Work Text:
Christmas Eve.
A time of joy, wonder, and holiday cheer.
But I could only feel the chill in the air and the darkness in my heart, black as the long-cold cup of coffee sitting on the counter in front of me.
Sojiro didn't blame me, which was more than I could ever ask for. He sat with me for a little while in unbearable silence, his coffee similarly untouched, before finally heading home as the night fell.
I would never be able to look him in the eye again. Not him, nor Sae, nor Shiho, nor any of the others. I couldn't bear to face their glares, the consequences of my actions.
We saved the world, we killed God, but the cost was too high. Too high because now there was nobody to open up a locally grown cafe, small and homey like her grandfather's had been. Because now there were paintings in the Kosei dorms that would never be finished.
Too high because I led them all to their deaths.
I couldn't stand just sitting at the counter any longer, so I went up to the attic to try to get some sleep. When I got to the top of the stairs, I paused. The table was still pulled out from the last Phantom Thieves meeting, and most of them still had stuff there at their usual spots. A glitzy purse, a sketchbook, a Buchimaru pencil case. Part of a PC that Futaba had been building lay next to one of Ryuji's empty pop cans.
I gazed at the table, grasping the railing to keep myself steady, and for a moment I could imagine them sitting there, happy and full of life.
They were laughing. It's amazing how much we laughed over the course of the year. Even when the whole world was against us, we could still find the time to keep our spirits up. So I focused on the laughter, carefree and genuine. It was easier than remembering the screaming.
I made it to the cot before the dam broke and tears started to slide down my face. I could feel the grief, the guilt, pressing down on me like a lead weight on my chest. Why couldn't I save them? Was I not strong enough? Were my tactics flawed? Why did they have to die?
I don't know how long I laid there, mulling over my own failures in the quiet attic, but by the time my eyes finally grew weary the sun was rising up from the ground. The shadows of the attic lengthened, and I allowed myself to believe as I slipped into sleep that they were the shadows of my team beside me.
And as I passed out, I wished that I was joining them.