Summary: Yukio has reasons. Good ones. They've only ever been excuses. Rin goes one step forward, one fall back.
Notes: Me, running on no sleep like, yeah this all checks out lmao I blitzed thru these first 8 chs for nano and I've been lightly editing them before posting but now I'm like there's probly something I'm missing and it's gonna hit me later . It was hard enough waiting the month to post instead of just dropping everything as I wrote it XD
Song of the chapter: Jimmy, He Whispers by Manchester Orchestra
When Yukio walked into class that day, it was with a level of vindictiveness he hadn't known himself capable of.
Bloody dreams and ash so thick it had been all he could do to take a breath had filled his night but couldn't touch him here, not when the door opened and in came the softly smiling professor who somehow, miraculously, kept them at bay.
The smile Yukio sent down to the front of the room lacked any of the tightness so many of his others did, and the sensation threw him, not understanding the strangeness of it. Then he realized he was truly at ease and his lips stretched to show some of the vicious joy at his newfound sanctuary from the shadows.
His smile wasn't something he should be wearing in public, though, not if he wanted his classmates to keep thinking of him as a normal, sane, human being.
If he could have this moment of peace, he thought he might one day reach a place where he could be that person.
When the time came for his next class, Yukio's contentment thinned as he prepared to put his walls back up. But, a plan formed as he watched Santoka waving other students out. He could make up some reason and extend his time. His grades wouldn't excuse him needing help after hours, but he could talk about the subject material in more depth, pretend he was considering career paths and wanted to know more about the subject than the surface-level knowledge needed to pass the class.
Yes, that would work. Yukio settled further with his plan solidified and waited.
"Of course! I'd be delighted," Santoka said with a voice that spoke of pleasant surprise. He blinked behind his glasses at Yukio's request and they made their way to his office.
"You're very bright," Santoka said as he let Yukio into the room and gestured for him to sit. "You more than likely could get into any position you set your mind to."
"Thank you, sir," Yukio said, scanning the room while Santoka moved to prepare tea for them, the generosity taking him aback at its simple kindness.
Sunlight put a faint glow on the room and gave it a warmth that touched every object. A photo frame turned away from Yukio that may have been someone related to Santoka or a partner, a plant on the window sill with delicate flowers, several other odds and ends that all added to the calm.
"Your family must be proud," Santoka said and set the tea in front of Yukio, bringing him out of his contemplation of the office. "Are you the first to go to school? Or do you have siblings?"
In his chest, a rabbiting pulse began and Yukio had to remind himself that Santoka had no way of knowing just why his questions would have such an effect. He drank some of the tea, using the heat to steady himself as he responded.
"Ah, yes, sir, they're very proud-" so, so proud, and loving, and-"and I have a brother, older, though only by a few minutes."
The last part he had to stop himself from muttering, hiding a frown with another drink because he shouldn't feel like he could let this veritable stranger have that glance behind his masks like that. And yet…
"Oh?" Santoka cocked his head. "Twins? Is he also at this university?"
A laugh almost barked past Yukio's lips, cruel and something he would never reveal to a single soul because that would unravel everything. He smiled, softening the laugh into one that wouldn't hurt, even if the one it was aimed at wasn't even there and would never hear it, and it came out gentle.
"No, he was never one for school, but he's an amazing cook and is working his way into the restaurant industry, so it's working out for him."
There. That was the truth, and not Yukio's truth. He could see it immediately had the effect he'd intended, Santoka commenting on how nice it was to see hard-working kids, and he must be proud of his brother, too.
Yukio was. And he'd celebrated Rin getting a job at that restaurant with a family meal at home so Rin could display his formidable skills that had earned his position. His dreams had been of charcoaled skin that night and a voice whispering words he couldn't understand in his ears while Rin snored away in his old bunk bed, oblivious.
"Are you ok, Mr. Okumura?" Santoka's worry had him shaking his head, and taking himself from the momentary lapse into memories as he nodded.
"And you, sir?" Yukio said to get the conversation away from himself. "Do you have any family?"
The photo on his desk wound up flipped so Yukio saw a woman some years older than himself, maybe, wearing a slight smile on her face.
"My niece," Santoka said with clear happiness in his voice. "A brilliant woman and the best thing that my family ever gave to me."
No others? Yukio began to ask, only for Santoka to shake his head and change the subject.
"Well, let's get to the reason you're here."
He let himself give the fabricated reason, finding it was less a lie than it might have been. The extra time after class left Yukio with a sense of bitter victory. He had this to himself now. The shadows couldn't seem to reach him while he was in Santoka's company, and he didn't know why, but at the very least, the longer he spent around him, the more he could try to uncover whatever it was.
If he had enough days like these, days of silence all to himself, where he could exist like a normal person without having to hurt Rin and Yuri and Shiro to save what part of himself was his own, then, maybe those lunches with Rin could happen.
Maybe, Yukio, thought as he entered his usual hell and left the sanctuary with its warm tea and soft conversation, he could have his lunches with Rin again.
Not yet. Not when it was still his private moment of solitude, somewhere for himself and not his family to intrude on with all of their well-meaning exuberance.
But eventually. When he was stronger.
Rin's dreams were blissfully empty and his body numbed, letting him ignore the bruises he'd collected the day before with the embrace of sleep.
A rattle began at the window to his kitchen and his next breath exhaled visible in the air. Rin vaguely felt his brows furrow as he came out of sleep, body shivering on the floor. Floor?
Wait, why was he on the floor?
The window shattered and ripped Rin from sleep as he shouted, pelted by a rain of glass blown in by the wind.
His eyes shot open and stared, uncomprehending for a moment, at the floor he'd scrabbled from. At his shoes he'd slept in, the clothes he'd worn to work the day before, the line of salt had scattered by the gust from his now ruined window.
Howling in his ears and icy fingers pressing to his shoulders sent him wrenching forward to escape the return of the demon that must be haunting him–he wouldn't say ghost, or spirit, or anything that would let people think that this thing was less than a complete menace to him and not the gentle entities his mom said made up the dead!
"What the hell do you want?" he screamed back, glaring at nothing as he stumbled towards the cabinets again. If he was loud enough, maybe he could intimidate the damn thing into silence.
"Leave my kitchen alone, dammit!" he added, that hysterical feeling growing in his body again when it just ended with his poor chair toppled to the floor as if the ghost was throwing it to make a point.
He scrambled inside the pantry, setting herbs down that usually went into his food, and fighting through a bitter chill like the dead of winter to remember the pieces of actual, concrete ways to deal with spirits he'd picked up from his mom's therapy sessions she had with grieving people coming for her readings.
"You can trash the rest of my place," Rin thought he might be ranting at that point as his fingers shook over some sage and a lighter he'd found. "You can haunt my dreams and scream at me like a goddamn siren all day long–hell, you can spit blood all over the restaurant."
"I don't care!" Rin jerked around with the leaf held like a weapon, letting it burn in the air.
"But don't touch my kitchen," he finished in a hiss.
Was it his imagination or was the screaming lesser?
Had it worked?
Rin searched the room in a slow scan, flicking a tongue to his lips and tasting the cold sweat drying uncomfortably there and preparing to duck if something else got flung at his head.
The screams had faded, though it took him a bit before he realized he listened to the ringing in his ears and not a banshee.
"What's your problem anyway," he said somewhat uselessly before shaking his head. He'd heard his mom ask tons of times and she definitely said it much more politely. Not that his demonic spirit was in any way or shape as behaved like the ones he was suspecting his mom actually dealt with now.
"Er, I mean, is there something keeping you here?" He searched his brain for what else he was supposed to ask. "Is there a reason you're here?"
That wasn't quite right. He was pretty sure there was more to say and nicer ways to put it, but Rin could barely think with the adrenaline shooting through his veins. An attack was coming at any moment. No way was this ghost going to get its point across without some kind of violence enacted towards Rin.
Rattling pulled his body taut and Rin flinched, turning in a sharp motion towards the entryway to the living room where the sound emanated from.
What the hell?
Slowly, he made his way from the kitchen, trying his best to avoid the invisible shards of glass all over the floor he hoped he survived long enough to clean. The irony of the mystery of his death by invisible specter would be fun to puzzle out, at least.
His mom wouldn't appreciate that humor. Luckily, she wouldn't know, not unless Rin happened to come back as a ghost too, which he was now discovering to be a real possibility.
Humor got him through the entryway and into the dark of his living room, Rin suddenly very aware that the only light source came from the flame in his hand and the faintly smoking ends of the sage, which was rapidly approaching the end of the leaf.
Shit. He should have grabbed more. Stupid!
"Can you tell me why you're here?" There, that was polite and to the point. Definitely not scream-inducing or a reason to try suffocating him again.
Please not again.
The rattling increased, like something small tapping against some wooden object.
Rin thought he caught movement in the dark, haloed by the faint light from the window. It looked like…
It stopped and silence fell. Rin held his breath, eyes wide and trying to adjust to the darkness. The object lifted just as he began to move to dodge.
Instead of shooting at his skull with enough force to incapacitate him like before, the object knocked off the windowsill, sliding along the floor until it came into the weak circle of his flame and Rin blinked, his gasp cutting off as he saw what it was.
"My family pictures?" he muttered before he could say something stupid like, "That's not using your words!" Or any of the other barely coherent things he wanted to scream. The cold sweat had returned as his thoughts spiraled into what-ifs.
What if something had happened to Yuri and Shiro, was this them? It couldn't be Yukio, Yukio was fine. He'd just called him, and this thing had started attacking Rin before then.
No. He'd have heard something if it was his parents. Definitely.
Don't freak out, don't.
As if controlled from outside his body, Rin watched his hand slowly move to flip the frame. Maybe it was Kuro? Could animals have spirits? Was that a thing?
A pair of smiles stared up from the picture, Yukio pulled into a hug next to him on their last birthday.
"Yukio?" It didn't make sense. Yukio was fine.
"Or, me?" What would he have done to attract a spirit?
Pain bit at his thumb and he hissed, droppin the sage as the fire reached the end and he froze. Waiting. Any minute now the ghost would start screaming again, start the painful press of its fingers to his shoulders and shatter more windows in his poor apartment.
"Please don't attack me again," he whispered in the probably vain hope that his spirit held some kind of mercy in its phantom heart or whatever passed for one.
When nothing came at his head again, Rin picked the photo up in a slow, unsteady motion. His limbs ached and trembled as the adrenaline that he'd woken with faded, reminding him that he'd slept on the floor for who knew how many hours and was probably a mess of bruises.
"I just-I need to sleep." He was bargaining with the dead. "Please, just let me sleep tonight."
Something brushed his curtains he knew weren't next to any source of wind and his heart plummeted, the weary pace of his heart trying to pick up again and wondering if he had time to run into the kitchen for more sage before the screaming and pain started.
The curtains settled, a last soft shift of fabric to the wall that Rin waited through for breathless minutes.
"I-thank you," he said and let his shoulders drop from the trip-wire tension they'd been in. "I'll try to figure out what you meant tomorrow. I'll call Yukio."
He'd call Yukio, if only to assure himself that he was okay. Then maybe his parents too, even though they weren't in the picture launched at him by an angry spirit.
Despite the ice he'd been assaulted with, his back seemed to burn. It burned all through the time it took him to sweep his floor. Through the duct tape he used to block his window off, and into the bathroom where he stripped and didn't think that the attention might have been undead eyes watching him wince through getting his shirt over his head.
In the mirror and white light from the bulb, the bruises spread like the path of claws down his spine from his shoulders he'd suspected would be there. Welts from his own scrabbling to get the weight off his chest the night before covered his front.
"I look like shit," he said as he prodded a bruise.
Hot water soaked into his aches until he approached something like normal. Physically.
Mentally…
"There's no way Yukio's going to believe me," he said into the spray.
Rin could show him the bruises, maybe, but would that prove anything? Yukio might think the same as their dad, that Rin had just joined mom in her mysticism hobbies.
"He's going to think I'm nuts." A pitiful sigh left his mouth as he built up argument after argument and saw them all collapse in the face of Yukio's air-tight logic. They all sounded like Shiro, and he could see the wrinkle that formed between Yukio's brows that spoke of a migraine brought on by whatever it was Rin said that didn't make sense that particular day.
He exited the shower and tried not to look into the mirror, catching a shadow on the peripherals and a chill that tried to fight through the heated steam as Rin dressed quickly before it could set in.
The photo wound up set on his nightstand next to his phone, and twin smiles followed him into an uneasy sleep.
There was no pressure on his chest that night, no scream and no icy fingers wedged into his shoulders. Still, Rin slept fitfully. In each scene he ran through, a shadow trailed. It made no sound, but Rin thought he heard what sounded like something wet dripping in a continuous pattern that wound him up into a tense ball of nerves waiting for sudden movement or an attack he was sure would hit at any time.
His waiting amounted to nothing, and Rin woke to a pale pre-dawn more exhausted than when he'd begun. At his window, rain tapped a steady pattern.
In the new light, the events of the night before seemed like a nightmare, seemed less real.
What was definitely real was the photo on his nightstand and the bruises on his back he still felt. The duct-taped window and broken light bulb and sage bottle on his counter all mocked him with their existence when he shuffled his way to the kitchen.
And, through it all, the cold followed close behind.
Was it just a ghost thing? At least the rain gave him an excuse for the layers he wore that day, trying not to look like he was keeping an eye on the gleam of eyes in the window of the bus and happy there hadn't been room to sit that day so he had an excuse to avoid any reflections.
"You look like shit, kid," his boss said the moment he stepped through the door. Before Rin could pretend there might have been some concern in her voice, she continued with, "If you're sick, you better not be spreading it around back here. I don't need my whole staff out with a cold because you didn't phone in."
Assuring her he wasn't a disease host let Rin make it past her into the kitchen to begin for the day.
Each moment without another attack made the phone in his pocket burn, and Rin couldn't help brushing a hand to it without thought. Was he right about what the ghost wanted? Maybe it was some kind of overly dedicated guardian spirit telling Rin he needed to spend more time with Yukio or something.
"You taking lunch, man?" Rin shook his head at the words from Godaiin, pulled up from the depths of his thoughts and reminded he'd been starving at least an hour ago.
"Yeah, thanks!" he said as he made his way, glancing at his phone to see Shiemi would be there soon for her lunch break and settling in to make it look like he was eating and not waiting for her arrival.
Not that he was truly alone, the shroud around him now a permanent fixture he couldn't shake no matter how many hot drinks and layers he applied to himself, and he wondered if he could get the ghost to turn it down a notch.
Sound from the door opening showed Shiemi had arrived and Rin tried to smile without showing his tension.
"Hey, Shiemi!"
If she noticed anything off, she was too polite to say, though Rin thought by the mention of getting him some nice tea she'd just bought might have been a hint that she thought he needed it.
Through their conversation, he kept the shivers to a minimum, though a part of him couldn't help asking.
"Er, so, it's not cold in here to you, is it?" He wasn't the greatest at subtle things, had never been able to master it. But Rin knew nothing he said would clue her in to the fact that he was being haunted unless he straight out told her there was a ghost currently floating over his spine.
Her green eyes blinked at him and she frowned. "You must be getting sick, Rin, it's warm in here."
Damn. "Ah-hah, no it's not that, I just forgot to bring an umbrella today so my clothes are still a bit wet."
That was sort of true, and it didn't make him sound like a complete idiot. Just the garden-variety type that forgot umbrellas and didn't check the weather report for the day. Or look outside, apparently.
She left with promises to bring tea next time, and Rin hid a sigh as he waved her out. It looked like he was alone with the ghost haunting him if Shiemi hadn't felt the chill.
When he glanced into the surface of the glass he was about to leave in the dirty dishes tray, he saw gold flares that might have been glaring at him or might have been the curve warping them into the expression.
Rin really hoped the miraculous patience would survive the rest of his shift.
Even with the lack of things flying at him, Rin kept waiting for another lid to rebel or the ghost to scream because he wasn't moving fast enough. The longer it didn't happen the more his nerves did the screaming for the ghost.
His hands fumbled with the apron he wore and Rin slipped out the door afterward, heart racing despite himself, or actually, he had a perfectly good reason to be panicking over a phone call and it had everything to do with the icy fingers clamped to his shoulders again when he hadn't moved fast enough when the clock struck for his shift end.
"Rin?" Yukio answered, and the fingers at his shoulders squeezed, sending Rin flinching with a cut-off yelp as he tried to maintain normalcy to answer Yukio.
"Hey, sorry, I was just calling because I, er-" why was he calling? "-forgot to ask if you were doing ok yesterday."
Silence. Rin winced, waiting for what Yukio would say. He knew how little time Yukio had, and how much he had to do. "Sorry, I know you're probably busy, sorry."
Stupid, why was he apologizing so much? "I was just kinda worried since we haven't really been able to see each other as much anymore…"
"So I…" He trailed off, unable to come up with a solid reason to be calling Yukio and realizing just how unnecessary it must have seemed. "Everything's ok, rig-"
"Yes," Yukio broke in, his voice stiff as if surprised or unsure about something, maybe because he hadn't expected the call? "Yes, thank you, Rin. I'm fine."
Oh. "Good, that's good," Rin said, suddenly stumped without a clear next step. Yukio wouldn't lie to him about something serious, and he must have been fine if he was going to visit their childhood home. Was that enough for his ghost?
Somehow he'd made it onto the bus, but having to sit still when all he wanted was to pace sent Rin's knee bouncing and heart to his throat.
"Everything's fine, Rin," Yukio said and sounded much more natural about it. Some of the panic in Rin abated, drained by the assurances until some of the restless energy left too.
"I've been going after class to speak with a professor about my career options and it's been helpful."
Of course! Rin nearly laughed at the relief sagging his shoulders. That was Yukio, planning ahead and working on things way before most people would even think about the first steps.
"I need to go, Rin," the inevitable apologetic goodbye came, "I'm speaking with him now, so I don't want to be a burden on his time."
"Yeah, I'm glad you're ok, Yukio," he said, letting Yukio hang up and dropping back to his seat. His head fell to the window and he inhaled a steadying breath. See? Everything was fine, Yukio had said so and he'd sounded calm. There wasn't anything to worry about.
Ice drove into his shoulders and a pressure shoved to his chest as he gasped a whoosh of air from his lungs at the sudden weight. The phone in his hand scattered to the floor while Rin tried to orientate himself, just avoiding hitting the person next to him with the arm he flung out to tear the vicious cold off his body and failed.
Rasping came from his throat when Rin gasped out a thin breath and searched the air in front of him like it would show him the ghost that had decided his call wasn't good enough and was trying to kill him on the bus.
He couldn't make a scene, either! Yelling at the thing would only get him kicked off and then he'd have to survive the hike home without collapsing in the streets and dying.
"Son, your phone?" the person across from Rin said in the wary way people looking at the violently insane did and he jerked his head in a quick nod, unable to get more than a pathetic sound out before giving up to focus on breathing.
Thin, shivery breaths made it in and out of his lungs, each one failing to bring any oxygen, or not nearly enough. His mind ran in a panicked loop of, "Just make it home, just make it home just ma-"
How long did he have? He couldn't think past the black spots clouding his vision or the worried faces surrounding him from more and more people, or the screaming in his ears that wouldn't let up!
Stop it, stop it, stop it!
Blinking, was that his stop? Rin moved in kaleidoscope shots and new images flashed every time his eyes fluttered.
There, the pothole he always avoided when he stepped off the bus, a bright red stop sign with the paint scratched off the side of it in a long gash, the line of doors to other apartments he walked past without counting–get home, have to get home–which door was his?
Wooden grains and paint flecking away from the surface registered to Rin as he heaved against the ice numbing him until his bones ached and head throbbed.
The key in his hand rattled with each failed attempt to use it and Rin sobbed, half-fallen to the door while shivers wracked his body.
Another snapshot image, the key in the lock and an open door before him as Rin toppled forward, one step, a second, the door creaked as it shut behind him; he saw the floor rapidly rising to meet him, and everything after was lost in the void of unconsciousness.
Rin blacked out, his breath rose in a cloud he couldn't see as ice enveloped his body.
"Goodbye, Rin," Yukio said, fighting the blush that heated his ears and cheeks and hoping it didn't show as he turned to smile at Santoka.
"Apologies, sir, that was my brother," he explained to the patient expression and cup of tea waiting for his attention.
"Please," Santoka gestured kindly, "it's no trouble. I understand family can sometimes worry."
And there was nothing worse–better, it was always better and he was a liar–than Rin's worry. It came with vibrant hugs, ruffles to his hair and a laugh that almost made it possible to ignore the murmurs on the edges of things.
"Does he call often?" The sudden question surprised Yukio and he paused over his tea.
A hand waved and Santoka scratched the back of his head. "No, don't mind me if that was too personal, I just know something of well-meaning families."
The way he put it, Yukio thought he did understand, relaxing from the slight freeze to shake his head. "Yes, Rin worries, and I haven't been able to see him much since I've been in school, so he calls instead."
Called, and asked after Yukio's health, and, when he couldn't bring himself to come up with more excuses, brought over lunches for him that reminded Yukio of home in the worst way–and with those lunches came ashes that turned the food into a solid mass in his gut he couldn't swallow around. It just sank in his stomach while Rin carried the conversation and Yukio nodded along.
Almost always, the flicker of fire and a voice just below a level he could comprehend whispered in his ears.
Sometimes, Shiemi would try to reach him, her kind eyes searching him like she could see beneath the smile he gave her into the part that he locked behind the strongest walls he could build–like they were made of paper, and she would tear them apart with the softest touch.
She never did though, never saw through Yukio's excuses he gave for turning down another meeting with Rin.
"So," Santoka said in that way that gently took Yukio away from the minefield of his mind, "I see you're working on a degree in law–any particular reason?"
There had been, in the beginning.
"Yes, my father," Yukio began, not knowing why he fumbled the last word and forcing himself to finish. "He's an inspector. I wanted to continue in a similar field."
For some reason, Santoka's gaze fell to the tea he had before him, a shadow over his smile Yukio didn't understand, though it could have been a trick of the light because it vanished when he raised his head again.
"Following in our parent's footsteps can be limiting in ways we never realize," Santoka said like he imparted a secret to Yukio. "And it's hard to find our own path when we're following theirs."
It felt like the truth, too, in ways he hadn't wanted to acknowledge. Now that he'd heard it, though, the thought wouldn't go back where it belonged, and Yukio floundered. His eyes widened, a slight stutter of his heart that jolted along with his pulse.
"Ah, but a degree in law will get you far," Santoka broke the spell and the room regained some of its order as Yukio schooled himself back into a form no one would think to question. "And you're at the top university for it, so your career is sure to be bright."
His eyes seemed to flash beneath his glasses and a look of excitement overtook Santoka. "Surely you've begun exploring internship options, or thinking of them, correct?"
He had. Yukio always did his research and the list was constantly updated with prospective places. Some, abroad.
"Faust is local, yes?" For the second time that hour, Yukio fought a flinch. "There may be some interesting opportunities to stay close to family with that option."
"And he is such a colorful individual, you certainly wouldn't be bored."
Local. Interesting opportunities. Faust.
Yukio smiled in a baring of teeth that barely contained the way he would have preferred to scream.
"No, sir," he forced himself to sound normal, "my father would likely object."
Would likely disown him, more. Or finally kill Faust with his bare hands.
Confusion lit Santoka's eyes and Yukio bit back his wince, he shouldn't be gossiping, not when it could affect Shiro's career to hear his–albeit vocal–dislike of their current governor spoken so freely.
"Well, I don't want to pry," Santoka said, looking as apologetic as his words implied. "But surely if it was in your best interests, your parents wouldn't object?"
Surely. Except Yukio wasn't so sure. Shiro hadn't ever told him or Rin exactly why he seemed to hate Mephisto so much, just gave the impression that he would be the one to personally lock him up and throw away the key with a vicious level of glee Yukio only saw from the worst cases his dad brought to justice.
The piece of Yukio that Santoka's simple question from earlier had awakened piped up that he could do it. He could stay close to home like they–and him, he didn't want to stay away, except that he couldn't go home, he couldn't–wanted, and have that one thing for himself that they couldn't take away. That piece sounded bitter, angry, like the shadows haunting him.
"I'll keep it in mind," he finally said past the concept of choosing like that and the rush it brought.
He left after finishing the tea–something strong Santoka said was a special blend he'd grown fond of over the years.
His day wasn't over, far from it. The olympic course facing him the moment he stepped from the strange range of protective silence enveloping his professor was so much louder than it had ever been, untiring and unceasing for reasons he would most likely never discover for the same reason he didn't know why they showed themselves to him only.
Pools reflected a red light he refused to look closely at, stomach turning with the tea inside and the pathetic sandwich he'd eaten without tasting earlier, trying not to think about warm lunches with Ri-
At his feet, he saw ruddy pools, thick, like they were filled with ash, but a color more like blood that stained his shoes to leave a dark trail in his wake. Were they actually there this time? No one else could see it, just him, and when he sat on the bus, the press of bodies were joined by an oppressive cloud of shadows.
Yukio didn't feel vindictive today, he felt tired.
Weariness sent him bowing forward over his knees, not helped by the ash and chorus of voices around him that wouldn't let up, because one rose above them, one always would.
'Everything's ok, right?' Rin had asked him that. He'd told Yukio with his own words that the excuses were failing and even Rin could see through his paper-thin lies. Things were very much not okay.
Laughing wouldn't be appropriate. Yukio wanted to.
If he stayed in the city, he could still see Rin. If he saw Rin, would the shadows finally swallow him whole instead of just suffocating him in their embrace?
The line he bled himself walking down wobbled every time he faltered in either direction. He'd found a small balance in going home and tasting the familiar, in seeing Kuro and hearing the comforting purr.
Get out of the city, go far away, put enough distance in and maybe the shadows would fade to something he could survive, maybe they'd become the harmless things his mother assured him they were. Maybe they'd go away entirely.
But Yukio didn't think so, and he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon, not when he had a demanding cat to feed and a degree to finish.
"Kuro," he called when he made it–home–to his parent's house. His steps wound up hounded by a soft-furred body and he moved to begin his tasks.
This time, when he walked past the hallway, light came in from the window as it should, somehow inviting despite the memories he knew existed that way. It played in warm flickers completely unlike the ones that blackened skin until it cracked.
Without his say, Yukio found himself drawn down the hall. Wood creaked beneath his feet as he padded over the floorboards. In his head, the path was much longer, walked with a shorter stride and another set of twin steps beside him, always beside him.
His hand reached out and opened the door to his mother's hobby room. Inside, the familiar scents of incense and sage and antique things drifted free now that they were no longer confined.
"Ok, Rin, Yukio, you can be here, but be respectful of the nice lady's time, ok?" He heard the cheerful voice of his mother soothe Rin's excitement, watching a session of hers one of the only ways he ever seemed to calm.
"Now," Yukio stared at the table with its ornate cloth cover and the glass ball on top, the one Rin loved to mess with as if he could use it to speak like their mother did, "who am I calling for you? Speak their name."
A name whispered from a tearful voice, and Yukio clutched Rin's shirt, getting a wide, gap-toothed grin from him over his shoulder. Rin was excited, he loved this part.
Yukio hated it.
Over the shoulder of the woman, a shadow drew like a shroud, eclipsing her form and shaking like a leaf, like it convulsed, pieces snapping out at horrible angles while their mother beamed and said "Your loved one is here, what do you want to ask?" And all of it wrong wrong wrong.
Rin bit at his fingers with stars in his eyes and couldn't see a thing.
Shadows moved across the table like fire and Yukio jerked away, no longer trapped by the memory of the last time he'd let Rin talk him into watching their mother's work. He'd dealt with the confusion with tears and hated himself even more for not being able to express why without hurting Rin.
And Rin, despite not understanding why Yukio was so afraid, had done his best, had stood like a guard dog over his bed and bravely checked beneath it and in their closet for monsters until Yukio had been able to pretend he wasn't scared anymore. When Yuri had come in and comforted him, asking what was wrong, if he needed to tell her anything, Yukio had almost broken. Looking into her kind eyes, the same she'd stared at the woman and straight through the shadow hovering over her, the words behind his mouth faded and he gave one of the first of many excuses. Lies.
It wasn't better in his own apartment, he still dreamt of flame and ash, but it was his. There weren't any memories to stumble upon when he least needed them, or when he hadn't prepared.
All Yukio had to do was let Rin in and see the brilliant grin he came wearing to infect his place with shadows that trailed him like he'd called them to visit, like their mom, completely unintentionally, but because of it, all the worse. Because when they came without an invitation, they didn't need to leave.
When Rin left, not all the shadows left with him.
End Notes:
Yeah Yukio's a hot mess as per usual lol I think every fic I find new and fun ways to explore just how many issues he has lmao
