Chapter Text
Somewhere, someone, long ago, a place tucked endearingly close to the fissure near his gut that churned every other time when the sun shone a warm radiant light on his cheeks, or when Piper yawned and stretched her arms as Lucy rolled her eyes but made space for the blonde to stretch and sleep in comfort, someone, told him once, in that place that he remembered, that life’s greatest joys were found in the mundane.
When he first heard it, young and brazen and ambitious, Lighter shrugged it off with a good-natured scoff, nodding in seeming agreement that was more of a false pretense of appreciation than that of mutual understanding. Sure, mundanity could be appreciated, but only after great feats or when they spent days fighting and celebrating of a high-risk job well done, Lighter appreciated the quiet days that followed, he understood that.
When his group started to rift amongst themselves given his lackluster aptitude and inability of decision, all he ever wished every night as he closed his eyes to the moment of rest was peace amongst his comrades without the turmoil of conflict, because once, somewhere, someone, long ago told him that strength was all that mattered to survive, but Lighter wanted more than just survival, he wanted a life well-lived. He just did not know the difference until it was too late.
Now, years gone by, dozens of that old scotch nitro-fuel that he had to commission several months in advance every year, emptied on the crevices of the dirt and fed to the earth beneath, long conversations that never resolved themselves, words that died of their sound and so many hours of grief that never really dulled, Lighter knew, that somewhere, someone once told him something-
Caesar excitedly jumps over to him, having already victimized countless ears on her way about her latest fictional obsession with the romance of two star-crossed teenagers from rival schools-
Burnice’s excitement overwhelms his senses as he slumps against the stool of the bar of a hangover and a stinging sound of a high pitched voice fills his ears and he smiles despite himself-
He cradles Lucy in his arms, a new grief that blossoms on top of an old flower-
Caesar jumps out of the hollow, unscathed and embarrassed that her ‘final speech’ of two seconds prior was proven false-
Lighter embraces her, they all do, living flesh and breathing air-
They celebrate, he loses a drink-off with the Proxy-
and-
And they were right. Every single damn time.
Life was meant to be lived in the present, finally, he understood that.
It was so, on a regular day out in Cheesetopia, sometime following the Tour de Inferno and when tensions finally started to subside on Caesar’s newly appointed title of Overlord, that Lighter stumbled on the girls, all leaning over a counter with deep, thoughtful expressions. They were accompanied by their reliable friend Proxy, their collective silence a bigger point of interest than to wonder what was city folk like her doing there.
Lighter settled himself on a stool next to them, and Burnice just slid him his favored blend of Nitro-Fuel without a word, a remarkable point of higher concern.
Some more minutes passed before someone finally broke the silence.
“How about.. you convince him it’s a favor to a family friend?”
“He would ask why could they just not do it, looking at me with an insufferable face of questioning.” The younger proxy countered with a flat tone.
“For a ‘dying’ friend?” Piper added with a hopeful tone.
“He would flee from the pressure.” Belle noted, rubbing her tuft of dark hair in a sheepish manner.
“For a sick family friend with a daughter whose school tuition is due soon, and for which Caesar owes a huge favor.”
The table rumbled with sounds of agreement, before turning towards the seasoned proxy. They all deflated as the latter just smiled at them without a word.
“Belle, I mean this in the most neutral way possible, but why does your brother have a stick up his arse?” Lucy groaned as she sprawled onto the table, giving Lighter finally a bit of context to their present grievances.
“What do you need the other proxy for?” Lighter finally bit the fruit of curiosity and asked.
“Well, Kasa and Caesar wanted to revive the diner” Belle twirled a finger around them, her bouncy but subdued energy making it easier to to pay attention to her words. “So they asked me for help since I manage a shop, but I think my brother is a better choice since he’s the one who takes care most of our store’s logistics.” She then went on a prompt rant about how he was very particular about their tapes and was brutally critical even when Belle wanted to make her own suggestions, which was even more frustrating as their store’s sales continued to improve, her tone laced with irritation with a bite of fondness that most surprisingly everyone sighed and nodded in understanding to (except him, but he did not point it out) before finishing with- “So we’re trying to figure out ways to convince him to come help!”
Lighter knew the other proxy. Sort of, mostly acquainted with his voice as both siblings helped them navigate the Hollows during Tour de Inferno, with Belle the one present with them. At the time, they were mostly focused on their affairs, followed by high-strung events that threatened to dig up moments of his past best left in the past, leaving him breathless, guilty- anyways.
He also pointedly refused their invitation of celebration, opting to send a bright bouquet of yellow flowers for everyone as recipient, that Lighter had the ‘fortune’ of keeping as they deemed he had the most free time of all of them.
They were still there perched on top of his cupboard catching the most sunlight, withering away by the day but he changed their water regularly, the handwritten note of gratitude with a roundly drawn bangboo safely tucked er, somewhere. He’d found it if they asked. He hoped they didn’t.
Ahem, he returned his thoughts to the present. The other proxy, the older sibling, his name was Wise, and he understood he preferred to keep to himself in terms of social relationships.
Perhaps it was the way Belle laughed at that, all joyous and loud, or how Billy excitedly mentioned the older proxy in passing when they caught up on their misadventures in New Eridu.
There was no bite to any of Lucy’s remarks, Lighter found himself agreeing along despite knowing nothing.
The ambiance brightened as afternoon followed, the early conversation forgotten as peaceful noise filled the dirt-filled, dusty diner with whatever ‘chairs’ they managed to procure in the entourage.
Lighter inhaled the soft brisk air between the beats of sentences, leaning by the edge of a couch but not removed from the ensemble, content with another day gone by in relative peace.
.
Night brought him little rest those days.
It was the upcoming Settlement Days for sure, the lull of challenge that called on his namesake and pushed him once again onto stage, Lighter happily shouldered these duties, at the cost of his sleep being disturbed in the weeks that closed into those events.
It had been happening with frequency enough that he came up with ways to deal with it.
A simple, three steps process.
Grab his jacket, his bike and ride in the cold quiet desert until these nameless intrusive thoughts were filled with the monotony of the roads and biting wind filling his lungs.
He was out under a minute, almost turning back once he saw his breath turn white and his ears turning cold against the air.
Still, he pushed through, gloved hands starting up the engine and waiting for that familiar rumble to heat up, it was with a somewhat familiar movement markedly loud in the silence of the night that made him settle on the seat of his bike, his glasses stubbornly on even if he could not see properly beyond ten feet into obscurity, his scarf pointedly absent. Just Lighter.
He drove the roads, starting with a slow buzz and taking into the scenery, a familiar thud of nervousness of leaving the last visible residence and into the wild beyond, the paths ahead stretching, a lonesome type of comfort that would bring him home, that made him appreciate these moments rather than fear them.
He was feeling more adventurous that night, as he swerved his bike opposite the direction he normally took. Usually, Lighter would go into the city, sit by the benches overlooking the river or go into a late night noodles stand and enjoy a hearty meal in the company of like-minded strangers. Less frequently, he took the other road, towards where Old Eridu had been once, the devastating mural of offerings a place that Lighter could better empathize with when his thoughts ran astray with no outlet to confide into.
The brisk ground that was harsher than Blazewood, a difference that Outer Ring people like him could notice, the unnatural geographical consequences following the old tragedy that still gripped so many to this day, a reminder to Lighter that what was gone should never be forgotten.
He settled his bike down, looking towards the ground as he focused on his boots walking on the gravel, taking him to his usual place where there was a wall that he could lean to, gather his thoughts, and reminisce until sun rose anew.
“Oh, didn’t expect someone this late.”
His face turned upwards at the unnoticed presence, from which he had to squint and come a bit closer to make out the face due to his shades.
He stopped when he noticed the sudden apprehension, a few feet away, he silently looked at them for a moment.
The other had a hand raised towards the fence where countless offerings were tied to, unlikely thief given the raw emotion of grief and sadness that glistened off his face with shaky breaths, Lighter caught him in a moment of vulnerability, and for that realization his gaze stayed a second longer.
“Couldn’t sleep.” He answered curtly, turning now towards the fence and overlooking the remains of the once great city far in the distance. Well, he couldn’t see at all, but he could make out the bigger details from memory alone.
“Same.” He responded, just as curt.
They stayed in relative silence, not quite closed off in their own place.
Perhaps that was why they both ended up next to each other at some point, sitting at the back of the other’s vehicle as they made small talk, overlooking the bright sky and the remembrance of life once been, it wasn’t unpleasant, a comfort found only with strangers.
The other, Akira as the other said after a beat of hesitation that almost spilled into a quiet chuckle, was glancing up the sky, and Lighter contented himself with the view ahead, a bit too tall to comfortably do the same from the back of the vehicle.
“What brings you here, if you don’t mind me asking?” The Nitro-Fuel he drank earlier that day must have made him chattier than usual, his arm comfortably supported by his raised knee as the only sound between them was the lighter that he played around with his hand.
Akira looked at the smooth movements that he made, debating if Lighter was worthy of answer.
“Probably same reason as you.”
no. “Remembering death of old comrades?” He challenged with a raised brow.
Akira’s expression was unreadable, or rather, only slightly varying. A minute surprise, a smidge offense and then-
“A teacher, more precisely.” Lighter could tell that it was a hard admission, because he could notice the stubborn knot stuck in the other’s throat the same way that it happened to him.
He waited, more patient, softer this time.
“It was very abrupt,” A pause. “It’s hard to wrap my head around it even after all these years.” Akira’s face turned towards the fence, looking some way beyond it, most likely somewhere that Lighter himself could not see. “I come here to remember I suppose, though I really don’t know myself.” And he understood that, really.
A meaningful silence filled with a single, shaky and heavy breath, the lighter that he was holding awkwardly half-opened and forgotten in his hand.
“And you?”
He finally asked, and the undefeated champion looked away to the ground.
Now, he held the decision, a metaphorical scale of nothing at all yet something definitely was exchanged, given to him, and he weighed it with the invisible weights that he conjured himself.
It was when the wind bit him harsher in the nose where usually his scarf protected him, when he finally decided that he wasn’t ready-
Akira leaned his head upwards again, a sort of mesmerized expression.
Lighter followed, noticing only now the dying stars that descended on them, each streak of light blinding and sizzled before he could fully appreciate them. He counted three before nothing followed, though he did not know how many did he miss between looking at Akira and noticing the phenomenon.
“14 minutes.”
He blinked. “Hm?”
Akira turned towards him, a wry smile that stretched shyly. “20 minutes is the usual recommended time to stare at a fixed point of the sky to see a shooting star, but it only took 14 minutes, and it was way above the average number, despite not being meteor shower season.”
Lighter blinked again, this time with a more defined stare, caught off guard by the sudden levity.
“Oh.. cool?”
The other man scoffed. “It’s more than just cool, Lighter.”
“I’m sure it is.” A bubbling subdued laugh rose his throat, his answer understandably not satisfying the other as they sat there once again, looking up the sky as Lighter too, joined this time with the newfound knowledge.
20 minutes, it echoed in his head, wondering if he still would be there in twenty minutes, if he would be on the road in twenty minutes ready to head back and trying to catch a glimpse of the ephemeral space rocks precariously disregarding road safety, if a sudden disaster would erupt around them in twenty minutes, swallowing them down through a hole and the earth splitting as they landed, surrounded by rising ether crystals and then mindlessly wandering without a shred of humanity left.
His words came easier this time.
“They also died in the hollows, but not here.” Lighter really should shut up, or wake up, because surely if he was awake in his own conscious body, he would not be willfully spilling his deepest kept weaknesses out there in the open just because the other person did too, and who followed with surprising nerdy trivia right out of novel that Caesar would probably read- “Unlike you, I know how exactly it happened.”
Akira must have understood from what Lighter was showing to the other, because he did not ask why and just heavily looked to his lap.
“I’m-“
“Don’t.” He stopped him with a tone harsher than he intended. It was hard, and already he was regretting this verbal admission. “I really don’t want your empathy.” Or pity, or anything.
Akira flinched back, carefully giving Lighter a bit of space so that the man could catch himself through the hot emotions that swirled in him.
His breaths labored, and if Akira noticed, he made no mention of it. Lighter didn’t know if that was for the better or worse.
“I still mean it, regardless.”
“You don’t know me.” He was trying, to contain all that rage that threatened to boil and spill onto the other. It would be unfair, but a dark part of Lighter craved the satisfaction of being able to blame someone for this sudden disaster of unburied grief. The bigger part of him that was making him remain in this apprehensive state filled with shame, the uncomfortable tightness that squeezed his ribs a very prominent reminder.
The other man scoffed again, seemingly ignorant to Lighter’s turmoil. If Lighter didn’t know before just from the frail appearance alone, then he knew then that the other was not familiar with physical altercations. Most knew to back up when crossing him on a bad day despite his willing nature, and Lighter was arguably having the worst time that he had for a long while.
“I hardly need a reason at all to celebrate that someone is here.” Akira responded, stubbornly determined, and for that, Lighter unclenched the death grip he had on his knee.
“I’m not someone whose life is worth celebrating.”
“I’m sure people around you disagree.”
They’re dead, he wanted to retort, but that too, would be unfair to his companion, and above all to the second family that God so mercilessly bestowed upon him as punishment.
For a stranger, Akira was awfully close on a lot of marks.
The Sons of Calydon welcomed him, regardless if it was superficial or not, and it was a fact that he had to suffer with every day.
Guilt and shame crawled into him like worms writhing around thriving roots, they were there after long days of companionship, when they remembered tidbits about Lighter without him uttering a single word, his was a conflicting existence, alive with the weight of too many deaths on his back, too many griefs to settle, too many lives gone to live for and carried in his memories of them. Understandably he was tired, this was a battle of the mind that he had been losing, and yet the hypocritical intrinsic desire to live kept him afloat, agonizing when the silence couldn’t keep those thoughts away.
“For a squirt, you’re real perceptive with these things.” He commented after a while, when he could finally breathe without feeling like a part of him would leak without his consent.
“It comes with the job description of being an older brother, you have to know your way with people.”
Lighter hummed, grateful at last that they were moving topics. They talked a bit more before Akira yawned and Lighter decided it was time to head home.
He gripped the handles of his bike tightly, wounding the uneven grips a few times uselessly before he turned to the other, who was halfway putting on his seatbelt. It was comical how much smaller he looked inside the vehicle.
“Thanks, for the company.” Lighter coughed into his glove, the full mortifying feeling of discomposure rendering a sorry figure for the proud title he held as a sign of reputation for his gang.
Akira blinked once at him, looking front of him for a meaningful second before turning to him again with purposeful glint in those green eyes. “And..?”
He sighed, lost of his will to fight. “And sorry for being a dick.”
Akira laughed out heartily, moon shaped smile and just the right amount of stiff movements that let him know it wasn’t usual for the other.
And then he drove off, leaving Lighter biting the trail of dust left behind as he stared in disbelief, feeling like he was somehow conned by a masterful manipulator, without any indication that he was tricked.
He looked upwards, counting the seconds until a single streak of light passed by so fast, smiling despite himself, worn, riding down the roads that he took some hours prior, counting minutes in his head and wondering if he was slightly crazy for thinking he recognized Akira from somewhere.