[ He hears Akira's tone approaching anger, and the only thing Maruki can think is that he's so good. So wonderfully, unfailingly good – so unwilling to let someone break their own heart if there's any chance he can fall on the sword for them.
He doesn't need any sort of special ability to be able to see into a future where Akira takes it upon himself to dispel this product of Maruki's distorted heart and manipulated cognition for him – and it's a future that's rapidly closing in. There isn't time to argue, to justify–
There isn't time. ]
My heart has had to bear worse.
[ In every life, he will love her and lose her, again
and again,
and again.
There's no other ending to their story. A tale as old as time: A woman, a man who loves her and who destroys her for it. It's an old song, but it's one that must be sung.
Maruki keeps his eyes trained on Akira. That's what Akira can do for him, here and now. Hold his gaze, don't let him look as bright lights coalesce above them to make quick work of a body without a soul.
That's one thing the doppelganger gets right, though. The scream as she falls – it's plucked right from his memories on a frigid night out in the countryside. It's almost enough to make him doubt his instincts.
Almost.
Maruki doesn't look. Doesn't need to. The people bustling around them on the street are panicked enough about another one of those creatures appearing in their midst that he knows it's the truth. A body that vaporizes, disappears into mist when the one it wanted to feast on isn't looking at it.
Azathoth falls silent again at the base of his skull, only that goddamn aurora left coloring the air around them, and Maruki's stomach lurches so violently that his vision swims.
This is–
Bad. It's bad. Home is too far, he won't make it there. And as much as he loves Akira, the safehouse in Stellari is one of the infinitesimally few things he cannot share with him. They're in the city center, not too far at all from– ]
Kurusu.
[ His voice isn't so much soft as it is broken open, a raw and bleeding thing. ]
this sucks this sucks please feel free to skip ahead this SUCKS
He doesn't need any sort of special ability to be able to see into a future where Akira takes it upon himself to dispel this product of Maruki's distorted heart and manipulated cognition for him – and it's a future that's rapidly closing in. There isn't time to argue, to justify–
There isn't time. ]
My heart has had to bear worse.
[ In every life, he will love her and lose her, again
and again.
There's no other ending to their story. A tale as old as time: A woman, a man who loves her and who destroys her for it. It's an old song, but it's one that must be sung.
Maruki keeps his eyes trained on Akira. That's what Akira can do for him, here and now. Hold his gaze, don't let him look as bright lights coalesce above them to make quick work of a body without a soul.
That's one thing the doppelganger gets right, though. The scream as she falls – it's plucked right from his memories on a frigid night out in the countryside. It's almost enough to make him doubt his instincts.
Almost.
Maruki doesn't look. Doesn't need to. The people bustling around them on the street are panicked enough about another one of those creatures appearing in their midst that he knows it's the truth. A body that vaporizes, disappears into mist when the one it wanted to feast on isn't looking at it.
Azathoth falls silent again at the base of his skull, only that goddamn aurora left coloring the air around them, and Maruki's stomach lurches so violently that his vision swims.
This is–
Bad. It's bad. Home is too far, he won't make it there. And as much as he loves Akira, the safehouse in Stellari is one of the infinitesimally few things he cannot share with him. They're in the city center, not too far at all from– ]
Kurusu.
[ His voice isn't so much soft as it is broken open, a raw and bleeding thing. ]
Come with me to my office. Please.
[ Don't leave me. ]