Archive of Our Own ^beta

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    The stifling heat feels like a wool blanket that’s collapsed over all of this small town, suffocating everyone in it. Especially him.

    Nagisa feels like cotton’s been shoved in his lungs, cramped up in that musty, dark room, but he makes no attempt to move from his spot on the bed. Bloodshot blue eyes creep from one corner of the room to another, and slender pale arms are folded over his knees, in a trancelike state. The heat doesn’t leave any room for thinking, and though his expression implies contemplation, his mind’s devoid of thought. There’s only a blurred silhouette, and a daunting concept left by a ghost that leaves him trembling slightly despite the heat.  The memory tries to solidify itself, but Nagisa squeezes his eyes his eyes tight and shakes his head wildly to prevent it from coming into focus. In a moment of desperation, he pushes himself up from the bed and makes slowly ambles his way out of his room and into the foyer. His mother’s eyes widen slightly as she sees him pass her by without a second glance, but says nothing as her son opens the front door and walks out onto the porch as if everything is alright again.

    The air is dusty and suffocating, and the sun beats down harshly on the back of his neck, but he’s grateful for the distraction. The dirt road he ambles down is completely empty, leaving him to his lack of thought. He’s been painfully distant with his friends, anyhow, quiet and staring out into space, more like an animated corpse than a person. Everything feels almost surreal, like the sound of a crackling, disfigured voice on the other end of a phone call with poor connection. Nagisa could screamed at them if he wanted, but he didn’t think it would make any difference. It was all a waste of energy. Gazing into a stretch of wheat fields distorted by the heat’s glare, he feels like he’s watching the cutscene of a videogame that plays after the main character dies. You can no longer interact, only watch the events unfold before you.

His eyes are dull and watery despite the glow of the afternoon. The feeling still breathes down the back of his neck, waiting for him to make a decision.

It’s been four months. He decides to remember.

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He was like an uncontrollable forest fire, a burning mess that destroyed everything he touched yet was so beautiful in all his corruption, so mesmerizing.

Nagisa memorized the way that his vibrant crimson hair fell into his eyes and the scuffs on his ratty sneakers-Falling in love was inevitable, though he had no idea at the time. Karma seemed to understand him better than he did himself, and Nagisa didn’t know how to feel about it, knowing that Karma was how he was. There was a mutual connection between them that neither quite understood but didn’t question, they simply let themselves be drawn to each other like moths to flames, unfazed when one would show up at the other’s door in the ungodly hours. Their companionship didn’t need common bonds, just tired nods and a shared feeling that seemed to dwell inside both of them and was too much to bear alone.
    Karma was a reckless child by nature, a walking disaster if there ever was one. Everyone seemed to fear him and certainly nobody trusted him, but he was either oblivious to this or managed to flawlessly not give a fuck. He lived with his grandparents, as his mother had passed and his father was too busy to care for a child; it was always an odd sight to see him and his devil’s smirk sitting on a rotting white rocking chair in his grandparents’ cottage of a property. Yet he never seemed out of place to Nagisa. He just stood out more, that was all.

And he stood out everywhere, really, because he chose to. He would direct all attention onto himself or die trying, as Nagisa used to put it, because when he would come home soaked from head to toe in his own blood and bruised to hell and back, Nagisa could’ve sworn that was what he was trying to do. He wouldn't have put it past Karma, anyhow: He always talked about death with this strange detachment, like it was something that couldn’t truly hold him.

Nagisa laughs softly at the irony of that thought.

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The nights got cooler as winter crept up behind them; Nagisa remembers being grateful for the cool breezes coming through his window at night. They reminded him that he was still alive.

And maybe that was the reason he was always drawn to Karma: he always found himself searching for the things that made him feel, that broke through the numb haze that settled after his mother landed another blow on his jaw and stormed out of the room, leaving him to his own thoughts. His mind was a mirror image of her now, it repeated the cutting words she spoke like a broken record hours after she was asleep, like a twisted lullaby. Hating himself was a coping method or sorts. Now the words couldn’t sting like the bleeding did. The only problem was now thrill was a thing of the past. So he did what any teenager in his situation would’ve done: He went searching for emotional highs, not caring if they were good or bad.

Vibrant red seemed to break through the haze easily, and he found himself cackling at little things and smiling at the sight of anything bright and warm, anything that resembled him. Or on the edge of tears, but it never mattered which. He was connected to someone else, he felt. And that was good.

He burst into the living room; Nagisa sat on the couch, waiting for him. His big blue eyes were morose and bored at the same time as he surveyed Karma’s cut up face-They looked so glassy in the moonlight. He walked into the kitchen, suddenly overwhelmed by thought that had only been subtle. Nagisa followed.

Before this moment he had tried to be the same: To act like him, talk like him, to make himself similar in order to incite him, but nothing seemed to work. Smothering the terrible instincts that rolled inside of him for no reason was difficult and frustrating, and he had spilled over and provoked someone again, desperate for that rush that came upon seeing an aggravated face. He’d never succeed at familiarizing himself at this rate.

So he figured, hell, if he couldn’t be the same as Nagisa, he’d be the horrible opposite. All that unwavering goodness needed a terrible, selfish, petty balancing force, after all.

Karma tasted like blood.

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Addiction is a somewhat cliched way to describe one’s feelings for another person, but Nagisa feels it is the most honest explanation of his relationship with Karma. He was the only person that seemed to have a clear outline in a world where everything was fuzzy, the only thing that was certain. The world could fall at his feet, but there would still be the reassuring and intimidating presence that smelled strongly of spices behind him, tethering him to this hellhole of cracked sidewalks and smashed windows. The air was muggy that season, even through the bitter cold, and parents walked with their whining children holding fast to their waists like leeches, as if to protect them from something that wandered the streets at night. Nagisa used to wonder if it was them that made them clutch up their toddlers protectively while they walked, two teenagers with scruffy, bright hair messy jeans and loose jackets that flapped in the wind. He always felt dangerous with Karma-not necessarily intimidating, but something toxic by nature.

Slowly he began to crave the crackling of dead leaves in the back yard that signified Karma’s return and the eventual messy, collision of their lips as he was pushed into the back wall or the couch or wherever was closest. There was a comfort in the sloppy, rushed pace of their love, something that made Nagisa purr in delight as strong hands roamed him-with anyone else he would’ve slapped them away in fear. They never called themselves lovers, but there was something there that neither seemed to want to label, only revel in the mutant beauty of it all. It was if as they felt if they tried to make sense of it that it would slip away as fast as it had come. Nagisa preferred the lack of distinguishment, anyhow. It made the entire experience feel more thrilling.

Words were hardly exchanged the moments died, but when they were either meaningless or too straightforward. They would prattle about the smell of the room or how insignificant they felt in the face of the world. Nagisa’s eyes would often lose focus as the feeling of detachment suddenly overwhelm him and he would begin to shake as his mind returned to his fears, but Karma would pull him back just as easily as he had left, lion tamer forcing the beast back into its cage. He didn’t fear Nagisa’s unpredictable tremors, and Nagisa didn’t fear his flashes of anger and hot tears.

They didn’t fix each other. But they tolerated each other.

And it was good.

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The fights were always disastrous, but this was more. He should’ve known.

Something had tainted that smug even further, murky brown water had turned pitch black as the taunts became violent and he was set off increasingly easier. Nagisa’s heart would twist at the strained noises Karma would make as wet towels went over crimson flaws on pale skin. He acted like a rabid wolf trapped in a cage, pacing and mumbling and alert, always alert. His golden irises were glowing pinpoints shining through his bangs, like a flashlight on a gun. Nagisa felt like he was watching Rome crumble at his feet.

He was more protective than ever, throwing punches at the people that poked fun at Nagisa’s hair and shoving people into walls for the smallest of things. He rambled on and on about being trapped, about his inability to do anything in this hellhole of a town but watch the world unfold before his eyes. So he tore up this town, ripped his prison up from the ground in hopes that he might escape and somehow regain a lost ability to alter the larger environment, for he seemed so deeply agitated that one might believe he had lost a sense.

Nagisa felt he was in charge of the maintaining of a large and rabid beast, watching his crimson beauty pacing his room four hours on end, occasionally pausing to slam his fist against the plaster or wring his hands together. There was a weariness that shone through his eyes, restless as he was-The shadows under his eyes and the frail quality showcased his fatigue in a way he couldn't hide, but Nagisa never dared mention it. If Karma told him he was strong, then Karma was strong, no questioning it. Arguing against such a force of nature was a death wish, especially one with so much power over him.

A feeling of guilt swells in Nagisa's chest at the thought.

Perhaps if he had been braver, he could have saved him from himself.

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His breath came in uneven gasps as he sprinted down the poorly lit streets in a desperate rush to find him.

His voice was cracked and hoarse as he screamed the other’s name fearfully, scrambling between alleyways where he was sure to be dwelling, terrified. His vision was blurry and red and his heart slammed against his ribcage wildly in an attempt to escape to escape its prison as his sneakers collided with the pavement, occasionally causing him to stumble. FInally, after hours of anguished searching, he heard a heartless laugh echo off of the brick walls to his left, and his eyes flew to the crumpled figure, lying at the mercy of the dim, cursed environment. A boy beaten down by his natural domain.

Nagisa ran to him, ignoring the screeching laughter of the demons who had done this. He didn’t care. Villians were as solid as shadows in this damned town. Revenge was useless, an insignificant attempt to fix a deep injustice that was petty in nature and never made anything different. Neosporin on a stab wound. He’d learned that years ago.

Tear rolled down from his eyes as he stared down at Karma’s broken form, the red essence that poured from deep holes in his skin, coating him in his color. His golden eyes were dull and unfocused and blurry with tears that streaked down his paling skin and mixed with the crimson splotches. A damaged hand came up and clutched a flawless one, and the demon had the audacity to try and smile, but found he couldn’t, and instead coughed up a sizable amount of blood, crying out in pain. Nagisa let out a strained sob and clutched Karma’s face in one hand; the other fumbled for his cell phone. Karma saw him remove it from his pocket and pushed his hand down, shaking his head. Nagisa knew what he wanted, but ignored him.

“Sorry, Karma, I’m going to be selfish.” He lamented, picking up the phone and holding it to his ear, his hands trembling.

Karma frowned and slapped the phone away. “No, Nagisa, I’m going to be selfish. I’m the one dying here, goddammit.” His voice was strained and racked with constant sobs, but he was clearly trying to remain composed. “Please d-don’t...Ignore me…”

“I’m not!” Nagisa protested, taking Karma in his arms and pressing his face into his shoulder. “But I want you to live, o-k-kay?” He trembled as he braced himself for the reply that he knew was coming.

A low chuckle escaped Karma’s lips. “Nagisa…” He breathed, blinking slowly. “You are seeing my condition, right?”

A sob escaped Nagisa’s tight lips at the words. “...Of course I see. I just-At least let me pretend I can save you! Let me try, at the least-!” He was breaking down in a dying boy’s embrace, collapsing entirely at his inability to do anything for the one who had done so much.

“Nagisa… Nagisa…” Karma cooed, stroking Nagisa’s bangs away from his eyes. “Hey… You’ll be okay.”

Nagisa gritted his teeth, trembling, eyes squeezed shut. “...How dare you.” His blue eyes burned like ghostly fire as tears fell one after the other onto the asphalt. “-HOW DARE YOU! I-after everything that’s happened-you just-” He slammed his fist on the concrete in fury, seething yet unable to look Karma in the eye. “Are you abandoning me, after all this? Is this some sort of sick, cowardly attempt at suicide? Did you just--Provoke someone to the point of killing you so you wouldn’t have to do it yourself? Karma-I--” HE choked wildly, unable to form words. Blue met golden once again, and he let out a groan of pain.  “ WHY?! ”

Tears rolled down Karma’s cheeks, and yet he still held onto a ghost of a smile. “I’ve never been sure. But I’m not scared, Nagisa…” He lied.

“I’m never scared...Don’t forget that.”  

Nagisa placed a shaky kiss on his lips as he watched the life drain from his lover’s beautiful eyes.

“...See you, Nagisa.”