt, the force of trying to keep it all in. The sea air doesn't help, but it's a nice excuse for if he needs to rub at one briefly. It's like the world is bleeding in color suddenly, all surround-sound and motion blur, and he can't-- he doesn't know if he'd be able to handle letting all that in only to lose it again.
He doesn't actually even know if he can let that all in knowing some other version of himself got to grow up like this while he didn't. It hurt. It never stopped hurting. It was almost too frightening to think it could. Because what if five minutes from now he woke up in his bed, in his shitty apartment, with his mom yelling at him to be better, and Mikey was still dead?
He'd take the beer without looking at Mikey, eyes on the horizon where the ocean met the sky, fingers almost tremoring-- just for a moment.]
...the fuck is 21 questions?
[Like, asking things? Okay. Okay, he could latch onto that. Ground hismelf in it, while reality and the sand were both slippery and he couldn't be trusted with his own thoughts.]
...what's your favorite subject in school-- do you go to school?
[That's two questions, but rules and math both weren't strong suits, so let him have this one Mikey.]
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(he lives as he'd like. in no reality does mikey imagine himself a salaryman, running for schedules, dealines, gunning for promotions and living life solely for it. he wants meaning, not luxury, and he feels like he's on the right path to achieve it.
there's intelligence, and there's feeling and intuition. mikey might lack on the former, but the latter - he can't even imagine what a shock this might be for the other. he sees the tremors, the slightly watered eyes, and he leaves a hand between them, as if he was saying:
take it. i'm real. i'm here.
if mikey's always been protective, it will worsen from this point forward. this baji is miserable, and he's miserable because of mikey's own actions, and mikey? he'd never let that. he's sure that, even if his brain wasn't working, his soul was screaming watching all that he holds dear disintegrate and fall apart, baji's spirit included.
if he doesn't find the courage to take his hand, mikey will as he sips, casual, reassuring, and with his face so neutral and kind that it leaves no space for the other to guess his feelings.)
What's up with the highlights?
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Mikey had always outwardly seemed like a selfish flake, he supposed. But people who knew him knew it wasn't the truth-- he cared about others, he put them before himself, he was always thinking, always doing. Just like Shinichiro, but a little more charming about it; a little more vibrant. If that wasn't true, his slow death wouldn't have burnt them all the way it did.
And he was like that here, too. He'd just suffered a loss, but here he was offering a stranger with his loss's face a lifeline-- a ride, a beer, a hand.
So, he'd take it. Lace their fingers and squeeze. Then take a sip of beer.]
...It's a little embarrassing. I dyed it after Mikey's accident. They ain't highlights, they just grown out. My mom was so pissed... school was pissed... but. I wanted a reminder. Until you woke up.
[He wanted a reminder he'd failed, actually. It was clear in the flat blunt side of his tone.
He knew Mikey was never gonna wake up. Shinichiro and Sanzu were fooling themselves...]
What's your favorite thing to do out with your friends? Sounds like you have a ton.
[That suited him.]
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this time, it isn't the same purpose, instead of calming it's a silent way to apologize. he listens to the tale, and while it's heartfelt, he can't imagine a blonde baji to save his life, not when his own sported long, luxurious strands of black hair that he cared for with his life.
no need to point out the obvious - that he never did come out of it. baji would know better than he does, and his finger pushes some hair behind his ear to look at him better.)
Surprised you're breathing, your mom would have killed you here.
(at the question-- strange to have to explain this to baji himself. where does he start?)
... I myself have a gang. Baji created it, and nominated me as the Leader. We have over a hundred people. I usually ride with them, we all have bikes and stuff - but my closest people are the uppermen, like you were - a captain and all. We usually hang out, I'm not picky to what we're doing so long as we're together.
... If you don't go to school, the Manji never existed, then what do you do through the day?