[ There was a time when Maruki visited the Enchanted Garden fairly frequently. Curiosity about new arrivals drove him – a desire to help, to be the one to gentle them into a new reality. Even if none appeared, it still was time well spent. He and Akechi had theorized early on in their partnership that areas of particularly concentrated cognitive manipulation, such as the garden, ought to be watched carefully. Maruki has spent countless days there, whiling away the afternoon, taking notes and seeing what he could see.
That habit dropped off a couple months ago. Settling into life in Somnius has meant getting close to people, spending time with them, and his hours of solitude dwindled as a result. Then there were the time rifts, and the closure of his office, and being flung into the war-torn future, and Eren's return – sustained, ever-shifting chaos followed by a period of rest that could only be classified as extremely necessary.
Subaru's return changes things.
It shakes Maruki. He's glad for the return of someone who was becoming a friend. Glad Subaru remembers all his time in Somnius as clearly as if he'd never left. Glad he and Eren have been reunited.
But he'd never expected it. People return, yes, but rarely. He knew Eren would return, yes, because he's Eren. Anyone else–
He has to wonder if there's something happening. Some wavering weakness in the cognition that created this world to hold them all in captivity. He has to wonder if next he'll see Adam, or Vash, or Mikasa.
It isn't hope that brings him back to the Enchanted Garden again, day after day. It isn't curiosity, either. It's only cautious dread.
And for a few days, it yields nothing. He shows up to find the garden empty, sticks around for a few hours and witnesses nothing for enough days in a row that it begins to feel like a sense of security. He's ready to write his gut feeling off as paranoia, free up his afternoons again, but something compels him to keep it up just a bit longer. A week, minimally, just to be sure.
It's there, seated amongst the flowers with his journals and his phones, that he looks up to see a figure so familiar, he could be forgiven for thinking his own cognition has finally broken cleanly in half and spilled out every buried distorted desire, every repressed pain in the shape of the person he's missed most.
His heart thrashes in his chest like birdwings against the bars of a cage. An instant wave of relief that crashes over him and leaves him so dizzy that it feels like nausea instead.
Tall, even with his shoulders slightly hunched. Messy hair, perfectly clean glasses. Missing a bag over his shoulder with a cat, but undeniably, inexplicably, blessedly: ]
Kurusu-kun.
[ He hasn't called that name in half a year.
Maruki feels himself standing before he's realized he's going to. The journals tumble out of his lap, the phones, both landing softly in the grass. His hands at his sides feel numb, and he reaches one out before him as he takes a step forward. ]
You're...
[ It could be a manipulation. A trick Somnius is playing on him for letting his guard down.
If it is, it's one he falls for without hesitation. His expression shifts from blank shock to a smile so wide that it aches, eyes crinkling up with warm delight, a soft and disbelieving laugh escaping. ]
no subject
That habit dropped off a couple months ago. Settling into life in Somnius has meant getting close to people, spending time with them, and his hours of solitude dwindled as a result. Then there were the time rifts, and the closure of his office, and being flung into the war-torn future, and Eren's return – sustained, ever-shifting chaos followed by a period of rest that could only be classified as extremely necessary.
Subaru's return changes things.
It shakes Maruki. He's glad for the return of someone who was becoming a friend. Glad Subaru remembers all his time in Somnius as clearly as if he'd never left. Glad he and Eren have been reunited.
But he'd never expected it. People return, yes, but rarely. He knew Eren would return, yes, because he's Eren. Anyone else–
He has to wonder if there's something happening. Some wavering weakness in the cognition that created this world to hold them all in captivity. He has to wonder if next he'll see Adam, or Vash, or Mikasa.
It isn't hope that brings him back to the Enchanted Garden again, day after day. It isn't curiosity, either. It's only cautious dread.
And for a few days, it yields nothing. He shows up to find the garden empty, sticks around for a few hours and witnesses nothing for enough days in a row that it begins to feel like a sense of security. He's ready to write his gut feeling off as paranoia, free up his afternoons again, but something compels him to keep it up just a bit longer. A week, minimally, just to be sure.
It's there, seated amongst the flowers with his journals and his phones, that he looks up to see a figure so familiar, he could be forgiven for thinking his own cognition has finally broken cleanly in half and spilled out every buried distorted desire, every repressed pain in the shape of the person he's missed most.
His heart thrashes in his chest like birdwings against the bars of a cage. An instant wave of relief that crashes over him and leaves him so dizzy that it feels like nausea instead.
Tall, even with his shoulders slightly hunched. Messy hair, perfectly clean glasses. Missing a bag over his shoulder with a cat, but undeniably, inexplicably, blessedly: ]
Kurusu-kun.
[ He hasn't called that name in half a year.
Maruki feels himself standing before he's realized he's going to. The journals tumble out of his lap, the phones, both landing softly in the grass. His hands at his sides feel numb, and he reaches one out before him as he takes a step forward. ]
You're...
[ It could be a manipulation. A trick Somnius is playing on him for letting his guard down.
If it is, it's one he falls for without hesitation. His expression shifts from blank shock to a smile so wide that it aches, eyes crinkling up with warm delight, a soft and disbelieving laugh escaping. ]
It's really you.
[ My guiding light. ]