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He misses having someone to confide in.
There’s a corner of the world that the benevolent god has carved out for a dear friend of his. Takuto always greets the old man behind the counter whenever he visits, sits down for a cup if he feels like taking a little break from it all. It’s the smallest courtesy he can provide in his friend’s home, even if no one remembers seeing him take the stairs to the attic.
He dusts away the cobwebs, as an apology for not returning sooner, makes sure the sheets are freshly-washed just by checking off a mental box. Anything to help his friend sleep better.
It’s not the same, not when Amamiya-kun isn’t able to poke holes in his theories, question the myriad possibilities of shaping the heart and what it sees. It reminds him of Rumi, back when she’d been broken and Takuto feared they’d never be able to put her back together. Breathing, but not present.
But Amamiya is sleeping, which means he doesn’t have to suffer, and that little knowledge for now is enough to ease Takuto’s ache.
So he tells Amamiya about the pretty dress Morgana picked out for Takamaki, with Suzui’s help of course; about Sakamoto’s record-breaking big win. Yoshizawa made it to the semi-finals last weekend - they’re all saying her late sister would’ve been proud, and I’m sure she would’ve wanted you there in the audience to cheer her on as well.
Amamiya stirs - lips forming syllables barely comprehensible enough to be dreamtalk, though a sliver of recognition blinks behind eyelids struggling to stay open. The poor boy must be exhausted.
It’s by habit that Takuto falls into step as caretaker. “Shh - it’s alright,” he soothes. Brushes a thumb over Amamiya’s brow. “Everything’s fine. Just rest.”
If Amamiya protests, it’s in the languid draw of breath just before the body settles into the unhurried rhythm of untroubled sleep.
He is not a cruel man. It’s the least cruel thing he can do to make it better.
(Within the sea of hearts, even the Great Thief has fallen into a mysterious slumber. The envoy of Philemon cannot wake him.)
Takuto reaches within, into the darkness that plays behind Amamiya’s shut eyelids as he dreams of nothing, and slides a reel into the projector - tonight, Amamiya-kun and Goro Akechi will continue their game of chess long after the sun has gone down, and this time Goro Akechi will stay until morning.
My gift to you. Maruki smiles, through the ache. For listening.
He misses their little talks.
(Elsewhere, Cinderella still dances at the ball - how long until she realizes that her prince isn’t coming, waiting for someone to save him?
On the other side of the city, an Ace removed from play lives out his life as Prince Charming instead.
He thinks he’s forgotten something terrible.
Maybe he’s not playing it right.)
Takuto remembers to thank the old man for the coffee on the way out.
When everything is done, Takuto steps into Adam Kadmon’s palm, and lets the Primordial Man lift him up and take him into the hallowed halls of its flesh and bones.
He blows a kiss to Rumi before he drifts off to sleep, cradled in Adam’s many arms. Adam has promised him a pleasant dream; god willing, he will dream this world’s pain away.
And on the final day god rested.