The cottage was shitty and small and it smelled like must. Five people, two bedrooms, meant space was a premium. They were used to small spaces by now. Katsuo slept on the couch, Rea on top of him some nights, somewhere else the others. With Myja, he figured, the times she wasn’t with him. When she was on top of him, things got a little easier, the extra weight on his chest compressing his heart and keeping him there. If he woke up in a panic, all he needed was to look down and see her mussed up hair, her head on his chest, to hold her hand, and he felt - not okay. Things were rarely okay for him, even here. But he didn’t feel as bad.
Sometimes they chatted quietly, nonsensically. Sometimes they cuddled, all warm and secure. But tonight he was calm, and it was enough to hold her hand, feel her weight on his chest and watch the fan above make those odd whup-whup-whup-whup sounds as it rotated slowly, pushing stale air around the room. Rea yawned in her sleep and he put his free hand over the side of her face, to block out the moonlight. Or the...sunlight. Nothing seemed right in this weird landscape, only the sensation that this had somehow happened before gnawing away in his gut like a parasite.
He squeezed Rea’s hand and with through a haze of sleep she squeezed his hand back and let out a small noise. Even asleep, even unconscious, she tried to tell him everything would be okay. “Rea,” he said, but couldn’t think of anything else to say after that. She made a mumbling noise, like she was trying to reply. He put his other hand on her head. He squeezed her hand.
She squeezed back. Sometimes he tried to picture the end of all this, after he’d killed the inugami, after everything was over. What would they do? Go home to different worlds? Even at home they’d be in different countries - Japan and...fuck, the USA, right? Canada? He’d never actually asked. He didn’t know what to say, what he was supposed to say. Sometimes, late at night, everything felt like it was speeding towards some kind of conclusion. This all had happened before, he just couldn’t shake that sensation. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. Everything felt all messed up, like a swirling cloud of pain was heading their way. He squeezed her hand. Sometimes, there was a ball in his chest, tangling up his organs around it. She squeezed back.
Maybe staying here was key. He squeezed her hand. Maybe they should shut off their spaceship and stay on this little planet, for the rest of time. She squeezed back. Maybe this was where they could be safe, here, Wayward Son against the rest of the universe. We just need somewhere we can be safe, he thought, and lay in the dark and listened to the cottage breathe.
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to the lighthouse (once more)
Sometimes they chatted quietly, nonsensically. Sometimes they cuddled, all warm and secure. But tonight he was calm, and it was enough to hold her hand, feel her weight on his chest and watch the fan above make those odd whup-whup-whup-whup sounds as it rotated slowly, pushing stale air around the room. Rea yawned in her sleep and he put his free hand over the side of her face, to block out the moonlight. Or the...sunlight. Nothing seemed right in this weird landscape, only the sensation that this had somehow happened before gnawing away in his gut like a parasite.
He squeezed Rea’s hand and with through a haze of sleep she squeezed his hand back and let out a small noise. Even asleep, even unconscious, she tried to tell him everything would be okay. “Rea,” he said, but couldn’t think of anything else to say after that. She made a mumbling noise, like she was trying to reply. He put his other hand on her head. He squeezed her hand.
She squeezed back. Sometimes he tried to picture the end of all this, after he’d killed the inugami, after everything was over. What would they do? Go home to different worlds? Even at home they’d be in different countries - Japan and...fuck, the USA, right? Canada? He’d never actually asked. He didn’t know what to say, what he was supposed to say. Sometimes, late at night, everything felt like it was speeding towards some kind of conclusion. This all had happened before, he just couldn’t shake that sensation. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. Everything felt all messed up, like a swirling cloud of pain was heading their way. He squeezed her hand. Sometimes, there was a ball in his chest, tangling up his organs around it. She squeezed back.
Maybe staying here was key. He squeezed her hand. Maybe they should shut off their spaceship and stay on this little planet, for the rest of time. She squeezed back. Maybe this was where they could be safe, here, Wayward Son against the rest of the universe. We just need somewhere we can be safe, he thought, and lay in the dark and listened to the cottage breathe.
He squeezed her hand.