So many things. A student, a diligent worker, a leader. A Phantom Thief, a trickster, a rebel. A heart too huge for his chest. A mind sharper than an expertly wielded blade. A will stronger than anyone's. A trusted confidant. A guiding light. An unwitting enemy. A friend, a friend, a cherished friend.
If Rumi is his why, Akira is his how. Wholly necessary. Without him, things fall apart.
He's everything.
So of course Maruki remembers the very first words spoken to him when they reunited in this strange reality:
All these weeks, I'd wondered if you had something to do with him vanishing from this city.
Their conversation never circled back to that. There was too much else on the table to make room for it. But Maruki has never forgotten, not for one moment.
A two-bedroom unit.
Every desperate, aching impulse in Maruki's distorted heart to give him what he most wants rears up at once. Could he do it here? Summon Akechi back from the ether, smooth over the painful cracks and potholes and gaping chasms that have surely sprung up during their time apart, make it so that to Akira, he never left, in this reality or in any other. He could, he thinks, and it's there, nestled warm in the back of his mind right against the space Azathoth occupies. All he has to do is imagine it.
The memory of Akira seated across from him, smiling and fond, tea in hand and honesty ever-present in his eyes: There was suffering, and hardship, and pain... And it made every bit of happiness I've had shine brighter. It made it all worth it.
He watches Akira retreat down the hall, feeling rather unmoored. Like a stone dropped into a yawning abyss, in perpetual motion through darkness for so long that time seems to still until the very moment it strikes the bottom.
There's a pullover being handed to him. An offer being extended.
Maruki blinks at him, eyes wide and sad behind his glasses for just a moment before he smiles, grateful. God, he never stops feeling grateful. ]
Thank you. I'll definitely take a cup, please.
[ The shirt tugged on; only the slightest bit too small, but not bad. Like one he's kept since college. Comfortable.
He follows after Akira into the kitchen, slides into a seat to watch him fiddle with his coffee. It's all such a far cry from Leblanc. Maybe that's a good thing. ]
looks away from u and from guncat
So many things. A student, a diligent worker, a leader. A Phantom Thief, a trickster, a rebel. A heart too huge for his chest. A mind sharper than an expertly wielded blade. A will stronger than anyone's. A trusted confidant. A guiding light. An unwitting enemy. A friend, a friend, a cherished friend.
If Rumi is his why, Akira is his how. Wholly necessary. Without him, things fall apart.
He's everything.
So of course Maruki remembers the very first words spoken to him when they reunited in this strange reality:
All these weeks, I'd wondered if you had something to do with him vanishing from this city.
Their conversation never circled back to that. There was too much else on the table to make room for it. But Maruki has never forgotten, not for one moment.
A two-bedroom unit.
Every desperate, aching impulse in Maruki's distorted heart to give him what he most wants rears up at once. Could he do it here? Summon Akechi back from the ether, smooth over the painful cracks and potholes and gaping chasms that have surely sprung up during their time apart, make it so that to Akira, he never left, in this reality or in any other. He could, he thinks, and it's there, nestled warm in the back of his mind right against the space Azathoth occupies. All he has to do is imagine it.
The memory of Akira seated across from him, smiling and fond, tea in hand and honesty ever-present in his eyes: There was suffering, and hardship, and pain... And it made every bit of happiness I've had shine brighter. It made it all worth it.
He watches Akira retreat down the hall, feeling rather unmoored. Like a stone dropped into a yawning abyss, in perpetual motion through darkness for so long that time seems to still until the very moment it strikes the bottom.
There's a pullover being handed to him. An offer being extended.
Maruki blinks at him, eyes wide and sad behind his glasses for just a moment before he smiles, grateful. God, he never stops feeling grateful. ]
Thank you. I'll definitely take a cup, please.
[ The shirt tugged on; only the slightest bit too small, but not bad. Like one he's kept since college. Comfortable.
He follows after Akira into the kitchen, slides into a seat to watch him fiddle with his coffee. It's all such a far cry from Leblanc. Maybe that's a good thing. ]
Kurusu. How long have you been alone here?