[Whether or not it would be more beneficial to him, Shinjiro was certainly expecting the escalation to match his own. Aki would've punched him in the face by now, and Kitsuragi maintaining his calm feels a lot like swinging a punch and missing himself, stumbling forward with momentum that suddenly has nowhere to go.
What's left of the anger from that momentary outburst fizzles without further fuel, and Shinjiro's quiet as he struggles to find his balance in this conversation again. It's strange to be understood yet not, but there's something distinctly comforting about I won't try to convince you otherwise. Do what you must. Usually, when people don't understand, they're upset about it. Aki tried to change his mind for two entire years, had punched him in the face over the suppressants. Kitsuragi would not to try to stop him from fading away, and it's a relief, in a weird way. He's grown weary of hurting people around him because they simply cannot let him go.
But Kitsuragi is alive, and so is Amada, and that's where the gap lies between them, ultimately. Taking it a day at a time is what he's been doing, until now, but he hadn't had to worry about the end of that road because he wasn't about to let anyone else join it with him. Amada is different, an exception. He has no right to deny the kid anything. Yet, it feels unconscionable to simply carry on as though he won't inevitably be hurting the kid--just as how he could never simply "get over" what happened with Castor, could not take the chance it could ever happen again, no matter what. That's the part that nobody understands, not Kitsuragi, not Don, not Aki. He's as alone as he's ever been in bearing that weight.
He sighs. The lack of sleep is wearing on him, at this point. If he drags this out much further, he does risk just crashing out here, and the thought of waking Kitsuragi with his night terrors again is desperately mortifying. He should go, soon.
Shinjiro scrubs at his face, and after a long moment, he finally says:]
The guy whose place I've been stayin' at...he disappeared months ago. Still dunno what that means for us, exactly, but best case scenario'd be throwin' us back where we came from, and -- well. Time's already gone on for the kid. There's not gonna be any miracle second chances, here.
[For much of the conversation, he's avoided the older man's gaze, but here, at last, he looks up properly, right at him.]
...I ain't exactly lookin' for you to convince me life's worth livin' or some shit, Kitsuragi. I respect that you haven't tried, honestly. But I don't think you believe in false hope, either, in lyin' to yourself or anyone else. So just answer me this: if you knew the end was coming, probably sooner than later, would you put people through losin' you? More than once, even?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2023-12-02 01:12 am (UTC)What's left of the anger from that momentary outburst fizzles without further fuel, and Shinjiro's quiet as he struggles to find his balance in this conversation again. It's strange to be understood yet not, but there's something distinctly comforting about I won't try to convince you otherwise. Do what you must. Usually, when people don't understand, they're upset about it. Aki tried to change his mind for two entire years, had punched him in the face over the suppressants. Kitsuragi would not to try to stop him from fading away, and it's a relief, in a weird way. He's grown weary of hurting people around him because they simply cannot let him go.
But Kitsuragi is alive, and so is Amada, and that's where the gap lies between them, ultimately. Taking it a day at a time is what he's been doing, until now, but he hadn't had to worry about the end of that road because he wasn't about to let anyone else join it with him. Amada is different, an exception. He has no right to deny the kid anything. Yet, it feels unconscionable to simply carry on as though he won't inevitably be hurting the kid--just as how he could never simply "get over" what happened with Castor, could not take the chance it could ever happen again, no matter what. That's the part that nobody understands, not Kitsuragi, not Don, not Aki. He's as alone as he's ever been in bearing that weight.
He sighs. The lack of sleep is wearing on him, at this point. If he drags this out much further, he does risk just crashing out here, and the thought of waking Kitsuragi with his night terrors again is desperately mortifying. He should go, soon.
Shinjiro scrubs at his face, and after a long moment, he finally says:]
The guy whose place I've been stayin' at...he disappeared months ago. Still dunno what that means for us, exactly, but best case scenario'd be throwin' us back where we came from, and -- well. Time's already gone on for the kid. There's not gonna be any miracle second chances, here.
[For much of the conversation, he's avoided the older man's gaze, but here, at last, he looks up properly, right at him.]
...I ain't exactly lookin' for you to convince me life's worth livin' or some shit, Kitsuragi. I respect that you haven't tried, honestly. But I don't think you believe in false hope, either, in lyin' to yourself or anyone else. So just answer me this: if you knew the end was coming, probably sooner than later, would you put people through losin' you? More than once, even?