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Ramuda lies on his back, struggling to breathe. It feels like there’s something in his throat, in his lungs, preventing him from breathing no matter how much he coughs and coughs. Somehow, he manages to roll onto his stomach, fingers scratching against the empty blackness beneath him until red bleeds out. From his hands, from his mouth, there’s just red red red. His head spins. Where is he?
Drawing in a wet gasp and nearly choking in the process, he lifts his head, squinting at the far distance. Is there light there…? Before he can think further, the space ahead brightens to the point of blinding him, and Ramuda gurgles out a wince as he squeezes his eyes shut. A few moments pass before he can bear to force them open again, and he pants as his vision adjusts.
He stills.
There, right before him, stands another Ramuda, staring down at him with an amused smile and dark, empty eyes. A giggle escapes the other Ramuda’s lips before he spins around, skipping over to the group of people in the brightened area. Those aren’t--just regular humans, Ramuda realizes, they are…
The healthy Ramuda goes to tackle Samatoki and Ichiro into a group hug, a wide grin on his face as he spins past Samatoki’s inaudible yelling. He talks to Nemu in excitement, ruffles Yotsutsuji’s hair, and on and on. He hides under Dice’s jacket with a laugh, runs to jump and kiss Jakurai’s cheek, and hangs off of Gentaro’s shoulders to peek at the book in his hands. He smiles, and is given smiles in return, and it’s as if there’s a spotlight shining down upon him.
No one pays attention to the dying Ramuda hidden in the dark. He draws in a heavy breath, feeling wet liquid trail down his cheeks, bleeding more and more, lips parting only for no sound to escape. I’m right here , he tries to scream, that’s not the Ramuda you know! I’m right here!
A heavy exhale is the only thing that leaves his lips, and no one sees him. No one except for the healthy Ramuda, who simply smiles and puts a finger to his lips. Shhh. His lips don’t move, but Ramuda can hear him as if he’s right next to him, not in the middle of the group of humans.
It’s our secret, okay~? No one needs to know. The only Ramuda that exists is the one with them, right? Don’t worry… you’re not important. I won’t remember you, and all those of us who you remember will die with you. You won’t be lonely, I promise!
That’s not what he wants… but his voice is gone, and his body is heavy, and he can feel bodies pressing against his own. From the corner of his eyes, he can see pink hair, microphones, and… for a moment, he lets his eyes close to the delighted laughter of the healthy Ramuda. Among the bodies of the other him’s, at this graveyard dedicated to the forgotten memory of Ramuda Amemuras, to the music of his friends’ laughter, his breath slows, and stops--
--And he gasps awake, eyes flying open to meet the view of his office ceiling. Ramuda lies on his back, frozen as his heart beats loud and urgently in his chest. It’s hard to breathe, with a near sob stuck in his throat, but he just can’t bring it out into the open air. A few moments pass before he manages to have the energy to roll onto his stomach, teetering on the edge of the couch as he reaches his hand out. His fingers brush against the surface of the nearby table until he manages to grab a lollipop. His head feels heavy.
Fumbling with the wrapper, he lets it fall to the floor as he sticks the lollipop into his mouth and sucks lightly on it, the familiar sweetness grounding him in the present. But… the remnants of the dream aren’t driven away, and his chest hurts when he thinks about what it could mean. He reaches a hand up, gripping tightly onto his shirt, right over his heart.
He doesn’t want to be replaced. He’ll be forgotten if that happens, and he doesn’t want that either. That Ramuda is him, but not him at the same time. The healthy one won’t care, won’t bother to remember which of the other Ramudas have broken and tossed away. But…
Despite the knowledge that it’s only a figment of his imagination, he can almost feel a presence at his back. Draped over his shoulders, leaning against his sides, a hand pressed over his own above his heart, the ring of laughter in his ears even though he’s the only one in here. There is no one to hug him, to comfort him after a nightmare, to assure him that he’s special to them. There’s only his imagination, and what he wishes could be said, and…
“Don’t worry, you won’t be alone. You remember us, so we’ll always be here with you. No matter what happens, as long as you don’t forget us, we’ll always be together.”
… The memory of the other him’s that he refuses to forget, because no one else will remember them. Except him, the defective one.
“Isn’t that right... 001~?
”