[closed] with eyes sunk so deep in our skulls

[kokuyoyo]

Who: Chikusa Kakimoto, Ken Joshima, Nanako Dojima
When: when Hakkai disappears
Where: The empty lot in the Central District that used to be Temple Li Tieguai, later Temple Nanshe
What: Chikusa and Ken have lost two gods before, but it doesn't get any easier. Even for the third time.
Warnings: codependent teenagers reacting badly to loss, as usual



As had happened twice before, the disappearance happened so suddenly that it took a moment for the pain to set in, not too unlike how the brain would need a moment to accept the loss of a limb.

The Temple of Iron Crutch Li had been by no means been an enormous or extravagant temple in the pristine beauty of the Central District, but that had only served to make it all the more notable a landmark. The tall and sturdy red brick walls had stood out from the complicated designs of other temples, and the scent of herbs had wafted out from behind its simple decorated walls. It hadn't been a huge place, with enormous bedrooms or fancy kitchens... but it had been everything to some of the people who'd lived in it.

Just as utterly, it's now nothing.

As with the times before, not everything disappears. The bags and suitcases Chikusa had packed underneath their bed frame a long time ago, filled with spare clothes and poisons and rations, those had stayed. Chikusa's massive collection of beanies, although not the drawers that he'd kept them in, is still there and in a pile on the ground. A lot of their snacks, most of them Ken's, are scattered about.

There is a framed picture, drawn for lighter and brighter times.

There are letters.

There is not their bedroom, a little bit cleaner in recent days with renovations and expansions but still as full of their things as it had always been. There is not the herb garden, carefully maintained even by the two of them for chores, full of calming and comforting scents always found their way into the temple. There is not the kitchen, or its attached dining room, two places they'd all spent so much time in with food theft and conversation and an ease couldn't be found anywhere else.

There are not the things that matter.

There is not their god.

Comments

[kokuyoyo]

In the past, whenever he's been "gone", Ken's touch has always helped to bring him back. Sometimes the journey back takes longer, sometimes it's immediate, but he's always come back eventually because of Ken's touch.

Now... Now, he only needs Ken's voice in this one moment.

The world isn't silent. It feels like it should be, but it isn't. Water trickles distantly in the river that twines through the entirety of the Central District. Birds chirp and sing in trees, enjoying the comings of spring turned summer. Chikusa can't process any of it as real, not until Ken's voice breaks through, and it just... It hits him, worse than any physical blow he's ever taken, worse than shotgun shells or spider's legs piercing his torso.

Chikusa tries to take in a breath, tries to breathe, only to find it locked in his throat like the tears filling his eyes that refuse to spill. Mind and body are disconnected, and it takes him a second to realize he's turned in place, turned to Ken, reaching out to grab his partner. They've lost everything- he's lost so much. In the face of such overwhelming loss, he needs to know Ken is still there. He needs to know that there's still something, that he's not dreaming and he's still got something. If he doesn't-

Something small and furry slams into his side, making him topple forward slightly against Ken's shoulder. His brain is so out of it, shaken from grief and pain, that he doesn't immediately decipher the sound into something that makes sense. It's Pookie, and no wonder the sound doesn't make sense. For once, the nekomata isn't talking, but wailing in the upset scream that only a cat can create. Distantly, Chikusa can tell that there are a couple of other cats around- a few of the roaming nekomata, the cat Hakkai had left behind. There's a loud alarmed 'BOOF' that rattles him to his bones- Bon is still around too. He can't hear Pezzente, but he knows the goat can't be too far off.

They weren't the only ones left behind.

That... That makes it worse. That drives it home. Finally, the tears break free and streak down his face, and Chikusa's other hand reaches up to grab onto Ken more strongly. It had hurt when Axel had disappeared that first time, in a way that had almost destroyed him, because Axel had meant so much. Axel had been so much to him, as his first god. But he'd blamed himself for his disappearance.

He can't blame himself for Hakkai's disappearance. He knows that.

If anything, that only makes the hurt worse.

[junkyarddog]

The realization is slowly sinking into Ken, like a leaking faucet dripping water onto a dry sponge. Chikusa's clinging to him, his partner's tears(Ken isn't even truly aware of his own), the wailing of Pookie, the congregation of animals slowly coalescing around them. Bon presses himself up against Ken's back, either seeking comfort or offering it or both.

But Ken's body, still stiff with shock, doesn't unlock. The usual emotional outburst from him that one might expect - like the howls of grief when Axel vanished - doesn't come. He stays frozen, no longer from disbelief or a lack of comprehension but because he simply can't get past what's been put in front of him. It's not quite that he can't accept it; with every passing second, reality asserts itself a bit more cruelly. It's more that Ken's reaction is so strong, so painful, that it can't get through. It's like trying to force a watermelon through a straw. And Ken doesn't know what to consciously do with himself, either. Consciously, he has nothing, and subconsciously the emotional backlog is so massive that it's caused complete gridlock.

The closest thing he has to a coherent thought is that he ought to comfort Chikusa, help him feel better, but that's like thinking he'd like to jump to the moon. No matter how much he might want to, he has no idea how he'd even begin to do it, or if it's something that's even possible to begin with. It's impossible to act on it.

For the first time ever, Ken is the one disassociating away from his pain.

[kokuyoyo]

It honestly takes a few seconds for Chikusa to realize that something has gone wrong. He doesn't mean to be selfish in any stretch. But what else can he do? Even with how much he's tried to work on his and Ken's relationship ever since the two of them have died... His reaction to pain, to grief, has always been to retreat inwards. There's never been a chance in his life to learn otherwise.

So for a long moment, he stays where he is, holding onto Ken. Faint choked noises tremble out from his mouth. Chikusa won't let himself sob, hasn't done so in many years now... but it feels as though he can't take a single breath of air without swallowing his own misery with it. With how much noise is being made around him, he feels as though he could easily be 'gone' even though he knows that he's not quite there. Not all he way.

That might be a good thing... for all that he's in no state to tell one way or the other. Such things are for people who can see the bigger picture of a situation. Right now, Chikusa can only focus on the immediate and heart wrenching present.

And in the present, Ken is silent.

For all the noise being raised around him, one voice is actually nowhere to be found. The second Chikusa realizes that is the second his head jerks up. A horrifying possibility passes by him in that flicker of a moment. It's the mental image of Ken falling apart in his hands, disappearing into ash, into nothing, leaving him like so many others. It's a thought Chikusa has never bothered to consider while he's been dead. Clearly, if their circumstances lead them to one another again so neatly, they're meant to be together forever, right? They're meant to never leave each other's side.

But in the pain of the moment, he suddenly can't be sure.

Just seeing Ken still right there helps ebb away the spike of terror... not dismiss it entirely. Something isn't right,and Chikusa blinks some more tears down his face. "Ken?" he asks, voice thick with tears and snot backing up his throat. The knowledge that his hands are shaking is something he doesn't comprehend until he raises one up to touch trembling fingers against his partner's face. "Ken...?"

Between them, Chikusa has always been the one to 'leave', to escape his body until his brain somehow decides it's acceptable for him to be back again. It's always been common knowledge between him and Ken. Sometimes it just happens, and that's that. But Chikusa... has never had to deal with it from the other end. He almost can't tell what's even happening.

[junkyarddog]

Ken wants to speak. He wants to react. But he doesn't know what to say, how to react. It feels like he's being pulled in so many directions at once that he's essentially hovering in place, with no force acting on him strongly enough to actually move him in any particular direction. Each opposing desire balances itself out so perfectly that he's essentially locked in a kind of stasis.

He leans into Chikusa's touch a little - more because it's easier to lean than to not - but that's about all the reaction he can muster. His eyes can't even decide what to focus on, simply looking at nothing in particular. It's more than not knowing how to stop whatever it is this is; he doesn't know how to start doing anything else right now.

[kokuyoyo]

The lean into his touch is good. That's a reaction. That's something to show that Ken at least is... aware? But it's nowhere near as much as Ken should react. It's nothing that has ever happened before, nothing that Chikusa has ever had to deal with before. That's always been the basis of their relationship when they really come down to it: that sense of familiarity and stable comfort in a pair of lives that couldn't experience it from anywhere else.

Such a sudden change makes Chikusa freeze up in turn... even if it's only for a moment. It's his first response to everything that's always been to much for him, his brain freezing, leaving the body behind to react appropriately if there's even anything to react to. His eyes try to meet Ken's, frantic, lost. What is he supposed to do here? What can he do? Hakkai isn't there, Axel isn't there, Roy isn't there, they have no one...

Multiple somethings dig into his leg, and it takes a hot second for Chikusa to actually look down in order to see what it is. There's Pookie, still having shoved her way onto his lap, still yelling in distress... and her claws digging in past fabric to hit skin. It's not a bite from Ken, but it's enough to keep his mind tentatively tethered to the current here and now. Drinking in a shaky breath, he lets go of Ken just long enough to pry Pookie from his legs. "Keep an eye on him," he tells the cat, who finally manages to quiet down in favor of a determined nod. Once she's settled on Ken's shoulders, Chikusa quickly reaches down to pick up his partner's hands in his.

"Ken," he says quietly, floundering with his words or even what to do. Maybe all he can do is treat this like their life: a hideout being compromised, them having to clean up the mess, move on. If he can pretend it's like that... he can do something. Maybe. "I'm... going to gather all our things. I'm going to get whatever has been left behind. Okay? Do you want to come with me and help pick things up?" It doesn't sound.... like much, honestly. But he'll try anything to get Ken to react.

[junkyarddog]

Ken tries to meet Chikusa's gaze, but focusing feels hard - it's like some inner instinct, telling him that if he moves, if he does or changes anything right now, he'll get hurt. (And in a way, it's technically true - if he shakes off the dissociating away from his pain, he'll have to feel it, actually deal with it.)

But at Chikusa's words, he stiffens minutely as everything in him rejects everything about Chikusa's idea. No. It's almost more sensation than thought. Picking up their things - it's the first step after Hakkai's departure. The first step to having to move on, to having to deal with the fact that Hakkai is gone. It is in fact the first act of Life After Hakkai.

Ken doesn't want that. He wants the opposite of that so strongly that his brain has basically shut down all non-essential functions of his body rather than deal with the reality of Hakkai's disappearance. So Chikusa gets a reaction, sort of, in that Ken closes his eyes. That's all, but it's the closest thing Ken can manage to an absolute refusal to even consider what Chikusa's suggesting.

[kokuyoyo]

Chikusa has been punched in the stomach before, collided so hard with concrete that it shook his brain up, and yet nothing has ever knocked the breath out of his lungs so wholly and completely as the way Ken's eyes close. It would be a disproportionate response to so little a gesture, if only he didn't know what it means. Quietly, his hands tremble along Ken's.

He doesn't know what to do on his own. Can he even do this on his own? Axel disappeared, but he still had Ken on the other side of the ablution borderlines. Roy vanished, but they still picked each other up and dragged their way to Hakkai's temple. And before all of this, to the bloodied ruins of the Estraneo, the achingly clean spaces of the labs- they weren't alone. They couldn't be alone.

Even when he was dying, Ken was right there.

Perhaps dying is the closest thing he can compare this moment to, as Ken and him sit there with something separating them. When he was dying, he hadn't been able to move his hands to touch his partner. He couldn't truly reach him. Now, as well, he can't really reach him... Only the shoe is on the other foot now.

Trying not to shake and failing at it, Chikusa leans in against his partner and presses his face into the crook of his shoulder. Time is sometimes an uncertain concept to Chikusa's brain, during the worst of times, and this is certainly a time worse than most other things he's experienced. He has no idea how long he sits there, the animals crowding around them, before he forces himself upright.

If he could lay here forever, he'd want to. If it were him on his own, Chikusa knows he would. Yet he isn't alone, and he can't make himself alone, no matter that Ken is the one who's "left" this time. And if he isn't alone....

He has to take care of them. Because, just like their entire lives, no one else will.

"I'll be right here, Ken," he says, voice so tight that his words barely get out. Real effort is required to tear his eyes away from his partner to look to Bon, and he tries to mimic the stern effect of Hakkai's tone. "Bon, down." Whether he's good at it or not, Bon listens regardless with a kind of gentleness as he lays down right besides Ken. For once, Chikusa is thankful for the dog's massiveness. It's something to gently press Ken against, gently maneuvering his partner's hands into the fur and his head along Bon's back. "Cats- over here, too."

Ken loves animals. Maybe, Chikusa thinks with threadbare hope, it'll even help him Come Back, but, even if it doesn't, at least he'll have creatures that can protect him. From what... Chikusa isn't sure.

But there's always something.

As the cats begin to pile on the blond, uncharacteristically quiet even when Chikusa fusses with their positioning, he continues to speak to Ken. "I'll be right here. So this is fine. Alright?"