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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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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