...More like, people showin' up from after I died.
[It's a little pathetic, maybe, that he would've had an easier time if Amada came from a time when he still wanted revenge, but instead he no longer really knows where he stands in the kid's life -- they're now tied together mostly by a sense of mutual obligation and guilt rather than any true camaraderie.
He rubs at his neck somewhat uncomfortably as Kitsuragi shifts toward the practicalities, though. That is ultimately the crux of his current crisis, after all.]
I mean...s'like I said, I ain't about to tell him he can't stay with me. When I ran into him, I told 'im if he never wanted to see my face again, to say the word and I'd disappear.
[There's a long, hesitating moment where he considers confessing the favor he'd been prepared to ask, if Amada had taken him up on that offer, but ultimately thinks better of it. Better he doesn't saddle Kitsuragi explicitly with the notion that he has nobody else. He shakes his head with a sigh.]
But he didn't, so. Here we are.
[Of course, if it were as simple as that, he wouldn't have been trying to get advice at 3 am, but he's not sure how to grapple with his complicated feelings or even how to define them. He keeps staring into his coffee, as though the liquid might hold some great answers for him along with his reflection.]
It's not...the living together part that's the weirdest. We shared a dorm for about a month before I died. If we were just stayin' together temporarily for convenience again, that'd be different, y'know?
[It wouldn't be so terrifyingly close to forgiveness.]
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2023-11-15 11:00 am (UTC)[It's a little pathetic, maybe, that he would've had an easier time if Amada came from a time when he still wanted revenge, but instead he no longer really knows where he stands in the kid's life -- they're now tied together mostly by a sense of mutual obligation and guilt rather than any true camaraderie.
He rubs at his neck somewhat uncomfortably as Kitsuragi shifts toward the practicalities, though. That is ultimately the crux of his current crisis, after all.]
I mean...s'like I said, I ain't about to tell him he can't stay with me. When I ran into him, I told 'im if he never wanted to see my face again, to say the word and I'd disappear.
[There's a long, hesitating moment where he considers confessing the favor he'd been prepared to ask, if Amada had taken him up on that offer, but ultimately thinks better of it. Better he doesn't saddle Kitsuragi explicitly with the notion that he has nobody else. He shakes his head with a sigh.]
But he didn't, so. Here we are.
[Of course, if it were as simple as that, he wouldn't have been trying to get advice at 3 am, but he's not sure how to grapple with his complicated feelings or even how to define them. He keeps staring into his coffee, as though the liquid might hold some great answers for him along with his reflection.]
It's not...the living together part that's the weirdest. We shared a dorm for about a month before I died. If we were just stayin' together temporarily for convenience again, that'd be different, y'know?
[It wouldn't be so terrifyingly close to forgiveness.]