Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

    We used to talk and talk and talk. All day and all night we'd talk. Talk and argue and fight. We didn't have much else to do. He and I could only talk and watch as the other one of us could do so much more. He could talk, but in a different way, and he could also move and run. He could live, while we could talk.

    The one I talked to was cold and focused, and when the other one of us addressed us he wasn't the kindest. His intentions were fine, but his ideas weren't. He wanted the other to be safe, as did I, but he thought that that meant that he had to push everything away. That everything was a threat, an enemy, and should be destroyed. That was wrong, at least it felt like it, and I tried to tell the other that it was. The cold one never listened, but we continued to argue it, over and over again.

    The one who could move was lonely, I could feel it strongly. It hurt, but what could I do? The cold one never stopped trying to get him to destroy, so I could never stop telling him that it was wrong to do so. Our company wasn't enough, and if anything it was a hindrance. I couldn't recall ever hearing wording coming from the other one's own mouth, though I was sure it was possible. He only spoke with us, and that was an ongoing cycle of asking us who we were.

    We were him, and he was us, but each of us was different in a way. It didn't make sense to him, as I never felt him make the connection to us beyond something like imaginary friends, but that was the truth. We were him, but we existed only in this space which he in simultaneous with another that was so much different and vast.

    I was the part that was his needs and his wants. The part that yearned for a blanket when he was cold and food when he had gone too long without. The part that felt the loneliness the hardest and craved connection with others in its rawest form. I was his desire.

    The cold one was the part that held him back from danger. The part that told him when he had stayed outside too long since the sun had fallen and warned him away from broken glass that could cut him. I felt like he was supposed to be the one of us to guild the other one, but something makes me question his ability to do so. Regardless, he was his restraint.

    The other one was somewhere between us, taking our words and existing outside of this realm of just being. He was the one of the three of us that lived with others, who was mostly this person we all three seemed to be. He was his reason, for he was the reason for us existing. He gave us purpose, even if we didn't understand it.

    We didn't understand much, and we didn't know much. We didn't even have a name. We just... existed... and that was pretty much all we knew.

    We talked and argued and fought, all about the same thing over and over. To push away the outside world and destroy it, or to go out and embrace it. The restraint and I had our ideals, with the reason caught in the crossfire of the mostly pointless noise. Our talk only seemed to bring about frustration and more conflict for the reason, and though I couldn't confirm it, the more the restraint and I fought, the more loneliness I felt. But I couldn't let up the talking.

    Though restraint was just as adamant on his point as I was, if I gave up, his influence would be the only one the reason would have. I couldn't let that happen. I would continue until something changed. Until it wasn't just myself and the restraint. Until the reason had something else to guild him so that we would merely be there to hold him up along the way.

    That was how it was supposed to be, I felt. It never seemed right, all this talk, this unsteady balance between the three of us. Reason, restraint, and desire. Three different ideals tugging and pulling at one another until someone caved. Shouldn't we be as in tandem, not in battle?

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Aoba.

We were Aoba.

    That was what the man said.

    Something about how he spoke brought the three of us to a still. I couldn't pinpoint it, but it did something to us. No talking. No arguing. No fighting. Just... listening. For the first time actually listening to a voice that didn't belong to any of the three of us.

Aoba.

We were Aoba.

    I felt emotions I had never experienced before, a warmth that could come only from some kind of internal satisfaction. It was strange and new, and it brought silence down upon all three of us. Even the restraint quelled in these moments.

Aoba.

We were Aoba.

    It was understanding. It was recognition. It was hope. It was things we could barely understand in theory but made more sense then anything we had previously thought before. It was like for the first time we felt real and grounded. Just a name gave us tangibility and structure, and even in our conflict, we were still us. We were Aoba.

    As the man said, we could destroy the world and then make a new one out of that. This was the first time I didn't feel a sense of fear at the sound of the word.

    Destroy. He made it sound like something hopeful, like it wasn't all bad. Perhaps the restraint knew something I didn't, though my instinct told me that he didn't see destruction in quite the way the man made me feel it could be.

    Perhaps to destroy something didn't just mean to end something. Maybe it could also mean to start something anew. A fresh beginning. Another chance.

    Perhaps that was what we needed. The man promised Aoba, promised us, a new life, even though what we had before couldn't probably be called life in the first place. Just existing, really, but there was no reason to argue anything.

    The reason was entranced by the man, already thinking of him as 'Dad', as the restraint and I listened to both him and Dad. We could feel him phase out of our little space, leaving the restraint and I on our own as he went to fully exist within the outside world. The restraint called out to him, but the reason, the one who was most of Aoba, couldn't hear him. I felt fear and hesitation from the other, and I felt that too, but the hope I felt overcame that to stilling my actions.

    The restraint finally gave up his endeavor as the reason spoke to a woman he thought of as 'Mom'. His cries were unheard, and his efforts wasted.

    "Please... please listen to me... you can not trust them...."

    I had never felt sadness come from him. It was strange and bitter, but it didn't sting nearly as much as sadness felt when it came from the reason.

    "He's out of our range now. We need to trust him."

    "But-"

    "Please, stop. We can't do anything now. Listen to what you've told him and pull yourself away from this."

    For perhaps the first time, the restraint listened to me. The sadness from him grew, but it was something I could manage. I knew the restraint was stronger than I was, but with the reason outside our little space, I didn't have to fear being overpowered.

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    As Mom and Dad lead the reason, lead us, lead Aoba, off to a somewhere place, the restraint and I fell into a quiet calm. We both had to come to the understanding that it was just us now. We could still see out into the world outside our space, but we couldn't do anything.

    There was no reason to fight, since there would be no changed result to it besides bitterness towards one another. There was no reason to argue, since there wasn't really anything to trigger agitation. There was no reason to talk, since we didn't need to discuss anything now that the reason was out of our range of consultation.

    Without the reason, there wasn't much reason for anything, but that didn't mean we didn't ever talk.

    "What do you think will happen, now that we do not seem to have much of a purpose?" The restraint asked, after a few years of silence between us, one evening as the reason was falling asleep. It took me a long while to accumulate the will to speak before I replied.

    "Well," I contemplated. "Even though he doesn't need us right now, that doesn't mean he won't later on."

    I could feel a slight shift in the space at my reply.

    "Do you think he will ever come back to us?"

    "I don't know, but I hope he doesn't," I said truthfully, even though I did feel pangs of loneliness. "When it was just the three of us, he was so sad. But now he's better. He smiles now. He laughs now."

    There was a long pause of silence, and for a while I believed that perhaps the restraint's thoughts had been satisfied by that answer. I was proven wrong with a cold response I had not heard the likes of in quite a long time.

    "But is that really better then how it used to be, or is that just your desires getting in the way of your judgement?"

    The sudden hostility caught me off guard. "What do you mean?"

    "You always pushed him to trust people, and that is what he's doing, but is he always happy? Are these people he trusts now always there for him? Is this really better then how things used to be?"

    Where this had come from, I had no idea. This was a sudden burst of anger that must have been hidden somewhere within the restraint that I hadn't detected forming in our space. Perhaps he was more imposing then I had used to believe, or did, in our silence, he slowly harbor more of our shared space so that there were places even my existence didn't touch any longer.

    That, as I suddenly thought this, was a frightening idea. If the reason did ever come back into this space, it was possible the restraint would more easily overpower my influences. I feared what that would result in. I still didn't trust him.

    "I don't know!" I replied with force. "No, he isn't always happy, but is it reasonable to think he'd always be satisfied? He never was happy before! So yeah, I think this's better then how it was before. Any happiness he feels makes this better than before."

    We were both very agitated, and it was somewhat tiring since it had been so long since even talking had occurred between the two of us. I felt myself waver just slightly.

    "But put into perspective the long-term of the situation," the restraint replied coldly. "What about that?"

    "What about what??"

    "How long do you think these people will stay and keep him happy? They continue to leave, over and over again. You have to realize that it is taking them longer to return nearly every time. He is scared they might not come back eventually, and I can not believe you fail to understand that."

    "Oh, I..."

    I hadn't thought about that. I had noticed the periods of unsettledness in the reason when Mom and Dad went away, but since he felt so much other happiness, I hadn't took a moment to even realize the unsettled periods increase. I hadn't noticed, because the reason being happy now took president of him being happy much beyond now.

    I must have just assumed if he wasn't happy, something would come and make him happy, like Dad, or Mom, or Granny. But if they weren't there...

    "This is why we can not trust people," the restraint continued as I fell silent. "People lie. They promise you chances and then rip them away from you. They are the enemy, and we have to destroy them before they destroy us."

    "No... no you're wrong!" I finally countered. "These people didn't lie. That man promised him a second chance, and look at him. Look at us. We have a family now that cares about us, and we never had that before. This is our second chance."

    "Does it look like we are cared about?"

    "I just said-"

    But the restraint cut me off before I could finish.

    "If they really did, they would not continue to make him feel alone. We can't give him company now, so it's on them, and they are failing-"

    "They're doing the best they can-"

    "Well I do not think it is good enough-"

    "But this isn't about you!"

    "This is not about you either!" 

    "Dad!"

    The sudden yell cut us off from our fight. Neither of us must have noticed it, but as I turned my attention away from the agitation I felt, I realized the reason had stirred from his sleep. He was crying, upset by something. I could sense confusion from the restraint as well as to what was going on.

    The argument had distracted us from the outside world.

    In little time did I hear footsteps, and as the door to our room opened, light tumbled in along with the man the reason had called. He immediately crouched down before and looked up at us, at Aoba, with concern.

    "Aoba, what's wrong?"

    The reason continued to cry as he tried to tell Dad what caused his tears, having trouble forming the right words.

    "It's not a nightmare, is it," he asked in that calm and solemn voice that always made me believe he already knew what was going on, even when there was no way he'd be able to.

    The reason nodded.

    "Hm," the man hummed as he seemed to ponder. "Is it that feeling you had before we met?"

    There was a long pause, but then the reason slowly nodded, and I suddenly felt ashamed of myself. This was caused by us. Dad sat down on the bed and pulled us onto his lap, allowing the reason to nestle against his chest. I could hear the man's heartbeat slow and steady against his ear.

    "Could you hear the voices again too?"

    "No, but it felt like they were really mad..." The reason answered in a quiet voice, and I felt Dad hold onto him tighter, rocking him slowly and lulling him back to sleep with promises that he would be okay and gentle whispers of care.

    Eventually the tears ceased and sleep crept up on the reason. His eyes fluttered closed, and we feel back into the calm darkness we had been in before the fought broke out. We agreed in silence that we would not continue this argument that night, neither of us quite understanding what occurred but not wanting to accidentally disturb the reason again. We would settle this another time.

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    We hadn't realized it before, but apparently the restraint and I could still have an effect on the reason.

    If it was because of how intense our anger was, or if the separation between the outside and our little space was getting thinner, or if we were becoming something that couldn't be contained within is space much longer, it didn't matter. Words weren't even conveyed between us and the reason, but this was still quite something. We weren't completely cut off from the reason anymore.

Chapter Text

   I was... wrong......

   ...................

   ..............

   ..........

   Shit.

--------

   For three years, I held onto the hope that maybe this was going to work. The reason was finally happy. He had a family, a home, and all the things he ever wanted. It was simple, but it was everything, even if it wasn't perfect.

   Dad was kind and understanding. He kept the reason steady in the times when I could feel him become unstable. I was always partial of him. Sometimes it even seemed like he knew about the restraint and I. When he looked into Aoba's eyes, it felt like he wasn't just looking at him. I could swear he was looking at all of us. It was a strange vulnerable feeling, but to be noticed after so long if being ignored, I cherished those moments. The restraint did to, though he didn't express it to me, but I could feel his content.

   The reason wasn't as close with Mom and Granny and he was with Dad, but he loved them just the same. Mom played games and keep him company, Granny cooked wonderful food and set rules, and Dad told fantastical stories.

   All of them reminded him every day that they loved him and cared about him. The feeling was warm, and it was good.

   Maybe I was being naïve thinking it would last, but did that mean that hope in itself was naïve?

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   "I told you that we could not trust them."

   "I know," I regretfully replied. I wanted to ignore the restraint, though it was near impossible. He was everywhere.

   "You see what happens when you trust people," the restraint continued. "They hurt the reason. They betrayed him. It was your idea to trust people that you pushed onto him, and look at how that worked out."

   I tried to push him away. I knew these things. I felt guilty of these things.

   Dad was leaving on a trip again, and this time it didn't seem like he was going to be coming back this time. Mom was going too. They were a set; one couldn't be without the other. We were going to be alone again. We would have Granny, but I knew she wouldn't be enough. The reason needed Dad, and he was leaving.

   The reason knew he couldn't stop Dad, and knew he wasn't leaving because he didn't care about him, but it still hurt. Like the reasons needed to bathe, Dad needed to travel. There wasn't any sort of explainable reason. He couldn't stay in one place for too long. That was just how it was. Him staying here was the longest he had ever been in one place, a testament to how much he cared about and love Aoba. It wasn't enough to quell that need though.

   The reason was strong as they left. His sadness was overwhelming, his emotion conflicting, but that didn't stop him from telling them it was okay to go. He didn't want them to, but it was easier for him to let them leave with them thinking he was okay. He clung to the hope that they would be back, even though I knew he knew too the likelihood of them returning was slim to none.

   He was crying now. He was hurting really bad. Dad and Mom were gone, and the loneliness he had felt before had come rushing back with not mercy, but this time with the bitter edge of loss too. It was awful, and the reason couldn't stop cry, even as Granny tried to console him as he huddled up against her like an abandoned pup. I didn't blame him.

   "This is all your fault," the restraint said with contempt, and he was right. It was my fault, and I felt so ashamed for it. I wanted to shrink into some small nook in this space and disappear for a while. I wanted to escape this awful sadness I felt from the reason and forget for a little bit that it was my ideas and efforts that caused this. I didn't think I was wrong, and I didn't regret that I was the one who pushed for him to trust, but this was just torture. I couldn't do anything to help him.

   "I didn't say it wasn't," I replied. He continued to say something, probably reiterating his point, but I didn't listen. I was too focused on the reason, watching him, pitying him.

   Maybe this was my punishment for fighting so aggressively against the restraint before. Our ideas were so different, and his seemed so hostile and excessive, but I couldn't trust him. Maybe I should have.

   It wasn't too much of a far fetched idea that we could compromise. There had to be some way, regardless of how impossible it had always seemed. I wanted to. We were equals, nearly one in the same, yet we treated one another as rivals, no, like enemies. I didn't want that. We had the same purpose: to protect and guide the reason. We had to work together to get any solid progress made. For the reason.

   For Aoba.

   "So what do we do now," I asked, probably cutting off the restraint's rant.

   He was silent for a while before he replied: "I... do not know, exactly."

   "Me neither," I said, defeatedly.

   We fell into an uncomfortable silence, both unsure of what was next for us, just listening to the ongoing crying of the reason. They were so sad. His face burned with the tears, and his small body shook with every sob. He couldn't stop trembling.

   "There are a lot more sad and bad things out there in the world," I heard Granny say as she held Aoba close, trying to comfort him. "But you can't lose to them. You have to stand up to them and move forward." 

   There was more of this awfulness? Oh yeah, I guess I had forgotten. There had to be worse in the world than this. Having your parents leave you hurt really bad, but I knew there was worse. I had felt worse at time.

   There was violence and aggression, both which I had felt from and for the restraint, and towards others sometimes. It always came suddenly and harsh, and it was one of the few times I had been grateful of restraint's presence. He could restrain my outbursts, even though they did nothing to anyone besides burn me out after a while. When he let me go off in my own space, it was frightening when I looked back upon it. I could not imagine how others were when they felt the same.

   But stand up to them? I couldn't do that. The restraint was stronger than me, I knew that. We were equals, but he was something else, or had something else. I didn't understand it, but I felt something from him. It was... something, something that made me cautious. It was dormant but there, and I was afraid of what it could be.

   We had to move forward though. We needed to work together and figure out what we were going to do. Existing like this wasn't working anymore. We needed to change somehow.

   "If you have to cry, then cry. Cry all you want, and then fall asleep when you're tired from it. That way, the sadness will go away, little by little." 

   Little by little. If that was true, it would take many days of tears to drain away the sadness. There could be enough to fill up the ocean. I was probably exaggerating, but that's what it felt like. If only we could just cry out the sadness. Life would be much easier going forward if so, and I wanted it to be true, but I knew it was an unreasonable hope and desire. Even for me.

   "You may end up crying all over again," Granny said as she brushed back a few stray strands of hair from Aoba's face. "But that'll happen again as long as you're alive." 

   Oh.

   If you're alive you can cry.

   I don't... I can't cry, no. Neither can the restraint. The reason, he can cry, but he's got a form to cry out of. We don't, not really, not one that we can effect.

   Well, it's good that the reason's crying, then. It means he's alive, whatever that exactly entails. I thought I was alive, but maybe...

   I'm a part of the reason. So is the restraint. We're all a part of one another, somehow. So if the reason cries, that means we all cry, right? Was that how it worked? It made sense, maybe, I don't know. This's all...

   Aoba cries because reason cries, but the restraint and I don't cry, not really. We feel sad and angry and upset and other things that could make the reason cry, but we have any physical attributes that would allow us to. We can't shake, tremble, and weep. We can't run, hit, and fit. We can't cry, We can't do any of that stuff. Just the reason...

   But he's the reason. Of course he's the one that has a form. We're just guides for him. It wouldn't be right if myself or the restraint were the one in a position of control. It just wouldn't work. At least, I don't think so.

   "People still have to move on. How you move on is a choice that you make for yourself. You decide if you can do it or not."

   Yeah, that makes sense, I guess. Bad and sad things happen probably to everyone, and they all have to figure out how to move on from it, like us. We have to figure out how to move on from this. Maybe it'll be by the reason's choice, or the restraint's choice, or my choice. Maybe the restraint and I will find a way to work together, or we find a way to work with the reason again. We haven't been able to speak with him in so long. He might have forgotten about us...

   We can do it. We just have to figure out how.

   "Think about it. This isn't the end: you're the one who can make your own path." 

   We'll make it, all three of us, together. Maybe we can't communicate with the reason, but we have. We have to have left our influence on him, so maybe we have to make the choice now to trust him. Someday we might be able to talk to him again, probably not today, but someday.

   We'll figure out some path to take together. We can't give up on this.

   The reason finally started to settle down a bit, soothed by Granny's words and her slow rocking. Tears still trickled down his face, but the sobs were much less frequent. The sadness was somewhat more manageable, even though it still hurt.

   Soft murmurs were exchanged between the two, and before long the reason was drifting off into the comfortable stillness of sleep. He was exhausted, and I don't think anyone was surprised. He needed to sleep for a while.

   The world was hazy, but I could tell Granny was carrying Aoba off to bed. She was good to Aoba. We belonged to Dad and Mom, but she treated Aoba like he was her own. He was, in a way, even if it wasn't by blood or contract. He was her's, and she was his. Our little family had grown smaller now, but we were still that: a family. We really had only each other, now that Dad and Mom were gone and probably not...

   Maybe they'd come back. The chance was very slim, but there still was a chance. It might of just been my wanting nature to cling to that faint hope, but I wasn't willing to give up just yet. In the mean time, though, it was probably best to figure out what to do if that hope was just that, a hope.

   "We need to do something," I muttered.

   "I know. The reason is suffering," the restraint added quietly.

   "Any ideas?"

   The heavy silence I was met with for the rest of the evening was enough of a 'no' for me for now.