[Lavi turns his head slightly so he can look at Kanda better, as if sneaking glances at him from the corner of his eye isn't enough. He's not sure what he's trying to find. There's smoothing over a rocky first impression, and then there's this. He'd touched it on briefly with some of the others, but at the end of the day -- Lavi knows the limits of Kanda's patience, and he won't ask him for something he can't give. It's enough that Lavi can understand both sides, even if he finds himself leaning too far in one direction -- foolish, when he's trained not to lean at all.]
I care. And it pisses me off.
[Am I angry because I'm been an Exorcist for so long? Or am I angry because of Yuu?
It's anger, not resentment. He meant it when he said he didn't hold it against them -- and won't -- but that doesn't mean he's not angry that it was done at all. But it's not even his usual anger -- the narrow-eyed kind where he mutters about the idiocy of humans and the risks they'll always take for the greater good -- it's something more personal, more biased.
Like the rage he felt when he met Tyki face to face the first time. Because Tyki had hurt his friend, someone he cared for.]
[It's enough, Kanda thinks, that he's still willing to work with them. At the end of the day, Kanda's goal is the same: to get the group out of here with minimal casualties. He doesn't have to like anyone here to save them, and so, he sees no reason to extend them grace and understanding, or to accept any olive branches they might try to hold out.
They're all strangers, and dangerous ones at that. They've proven this time and again. And there are those among them Kanda has let in anyway, in his own ways, those who he's come to look after--but for the most part, he's seen no reason to change.
Though it's not like the rest of them are totally wrong. Even Kanda can't live a life without trust. Without bonds.
...
He's not injured or exhausted this time, not the same way he was once before, but--he lets himself lean against Lavi's shoulder anyway. Just a little. He stares at the stream, at blossoms on the water that Lavi can't see. He's silent, but:
[Neither can Lavi, as much as he'd like to believe he can. That he can somehow separate himself from this moment, and maybe a part of him does. Until he feels the press of Kanda's shoulder against his, and realizes just how futile pretending can be.
Maybe he can't live a life without bonds either, whether it's the ones he's made here, or to the person sitting by his side, staring at the water like he can see something Lavi can't. But that's fine, because it gives Lavi the opportunity to look at him. If he has to give up on distance entirely, --
Then I can at least have this.]
It won't ever be me.
[Not when Lavi has made his stance so clear.]
And I won't let it happen to you.
[Because ensuring that Kanda doesn't lose his life is different from bringing him back if he lost his -- one is a safeguard, the other a choice taken. Lavi can scream and rage about it if it happens, but he won't go too far. He's felt how much it hurts to see a friend choose that decision, seen the consequences of it after. He won't. He can't. It's not even a question.]
[Unsurprisingly, Kanda doesn't say anything--and the thought that slips out is one that he never would speak aloud, at least not in his right mind.
...Thank you.
Lavi might know what it means for him, to make this sort of promise--but he doesn't truly understand. No one can, now that Alma's dead. And maybe Kanda doesn't truly understand either, what it means for Lavi to be in this position: to have the chance to keep these attachments he suffers for so much, and to purposely turn away from it out of affection and respect. Maybe if he did, he'd relent, and take this impossible pressure off of Lavi's shoulders. He's not Bookman. It doesn't matter to him if Lavi follows through with his duty.
But Lavi is promising him something that no one else ever has. And Kanda does a lot of things for other people, but he isn't selfless enough to turn that away.
As long as his body keeps moving, Kanda will choose life. Whether it's love or regret or duty guiding him, he's always found a reason to stand up again, no matter how tired and hurt he is. But someday, he'll find himself at the gates of hell. He can't turn away from them forever, and he doesn't want to.
With any luck, Alma will be waiting for him, and they can face damnation together.
Kanda's quiet for a long time, but eventually, he glances at Lavi.
...What would he want?
In their world, it's obvious. There's no such thing as true resurrection. To be brought back is to be made into a monster, suffering and helpless and violent until God sees fit to grant the mercy of release through Innocence. But here... with the certainty that those items in the swamp do precisely what they promise, and the mysterious notes hinting that death and rebirth mean freedom from the monsters tied to them... would Lavi want that second chance?]
[...It's a little funny to hear Kanda's thoughts, because for so long Lavi has simply relied on reading him in normal ways (if obsessively watching kanda for three years can be counted as NORMAL) that having the gaps filled in like this feels a little like cheating.
But he won't turn it down, and he won't let it go unanswered either. Because it's a good question.
What does he want?
He's tired of war and of fighting, but he wouldn't even think to compare his exhaustion with Kanda's or Lenalee's or Allen's -- all his friends who have been irrevocably shaped by the war and all its consequences -- who never had a choice before destiny turned them into Exorcists. Lavi had the choice (as much as following Bookman's plans can be a choice), but he had one. He has a life outside of fighting.
It's not much of one if he had to compare it to anyone else's in this town, but... it's still a life, one that isn't solely his either.
If I die, then the next Bookman Junior will be born. ...But Gramps is already so old. Will there be enough time to train my replacement? He was already cutting it close when he found me. It's my job as his Junior to do whatever it takes to survive. The Clan depends on it.
But killing someone to get that chance? Can I do that? Should I even be hesitating? I don't want to die. I don't want to fail Gramps. I don't want to leave Yuu and the others. I want to see everyone again, more than anything. But I...]
...I don't want to put that decision on someone else.
[It'd be easier if this was a fight for his life, then he could very well kill his opponent without any regrets. But in a situation where he's dead and someone else has to play along cult game rules to bring him back? It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.]
[All people die so long as they remain human, he'd told Skinn, as the Noah had fought to drag in his final breaths. He'd been thinking of himself at the time--of his own near-immortality, and subsequent inhumanity. Even now, after a month in this body that bruises and bleeds and scars like anyone else's, it's so difficult to imagine not surviving. Where Lavi is running on constant stress and terror over him, Kanda reaches inward for that innate, primal urge to live, and finds nothing save for a few stray regrets from nearly 45 years ago. I couldn't keep my promise, that man had thought, unaware that it was not the end for him at all.
Kanda will live whether he wants to or not. Even CYOA will prove that.
Lavi is different. He might not be quite human, but Kanda's seen nothing to indicate that he's not mortal, his life as fragile as any other exorcist's. Kanda's had years to get used to his presence, his resilience, but it's not like Tiedoll or Lenalee--the ones he's slowly grown accustomed to, the ones whose deaths he'd struggle to comprehend. If he woke up one day and heard that Lavi had been killed in the line of duty... it would be a loss that stung, but not unbelievable one.
And yet.
Kanda should be more prepared than ever to lose him in this place, but as the weeks pass, he finds himself more and more reliant on him. Lavi will tell him what he needs to know. Lavi will be there to bandage his wounds when he forgets. Lavi will bridge the gaps Kanda creates and smooth over frictions that Kanda won't, and he'll sit here when people Kanda almost liked make terrible, desperate choices, shoulder to shoulder, and know him.
So far, Lavi has always come back. It's getting harder and harder to remember that someday, he might not. Funnily enough, despite it all--Kanda's never truly been alone. He doesn't know what he'd do if he was.
But Kanda wouldn't ever drag him back. Certainly not against his will. So where does that leave them?]
...
[He doesn't know how to say I need you. He's not even sure that's what he's feeling. His heart and his mind are so clouded right now, after everything that's happened today.]
It's the sort of teasing reply Lavi would use to nudge them back into familiar territory -- so he can see Kanda's usual grimace and then get shoved away, straight into the water. So that this steady silence between them, their quiet vulnerability can smooth over and vanish as if it never was. It's the exact kind he'd say, without expecting a real answer.
But I want to know the answer.
It's not a question of whether Kanda would or not, but if Kanda would let himself. Because no matter how many people call him cold or cruel or unfeeling or unkind -- Lavi knows that he's none of those things. There isn't anyone in the world who doesn't feel regret or sadness. And as far as Lavi's concerned, Kanda is part of that world too. He's seen his past, seen that love. He knows every small loss here is a small part of the bigger whole for Kanda.
I don't want him to mourn, but...
But maybe, Lavi would like to be missed. That he can break the rules just this once, and leave an impression stronger than just the passing breeze with this one person, who's already become an exception in so many terrifying ways.
I want him to remember me. He wants to be remembered, to have mattered. To mark a spot on a page that's solely his, defined by someone else's memory -- not a stranger who'll look upon Lavi's life with a fair eye, but someone who would care. He curls his hands into fists. Just the smallest of movements, as if to anchor his blasphemy in this Record, waiting for that familiar despair to fall on him.
He relaxes his hands and leans further into Kanda instead. Just a little, for a moment more.]
...I won't.
[If he can't be remembered, then he just won't become a memory. He'll just have to keep living on.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beats you up for this sad tag
I care. And it pisses me off.
[Am I angry because I'm been an Exorcist for so long? Or am I angry because of Yuu?
It's anger, not resentment. He meant it when he said he didn't hold it against them -- and won't -- but that doesn't mean he's not angry that it was done at all. But it's not even his usual anger -- the narrow-eyed kind where he mutters about the idiocy of humans and the risks they'll always take for the greater good -- it's something more personal, more biased.
Like the rage he felt when he met Tyki face to face the first time. Because Tyki had hurt his friend, someone he cared for.]
:pleading_face:
They're all strangers, and dangerous ones at that. They've proven this time and again. And there are those among them Kanda has let in anyway, in his own ways, those who he's come to look after--but for the most part, he's seen no reason to change.
Though it's not like the rest of them are totally wrong. Even Kanda can't live a life without trust. Without bonds.
...
He's not injured or exhausted this time, not the same way he was once before, but--he lets himself lean against Lavi's shoulder anyway. Just a little. He stares at the stream, at blossoms on the water that Lavi can't see. He's silent, but:
It wasn't you, so it doesn't matter.]
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Maybe he can't live a life without bonds either, whether it's the ones he's made here, or to the person sitting by his side, staring at the water like he can see something Lavi can't. But that's fine, because it gives Lavi the opportunity to look at him. If he has to give up on distance entirely, --
Then I can at least have this.]
It won't ever be me.
[Not when Lavi has made his stance so clear.]
And I won't let it happen to you.
[Because ensuring that Kanda doesn't lose his life is different from bringing him back if he lost his -- one is a safeguard, the other a choice taken. Lavi can scream and rage about it if it happens, but he won't go too far. He's felt how much it hurts to see a friend choose that decision, seen the consequences of it after. He won't. He can't. It's not even a question.]
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...Thank you.
Lavi might know what it means for him, to make this sort of promise--but he doesn't truly understand. No one can, now that Alma's dead. And maybe Kanda doesn't truly understand either, what it means for Lavi to be in this position: to have the chance to keep these attachments he suffers for so much, and to purposely turn away from it out of affection and respect. Maybe if he did, he'd relent, and take this impossible pressure off of Lavi's shoulders. He's not Bookman. It doesn't matter to him if Lavi follows through with his duty.
But Lavi is promising him something that no one else ever has. And Kanda does a lot of things for other people, but he isn't selfless enough to turn that away.
As long as his body keeps moving, Kanda will choose life. Whether it's love or regret or duty guiding him, he's always found a reason to stand up again, no matter how tired and hurt he is. But someday, he'll find himself at the gates of hell. He can't turn away from them forever, and he doesn't want to.
With any luck, Alma will be waiting for him, and they can face damnation together.
Kanda's quiet for a long time, but eventually, he glances at Lavi.
...What would he want?
In their world, it's obvious. There's no such thing as true resurrection. To be brought back is to be made into a monster, suffering and helpless and violent until God sees fit to grant the mercy of release through Innocence. But here... with the certainty that those items in the swamp do precisely what they promise, and the mysterious notes hinting that death and rebirth mean freedom from the monsters tied to them... would Lavi want that second chance?]
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But he won't turn it down, and he won't let it go unanswered either. Because it's a good question.
What does he want?
He's tired of war and of fighting, but he wouldn't even think to compare his exhaustion with Kanda's or Lenalee's or Allen's -- all his friends who have been irrevocably shaped by the war and all its consequences -- who never had a choice before destiny turned them into Exorcists. Lavi had the choice (as much as following Bookman's plans can be a choice), but he had one. He has a life outside of fighting.
It's not much of one if he had to compare it to anyone else's in this town, but... it's still a life, one that isn't solely his either.
If I die, then the next Bookman Junior will be born. ...But Gramps is already so old. Will there be enough time to train my replacement? He was already cutting it close when he found me. It's my job as his Junior to do whatever it takes to survive. The Clan depends on it.
But killing someone to get that chance? Can I do that? Should I even be hesitating? I don't want to die. I don't want to fail Gramps. I don't want to leave Yuu and the others. I want to see everyone again, more than anything. But I...]
...I don't want to put that decision on someone else.
[It'd be easier if this was a fight for his life, then he could very well kill his opponent without any regrets. But in a situation where he's dead and someone else has to play along cult game rules to bring him back? It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.]
no subject
Kanda will live whether he wants to or not. Even CYOA will prove that.
Lavi is different. He might not be quite human, but Kanda's seen nothing to indicate that he's not mortal, his life as fragile as any other exorcist's. Kanda's had years to get used to his presence, his resilience, but it's not like Tiedoll or Lenalee--the ones he's slowly grown accustomed to, the ones whose deaths he'd struggle to comprehend. If he woke up one day and heard that Lavi had been killed in the line of duty... it would be a loss that stung, but not unbelievable one.
And yet.
Kanda should be more prepared than ever to lose him in this place, but as the weeks pass, he finds himself more and more reliant on him. Lavi will tell him what he needs to know. Lavi will be there to bandage his wounds when he forgets. Lavi will bridge the gaps Kanda creates and smooth over frictions that Kanda won't, and he'll sit here when people Kanda almost liked make terrible, desperate choices, shoulder to shoulder, and know him.
So far, Lavi has always come back. It's getting harder and harder to remember that someday, he might not. Funnily enough, despite it all--Kanda's never truly been alone. He doesn't know what he'd do if he was.
But Kanda wouldn't ever drag him back. Certainly not against his will. So where does that leave them?]
...
[He doesn't know how to say I need you. He's not even sure that's what he's feeling. His heart and his mind are so clouded right now, after everything that's happened today.]
...Then don't die.
[Keep coming back. He can't say that either.]
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It's the sort of teasing reply Lavi would use to nudge them back into familiar territory -- so he can see Kanda's usual grimace and then get shoved away, straight into the water. So that this steady silence between them, their quiet vulnerability can smooth over and vanish as if it never was. It's the exact kind he'd say, without expecting a real answer.
But I want to know the answer.
It's not a question of whether Kanda would or not, but if Kanda would let himself. Because no matter how many people call him cold or cruel or unfeeling or unkind -- Lavi knows that he's none of those things. There isn't anyone in the world who doesn't feel regret or sadness. And as far as Lavi's concerned, Kanda is part of that world too. He's seen his past, seen that love. He knows every small loss here is a small part of the bigger whole for Kanda.
I don't want him to mourn, but...
But maybe, Lavi would like to be missed. That he can break the rules just this once, and leave an impression stronger than just the passing breeze with this one person, who's already become an exception in so many terrifying ways.
I want him to remember me. He wants to be remembered, to have mattered. To mark a spot on a page that's solely his, defined by someone else's memory -- not a stranger who'll look upon Lavi's life with a fair eye, but someone who would care. He curls his hands into fists. Just the smallest of movements, as if to anchor his blasphemy in this Record, waiting for that familiar despair to fall on him.
He relaxes his hands and leans further into Kanda instead. Just a little, for a moment more.]
...I won't.
[If he can't be remembered, then he just won't become a memory. He'll just have to keep living on.]
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UNENDS YOUR THREAD
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