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For hours, maybe days, he faded in and out of awareness. It was like he was sleeping in twisted sheets, tossing and turning, falling off into oblivion, and even though he was vaguely aware of it, he couldn't summon any strength to truly awaken. He continued to tangle himself in the dark, thinking of how he was put to sleep in his vertigo: the echoes of some waterfall of melody sending him under and under again, more potent than any drug.
At the peak of his nightmare, he heard sobbing, and that was what finally startled him into waking. Fighting the ebbing current of slumber, he woke to be surrounded by darkness; albeit awake or asleep, the shadows hadn't faded for him in years. A light rain ghosted on his skin - well, as much as either of those things could exist in a mind.
Aoba's mind.
Desire could see the despair thickly cobwebbing it. He'd never felt Aoba in this state of misery before. There had been the instance when his parents left, then again when they broke Mizuki's mind, but neither had this gaping feel to it.
Aoba's sobs continued to ring, overlapping the last traces of that cursed lullaby until it was finally swallowed. And Desire searched through the fog, brushing away memories like dead leaves to find ones that provided answers.
Then it started to come back.
There was that period right before he fell asleep - drugged, he thought with bitterness - when Aoba started becoming closer to that man with the white hair and gasmask. Looking through the memories muted that melody just enough that Desire could freely sift through the recollections through Aoba's eyes. They were obviously ones Aoba recounted often - he didn't seem disturbed in the slightest that the memories were flooding his mind again.
And Desire saw that man and Aoba entering Platinum Jail together, saw the man - Clear - get burned and show his face to Aoba under the glow of illuminated water. Desire saw he wasn't human at all but a prototype, yet that he could still say to Aoba words of affection, that he kissed Aoba in the cover of rain, went against his kind and Toue then--
Ah.
Clarity revealing itself oppressed Desire in a way that he knew he was feeling Aoba's pain. It grew heavy on him, attaching itself to his consciousness when it recognized Desire to be Aoba too. Aoba's cries seemed to be louder because of it, and every drop of rain on Desire was a mournful call of Clear's name.
Oi, what are you doing?
Aoba was looking down at Clear's body laying on his bed. Metal and wire stuck out like bone and gore, and Aoba's hands were glistening with fluid and tears. Desire could make them all out in the dark room from the glow of screens.
Aoba shook his head, hearing Desire but mistaking it for a thought he made on his own. That was good enough though to let Desire know he could be heard.
Louder, he nudged at Aoba. What the hell are you doing?
Probably thinking he was still talking to himself - which he essentially was - Aoba replied, I'm fixing him. I'm going to do it. I'm going to fix him.
That's pointless. Desire didn't even need to look again to know that for all of Aoba's handyness, this was one thing that was way over his head.
But Aoba continued to battle against that fact, too used to his thoughts betraying him to doubt that he argued Desire with practiced fervor. No! I'm trying! I'm not giving up on him! I'm gonna fix him!
You can't do it, though. You can see it plain as day, can't you? There's nothing you can do to fix this.
No, I can do this! I can do it! His adamant response was enough to silence the still-weak Desire, and more obsessively than before started to cycle through instruction screens.
With almost a frustrated sigh, Desire made himself comfortable in the usual little box he'd been shoved in since Aoba denied him.
It was going to be awhile until he could get through again.
Cracks in Aoba's mind were appearing. Desire wondered if in the middle of his consuming grief and new obsession, Aoba had forgotten to take his pills that Tae gave him. Not that he was complaining about the matter - he knew this was opening up a chance that, if he didn't use it wisely, would probably never come again. Moreover, if Desire's presence was giving Aoba any headaches, he either didn't seem to care or was confusing him for the headache of his work. Maybe the pain in his heart just outweighed the one in his mind. The thought made Desire irritated - not at the fact that Aoba was hurting, but that someone else had inflicted that pain on him, that Aoba allowed this to happen to him. Again.
But there was something oddly beautiful about Aoba's grief - how he was caring for little else save for his want to fix Clear. Instinct. Drive. Something All-Consuming. What Desire always tried to urge him to follow.
He was directing it all wrong though - he was trying to fix when he should actually be destroying.
Another day meant Aoba waking up from nightmares and depression just to drag Clear out of his closet to begin more futile efforts to repair him. In his observations, Desire easily gathered the recent pattern of Aoba's life. The cycle never broke: sleep, repair, sleep, repair. Eat a little, go outside for a bit just to try and fool others nothing was wrong - even though it was obvious Aoba was completely hollow on the inside.
It was so pitiful.
You should just trash him completely. It's what he is now, after all - just garbage.
Shock coupled close by suspicion made Aoba pause in his work. He stopped letting in what was in front of him, turned inward, as if searching for that other voice that couldn't possibly be him (but it was). Without him actually saying it, Desire knew Aoba was thinking it: who are you?
Ah, so now you're looking at me. Remember? You wanted my help to save that thing back at Platinum Jail. Somehow, we managed to Scrap it.
Slowly, Aoba's hands dropped, stained and dirty. "You're who Granny was telling me about back then. The one I feel sometimes." He said it out loud, having a conversation like Desire was tangibly right in the room.
So I am. Now, get rid of that thing. Just looking at it suffocates me.
"Don't treat him like an object." Whether it was the burst of defensive anger or from actually acknowledging Desire, Aoba suddenly grunted in pain, pressing his fingertips to his temple.
Desire decided not to argue against that. Didn't I tell you all those years ago that you can't trust anything? He didn't wait for Aoba to dig up the recollection - he knew already that it was just one of the many memories of his childhood he tried to bury. Just like he buried Desire and Restraint, back when he was around. Aoba was going to get nowhere in life though if he simply kept shoving things in closets.
You have to destroy everything before this happens. Otherwise, things destroy you instead.
The statements weren't things Aoba could immediately refute. Desire was acknowledging Aoba's pain, and Aoba couldn't deny it being there, couldn't deny that the loss of Clear was what caused it. Once more, Aoba was left alone and broken - and Desire could feel that it hurt worse than before; each slash was deeper than the last. Aoba couldn't eat or sleep, only obsess over this artificial corpse.
In Aoba's long, thoughtful pause, Desire murmured, You have to destroy before you are destroyed.
A spark flew. Aoba's hands were inside Clear's chest again, his fingers curled around one yanked wire. Aoba blinked, cursed, ignoring Desire again as he quickly tried to survey the damage he just did - had he done that?
"Dammit!" he hissed. "I need to get another wire...!"
Stop. You've been breaking him more than actually repairing him. This is a waste of time, just throw him out. He makes me ill with his stupid song. Clear separated Desire from Aoba so far that only Clear's voice reached him, not Desire's. It was unforgivable. Destroy him.
"Can you shut up!?" Aoba cursed again, pulling a drawer open, rattling around its contents. He pulled out an empty medicine bottle, tossed it in frustration.
Desire grinned with imaginary lips. Destroy him.
"No!"
Destroy him!
"Shut up!"
Destroy him!
"I already did!!" Aoba flung his materials to the ground, some items crashing down near where Ren laid in sleep mode. The room, already in disarray, seemed to crumble even more to the feeling of Aoba's despair. And then there, in that moment, Desire felt it - under the grief, under the self-loathing...was the anger. And not at Desire.
At Clear.
He left me, the cry howled in Aoba's mind. He left me! He protected me but now - but now--! Why did you leave me, Clear? It hurts! It hurts so badly!
Aoba's body shuddered violently with sobs. He pressed his head to the edge of his bed, right beside Clear's torn hand. "I already destroyed him, as soon as we went there," he sobbed.
The cracks in Aoba's mind were crumbling harder and faster than Desire anticipated. Now he was a ghost at Aoba's ear, pressing against him closer and closer, unable to not take advantage of this chance that hadn't presented itself since the accident too many years ago.
He let Aoba drown in that turmoil momentarily, let it weaken him more, giving Desire the reins to influence him once more. Almost with a hint of pity, he said, Don't you think all this pain could've been prevented?
Aoba's voice shook. "If I hadn't..."
Yes. It's your fault. You did that to him. But for what he did to you - to us - you need to finish the job. A beat of silence. If it's too difficult for you, I could do it in your stead. I'll help you again. Like you used to let me.
Before Aoba could even consider the words, the front door downstairs opened, followed by Tae calling out to Aoba. He shot up, quickly dragging Clear back into his closet and closing the door.
By the time Tae came up, Aoba had shoved all the parts he'd thrown under his bed. And when she came into the room, expression weary and worried (bringing back quite a few memories to Desire of returning Aoba home after a late night of Rhyming), Aoba had made it necessary to hide Desire again too.
She looked at the darkness of the room, at the forgotten nature of it, then searched Aoba's dirtied hands and his face, which must've worn a worse expression than usual. She sighed, old skin looking heavier on her frail frame.
At her inquiry, Aoba caved.
After a long talk with Granny in which Aoba spilled everything about Clear, and she scheduled to have him taken away to be fixed, Desire shoved through once more just to feed Aoba that bitter doubt:
He's not coming back anymore.
Within a few months, he could feel Aoba give him more attention. He was listening. And that doubt Desire gave him before was feeling more and more like a truth to him. When Aoba cried again, lamenting over losing Clear - again - Desire lulled him with more whispers, promises for this never to happen again, for no one to ever hurt Aoba like this anymore.
It's better this way. We're all we've ever needed anyway. You just have to listen to me.
Over the passing days, Aoba's headphones started gathering dust.
Restraint noticed first. Of course he would. Even if his memories were also tampered with, it seemed like he could still look at Aoba's patterns and be able to detect any difference in them. It might've been possible too that, somewhere, he recognized the behavior of Desire influencing Aoba, or at least of Aoba's decisions being led along. Restraint would ask Aoba about the time silently sitting in his room, of the thoughtful expressions he got during work.
"I'm fine, Ren. Don't worry about me."
"You seem to be getting your headaches again sometimes. Have you been taking your medicine?"
"They're not so bad. But thank you, Ren." Aoba's voice was quiet but reassuring as he said it. Even if he didn't sound completely sure, it was the first time Desire was defended.
If Restraint wanted to argue more on the matter, he was deciding not to address it. And if he wanted to ask about Aoba's feelings in respect to Clear too, he wasn't saying anything about that either. Like always, he was remaining patient.
That gave Desire time.
He talked to Aoba a lot, gave him some outlets for those heavy, dark feelings clogging his body. Nothing in the same scale as their teenaged years because Aoba wasn't quite there yet, but he was still listening. Sometimes, Aoba even talked back. And during those times when Desire was his only friend, he could sense Aoba's wonder - why was I scared of him?
Desire decided to address it. I don't have to be scary. It was others like Tae and Nine that convinced you to silence me. The strange peace of being around Nine, the tight darkness brought with Tae's meddling... Again and again, others convinced Aoba he could just pretend Desire wasn't there.
Now he was the only one here, just like in the days when Aoba was made fun of in school for not having parents.
I'm here to help you, he said, so that we can be safe.
From what?
From things that would destroy us. People do that. Things wearing people's faces do that. Still he was refusing to think of Clear as a person. If he managed to convince Aoba he was just Toue's fancy little doll in the end, then maybe Aoba would finally decide to forget him.
But you "protect" by destroying. That's why you control Scrap's power.
Isn't it convenient?
Between his word and Restraint's, it almost felt like old times. But still, Aoba's medicine bottle remained empty. The headaches eased with Aoba's allowance of Desire's presence. Times even came when Desire would speak instead of Aoba, and Aoba would let him, unable to find a complete reason against it. He didn't trust Desire, but there was no one else he had.
And as Desire predicted, a year passed, and still Clear never returned.
This is how it should've always been.
One day though. One day Aoba came home to the sound of a song swaying in between the waves.
Would the rest of his existence be like this, taking what he could get then get shoved into the abyss once again?
Aoba could probably feel Desire's fury once everything settled down and he started picking up a routine with Clear, picking up normalcy with him, because lo and behold, Clear came back - for good. He was constantly attached to Aoba and Aoba to him, the two of them all but making it apparent that they wanted to make up for the lost time. They surrounded themselves in a bubble of happiness that Desire couldn't even comprehend much less penetrate.
Being around Clear while remaining conscious was almost like looking through Aoba's memories again - the melody carried over to the depths he sank into once more, but it was muffled. He wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that Clear had been broken. Even if the song was sung, it seemed to lack the power behind it that once affected Desire so deeply. Instead, it only brought a strange, misplaced sense of calm over him, like Nine's aura once did.
As such, he remained silent. He stayed in his box again like a good boy even when he wasn't prompted to do so. The calm was a ruse for his own quiet seething. Having any communication with Aoba was impossible now that Clear had returned to occupy his thoughts. It was almost a month before Aoba even noticed him again.
The minute Desire felt him nudge at him, curiously searching through his mind for him, he finally projected all the muted resentment into a point of malice, and stabbed Aoba with it.
"Ow!" Aoba clutched his head, curling up where he was sitting on his bedroom floor.
Clear looked up in surprise, but was quick to fall to Aoba's side. "Aoba-san? Are you okay?"
I can't fucking believe you forgot about me again! You goddamn shit, you ALWAYS fucking do this, you've always done it!
"I-I'm sorry!" Aoba choked out.
As soon as he came back, you didn't need me anymore! Right!? Desire shoved at him, banging against his consciousness - any ruckus that would block out Clear.
Stop it! I'm sorry! "U-Unh! Ow...!"
"Aoba-san, what is it? Tell me what's the matter!" Clear's hands hovered over Aoba, desperately searching him for the source of his pain.
It made Desire sick. Why did you let him come back? Destroy him Aoba! Destroy! It's what we do! He calmed down, just enough to give Aoba some reprieve and grip Clear's sleeve as he panted, his eyes pooling with pained tears. Desire shuddered. Then, quietly: Let me out. Let me out, Aoba.
"Aoba-san, should I call Tae-san?"
Let me out. Let me out.
No, I'm not going to do that!
Desire pierced him again with the years of frustration, of darkness and rejection, of boredom, of loneliness. Let me out! Let me out!
Clear's voice lowered. "It's that headache, isn't it? Do you have any more medicine?"
"Aoba hasn't taken it in over a year," came Restraint's voice.
Clear bit his lip, the reason behind Aoba's forgetfulness an oppressive fact over them. Finally, he shot to his feet with a determined expression. "I'll get Tae-san."
LET ME OUT!!! LET ME OUT!!!
"Ren-san, watch Aoba-san while I--"
"Stay here!"
Hand inches from the doorknob, Clear froze. Desire glared at him, his eyes the only thing other than his special voice reaching out to him. Several seconds passed in complete silence until the floor creaked slightly as Clear shifted. When he came back to sit down, he was giving him - Aoba - a bewildered look.
"Aoba-san?"
Aoba's tears were drying on his eyelashes, his lungs still startling for even breath. Even so, Desire remained composed, the picture of lethal poison before it had been drunk.
Clear stared with parted lips as if he wanted to say something, like why he was asked to stay, or maybe comment on where Aoba's pain had gone - any of those dumbass questions would have done. But instead, his gaze softened to worry, and he leaned in.
Desire backed away. "Don't do that."
"Aoba-san? I don't understand..." Clear didn't move for a second, gauging for another flinch or yell. But his worry couldn't hold out for long - he brushed his fingers against Aoba's knee.
"I said don't do that!" Desire kicked Clear's foot out of the way then backed up into the sliding glass door. Now that he was the one with the reins to Aoba's body, there was something horribly three-dimensional about Clear - about his patchworked face, his comprehending rose-pink eyes, his goddamn voice. After months of the nightmare images of tar-black metal insides, torn skin and sightless eyes, his vibrant color and life were too startling, too blinding.
Why did someone like him have to exist?
Powerless to disobey, Clear stayed in place but put his guard up, waiting for some explanation, something.
"Don't," Desire repeated. "Don't touch me with your filthy hands." He lowered his voice, bringing his legs to him.
Hurt crossed Clear's face. "Aoba-san?"
"I'm not 'that Aoba'," Desire spat. "Don't confuse me for that secret closet little shit."
Clear's eyes widened in shock at the vulgar mannerisms. "Ao-," he stopped, closed his mouth. Blinked. And in that blink he seemed to be more aware. "You controlled me just now."
"And I can have a lot of fun with that," Desire reassured with a dark laugh.
But Clear was undeterred. He shifted a little closer, cautiously so, and stopped when Desire dug his nails into the floor. He searched Desire up and down, as if there was anything new to memorize on the body he knew so well. And somewhere along the eyes, the lips, the tilt of head, he found it. Pieces were coming together before Clear, things he never deeply questioned, things he merely passed off as Aoba just being Aoba. It never occurred to him his suspicion of having two different impressions of Aoba was for a reason.
"You're the one who woke me up. With your voice."
"If I knew someone like you was around, I would have destroyed you first."
"Your voice led me to Aoba-san. I woke up and met Aoba-san because of your voice."
Desire narrowed his eyes. "You hurt us. I've always told Aoba he needs to destroy before he's destroyed. You come, shove me away and then clog his mind - just to come back to fucking life."
"Wait, have we had a conversation before?" Clear came closer, to the point he could touch Desire again if he tried - and he did, going for a gentle brush to his hand, but Desire shot up.
"I can Scrap you again. Make it so that you can never come back again." He clamped his hands over his ears. "And will you stop with that song!? Stop trying to keep me from Aoba! Stop interfering! All of you, stop interfering! An annoying toy like you needs to just--"
"Stop it!"
For a second, Desire wasn't sure if it was Aoba or Clear's voice he heard. But in the next second, he was down on the floor, Clear on top of him and a smarting hit at the back of his head.
He thrashed around. "Get off!"
"No, don't tell me to do anything! Don't use that voice to keep me from you and Aoba-san!"
"Stupid doll, that's exactly what you've been using to keep me from him!" Desire growled at Clear, snapping his jaws at him like some wild animal. Desire himself wasn't sure why he didn't feel in control of himself or his emotions - of course he sought to always sate his appetites, but he never just lost control. This was... It was... Not his place to question it. Not when he could finish Clear right here, and while he was at it, go ahead and Scrap every other person that ever tried to shove him inside that box at the back of Aoba's mind.
Clear held him in place easily, holding his wrists down and sitting on his hips. The strength he was using didn't match the fragile worry on his face, his concerned eyes that weren't searching for Aoba at all but felt like was directed right at Desire. He was listening. He wasn't covering Desire's mouth even though that should've been the part of his body he paid attention to most.
He was listening. "Are you trying to protect Aoba-san?"
Desire couldn't answer, but he stopped struggling. Looked right into Clear's eyes. "Don't get rid of me again. Don't just exorcise me like I'm some goddamn demon." His voice was taut, the last thread he felt he had to hold on to. If that snapped too, he wasn't entirely sure of his and Aoba's consciousness could take it. There wasn't enough of that balance Restraint always harped on about, and now that he was gone, Desire's emotions and taking control of Aoba's body like this was making everything worse.
Oh. That was typical. He was - making things worse for Aoba.
But what about me? I'm 'Aoba' too!
"...I'm Aoba too," he finally managed, albeit with a snarl. "You don't get to have us. I'm going to break your mind like Aoba should've done."
If there was anything about that statement that Clear feared, he wasn't showing it. His expression started becoming more calm, even with his lips turned down. Then, relaxing but enough to let Desire escape, he pressed his forehead to his.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know there was something I was doing to you. I'd never want to hurt Aoba-san - any part of him. I wouldn't want to put you in any dark place. Especially since the whole reason I'm even able to have met Aoba-san is because of you. I've always wanted to meet you - other Aoba-san."
Desire froze. Held his breath. Actually felt the weight of Clear on him, became vaguely aware of Aoba himself suddenly going still in his mind after yelling to be let out in the background. But then came the suspicion, that Clear didn't mean that, because no one had ever wanted Desire around before. Even when he influenced Aoba's mind, it seemed like something different from this. Back then, and even when Clear was gone - that was control. Dominance.
This was...
"Thank you." Clear's voice was cracking, just like his skin once had, just like when he made love to Aoba for the first time. "Thank you for bringing me to you and Aoba-san. Thank you - for showing yourself to me at last. I'm sorry I had to be gone for a long time - but you took care of Aoba-san, right? Thank you for that too."
Thank you. Why was he being given gratitude, like he'd done something good? Like he'd been giving Aoba hugs and words of affection and gentle lovemaking? Was he being confused for someone else? Desire just - wasn't one to be thanked.
Was he? He realized suddenly that he was directing that attention to Aoba, seeking him for help in this confusion.
Although still seething, Aoba seemed to be just as uncertain and puzzled by the question. But then, very quietly, murmured, You told me you don't have to be scary. Right? If that's true, then... Don't Scrap Clear. Don't destroy him. I know he hurt me, and I know I ignored you. I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry I stopped paying attention. But I'll do better now. I really will! So, can we start things over? Can we all try this - together?
The displeasure of having Clear involved made Desire reluctant - but only for a moment. Because Aoba said it. Maybe not exactly what he'd been waiting to hear, but he knew what Desire needed. Attention. To not be forgotten or shoved into darkness. To do things together with Aoba. To be a part of Aoba.
It wasn't exactly what he said. But maybe - maybe that was a start.
He closed his eyes, resting his head on the floor. Then, he started to laugh. Lowly then louder so that he started jerking under Clear, prompting him to sit up enough to look down at what Desire was doing. His cheeks started to hurt from the large smile that hadn't shown in so long as he slapped a hand over his forehead, laughing and laughing away. When he finally stopped with a huge sigh, he tried to put on another frown.
"I haven't taken control of this body for years. This was tiring." He bore his gaze up at Clear. "But just because I'm gone doesn't mean I'm not watching. Don't misunderstand and think I like you."
Clear blinked, but played along. "Okay. But will you still come out sometimes? If it's alright with Aoba-san."
The prompt for permission was almost a laughable one but Desire smirked in lieu of any answer being given and switched out. It truly was an exhausting thing to shove Aoba aside when he was unwilling. He was going to miss being able to just sway Aoba's consciousness with little effort. It was too obvious now though he wasn't the only one with strings to Aoba's heart now however.
He boredly turned away when the two began hugging and kissing and murmuring apologies and the like. Desire decided just to tune it out. That was, until he heard Clear ask, "Does he have a name, Aoba-san? Or is it really just 'other Aoba-san'?"
Aoba hummed in consideration, realizing he never asked for a name himself. It was probably easy to never give a name to something that was only addressed at length. But Aoba didn't shrug it off. He turned to Desire, and for the first time, asked him what his name was.
Desire. My name is Desire.