(none of these tears are for himself. he'll feel for his own side of things later, much, much later. right now, they fall because he can't make it better. both of them have always been leveled, both leaders and with each other, just people. it's not like that anymore, with both trying so hard to be better for the other, when nothing is alright.
the tears fall because he sees yu's stance. he sees how hesitant, how it lacks composure and it's so deeply contrary to who yu really is. did he... ruin him? his spirit has always been unbreakable, and it feels like anything but. he's not a pretty crier, which is also a very good reason why his back is turned. he's sobbing, his heart is breaking, and he can't, won't, let yu see that. he doesn't want yu to feel bad for feeling bad - on top of it being strictly mikey's fault that this is all happening.
he feels so weak, and he never liked that feeling.)
... Still. You look like-- utter shit, you know. I just... I want to hug you, listen to everything you might want to tell me. I want to make it right. And you're terrified of me now.
... When I came to, you were already gone, Yuchin.
[You look like utter shit. Yu exhales, a few steps short of a chuckle, breathy and mirthless.]
I can imagine.
[It's not a surprise in the least; he's slept better the last few nights, but certainly not well, and he's certainly slipped a bit on taking care of himself. A lot of people probably wouldn't notice, but...of course Mikey does.
His brows pinch as he listens to those words, every single one, hovering in the doorway as if there's a physical barrier there, something keeping him out. It's not; the barrier is only in his head, but even as he listens to Mikey's sobs, he can't bring himself to come closer. His feet are frozen in place.
Is it Mikey that he's terrified of? It's hard to say. It's his own mind that won't let him come closer.
He...shouldn't have come.]
... I woke up on the stairs, after... [everything. This time, he does manage a huff of a laugh, dry and humorless.] It didn't even count as a loss, in the end.
(he can't, not really. not through mikey's eyes. what he lacks in formal education, he definitely makes out with how he processes the world around him. in the story his brain makes, those eyebags signify more than sleepless nights - they tell him a story of someone who's too hurt to close them. yu's always been too much of an overthinker, manjiiro can't imagine the speed his mind must be going per second. those exhales sing him a tale of a laugh that died in yu's throat, right where mikey squeezed not too long ago.
like he still is.
there's no force on earth that will make him turn, much like yu's own mind that refuses to allow him to come closer.)
... Because this place fucking sucks.
(it was a loss. no one could have seen reason.)
... I just wished I was home, so I couldn't hurt you again... And then I was.
(and there's so much he wants to say. and none that he feels like he has the right to. it doesn't matter.)
... You sent that text, so I figure you do have things you wanna say to me. I'm all ears, Yuchin.
[After a long period of time, evidently, with memories intact. Yu has to wonder...if he didn't remember anything, if Mikey looked at him like a stranger, would that hurt more, or less? Because he feels the other boy's scrutiny even if his gaze is averted; the measure of what could possibly cause his tears to fall is perfectly, terribly clear. Mikey knows him, the other boy has always seen him more than he'd like, and Yu isn't doing spectacularly, right now; he knows it, Yosuke knows it, everyone seems to know it, leaving Yu feeling seen, exposed, vulnerable. Very clearly, evidently, factually, Mikey knows the part he played in all of it, too. Feels remorse, regret. What happened very clearly matters to him.
And yet, Yu cannot will himself to take another step closer.
Mikey is right to think the wheels in his mind will not stop turning, over and over, stalling out and stumbling over the question of what's wrong with me? Because this isn't the first time something terrible has happened in Aldrip, not even the first time something has happened to him. Shouldn't he be able to move on...?]
... I never meant to send it, [he admits, softly, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck.] After I wrote it all, I wasn't sure I was ready to...so I tried to delete it.
[In spite of how his hands apparently felt, he's still not sure he was ready to send it. Another pang of regret twists in his chest. He shouldn't have come.]
(he never asked for any of it. he didn't ever ask to be so loved it destroys people - shinichiro, takemichi, yu. dead because of him. for him, in some cases. he adores just as much as he is adored, but isn't all of it a little too much?
he had many, many years to get over it. he had other things in mind, with all the work that came with knowing too much, and trying to make sure that knowledge doesn't come to fruition. many years of working into feeling worthy of it, even when he was so weak.
right now, he feels the weakest.)
... It's out either way.
(he lets a sniff, blocking his breathing not to let out a loud sob. he's trying to keep it together - crying has never suited him.
that's why his voice sounds so hoarse when he speaks. because he can't take another breath without it trembling.)
[None of them did. No one asks to be here. And yet-- here they are, the distance between them in the kitchen somehow spanning acres, miles-- as if each step required to bridge the gap would cross continents and worlds, entire galaxies. It's no distance at all. For Yu, stalled in the doorway, it's too far. Too much.
So, too, is there a part of him that is so, so glad to see Mikey again. To know that he's okay. To know that things got better.
A heart split in two: one half that wishes for less -- and one for more.
Yu finds that those words are the hardest to hear -- I'm listening. There is something so difficult about being the focus of that sort of listening; the idea that he must have some deeper truth to speak out feels almost more intimidating than the idea of crossing the threshold of the kitchen, at least for a moment. But the strain in Mikey's voice, the faint hitch, the recognition of that desperate attempt to keep it all together... His chest aches at the sound.
In his mind, that sliver of love, of care, reaches out, fingers threading through the other boy's hair, arms going around shoulders in a desperate embrace;
The doorway feels cold and constricting. His feet remain frozen. I came because I wanted to. It's so hard to say why.]
... How would you fix it? What would you do? [He doesn't look to Mikey for answers, here; the other boy doesn't have them, he knows. But he looks for advice, for suggestions, maybe. One thought, any thought, coming from outside of himself.]
(unfortunately, holding his breath can't be done forever, so eventually, he exhales, only to be unable to breathe properly - a sniffle, one that he still tries to hide because... does he even have the right to be crying? even if he didn't have all his setbacks about it, is it even okay for him to be the one to shed tears over this? he's managing, at least, to calm down in the pause between those two phrases, a breath, another breath, and he opens the tap to splash some of the water on his face. dissolve some of the salt that is stuck against the fair skin of his cheeks, calm his eyes for a second. it still doesn't make him turn, to feel that some of that is out -
but the question does. it's not a flowy movement, it's met with much hesitance as he slowly does, breathing, controlling what he can control, composure - leadership is a concept he doesn't find himself in anymore, but the experience will never not be a part of who he is.
with red skin and poofy eyes, manjiro finds himself pulling a chair on the table, legs crossed as if it were a cushion, and he takes a moment to consider what has been posed to him.)
... Honestly? From experience? I can't fix it. We can't fix what broke without traces of what was.
(a harsh reality, but a reality nonetheless.)
And aside from that, I'm not exactly the same person you loved once.
(past tense. he refuses to believe otherwise.)
What I can do, then, is rebuild. Redo. Spend the time I have in Aldrip, however long this fucking place decides to keep me, showing the person I love and hurt the most that I'm better.
(and here's where his gaze drops.)
... That said, you don't have to take me up on it. I've forgiven similar without a blink of an eye, and I've waged war and held grudges for much, much less. I don't have the right to tell you what to do, and my word doesn't do anything anyway.
[Quiet, patient, unmoving; Yu watches Mikey go through the motions to pull himself together with a feeling in his chest that he cannot completely place. There are traces of yearning, of guilt, sadness; he's not the type of person who likes to watch people suffer, and for a moment, he wonders if he should leave. Maybe this was too soon -- maybe he should have thought more about why he might be coming here. Mikey spurs him into impulsiveness, sometimes. Maybe he should have used more restraint.
Ever a creature of composure and intentionality, Yu only realized he spoke the words that way, phrased them that desperately, when the other boy rearranges them and serves them back to him. It makes sense; you don't fix something like this, you move past it. You go on. And that's so much harder to do, because you can't just bandage a wound like this and let it heal.]
I know, [he says softly, but somehow -- that doesn't feel as sad. That this Mikey is different, in some ways...he could tell the moment their eyes met, a few weeks ago. And Yu isn't the same, either. He doesn't love this version of himself, a wreck carefully wrapped up with scraps of manufactured equanimity, but he has to at least tolerate himself until he can pull his way through it.
Rebuild.]
I can see it. How much better you are. [A flicker of something works into his expression, something soft and approving, like he can see the ways Mikey's grown.] So...you don't have anything to prove to me.
[It's all him, at the end of the day. His mind being reactionary, instead of logical. Something deep within him that won't let go. And to be honest, for a moment, he almost wishes he did have a Shadow, right now. Maybe that experience would give him some insight, some hint at how to sort himself out.
Maybe...maybe he just needs to be honest about it.]
I can't tell me what to do, either. It's like my body isn't listening to my mind.
(better in some ways, perhaps worse in others. he's never going to be perfect, no matter how many times he goes back in time, no matter what he does, because he's just a person - regardless of whatever status, whatever titles, whatever adoration that may be put upon his shoulders. that has never been the issue - all are flawed, after all.
what has always been mikey's downfall is the weight on his shoulders never being fully shared, manjiro never really asking anyone to help carry it. he still bottles the storms that he stumbles upon in his mind, and leaves himself behind in the downpour for others to thrive, but he won't drown. he learned to ask for someone to be shelter, even if most of his core remains the same.
this is why they're talking, to begin with. it's gut-wrenching, and if he's not a leader, but speaking as a person, this is the best he can do. it's not perfect, but it is better - isn't that the point? yu can see it, he says, but seeing and really experiencing are different things. they won't know until the next time this place shoves them into discord, or next time mikey has to use his fists.
... but he recognizes that. mind-body dichotomy. this is why, foolishly, he once believed that the impulses he felt weren't all that problematic - because they allowed him to do whatever his mind was too hesitant to do. turns out, that isn't always a good thing. this doesn't... seem like that.
so, he's standing, almost too slow, as to not startle the other, steps equally calculated until he's closer enough that he has to look up to face yu. his hand, small, callous from fighting, but yet ever so gracious raises with its palm up.
[He's not ready. He's here. Yu watches with breath held in his lungs as the other boy unfolds from the chair, bridging the distance between them as if it's nothing -- as if it's everything --
How can everything feel so similar and yet so different all the same? They can both feel it, he imagines, the heartbreak waiting at the end of that slow march; Mikey holds out his hand, but what's really there is his heart, vulnerable in a way he never really allowed himself to be before. Waiting.
Yu doesn't move, his hands frozen at his sides, clutched into fists. He doesn't release his breath until he's almost forced, his body begging for air-- again-- and his heart lurches in his chest as his mind does its damndest to go back there, to remind him of danger, death;
The exhale is shaky, his throat thick with words left unsaid, the memory of hands around it.
But Mikey holds out this olive branch with a patience that feels like both a balm and a devastating blow, and he looks up at Yu with gentleness, understanding, affection-- The crack forming is little more than a hairline fracture, splitting through anxiety that feels programmed into his mind, and it's not gone; he's not sure if it'll ever go away, really. But it lessens its grip and for a second, just one, he feels like he's no longer bound by it.
He takes Mikey's hand, gives it a small, gentle squeeze.]
(he missed this angle - one he can only see when he's close enough to. he'll tell yu how he missed him even before he left, if yu will ever want to hear what was going through his mind at the time. a time when he was behind a cloudy glass, going through motions, with a smile plastered on his face, as he withered inside the maze the curse made. a time he hasn't thought about in so long, and yet, it's been more and more all he can think about as of late.
a time he can't go back to - and it's something he's anxious about now that there's skin touching his own. this whole time-travel thing works simply based on despair, of yearning for how things could be different, when two people are anguished and urging. it's not manjiro's case. if he went back, he'd miss all these moments they built. they won't have the opportunity to allow something beautiful to bloom from misery. still, it's the reason why his breath hitches, body reacting on its own to what his mind knows won't happen.
two peas in a pod, huh.
but the tension escapes him in a quiet laugh, as his other hand settles on top of yu's, large doll-like eyes scanning him from toe all the way to his head--)
Fuck, since I've been looking at you from a distance since I got back, I kinda forgot how tall you are compared to me.
Part of him hates that he's feeling it again right now, that he's letting that warmth seep into his bones. Part of him can't stand the thought of going through this again, wants to push it all away, wondering how it could possibly be worth it to let anything in. It would hurt less, he knows, if he let go right now. It would hurt less to put a wall between them.
But he can't. Even if he wanted to -- that's not who he is anymore.
So he stands in the doorway with Mikey's hand in his, feeling warmth flood his veins and wondering, with trepidation and without reservation, what the future might hold. What pain, what joy--
He smiles at that remark, and he means it. He squeezes the other boy's hand, a silent admittance that he, too, has missed this view. Has missed this. Has missed him. Yu has never been one for saying these things aloud, and now is no different in that regard. But he acknowledges through the warmth of clasped hands that he's ready, or will be ready, to move on. To try again. To move forward.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
EXPIATION
no subject
the tears fall because he sees yu's stance. he sees how hesitant, how it lacks composure and it's so deeply contrary to who yu really is. did he... ruin him? his spirit has always been unbreakable, and it feels like anything but. he's not a pretty crier, which is also a very good reason why his back is turned. he's sobbing, his heart is breaking, and he can't, won't, let yu see that. he doesn't want yu to feel bad for feeling bad - on top of it being strictly mikey's fault that this is all happening.
he feels so weak, and he never liked that feeling.)
... Still. You look like-- utter shit, you know. I just... I want to hug you, listen to everything you might want to tell me. I want to make it right. And you're terrified of me now.
... When I came to, you were already gone, Yuchin.
no subject
I can imagine.
[It's not a surprise in the least; he's slept better the last few nights, but certainly not well, and he's certainly slipped a bit on taking care of himself. A lot of people probably wouldn't notice, but...of course Mikey does.
His brows pinch as he listens to those words, every single one, hovering in the doorway as if there's a physical barrier there, something keeping him out. It's not; the barrier is only in his head, but even as he listens to Mikey's sobs, he can't bring himself to come closer. His feet are frozen in place.
Is it Mikey that he's terrified of? It's hard to say. It's his own mind that won't let him come closer.
He...shouldn't have come.]
... I woke up on the stairs, after... [everything. This time, he does manage a huff of a laugh, dry and humorless.] It didn't even count as a loss, in the end.
no subject
like he still is.
there's no force on earth that will make him turn, much like yu's own mind that refuses to allow him to come closer.)
... Because this place fucking sucks.
(it was a loss. no one could have seen reason.)
... I just wished I was home, so I couldn't hurt you again... And then I was.
(and there's so much he wants to say. and none that he feels like he has the right to. it doesn't matter.)
... You sent that text, so I figure you do have things you wanna say to me. I'm all ears, Yuchin.
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[After a long period of time, evidently, with memories intact. Yu has to wonder...if he didn't remember anything, if Mikey looked at him like a stranger, would that hurt more, or less? Because he feels the other boy's scrutiny even if his gaze is averted; the measure of what could possibly cause his tears to fall is perfectly, terribly clear. Mikey knows him, the other boy has always seen him more than he'd like, and Yu isn't doing spectacularly, right now; he knows it, Yosuke knows it, everyone seems to know it, leaving Yu feeling seen, exposed, vulnerable. Very clearly, evidently, factually, Mikey knows the part he played in all of it, too. Feels remorse, regret. What happened very clearly matters to him.
And yet, Yu cannot will himself to take another step closer.
Mikey is right to think the wheels in his mind will not stop turning, over and over, stalling out and stumbling over the question of what's wrong with me? Because this isn't the first time something terrible has happened in Aldrip, not even the first time something has happened to him. Shouldn't he be able to move on...?]
... I never meant to send it, [he admits, softly, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck.] After I wrote it all, I wasn't sure I was ready to...so I tried to delete it.
[In spite of how his hands apparently felt, he's still not sure he was ready to send it. Another pang of regret twists in his chest. He shouldn't have come.]
no subject
(he never asked for any of it. he didn't ever ask to be so loved it destroys people - shinichiro, takemichi, yu. dead because of him. for him, in some cases. he adores just as much as he is adored, but isn't all of it a little too much?
he had many, many years to get over it. he had other things in mind, with all the work that came with knowing too much, and trying to make sure that knowledge doesn't come to fruition. many years of working into feeling worthy of it, even when he was so weak.
right now, he feels the weakest.)
... It's out either way.
(he lets a sniff, blocking his breathing not to let out a loud sob. he's trying to keep it together - crying has never suited him.
that's why his voice sounds so hoarse when he speaks. because he can't take another breath without it trembling.)
... I'm here. I'm listening.
no subject
[None of them did. No one asks to be here. And yet-- here they are, the distance between them in the kitchen somehow spanning acres, miles-- as if each step required to bridge the gap would cross continents and worlds, entire galaxies. It's no distance at all. For Yu, stalled in the doorway, it's too far. Too much.
So, too, is there a part of him that is so, so glad to see Mikey again. To know that he's okay. To know that things got better.
A heart split in two: one half that wishes for less -- and one for more.
Yu finds that those words are the hardest to hear -- I'm listening. There is something so difficult about being the focus of that sort of listening; the idea that he must have some deeper truth to speak out feels almost more intimidating than the idea of crossing the threshold of the kitchen, at least for a moment. But the strain in Mikey's voice, the faint hitch, the recognition of that desperate attempt to keep it all together... His chest aches at the sound.
In his mind, that sliver of love, of care, reaches out, fingers threading through the other boy's hair, arms going around shoulders in a desperate embrace;
The doorway feels cold and constricting. His feet remain frozen. I came because I wanted to. It's so hard to say why.]
... How would you fix it? What would you do? [He doesn't look to Mikey for answers, here; the other boy doesn't have them, he knows. But he looks for advice, for suggestions, maybe. One thought, any thought, coming from outside of himself.]
no subject
but the question does. it's not a flowy movement, it's met with much hesitance as he slowly does, breathing, controlling what he can control, composure - leadership is a concept he doesn't find himself in anymore, but the experience will never not be a part of who he is.
with red skin and poofy eyes, manjiro finds himself pulling a chair on the table, legs crossed as if it were a cushion, and he takes a moment to consider what has been posed to him.)
... Honestly? From experience? I can't fix it. We can't fix what broke without traces of what was.
(a harsh reality, but a reality nonetheless.)
And aside from that, I'm not exactly the same person you loved once.
(past tense. he refuses to believe otherwise.)
What I can do, then, is rebuild. Redo. Spend the time I have in Aldrip, however long this fucking place decides to keep me, showing the person I love and hurt the most that I'm better.
(and here's where his gaze drops.)
... That said, you don't have to take me up on it. I've forgiven similar without a blink of an eye, and I've waged war and held grudges for much, much less. I don't have the right to tell you what to do, and my word doesn't do anything anyway.
no subject
Ever a creature of composure and intentionality, Yu only realized he spoke the words that way, phrased them that desperately, when the other boy rearranges them and serves them back to him. It makes sense; you don't fix something like this, you move past it. You go on. And that's so much harder to do, because you can't just bandage a wound like this and let it heal.]
I know, [he says softly, but somehow -- that doesn't feel as sad. That this Mikey is different, in some ways...he could tell the moment their eyes met, a few weeks ago. And Yu isn't the same, either. He doesn't love this version of himself, a wreck carefully wrapped up with scraps of manufactured equanimity, but he has to at least tolerate himself until he can pull his way through it.
Rebuild.]
I can see it. How much better you are. [A flicker of something works into his expression, something soft and approving, like he can see the ways Mikey's grown.] So...you don't have anything to prove to me.
[It's all him, at the end of the day. His mind being reactionary, instead of logical. Something deep within him that won't let go. And to be honest, for a moment, he almost wishes he did have a Shadow, right now. Maybe that experience would give him some insight, some hint at how to sort himself out.
Maybe...maybe he just needs to be honest about it.]
I can't tell me what to do, either. It's like my body isn't listening to my mind.
no subject
what has always been mikey's downfall is the weight on his shoulders never being fully shared, manjiro never really asking anyone to help carry it. he still bottles the storms that he stumbles upon in his mind, and leaves himself behind in the downpour for others to thrive, but he won't drown. he learned to ask for someone to be shelter, even if most of his core remains the same.
this is why they're talking, to begin with. it's gut-wrenching, and if he's not a leader, but speaking as a person, this is the best he can do. it's not perfect, but it is better - isn't that the point? yu can see it, he says, but seeing and really experiencing are different things. they won't know until the next time this place shoves them into discord, or next time mikey has to use his fists.
... but he recognizes that. mind-body dichotomy. this is why, foolishly, he once believed that the impulses he felt weren't all that problematic - because they allowed him to do whatever his mind was too hesitant to do. turns out, that isn't always a good thing. this doesn't... seem like that.
so, he's standing, almost too slow, as to not startle the other, steps equally calculated until he's closer enough that he has to look up to face yu. his hand, small, callous from fighting, but yet ever so gracious raises with its palm up.
he's giving a choice.)
Then I come to you, and we start small, Yuchin.
no subject
How can everything feel so similar and yet so different all the same? They can both feel it, he imagines, the heartbreak waiting at the end of that slow march; Mikey holds out his hand, but what's really there is his heart, vulnerable in a way he never really allowed himself to be before. Waiting.
Yu doesn't move, his hands frozen at his sides, clutched into fists. He doesn't release his breath until he's almost forced, his body begging for air-- again-- and his heart lurches in his chest as his mind does its damndest to go back there, to remind him of danger, death;
The exhale is shaky, his throat thick with words left unsaid, the memory of hands around it.
But Mikey holds out this olive branch with a patience that feels like both a balm and a devastating blow, and he looks up at Yu with gentleness, understanding, affection-- The crack forming is little more than a hairline fracture, splitting through anxiety that feels programmed into his mind, and it's not gone; he's not sure if it'll ever go away, really. But it lessens its grip and for a second, just one, he feels like he's no longer bound by it.
He takes Mikey's hand, gives it a small, gentle squeeze.]
Small. I can do that.
no subject
a time he can't go back to - and it's something he's anxious about now that there's skin touching his own. this whole time-travel thing works simply based on despair, of yearning for how things could be different, when two people are anguished and urging. it's not manjiro's case. if he went back, he'd miss all these moments they built. they won't have the opportunity to allow something beautiful to bloom from misery. still, it's the reason why his breath hitches, body reacting on its own to what his mind knows won't happen.
two peas in a pod, huh.
but the tension escapes him in a quiet laugh, as his other hand settles on top of yu's, large doll-like eyes scanning him from toe all the way to his head--)
Fuck, since I've been looking at you from a distance since I got back, I kinda forgot how tall you are compared to me.
no subject
Part of him hates that he's feeling it again right now, that he's letting that warmth seep into his bones. Part of him can't stand the thought of going through this again, wants to push it all away, wondering how it could possibly be worth it to let anything in. It would hurt less, he knows, if he let go right now. It would hurt less to put a wall between them.
But he can't. Even if he wanted to -- that's not who he is anymore.
So he stands in the doorway with Mikey's hand in his, feeling warmth flood his veins and wondering, with trepidation and without reservation, what the future might hold. What pain, what joy--
He smiles at that remark, and he means it. He squeezes the other boy's hand, a silent admittance that he, too, has missed this view. Has missed this. Has missed him. Yu has never been one for saying these things aloud, and now is no different in that regard. But he acknowledges through the warmth of clasped hands that he's ready, or will be ready, to move on. To try again. To move forward.]