[It happened over a random dinner, during an unrelated conversation, on a day only Akechi knew was important. He remembers the chain of events leading up to it - how each of their days went, their plans for the week. Remembers scooping a miniscule amount of rice onto his plate. Remembers a passing conversation about whatever celebrity scandal was happening on a too small television in the background.
He said it - the first time he's ever said it. The social worker knew, and never mentioned it. The foster homes didn't care and by the time he was on his own-
Only Akechi Goro knew a thing about her that wasn't clinically written on an autopsy report. The date of her death forever on a family registry filled with more blanks than people. It was when she died, officially. XX:XX. That wasn't the time Akechi found her.
It wasn't the hours spent trying to get her to wake up. It wasn't the minutes her stiff fingers lingered in his small hands, as he tried to warm her up. A single moment in time written down. Akechi remembers her death being much, much longer.
But the date is the same. He thinks. May have been midnight. Might have been 2AM. He remembers waking up an irate neighbor, and nothing else.
Not a thing, until he stepped into the doorframe of an unfamiliar home that was only going to keep him for the weekend.
And Maruki didn't say a thing - didn't offer to visit a memorial, didn't question it, didn't do more than ask a little about her and Akechi was able to quietly relay the few bits and pieces that remain of the woman who wraps her fingers around his throat nightly.
On February 3, Akechi offered the same.
And in the years that followed, it became a routine to acknowledge the dates with an unspoken curtesy. The barest acknowledgement and care towards those forgotten by the rest of the society. Who lived on only in the hearts of two people who never stop grieving.
Akechi didn't realize how it would feel to be sitting alone in a tiny apartment with every door open because he can't stand them being shut today. Only the front remains locked. Didn't realize how breakfast wouldn't happen this morning because he isn't hungry enough to cook and decides to surf the internet for better part of morning until-
Maruki texts, early.
Akechi's fine, so he doesn't need to talk and-]
No, I would welcome it. It's a rare day off. I had no plans and only meant to catch up on chores. You're up awfully early though.
And you never did find Neko-chan... Some detective.
Alright, I won't let any cats into your apartment when I eventually visit. Which begs the question - when do you want me to visit? I need to start saving.
[Now - written, and deleted. Today, Soon, This week all follow. All get backspaced. The apartment's too quiet - maybe he should have started the coffee maker.]
Stop bringing her up.
As for the trip, I can pay for it. Whenever you want to visit, you only need to let me know.
And in this moment, with every door in his apartment wide open, a familiar buzz in the back of his skull, a nauseated stomach from nothing-
He wants to come back, for a little bit. Wants to sit at a table, eat a meal prepared by someone else and hear lively conversation in a tongue he's familiar with. It's not homesickness - if Maruki were here, he wouldn't feel this way at all.
It'll be gone in a few hours, a few days. He brushes it aside.]
That's unnecessary.
Unless I need a place to lay low again, that is.
Have the murders in the Naples area made national news yet?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oh ok satan
He said it - the first time he's ever said it. The social worker knew, and never mentioned it. The foster homes didn't care and by the time he was on his own-
Only Akechi Goro knew a thing about her that wasn't clinically written on an autopsy report. The date of her death forever on a family registry filled with more blanks than people. It was when she died, officially. XX:XX. That wasn't the time Akechi found her.
It wasn't the hours spent trying to get her to wake up. It wasn't the minutes her stiff fingers lingered in his small hands, as he tried to warm her up. A single moment in time written down. Akechi remembers her death being much, much longer.
But the date is the same. He thinks. May have been midnight. Might have been 2AM. He remembers waking up an irate neighbor, and nothing else.
Not a thing, until he stepped into the doorframe of an unfamiliar home that was only going to keep him for the weekend.
And Maruki didn't say a thing - didn't offer to visit a memorial, didn't question it, didn't do more than ask a little about her and Akechi was able to quietly relay the few bits and pieces that remain of the woman who wraps her fingers around his throat nightly.
On February 3, Akechi offered the same.
And in the years that followed, it became a routine to acknowledge the dates with an unspoken curtesy. The barest acknowledgement and care towards those forgotten by the rest of the society. Who lived on only in the hearts of two people who never stop grieving.
Akechi didn't realize how it would feel to be sitting alone in a tiny apartment with every door open because he can't stand them being shut today. Only the front remains locked. Didn't realize how breakfast wouldn't happen this morning because he isn't hungry enough to cook and decides to surf the internet for better part of morning until-
Maruki texts, early.
Akechi's fine, so he doesn't need to talk and-]
No, I would welcome it. It's a rare day off. I had no plans and only meant to catch up on chores. You're up awfully early though.
YOU'RE satan
me??? happy birthday
[Attachment 20]
This thing has been hanging outside my building and causing a similar ruckus. I'm not sure how to calm it down.
IT'S MY BIRTHDAY? YAY
You know what I'm going to tell you to do. Start feeding it, then let it in, then name it...
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You're welcome to come by and take it off my hands though.
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[ And they all still hate him? Yeah. ]
I'll come by and let it in for you, though!
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I'll make sure your memorial is set up in Tokyo. The cat and I will visit.
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The cats in the machiya were annoying enough. I've gotten my fill on freeloading animals.
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Alright, I won't let any cats into your apartment when I eventually visit. Which begs the question - when do you want me to visit? I need to start saving.
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Stop bringing her up.
As for the trip, I can pay for it. Whenever you want to visit, you only need to let me know.
My suggestion would be late winter.
[February.]
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You will not buy my ticket! I can pay my own way! Save your money for yourself, please.
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I have plenty to spare. You don't.
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Late winter could be doable.
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A preschooler has more in their pocket than you have in this account.
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I have money set aside elsewhere. Get out of my accounts!
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Of course. I'll remove my access this afternoon. I only wanted to make a point.
[He won't. ♥]
I lived with you for years. This is a way to repay that.
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And in this moment, with every door in his apartment wide open, a familiar buzz in the back of his skull, a nauseated stomach from nothing-
He wants to come back, for a little bit. Wants to sit at a table, eat a meal prepared by someone else and hear lively conversation in a tongue he's familiar with. It's not homesickness - if Maruki were here, he wouldn't feel this way at all.
It'll be gone in a few hours, a few days. He brushes it aside.]
That's unnecessary.
Unless I need a place to lay low again, that is.
Have the murders in the Naples area made national news yet?
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1/2
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STOP EKEJRHFJSKSKS LEAVE CAESAR ALONE
NO IM ALLOWED
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