[It hurts. Aki's expression, the tone of his voice hit with the force of one of his heavyweight punches, right in his gut.
Shinjiro of all people understands just how little intentions truly matter in the scheme of things, and it's plain to see in this moment the damage his choices have done to his friend, despite all that he'd hoped his distancing could dull the pain, ease his inevitable passing. Shinjiro still doesn't think he could've done any of it differently, doesn't know what he'd be doing now if the Dark Hour was still here, if his evoker even worked, but the old conversations with Don ring in his ears, nagging guilt at the back of his mind that all he'd really done was leave Aki to bleed free for years, with no telling how long it'd take those wounds to even scar after he was gone, let alone heal.
...It's cruel, he thinks, for Aki to have to be here. Shinjiro still struggles most days not to resent that he is alive, to even get out of bed and choose to go about some semblance of a daily routine. He can already see in his friend's eyes the desperate hope that this is some manner of miracle and he can rebuild a new life in place of the one cut short in Iwatodai. He will force his friend grieve him twice over, and every day in between as Aki waits for the other shoe to drop. Can't I be happy that you're here, Aki says, and all Shinjiro can think is I'm sorry. He's happy, Aki says, yet he's going to hurt so much for Shinjiro being here. It would be easier by far if he weren't.
He closes his eyes. There's a hitch in his breathing and Shinjiro fights it, slow careful inhale-exhales like Kitsuragi showed him months ago. (He's needed the trick more often than he cares to admit)
There's no answer for a longer time than comfortable, but eventually, Shinji meets his eyes and doesn't waver, tone firm but not cold, even as he's unsure if that's wise.]
...Aki. Don't do this to yourself. How long I've got here ain't in my hands to start with, but more than that...this ain't a place for someone to make a life. The more you look at it like some great second chance for me, the harder it's gonna be for you to wanna tear it apart and get back home.
[He breathes, the edge of it is ragged with an emotion he can't name. Aki deserves better than this, than him. He really is sorry.]
Look, I ain't...sayin' not to enjoy it, or whatever. Just...don't look at it as somethin' more than it is, alright? S'like you said...you got me for right now.
no subject
Shinjiro of all people understands just how little intentions truly matter in the scheme of things, and it's plain to see in this moment the damage his choices have done to his friend, despite all that he'd hoped his distancing could dull the pain, ease his inevitable passing. Shinjiro still doesn't think he could've done any of it differently, doesn't know what he'd be doing now if the Dark Hour was still here, if his evoker even worked, but the old conversations with Don ring in his ears, nagging guilt at the back of his mind that all he'd really done was leave Aki to bleed free for years, with no telling how long it'd take those wounds to even scar after he was gone, let alone heal.
...It's cruel, he thinks, for Aki to have to be here. Shinjiro still struggles most days not to resent that he is alive, to even get out of bed and choose to go about some semblance of a daily routine. He can already see in his friend's eyes the desperate hope that this is some manner of miracle and he can rebuild a new life in place of the one cut short in Iwatodai. He will force his friend grieve him twice over, and every day in between as Aki waits for the other shoe to drop. Can't I be happy that you're here, Aki says, and all Shinjiro can think is I'm sorry. He's happy, Aki says, yet he's going to hurt so much for Shinjiro being here. It would be easier by far if he weren't.
He closes his eyes. There's a hitch in his breathing and Shinjiro fights it, slow careful inhale-exhales like Kitsuragi showed him months ago. (He's needed the trick more often than he cares to admit)
There's no answer for a longer time than comfortable, but eventually, Shinji meets his eyes and doesn't waver, tone firm but not cold, even as he's unsure if that's wise.]
...Aki. Don't do this to yourself. How long I've got here ain't in my hands to start with, but more than that...this ain't a place for someone to make a life. The more you look at it like some great second chance for me, the harder it's gonna be for you to wanna tear it apart and get back home.
[He breathes, the edge of it is ragged with an emotion he can't name. Aki deserves better than this, than him. He really is sorry.]
Look, I ain't...sayin' not to enjoy it, or whatever. Just...don't look at it as somethin' more than it is, alright? S'like you said...you got me for right now.