[there are times for reassuring words and times for silence, to acknowledge how hard it is to voice these things at all. she doesn't push - she meets him where he is, with the way words sometimes feel like swallowing embers, scorching on the way down. you can't say them all - nor would you push to find them. in Hakagemachi, she'd kept herself so busy to avoid the shaking, crushing sensation of trying to sort out the now. running and running and running, but never slowing down. if she kept running, she'd not have to look at everything behind.
■■■■■ is dead. she has to be. the her now is her murderer, and that death was never mourned, nor regretted. never was even when Hibiki came into the picture, melded now so tightly that separation is impossible. ■■■■■ is dead. that name, that woman, she'll never be her again.
feathers whisper as they move, as one of her wings extends to lay across his shoulders, the closest thing she can get to an embrace without moving her hands away.]
[ It is hard to say, and her understanding silence helps cool the heat of it. So he says a little more, because he can and because it hurts and most of the time it hurts worse because he's standing in a crowd of people who look at him like he's just another guy when he's actually tatters. ]
I was... fearless an' stupid. I had Saejima, nothin' could stop us... we were gonna climb all th'way to the top, or die tryin'. Now he's sittin' in jail for twenty-five years an' I'm... banished. Banished all th'way to Hell.
[ He does breathe, a big shaking inhale. ]
Everybody keeps tellin' me I can earn somethin' back. If I just put my head down an' work hard enough for 'em. They're all lyin' to me. There's no goin' back.
[here, he doesn't have to be intact. doesn't have to sew himself up with lies and cigarettes to get through, he can be tattered and piecemeal and hidden under her wings so no one he doesn't want to see it will. this information is trust, she knows, so she puts it in the space of her heart where things don't get out, to keep it true.
to only be able to hope that someone you care for is alright. to be so far removed there's nothing to link you. and then the same promise, which might have rung true in the last world but loses its shine now. it's a lot to take in, to hold. Emily can't lie to him and say this time is different without proof of that. there's no promises, only wishes. and wishes didn't give you something to keep warm enough at night with.
when she does finally speak, her voice is soft enough that it doesn't cut harshly through the quiet.]
...If you had your choice of it, what would you do? What do you want?
[what, then, becomes the future, when the supposed image is nothing more than a large illusion? what can he make of it?
whatever he chooses, she'll help how she can. even if that's just sitting beside him while he tries to untangle the mire in his head.]
[ He makes a soft noise. There's nothing he wants. There are only the obligations that he has. The people he's betrayed and let down. Saejima he can accept, in a certain way. His kyodai had indeed done the crime and knew he would be jailed, and Majima will be in Hell in penance for not being there with him. That part feels right. He'll work his contract to save Makoto.
What else is there besides just waiting to die. He has always been ready to die, that's the gokudo. When he was stupid and fearless, he at least wanted to die in infamy. He doesn't feel that way now.
So he just doesn't answer her. There's nothing and his silence is heavy, telling. ]
[she lets the silence descend on them, soft as snow, her wing around his shoulders. and once it's stretched, and it's clear nothing else is forthcoming, she takes a deep breath, slow and quiet.]
When the answer comes to you, I'll be happy to know it, and to help you achieve it. No matter how long it takes.
[lifting their joined hands, she kisses the back of his, like sealing a vow. the promise of patience, of growing. of life, stubborn as it is, persisting. there's not nothing. there is a way out - even in Hell, she has to cling to it, or nothing will matter, when the relief of being out of the labyrinth fades.
for now, they have today, and the small mercy that nothing is trying to kill them.]
[ He leans in close to her cheek, wanting to kiss her for real as her lips leaves his hand. A slow motion, gentle and searching. He's not surprised by her gesture, they had extended the same to her when she expressed her guilt and hurt to them. But he is touched by it every time, that someone will accept such a worthless heap of wounds; tortured and broken. ]
[for all he thinks so little of himself, she still sees him as a person, not fully his mistakes and his injuries of all sorts. it doesn't mean he isn't Goro - whoever that person ends up being, leaving his own mark on the world as much as it does him. if he can forgive her for the highest crime that healing hands can do, how couldn't she accept him, scars and all? how could she judge? kissing him back, Emily doesn't hurry it along - they'll take as much time as they need, and she savors it for what it is on its own.]
[ He still squeezes her hand between them, holding on to her because she's an anchor where a lot of other comfort has been stripped away. ]
Love ya, Em.
[ Promised with such gentleness. He does his best to pretend otherwise, but he's so soft and passionate inside. He never deserved what was done to him and it didn't really change that part of him either. Makoto woke it back up, and now it thrives to show tenderness to others. He extracts a hand and cups as hand along her ear as he kisses her. ]
[the word's enough to make her still, but not in the sense of rejection. just surprise, that he'd be the first to say it - to give it life, and let it stand. it warms her, gives her happiness that's true and lasts. thinking back on this will be enough to keep her smiling whenever she does.
they kiss, and when Emily can stand to pull back a little to reply, her voice is hushed enough that the words will only be for him, not even the rest of the room.]
...and I love you, Goro.
[the wing that's been encircling him brushes his back, the same way an embrace might tighten that much more. surely, he knows, but it's another thing to say it aloud.]
[ His breath stutters a little. It's one thing for him to say it, another thing for it to be returned. He feels so entirely unworthy of it that it almost stings with its intensity. He's missed being loved. Missed Saejima and Yasuko so much that it makes him ill.
He brings her closer to him, touching her wings with slow ruffling fingers. He's looked it up, about the wings, each feather has its own set of nerves and they're actually quite sensitive when you run your fingers through them. Not as chaste of a gesture as it seems. ]
[this close, he can hear her intake of breath, and the sensation catches her a little off guard. she's been the only one to touch her own wings, for preening and care, and she hadn't expected how immediate the difference would be in another way, under someone else's hands. still, she likes it, almost too much so.]
Yes. It's fine.
[she doesn't think he'd ask if he wasn't aware of what he was doing, but she'd like to give him permission to continue. one hand comes to rest on his chest, eyes flicking up to make sure that this is alright. Emily knows enough to check in, to pay attention to his cues, and if something is amiss, she'll back down.]
[ He nods quietly at the unspoken question. What really gets in his head are hands pawing at him, touches to his face, hands in his hair. He'd let Izo put his hands in his hair while he was drugged and he's still not quite sure how he feels. Does it show him that nothing will happen? Or does it highlight the uncomfortable truth that he wants some of the things he fears because he was manipulated and groomed for it.
Maybe he should cut his hair, but he has this feeling like he doesn't want to until Saejima is out of jail. If that's on hold indefinitely, then he'll just have to wear it long. His fingers continue to stir distractedly before his good eye flicks back up. ]
This place scares me, yanno. Like it's too normal t'be true.
[ Like the ugly shit is waiting just out of sight for him to get too comfortable. Like Shimano is going to walk down the street one day and sneer at him. ]
Edited (whitespace my nemesis) 2022-03-28 23:31 (UTC)
[she can avoid the things that'll unnerve him, make anything she touches obvious, known instead of just grabbing. all she needs is to put a little thought into it, and it'll be fine.
Emily leans in a little closer, to more securely tuck herself against him. at this point, she's practically in his lap, though that said, she makes herself focus on his words instead of getting too wrapped up in sensation. answers first and foremost.]
It's the calm before the storm. It can't hide its true colors forever.
[this can't be hell, and be devoid of what might make it somewhere you don't want to be. it can't simply be a future city with devils like what they know. hell is somewhere darker, and deeper. it's this, or they're just both too ready for worse to accept anything better.]
And when it does, we'll adapt.
[we. not him left to flounder and find his footing on his own. he has a fallback now - he's not left to smoke in his room alone, waiting for the next sunrise.]
[ He scoops her to rest of the way across his legs, hand resting lightly across her shins as he rests his nose against her temple. He's adapted a lot. Every time, he's reconfigured himself to suit the situation: learned how to calmly accept torture, learned how to duck his head and mouth 'Yes, Sagawa-han', learned how to be Lord of the Night and run the cabaret club, learned how to accept the snake. The rules keep changing and now they want him to just quietly return to the yakuza he hasn't been in years? He feels like he's holding handfuls of broken stained glass. He could make anything he wants out of them, except the original picture.
He doesn't know who he is or what he wants; aside from Izo and Emily. He wants them. He toys with her stockings before turning in and kissing her more deeply. Knowing that they need him and rely on him is the only anchor in the world and all he wants is to please them and make their worlds better. ]
[kissing him back feels as easy as breathing, hands resting on his shoulders, staying near, letting him guide it for the sake of it all being choice. she wants him strongly enough to burn with it - keeps it all tidily locked up and organized with the rest of herself until there's a reason to show it, but it's true. no reluctance, no hesitation that isn't born from the newness of it all.
the difference between then and now, for all of them, holding their shattered pieces, is that they don't have to do it on their own. maybe they'll never make a coherent picture on their own, but with the others, with pieces that lie next to each other, they could make a different image altogether. and that, regardless of it being hell, is a blessing.]
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no subject
■■■■■ is dead. she has to be. the her now is her murderer, and that death was never mourned, nor regretted. never was even when Hibiki came into the picture, melded now so tightly that separation is impossible. ■■■■■ is dead. that name, that woman, she'll never be her again.
feathers whisper as they move, as one of her wings extends to lay across his shoulders, the closest thing she can get to an embrace without moving her hands away.]
no subject
I was... fearless an' stupid. I had Saejima, nothin' could stop us... we were gonna climb all th'way to the top, or die tryin'. Now he's sittin' in jail for twenty-five years an' I'm... banished. Banished all th'way to Hell.
[ He does breathe, a big shaking inhale. ]
Everybody keeps tellin' me I can earn somethin' back. If I just put my head down an' work hard enough for 'em. They're all lyin' to me. There's no goin' back.
no subject
to only be able to hope that someone you care for is alright. to be so far removed there's nothing to link you. and then the same promise, which might have rung true in the last world but loses its shine now. it's a lot to take in, to hold. Emily can't lie to him and say this time is different without proof of that. there's no promises, only wishes. and wishes didn't give you something to keep warm enough at night with.
when she does finally speak, her voice is soft enough that it doesn't cut harshly through the quiet.]
...If you had your choice of it, what would you do? What do you want?
[what, then, becomes the future, when the supposed image is nothing more than a large illusion? what can he make of it?
whatever he chooses, she'll help how she can. even if that's just sitting beside him while he tries to untangle the mire in his head.]
no subject
What else is there besides just waiting to die. He has always been ready to die, that's the gokudo. When he was stupid and fearless, he at least wanted to die in infamy. He doesn't feel that way now.
So he just doesn't answer her. There's nothing and his silence is heavy, telling. ]
no subject
When the answer comes to you, I'll be happy to know it, and to help you achieve it. No matter how long it takes.
[lifting their joined hands, she kisses the back of his, like sealing a vow. the promise of patience, of growing. of life, stubborn as it is, persisting. there's not nothing. there is a way out - even in Hell, she has to cling to it, or nothing will matter, when the relief of being out of the labyrinth fades.
for now, they have today, and the small mercy that nothing is trying to kill them.]
no subject
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Love ya, Em.
[ Promised with such gentleness. He does his best to pretend otherwise, but he's so soft and passionate inside. He never deserved what was done to him and it didn't really change that part of him either. Makoto woke it back up, and now it thrives to show tenderness to others. He extracts a hand and cups as hand along her ear as he kisses her. ]
no subject
they kiss, and when Emily can stand to pull back a little to reply, her voice is hushed enough that the words will only be for him, not even the rest of the room.]
...and I love you, Goro.
[the wing that's been encircling him brushes his back, the same way an embrace might tighten that much more. surely, he knows, but it's another thing to say it aloud.]
no subject
He brings her closer to him, touching her wings with slow ruffling fingers. He's looked it up, about the wings, each feather has its own set of nerves and they're actually quite sensitive when you run your fingers through them. Not as chaste of a gesture as it seems. ]
That all right?
no subject
Yes. It's fine.
[she doesn't think he'd ask if he wasn't aware of what he was doing, but she'd like to give him permission to continue. one hand comes to rest on his chest, eyes flicking up to make sure that this is alright. Emily knows enough to check in, to pay attention to his cues, and if something is amiss, she'll back down.]
no subject
Maybe he should cut his hair, but he has this feeling like he doesn't want to until Saejima is out of jail. If that's on hold indefinitely, then he'll just have to wear it long. His fingers continue to stir distractedly before his good eye flicks back up. ]
This place scares me, yanno. Like it's too normal t'be true.
[ Like the ugly shit is waiting just out of sight for him to get too comfortable. Like Shimano is going to walk down the street one day and sneer at him. ]
no subject
Emily leans in a little closer, to more securely tuck herself against him. at this point, she's practically in his lap, though that said, she makes herself focus on his words instead of getting too wrapped up in sensation. answers first and foremost.]
It's the calm before the storm. It can't hide its true colors forever.
[this can't be hell, and be devoid of what might make it somewhere you don't want to be. it can't simply be a future city with devils like what they know. hell is somewhere darker, and deeper. it's this, or they're just both too ready for worse to accept anything better.]
And when it does, we'll adapt.
[we. not him left to flounder and find his footing on his own. he has a fallback now - he's not left to smoke in his room alone, waiting for the next sunrise.]
no subject
He doesn't know who he is or what he wants; aside from Izo and Emily. He wants them. He toys with her stockings before turning in and kissing her more deeply. Knowing that they need him and rely on him is the only anchor in the world and all he wants is to please them and make their worlds better. ]
no subject
the difference between then and now, for all of them, holding their shattered pieces, is that they don't have to do it on their own. maybe they'll never make a coherent picture on their own, but with the others, with pieces that lie next to each other, they could make a different image altogether. and that, regardless of it being hell, is a blessing.]