#Rip hide

[estellamiraiauthor]

The Stars May Rise and Fall: The Annotated Re-read (Chapter 18)

And here we are at chapter 18, which is… one I actually kind of like? And am proud of? What kind of bizarre opposite world are we living in?

And we finally meet Chizuru, who’s one of my favorite characters and who I’ve been talking about so much that I’m honestly surprised she doesn’t show up until chapter 18!

As always, spoilers (including spoilers for chapters beyond this one) under the cut. This chapter’s comments also include mention of death, including suicide.

So this is the first chapter we’ve had with the band in awhile, and lots of things are changing for the better: the new drummer, Nao, has officially joined, they’ve got staff (Kiyomi) to sell their goods, and today is the release date for the new single. Despite the disaster at the love hotel, Rei has of course finished the single… I’m not really sure if he’s expecting to be able to go on having a professional relationship with Teru… probably not, but he’s not going to back out of something he’s already specifically agreed to do (even if the CDs are just delivered impersonally to a PO Box). Also I think he’s still kind of Secretly Hopeful things will somehow work out?

Of course, Teru continues to feel like shit. It definitely doesn’t help that they’re back in the first venue where Rei initially saw him play, and he’s definitely not sure if he’s secretly hoping Rei is here tonight, as well.

Poor Nao, the replacement drummer, doesn’t get a lot of characterization… there was initially a little more, but other than being there and making the band better, he isn’t that important to the main plot, and a lot of it got cut. I don’t even think I really ever describe what he looks like, which is sad, because I always imagine him looking like this one guy in a band I used to follow who had long, straight hair parted down the middle that was jet black on one side and platinum blond on the other. That’s incredibly cool and I wish I’d included it.

But all that’s really left here is a short conversation about what happened to Bara and how some mysterious “fan” also suggested that Nao join the band… of course, Teru knows that this was also Rei, who he’s already trying and failing not to think about, and then when Nao makes a comment about smoking being bad for your voice (i.e. exactly what Rei always says), it’s just too much of a reminder, and Teru leaves the conversation to go upstairs.

(“Upstairs” here is the first basement, where the stage and the area for bands to sell their CDs and things are; the dressing room, the little break area, and the restrooms are in the second basement—all of this is based directly on the actual venue.)

Kiyomi gives him the set lists… I don’t think this is unique to visual kei or to Japan, but they’d always tape the set lists to the backs of the speakers or to the floor, at least one for every band member. I don’t really remember if I mentioned Kiyomi’s pretty, feminine handwriting to deliberately contrast it with Rei’s, which is barely legible, but maybe? Or maybe it was just a throwaway detail?

The next part is definitely not a throwaway detail, though. Kiyomi tells Teru she has something to tell him and takes him down into the stairwell leading to the restrooms (there are separate staircases for the restrooms, which anyone can use, and the dressing room and break area, which require a backstage pass). The stairwell is absolutely COVERED with graffiti, and this is, or at least was, more or less real. I’m not sure if the graffiti is still there, and of course the SPECIFIC graffiti in the book isn’t actually there, but the stairwell filled with graffiti proclaiming love for various bands was completely real.

What Kiyomi wants to show Teru is just that someone has written HIS band’s name on the wall, which is definitely cool—they’re a part of history! But of course that’s not the most important part of this scene.

I’ve talked before about the absolutely ridiculous death rate in this particular subculture. I don’t really think theres one specific reason behind it, but this particular type of music does tend to attract people who are intense, who just FEEL very deeply I guess and who might tend to live slightly reckless lives in pursuit of their music. There’s a lot of debate over whether Hide from X Japan was a suicide or not… people who knew him say he was probably just stretching his neck with a towel, not actually trying to hang himself. I’ve even heard it suggested that there was somehow foul play, although I’m not sure what the reasoning behind that is. Regardless, he was very drunk at the time and would apparently regularly get drunk and hurt himself… too fast to live too young to die, etc? There were a lot of sudden deaths—the book mentions Kami from Malice Mizer, who died of a sudden aneurysm in 1999. I think he was maybe in his mid-20s? Around 2002, the bassist from a little indie band I’d seen a few times died the same way; he was 19. There were quite a few car crashes when I was in the scene (not all resulting in death, but there would occasionally be concerts cancelled for minor injuries and there was a guitarist who lost an arm, etc.), probably just the result of young people who weren’t very experienced drivers rushing from concert to concert at midnight because they couldn’t afford a night off in a hotel in between. Suicides… although both were still alive at the time the story is set, and therefore aren’t on the wall, Isshi from Kagrra, Taiji from X Japan. And then there was the band where half of them drowned filming a music video. it’s just a LOT, compared to the overall population of the subculture, and quite a bit of the graffiti on that wall WAS “RIP” messages… and of course that’s the most important thing that Teru finds here.

An aside here… in retrospect, it seems completely ridiculous that Teru remembers Hide’s death as “over two years ago, now”, as if that’s a horribly long time. Two years, people. TWO. Oh, to be 21…. 😂Seriously, though, we’re coming up on the TWENTY FIFTH anniversary of Hide’s death next month, and this sort of wistful “two years ago” seems… “funny” is not the right word but… just very “21-year-old without a lot of life experience” in retrospect. (At the time I wrote it, I think two years legitimately seemed like a long time. I was 23.)

So I really think Teru is just kind of… confronting his own mortality here, because while of course he knows that youth and talent and beauty aren’t forever, he’s recently had reason to sort of have that emotionally driven home, and because that’s sort of on his mind ANYWAY he’s noticing the “RIP” messages probably more than he otherwise would… when he finds one for Rei’s band. Before this point, Teru didn’t actually know what Rei’s band was called or what any of his bandmates’ names were, but how many entire bands with frontmen named Rei all died (or, well, were rumoured to have died) all on the same night in 1995? It’s clear that this is Rei’s band, and finding it first makes Teru feel a little more of the age gap between them, I think… he was only 15 on January 5, 1995. And then I think it just makes him feel even sadder and more hopeless, and again that deep sense of injustice, this time not only for Rei but also for those other names on the wall.

A couple of other seemingly insignificant but actually important things happen here: Yasu tells Teru there’s an after party, and this time Teru agrees to go since for once he doesn’t have plans with Rei, and he considers and decides against wearing Kiyomi’s necklace… still hoping, I think, that Rei is going to be watching the show, even though he doesn’t expect it.

At the end of their set, the crowd actually screams for an encore… this was fairly unusual at these little shows with 5 or 6 bands playing (half the time the venue staff would quash it even if the fans asked for it), as is shown by the fact that they don’t actually have an encore prepared, and since their drummer JUST joined they can’t just dig up something old he doesn’t know yet… so they decide to play the second song that Rei gave them, which they’d been practicing but hadn’t planned to play live yet. The title (Phoenix) is another super blatant nod to Phantom of the Paradise. (Im not even sorry; that movie is the sole reason I wanted to write a Phantom retelling in the first place.)

Another one of my favorite lines here, as the audience laps up the suuuuper angsty, tragic song: “This is visual kei, after all. Who doesn’t love a good tragedy?” I think Teru’s partly just calling HIMSELF out here—yes, he’s more than a little drawn to Rei BECAUSE of the whole tragic backstory thing, and this room full of (mostly) girls who love all these songs about death and heartache and loss almost definitely spent way too much money on the Hide tribute album or the Kami memorial box set… at what point are we mourning these tragedies and at what point are we just plain enjoying them? I definitely don’t think Teru knows, and he’s probably as guilty of it as any of them, but now  he’s seeing that that’s not really fair either… that none of this is fair, and he doesn’t know how to deal with that.

But he doesn’t have time to process it because he has to go out into the lobby and sell CDs and sign autographs and I’m actually really proud of the MOOD of this whole thing. I like the way I wrote this chapter, sorrynotsorry.

And then at the very end of the night, when they’re all about to get kicked out, Teru finally goes up to the balcony, thinking Rei might be there after all… and he’s not, but he finally meets Chizuru, who’s the sort of Daroga character here, as in she’s the one who has known Rei for years, she’s the one who helps him, in various ways, navigate the “normal” world. I love her a lot… she’s so complicated, and we definitely don’t learn as much about her on the page as other characters, but even here, she says directly that she hates Rei and calls him a “self-centered bastard,” but also seems to genuinely want him to be happy—probably partly because it makes her life easier when he’s not in a terrible mood, but I also think that after fate kind of threw them together as the two survivors (she wasn’t in the accident, but as the hair and makeup artist she usually would have been with the band and I think does feel similar survivor’s guilt because she stayed behind), I do think she’s gotten to know him well enough that she does understand, sympathize with, and care for him, even if that doesn’t extend to friendship per se.

She gives Teru a message from Rei—to stop parading his “girlfriend” around in front of the fans. Rei is definitely just being petty here… I think he knows Teru doesn’t seriously want to date Kiyomi, but seeing her here just kind of reminds him of what he can’t have, and he takes out that kind of aimless frustration on Kiyomi (and Chizuru as his proxy). But then she tells Teru that Rei isn’t angry so much as he believes that he deserves everything that’s happened to him, but that he doesn’t really want to lose Teru…. In other words, encouraging Teru to go back and apologize.

I think this is partly selfish. Chizuru doesn’t want to be Rei’s caregiver forever. She wants to move on, as we���ll see later, but I do think there’s an obligation she feels to Rei. He doesn’t need 24 hour care anymore, but he definitely did at one point, and he’s not really 100% independent, even now. She’s not going to completely desert him and make him hire some government care worker… but if there’s anyone else out there who might actually WANT to help?

At the same time, though, I think she actually does care for Rei at some level. I think she’s also fiercely independent and can sort of identify with him on that… so while she’s not going to abandon him, she does want him to find something that’s more happiness and less “We depend on each other because everyone we actually loved is dead.”

Yeah, this is kinda relentlessly sad, I’m sorry.

[charcoaldustonmyfingers]

Good Listener, Part 3

[ 1 - 2 - 3 ]

My brother and I couldn’t be more different in our interests, and if we were strangers I doubt we would find anything we had in common. Even so, he and I talk quite often. No matter how much we might not understand the things the other likes, we care about each other enough to listen and learn.

I feel like Donnie and Mikey would be the same. Polar opposites, but that’s exactly why they get along so well.

Sometimes when I’m confused at how to comfort someone, I’ll ask if they need to vent or if they need advice. I can get really frustrated sometimes when I get unsolicited advice, so it helps me not make them feel any worse if they just need a shoulder to lean on. Sometimes that’s all you need :)

Anyways! My favorite kind of character relationship is one where they can just be comfortable vibing in the same room doing their own thing parallel the other while listening to them talk about it. Great basis for friendship. Very relatable lol

[jangmi-latte]

wait if he was a first year here and vil said he bulked up/grew bigger during the latest beanfest then...then what is this. is this not bulky enough what h..how big did he grow now that he's a third year..h-he grew bigger???? h-he gained more muscle now that he's older??? a-and he's still working out???? w-what do you mean wha..what i..i like...like he GREW BIGGER????????

BIGGER!??!??!??!?!!?!!??

[finnitesimal]

yeah okay

He's into blondes

[hinamie]

yuuji and megumi on the same skateboard

on it boss

[edorazzi]

Page 16 of my Miraculous Mentor AU comic A Matter of Trust! In which Felix highlights significant differences in the Black Cat Miraculous 15 years before Adrien got it - all that unstable chaos magic would not stay inside! 💀💣

Index | Start | Prev | Next

Weekly updates each Sunday! You can also read ahead early on Patreon, and/or buy me a Ko-fi if you'd like to support my work! 💖

[emacrow]

When Diana and her twin Jason was born after her, Jason was left to be disposed off in Amazon, only for him to disappear a second later.

Clockwork saw the possibility and took the freshly wet newborn swapping him with The Fenton's stillborn.

For what he saw in the possibility of the future was nearly endless as he did what he had to do.. for the best outcome to come forth..

A pebble here, a rocket ship toy there, an inch of furniture moved then so that incident doesn't happen, a poster paper on that tree. Minor tiny changes to help bring the visual to the present.

All leading to clockwork giving 19 year old sleep deprived danny an small yet important task to deliver a scroll in another dimension leading up to his body regressed in that dimension timeline the moment he slipped in and out the portal.

Diana knew she had a twin brother out there.. and she was going to find him.

What she didn't know that he was literally falling into her arms, when she and Superman went to check on the Glowing lararus pit portal made near metropolis.

Tiny little boy who look completely tired as he went unconscious holding a purple and green scroll in his hands, wearing clothes 3 times his size.

[aroaceleovaldez]

we should make Nico more fucked up, actually. enough woobifying him. that boy should be covered in blood and viscera

[arsonistmoth]

Aight eASTER GIFT TO YOU ALL. Some of my fav lambs havin a sheerin party now that the weather is getting (uncomfortably) warm. Who let their cat in to steal some lanolin rich wool tho- All these lambs belong toooo: @circuscountdowns @runningwithscizzorz @xmajordumps @ballad-of-the-lamb @cyberstarlope and myself (yea mines just...doin the full on dog shake of 'just got shEERED IM FREE MOTHERFUCKERS')

[queen-of-paradise]

I'm trying real hard for the haiku bot to find my secret haiku.

[nenoname]

Details in Stan's letter that still haunt me

(how long will I continue thinking about a two page letter that's technically not even that long because Stan's handwriting is fricking large? .....you don't need to worry about that.)

The bro code only shows up in the Lost Journal pages, and to me Stan's message feels like it purposely echoes Ford's "miss you" in the college photo (and for some reason the message doesn't appear in the website version of the photo?) ....or alternatively Stan simply noticed how distressed Ford was about this entire thing and wanted to support him in a way so he can be sappy but without the kids knowing, or both!

Stan's claim about the Oregon lottery contradicts what the Lost Legends website said about Tate McGucket's ability to predict the winning numbers!! ...but also breaking into the Lottery HQ is definitely a very Stan thing to do and it's not the first time small gags have been retconned

Despite spending most of his letter nonchalantly destroying him, the taunt about ripping a dollar bill in half is the only part where Stan is directly responding to Bill. Maybe it's the two of them having similar ways of thinking but it's rather specific considering Bill taunts the reader about it...

And after Bill spends an entire book calling Ford Sixer despite normally using a pretty wide range of nicknames for him, Stan then spends his letter mainly referring to Ford as Sixer, even though post-Weirdmageddon he tends to use a mix of nicknames. And it's not like he'd gotten to see Bill himself for long, let alone see him steal that childhood nickname (that is only used twice in the actual show btw!). Did Ford tell him what happened or...?

With all this and the website's "still on your mind" message, what I'm getting at is my tinfoil hat theory of Stan somehow seeing some of the pages the irl readers saw, even when it should be personalised to the specific reader, and he's been lying about it for some reason. Considering that the book flat out doesn't make an attempt at convincing Soos, I find it a stretch that whatever Bill was telling Stan via the book was an attempt to convince him either.

Wouldn't be the first time Stan's skimmed through a book and lied about what it meant to him.

(...Now I kinda wanna see a story about the family reading their versions of the book and making fun of it while Stan is improvising every single one of his pages and blatantly ignoring Bill's attempts to mock and taunt him)

But also I'm fascinated by the letters that only showed up on the website (aka the Soos+Wendy+McGucket+Pacifica ones). I'm assuming that Mabel had stuck them on after Stan's letter... but they were basically eaten by the book itself because seeing Stan's letter kick-started Bill's breakdown which takes up the rest of the book

[hoofpeet]

Can't stop thinking about how Chilchuck and Snufkin are the same character to me so I have decided that he's a Mumrik. send tweet

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THERE WAS NO PLACE IN NATURE WE COULD MEET ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; it’s never fun to run into an ex; especially when the ex in question is your unfairly handsome high school sweetheart. and just so happens to also be a wanted mass murderer.

word count; 3.3k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, geto-typical angst, exes to [redacted], lots of longing, geto is kind of a cunt but also disgustingly charming, reader is understandably upset, biblical imagery (i just think he’s so serpent coded), curse user geto is his own warning tbh

a/n; i wanted this to be a drabble so bad but it ended up just a little too long for me to get away w it so … :’3 yeah. i hate suguru geto (said w affection)

the moon is out.

in the shadows of the street corner you find yourself in, seated comfortably on the sidewalk, it’s a welcome distraction. something to look at, in the midst of your loneliness; the evanescent glow of the moon, illuminating your solitude.

a solitude soon to be broken. shattered into pieces, battered and bruised beyond recognition, jagged shards littering the asphalt. digging into the soles of your shoes.

”hey.”

for a second, you think you must be dreaming.

the figure obscuring the light of the lamp post in front of you is familiar. too familiar, a little too dear for your liking. as you grasp your shitty cup ramen, seeking the warmth seeping through the polystyrene, all you can do is stare. blinking dumbly, drowsily.

geto looks something like a bad omen.

sharp facial features, even sharper eyes. so dark they almost shift from an amber-tainted cedar into an obsidian black — two abysses, staring into your soul, beckoning you closer. they were always enchanting, but now you think they look almost hypnotizing. not at all in a good way. dark hair frames his face, cascading down his back, longer than you remember it being. and he’s wearing robes.

still has those fucked up bangs, though. of all the things to keep.

the gears of your mind turn, endlessly, untangling the mess of thoughts inside your brain. ensuring you that no, you are not hallucinating, and no, you didn’t fall into a deep slumber somewhere between the moment you exited the convenience store and sat down by one of tokyo’s empty street corners. this is real. a reality you can’t comprehend, can’t even begin to process.

what stands in front of you is a ghost. but ghosts don’t exist, can’t be seen, can’t touch the living.

(so how is he able to haunt you like this?)

what eventually jolts you out of your silent stupor is not the questioning tilt of his head, nor the suffocating sensation of your heart crawling up your throat, but the feeling of soft fur against your leg. the stray cat you met further down the street meows at you, sweetly, trying to get your attention. you think she must be asking for more grilled fish.

so, completely ignoring the apparition in front of you, you turn to reach for the little plastic bag you bought as a midnight snack — digging out a bit of fish for the kitty to enjoy. she seems happy, settling down by your feet. purring softly.

geto watches, eerily silent. 

(maybe he’s upset that you’re ruining his dramatic entrance. you hope so.)

finally, you have no choice but to look at him. a lump forms in the back of your throat, clogging up a little more for every second spent falling into the trap he’s laid out for you, trailing over his moonlit features with your tired gaze.

mouth full of noodles, staring holes into his attire, you narrow your eyes. suddenly disgruntled.

his lips quirk up. ”something the matter?” he asks, and you can’t even begin to describe how much you hate his voice. how devastatingly deep it is, during the late hours of the night, even deeper than it was back in high school. 

slurping up the soggy noodles, you lean back a little, licking some broth off your lips. finally meeting those abyssal eyes. 

”… i was gonna say those robes look like shit on you,” comes an exhale, weary, ”but you actually kinda pull them off. that’s…” 

a beat. you struggle to find the right word. 

”annoying.”

geto’s lips curl up, smoothly, and you find a hint of familiar amusement in the vague crinkle of his eyes. barely visible crows’ feet. then he’s moving — plopping down right beside you, robes fluttering with the breeze.

”well, thank you.” he hums; crossing his legs.

the silence that festers around you is odd. not quite suffocating, nor especially fragile. definitely not comforting. it’s familiar, yet different, and it hurts a bit more than it should. but you choose to look at him, out of the corner of your eye, and he looks right back at you. still smiling that eerie smile.

when your eyes settle on the particular cloth wrapped around his torso, you just barely manage to bite back a taunting chuckle.

”a gojo-kesa, huh?” you grin, and geto doesn’t flinch. he doesn’t miss the meaningful glint in your eyes, either. ”you miss him that much?”

”just a coincidence,” is all he answers. smiling, but you think it looks a little stiff.

your grin widens, for a second, before settling back down. a sad transition. you let it go. 

”whatever you say, geto.”

at that, he visibly reacts. barely noticeable, but it’s there — a twitch of his lithe fingers, an unknown something that flickers through the scope of his iris. when he looks at you, a neutral smile is playing at his lips. 

”ah. i take it we’re not on first name basis anymore, then?” he asks, casually, hiding a tinge of something mildly displeased.

a shrug. you pick at what’s left of your ramen with your chopsticks, a little too nauseous to enjoy it. ”call me what you want. i just don’t see suguru when i look at you, y’know?” leaning forward, you begin to pet the kitty by your feet. ”he was sweeter.”

geto smiles. almost a grin, but not quite there. a chuckle spills out from his lips, and something about it irritates you. ”was he?”

”yeah,” you nod. without hesitation. a summer-stained memory blooms behind your eyelids, but you try not to look at it. all you catch is a glimpse of cherry blossoms. ”you just seem bitter.” 

the grin that finds its way onto your lips is self-deprecating. a shadow falls over your face.

”guess we’re in the same boat, huh?”

a hum buzzes in his throat. he casts a meaningful glance towards your hand, scratching behind the cat’s ear. ”oh, i don’t know about that.” his smile grows with the drawl. ”.. you seem just as sweet as always.”

to your grave annoyance, you can’t control the way your face changes at his words. a twitch of your lips gives away your discontentment, and something sour settles on the tip of your tongue.

(your blood begins to boil, beneath your skin.)

geto sighs, suddenly, filling the tense silence between you — a little theatrical. ”ah, but that’s a shame.” he turns to you, soft pout playing at his lips. ”i was hoping i could hear you call me suguru again…”

”— i was hoping you’d come back.”

a beat.

somewhere outside your vision, a crow takes flight into the night sky. swallowed by darkness, melting into that sea of black. no longer perceivable, by you or the world.

”but you never did,” the polystyrene of the plastic cup crinkles beneath your fingers. your eyes look dull. ”so what the fuck do you want, exactly?”

…

”i heard.” geto rests his jaw on the heel of his palm, gazing at you with those piercing eyes. like he’s trying to see inside your brain. ”… about your decision.”

”ah,” a grin splits across the curve of your lips, showing off the white of your teeth. ”of course. that’s what this is about, huh?”

with groggy movements, you throw away your nearly-empty cup of noodles, haphazardly aiming towards a trash can across the street. it bounces off the steel cover, landing on the ground with a soft thud. leftover broth spilling out across the pavement. geto doesn’t bother to hide his amusement, lips twitching upwards before he sends a curse to eat it from the asphalt.

you furrow your brows in embarrassed annoyance.

a moment passes, and something in you knows that he’s waiting. it’s like you can practically sense it, like it’s etched into your bones. the same way you always knew exactly when he would begin to get impatient during your nightly convenience store runs back in high school — after you had spent about ten solid minutes struggling to decide what kind of chips you wanted. 

”what can i say?” you lean back, palms against rough concrete, breathing in the midnight air. ”you inspired me.”

geto tilts his head. smiling. always, always smiling. he smiled at you the day before he massacred that village, too. ”oh?”

with a deep breath, cool air courses through your body. burning your lungs. ”i realized being a sorcerer is completely fucking meaningless,” you exhale through your nose. ”and that trying to change that fact is even more meaningless.” 

a wicked, rueful grin rests on your lips. ”so i left.”

geto doesn’t say anything. you continue, voice dripping with venom.

”i’m a civilian now,” you purr, mocking, a sardonic coo on your tongue. ”does that bother you? feel like killing me?”

…

his smile looks a little off, now. tilted in a direction you don’t want to recognize. you don’t care to examine it further, don’t care to figure out if it might look just a little bit sad, because that’d only hurt more.

so you look away.

a click of his tongue. then he speaks, with that honeyed voice, raspy and husky. almost a groan. ”well, i can’t say i approve.”

he’s looking at you. sharp eyes digging into your skin, dissecting you, a million words he expects you to grasp from that look alone.

”you’re better than them,” he states, matter-of-factly, and you try not to squirm when his eyes trail over your features. ”worlds better.” his voice sounds almost motherly, a twisted concern that makes you cower a little. like he’s scolding you. a crease between his brows.

”i don’t like the thought of you surrounded by these animals.”

a huff pushes past your lips, but it sounds shakier than you’d like it to. you hope he just chalks it up to the chill of the air. then again, when has he ever made anything easy for you?

”what, you got a problem with cats now?” you reach for the little furball licking grilled fish off the concrete, picking it up. cradling it close. ”gonna go on a cat-killing spree?”

an amused exhale. geto narrows his eyes. ”funny,” he hums, but his eyes say you know what i mean.

it takes you a moment to regain control over your breathing. there’s still something tense in your shoulders, and your heart still feels a little like it might jump out of your throat and crawl into his lap. the stray cat slips from your grasp, moving towards geto, curiously sniffing at his robes. he looks at it with no ill intent, and it puts you at ease.

”well, i appreciate the concern, buddy,” you pat his back, trying not to flinch at the contact. trying to appear relaxed. ”but frankly, i don’t give a shit. i actually like my job, unlike literally every single sorcerer on planet earth.”

geto stills.

”.. buddy?” he echoes, ignoring every other bitter word you just graced him with. for some reason, he actually seems visibly bothered. ”i’m buddy now?”

you click your tongue. muttering, tiredly. a little exasperated. ”.. what else would you be?”

and then he smiles, again. only this time, it looks oddly genuine. the same as you remember, framed by cherry blossoms and the fizzle of youth.

his movements are smooth. like he’s completely unguarded, like this situation doesn’t bother him in the slightest. elegant, in the way he leans back, palms on the concrete to support his weight. keeping eye contact with you, all the while.

when he speaks, his voice has a sweet tinge to it. nostalgic, maybe. wistful. if you hear a touch of longing, you choose to ignore it.

”i seem to recall you calling me baby quite a lot,” he hums, and you stiffen. gritting your teeth. eyes darkening, but he continues. ”what else was there? angel, i think… it was sweet.”

then he’s leaning forward. scratching the cat under its chin, gently. ”ironic, though.”

an inhale. then, an exhale. they’re a little shaky, a little meek, but at least they make the lump in your throat feel less like it’s blocking your windpipe. air fills your lungs, but it tastes like nothing at all. 

something like sorrow simmers in your eyes. or maybe more like fatigue. god, you really want to cry.

(you wonder if he gets some sickening satisfaction out of seeing you like this, out of breaking you. maybe it just makes him feel rotten. you don’t know what you’d prefer.)

”suguru,” you murmur, at last. voice dripping with exhaustion. defeated, the sigh that flows from your lips. ”why did you come here?”

…

”join me.”

the words spill out into the open air, slicing the silence in half. heavy. a request, not a question. against your better judgement, you turn your head to meet his gaze.

”we could use you,” he says, and there’s hope in those keen eyes. he maintains his distance, but for some reason you still feel like prey being sized up by a predator. like he’s weighing your value.

a chuckle slips from your lips, but there’s no humour to it. ”use me…” you echo, a tired murmur under your breath. ”you're just straight up admitting it, huh? kinda refreshing.”

”that’s not what i meant.”

he inches closer. slowly, as if trying not to scare you. reaching out, to brush through your bangs, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. tangling them between your locks, inserting himself into your space. testing the waters. 

you don’t look at him, completely still. barely breathing. like a wounded animal.

”i want you there,” he says, and it comes out almost as a whisper. ”with us.”

unable to resist the temptation, you indulge in a single brief glance his way. his eyes look warm, and his lips look soft as they part.

”with me.” 

there’s a devotion to his voice when he continues, one he’s always had. one you thought you’d always be able to trust. ”i’ll create a world where you can be happy,” he vows. ”i swear it.”

a moment passes.

(you swallow thickly. it takes everything you have not to burst into tears. when you remember how he brushed you off, back then, it gets a little easier. when you remember all the skipped meals.)

”.. like you give a damn.”

geto smiles. you loathe how soft it looks, how similar it is to the one suguru always had. when you used to eat your ramen too quickly and started choking on it, and he brought a palm to your upper back, patting it gently. he’d chuckle, and tell you to slow down, and the softness of his smile would almost be enough to distract you from the amusement in his eyes. 

”my love.”

you flinch. breath drawing back at the base of your throat, heart screeching to a halt, and some part of you emerges; the shy, sweet kid you used to be. hanging on to his every world. like he was your sun, your guiding light. back when that purr of my love had you blushing furiously, not choking back a string of curses.

it’s sudden, and you can’t react the way you want to. you want to kill him for calling you that. for thinking he has any right to call you his, anymore.

but that sweet, naive, innocent little kid still exists. even if you want to pretend otherwise. it’s there, somewhere, that part of you — peeking out from behind the curtain. and it stops you from saying anything that might hurt him.

(it’s so hard to hate him when he calls you that.)

if geto notices your inner turmoil — he must — then he doesn’t mention it. you don’t say anything, but you hope the amused, harsh exhale you partake in is signal enough for him to cut it off. now.

yet he continues. there’s love in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. if he’s trying not to hurt you he’s doing an awful job.

”… i never stopped thinking of you,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it. ”not once. i left for you, not just for myself.”

and, despite every part of your being resisting it, a sweetness settles on your tongue. so sweet it’s sickening; the thought that maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe he really has been thinking of you. maybe you’re more to him than just a means to meet an end, or a memory yet to be buried.

geto looks at the moon. bathed in moonlight, he looks a little like a god. like something reverent. his voice is honeyed. low, like a secret.

”this world doesn't deserve you.”

silence.

a subtle anger trickles through your veins, a kind of fury, subdued, carefully tucked away. sparking to life inside the depths of your eyes when you look at him. bitter, given everything. but your voice still comes out sounding something like a plea.

”and you think you do?”

another smile. this time, it looks a little sad. remorseful, maybe. ”… let me prove myself.”

his touch burns. the pads of his fingers against your cold skin, cupping your cheek. slithering down to grasp your hand. and you’re pliant, unable to react. just sitting with that aching hollow feeling in your chest.

”i wasn’t worthy, back then,” he hums, bringing your hand to his lips. ”but now…”

a kiss to your knuckle. featherlight. reverent. you try not to shiver, but when he says your name, dragging each syllable out, like they belong on his tongue —

a chill runs down your spine.

when he speaks, you feel his warm breath on your skin. it’s dizzying. ”i’m not the same suguru you once knew,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. and devotion, frighteningly sincere. ”unlike him — i’ll never let you go.”

what a twisted desire. he wants to take you with him, drag you down to hell. the suguru you knew wouldn’t put you through that. but maybe you’re even more twisted, for wishing he had; for wishing he had taken you with him, ten years ago, instead of leaving without a single goodbye.

geto’s voice is soft. coaxing, like he's handling a frightened mouse. join me, he whispers, and you think of eve. when you look at his mouth you think you see serpents’ teeth behind his lips.

(you're almost sure he notices it. and you're almost sure his smile widens, lips curling up, as if preparing to open his maw and swallow you whole.)

a sickening sense of resignation roots itself somewhere in your gut. 

you pull your hand away, and he lets you. the loss of warmth hits you like a freight train, but you aren’t sure you could think clearly with his skin on yours. when you part your lips to speak, only air comes out, just barely forming a sentence. like there are no more words to say. like the world stopped spinning around you both a lifetime ago.

”i don't love you.”

…

for just a second, his smile falters. 

”no?” he hums, and you wish it didn’t hurt so bad to see him hurt. his eyes carry a kind of patience, something gentle. ”it’s fine… these things take time.”

a bitter chuckle. ”like you’d know anything about waiting,” you spit, and it comes out sounding venomous. a phantom ache sprouts in the spot where his lips touched your skin.

geto closes his eyes.

”you don't need to love me,” he says, finally. kind. you hate that he still sounds so kind. so understanding, like nothing you do could be wrong in his eyes. ”as long as you're beside me, that's enough.” 

he turns to look at you, and his smile looks very real, for a moment. impossibly fond. ”i have two daughters. i’ve told them about you,” he smiles. ”my family… you’d like them. i know they’d like you.”

dark clouds cover the moon, suddenly, and a shadow falls across you both. illuminated only by the streetlight. in the distance, you hear a car whooshing by.

”don’t stay at the bottom,” he beckons, and your name slips from his lips again. soft, his tongue bending around the vowels. coaxing. stirring your heartstrings like a puppeteer.

then he’s standing up, dusting off his robes, large hands smoothing down the fabric. turning around, towering over you; obscuring everything else. all you see is him, under the glow of the lamp post. a halo of artificial light.

”come. let me show you the world we can create.”

he gives you a sweet smile, two abysses gazing into you. the promise of something twisted, new, forbidden. you think of red skin and yellow flesh; the bite of sin.

and for a second, you see it. the world. a world where laughter comes from the bottom of your gut, and the trees are always ripe for picking, red apples hanging from the branches like glowing rubies. a world where sweetened fruit never give way to rot.

paradise.

geto stretches a hand out towards you. fingers unfurling, one by one, like a blooming camellia. close, right there in front of you, so close that you’re tempted to take his hand in yours, let him carry you away. burn everything else to the ground. 

(you think of the serpent. you think of god.

only one of them banished eve.)

”so,” he smiles. ”what do you say?”

[frummpets]

GET PUFFY!!!!

outfit by @poorly-drawn-mdzs from this poll

✦ TWITTER VERSION

[nateezfics]

thought about this hongjoong from the m countdown paris, and how hot he looked in this fit with the glasses…and immediately thought of that one kdrama kiss scene —

[tsunael]

you look ridiculous