[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?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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?