birdwithoutasong | You should've left the light on

Alec half-winces from the question, the first time Koujaku has really managed to strike a blow with his words. Whether or not he intended it that way, Alec doesn’t exactly have a strong history with having friends. His sister had chosen a life as someone’s wife over that, and his friends at university thought he’d betrayed him. He hadn’t, but he still couldn’t blame them for thinking it. At least Richard and Balder had both been on good terms with him when he’d lost them. It’s probably the most he could wish for.

“What friends? I don’t have any.”

But Koujaku realizes his mistake—albeit not wholly the one Alec thinks he’s made. Of course it’s pretty fucking insensitive of him to bring up friends in a time when most of their lot has already been vanishing, and here Koujaku’s desperately trying to keep this guy grounded in reality when he’s doing everything possible to just fade away entirely.

He can’t blame him. He can’t really blame him. And for a moment Koujaku has nothing to say in reply. Instead, he’s meekly looking downward at their feet, before his face twists in a frown and he clicks his tongue with some irritation.

“Well, you’ve got one anyhow.”

Alec frowns, because he still isn’t sure if this man is trying to mock him. He’s here, for some reason, and if he wanted to attack Alec again, he probably wouldn’t bother talking to him first.

But that doesn’t mean he can just accept Koujaku at his word.

“With friends like these, who needs enemies? So you want me to stay alive for your sake?” It sounds like complete horseshit.

“It’s not the kind of thing I’d say lightly!” Though he’ll concede that his convictions are probably a bit thoughtless—although they generally are, anyway.

“But no. I ain’t asking anyone to live for me and I’d be a real damn bastard to expect that of anyone.” Thinking of his father—like hell if he’ll subject Alec to that.

"If you're going to tell me to live for myself, then I think I might try to slap you, despite the risks."

Alec frowns deeply at Koujaku. He can't come up with any good reason because there is none. At most, there's just the fear of death, as well as the fear that that wouldn't actually be the end of it all.

“Will that make you feel any better then?” he answers hotly, though he almost expects Alec to take him seriously. It would be some slight form of revenge, which is something Koujaku’s perfectly willing to provide, despite how shitty of a mood he’s in right now.

“Responding to violence with violence won’t make anything different,” Alec answers. “I just want to stop constantly thinking about it, having to live with it.” There’s only one way around that which he can see, but even that isn’t guaranteed to work.

Like hell it’s ever going to work. Koujaku’s had to live with committing genocide for years, and each and every day it gets harder and harder for him to want to cling on—especially with Aoba now gone from his life. It would be so easy for Alec to just take the easy road…

“What am I thinking…” he mutters, resisting the urge to punch himself in the face. He squeezes his eyes shut, takes a deep, calming breath, and looks Alec square in the eye.

“I guess I don’t have an answer for that after all.” Or at least, he hasn’t got anything that’s not Go ahead and make it quick.

“There we are, then.” As if this is any sort of conclusion, as if they’ve truly decided what they’re going to do from here.

“What would you let me do, to make up for it? What would work, in your view?”

It feels more like an affirmation of Koujaku’s own sheer cluelessness anyway, but he doesn’t mind it. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d just be winging it, anyway.

“Run away,” he says simply, recalling how Alec had tried before Koujaku had pounced on him and cringing slightly. “Or, if it came down to just you and me, I'd like you to off me without a second thought.”

He’s not even going to touch all those other nasty issues they’ve brought up—this is the only clear answer he can give anyone about his actions in the nightmare bubbles.

“Do you know my problem with that?” Alec’s voice manages to be lofty, as if the question is an academic one, far removed from the reality of the two men standing together, neither quite sure what happens next.

“I don’t think that I’m worth more than you.” He cocks his head. “Do you think that?”

Even in this state Alec still manages to talk down to him. Incredible. But Koujaku’s worn out his anger for the time being, and only manages to give Alec a flat stare in response.

“You’re not a monster.” Isn’t that enough? Fuck, it hurt to even say it.

Alec snorts, everything about this situation impossible and too much.

“Do you want to hide behind impossibilities? Men can make poor decisions too. I’m not better than you, just weaker.”

He looks utterly baffled at that.

“You’re…not a murderer,” he says, uncertainly, a twinge of bitterness in his voice at the admission. Those dead bodies in his dream bubble are all specters of a past he’d much sooner forget, after all.

"People have been killed for me. Because I wanted it, and because there was someone willing to oblige. I didn't hold the sword, but I did kiss the hand that did. So what's the difference, that you regret the lives you've taken? Or is it that you tend to play with your food?"

Had Koujaku been torturing someone else, Alec doesn't know that he would have cared. Of course it being personal changes things.

“It’s not a game to me!” There it is—Alec’s bound to find the right thing to break that little stalemate of theirs. It’s hard not to stiffen up at that remark about playing with his food. It’s hard not to see red after recalling how his mother apologized to him over and over again as she lay dying. It’s hard not to grit his teeth and feel his muscles tense when it feels like Alec is playing with him again, like he always does, and Koujaku’s almost inclined not to take that confession of murder by proxy at face value.

But no one ever said that it would be fucking easy to try and understand somebody else, especially when that somebody is trying so hard to push him away.

But Koujaku doesn’t lunge for him—yet. “Got that?”

Alec shakes his head, either against the burst of anger or the remark itself. It doesn’t really make sense to him, and maybe it doesn’t need to, but Koujaku has come to him for…something.

If it’s absolution, then he’d be better off going to pretty much anyone else.

“It sure felt like one.” He tilts his chin up, eyes burning with challenge.

He has to take a few deep breaths to calm down, to stare down at that defiance and try not to let his pride take over. It would be so much easier to get offended, to give some young punk a good thrashing for ever crossing him, but…

He takes a step back, still fuming. “Forget it. I didn’t come all the way here to play with you.”

Alec considers his options, then waves one hand, dismissive. It’s a sign of how scared he is of the other man that he doesn’t keep trying to needle, that he doesn’t want to provoke him into violence.

“Then leave me be.”

“Only if I’m sure you’re fucking taking care of yourself.” Back to this again—but at least he tries to keep himself from making any sudden movements this time. Although he might have to go and punch something repeatedly to relieve himself of all this tension when this conversation is over.

If they can even end this. It feels like they’re going around in circles…but some threats have to be made, after all.

“If not I’m coming over every day to make sure you’re not up to anything stupid.”

"What good am I to you alive?" It's an obvious question to ask, but it seems to be the root of what Koujaku's here for.

A pause, and then, his eyes careful on the man's face. "Alive, I can tell others what you did." He hasn't, and there's not much force in the threat. He figures they wouldn't really care.

He pauses at that, and his expression softens up into something much sadder as he slumps his shoulders in resignation.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can.” He takes a deep breath. “And I won’t try to stop you.”

It bothers him that that’s the easier question to answer. He wouldn’t have been able to state outright that he’s emotionally dependent on other people to an unhealthy degree at times—he doesn’t often realize it himself. And with most of his friends, with Aoba gone…

Alec shakes his head, abrupt and sharp. What would happen if he did speak of it? Koujaku seemed resigned to the fallout, but that itself seems impossible.

“I want to see you hurt,” he tells the other man, because it’s as true as everything else he’s said, even if he won’t do it himself.

“I don’t know why you think you should be my friend.”

Well, what did he really expect? He has no right to ask for forgiveness and a fresh start, not even in a depressing wasteland with everything gone. He stares at Alec for a long moment before placing a hand on the hilt of his sword, as if he’s preparing to engage him, though the expression he gives Alec is as sorrowful as ever.

Funny how a chance encounter from months ago would turn out like this.

“All right, then,” he says quietly, keeping the trembling out of his voice. “Where do you wanna start?” Hurting him, that is.

Alec is certain that he’s lost the thread of the conversation somewhere, is not sure what Koujaku is going to do now. Alec doesn’t have anyone in this settlement left who will reach out to hurt someone else for him.

“I can’t do it,” Alec says. His hands are clenched into fists at his side.

“I just think you deserve it.”

He heaves a sigh, casting Alec a forlorn look. If they could commiserate over how alone they both feel…

“That makes two of us.” But he draws his sword anyway, and thrusts its point into the soil, the blade facing away from Alec. He’s aware that dying is a pretty bad idea here—partly because he’s afraid of it himself, and partly because it would put a strain on the Hedonists’ own abilities. Yet he’s sure he can kill himself, if that’s what Alec really wants. He owes the guy that much.

“I could use this on myself too, but I don’t think you’d want to see that.” Seppuku is always such a messy business, after all.

Alec's eyes follow the blade, more fascinated by it than anything else. There's so much weight on both of them, and he doesn't know what to do, doesn't know if there's a step forward they can take.

"Why do you think I wouldn't want to see that?" A sigh, though, and he's not really expecting an answer to that. "Would you be willing to let me keep your sword?" Not like it does him much good, but still.

Because you’re saner than I am, he thinks, but doesn’t manage to say aloud. Vaguely, he wonders if any of them are sane at all, after a few months in this place, but Alec has after all implied a rather shady past from before the world just…ended like this.

Still, even Koujaku can sympathize with that. He tilts the hilt of it toward Alec.

“Be my guest.” Why refuse such a simple request? Isn’t this what he wanted anyway? To let Alec have a say in his own fate? If Alec strikes him down right now he wouldn’t even flinch.

Alec reaches for the hilt, and there are an awful lot of possibilities come with the blade. It's not like Alec knows how to use it, not like he feels any safer with it in his grasp.

The sword seems to have a surprising weight to it, but he brings it over to his side anyway.

"How long have you had it?"

“I dunno,” he replies, looking a little concerned that Alec might not even be able to wield that thing properly, but it’s not like he knows how familiar the guy is with weapons like these to begin with.

“I’ve had it for years, ever since…” The thought brings a bitter smile. “Probably since I went back to my hometown.”

Alec knows what swords are, but it's true that he doesn't know what to do with it, has never learned to handle them. It's the main reason Richard had let him watch him practice, because Alec doesn't pay the right amount of attention to the technique to pick up on anything. Still, Alec keeps his hand wrapped around the hilt.

"How many people have you killed with it?"

Another pointed question—it’s a wonder that Alec can’t kill with words alone. But he’s come this far, and he does owe Alec some honesty, if nothing else. It isn’t as if he’s got much to offer, anyway.

So Koujaku steels himself and looks him in the eye: “I don’t know. More than I can count, probably.” More than his own hazy memories of the past would admit, anyway.

Alec gives him back a thoroughly unimpressed look. The truth is that the person Alec's been able to use his words against has usually been himself, and even if he proves himself smarter than whoever resorts to violence, it isn't the best of strategies.

"What's the point of that?" he asks.

“I don’t know!” he growls, more angry with himself than with Alec, though all those upsetting questions he keeps asking aren’t helping, either. Koujaku doesn’t really want to keep a tally of his sins—they weigh on him heavily enough. And now he’s reliving that day to satisfy some guy’s curiosity because of…what? Is this Alec’s own way of taking revenge? It doesn’t make much sense to him.

“If my life made a hell of a lot more sense I wouldn’t be here, trying to make up for something…” Something he couldn’t help? He shakes his head, and sighs. “Look, I don’t want to make this about anyone else we have or haven’t offed. Let’s keep it to just you and me.”

"You and me," Alec repeats back. It sounds idiotic that way. This whole situation is idiotic, Koujaku showing up to do...what? To convince Alec that all of this matters? To make amends?

"I don't think that really matters." Alec sighs, his hand tightening on the hilt of the sword -- all wrong, and it's clear he has no idea how to hold it. It's also clear he doesn't care. "You're welcome to leave, whenever you wish."

“Fine,” he says at last, having found no other excuse to keep him there. “But don’t think this is the last you’ll see of me.”

That sounds like a threat. He wants to slap himself for that.

Instead he sighs and scratches at the back of his head. He’s never been quite as good with words as Alec seems to be.

“We all need someone to look out for us.”

Alec lifts his eyebrows, pointing out the absurdity of the statement and it's accompanying sudden gesture. If it's a threat then Koujaku is terrible at making them. If it's not one, then Koujaku is terrible at making apologies.

"We all need something worth looking after."

It's not agreement.

You should've left the light on

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