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Watching his Palace crumble apart was the start of it all.
Dull brown eyes gazed upon the shattering glass around him. It was nothing unusual, Takuto figured. Akin to putting on a smile for the suffering client, doing his best to be supportive. Bringing his best foot forward to fulfill the idea he long researched and dreamed about.
Reality, molded by his fingertips, seemed nothing more than a mere toy being knocked over.
And what Takuto found unusual was his lack of a reaction. A lack of self-preservation kicking in. That was what people did when they’re in danger. They get a kick of adrenaline, and their bodies force them to do something . Yet here he was, frozen at his knees, gazing upon its descending structures.
It was easy to get lost in the sights, as glass glimmered and buildings crumbled from their own weight. Takuto could reach out and feel the small sharp pieces of debris pierce his skin. It felt right to fall with his own creation. It lulled him to descend with it, to be in its embrace as if it was his home.
Perhaps these sights were indicative of a change of heart. But honestly, it was more speculation than fact on his part. It was always thoughts upon thoughts, never once considering that he needed evidence.
The world demanded him to be its savior, and he took that role with its unspoken consequences.
And now Takuto had lost his voice. Pained breaths leaving his lips, regret and sorrow underlying it. His shoulders were lowered, and his body weighed far too much to move. Brown eyes had lost their shine, and his smile was wiped off and replaced with bruised skin along his face.
The smartest thing he could think of was escape. Leave before he was crushed by his own laboratory, or what his Palace deemed it to be. But not before seeing a helicopter fly by and catching the corner of his gaze. A brief moment of joy washed over him, an uncontrollable surge of hope that he could be saved, but Takuto tore his eyes away.
Salvation was not meant for him. What he deserved was to suffer with his own pain, something he long ignored and pushed aside in cowardice.
His eyes held the remnants of his happiness. Shattered pieces resting in his brown irises. Takuto longed for nothing more but to have his own serenity. To have someone to be in the arms of where he felt safe and protected and loved . But as much as he was the torch that guided others, it was that very light that blinded him.
Takuto figured caring too much would lead him somewhere, yet nothing would have prepared him for consequences such as this.
The “torch” he held slipped from his hands, clattering on the ground beside him. His hand rested on his sides before his body buckled in exhaustion. Takuto winced at the movement, his wounds stinging as he adjusted to kneeling. It numbed his legs, but he supposed it wasn’t going to matter. Why run away when falling was more enticing?
Takuto’s dreams of solace have only come into existence in recent days, but he may as well have dreamt them decades ago. The bottom line was that he cared for others too much, and that led him to neglecting himself. He wanted something he deliberately gave to others. Yet he also chose to deprive himself of the very same thing.
Despite it all, Takuto pushed forward. Takuto thought of it like that, yet he didn't feel as if he put his heart into it. There were only so many pages he could write, so many days he could go without sleep, before it tore himself apart. His research had been completed, and it resulted in this Palace before him. But that didn’t mean he was unscathed in the process.
Takuto winced again as another building fell in the far distance. Shattered windows and collapsing debris reverberating the space so loudly that it stabbed his ears. The gold glimmer in his eyes continued to fade, as the voice of his Persona dwindled in his mind.
He had to be alive for all of his Palace, all of his ideal reality to happen. Takuto gave his surroundings a longing gaze, like every building collapsing hurt him a little bit more. However, there was little he could do to soothe his aching body.
The evening was unpleasant, and so unbearably bright. All the glimmering glass and the lights kept bouncing into the dark ether, and its wake were tiny specks that reminded Takuto of snow.
It made watching his Palace crumble a bit bearable Perhaps they were their own stars, dim yet visible to his naked eye.
Takuto had long evaded his memories about, well, anything involving the why in making his research. Avoidance was far too easy—Occupying his thoughts with other things easily drowned out his need to address his own trauma. Instead, he helped others with their own problems without a second thought. Though at times it left him with gaps in his memory from sleep deprivation. Nights spent alone in his bedroom, filling his bloodstream with alcohol.
If there was one thing he was going to miss from being in his Palace, it was the lack of capacity for empathy. It seemed to have hit him tenfold, besides the other negative emotions swirling within him.
Because in that brief moment of feeling everything all at once, Takuto found himself fascinated by the thought of suicide.
He immediately bit down on his lip and took a moment to correct himself. Clearly it was from a psychological standpoint. There were numerous reasons that would drive someone to commit such an act. And those reasons weren’t a two-way information stream, leaving its results taboo yet alluring. But the thought that perhaps all human beings had the capability made Takuto lay on his back.
The surface was cold, piercing through his attire and seeping into his skin. February winters were bittersweet to him, even though his surroundings were arguably breathtaking. Takuto liked the chill they brought, yet couldn’t help but feel annoyed that it implied it wouldn’t make way for the next season.
But perhaps it was indicative of something more. Winter meant something was dying. And it only added to Takuto’s thoughts, drenched in intrigued, about suicide.
Maybe his Palace collapsing was its own sign. That it meant his fascination wasn’t exactly unfounded.
Takuto squinted his gaze as the specks of glass kept falling around him, attempting to collect his thoughts. If the shards were a bit larger, he would have been covered in cuts and considered going under a cover for shelter. But, they merely looked like snow to him.
He tried to find a reason behind his sudden interest—drugs, standard therapy questions, and societal stigma were all too common for him. None of them explained it. Until Takuto was left with a common denominator. His own thoughts. Thoughts he had for a long time, only ever entertaining them during two in the morning and drunk.
Takuto sighed. Perhaps he was stupid. Or maybe reduced down to a broken, useless man with nothing left but his heart to his name.
It was what he wanted, regardless if his Palace was collapsing or not, if he was honest with himself. Once everything was in place, he would disappear. Better off not even being a part of the lives of others. Better off dead, all things considered.
There wasn’t anyone to tell these thoughts either. His journal, sure, but that was the same with incoherent ramblings to himself. Takuto believed he could think at his best when the whole world around him was asleep. No interruptions. No noise. He liked the feeling of being awake when no one was.
The coldness on his back seemed to worsen. He could hear the glass on his back cracking, the structure failing him as it slowly broke. Takuto’s eyes trailed up, and rested on the beam supporting his head. His body was slumped over the rest of the surface, the slightest bit unbearable, but he didn’t bother to complain about it. His gaze moved towards the sky again, watching the clouds bunch up and gradually blend into the darkness. Cruel at reminding him what was happening, yet honest. The Palace was still alive because of him, at the same time falling apart.
There was a sliver of hope that lined those clouds. His hope that someone could check on him, ask him if he was okay. It was always him, despite his own sadness seeping into his wounds.
Maybe that was his delusion, that he couldn’t accept the fact that he was laying alone at the top of a cold building and thinking of someone that wouldn’t come.
Takuto breathed out. He was on his own, because of his own mistakes. And that loneliness occupied his mind. No one else should get involved, now that he thought more about it.
Whatever sanity remained in his mind, it pleaded with him to simply leave and save himself while he still could. Help was still there. Leaving the cognitive world was still an option. Hell, he still had some access to his Persona. His own voice, telling him his own advice he shared all too much, repeated in his head as if it was a broken record.
His problems were far from temporary though. He would always be a man stuck in something that was never meant to be. If he changed his name, wandered into an unrelated profession, drink and smoke all of his recent years away, maybe it would be okay.
But his fascinations and thoughts only cemented the idea that being gone was the better option. All the events of the past few days, led to this.
Defeated, and ready to accept the outcome of being wrong.
All those years, all those revisions and crumpled papers and finally his accomplished research, down in whatever void that became of his apartment. Of his discontinued laboratory. Studying human cognition had been what defined his life for years, but it was stupid for him to even think he could erase trauma and pain downright.
“ I’m fine! I just need to finish this paper and… ”
He wished he didn’t have to hear his own stupidity before he fell to his death.
Takuto had to clench his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. Before he had time to process it, the cracks grew larger. He felt the cement crumble, but his eyes kept drinking in sight of his Palace fragment and fell apart.
He suppressed his need for touch. Afraid that the moment his vulnerability showed itself, fate would punish him. But he wished he could simply fall and wake up, realizing it's all been a dream. As cruel as it was to speculate about, maybe it paid to witness his suffering. Some broken human being, plummeting to whatever end he decided.
He wondered how long it would take before anyone discovered him, or maybe what was physically left of him. No more of his so-called counseling. No more of the nonsense he disguised as saving.
It was merely better this way.
The cement beneath him gave out. Takuto gasped at the air that engulfed his being, and let himself fall.
The descent was soft. Softer than he thought it should be. It should have felt— Well, what could ever describe such a feeling?
Takuto’s heartbeat seemed loud in his ears. He opened his eyes, and stared at the glimmering lights. Everything was ethereal, and he briefly wished that it could last.
It won’t. In a few moments he would feel the ground slam into his back. He was never meant to have a taste of peace.
But Takuto didn’t even think to refuse the thought that the descent was taking his breath away. He closed his eyes, savoring in his mind the beauty of everything around him. Calmness washed over him. He let out his breath.
The glass of the buildings continued to shatter, blending in the others and creating its own kind of snowfall. It all fell with him as if they were stars. Every single shard plummeting into the ground that illuminated.
His dwindling love suddenly painted all of Takuto’s nights with a color he had been searching for since.
Silence consumed Takuto and his surroundings. His eyes slowly opened, and the first thing he felt was the dry and damaged pavement. Warm, and it felt like it was home. Back before he tried to morph everything into his delusion, complicating everything until it blurred into gibberish only he understood.
The shaking in his hands traveled up his arms, through his frame until his whole body trembled. He raised his hands up to his face. Lacerations littered his palms, and bruises painted parts of his arms. Some parts even showed signs of his Persona physically connected to his body, akin to restraints digging into his flesh.
Little at a time, Takuto’s emotions from the past few years released themselves. Either as soft yet painful sobs rattling in his ribcage, or tears piercing his eyes and blurring his vision. He didn’t care if he was breaking down on the other side of what remained of his laboratory. The fact of the matter was that all he got was himself .
It was impossible to move to the next minute. Everything kept happening and happening and happening .
His hands released the tension. Feeling the dried blood, the still open wounds, then the rough matted texture of his hair. His touch straddled between delicate and vicious, and his chest rose and fell in steady, labored movements.
All so lost in a riot of sensations. Drowning in a flood of emotions he couldn’t contain anymore. White chilly breaths dissolved into the air around him.
Takuto wanted to pretend none of the pain was there. Pretend he was fine . But his tears puddled beneath him.
Being alone has never bothered him, really. He was used to what came with it. He was used to the feeling of reaching for something—anything, regardless of what it did to him—to keep himself grounded, and finding nothing. Takuto grew accustomed to the dull ache that used to be so sharp.
Air blew beneath him, and he lost his balance. His body crumbled and laid on the pavement. He took in and released some labored breaths. There was no use crying into the winds, screaming to the ether.
For a brief moment, he was granted some time. Time to figure things out, decide where to go, and anything else he wanted to do from there. All time ever did was pass and all he ever did was reminisce. It never waited for him before, so being able to scramble to spark the lingering life in him brought some solace.
Feigning being able to continue on living was something he was long acquainted with, anyway.