[semi-open]

[sweetdeath]

Who: Tsuzuki, Hisoka, Battler (and you!)
What: Hisoka's dead (or is he?) and Tsuzuki's not coping well.
When: March 27 & 28, 2016
Where: Tajimamori's temple
Warnings: Discussion of character death, depression, self-harm.

Closed to Battler/Late Night March 27

[Tsuzuki isn't sure how he got back to the temple. There are blank spaces in his memory, spreading darknesses after that searing moment when he felt Hisoka dying and his name shattering into an equally blank and empty space where their connection had been.

The sunflowers are blooming all around the porch, and the cloying-sweet scent of orange blossoms rises from the trees along the far wall. He isn't looking at them: he knows by the scent and the flower shadows swaying over the front door.

He reaches out and fumbles, blindly, for the door handle. Smooth, worn wood under his fingertips. Door frame. His thoughts come more slowly with each moment, leaving most of the information of his senses to flow past without interpretation or comment.

A splinter stabs his index finger, and Tsuzuki notes the pain as if from a very great distance. He doesn't flinch. His hand falls on the door handle, he turns it, and the door falls open.

Tsuzuki stumbles over the sill and falls heavily against the wall just inside it, sliding down slowly until he is curled at the base of it.

He closes his eyes.

There's blood everywhere behind his eyelids.]

March 28/Open to Visitors, Hisoka in the evening

[The window is open in Tsuzuki's room. He's not sure if he opened it. It's ... familiar.

It doesn't smell like cherry blossoms outside.

This isn't Meifu.

Hisoka was a shinki, not a shinigami, and Tsuzuki couldn't protect him.

All that blood, and he couldn't heal him.

His thoughts wander by slowly, and the blanks grow between them, until he's staring out the window without thinking anything at all.]

Comments

[sweetdeath]

[He flinches away from her determination, hands coming up to clench into fists, to press against his eyes against the tears spilling from them again. He knows. He knows he has to. He just doesn't know how.]

I, I'm sorry --

[His voice is almost panicked, spilling out from that other thought circling helplessly in his mind. (I let Hisoka die--)]

[sweetdeath]

[Tsuzuki's not sure how long he leaves his hand there before, slowly, lifting it away. It curls into a fist, and he presses both fists hard against his face, gasping on a sob.]

[sweetdeath]

Party...?

[He looks up at her again, startled back into focus from his thoughts.

There was a party? Oh -- right. Hajime. Pool. He'd meant to go. No wonder she'd come.]

[galactically]

From Hajime's temple.

[She lets her gaze linger on the tupperware before shifting her eyes towards Tsuzuki once more.]

There are cookies, sandwiches, and those cute little hot dogs in the shape of octopus.

[sweetdeath]

[Tsuzuki's ha is almost a sob. He manages a tiny smile, glancing at her. She's trying to help. He doesn't deserve it -- what he deserves is the condemnation Yuuki had for him -- but it's nice.

He nods.]

... Thanks.

march 28th; sometime before evening

[roeh]

[Some people say anticipation is the worst. The fear, the sinking sensation in your gut right before you about to do something uncomfortable. Before you take the jump. Some people didn't have a fucking clue.

But people like Shepard, they knew it was the aftermath that really hit the hardest. Waking up the next day. Just getting up and out of bed. Knocking on so many doors and writing so many letters that the faces and names blend together like ripples on a lake that gather and grow until the entire surface is blemished with the unforgettable sum of them.

She knows Tsuzuki knew the true before he ever planned that trip. But he still...

And now...

Shepard didn't need to hear the news to know how these things ends. So she comes knocking. Windows worked just as well as doors.]

Is this the part where I buy you one drink or twenty or just offer my condolences.

[galactically]

I thought you might be hungry from that trip...

[What follows is quiet laughter, short and restrained. Right, Tsuzuki did say that he was going to a trip to hell along with Elsa and other gods, but she's not sure if it's even appropriate to ask when he's going through a mourning period.

So snacks it is.]

Please enjoy them.

[sweetdeath]

[Tsuzuki flinched in on himself at the sound of a voice, and the knock at the window: he's so tired, and each new time he has to explain what happened to Hisoka the pain of it bites more deeply. It takes him a moment for his thoughts to gather themselves, and for the voice to register.

Oh, it's Shepard, isn't it?

... And she did try to tell him not to. He winces, but he raises his head. His eyes are red and swollen from crying, but they're focused on her, with a guilty wariness as though he expects a lecture or a blow.]

I --

You heard?

[sweetdeath]

[He manages a smile for a few seconds before it sags away into misery, and nods at her, crossing his arms on his knees again. His trip. No, he's not hungry after that. It's probably good food, but it'll taste like ashes.]

I'll -- I'll leave it in the kitchen. Battler should have some.

[He puts his head down on his knees again (remember, Tsuzuki, remember there's another shinki depending on you, he says to himself, and takes a deep breath.)]

[sleepingknight]

Don't apologize to me!

[She can't take this any more.]

...I'm not the one who needs it.

[But the person who did isn't here anymore, and...]

Just... Just make sure it never happens again. [That's all she can say. That's all they can do, isn't it?] Don't--

Don't treat lives so lightly. Yours or theirs.

[She can't take this. With a hurried swipe over her eyes, she scoots back and stands, turning on her heel and making a dash for the door.

Because for all of her big talk, in the end, she's just a coward who can't even keep her closest friends safe.]

[galactically]

Of course he should.

[Sheryl simply gives a short nod at that, noticing Tsuzuki put his head down again. Well... now what? A sigh.]

I know your friend is gone, but... please. Hang in there.

[sweetdeath]

[Tsuzuki lets her go, curling closer around his knees.

There's nothing he can do. There is nothing that can fix it. It's --

He squeezes his eyes shut, barely struggling as the guilt drags him down, and doesn't even hear the door open or close.]

[sweetdeath]

[Tsuzuki nods slowly, not looking up. It felt so impossible. But he was going to have to, wasn't he?

He was -- somehow.]

[galactically]

[There's a long pause, a willing show of hesitation out of Sheryl despite herself.]

I can stay with you for a while longer if you like.

[Just in case if he needs it]

[sweetdeath]

[Tsuzuki shakes his head, turning it to one side to give her a sweet, faraway smile. He's not feeling it, but it's hard to feel anything under the guilt drumming in his mind.]

Thanks, Sheryl.

[galactically]

... You're welcome.

[Even when overtaken by guilt, Tsuzuki prompts Sheryl to smile back in return, a small chuckle under her breath. It's more subdued and wan than her usual smiles, but it's still present.]

Remember, you'll rarely find a woman as incredible as me.

[So she says with a lighter tone, just as subdued, but her face brightens up the slightest bit in an attempt to make the mood less dreary.]

[sweetdeath]

Yeah.

[Tsuzuki's trying to keep his smile intact. She's trying really hard to help, too. It's not just Battler he's got to stay strong for, is it? It's -- everyone.

He falters for a moment, almost letting his head fall back onto his knees, then gets up onto one knee and reaches for the Tupperware of snacks. Right. He's got to put it in the kitchen. It's something small enough that maybe he can do it, and let Sheryl feel a little better, too.]

[roeh]

I didn't need to.

[Nor does she need to now as she sees him even more clearly. Shepard knows that face. Better still show knows the ugly, corrosive feelings that go with it as well as some know their own family. A constant lover to share a bed with, to dream of and wake to every morning.

It's always the worst when the letter is for you but that doesn't save you from the grief of everyone else, only amplifies it, drowning out every other thought in your head.

Whatever happened, she doesn't need to ask to know. And she feels for him.]

Can I come in? Or we can go out. I know both options are equally shit but it's what I've got right now.

[sweetdeath]

Come in.

[Tsuzuki starts to get to his feet, to go to the door and let her in, and his legs come awake in a blaze of pins and needles. He stumbles and falls sideways, and startled embarrassment flushes energy through him that he hasn't felt all day.]

Uh -- it's not locked...

[He sits up, stretching his legs out along the futon, and scrubs at his face with both hands, trying to clean himself up. He's worried everybody today. He's... still worried. It's superficial, the way he's snapped suddenly out of it: it sometimes happens, but he can still feel the weight dragging him down. Maybe it'll be lighter eventually.

In the meantime, he leans over and prods at his legs, trying to coax them back to function while Shepard makes her way to the door.]