(no subject)
☣retrograde.
G | N/A | 872
Sometimes he catches himself wishing things ended differently: that he managed to realize Amada and Shinji would be together; that he had been there in time to stop Takaya from pulling the trigger; that Shinji would still be here and-- By the time he gets to that part, he shakes his head to get rid of the thought, well aware of the fact that Shinji would punch him in the face for dwelling on it for too long. But still it's a matter of I know it won't change a thing versus what if this happened instead?
What if, what if; it's a neverending game of circles and lying to yourself, because you know he's never coming back, and you know you have to accept that, and you know you said the truth when you told the kid that you're on your own now. And sometimes he just wants to ask why, but he couldn't bring himself to follow through, because he's too busy moving on with life and never looking back. That's what Shinji would've wanted, right? Don't think about what's happened in the past and just keep your head on your shoulders. It's a waste of time to think about shit you can't beat up.
"Right," and following that is a split-second broken look, "That's right."
There's no way he can fight death, or at least, the one that took everything that mattered, and as he said to the rest of them, and to himself ('cause maybe he just wanted to convince himself one more time), Shinji faced death head-on with no regrets, so he was going to do it too. Let things go, and don't hang on. But there was a part of him that went by unnoticed, or maybe he knew it was there but just didn't bother to do anything about it, because as the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months, he still finds himself thinking about Shinji, mentioning Shinji's name, and just--
There's a part of him that can't let go.
And maybe that's why whenever he's training in Tartarus or even inside his own room, his punches get more intense with every hit, and the words coming out of his mouth get just a tad bit more desperate. He never misses a chance to ask if Shinji saw that when he gets the last hit, or if Shinji could overlook the fact that he just got knocked out, and sometimes he even goes as far as to say that he's now fighting for him too. So even though he says tells everyone that Shinji would've wanted them all to move on, even though he says he's okay, you know he's not quite there yet.
But what else did you expect to happen?
It used to be all about power, and having the slick confidence in himself that he's strong enough to take the enemy down, but since Shinji passed away, he stopped believing that he could protect anyone if that was all he had to offer. He already lost Miki, and he tried to atone for that by getting stronger, but now this happens, and Shinji's gone too. Now what? Plan A didn't work, so he should go for Plan B, right? But here's the catch.
What's Plan B?
He's standing in the middle of Shinji's room, staring at the box where he carefully put all of the stuff Minato lent Shinji during the time he was still alive. The contents remain untouched, and for that, he's almost thankful, but that's not why he's here right now. All that thinking and rationalizing in his head just led him here. His thoughts were a mess, and he doesn't look like he knows why he's here either, but he finds himself going inside Shinji's room a lot. Just to talk, just to reminsce, just to get his head cleared up-- do just about anything he could think of.
It was routine when Shinji was still around, so why can't it be routine now?
"Hey," he starts, and he knows it's kind of stupid to be talking to thin air, but-- "What should I do now, Shinji?" He can't help it. And while he waits for an answer that will never come, his feet are suddenly moving towards the bed, where upon reaching it, his body gives up and he finds himself sitting beside it, his head resting on the mattress while his eyes are locked on the blank ceiling. He doesn't know what else he could do, and that's why he's asking Shinji right now.
But he doesn't get an answer, and he can't bring himself to make one up either.
"Hey, Shinji. I think I'll sleep here tonight," and there's a pause in his words and suddenly he's laughing to himself, but it's not all that happy.
"... yeah, yeah. I know." He stands up, reaching for his jacket that lay discarded on Shinji's bed, getting ready to leave. Akihiko glances around the place one last time before asking, "This is stupid too.. right?" He doesn't even wait to see if he'd get a reply, because now he's right back to the frame of mind that says he's okay. He's gonna be okay.
title. Retrograde
genre. Drama.
rating. G.
characters. Sanada Akihiko; Persona 3.
warnings. Spoilers for October Full Moon.
wordcount. 872.
notes. First P3 fic. Might be a little shaky, but I tried my best.
disclaimer. Bodies, limbs, thoughts, &things aren't mine. I just pull the strings &stay on the sidelines, 'cause that's where the puppeteer belongs when her dolls are strutting all over the stage.
synopsis. A little introspection never hurt anyone, right?
G | N/A | 872
Sometimes he catches himself wishing things ended differently: that he managed to realize Amada and Shinji would be together; that he had been there in time to stop Takaya from pulling the trigger; that Shinji would still be here and-- By the time he gets to that part, he shakes his head to get rid of the thought, well aware of the fact that Shinji would punch him in the face for dwelling on it for too long. But still it's a matter of I know it won't change a thing versus what if this happened instead?
What if, what if; it's a neverending game of circles and lying to yourself, because you know he's never coming back, and you know you have to accept that, and you know you said the truth when you told the kid that you're on your own now. And sometimes he just wants to ask why, but he couldn't bring himself to follow through, because he's too busy moving on with life and never looking back. That's what Shinji would've wanted, right? Don't think about what's happened in the past and just keep your head on your shoulders. It's a waste of time to think about shit you can't beat up.
"Right," and following that is a split-second broken look, "That's right."
There's no way he can fight death, or at least, the one that took everything that mattered, and as he said to the rest of them, and to himself ('cause maybe he just wanted to convince himself one more time), Shinji faced death head-on with no regrets, so he was going to do it too. Let things go, and don't hang on. But there was a part of him that went by unnoticed, or maybe he knew it was there but just didn't bother to do anything about it, because as the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months, he still finds himself thinking about Shinji, mentioning Shinji's name, and just--
There's a part of him that can't let go.
And maybe that's why whenever he's training in Tartarus or even inside his own room, his punches get more intense with every hit, and the words coming out of his mouth get just a tad bit more desperate. He never misses a chance to ask if Shinji saw that when he gets the last hit, or if Shinji could overlook the fact that he just got knocked out, and sometimes he even goes as far as to say that he's now fighting for him too. So even though he says tells everyone that Shinji would've wanted them all to move on, even though he says he's okay, you know he's not quite there yet.
But what else did you expect to happen?
It used to be all about power, and having the slick confidence in himself that he's strong enough to take the enemy down, but since Shinji passed away, he stopped believing that he could protect anyone if that was all he had to offer. He already lost Miki, and he tried to atone for that by getting stronger, but now this happens, and Shinji's gone too. Now what? Plan A didn't work, so he should go for Plan B, right? But here's the catch.
What's Plan B?
He's standing in the middle of Shinji's room, staring at the box where he carefully put all of the stuff Minato lent Shinji during the time he was still alive. The contents remain untouched, and for that, he's almost thankful, but that's not why he's here right now. All that thinking and rationalizing in his head just led him here. His thoughts were a mess, and he doesn't look like he knows why he's here either, but he finds himself going inside Shinji's room a lot. Just to talk, just to reminsce, just to get his head cleared up-- do just about anything he could think of.
It was routine when Shinji was still around, so why can't it be routine now?
"Hey," he starts, and he knows it's kind of stupid to be talking to thin air, but-- "What should I do now, Shinji?" He can't help it. And while he waits for an answer that will never come, his feet are suddenly moving towards the bed, where upon reaching it, his body gives up and he finds himself sitting beside it, his head resting on the mattress while his eyes are locked on the blank ceiling. He doesn't know what else he could do, and that's why he's asking Shinji right now.
But he doesn't get an answer, and he can't bring himself to make one up either.
"Hey, Shinji. I think I'll sleep here tonight," and there's a pause in his words and suddenly he's laughing to himself, but it's not all that happy.
"... yeah, yeah. I know." He stands up, reaching for his jacket that lay discarded on Shinji's bed, getting ready to leave. Akihiko glances around the place one last time before asking, "This is stupid too.. right?" He doesn't even wait to see if he'd get a reply, because now he's right back to the frame of mind that says he's okay. He's gonna be okay.
title. Retrograde
genre. Drama.
rating. G.
characters. Sanada Akihiko; Persona 3.
warnings. Spoilers for October Full Moon.
wordcount. 872.
notes. First P3 fic. Might be a little shaky, but I tried my best.
disclaimer. Bodies, limbs, thoughts, &things aren't mine. I just pull the strings &stay on the sidelines, 'cause that's where the puppeteer belongs when her dolls are strutting all over the stage.
synopsis. A little introspection never hurt anyone, right?