MOON, WORN THIN...

starter  / @evocalized​

     ‘ don’t you ever get tired of being different? ’ aesop questions after a moment of silence,  ‘ of never being able to blend in? ’ there is no denying that there are some similarities between the two of them despite coming from two very different worlds. the silver haired knows he is different from the others, he had to accept that fact years ago when the school rejected him simply from being different. he never lamented it either, he dislikes how people would stare at him just because he is different. aesop cannot help but wonder if the other feels the same way. 

     “No. I never had the time to wonder about it.” he had accepted it with alarming indifference, offering apathy to anyone that interacted with him. now, he understands why Yukari had been so alarmed, so concerned – his heart had died and only his body had lived. but that was part of the past, as much as it hurt to know he would never be able to thank her for being his friend, one of his closest, all he could do was to treasure her in his memories.

@evocalized​

Aigis wasn’t sure how she’d ended up here. Even as she wandered through the streets, the confusing different layouts of each of the ‘Wards’ was throwing her off. As soon as she got a hold of one, she stumbled into another and had to start all over again. The last she remembered, her and Yukari were talking about being roommates… then she’d woken up beside a gaping hole with a BB Gun. Her internal firearms were deactivated somehow, as well… She hadn’t even tried to use her Personas yet. Something, however, told her it wouldn’t work. It was all too strange…

Then, her thoughts were all swept right out from under her as she saw… someone, down the street. It caused the girl to freeze mid-step, eyes wide as she couldn’t do anything but stare. It was as Aigis was scared that, if she so much as twitched, the hallucination would end and he’d be gone again. 

He was getting closer, wasn’t he? No.. farther away. The robot could do nothing but stare in absolute shock and.. well, mild fear. 

There… simply wasn’t any way it could be him. She’d just gotten past all of this and yet.. here he was.

        he almost misses the glimpse of blonde hair, but when he does, it all ceases to matter. surprise and then, sadness — he could recognize that heavy clank everywhere. it’s nothing strange but his heart still aches, as if the air has been knocked off his lungs. familiar, and yet not. it has happened already, and the flash of pain is nothing particularly new but his steps come to a halt.

a feeling — a pressure that he’s familiar against his will. it has never stopped since he woke up, and he has had scarcely a moment of respite since his arrival. he had never thought of the consequences of leaving everyone behind, only the relief that they would live. that they would see another day, even if it was at the cost of his life. but this sensation hovers over everything else.

     the lingering flutter in his chest, hazy as it is, remains warm along with the memories of someone precious. someone he left behind.

Expeditions to Tartarus had taken away any possible fear with heights, not that there could have been in the first place — his fear had been less tangible, nearly impossible to discern. Even if he has never voiced it, it remains like a hazy memory, floating through the corners of his mind.

     “Ryoji.” He says, his voice firm but gentle as he nags the other boy spinning near the edge. The guard rails are no problem and Death is graceful; nonetheless, he worries. He has always known how daylight suits Ryoji, how he carries a spring on his steps or how his eyes are gentle like water but under the night, Makoto remembers. He remembers too well. “Ryoji.”

                                everyone…

the river below Ophiuchus is a spectacle. a place with no graveyards, and yet it celebrates death and life without pessimism. it’s beautiful but lonely in equal measure, a balance that never ceases to surprise him.

     “Here.” in his hands, he gently carries a flower raft before letting it drift away through the river. it floats towards the others he had already placed a few minutes earlier. the one left for his mother greets his sister’s and his chest aches slightly but his smile never leaves. “You were forgetting someone.”

            Something’s wrong.

            Ryoji doesn’t understand what, not when his last memory with him is of idyllic school days much as the day that came before that. Ryoji doesn’t understand why, when Makoto is never the kind of person to freak out over nothing. And yet the hands he holds at this moment felt so cold and clammy. Like Makoto has seen a ghost and has turned into one the process.

            It’s a bit terrifying, honestly, thinking what could have possibly led to this. The Makoto he has come to know is a kind and gentle person, but it is something he rarely shows on his face. He’s never seen him like this, period. Not to this extent. Not on something that has leaves him so shaken and scared.

            But he knows what he could do right now, and that is to be his friend. You go with them through all the good times and the bad times, right? So he’ll stay. He’ll stay as long as needed. If Makoto never got rid of him back when he was being avoidant, there was certainly no way he would be able to get rid of him now.

            He sets those hands free, in order to engulf his friend in a warm, tender embrace. He may not know what have happened, but his heart still aches in sympathy. Ryoji never wanted to see his friends get hurt and suffer like this. “I’m right here, Makoto. I’m not going anywhere.”

        he’s known this for a while — he had never wanted to let go.

it’s the thing he had held to utmost secrecy; especially after new year’s. it had become an easy task, despite the overwhelming threat looming over them all, but he had appreciated the small distractions. teaching aigis about the simplicity of life, offering his opinion to yukari about a possible reconciliation with her mother, or hearing of chidori from junpei. there had been so much, he had nearly no time to think of what-ifs.

                                 it’s no ordinary heartache. never was, never will be.

     he almost protests when his hands are pulled away, that well-known fear grabbing him, only for the words to vanish before he had the chance.

the pain returns, but this time it's lessened by the arms wrapped around him. it all blurs together into simpler days, a month that came as a temporary pause, before it all returned to the flow. however, nothing could be the same, and he’s aware of this more than anyone, even as he leans against Ryoji's shoulder. it’s all too familiar, and mostly of all, unchanged.

     maybe others would refuse to forgive the other boy, he doesn’t know and there’s no point in pondering that. all he knows is he wants to remain in those arms longer, and it’s selfish to entertain the idea but he has spent days, weeks, almost months trying to remember how it feels to stare at death in the eye.

    it’s late– a time where most of the city had long since fallen asleep. it’s a habit, she knows. being up this late, alert and ready for anything. it came from months and months of traversing Tartarus and handling the Dark Hours that her body felt too restless to simply fall asleep at this time.

        the roof of the condo – her newfound home – is where she was at, hands pressing against the roof’s ledge as her gaze remained upwards, fixated upon the moon. it glowed brightly, illuminating the entire city in an almost ethereal glow. how many nights has she spent looking up at the moon? wondering, thinking, about any and everything? too many, but tonight is not a night to wonder why she had this power or how many more Shadows were left to defeat. no, she was waiting. 

     waiting for that eerie green to cloak everything, for coffins to line the streets in place of bodies and blood-like stains and puddles to litter the ground. for every electronic to go out and that secret hour makes its emergence. but as she glances down at her phone, as the clock reaches midnight……….

                     nothing.

    seconds turn into minutes and nothing happens. the moon remains white, still glowing, still watching. it seems strange, as if not real, and yet– “ There’s……..no Dark Hour here. “

@evocalized​ – proxy event

        his steps are silent against the floor, gaze always on the sky. it never ceases him to surprise him, how beautiful the night is. sure, he lived for a whole month to experience the world he had left for everyone, but there is nothing like experiencing it for yourself. for longer, without a deadline getting closer and closer until breathing becomes an agony rather than a joy.

he had never understood what it meant to be grateful for every day. not until december. or january, if he’s more precise. the truth is — if he had revealed those thoughts, akinari would’ve chastised him. but near the end of everything, he is sure that all his friends understood, gone or not. especially shinji.

     his eyes widen slightly. he’s never seen her before. strange is what crosses his mind when he lays his eyes on the girl, nearly a thought but not quite. instead he searches with his memory for her face and struggles. if he’s never seen her before, then why does she feel so familiar? and there’s part of him that whispers to him to tell her to not leave him alone again.

again? he ruminates the word, but it does not tell him anything. it merely reinforces the idea that he’s missing a crucial part of him, someone precious but gone. similar to his mother, and yet not quite. even as he contemplates, searches for any answers, it becomes clear that nothing matters until he asks her name.

            Oh, how Ryoji longed to see the cherry blossoms at bloom!

            He arrived in Japan in winter, and his memories before that have always been fuzzy. Spring was one of the things he was looking forward to…but it wasn’t spring right now, was it? The calendar on his phone notified him that it was summer. How did he end up skipping an entire season, getting here?

            Well. He’ll just have to make it back by the time spring comes once more.

            He was so entranced at the picture perfect sight that he doesn’t realize until a familiar voice rang in his ears. As if by reflex, he started grinning from ear to ear, and he was quick to turn and run towards his dearest friend.

            “Makoto! I’m so glad to see a familiar face around.” Cool, someone he knew to share the cherry blossoms with! Of course, the issue of going home was still a worry in his mind, but right now he was just happy. And why wouldn’t he? He was always happy whenever Makoto is around.

            And yet, by the time he came close he noticed that everything wasn’t alright. The smile faded, his concern very genuine. “Hey, are you alright? You’re shaking.”

            He reached forward to hold his hands, an attempt to keep them steady.

        what is he supposed to say? lying is impossible, he has never been one to hide his thoughts. his expressions are hard to discern, but his heart is always on his sleeve. escape is not an option — not after everything, especially when Ryoji acts like nothing had happened.

     any choice is gone before he realizes it. or, maybe it was never one.

he’s known those hands longer than anyone. if Makoto closes his eyes, he’ll remember a green-lighted room, and the haunting glow of the moon. but if he presses further, he’ll think of gentle laughter and nostalgic blue eyes. anything else beyond is unspoken territory, and he has never forced himself to, regardless of how many times he had dreamed of the other’s blood on his floor.

                                Pharos. Thanatos. Ryoji, Ryoji, Ryoji—

his breath grows more frantic. instinct is all that prevents him from screaming, but fear threatens to override it. every time he opens his mouth, attempts to muster an apology or avert his eyes, his hands shaker harder. and his heart never, never stops pounding.

instead, he walks slower to catch up what surrounds him, all the sights surprising him. he has never set foot into this city, nor he imagines that it belongs to Japan, even with the cherry blossoms. it should be summer. right? a gentle smile appears even as the memory of Graduation Day resurfaces – it is bittersweet and the slight ache in his chest serves as his testimony, but he had known the consequences of his actions. he turns around and it happens.

                                 a familiar yellow scarf. blue eyes. silly suspenders. 

Makoto hears his heart warn him but like always, like back then – it sinks.

the familiar sting in his throat is the only warning he’s given before his mouth dries up. time again and again, he had pondered over his regrets, all things he left unsaid, the ever-present question if he should tell any of his friends. he never did. february had been merciful, but his last few days had slipped past his fingers before he had noticed. like november.

stopping in his tracks, he lets out a gasp of breath. his hands tremble.

     “Ryoji?”