[...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.]
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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.]
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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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