Chapter Text
"silence be lonely, but i be steadfast." - Afterglow, yves
Kanda is on edge recently.
Your friend is always abrasive, but over the last week he has been different. Distant, even from you, and more snappish than usual. Due to your saintlike patience, you've managed to keep an argument with him at bay, choosing your words carefully and paying extra mind to your tone, if you speak to him at all. Besides, Kanda thrives in silence. It seems natural that you, his closest friend, would be fine with that. And you are!
But of course, he was called on a mission yesterday, and of course you will not let him leave without bidding him a proper goodbye.
Any time Kanda takes a job, you can feel your fear in your bones. There is always a chance that he'll come back missing a limb or with a broken rib or two, or in a body bag. It's also possible that he won’t come back at all. You stress whenever he is late. You are always there waiting, the first to greet him when he returns, caring for him and making sure he’s alright. Lately, though, he's pushed past and ignored you upon coming home, rejecting the care he usually wordlessly appreciated. And while your patience is seemingly endless, it is wearing thin. Especially with his mood being so erratic.
You meet him before his departure at the Ark, greeting him with a quiet “hey.” He mumbles an acknowledgement, looking down at the ground instead of meeting your eyes like he normally would. You shift uncomfortably, resisting the urge to ask if he's alright. You've been keeping yourself from asking such things for a while now. It makes you want to cry.
“Kanda,” you start, cautiously. He glances at you briefly, so you know he's listening. Even if he's pretending not to.
“I, um,” you aren't sure what to say, how to express yourself without setting him off. The next two words sit heavy on your tongue. You can't say them.
“I'll be waiting, so come home safe, okay?”
You cringe at the pleading tone in your words, and Kanda sighs. He turns to you, his expression grim and hard to read. You hate that. He's put a wall up with you, and you know it. It hurts. When he speaks, his voice is flat, unshaking: “You know I can't promise that.”
And that's when you snap.
“Fine,” you turn on your heel, ready to leave. “Die, then.”
“The hell is your problem?” Kanda barks. Good, you think. You hurt his feelings. At least now you knew he had some.
“The hell is your problem!” You swivel again to face him. He's looking at you now, his eyes blazing, expression cold; he's about to speak when you cut him off. “You've been so angry lately, I can’t even talk to you, nobody can! And now I’m trying to be gentle, I'm trying to let you know that I love you anyway, and you just—”
“You what?”
Oh no. You backtrack, realizing what you said. Tears are running down your cheeks and neck now, and you can't take it back. You don't have it in you. So you repeat yourself.
“I love you.”
“Don't say that.”
Kanda is no longer looking at you. His back is turned, shoulders stiff, jaw tightened. You take in a shuddering breath, more tears blooming at the edges of your eyes. “But I do,” your voice is steady, albeit thick with tears. “I love you.”
“No you don't,” he snaps. “Don't say that.”
Something in you dies. Gives up.
“Fine,” you wipe at your tears haphazardly, sniffling as you turn your back to him.
Kanda doesn't look back as you leave.
“Kanda's dead.”
You freeze, grip tightening on the book you're in the process of shelving. You finally turn to face Marie, who had entered the library with a strange air about him. He said he needed to tell you something, speaking slowly as if he were trying not to burn you. As if his words were a branding iron, hovering mere centimeters from your skin.
You understand now, why he was so cautious. After all, everybody knew you and Kanda were close. Only someone as gentle as Marie could possibly be expected to relay such news to you.
At first, you don’t believe him. “That's not funny,” you say, breathless as though you've been running. You place the book on the shelf and rush to retrieve another. “I'm sure he put you up to it, Marie, so tell Kanda that I—”
Your name leaves Marie's lips solemnly, and that shuts you up. His eyes are gentle, apologetic. The corners of your mouth turn downward. “What?”
“I'm sorry,” Marie mumbles. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes and suddenly, the whole world feels heavy on your shoulders. “I don't know what happened, but…they found Mugen. He's gone. Allen said he died happy, at least.”
“…Oh.”
It's all you can muster, quiet and small and pitiful. You don't drop to your knees, you don't sob; on the contrary, you suddenly feel limp and too tired to cry. As if Marie's words had knocked the air from your chest. You shift awkwardly, mouth opening and closing like a dying fish. You don’t know why; there's nothing to be said, of course, but the room's silence weighs heavy on your lungs. It's the first time silence has bothered you since you were 13, brand new at the Order and under General Tiedoll's care. You followed Kanda like a lost duckling then, afraid of unfamiliar faces. His typical quiet had made you so comfortable, you'd forgotten how thick and frightening silence could be.
In a squeaking whisper, you ask Marie to leave the library and he obliges, although not without a concerned glance over his shoulder. You follow him out and lock the large room, your movements abnormally slow, and retreat to your bedroom for the night. There, you crawl into bed without undressing, and you finally cry.