multimuse

A narrowed gaze.

“You’re far too calm for someone trying to enter dangerous ruins.”

“Am I? Haha... guess I missed the signs.”

dangerous ruins, huh. hiking his backpack up, trying to get comfortable.

“You’re under arrest.”

Is she joking? Serious? Who knows, but she looks confident.

freeze frame!

“Oh. Haha. I guess it just be like that, huh?”

[ entwine ] for your muse to hold mine’s hand

how long has it been…? the sun rises again to annoy him awake, and rantaro rises with a quiet sigh. sleeping rough isn’t something his body is used to, but it was an experience that he’s glad to have. adventure had run out of his body long ago, and his body had ached for it— this was just the pain of trying to break in a body too new, too unused.

comparing the two pains, what would he prefer? well, that was a no brainer. he’d prefer this physical pain than any sort of politics any time.magic is clumsy when he tries to coax it out of his fingers, but he ends up cutting his cheek instead. his magic had always been geared towards survival. it’d been what stuck with him— but he’d never gotten to practice it… much… until now.

his beard is a little embarrassing. he thinks it suits him, but the last time he’d grown a beard, toshiko had howled with laughter.

fingers soon twine with his, and he watches the mermaid that had been watching over this whole ordeal, and he laughs embarrassedly— but doesn’t take away the hand… a flutter of warmth flickers in his chest, and he smiles at kaede, looking away then back again.

“Does it look bad?”

questioning, as he rubs at his chin.

“… Would have kept it clean back at the kingdom, but ‘s a little hard here.”

… the kingdom, the kingdom.

… that’s his obligation. but…

..

“haha. “

[ attention ] for your muse to touch mine as a way of getting their attention

a bone deep tiredness cuts into his every cell. time hurries him along, telling him to go faster, faster, faster — the company ran because of him, and that was both a blessing and curse.

when he’d first started out, this was not end result he had foreseen. this industry had a tendency to cut one down to the bone — he knew this both first hand at the same time —

“sanuki-san.”

he turns around to the person that had just tapped him on the shoulder, feeling the instant coffee slosh around in the cup as he does so. it’s getting colder and colder with time.

coffee isn’t the only that got colder as time passed, of course. it was also just a fact of death and entropy. he knows this. 

regardless--

tucking his hair behind his ear, he closes his eyes then opens them again to try to blink the tiredness away. his back is straight regardless, and he looks impeccable despite any tiredness he might hold— his black circles are unnoticeable under makeup. his blink only looks like a moment of thought.

“did you have something to tell me?”

[ seduce ] for your muse to touch mine sexually 

sometimes— he wonders if he truly deserves this. loving boyfriends, a stable life— a happy life he never wasn’t sure he could have. love is a funny thing to him. love… love… 

love…

in an alternate world where he’d never met these two… would he have gotten love? haha, what a joke! he already knows that he would have gay chickened into signing his life away. into a game that ensured his death! wanted to see his death! his last moments a spectacle shown to the world. even animated beautifully should the detective want to give his life a worthy closing argument. 

…

he knows what would have happened if he stayed in his world. his own life was a signed death warrant with an end.

…. 

and here he was, now, with someone he had thought a character. his life was a fanfiction. he really didn’t deserve a lot of this love — all his love was uneasy for him. it felt like an act–

“rantaro…”

a quiet embarrassed sound, as his hand slide beneath his shirt, going red so easily. the beating in his chest is partly out of fear that maybe rantaro would notice his thoughts. it’s not possible, of course. but he knows that if rantaro knew, it’s … well, rantaro… 

…

rantaro is really too nice for him. he still makes his heart skip in his chest, and when rantaro looks at him, the love there and between them makes most of his worries melt away. 

“you’re really not being subtle. you can tell me if you’re horny. really.”

[ embrace ]  for your muse to hold mine 

Being King is not easy. And yet, someone had to do the the job — the kingdom would not run itself. In fact, if it did, Ben doubts that he would have met the love of his life in the first place. The position had brought him many gifts, and they were not ones that Ben was about to ignore. He had a chance to make people’s lives better. This was one of the greatest presents his position could give.

But this was, of course— easily topped by the girl hugging him— A smile easily lifts his face into a grin, and his arms easily wind around her. 

“Hey, Mal.”

Greeting her again even if he’d already greeted her once— the closeness warrants another hello. Every moment felt like a new moment with her, an exciting turn of life— her very being was the one that he wanted to fill with love. He wanted to give the world to her.

“Are you holding up alright?”

Lady of the court… it was a big title, and it was a big responsibility. He wasn’t about to let Mal get overwhelmed again.

love is a language he’s slowly learning-- he stumbles over the letters, the hand gestures and the smiles-- it’s still foreign to him. but it wasn’t like he was helpless like he had been before--what could he say? he had an amazing teacher. this student teacher relationship might be illicit. but that’s the way he likes it. 

kaede reaching for his hand isn’t new, but his heart flutters as if it was the first time anyway-- how embarrassing! allowing the fingers to entwine, squeezing once kaede’s hand makes itself home... or at least, he liked to think it as home.

he knows-- that he’s far too volatile, to be called a home. his heart was for the sea, for adventure-- even the knowledge that had been written in couldn't change that. there was a reason why he was called an amami, after all. it’s odd, for him. making that balance...

but .. he couldn’t leave kaede here alone, either. the thought of it makes his heart tense, drop-- and he realizes that if back where he had been from... he’d been fighting out of pure obligation, now he was fighting for something much deeper.

“Affectionate today.”

Smiling down, and it’s not unwelcome at all. his free hand goes to tuck kaede’s hair behind her ear.

his breath can’t help but hitch. his guarded heart and emotions melt too easily under touch-- the reason why he keeps distance, plays this game of infuriating cat and mouse just might be because he unravels too quickly under situations that shuichi could control. 

even so, he’s a master at a poker face. a teasing grin, rosy cheeks are still there, but muted by a devilish smile-- hand slipping under shuichi’s shirt, his other hand going to rest on shuichi’s shoulder.

...

“You seem bothered.”

he coos, almost too sweetly. putting foreheads together...

...

amami would get to see this every day, if he liked to. ouma’s jealous. he’s jealous-- overly so. he wants shuichi for himself...

“... but you should at least treat me to dinner first. the night’s still young, saihara-chan!”

ruin is all that amami knows. the burning the crumbling the destruction the fall-- every part of annihilation is a monster he’s intimate with, a horror he’d allowed to take over his life. amami finds his throat constantly dry. it’s from all the blood he’d inadvertently swallowed, getting into his mouth from red red hands. his pants are crusty with the blood of the dead. laundry had been such a bother.

 ruins is all that amami knows. the left overs, the empty echos of pain. still standing structures silent -- their stories are ones that have to be coaxed out gently. the gashes and the wounds are ones that still bleed. ruins told tales in their hurt and demise, and yet also one of endurance. 

amami didn’t care for them. he was the one that kicked down the ones that had come this far -- his hands only knew destruction, and he had long since put them to work on his own self-- breaking down, down, down, down, until there was nothing left.

he doesn’t know how to rebuild. 

“Haha.”

It’s tired laughter that leaves him, despair whispering, a siren’s song-- to turn this touch into something worse. 

“Kouji.”

tired words, tired being-- all he is is emptiness. 

“‘s alright. just a cut. really was an accident.”

the long gash on his hand takes him back into comforts that’s far too bad for his own good. 

when the end of the world makes its arrival– it sure didn’t come with an fair warning. nothing like hey, heads up– we’re just going to sorta end your world sometime, here’s the two weeks notice. haha, no big deal. all the timelines you know? wasted. would say press f to pay respects, but you wouldn’t exist anymore, do you? how sad. a tragedy. 

when the end of the word comes – hiroko thought he’d be ready for it, at the very least. but it’s sudden, it’s ruthless– and as the seconds until their doom tick closer, he finds that he’s running out of time.

time. what a finicky thing. what a … silly silly little thing, to be tied down by. 

he wants… needs more of it.

“… hey.”

when a hand finds his own, hiroko smiles, an easy smile despite the rocks that pelted the ruin of the earth. the ground is rumbling, hiroko can feel its vibrations– but his illusions smooth out the earthquake, but even hiroko couldn’t keep this up for too long. 

the illusions he makes… are one of calm, and they’re back in his apartment again.

“how are you?”

questioning, as if their time together wouldn’t be cut short any time soon. it’s a casual sort of comment, as he pulls lucius closer to him– one hand still holding lucius’s, the other tucking his hair behind his ear. the energy drain he feels is massive, keeping this up.. but lucius makes it worth it.

“pretty nice day out, isn’t it.”

cocky smile, and it is. it’s a nice day, in this little pocket world. 

… 

could he have prevented this? if… he had stayed with the foundation…

“… wondering if i told you if i love you today. did i do that, your majesty? think i need a reminder.”

the end of the universe draws near, and hiroko grins– not at the face of danger, but full of love at the most important person that graced his life.

“.. i love you.”

murmured, trying to pack every molecule of adoration and fondness into the small amount of words and letters he could get out in this limited period of time.

he could only say so much. disaster approaches them, and hiroko acts as if everything is okay. 

if only they could have more time– if only– 

…to pretend.

disgust is an emotion that nobody likes feeling. and yet-- here he was. disgust crawls into his ribcage and makes its home -- it makes his own hairs stand on end, makes him retreat. 

and yet ...

“Saihara-kun.”

his voice is level, and he rubs the back of his neck. the hoodie he’s wearing hasn’t been washed in a while. 

“... did agree to stay with you, but even this is a little hard for me, yeah?”

pretending to break up... pretending to hate kouji. that’s the extent of his act-- he can’t act backstage too.

…in grief.

empty, empty, empty. everything drains into shades of grey, like the lifeless body that was drained of blood – the rosy red that might have risen to kouji’s cheeks now sink to the very bottom of kouji’s feet. ouma feels colorblind. 

he’d seen countless bodies, but it’d never hit so close to home after his first one. not after his parents had…

a touch jolts him out of his shock, and ouma turns to shuichi, who had found kouji first–

…

“It’s okay.”

he finds himself saying, but it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. it’s something he never says to victims but it’s something that he needs to hear himself.

“It’s okay…”

it’s a lie, right? say that it’s a lie. say it. say it’s all a prank.

“Saihara-chan… It’s okay.”

…casually.

it’s only a touch.

it’s only a touch that makes his heart flutter, almost makes him blush-- the very concept of shuichi saihara is unfair, ouma thinks. the actor in front of him is too handsome for his own good-- ouma is smitten, head over heels.

a single touch on the arm to get his attention, a single touch that jolts electricity up his nerves and kickstarts his heart. he’s never felt more alive than he did now-- he can hear the blood in his ears and he wonders if this is what if feels like to be an vampire. he could ACT like a vampire. but the whole pretending to not have blood part would probably not work out-- not when saihara can make him blush with a single smile, a single laugh, a single glance given his way.

a single touch.

saihara’s saying something. ouma’s too dazed looking at saihara’s own face, but he quickly catches himself and makes it into an whole act.

ugh. he hated it when rantaro did this. he’s not a chihuahua! you can’t just hold him like this! he doesn’t wanna be spooned! he should be a jetpack! 

“Let - me go.”

squirming, complaining, whining-- despite the laziness, it’s one strong hold, in a lazy day in a lazy afternoon. snuggling, cuddling-- and ouma gives up.

“You suck.”

when she first tells him good night, it’s with words. the lingering fondness is soft, making him smile-- enveloped in the loving words, making all of him melt into her love. it’s a small smile. a smile that says i know you love me. a smile that says and i love you in return-- though it’s shy, only readable to people who had known amami for long. under his daring dangerous life-- amami holds all the love and loyalty of the world. he’s a little bit like a golden retriever. pet him and he’ll woof.

the second time she tells him good night, it’s with her hands-- lingering touches that don’t want to quite let the day slip away, and amami catches them, and intertwines fingers. 

“Don’t want to leave?”

the end of a date is always bitter sweet. the light of the electric candle between them and around them is fuzzy, turning the blanket fort they were in into a drowsy warmth. plates lie between them. they’re in amami’s trailer, faking camping-- rain pelts against the roof, a lulling sound of drums. weather had told them to stay inside today.

“... Could always stay. Can clean this up and we can sleep right here. Would be nice, wouldn’t it?”