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Death is a concept Anasui dwelled upon for a while now. He never once even thought of how he'd feel as a corpse -he knew he wouldn't actually feel a thing, but still- even after his close encounter with mortality and a cheating girlfriend, he never gave too much thought to it. After getting pierced through in such an easy and pathetic way, falling to the ground like he meant nothing and surviving only because F.F. misunderstood his proposal, he found himself thinking about death more times than he'd like to.
He remembered how cold he’d felt; Anasui liked coolness a whole lot more than the Florida hot and humid climate he was used to at that point but the numbing feeling was simply wrong. He couldn't move, couldn't even call out Diver Down- now that he thought about it, would Diver Down even be able to save him at that point? Would the energy needed just to summon him kill him faster?- He was mad, yes, at F.F. dying with him. They should have helped Jolyne and instead were meeting the same fate as him, go figure. He didn't remember an ounce of sadness in him, not even grief or fear; if he needed to die for Jolyne's survival then so be it.
His plan didn't work, however.
For some reason, Jolyne's father's disk managed to enter him- that was the only reason he survived. It wasn't F.F.'s selflessness or Jolyne's love for him: it was just because he was holding something important to her. If the disk would have fallen on F.F., they both wouldn't care about him, he was sure: they'd leave him on the ground, alone, dead, a victim of the priest's plan. He survived just because they needed him alive, not because they wanted him.
When he woke up, he could still feel the lingering freezing grip of death on him; blood was pooling inside his mouth and his eyes blinded by the sun. He couldn't see Jolyne, but he could hear her sad voice talking to someone.
"Emporio." she said with the tone of a grieving friend trying to sound strong for others' sake, the static stopped for a short moment; maybe his dead girlfriend's friends had that same intonation "F.F. is dead."
Anasui was already losing consciousness but he managed to hear Jolyne's "no, I think he's alright" before he breathed in so much air, he felt his lungs hurt and positively blacked out.
He didn't like the disappointment in her tone.
They returned to the prison, one way or another.
Anasui couldn't bring himself to care. He’d died, that was… something. But, worst of all, he saw who would have killed him.
He should have realized that that thing wasn't Weather the moment he and Jolyne hugged: it was weird, to see the man initiating such wholesome touches and it was even more odd how he didn't try to stop Anasui from his -wrong, truly wrong, he'd take it all back if he could- speech; Weather would have come, yes, but he'd simply have existed in the background and probably he'd have come way too close to him just to whisper him to cut it out.
When Whitesnake pierced him, he was confused and betrayed. Why would Weather do that? But then the faltering in the illusion, the hand that looked just similar to Weather's and the whole situation per sé made him realize that whoever this human shaped entity was, it wasn't Weather.
Knowing wasn't enough, unfortunately.
Describing their relationship wasn't easy: whatever Anasui lacked, Weather provided and what Weather was not, Anasui certainly was the definition of. They were different, almost polar opposites, and yet they made it work; Weather's nonchalance was Anasui's barely hidden rage. He'd almost say that they made up a pretty good pair, of what he couldn’t (or simply didn’t want to) bring himself to even start to unpack, but Weather didn’t seem to mind, so why would Anasui even start questioning something that was going much better than anything he had in the past?
Because, now that he was avoiding him with all his might, Anasui started a painfully slow understanding of the sheer amount of time they both passed together. He knew, God fucking dammit, he knew it wasn’t Weather, so why was it so hard to put it in practice? Weather wouldn’t hurt a fly. He was always so patient and calm, how could he hurt anyone? And out of any person he’d hurt, why even him? Anasui had a huge ego, kind of hard to miss, but it wasn’t a secret in the penitentiary that the elder had a particularly soft spot for him (what that meant, Anasui didn’t wish to know) and Emporio, for that matter, so it would be logical thinking that Weather would be alright. Or would he?
When Anasui woke up in his jail cell, he knew he shouldn’t even be able to: he’d died. He felt stiff, gross, a little bit too cold… This time around, he could move his limbs, maybe a tiny bit too heavy for his taste but they did the job, and, with a distastefully trembling hand, he touched his chest softly. To think that there was a gaping hole in there made him physically cringe; to remember how Whitesnake looked while it attacked him made him shiver a little bit more.
“A-Anasui!”
He jolted; he recognized the voice quicker than he’d like to admit, immediately sitting up, standing against his body’s -ex-corpse’s- request. His shoes touched the floor and, with unsteady and uncomfortable steps, he got closer to the prison’s bars. Emporio was trying to stand far from him, probably wary of being discovered, but it was obvious he wanted to get closer to him.
He sighed.
“Come here,” he muttered when he got close to the other, putting his hand through the bars, “hold on your cap.”
Emporio didn't need to be asked twice. He moved quickly towards him, his smaller hand taking Anasui's with a trust the older always found somewhat scary. Emporio grabbed his hat closer to his head, the visor hiding most of his face; seeing that little scene made Anasui realize that he was glad he survived, now that he thought about it. The child easily fazed through the bars, Diver Down making an easy job of it, and immediately moved towards the empty bunk bed where he’d been thinking of his mortality not even a whole minute ago.
Anasui followed him, sitting close to him and hiding his smaller form from any nosey guard. They didn’t speak for a while, Anasui holding his knees closer to his chest and Emporio making himself even smaller.
“Anasui,” Emporio repeated his name, less panicked but just as persistent, with a tone that a child in no condition should ever use “what Jolyne told me… was that true?”
Ah, shit.
“What did she say?” he faked innocence, suddenly very interested in a specific lock of hair. Fuck, shit, fucking hell! Of course she wouldn’t shut up about it. Part of him didn’t dislike the attention he was getting, actually, but Emporio was a kid; why would she tell him?
“She told me that F.F. died,” he whispered “she… she said that you died, too.”
Silence in jail was a precious thing; since he’d put feet in Green Dolphin, Anasui was met with commotion and way too many noises: that was the reason why he kept close to his heart the piano room (and Weather. He seriously needed to stop thinking of Weather so much), he appreciated the quietness of book pages rustling and birds chirping in the distance.
Now, that same silence was heavy: Anasui knew what Emporio wanted to hear, a refusal, him laughing at the absurdity of it all, maybe even accusing Jolyne of being a liar; he couldn't do any of that.
“Yeah. Yeah, I did that.”
Saying it made the whole situation much more real. Jesus Chris, he died. What if F.F. didn't -couldn't.- save him? What would the last thing he'd have told Emporio? And Weather? Would they even care for his corpse? How do they even dispose of corpses in jail? Who would-?
Suddenly, a sniffle brought him back to reality. His head snapped towards Emporio and his suspicions were -horribly- correct: the child was looking at him, his eyes big and watery, lower lip wobbly, overall a normal sad looking child; what was not normal was the grief Emporio was seemingly oozing with.
“Y-You…”
“Hey, now,” he quickly -maybe even a tad too loudly- said “don't get all sad on me, Emporio. I'm still here.”
His hand took his again, this time without a real reason but to comfort the kid.
“I'm fine now, aren't I?”
Emporio didn't answer. Instead, he started crying wordlessly, his eyes laying on their joined hands, as if to take in every detail in case he'd forget.
Anasui hated that.
“It doesn't matter what I'll have to do, I'll always come back, okay? Do you hear me, Emporio?” he was met with a shaky nod “Good.” he already started to regret what he was about to say. Still, he grunted “Would you like a hug?"
Emporio nodded even more. Anasui wasn't a touchy person, he hated contact he didn't initiate and, more than anything, he hated snotty hugs; for Emporio, however, he'd suck it up and shut his mouth.
Anasui slacked the hold on their hands and Emporio's forehead touched the side of his ribcage. Where not even long ago Whitesnake's arm went through, now small and shivering arms were trying to hold him close. Anasui couldn't help a smile, hugging him even closer.
Emporio would be sad if I died, he thought, can't really do that anymore now.
“You won't leave me, right?” Emporio asked, his voice shaking slightly.
“Right.” Anasui answered.
“Not even Weather?”
“Not even Weather.” He’d have to talk to him, sooner or later.
“And- and-!”
“And, when we'll all get out, we'll all live together and I'll bring you both to Disneyland.” he finished, rolling his eyes.
Now the silence was light and enjoyable.
“If you would have… not come back,” Emporio started moving away and Anasui left him as he wished. “I don't think I would have been able to stop Weather.”
“Stop Weather from what?” he snorted. “That guy is a huge softie, he would literally eat his hands first before he'd hurt you.”
“I wasn't worried for me. I was thinking of Jolyne.”
Oh. Right. Now that he couldn't hypothesize as surely.
“Well, lucky you, you don't have to think of that ever again,” he looked Emporio in his eyes. “after all, he's the one keeping me in check. Roles inverting would be a funny sight, wouldn't it?”
And Anasui's smile was genuine when, after scrubbing the last tears away, Emporio laughed and muttered “Yeah, it would.”
Anasui's plan was simple: he would just stop ignoring Weather and they would go about their merry way, with no reason to even question his sudden withdrawal.
As usual, it did not go as he planned.
There was something in his mind that would scream at him to run away and hide whenever he’d even see the other man in the distance. Sometimes he’d freeze, others run away, in the most extreme of cases he’d faze through walls, uncaring of where he’d even end up.
He knew he couldn’t go on like that, Emporio made sure to repeat it everyday.
“He’s getting… I don’t know, sad?” the child once mentioned “You need to talk to him, Anasui! Please?”
And it wasn’t like Anasui didn’t want to; although he didn’t enjoy one bit of this newfound revelation, he liked every second he passed with Weather: this punishment he was inflecting on both him and the other man made him miss those fleeting moments of silence, the time passed together in the piano room, those close and way too intimate touches they shared… screw it, he loved every single second he shared with him and that was both disgusting and terrifying.
He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt like this with someone; even worse, he couldn’t think of one person that would miss him like he missed the other.
What he could remember, however, was how his body immediately went slack when he got murdered; the blood seeping outside, his body not even touching the ground until Whitesnake became benevolent enough to scroll him off; the way Jolyne was rolling his corpse around to search for the disc.
Anasui wanted to talk to Weather so badly, tell him about how annoying everyone was around them, maybe even just exist close to each other; but he could not.
Until, apparently, he had to.
Even though Anasui found it odd how much Emporio trusted him, he never paused and thought of how the opposite was just as weird. When Emporio told him that Weather wasn’t in the piano room, he immediately believed him wholeheartedly; he followed the kid through his secret pathways and, when he asked him to enter first, Anasui -as dumb as it was in hindsight- did so.
When he entered the room he knew in one second that he fucked up royally. The room was cold, colder than usual, and he could feel someone else in it with him. He immediately looked down to his shoes, holding his breath.
Well. Fuck me up, I got played by an eleven year old.
So maybe, just maybe, Anasui’s hands started to shiver; he could lie and say it was the cold -cold. Like when he died.- but he knew better, unfortunately. It wasn’t that bad. He could still potentially run away and he wasn’t giving the other his shoulders. He was fine, he was okay, he was breathing, there were no reasons for him to be worried, he-
“Anasui.”
He was dead, that was what he was. Anasui could hear footsteps getting closer, his heartbeat beating in his ear uncomfortably deafening… What could he do? God, what could he do? What if that being wasn’t Weather? What if he died again? This time around, there wouldn’t have been no F.F. to bring him back, no disc to give him worth so he could be saved; Death would have taken him, hold his wrist uncomfortably tight like she used to do-
Suddenly, the dim light entering the piano room seemingly left. Focusing his eyes, he noticed another set of black shoes close to his white ones, the cold air he was used to, once welcoming, now reminded him of a less than ideal memory.
“Anasui.” Weather repeated, almost mimicking the little bastard that was Emporio. He had to give a stern lecture after this one -if he survived-; he still didn’t look up “What are you doing?”
Weather was very close, as he usually was, but this time around, it didn’t sit right with Anasui. His breathy whisper carried an odd intonation Anasui had never before heard from him; it sounded like worry. He hated the thought, despised it really, somehow he felt like the other was belittling him. As if Weather held that type of right over him.
Anasui Narciso was not a child to look down upon, nor to worry for.
With what felt like an emotional and psychological herculean task, Anasui slowly but surely held his head high enough to look Weather in the eyes in their close proximity. Of course, he was right. Weather looked worried but still… angry, somehow. That made the situation better, Anasui could work with anger. He took a small breath in, hoping Weather wouldn’t catch it and graced the other with a small and slightly faked smile.
“Well, hello to you too, Weather!” he exclaimed, his voice a tad too monotone even by his standard, not even bothering to tuck away a strand of hair annoyingly hiding his left eye “Dunno what you’re talking about, I’m not doing anything bad.”
That was definitely the wrong thing to say. Weather’s expression became more sour, his eyes glazing with something as annoyance and irritation, his towering build making the whole situation almost worse.
“You don’t know what I am talking about, Anasui?” he asked, getting slightly closer to his face to punctuate the statement and, before the younger could answer, Weather went on. “You avoid me for days, leave rooms the moment you see me, go as far as use Diver Down to get far away from me and you still want to act dumb?”
Ouch, okay, maybe he did have a point there. But it didn’t matter; Anasui won’t go down without a fight.
“You do know that I don’t owe you an explanation, right?” he said, voice jovial and relaxed, although he felt like his life was in danger and he should’ve ran the moment he entered the room “Like, I can do whatever I want,” he poked Weather’s chest once “when I want,” twice “if I want-” and he would have done it a third time, if it wasn’t for Weather’s hand engulfing his. His eyes lowered enough to see that it wasn’t a tight hold he wouldn’t have been able to get off from easily. If he gave a good tug his hand would have been freed; however, Anasui didn’t want that. The fear he felt before, the trembling, the shying away that quickly transformed into fake bravado… it seemed so stupid now.
“You changed since you went with Jolyne and F.F., you…” Weather moved their joined hands on his own chest, slowly, so as to not scare him away. Anasui appreciated the thought way too much “You’re scared of me.”
The tone didn’t hold malice or wish to harm. Instead, it felt as if Weather was simply stating a sad truth, something he would have liked to change but didn’t know how.
“If I did something, whatever it was, I am so sorry.” Anasui didn’t speak “If it’s about F.F.'s death, I know it’s not your fault.” still silence “If it’s about Jolyne, she-”
“There is… something I think no one has told you.” Anasui interrupted. He didn’t want to hear Weather talking about her, for some reason. “Kinda big deal. Something major. Y’know, like, honestly, pretty important business.”
He didn’t even need to look up to know what sort of face Weather wore: probably eyebrows furrowed and expressionless; that barely enough showcase of curiosity would have been enough for Anasui to go into details about anything that piqued the eldest’s interest. But now? Anasui didn’t know why he even mentioned the whole… situation to begin with. Obviously, Weather was asking -in his own way- for him to go on.
Anasui breathed in, looked at Weather in his eyes and started.
“When we went out there- y’know, me, F.F and… Jolyne, I guess, we met the Priest. I think Emporio told you that, right?” he muttered. Weather nodded “Yeah, well, I didn’t really meet him… Me and F.F. encountered his stand first.”
His hand started to tremble slightly, Weather immediately tightening his grip. It should have been humiliating, instead it was… almost cute.
“His stand didn’t look like it should have. Apparently, it can create illusions. Did you know that?” he asked softly. Weather nodded negatively. “Yeah, neither did we.”
He didn’t want to speak anymore.
“Anasui,” Weather breathed so close to his ear “what did Whitesnake look like?”
He couldn’t even utter a word, not when Weather’s clear eyes were looking in his, expecting an answer Anasui knew would have hurt him; he got closer, moving his head to the side, so that his cheek would comfortably lay on Weather’s shoulder. He sighed, his eyes closing on their own accord and free hand slithering its way on the other’s waist, their joined hands now pressed between both their chests.
“You’re upset.” Weather broke the silence, his hand finding its place on Anasui’s head, patting him lazily and knowingly.
“Sure am, are you surprised?” Anasui replied, sounding maybe too aggressive in the setting he put himself into. Weather simply hummed.
“I just don’t want you to get upset, too. I know you will, can guarantee that.”
“I’m not upset about F.F. or with you.”
“How can you even know?” Anasui angrily replied, his eyes stubbornly closed “You were not there. Or… at least…”
Weather stopped his hand.
“At least what?”
“Y’know what? Alright, I’ll tell you, smartass! That fuckin’ nightmare fuel of a stand looked like you and it killed F.F.”
Anasui opened his eyes. The words in his mouth tasted like bile.
“It didn’t just kill them. It killed me, too. As in literal murder, it pierced through me like- like- I dunno, fucking, I guess a hot knife in butter? Do you even know that? It means easy, by the way. It left me on the ground like a potato sack, F.F. was literally a small piece of what they originally were. I didn’t- I didn’t even want them to save me. I told them some fucked up things, Weather, straight up just bad and I told them- man, I don’t even know if they heard me, but I told them to take my body and take the disc, ‘cause Jolyne’s fucking father’s stupid disc fell right onto me, but they- they fucking healed me, for fuck’s sake, and then- I don’t even know, Jolyne must have fought the priest and Whitesnake both? The only thing I know is that F.F. died…”
He breathed in some much needed oxygen.
“And I should have died too.” he sighed out.
Anasui made peace with it. He should have died, it didn’t mean he had to. He got mercifully and luckily saved from a rather pathetic death and he shouldn’t spend the rest of his life making F.F.’s sacrifice vain. He’d live on their behalf too, from now on.
“You… died.” Weather whispered. This time, Anasui hummed. He felt very tired all of a sudden. “And Whitesnake looked… looked like…”
“Hate to admit it, but that stand is creepily smart. I wouldn’t have never let anyone come so close to me… it knew what he was doing. You didn’t do shit.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke: no sound, not a noise, only their bodies and the touches they were sharing. Anasui never realized how much he missed this- how much he missed Weather, to begin with. He could have potentially slept there, with no problem whatsoever, knowing he'd be safe and close to the real Weather, not Whitesnake, not someone who wanted to harm him, only their shared bubble of intimacy and wish to care. Anasui couldn't have asked for more.
“You didn't want F.F. to save you.” Weather said.
Anasui hummed.
“I don't like that,” he added. Now that he noticed, Weather suddenly became more… rigid. Still soft but surely not as relaxed as before. Anasui tried to take a look at him, to seize the situation and-
He wished he didn’t.
Weather looked at him, even worse, he looked right through him, with slightly pinched eyebrows and the corner of his lips pulled downwards; Anasui could have lived with that. Hell, he’d even make fun of him for looking so sad about something that didn’t have any lasting consequences on either of them (even when Anasui can’t stand cold anymore, even when he was scared of Weather for a while), but he was crying.
Maybe crying was over-selling it, but the tear rolling down his cheek was undeniable. It left behind a wet streak, a singular shinier line, and it made Anasui sick.
“Weather, holy fuck, wait, no-”
“Don’t leave me,” Weather whispered between them, desperate in his pacate tone, his hand holding his shoulder (to keep in place? To hold him closer?) “please.”
And Anasui could never refuse him anything, even if he had to live through Hell itself.
“Oh, silly you,” Anasui muttered, his hand touching Weather’s cheek in an attempt to wipe away both the tear and the sadness “as if I could even. You and I? We are a pair.” he held back a smile when Weather started nuzzling on his palm “Do not fuckin’ separate.”
His thumb started tracing the other’s cheekbone, a moment of tenderness Anasui would later deny, already moving to put all of the weight on the point of his feet, horribly creasing his shoes in the process, a crooked smile finding its way on his lips.
“May I,” Anasui muttered, a couple of inches away from the tallest’s lips, his hand freeing itself from the sweet hold between them, finding the righteous place on the side of his neck “have one kiss? To show you I’m okay, y’kno’, for your sake.”
Weather chuckled. Anasui would kill anyone for that sound alone. The answer never came, not vocally at least; his hands moving to the sides of his face and bringing him close until Weather kissed him as softly as he did anything else. Their lips touched, slowly, without expectations of any kind, a touch like any. When Anasui explained what kisses were, -“lips touch and then do their thing, they can be platonic but I always think of them as romantic… You kiss people you care about, pretty much”- the older immediately wanted to try it out with him; after a throughout explanation of consent and such, they shared a small peck that Anasui would have described as childish in comparison of anything he else he had in the past, but the way Weather looked at him afterward, as if he hanged the stars, as if he was the only one for him... he liked that. And he liked every single kiss after that.
And, most of all, he likes this one; after a long, first kiss, Weather went on and kissed his nose, his cheek, his chin… if he were any more lonely and touch starved, he’d probably end up giggling like a high schooler. At a certain point, Weather slowly got away from him, just a small space between them that felt suddenly like miles, making him look at him in his eyes.
“I’ll kill the priest,” he whispered. He promised. He swore. “I will. He won’t live long.”
Anasui’s breath hitched.
“Will you?” Anasui couldn’t help but ask “For me?”
Weather kissed him on the forehead once more.
“I will. For you.”
That made Anasui giggle like a high schooler, a snort and a small chuckle; if Weather didn’t hold him as if he was important and worth keeping close, he would have fallen on the ground. Weather, exactly like him, would kill for him. He felt his face red with embarrassment and fondness. He didn't feel the need to hide.
“My, my, Weather,” he cooed, his chin sweetly resting on the other’s sternum, his lips morphed on a sly smile “You just know how to talk to a man like me, huh?”
“Well, yeah, I only know how to talk to people like you and that’s it.”
Part of Anasui wanted to take Weather by his shoulders and tell him that's good, please, please, only talk to me, me and just me-, but he bit his own tongue, leaving both of them in the lovely and familiar silence.
They stared at each other, seemingly entertained by their simple looks; a cold hand touched Anasui's cheek, a nice contrast against his still warm face.
“Let's go to the piano,” Weather whispered, while stroking his cheek “I missed you and I'm tired.”
Weather usually did that a lot; freely telling Anasui how he felt without filters of any kind, without stops and inhibition. Anasui taught him -of course- that certain things were better if not said, that not everyone needed to know, however…
“I don't mind. You can do it with me, I don't care.” he remembered telling him, even before they both stopped tiptoeing around the amount of care they had for each other.
Now, here they were: Weather laying inside the piano, his back on the hardwood and the strings, his long legs lazily hanging outside the case, while Anasui was using his arms to prompt his chin, pretty much laying totally on Weather; he was struggling to keep his eyes open; the cold hand scratching his scalp did not help in the slightest. Weather was staring at him, which wasn’t new.
“What’cha looking at, punk?” he asked, the question sounding like a sleepy mumble.
“I’m looking at you,” Weather muttered back, unfazed “obviously.”
“Obviously? Since when did you become so cocky?”
“Since you ignored me for at the very least-”
“I could kick the goddamned lid prop right now, Weather man,” Anasui tapped the prop twice, to show his intention “don’t try me.”
“You wouldn’t.” Weather said with finality and an annoying grin and Anasui didn’t know what he found more irritating, the fact that he was right or how much he missed all of this.
“Whatever, I don’t care.” Anasui nuzzled closer to Weather, his arms finding solace in holding closer the source of so much comfort. “Don’t wake me up, unless that small shit stain of Emporio comes in here, I have a bone to pick up with him…” He closed his eyes, finally at peace “It means that I have something to talk about with him. I’ll kick that thing into the stratosphere, I swear.”
“Okay.” Weather probably said, with his lips moving on Anasui’s forehead, it came out as more of a vibration through his chest than anything else, but it didn’t matter.
Being a corpse meant being cold, unresponsive, dead; Anasui, in the arms of the only person who probably ever understood him, who cared about him and lov- liked him a whole bunch, now recognized that he was none of those.
Anasui Narciso was alive.