[ People make monsters of what they can't let go of.
Those words pierce like a knife and fog his lungs; the blackened smoke of a raging fire. Tinny bells fill his hearing, as if a gunshot's gone off too close, and the dance stops abruptly. In front of him is Subaru, surely, the dark of his hair an unmistakable color.
Whether it was his words or his talent or the dream space itself, it's almost as if he can see the menacing curve of Mal's shade, achingly beautiful and terrifying all at once.
(He feels the brush of her lips against his cheek, the muzzle of a pistol against his temple, and he's falling, falling, fallingβ)
The gramophone skips along with the spike of his pulse and he lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, shaking his head to try and clear the double vision. ]
Grief can make someone their own monster. [ Isn't that right, Cobb? ]
[ Halted, half-breathed on the skittered heartbeat of this dream reforged — Subaru knows when he's been cast in the overlay of someone's ghost. When sight goes just beyond his edges, the tender sieve of nostalgia sifting his soul from what it sees.
Falling, falling... alight here, is what the cup of his palm seems to say when he lifts it to lay on Arthur's temple instead. Not a kiss or a gunshot but an anchor, dropped into the still and the silence. ]
Then, you've already witnessed the kind of transgression I'm talking about.
[ And Subaru takes no joy in coming to understand that fact. ]
[ Heartbeat still ticking along in staccato, he draws in a slow breath, fills his lungs with the steadiness that Subaru is trying to anchor him with. Normally, he flinches from such intimate touch, especially introduced so soon.
There's something familiar in the curve of his palm though, a soothing nostalgic feeling he allows to stretch out between them both.
Maybe it's the way Subaru understands. This fragment of grief isn't just acknowledged, it's seen in all of its myriad colors. ]
I wish I hadn't, but there wasn't any other choice. [ Not wholly true: there is always a choice. His other option had been rejected out of hand, since it would be walking away from Cobb. No matter how many times he'd been tempted, especially as things had gotten worse, he hadn't been able to sever the tie.
He still isn't sure if that makes him idiotic, cowardly, or strangely admirable. ]
[ With his attempt to recall him cast and landing successfully, he does eventually withdraw his palm. In contrast to the swiftness and the surety of how he placed it, he now seems uncertain of where to relocate.
Too human, despite the ghosts. ]
That's the price the living pay to one another. In memory, mostly.
[ There is always a choice. However, the one that stands most protective is also the one that lacks humanity. To — abandon. Or forget, or go on to live one's life after the purging of death's mark from it. All carry a propensity for cruelty. Subaru has never learned which parts to keep and which to sever. It shows in his eyes. And he thinks, maybe, in the record's rifting, the strange inward glint of this dream as it cleaves to an understanding that now works in tandem outside of their dreamer's purview, it may be time to break away before he delves too deep.
Once eased of his tension by the dance, it fills out in him again beneath the opposite loop of Arthur's touch to his waist.
As if he's remembering where he is. ]
You taught me something kinder today than what I taught you.
[ As Subaru withdraws his hand, the intensity in his attention softens, like he's been caught in fugue and is coming back to himself. Or perhaps like he's possessed, in a way, by a calling he cannot ignore.
Ghosts, he thinks, don't always have to be someone departed. Sometimes, they're the weight of responsibility, the person who used to be a friend, the chorus of expectations from others.
Without knowing the other man too well, he can't guess which one lines the notches of his spine. At his words, he shakes his head slowly; always willing to be the one to disagree. ]
I've known. It isn't easy to think of, but I'mβ [ He pauses, considering his words, and gently catches Subaru's unsure hand in his. ] βglad, I think, to know someone understands without making it awkward.
[ If Subaru's words are an apology, his are a warm refusal, a silent thank you, despite it all. ]
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SUBARU
Date: 2026-01-12 04:34 am (UTC)[ People make monsters of what they can't let go of.
Those words pierce like a knife and fog his lungs; the blackened smoke of a raging fire. Tinny bells fill his hearing, as if a gunshot's gone off too close, and the dance stops abruptly. In front of him is Subaru, surely, the dark of his hair an unmistakable color.
Whether it was his words or his talent or the dream space itself, it's almost as if he can see the menacing curve of Mal's shade, achingly beautiful and terrifying all at once.
(He feels the brush of her lips against his cheek, the muzzle of a pistol against his temple, and he's falling, falling, fallingβ)
The gramophone skips along with the spike of his pulse and he lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, shaking his head to try and clear the double vision. ]
Grief can make someone their own monster. [ Isn't that right, Cobb? ]
no subject
Date: 2026-01-29 07:25 pm (UTC)Falling, falling... alight here, is what the cup of his palm seems to say when he lifts it to lay on Arthur's temple instead. Not a kiss or a gunshot but an anchor, dropped into the still and the silence. ]
Then, you've already witnessed the kind of transgression I'm talking about.
[ And Subaru takes no joy in coming to understand that fact. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-02 03:41 am (UTC)There's something familiar in the curve of his palm though, a soothing nostalgic feeling he allows to stretch out between them both.
Maybe it's the way Subaru understands. This fragment of grief isn't just acknowledged, it's seen in all of its myriad colors. ]
I wish I hadn't, but there wasn't any other choice. [ Not wholly true: there is always a choice. His other option had been rejected out of hand, since it would be walking away from Cobb. No matter how many times he'd been tempted, especially as things had gotten worse, he hadn't been able to sever the tie.
He still isn't sure if that makes him idiotic, cowardly, or strangely admirable. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-06 06:36 am (UTC)Too human, despite the ghosts. ]
That's the price the living pay to one another. In memory, mostly.
[ There is always a choice. However, the one that stands most protective is also the one that lacks humanity. To — abandon. Or forget, or go on to live one's life after the purging of death's mark from it. All carry a propensity for cruelty. Subaru has never learned which parts to keep and which to sever. It shows in his eyes. And he thinks, maybe, in the record's rifting, the strange inward glint of this dream as it cleaves to an understanding that now works in tandem outside of their dreamer's purview, it may be time to break away before he delves too deep.
Once eased of his tension by the dance, it fills out in him again beneath the opposite loop of Arthur's touch to his waist.
As if he's remembering where he is. ]
You taught me something kinder today than what I taught you.
[ It almost sounds like,
I'm sorry. ]
π
Date: 2026-02-12 03:19 am (UTC)Ghosts, he thinks, don't always have to be someone departed. Sometimes, they're the weight of responsibility, the person who used to be a friend, the chorus of expectations from others.
Without knowing the other man too well, he can't guess which one lines the notches of his spine. At his words, he shakes his head slowly; always willing to be the one to disagree. ]
I've known. It isn't easy to think of, but I'mβ [ He pauses, considering his words, and gently catches Subaru's unsure hand in his. ] βglad, I think, to know someone understands without making it awkward.
[ If Subaru's words are an apology, his are a warm refusal, a silent thank you, despite it all. ]