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That evening was particularly cold.
As his fingers went through ivory keys in a delicate rhythm, he couldn’t help but feel a small shiver go up his back, making him cringe slightly but not cease his playing.
Not yet.
After all, he was doing a small good.
The stress of regaining his memories had taken a toll on him to the point of feeling slightly nauseated permanently, sleepless nights making the whole thing even more excruciating, as when he was awake he simply elaborated faceless concepts in his mind, but when sleep came to him..
He could actually see the horrors.
The destruction of a whole world that, once it had stopped being entertaining, was closed off and filed away, a piece of paper crumpled up and tossed away by a pair of bickering Gods.
The destruction of a home he couldn’t go back to.
The loss of those he had loved.
The death of the only woman in his heart,
The separation from the man that owned his soul.
A horrific series of events he had played a hand in with absolute glee and almost unwavering conviction, only slipping away once he had realised that the one being he had trusted for ten years had lied to him over and over, to the point of turning him into a monster.
It was horrible, absolutely horrible, but he couldn’t do anything about mending his worst mistakes.
Not anymore.
It was particularly off putting to see a face he knew he had brutally murdered serving him in a store. A life he had terminated like it was nothing, smiling patiently at him and waiting for him to make his choice. It was dreadful, and panic inducing, not because he’d want the person to be dead again, goodness no, but because that was a reminder of just how badly he had messed everything up, to the point of having to slip into another timeline to avoid perishing too.
How could a sinner attone if his sin was erased from the root?
He couldn’t.
He could just mourn.
So mourn he did. The clearer his memories from the other side became, the more he withdrew, taking longer and longer periods to himself to think and attempt to atone in little ways, helping the community through means that could in no shape or form help him gain power.
Just in case he got a taste for it again.
It was a lonely life.
But it was what he deserved.
A life spent in quiet suffering and a slow, painful death.
Alone.
With nobody to truly remember who he was.
Who he had been.
Who had been the real person, at least.
Inside a little library sat Jun Kash- Kurosu, please, Kurosu, filling the silence with the anguish of his heart and the frustration of ivory keys.
Entertaining the few late patrons, who sat nearby the piano to read or do their homework, all while listening to Jun’s soft little call for help. His little song of atonement.
The blue tones went through the air, soft and melancholic but classic and statuesque, reminders of a far away Athens as interpreted by those who came afterwards and could only understand white marble, instead of the color that had used to sit on top.
And Jun usually just lost himself in the music and his own head, finally taking a small respite from replaying the same bombed building over and over to just focus on how the music should be played, and how on par his performance was of it, or wasn’t.
But this time, he opened his eyes to see who was watching him,
Only to find himself with a fascinated, wistful look coming from a very, very well known face.
He suddenly hit more than a few off keys, his hands having tensed up and his back turned into the picture of perfect posture.
It made the other patrons stare at him in worried confusion, having picked up on Jun’s search for perfection in his playing, and surprised by such a blatant mistake.
He gave them a sheepish grin.
But well, he hadn’t been able to stop his reaction. Tentatively glancing once more at the man in red and black on one of the nearby tables, he found himself stared at even more intensively, the man’s head propped against his hand and his lips quirked into a soft, borderline dumb little smile.
He.. wasn’t sure if he’d be able to continue playing with him there.
What if his mere presence was detrimental?
What if he couldn’t stop himself from falling into the temptation of talking to him?
So many things could go wrong.
But fuck, wasn’t he beautiful.
His borderline auburn hair, those expressive brown eyes. That tanned skin, those rugged hands.
That physique. Oh, that physique! With those wide shoulders and massive stature, those muscles right under a thin, healthy layer of delightful softness. That strength he knew he possessed.
The light of the library made him look like an angel, the fur lining on his jacket catching specs of light and projecting it, giving him a soft little glow that made Jun want to walk to him and fall into his arms.
But he couldn’t.
He really couldn’t.
That would be selfishness.
It would be damning.
He only realised he’d been shooting Tatsuya a small smile when he felt the corners of his lips giving up.
Realising his mistake, he quickly got back to playing the piano, as fast as he could, launching away from what he’d been playing before and straight into Vivaldi’s arms, something that would require his full attention and prevent him from looking at Tatsuya, talking to Tatsuya, even thinking of his strong arms and his wonderful lips and his kindness and his deep, deep voi-
“You play really well.” Said the man who had risen up and was now standing next to him.
Oh no.
He.. he could still turn this around, couldn’t he? He could be cold, he could be mean! He could be absolutely cruel!
But he couldn’t.
Oh, he really couldn’t.
He couldn’t be mean to Tacchi. Not anymore. Not after everything they had gone through on the other side.
Even if this was another Tatsuya,
He couldn’t be mean to him.
“Thank you. That’s sweet of you.”
The warmth he irradiated was so irresistible. And oh, he could smell some of his cologne.
Oh he wanted to bury his head on his chest and sob all over it. He wanted to be held under a bundle of blankets and smothered by this big man, to have his weight crushing his breath away and making him smile in delight.
To hook his legs around his lower waist and his arms around his neck.
To make him his.
But he couldn’t have him.
He really couldn’t.
He could destroy everything, all the efforts of him and his friends rendered useless all because of the weakness in his soul.
He kept playing, despite the few missed keys his twitching hands provoked.
“I- uh. Sorry to ask this, but uh. Have we met before?”
Fuck.
Fuck, he couldn’t do this.
“I.”
When he turned to look at his face, Tatsuya looked..
Hopeful.
And that broke his heart just the slightest bit.
He could be strong.
He could!
But he had been strong and deprived for so many years.
And Tatsuya’s eyes..
Those fucking eyes.
Anger flared in his soul, as the part that wasn’t completely bewitched by another version of the love of his life thrashed and screamed for him to deny and reject, to look away and forget,
But it fought a losing battle.
“I think we have, yes. I- I can’t quite recall from where, though. Not at all.”
All he got back was a growing grin. “I thought you’d be better at lying.”
Huh?
He could feel the way tension left his body through the last errant key, unable to look at anything else but him in that moment.
“You..?”
Had he just been played yet again by a horrible God?
Had all his suffering been in vain?
Had he failed?
“You didn’t do anything wrong this time. It happened on its own.” Tatsuya gently replied to the way his heart began to accelerate and his eyes attempted to fill with tears.
“I didn’t..?” He could only croak, piano keys left behind to focus on trying to stop the floodgates from fully opening.
“Not at all.”
“Tatsuya..”
“Hey, Jun. Did you bring a coat? Maya brought a scarf just in case you were cold. You wouldn’t believe how much the temperature dropped.”
Well, he would usually play for half an hour more, but this was a special occasion, so.
The library patrons would have to excuse him.
He certainly didn’t want to cry in front of them, after all.