so there's that. but he looks clearly rattled at the memory, like his brain's trying to make sense of it? like he's trying to sort of reconcile this idea of sheila that he's had in his mind, and what he just witnessed. he's quiet for a long moment, and then he massages his temples, and then he looks back to sheila.]
.... you got out of there, right?
You and - your husband, I'm gonna guess? You're both okay?
[A small huff, shaky. It is literally on your card, Sheila? But she seems to be totally serious when she mutters it, flexing her hands like she's not sure what to do with them.]
... I got out of there okay. You didn't get to see it, but someone kicked down that door not even five minutes later.
This man is your idol, and he is your friend. Earning his praise makes you beam, and you feel like there’s a little sun inside your chest that gets brighter when he smiles at you. The teases feel friendly and comforting, as if they’re verbal hugs rather than anything malicious. You want to make him proud, and want to share every success with him.
This carefree laugh is your favorite in the world.
Your heart breaks worse with every passing gunshot.
. . .
Weeks after.
You’re sitting in the small apartment living room and sitting opposite you, there is an elderly woman wearing black. White flowers sit on the side tables, and you know that even though the funeral was weeks ago, they’re still grieving.
Your friend’s face still smiles in pictures around the house, and you keep thinking that maybe he’ll barge into the room suddenly with a laugh and a story. He won’t. Dead men tell no tales and all.
“We’re happy you came to see us, Enomoto-kun. Yuuta was so fond of you, after all,” the woman says, patting your knee with affection.
Despite everything that’s been weighing you down - a sense of dread curled around your throat like it will snap at any moment - you put on a smile for her. You hope it fits your face correctly. It’s hard when you can’t remember the last time you felt happy.
She doesn’t comment - so it must look fine.
“Yeah... Fuji-senpai was an inspiration to me, too. He always took good care of me.”
“Really…” Her tone is quiet, thoughtful. “He was saying that he felt like his junior kept surpassing him – you got promoted to Field Operations a while ago, didn’t you? He would tell us about that too… He said that he wanted to catch up to you.”
Your throat feels a little tighter. You manage the words -
“Up to – me?”
She nods in confirmation and doesn’t notice the way you feel like you’re coming apart.
“He was working so hard, trying to get his promotion… What he said was that he needed more accomplishments. He may have made a few missteps along the way – but how could he be condemned as evil when he only wanted to help….”
Few missteps.
Words flash before your eyes: Mistaken Arrests.
To catch up to - you. Stupid, reckless, lucky, breathing you.
The rest of the conversation passes in a daze - but you must have said the right things, must not have started screaming like you ache to. At the door, Yuuta Fuji’s mother sees you out.
“Take care, Enomoto-kun. I know… Yuuta would have been happy to know that you’re thinking of him.”
As she closes the door, you hear her sob from the other side - a muffled noise. She must’ve been holding in her grief too.
In the absence of her kind voice and sad eyes, you feel the weight of understanding and guilt settle on your shoulders like a shroud.
[... Jesus Christ. When Mineo's brain stops upchucking trauma all over their laps, Sheila will immediately bring a hand up to her mouth. Stare at him with sympathy in her eyes, frowning.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I.
Will do my best.
[that's
that's a statement though]
Um.... Same to you?
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Yup, I will be as cool as cucumber. So, shall we—?
[Well. They shall not be doing anything just yet. Social distancing will not protect them from a sudden memory. Enjoy that lore, Mineo.]
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he.
he doesn't scream.
so there's that. but he looks clearly rattled at the memory, like his brain's trying to make sense of it? like he's trying to sort of reconcile this idea of sheila that he's had in his mind, and what he just witnessed. he's quiet for a long moment, and then he massages his temples, and then he looks back to sheila.]
.... you got out of there, right?
You and - your husband, I'm gonna guess? You're both okay?
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[A small huff, shaky. It is literally on your card, Sheila? But she seems to be totally serious when she mutters it, flexing her hands like she's not sure what to do with them.]
... I got out of there okay. You didn't get to see it, but someone kicked down that door not even five minutes later.
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[ . . . . ? ]
... that's good, though. Uh...
Can I ask questions about... the rest of it?
[the fact that she didn't die from her injury. the goo sack thing. like. all of that.]
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... Depends on the questions. Remember, you promised to be chill.
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[ . . . ]
But you said... you wanted to help people, right? I get that too... but - can you help them in some kind of... special way?
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[LOOKS AWAY FASTLY, and awkwardly:]
I may have a special gift that can cure all illnesses and grant eternal life?
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god this is
taking him a second to process]
... C..... Congratulations?
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Yes. Yes it is because I've never met someone who's been able to do that before.
[HE WILL ADMIT THAT - ]
... but you're still Sheila-san and you don't want me to freak out, so I'll get through it. Just... give me a little? I'll do my best.
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[please don't say that so casually]
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[PLEASE,,]
So you... you could heal from that okay...?
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[sometimes... it just be like that.]
Yeah...? Usually, when I get stabbed, it just [SCHLURRRRPS] right away! Not here, though.
[she
glances down at her recovering fingie in annoyance.]
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[are so careless about the fucking fingie. okay.]
Got it. That does sound inconvenient... Uh... Can I ask where your powers come from...?
[what kind of superhero or manga origin story is he thinking of]
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What do you mean?
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[he pauses at that before nodding]
Got it. Well... [ . . . ] I do hope that you get to help people. Like you want to. I think you could do it.
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[And who doesn't like having a ~purpose~...]
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It begins with a conversation. ( 20:08 – 22:25 )
This man is your idol, and he is your friend. Earning his praise makes you beam, and you feel like there’s a little sun inside your chest that gets brighter when he smiles at you. The teases feel friendly and comforting, as if they’re verbal hugs rather than anything malicious. You want to make him proud, and want to share every success with him.
This carefree laugh is your favorite in the world.
Months later.
A video. (16:40 - 17:35)
Your heart breaks worse with every passing gunshot.
Weeks after.
You’re sitting in the small apartment living room and sitting opposite you, there is an elderly woman wearing black. White flowers sit on the side tables, and you know that even though the funeral was weeks ago, they’re still grieving.
Your friend’s face still smiles in pictures around the house, and you keep thinking that maybe he’ll barge into the room suddenly with a laugh and a story. He won’t. Dead men tell no tales and all.
“We’re happy you came to see us, Enomoto-kun. Yuuta was so fond of you, after all,” the woman says, patting your knee with affection.
Despite everything that’s been weighing you down - a sense of dread curled around your throat like it will snap at any moment - you put on a smile for her. You hope it fits your face correctly. It’s hard when you can’t remember the last time you felt happy.
She doesn’t comment - so it must look fine.
“Yeah... Fuji-senpai was an inspiration to me, too. He always took good care of me.”
“Really…” Her tone is quiet, thoughtful. “He was saying that he felt like his junior kept surpassing him – you got promoted to Field Operations a while ago, didn’t you? He would tell us about that too… He said that he wanted to catch up to you.”
Your throat feels a little tighter. You manage the words -
“Up to – me?”
She nods in confirmation and doesn’t notice the way you feel like you’re coming apart.
“He was working so hard, trying to get his promotion… What he said was that he needed more accomplishments. He may have made a few missteps along the way – but how could he be condemned as evil when he only wanted to help….”
Few missteps.
Words flash before your eyes: Mistaken Arrests.
To catch up to - you. Stupid, reckless, lucky, breathing you.
The rest of the conversation passes in a daze - but you must have said the right things, must not have started screaming like you ache to. At the door, Yuuta Fuji’s mother sees you out.
“Take care, Enomoto-kun. I know… Yuuta would have been happy to know that you’re thinking of him.”
As she closes the door, you hear her sob from the other side - a muffled noise. She must’ve been holding in her grief too.
In the absence of her kind voice and sad eyes, you feel the weight of understanding and guilt settle on your shoulders like a shroud.
It was you. You killed your idol. ]
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Oh, Mineo... I'm so sorry.