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- things you said that made me feel like shit
Not a lot of things got under Lupin's skin. It would go against his immaculate public image for anyone to think he was in any way sensitive to insults, blackmail or any kind of attack on his character.
But Jigen could - oh he really, really could get under his skin.
Jigen had reservoirs of pain stored up - he hoarded it like Lupin hoarded his treasures - and sometimes absolutely delighted in making other people feel as crappy as he did. He could grab any amount of that pain, stored and aged like a fine wine, and release it in the absolute most agonising ways.
He was almost as good at it as he was putting bullets into targets. Not often, but sometimes he would crack off insults that pierced straight to the heart of you.
Depending on the time, weather, the positions of the planets, he could either be the most laid back dude you ever knew, or one vindictive son of a bitch.
Well, the time was three in the AM, the weather was crappy and the planets were all gazing down at Lupin the Third in dismay because he'd royally screwed up.
It was embarrassing to have to say he had miscalculated on the night's heist - gotten overconfident - but he had. And all they had to show for the nights effort's were a twisted ankle (Lupin's), a bloody nose (Jigen's) and the mark of a sharp stiletto heel bruised into the back of a head (also Lupin's, a gift from a pissed off Fujiko who hadn't gotten what she wanted).
To say nothing of Goemon, who could usually help smooth things over with Jigen by walking off arm in arm to get a drink with him and complain about Lupin together. Instead he had left (traitor) and the fallout from Jigen was his to deal with alone.
They walked down the side of the Seine, hidden from the main street as they skulked under bridges on their way back to the hideout to lick their wounds.
Most of the time, Jigen would fill the silence by griping about Fujiko, but for once their sly, foxy friend was blameless; it was Lupin who was solely in the doghouse.
Lupin tried to fill the awkward void of grim, silent failure with more talking. Probably a mistake when he could see Jigen's hunched shoulders twitching with irritation, like someone was poking him with a needle.
When Jigen heaved a deep sigh and slowly tilted his head back to look at Lupin from under the brim of his hat, Lupin knew some kind of comment was coming. But he didn't expect quite what he heard.
"You are exhausting."
He didn't say it in the way that would make Lupin laugh and shrug it off, in the kind of 'oh, you've annoyed me enough for one day' way, weary but with hidden traces of fondness hidden under there, if you squinted.
No, 'exhausting' as in: you are draining the life out of me, and everyone else, too.
Lupin just stopped. Jigen kept walking - didn't turn back to notice that Lupin wasn't at his side anymore and left him alone.
Alone, to weigh the pros and cons of taking a swim in an icy river at midnight and lying in the muddy silt at the bottom with all the rest of the garbage.
Maybe he'd find a friend amongst the tin cans, rusty bicycles and old fishing nets, because he surely didn't have one up here.
20. things you said that I wasn't meant to hear
"Do you ever worry about him?" a gravelly voice rumbled, a room and a long hallway away - far enough to soften the edges of Jigen's voice into a rising-falling pianissimo.
Fujiko chuckled before responding, "Not as much as you do."
The three of them were pretty drunk, celebrating a successful job that had opened the doors for bigger and better jobs. Lupin was hyped, and therefore probably hitting the booze a little harder than the others.
He had gotten up to take a piss, doing an amazing job of staying upright even if he said so himself, then decided he was coherent enough for one or two more glasses of whiskey.
The bottle in the living room was almost done, so he stumbled over to the kitchen to grab a fresh one. He smiled, humming a little tune as he levered the cork loose, putting the bottle to his lips to take the first sip just because he could.
Lupin paused at the kitchen door, bottle in hand, as the conversation from the living room continued. It was unusual that Jigen and Fujiko were ever alone long enough to converse with each other, and the booze seemed to have loosened their tongues.
They probably assumed Lupin was still in the bathroom, or too drunk to parse their words.
"No I mean like… really worry about him," Jigen pressed, "like, some day he's gonna end up in the rubber room if he doesn't get his shit together."
"He skipped his medication again?"
"Yeah, and it took me six hours to peel him off the ceiling before the job. I dunno, most of the time I can handle it, but sometimes he gets angry. Like all snappy and bitchy and I dunno how to deal with him."
Angry? Lupin thought, I don't get angry-
His father's rages were legendary amongst the staff of the estate. Entire rooms would get destroyed, priceless artifacts would be thrown out the windows without a care. Thousands and thousands were spent on repairing the damage he did.
And this happened multiple times every goddamned month.
-Do I?
"Look, Jigen," Fujiko paused, punctuated by the sound of a glass setting down onto a table, "I'm not saying this to judge you or be a bitch, but do you know what codependency is?"
"Of course I know." Jigen muttered bitterly.
"His mental health is not your responsibility. If he wants to fly off the handle or go drive backwards down the highway at a hundred miles an hour - let him."
Everything and anything seemed to set him off, and it didn't matter who was in his way, if they crossed him when he was in the midst of one of his rages: they were going to get hurt.
Lupin was no exception.
Even his right hand man, Makita, would cower away, closing the door and waiting for him to calm down in case he became a target, while Takigawa would flee entirely, hiding away in some bar until it was safe to come back.
Jigen made a pained noise, sounding conflicted, "It might not be my responsibility, but protecting him from getting hurt is. If I can't do that, why am I even here?"
Lupin felt sick, he never wanted to make his own illness anyone else's problem, especially not Jigen's - never Jigen's.
"You should know by now that you can't protect anyone from themselves."
A vague grunt from Jigen ended the conversation.
The buzz from the alcohol drained out of Lupin's body, his cheeks that once felt warm and rosy were burning with shame and the rest of him felt very cold.
He never meant for this to get out of control, the last thing he wanted was to end up like him. For Jigen to end up like old Makita; long suffering right hand man of the worst man who ever existed, too loyal to leave and too much of a doormat to pull his tail out from between his legs and tell Lupin the Second what he really thought of him.
Jigen had always held Lupin accountable, never failing to tell him when his bullshit was getting to be too much, and left whenever he felt necessary. And that was good, Lupin didn't want to be surrounded by yes-men and it kept him humble.
But his friends talking behind his back like this meant that he had fucked up somewhere. That he was already on a downward spiral leading to becoming like-
Becoming like -
Hey, Junior.
The whiskey bottle slipped out of Lupin's fingers and crashed apart on the kitchen tiles.
"Lup?" Jigen called, getting no response as Lupin hunched against the doorframe with his hands over his hot face.
The kitchen became a dark, hazy collection of geometric shapes as Lupin stared out through his fingers. He barely noticed Jigen walking in, glancing at the shattered bottle then back up again, "Jeez, someone's drunk. I guess another round is off the table?"
"Sorry." Lupin mumbled, not entirely sure what he was sorry for. Probably everything.
"C'mon boss, time for bed I think." Jigen said, hooking an arm around his waist.
As they ascended the stairs, Lupin clung to his partner so hard that Jigen continually grumbled about almost making him trip.
But all he could hear was that mocking voice, clear as if it had only been yesterday that Lupin had heard him last.
The shadows in the hallway rang with his laughter, the shards of light from the windows glinted with the cruel humour of his eyes.
It spoke like an old tape reel recording, cracking and croaking as it came to life.
Hey Junior, whether you like it or not, the apple never drops far from the tree.
Remember that.