It isn't a constant berating reminder in his mind, but the realization is there, in the very back; it isn't a tortured scream, but a friendly whisper, making sure he'll never quite forget. This life is a lie, try as hard as he may, this empathy, this compassion, this lackadaisical persona makes him nothing more than an actor; Shibuya is just his stage. Just over a decade has passed but all the time in the world won't convince him that this change is genuine, that he isn't a fake, that he's simply changed for the better; turned a new leaf, a new chapter in his book. No, to him, it'll always be a lie. Oh how he wishes it were true, though, if only just for her.
In comparison to his eleven years, her three seems like a blink to him. A quick memory that'll flash over the eye of his mind in the seconds before his inevitable Erasure; it'll mix with so many others, he fears she won't be distinguishable in that moment. As though that very moment hung threatening in the air, his arms tighten around her, perhaps if he holds her tight enough, she'll hear his thoughts. The fear passes quickly, he's a logical man who realizes they're here, they're safe, for now. To be rid of the heaviness in his mind, he leans down & presses a soft kiss to her temple; he feels her sigh against his skin before her lips press to his collar bone.
It's a feeling he'll never quite get used to; hot breaths that almost sear their frozen skin, still hearts in breathing chests. Beneath these realities that dimly shock him each time he touches her is the happiness he garners from being like this with her. Reality is set aside for these moments they lie together, for him at least. He'll never know if she feels the same, if she doesn't feel pressed for time in these bubbles, if she isn't counting the seconds until they have to live in this death.
Sentimentality is the easiest emotion to fake; pretty words on his silver tongue had always come easily, but they've always been lies to get what he wants. Curiosity is the beginning of sentimentality, a want to know how someone feels, what someone is thinking. Perhaps if he starts there, the words won't taste so bitter. Fingertips trace along her back gently with this thought, a plan etching in his mind; nothing is ever spontaneous for him, not even the whispered words that seem almost too heavy for this dark room.
"Hey, Zuzu?"
She hums her acknowledgment softly, as though she means to keep this bubble of a moment intact; if they speak too loudly, life will hear them.
"Are you happy?"
He can feel the moment slipping through his fingers; he can feel the shift in her lowered guard, her wall being raised once again as she pulls away to look accusingly up at him. His fingertips go still on her skin, the inevitable rejection of his sentimentality imminent.
"Duh. Why wouldn't I be?"
She snorts in distaste, ignorant to his thought process. He can tell she wants to pull away completely, to leave this moment in the past & continue with their day. Perhaps if his mind wasn't so full, he'd let her. His eyes seem empty in a way, his lips an unfamiliar line as he stares curiously down at her.
"Not just right now. I mean over all. As a Reaper. In this existence."
Her face hardens at his words; her nose scrunches & brows furrow, eyes narrowing. She can tell he's up to something, he never expresses his thoughts without an agenda. Not wanting to know what her partner has planned, she turns away. Though he's happy she didn't simply stand up & walk away. His arms loosen for her movement but quickly tighten around her once again, his head leaning down to press his lips to her neck. Long, silent moments pass with his breathing against her skin before he whispers another question.
"Doesn't it make you sad?"
He can almost hear the groan of resentment she represses, her arms crossing over her chest in a defensive gesture. He's clueless as to why, if she hates these questions so much, she doesn't just leave. Her voice isn't nearly as quiet or thoughtful as his is; it's bitter & sarcastic, during any other moment, it'd be normal, but in this moment, it causes his stomach to start sinking.
"You ask me if I'm happy, I say yes. Then you ask me if I'm sad? What the hell is your logic right now, Kariya?"
His lips curve in a dim, sad smile against her skin; there's a soft chuckle in the base of his throat that'll soon escape. She has a point, he thinks musingly, his fingertips beginning to trace her stomach. Perhaps he takes too long to continue, maybe the silence drags on too long but the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach is foreboding; it tells of her answer to the questions he hasn't asked yet. He's a brave man, he's looked Erasure in the face countless times & laughed, but there's nothing quite as terrifying as having something to lose. When he finally does continue, his moving lips drag along her neck, as though to soften his words, to fully articulate that he means no harm; to portray fully his curiosity.
"Doesn't it make you sad... To think we'll never be married. Never have children. Never grow old together."
Her body stiffens throughout his words; his lips end on her skin right before her ear. She's the easiest thing in his life to predict, so he counts the seconds before she goes to roughly pull away & stand up. Against his better judgement, he lets her. With this the moment falls through his fingers. He sighs & rolls onto his back, arms bending behind his head as he listens to the familiar sounds of her quickly gathering her clothing; again he counts the seconds until the bathroom door slams behind her.