Ron waved madly, a ridiculously cheesy grin on his face, until the door closed. Then he let his arms drop, smile fading. He stared at the blank slate of closed door and wall between him and the outside world. Slowly, he leaned back on his heels, seeing how far he could go before at last gravity snatched his body and toppled him onto his back. The Floor of Sloth caught him easily, sinking under him until it was like he'd never left.
As though Toto had never been.
Ron stared at the ceiling now. Five years. He'd done nothing but lay in this room, allowing only flat, dispassionate data to enter. Now that he'd had a taste of living, could he return to that?
He had to, he thought. As wonderful as it would be to finally escape the tedium, to finally use his intellect and deductive reasoning as he was born to do, this small case had proven that he was still worthless. A failure of potential. A waste of a life. He had, without meaning to, once more let his murderous impulses have free reign.
Did he really have murderous impulses though? part of him asked, playing devil's advocate.
Of course he did. The Bloody Field Trip proved it.
Ah, but Ron didn't remember killing those people, the devil within him said slyly.
Neither did he remember ordering the culprit on the roof to jump, but Ron trusted Toto's rendition of the affair.
The devil conceded the point, agreeing that Toto was unlikely to have made up such a thing. But, it said, mentally pressuring someone to kill themselves wasn't quite the same as committing the murder with his own two hands. After all, it continued, if Ron instead had leapt at the criminal and attempted to strangle the man, only to be stopped by Toto, the consequences would have been far graver. There would be zero chance that Toto might return to him with a second case had that happened.
So? Ron demanded. Though he tried, he couldn't shut off his mind and stop the exchange.
So, the devil said, curling and undeserved wisp of hope around Ron's heart, the two weren't the same. Ron couldn't conclude he'd actively murdered those criminals solely off his record of pressuring other criminals into taking their own lives. He needed evidence.
Blue had evidence, Ron returned, but his heart wasn't in it.
The devil didn't even dignify that with a response. It saw his weakness, knew he was considering its words. Instead, it changed tack. Toto was a good partner, it thought at him idly. Like it was innocently commenting on the weather rather than trying to sway his heart.
Ron couldn't disagree. Trusting to a fault, dull-witted, and made of material rated A for Average, and yet his kindness and athleticism made him the perfect match for Ron's brand of rot. Ron couldn't forget the way Toto had somehow managed to save the criminal, unimpeded by the survival instincts that would have made any sane person let go. Even with Ron up there blathering on about his own issues, Toto hadn't stopped believing - trusting - that Ron would catch him in time.
Or perhaps that was going too far, Ron acknowledged. Toto likely had been busy watching his life flash before his eyes or something equally dull. But still. The point was that it had worked out, and Toto was entirely to blame. If he were able to keep Toto by his side, would he be able to return to reality? Could he make deductions again?
Would Toto even come back though? The thought depressed Ron all over again, and he covered his eyes with his forearm. Even if Toto did return, he told himself mercilessly, that didn't mean he would continue to do so forever. Toto was average. What did average people do? They lived average lives. They stayed at average jobs, married average people, had average children, and culminated a lifetime of average with retirement and death. Sooner or later, Toto would leave. Better to cut things off now before he grew used to happiness.
The devil laughed. Yes, Toto would surely desire that sort of normal progression, wouldn't he? it mused. No doubt Toto dreamed of finding some romantic partner he could lavish with his ridiculous kindness and loyalty, and upon finding that person, Toto would abandon Ron. Unless…
No. Ron shook his head slightly, afraid to think any further down that path.
Unless, the devil continued, uncaring of Ron's fear, Ron made himself detective and romantic partner both. If Toto became romantically entangled with Ron, then the problem would disappear, wouldn't it?
Impossible.
Wasn't Ron handsome? Wasn't he a genius? Of course it was possible. Toto didn't seem like the picky sort. Ron merely needed to learn more about Toto, and then, slowly, he'd be able to draw the other man into his web. It wouldn't even be a chore. Toto wasn't handsome, perhaps, but he was at least cute. It wouldn't be a hardship to enter a relationship with the man.
Ron flushed envisioning it. No, that would be no hardship at all, he admitted.
The devil said nothing. It no longer needed to.
Ron swallowed and sat up, absently scratching his cat behind the ears as he thought. Was it really okay for him to exist? Was it alright for him to be happy?
His cat climbed onto his lap and rubbed its cheek against his chest. Ron felt like he couldn't breathe. His heart was pounding. Was that fear or excitement? He couldn't tell. "Alright," he said to himself. "Alright. I'll try."
Less than a mile away, a chill went up Totomaru's spine.