[The only part of Oboro's past he'd cared to hold on to had followed him to Hell. His teacher's smile, the man's gentle yet firm voice, the way they both learned about the world together, those things were all with him once more.
The rest could stay rotting in the dirt, for all he cared.
Oboro balked when Josh spoke. The accusation that he could do such a grand thing of his own will shook him at his core. But he stayed quiet and listened none the less, following the thread of Josh's loosely wound argument.
Rebuttals began to form in his mind. Oboro would agree that it wasn't a crime to grant a request - even one to end an anguishing life. But that didn't mean people were free. Fate had simply mandated that person to die, and the method was of no consequence.
But Oboro could feel Josh's words sinking in, through the guard of his arguments. He'd seen his teacher fighting fate, and just maybe, he'd been engulfed by that fantasy. So he couldn't bring himself to tell Josh he was wrong. But that didn't mean he could agree, either.
Oboro shook his head.] You can say that, but without fate- [His bottom lip curled into his mouth, a nameless emotion suppressed.] I wouldn't have been strong enough to do what I did without believing [His breath caught.] Knowing. That it was my fate to die.
He reaches out to squeeze Oboro's arm. Josh doesn't have it in him to keep talking about this right now — not when his feelings were so raw just a few minutes ago. This is something he wants to discuss with the kid, not argue about.]
Whatever you need from me, I'll help you.
[If his judgement day arrives anytime soon, and he winds up being granted entrance to Heaven — a possibility Josh is still rooting for, despite Oboro saying he wants to stay in Hell — then he'll make sure the kid can stay down here for as long as he likes.]
[He could feel his breath hitching, feelings he'd been trying so hard to swallow nearly overslowing. Josh's grip on his arm was like a blow to his chest - he didn't deserve this support. He knew that if he opened his mouth now, he wouldn't be able to form words.
So instead he nodded, attempting and failing a smile.
And then he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the man not to give another hug, but to receive one. Oboro let his face press into the fabric of Josh's shirt and squeezed his eyes shut. To keep himself together.
After the rise and fall of his chest calmed, he'd reply.] Thank you.
[Josh knows that look. He's seen it on his own face, watery eyes staring back at him in the mirror; he's felt the same twist and pull in his own chest, that very same inability to speak.
He hates it.
He hates seeing Oboro wear it even more.
His arms are out as soon as the kid leans toward him, and the embrace that follows is strong, firm, and warm, both sympathetic and reassuring. It's then that his memory flashes, lights up like a summer storm and lands him back in the living room of his childhood home, back in his mother's arms, the scene exactly like this one right here, right now. Except he was younger than Oboro is now, and he hadn't yet learned the fine art of keeping himself together, and he hadn't understood what death even meant aside from that his sister wouldn't be around anymore.]
Yeah.
[Josh tilts his head to lean his cheek against Oboro's hair and does the same: breathes until the pang in his chest has dulled, until his eyes don't feel quite so wet.]
[The gentle reassurances, the tight grip, the place to nestle his head - Oboro clung to it all with aching shoulders. He was selfish, languishing in such a gesture. But, despite the guilt, it helped.
Maybe Oboro had just wanted the chance to cry. Maybe he'd just needed to feel like it was okay, to have a strong embrace keeping him upright in case his knees buckled. It was strange - the one moment he was safe to sob was also the moment it was easiest to calm himself down.
As time passed and the throbbing behind his eyes dulled, Oboro pulled away with a deep breath. His second attempt at a smile was more successful than the first.]
I'm happy- [He knew he didn't look it, but even though his smile was bittersweet, he found it easy to wear.] -that you came. [That he met you.]
[It's almost a surprise to Josh, how this scene unfolds. Despite the familiarity, despite him doing almost exactly the same thing as his mother held him in their old living room, he's still taken aback by the tears.
Not in a bad way, though. It's almost a relief. He'd probably have walked away from this encounter thinking, otherwise, that Oboro didn't trust him anymore, that he thought Josh was possibly a creep, that he'd take this as his sign to build a wall between them just to protect himself.
So Josh is happy, too, even if he feels incredibly sad.]
[When Oboro raised a hand to wipe at his irritated eye, he felt something wet. He looked down at Josh's shirt, and even though he knew, it was still strange to see the dark splotches he'd left behind.
He couldn't quite put together how he felt-] Mmhm. [Oboro nodded, because through the haze of regret and guilt and companionship and warmth, he felt lighter.
Oboro had never wanted to rely on anyone. The walls he'd built up were there to protect others, not himself. He wasn't ready to tear them down, but he knew - through hiding in his office and being held in his arms - that Josh would be there for him.
[If Oboro noticed anything different about Josh's eyes, he didn't show it. He breathed a deep, comfortable sigh when Josh squeezed his shoulders, and watched the man stand. From here, he couldn't quite make out the little wet spots.
Maybe they'd started to dry.]
Yes. [Oboro nodded. Josh was a busy man, and there was nothing left to say - they'd understood each other.] I am too. [Glad, and appreciative. He didn't want to over saturate Josh with gratitude, though, so he swallowed his thanks.]
Have a good evening. [Taking the doorknob into his hand, Oboro moved just a few small steps back into his hotel room. He wanted to see Josh leave before he shut the door.]
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The rest could stay rotting in the dirt, for all he cared.
Oboro balked when Josh spoke. The accusation that he could do such a grand thing of his own will shook him at his core. But he stayed quiet and listened none the less, following the thread of Josh's loosely wound argument.
Rebuttals began to form in his mind. Oboro would agree that it wasn't a crime to grant a request - even one to end an anguishing life. But that didn't mean people were free. Fate had simply mandated that person to die, and the method was of no consequence.
But Oboro could feel Josh's words sinking in, through the guard of his arguments. He'd seen his teacher fighting fate, and just maybe, he'd been engulfed by that fantasy. So he couldn't bring himself to tell Josh he was wrong. But that didn't mean he could agree, either.
Oboro shook his head.] You can say that, but without fate- [His bottom lip curled into his mouth, a nameless emotion suppressed.] I wouldn't have been strong enough to do what I did without believing [His breath caught.] Knowing. That it was my fate to die.
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He reaches out to squeeze Oboro's arm. Josh doesn't have it in him to keep talking about this right now — not when his feelings were so raw just a few minutes ago. This is something he wants to discuss with the kid, not argue about.]
Whatever you need from me, I'll help you.
[If his judgement day arrives anytime soon, and he winds up being granted entrance to Heaven — a possibility Josh is still rooting for, despite Oboro saying he wants to stay in Hell — then he'll make sure the kid can stay down here for as long as he likes.]
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So instead he nodded, attempting and failing a smile.
And then he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the man not to give another hug, but to receive one. Oboro let his face press into the fabric of Josh's shirt and squeezed his eyes shut. To keep himself together.
After the rise and fall of his chest calmed, he'd reply.] Thank you.
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He hates it.
He hates seeing Oboro wear it even more.
His arms are out as soon as the kid leans toward him, and the embrace that follows is strong, firm, and warm, both sympathetic and reassuring. It's then that his memory flashes, lights up like a summer storm and lands him back in the living room of his childhood home, back in his mother's arms, the scene exactly like this one right here, right now. Except he was younger than Oboro is now, and he hadn't yet learned the fine art of keeping himself together, and he hadn't understood what death even meant aside from that his sister wouldn't be around anymore.]
Yeah.
[Josh tilts his head to lean his cheek against Oboro's hair and does the same: breathes until the pang in his chest has dulled, until his eyes don't feel quite so wet.]
...yeah.
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Maybe Oboro had just wanted the chance to cry. Maybe he'd just needed to feel like it was okay, to have a strong embrace keeping him upright in case his knees buckled. It was strange - the one moment he was safe to sob was also the moment it was easiest to calm himself down.
As time passed and the throbbing behind his eyes dulled, Oboro pulled away with a deep breath. His second attempt at a smile was more successful than the first.]
I'm happy- [He knew he didn't look it, but even though his smile was bittersweet, he found it easy to wear.] -that you came. [That he met you.]
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Not in a bad way, though. It's almost a relief. He'd probably have walked away from this encounter thinking, otherwise, that Oboro didn't trust him anymore, that he thought Josh was possibly a creep, that he'd take this as his sign to build a wall between them just to protect himself.
So Josh is happy, too, even if he feels incredibly sad.]
Me too. You okay?
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He couldn't quite put together how he felt-] Mmhm. [Oboro nodded, because through the haze of regret and guilt and companionship and warmth, he felt lighter.
Oboro had never wanted to rely on anyone. The walls he'd built up were there to protect others, not himself. He wasn't ready to tear them down, but he knew - through hiding in his office and being held in his arms - that Josh would be there for him.
It made him feel safe.]
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[He pulls away himself, finally, and gives Oboro's shoulders one final squeeze before the contact is fully broken.
Josh will ignore the wet spots on his shirt if Oboro ignores the fact that Josh's eyes are a little redder than they were when he showed up.
He stands.]
I need to head back to the office, but — I'm, uh... glad we had this talk.
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Maybe they'd started to dry.]
Yes. [Oboro nodded. Josh was a busy man, and there was nothing left to say - they'd understood each other.] I am too. [Glad, and appreciative. He didn't want to over saturate Josh with gratitude, though, so he swallowed his thanks.]
Have a good evening. [Taking the doorknob into his hand, Oboro moved just a few small steps back into his hotel room. He wanted to see Josh leave before he shut the door.]
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[Josh offers one last small smile before turning on his heel and heading back the way he came, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he goes.]