at the edge

[r_tenou]

Title: At the Edge
Genre: AU, Angst
Pairing: Ohmiya
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Do not own. Have never met.
Warnings: violence and character death

For my wonderfully wonderful beta, eva_lee, on her birthday. XD

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image by kokkaii

1.

The walls are red in this room, unlike the stark white of the last, and he can't help but think about blood - so much blood. It feels familiar somehow, but he can't remember why. Sounds of a crash echo in his ears, but every which way he turns to look is nothing but empty space and the looming red walls. They stretch up high, endlessly climbing to a ceiling that Ohno can't hope to touch even if he had a ladder to stand on.

Lights play in his peripheral; there's the screeching of tires and a woman's scream. He clutches at his ears hoping that it'll all go away in the next passing seconds, but it never does.

He looks up to the corner - a point he can focus on - and tiny pinprick circles begin to dance in his vision, multiplying like insects around a streetlamp. They float over and under one another in an erratic rhythm, almost cyclical. Ohno can't turn away, can't even blink. The colors and the movement mesmerize him, as though it's calling to him, shifting focus away from the awful sounds and the blood red walls.

There is no furniture around him. It's just an empty room with a perfectly polished white tile floor that reflects his tired image: hunched shoulders and half-lidded eyes. Twin doors stare back at each other from opposite ends of the room. One leads to the white room; Ohno doesn't know where the other goes, but he sits by it anyway.

His mind turns blank as he continues to stare, the screaming around him fading into nothing, absorbed into the walls like a distant happening. It moves out past him, and for a moment he feels as though he can see through the borders of the room, into time and space and existence itself. The red surface begins to melt from the ceiling, like chocolate running down the side of a fountain, except it's oozing and dirty and he knows if he were to reach out and sample, it would taste like death rotting on his tongue.

It roams the floor, pouring over baseboards and along the cracks in the tile, soiling the grout. Vaguely Ohno wonders what is going to happen once it reaches him - if it will continue to pool at his feet and fill the room like a muddied swimming pool or if it will climb up his body and entomb him like a clay statue. Will he harden afterward? Will he crack and break like sun-damaged pottery?

The noises are horrendous and he stands up to full height, listening to the glops and gurgles as it spreads. There's a distinct odor that permeates from it, like tar and mildew and fish. He's reminded of the ocean, the crashing waves, and spilled oil.

Ohno clutches the doorknob behind him, but something stops him from turning. There's a voice in the growing void, neither male nor female, neither singing nor talking. It reminds him of something he knows he's heard before - perhaps before he was born.

“Sleep,” it says to him, “sleep in peaceful eternity.”

And just like that, he's hooked. Just like the fish he catches day in and day out, just like the tuna in his net, just like the seaweed and the barnacles on the side of his ship, like everything that makes up his life. Ohno watches as the dancing circles subside where the corner used to be and the oozing mess peels back slowly to reveal a world of stars and space.

He knows he's going to die.

Ohno says goodbye to his mom and dad and Mina and the baby, his mouth shaping the words, but no noise coming out. They can't hear him anyway while he's in this place, and he's glad they can't see the picture he's seeing. To say he is terrified would be an understatement, but he has no energy left to react. His body feels as heavy as the thick liquid pooling at his feet.

The least he can do, he thinks, is take it like a man, even as tears spill down his face and his hands shake at his sides, so he juts his chin out and faces the darkness head on, brown eyes staring out into the great beyond. Ohno waits for the end with a steady patience.

Just when he thinks it's going to consume him, finally, after the long moments waiting and the life that flashes through his mind, he hears the door open behind him and someone's startled gasp. The voice - distinctly male, but shrill in its volume - curses loudly and takes hold of Ohno's arm, pulling him into the next room.

“What the hell are you doing, just standing there like that!”

The door slams shut and Ohno blinks up at a young man who can't be any older than twenty, if even that, from where he's landed on the floor.

2.

He follows slowly down a long corridor, dead ferns lining the spaces between each door atop cracked plaster pedestals. It's all very tacky, but Ohno's never been one for decorating, so he doesn't pay much attention to anything except his mud covered boots as he steps along the checkered tile, making great strides to only step on the black portions. There's not much to do except follow the boy, so he lets his mind wander.

He'd tried to introduce himself earlier, even held his hand out for a proper handshake, but the young man had only slapped it away and scoffed. “I don't even know if you're real,” the other had said. Ohno didn't know what to make of that.

Wasn't he real? Was this all a dream? He pinches himself, but the pain comes seconds afterward, like the memory of a feeling and not the actual sensation itself. His skin feels tingly all over, as though he's walking with once-numb limbs that were only just now waking up.

“You shouldn't keep following me,” the young man says without turning around. He stops to peek into one of the doors, but obviously doesn't like what he sees as he closes it again with an audible 'tch'. He quickly moves to the next one, looking for something he's certain is nearby.

Ohno's head tilts in confusion. “I don't know where else to go though. And you seem to know where you're going.”

The boy turns on him with a look of incredulity Ohno hasn't seen since the day he told his mama he'd seen a flying fish down at the local tavern. To be fair, he'd been drunk off his rocker at the time, but he doesn't think he's quite drunk now. Unless reeling from a near-death experience can be counted as inebriation. He doesn't think it can.

“You can't be real at all,” the other tells him with a sad sigh. He sounds just as confused as Ohno, if not more. “If you aren't real, you should leave. I don't need you leading it to me, so just go on.”

“But I am real, see?” Ohno lifts his forearm and pinches it with his other hand, illustrating to Nino that the pain is there, even if it comes as a late reaction. “It hurts when I pinch, so I have to be real. I have a home and a family and a name and everything. My name is Ohno. Ohno Satoshi.”

He holds out his hand again, and after a great deal of deliberation, the young man takes it.

3.

The boy's name is Ninomiya Kazunari, and Ohno can't stop staring at the ski goggles perched atop his short, dark hair, and the metal pipe he carries in his hand - for what reason Ohno can't begin to imagine. He doesn't think a metal pipe would be of any use against oozing sludge, but he doesn't know what other scary things might be lurking behind each doorway. Nino doesn't let him look.

When they come to the end of the hall, there's only one door left, and therefore only one option. It looks only slightly more promising than the rest of the plain oak doors, having a high arch that runs just above it, with a stained glass window settled at the curve. Ohno would like to see it from a better perspective, but it's too high and he's too short, and Nino pulls him through before he can give it anymore thought.

“We should be safe in here for a while,” Nino tells him and takes a seat in one of the plush brown chairs that's centered around a low glass table. It's the first room Ohno's seen that has any furniture (other than dying plants) and he sinks into the adjacent chair with a relieved sigh.

“Are you sure you're real?” Nino asks again. “Real people don't act so carefree after they almost just died. If you're not real, I promise I'll bash your head in first chance I get. I won't let you lead it to me.”

Ohno blinks. “What is it?”

Nino makes an annoyed clicking noise with his tongue and absently runs his hand down the length of his metal pipe, ready at a moment's notice to take action. “It - that thing that almost ate you up. It has no name, but I wouldn't be hesitant to call it death itself. If you let it get you before you find the light, you'll be gone forever.”

4.

They've been resting for hours, but no sleep comes even though his limbs are aching and his heart can't seem to slow. Ohno stares blankly ahead as he always does, as Mina always berates him for. He's vaguely aware of the calculating glances Nino (much easier to say than his full name) casts him every few seconds, a short finger pressed to his lips as he stares Ohno down from the next chair.

“I'd like to think you're real,” Nino says after hours of silence, “but you don't seem to be like anyone I've ever met before. Are you searching for someone in here?”

It startles Ohno and he's not sure he can take everything that's hidden in that one question in. “I'm not searching for anyone.” He shakes his head sadly. “I suppose though that I should be looking for a way to get out of this place. Is there any way out?”

Nino jumps in his seat to settle in a crouched position as he leans over the arms of their chairs and looks more closely at Ohno's young face. “There is only one way out and even then only one can exit at a time. It disappears and reappears and there's no telling when or where.”

It takes a few minutes for Ohno to digest this bit of cryptic information, but he thinks he gets the gist of it and nods absently. “I understand,” he says though the look on Nino's face dares to claim otherwise. “So then we should be looking for the exit and you can go first since you've been here longer. You have been here longer, haven't you?”

Nino looks appalled at the thought, his brows pinched and a nervous tic making his eye jump ever so slightly. “Don't make promises you can't keep. No one in here gives up their way out for another.” He stops to sit back in his seat, letting out an angry breath. “Don't get me wrong. I will be the first one out between the two of us, but don't go around acting so noble.”

Ohno doesn't know how to respond, so he sits and looks confusedly at the wood paneled wall across from them. Nino though, can't stop talking all of a sudden and lets out a pained, awkward laugh. “I knew you couldn't be real. You're just here to trick me and then lead me to it, aren't you? That's your game, isn't it?”

“I am real though,” Ohno mumbles. “I'm real and I have to get back home to mom and dad and my boat. Who's going to take care of my boat if I'm not there? I was going to scrape the barnacles off the side this weekend because old Kobayashi is going blind, but he takes care of the books, and I have to catch really big tuna on Monday...” His comments start to sound like a child's complaints and he realizes that what he might miss the most are the small things. “Mom is going to make a cake on Tuesday. It's the baby's first birthday and I bought her a fluffy fish...”

Ohno trails off, silent for the longest time, and looks down at his hands as though they are the most interesting things in the world - whatever world this is - when Nino erupts in unexpected laughter, shrill and unnerving. “You- you're real,” Nino tells him, “but you're also simple, aren't you?”

Again, Ohno isn't sure how to answer.

“So you've got a kid at home and you're talking about letting a complete stranger go home first?” Nino clicks his tongue in disbelief. “What would your wife think?”

“I'm not married,” Ohno corrects him. “I don't even have a girlfriend. The baby belongs to my sister, Mina. I would like to be back by Tuesday to give her the fluffy fish... but you've been here longer than I have. It's only fair you go first. That's what Mom would say.”

Nino laughs again, louder and longer this time. “So you're not married and you don't have a kid, but you are a mama's boy, am I right? That is so cute Oh-chan.”

A blush creeps up his cheeks and Ohno can't help but smile as he continues to rub his hands together shyly. He's never been called cute before - except by his mother - and the most common description was far from anything akin. “Most people just call me smelly,” he mumbles. “You know... because of the fish.”

A hand reaches over and ruffles his hair. “I don't know if you've noticed or not, but there's really no smell in this place,” Nino says, “so I'm going to stick with cute.”

5.

“We can't stay in there forever,” Nino says as he closes the high arched door behind them. A different hallway is laid out before them, much different than the one before - all clean and industrial looking with futuristic statues lining the spaces between doors. The wall is a cool metal and Ohno finds he doesn't like it as much as he does the wood paneling within the room.

“Why not?” he asks.

“That room is a safe zone. It can't reach us in there, but at the same time we can't find the exit either,” Nino explains. Ohno doesn't ask how he knows so much about this place. “If we're going to find the exit, we need to be constantly on the move. It's the only way.”

“Why does this hallway look so different?” Ohno runs his hand along the cold surface of the wall, his fingertips gliding along it's perfectly smooth flatness. “Did someone come in and change it while we were resting?”

“It's a different hallway,” Nino says. “And if it helps, you can think of this as a different floor and the safe zone as an elevator, though that's not entirely correct.”

Nothing more is said as Nino pushes past Ohno, grasping his hand unexpectedly and pulling him down the corridor. Ohno looks down to see their joined hands, but he doesn't say anything. It feels almost natural, though the sensation of Nino's fingers entwined with his doesn't come until seconds later. When it does, he squeezes back, assured and ready.

They continue down the seemingly endless hallway, stopping only for Nino to peer into certain doors; he cracks them open only marginally, and not enough room for Ohno to see inside - not that there's probably anything to see. Ohno imagines all the rooms look the same, with bland metal fixtures and probably without any furniture, much like the first two he'd found himself in upon waking in this strange new world.

He begins to wonder about the different levels - what each one looks like and all the different colors. And if it is devouring all of it, one room at a time in pursuit of the people there, then why doesn't the space disappear? Are there only a limited number of rooms and spaces left? Is that why Nino peeks through the doors carefully?

Or does this world repair itself? He's seen a room come down so easily that he doesn't think it'd be impossible for another to come back to life with just as little effort. His imagination expands in this world, colors and happenings all playing in his mind as though anything is possible, though he's seen so very little. This isn't the real world he knows, but it's most definitely not a dream either.

He doesn't think he could begin to dream up a person like Nino anyway. The metal pole is tightly grasped in the younger man's left hand, and his right has to let go of Ohno's every so often to clutch and turn at doorknobs, but when he doesn't find whatever he is looking for, it returns without question.

Finally Nino lets out a soft “aha!” and he allows the latest door to swing open and reveal a room that is sunshine and yellow, but once again barren of furniture. Ohno knows it's not a safe zone, but somehow he feels especially warm when he walks into the doorway, letting the light that falls down from a place he cannot see wash over him. It reminds him of days at sea, sunlight pouring down as he stands at the very front of his boat.

“What is this?” Ohno asks. It's quite the contrast from the consuming darkness he'd seen before. It's bright and uplifting and he feels like he could stay here forever if given the chance. “Is this what we're looking for?”

“No,” Nino answers immediately. “I've seen the exit and this isn't it, but I think it's leading the way.”

There's a door across the room, just like every other room - always two doors, except for in the safety zone. It's all starting to seem like a giant, endless maze to Ohno, but there is only one way to go, so they cross the brightly lit space. It expands with every step they take forward, the door moving further and further away until Ohno isn't sure they're walking at all.

They begin to run, and it begins to move away faster, like the floor is zooming in the opposite direction under their feet. Something tells them not to go in that direction and the moment they stop, the door stops too and it's as though they haven't moved an inch at all.

“Is that supposed to happen?” Ohno asks, out of breath as he leans down to hold his hands at his knees.

“It's not,” Nino answers.

“You're going in the wrong direction,” someone tells them from behind and they both spin around to stare at the empty room. The voice is familiar to Ohno - so much that he knows it beyond a shadow of doubt. But that's impossible, isn't it? There's no way he could be in this place, Ohno thinks.

“That's the wrong way,” the voice says from another direction and they spin around again.
Like before, the space they stare at is empty and there is no other person in the room. Ohno begins to wonder if he's not going crazy and infecting Nino by proximity alone. “You'll have to go back and look for another way. I know the way.”

“You're going in the wrong direction,” it begins all over again, like a voice mail set on repeat. “That's the wrong way.”

“Matsujun!” Ohno calls out above the disembodied voice. “Matsujun, I can hear you! Tell me where you are and I'll find you!”

Nino's metal pole raises into the air and he sets himself in a defensive stance, ready to take on whatever might pop out at them. “It's starting again,” he says more to himself, but Ohno hears anyway.

“What are you doing?” Ohno asks in confusion. “It's okay. That's my friend's voice. If he's here then we should help him. Or maybe he can help us? Maybe we are going in the wrong direction.”

“We're not going in the wrong direction.” Nino doesn't drop his guard. He walks cautiously around Ohno, facing the yellow walls around them as though he might lash out at the slightest provocation. “And that's not your friend.”

“It is him though,” says Ohno. “I'd know Matsujun's voice anywhere.”

“Was this Matsujun with you when you entered this world? Was he with you when it happened?”

Ohno thinks back to the previous day. He'd not seen Jun since the last weekend and it was Thursday and that made today Friday - if he hadn't been out longer than a day. All he remembers is walking out the door after his mother kissed his cheek and sent him along with a paper bag lunch. Matsujun hadn't been with him at all, but that doesn't mean that Matsujun can't be here now.

“I don't even know how I got here,” Ohno answers.

Nino looks back at Ohno sadly. “So you don't remember how it happened.” It's more a statement than a question, as though he might have expected it. “That's okay. Just trust me when I say that it isn't your friend you're hearing. If he didn't wake up next to you, then that's not your friend.”

Ohno isn't sure about that logic. Matsujun doesn't wake up next to him on most days - unless they've had a few too many to drink and he passes out at Jun's apartment - but that doesn't make Matsujun any less his friend. “That doesn't make any sense,” he says, and he's sure it doesn't. It can't.

“You're going in the wrong direction,” the voice goes on and on in the background. “That's the wrong way.”

When it stops abruptly some moments later, it's set off by a click of the door ahead of them, the handle turning slowly as someone presses it open at a snail's pace. There is no light emanating from the next room and the figure is a shadow in the darkness, eyes glowing out at them.

“Get behind me,” Nino whispers to Ohno, though he already is. It's a warning to stay put, but Ohno has no intention of moving anytime soon. The eyes are a bright magenta, glaring out like that of an animal staring into headlights, completely still and just as frightening. Nino backs up, his free arm coming into contact with the upper portion of Ohno's torso, lightly pushing him back as they continue to watch the figure in the doorway.

“You're going the wrong way,” it says, sounding more human this time. “I can show you the way out if you'll just follow me.”

“We won't be following you anywhere,” Nino says. He's backed them up into the door they entered from and still his arm is across Ohno, holding him in place as though he might break free at any given moment. He waves his pole in warning, the rough metal shining under the bright lights. “Now let us pass before I bash your head in,” he commands.

“You wont hurt me.” The figure is smiling; they can hear it in his voice. “Ohno-kun won't let you hurt me. Isn't that right Ohno-kun?”

As the figure steps into the light and its features are more easily recognized, all strong and familiar, its glowing purple eyes fade into a dark brown like root beer and licorice. His hair is just as perfectly styled as ever - maybe a little too much for having been stuck in this place - but Ohno doesn't question it. He pushes Nino aside and runs for the figure, his arms outstretched and waiting.

“Matsujun!” he exclaims happily as he embraces the figure. “I knew it was you!”

Jun's arms wrap around Ohno, holding him tightly with a presence that should have been impossible. But just as soon as they'd come in contact, Ohno was ripped away from the reunion, Nino's hand grasping at the back of his shirt collar like that of a mother cat removing its kitten from danger. “That is not your friend,” Nino tells him pointedly, dragging Ohno backward.

“Excuse me,” Matsujun takes hold of Ohno's arm as he's being pulled away, “but I am his friend. We've been friends all our lives - or all of my life, anyway. Our mothers go shopping together every Sunday and he's stayed over at my house a thousand times. Can you say the same?”

Ohno looks at Nino, though they already know what the answer is. He's only known Nino a few hours, and Jun a million more than that - so the choice he has to make is obviously clear. “He is my friend,” Ohno tells him. “I'd recognize him anywhere. So maybe we should follow him.”

Nino shakes his head, his eyes pleading to Ohno. “He'll lead it straight to us, or us to it. We can't follow him. He's not your friend.”

“He's more a friend to me than someone I've only known half a day,” Ohno says. He feels a slight pang of guilt when Nino lets go of his collar, hands dropping uselessly to his sides - even the one tightly grasping the metal pole. “I'm sorry, but I trust him. I'm going to follow Matsujun.”

“I can't go with you,” Nino responds sadly. His eyes harden with resolve. “If you go with him, I'm not going with you.”

6.

“Do you remember that time we went to look at the boats?” Matsujun doesn't elaborate any more than that, but he really doesn't have to. Ohno is grateful for the distraction; his mind is still stuck on Nino and the bright yellow room, how the warmth seemed stripped away the moment he stepped out with Jun.

“I do.” Ohno nods. There were a million times he'd been to see the boats before, but only once did Jun ever go with him. “You complained about the smell, Matsujun. It just smelled like fish and the sea though.”

“As expected, Ohno-kun loves the sea,” Jun laughs. His smile is wide and happy and just like Ohno remembers. Memories flood through him, as though against his will and he follows along, his hand caught in Jun's.

Once upon a time it had been Matsujun who was always following him around like a little brother, just three years younger and always in awe of Ohno's world. That had been when they were younger though, and now they were much older and the admiration had quelled some years ago. Still, from time to time Ohno can see the same awkward little boy in Jun's dark eyes.

And now it's him following Matsujun.

“Do you remember when you left school?” Jun asks next and Ohno can't help but think it a little odd. Matsujun never liked to talk about how Ohno dropped out of school with one year left to go, or how he was ready and willing to follow his friend at the drop of a coin. Ohno had talked him into staying though; after all, Jun hadn't heard the call of the sea like Ohno had.

“I do,” Ohno repeats. They enter into another room along the hallway (red again, but a shade lighter) and it makes Ohno shudder involuntarily. The last time he'd been in such a room, he'd almost lost himself. “Matsujun, where exactly are we going?”

“I told you I know the way,” Jun tells him. He stops and squeezes Ohno's hand reassuringly, that same old Matsujun smile carefully in place. “I know the way, so it'll be alright.”

Ohno nods, his heart alight at the familiarity. They continue through quickly (thank goodness, Ohno thinks) and into another room, brown and long like a great hall of some sort, except it is, as every room is, void of any furniture. “Are all the rooms different colors?” he finds himself asking.

Jun doesn't answer him directly. “Do you remember the time we built that fort down by the river with all those cardboard boxes?”

“I painted them all blue, but they were washed away with the rain the next day,” Ohno replies without really thinking. It strikes him as odd that Matsujun is being so nostalgic, but it might just be the place they're in and the danger that lays all around them. “Matsujun, are you sure you know where we're going?” he asks, hoping to get some kind of response other than a vague assurance.

“Do you remember the time we ate watermelon out on the grass?”

7.

There are so many rooms of varying shades and hues and Ohno wonders if he'll remember each and every one because they all remind him of things he'd like to paint someday. Deep reds and crisp blues, light and dark greens, and an orange that reminds him of sunset over the water.

He's glad Jun's with him. There's a comfort in the familiarity, even if Jun is acting a little strange. All his questions begin with remembrances and it starts to weigh heavy on Ohno's mind, so eventually he stops answering altogether and settles for squeezing Jun's hand every so often just to prove that he's real. In all the people in all the world that could have fallen into this place with him, he's glad it's Jun.

“There's no one else here with us, is there?” he asks suddenly, a thought occurring. “No one we know anyway, right?”

His thoughts slip back to Nino; the younger man had been so distrustful, so convinced that Ohno wasn't real. He hoped Nino would find a way out sooner rather than later, before this place took even more a toll on him.

“There is no one else here that I am aware of,” Jun answers. “As soon as I appeared I knew you were here and that I must find you and bring you in the right direction. You were going the wrong way.”

“It was very warm,” Ohno remembers, “that room with the sunlight.”

“Ohno-kun, you must never go into the light,” Jun warns him sternly. He stops to look pointedly at Ohno, and it seems for a moment that his eyes flash purple, but then they return to that dark brown that is distinctly Jun. “Promise me that you will never go into the light. If you do, it's all over.”

Ohno's brows pinch in confusion, but he relents. “I promise.”

8.

Matsujun stops in the middle of a bright blue room, a shade unlike any that Ohno has ever seen before. It reminds him of acrylic paint straight from the tube, but it's not quite right; that's the closest his mind can compare it to. It floods over the walls and the ceiling, stopping only at the floorboards, which are a lightly stained wood and gleam under a lighting that doesn't seem to come from anywhere at all.

He's led to the middle of the room and positioned to stop with Matsujun's hands on his shoulders, holding him still. “This is where we make our exit, Ohno-kun,” Jun explains with a wide smile, all toothy and gleeful. It isn't a smile that Ohno sees often on his friend, but it's one that he cherishes the most in his memories. “We just have to wait patiently and the exit will appear shortly.”

Ohno nods happily. He can't wait to get back to the real world and his boat and his mom, Mina and the baby. His hands are itching to mix colors - the very ones he's seen on these strange walls, so he can't be entirely regretful that he was made to come here in the first place... wherever here is.

“Matsujun, do you know what this place is called?” Ohno asks as they wait.

“Some call it the waiting area,” Jun answers immediately, his voice taking on a cryptic tone. “But that's not entirely right. Only certain people are allowed access and then they must find their own way out.”

“Oh.” Ohno's glad Jun knows what's going on, because it's been nothing but mystery for him since the moment he'd woken up in the white room. He's perfectly happy to let someone else take the reigns though.

“You do trust me,” Jun says and it's eery how close he is to Ohno's thoughts. “You trust me, don't you? I'll take you out of this place.”

Ohno nods. “I trust Matsujun.”

There's that smile again - wide and sparkling. Jun holds his arms out and Ohno steps in without hesitation, winding his own around Jun's taller frame. He buries his face in the fabric of Jun's shirt and feels Jun's arms around him. It's so comfortable that he could just melt like crayons over an open flame. He'd done that once - so long ago, just to see what would happen. Ohno closes his eyes and lets the picture take over, purple and blue dripping together on the paper to create something new.

He can't move his arms, but he really doesn't want to in the first place, so he relaxes further into the hold. Jun is so very warm even though this place has no temperature at all. He can't remember being cold or hot while he was walking with Nino - but now he feels a light at his heart and a contentment that only comes from Jun.

“I'm so glad I found you,” Jun whispers into his hair. “Now we can be together forever.”

Ohno's brows come down again. He knows Matsujun holds a love for shoujo manga, but he's never heard the younger man ever use such cliched expressions. And to say it with such intensity was rather embarrassing. He tries to pull back, just long enough to peer up at Jun's face, but can't. His face is stuck to Jun's shirt, and when he tries to distance himself further, he feels his skin being pulled tight like tar or taffy and Jun's arms tightening around his shoulders to hold him in place.

“Don't try to escape, Ohno-kun,” Jun tells him. “Just stay here with me and we'll be together through the end. It'll be alright because you're with me.”

“The end?” Ohno says, but the folds of Jun’s shirt muffle his voice. “What do you mean the end? I thought you were going to take me out of this place.”

“I am.” Jun tightens his grip again and it's as though Ohno can't breathe. He opens his eyes enough to see up and past Jun's arm, startling when the walls begin to sludge downward like the dirty ooze of the red room. “I'm going to take us out of this world and every other world - into the nothingness, into the void.”

Ohno freezes; suddenly it's apparent why Nino kept accusing him of not being real. “You're not Jun,” he says and tries his best to push away. He feels thick, slow and sluggish. “You're not my Matsujun.”

“I am the Matsujun created from your memories,” not-Jun tells him. “I am your perfect Matsujun. Isn't this the best way to die? Being held by someone you love?”

“You're not really Matsujun though,” Ohno says almost breathlessly. He still can't move and his arms are trapped in place around a Jun that is not. He's scared and tired and his eyes water just enough that tears start to slip past without his own consent. “You're not my friend. I hate you.”

“No you don't,” not-Jun says with a light, teasing reprimand. Even if he's not, parts of him are still acting like the real Jun. “You love me because I remind you of the real world, of the real Jun. Let it go and love me into nothingness.”

Not-Jun presses a kiss to the top of Ohno's head and begins to sing, the reverberations spreading through Ohno's body. The voice that carries it isn't Jun's own tone-deaf crackling, but that of his mother, soft and light - a lullaby that she sang to him as a child. It lulls Ohno still, though the tears still pour and the ooze still spreads all around them. He can see the stars now, glittering in existence millions of miles away, and he wonders if this is what they mean by your life flashing in front of your eyes.

The singing stops and Jun speaks - the last thing he'll ever say. “Let's go together.”

And then Ohno is ripped back, pulled away from Jun with a force that leaves him stinging all over, like part of his own skin has just been torn away from his body. He looks up through blurry eyes to see Nino, shining and furious as he raises the metal pole in his hands and brings it down swiftly over Jun's head.

Jun falls at their feet and there is blood, so much blood that pours from his mouth and his ears. His irises turn purple and he continues to sing that same song in Ohno's mother's voice before his eyes roll back in his head and it fades to a whisper.

“Let's go,” Nino says tightly. He pulls Ohno to the door just before the darkness can envelop them whole.

9.

Ohno can't help the way his hand shakes, even as it's grasped in Nino's; his whole body is trembling, the image of Matsujun's bloody face forever burned into his memory. “He wasn't real,” Nino tells him every so often. “He wasn't your friend.” Ohno knows this better than anyone, but it's still not easy to digest.

He can't reply, his mouth barely open as hot, humid breath escapes his parted lips. There's a numbness that settles over his limbs, and he trips over his own feet as Nino pulls him along.

They're down the hallway again, all cold gray metal and abstract sculptures. Ohno sees the door he thinks leads them back to the sunshine room, but Nino pulls him past to the end of the hall where another arched doorway sits. “I think you should have a rest for a while,” Nino says as he opens the door and pushes Ohno through. “It won't find us in here.”

Ohno blinks. It looks like the same safe zone as before - the same chairs and walls, but everything looks a bit darker than before. The shades are ghosted over with something dreary and he looks up to see a cloudy sky above them, rain threatening to spill down from great, dark heights. He hadn't paid any attention to the ceiling (or lack thereof) last time he was here, but the sudden weather above them seems to suit his mood just fine.

Nino sits and pulls Ohno down next to him in the very same chair. They're oversized and comfy, so there's more than enough room for them to sit back and relax. Ohno doesn't comment when Nino wraps an arm around his shoulders, tugging him close until the sides of their heads come into contact and they're leaning into one another. “We'll stay here until the clouds pass,” Nino explains. “And until you're okay again, Oh-chan.”

Ohno nods just a bit, trying to ease the voice in his mind that asks if he'll ever truly be okay again. Then he sees Jun's face again, lifeless at his feet, bright purple eyes rolled back into his skull; matted hair caked with blood that barely covers an indent where Nino's metal pole had crashed into him. He wonders just how easy it is for Nino to determine who to kill and who not. Ohno certainly couldn't have done it.

“Could you have done that to me?” Ohno asks suddenly. He feels Nino startle next to him, but doesn't move away. “You didn't think I was real,” he continues. “You kept saying I couldn't be real.”

Nino breathes in deeply beside him, but Ohno doesn't look to see what's written across his face. He doesn't think he could bear to. The question isn't fair. “I could have,” Nino answers honestly. “There are a lot of tricks played here - things that it does to draw us near. But there was something about you that was so real. You weren't looking for anyone, and you seemed to talk about your life in a way that couldn't have just come out of someone else's memories.”

“Matsujun kept asking me if I could remember things.”

Ohno feels Nino nod slightly beside him as they stare at the chair across from them and the wood paneling on the wall just beyond that. “Because it made him out of your memories. That was all he knew - that and the need to take you to it.”

“Are we the only real people here?” Ohno doesn't think to ask whether Nino is real or not; it simply doesn't cross his mind.

“There are others,” Nino says. His hold becomes a bit more loose, letting go of Ohno's shoulder and bringing his hand up to play at the fine hairs of Ohno's nape absently, as though he doesn't realize what he's doing at all. “But this place is so large, and always changing, that it's odd to run into someone who's actually real. There are more memories than actual people in this place - a dozen memories for every real person.”

Ohno shudders violently and his eyes close, but he can't bear to keep them as such. Every time his lids drop, he sees Matsujun's face again. “You're saying there could be other people I know out there... my mom, my dad.”

Nino doesn't say anything, but there's no need to; Ohno already knows the answer.

10.

The clouds don't clear away anytime soon. Rather, they seem to get darker and darker as Ohno's sadness deepens. Maybe it's just his perception of them, maybe it's a link of some sort, but he begins to wonder if he'll ever see the sunlight again. He longs for the blue skies and the open sea, for faces of familiar people, but he's scared to go out. He's scared of what he might find. It all seems rather hopeless.

Droplets begin to pour down from the ceiling that is not there, one at a time until finally the torrent is released and there's hardly any place to see around them. Ohno can't feel it - his skin, his clothes, nothing gets wet - but he can see it all around them.

Nino shifts and sighs next to him, their hands now intertwined between them. “There's no reason for all this, you know,” he says and Ohno looks to him, eyes blinking in confusion. Something in his tone says that the rain is Ohno's doing, but Ohno can't see how or why. “Your friends, your family, they're all waiting for you in the real world.”

“But there's also fake ones,” Ohno counters quietly. He can barely hear his own voice above the heavy precipitation. “If we run across any more you'll have to kill them. I don't know if I can handle seeing that again.”

Nino squeezes his hand. “It's hard, yeah. But if we're ever gonna get out of here, you'll have to face it head on.”

Ohno knows he's right. If he wants to see Jun, his parents, Mina and the baby again, he's going to need a greater kind of resolve. Still, there's no shame in taking a little more time to rest.

They remain still, letting the rain fall around them.

(Part 2)