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It was annoying to think about.
Their last words had all been about him.
Ken-chin’s. Hakkai’s. Chifuyu’s.
Even Mitsuya’s.
“Promise me one thing. Keep Takemitchy out of this. He made a better choice than you and I.”
They hadn’t even fought it.
All Mikey could feel was anger, when all was said and done. Why did they care more about still keeping him away from Takemitchy than about their own imminent deaths…?
Takemitchy, Takemitchy.
Why had he left?
Why had he left, when Mikey needed him so much? When he even told him so?
‘I want you to scold me, like my big bro would’ve done.’
It wouldn’t have come to this, he’s sure. None of this would’ve happened if Takemitchy had been there by his side. Not the pain and grief devouring him from the inside, eating away at his soul, hollowing him out and leaving him to be filled with the darkness and rot that has been tainting his entire being for so long.
Takemitchy’s presence had held it back, made it easier to live with. Soothed him like Shinichiro’s voice, telling him it would be okay.
And then he’d just went and left him.
Mikey needed him to make it all better, in the only way that he still could.
He’d need to put an end to it all. If only Mikey could die by his hand, have his face be the last one that he sees, condemning him and all the atrocities he committed, then it would be fine.
Then Mikey would finally go where he belonged.
Do it already!
“Or I’ll just kill you instead,” he hissed, pressing the barrel of the gun to Takemitchy’s forehead. Watched Takemitchy’s pupils shrink, the brief shock and horror mixing in his expression.
“It’s over. I killed them all. Take that gun and shoot me; it’s your only choice.”
Stupid, idealistic Takemitchy. He chose to abandon them all, abandon Mikey, but still followed his letter here to the place Mikey mentioned to him all those years ago. Mikey’s sure that his younger self had imagined a very different scenario, but he could barely remember those days.
What he could still remember so very clearly were those blue eyes and the look in them that hadn’t changed at all.
Just like Chifuyu had predicted.
“Put an end to it already,” Mikey gritted out, finger steady on the trigger. Why didn’t Takemitchy take the gun already? He had every reason to. Mikey was responsible for the deaths of everyone he cared about. Mikey had ruined his life just like so many others, only that this was the only one he could find it in himself to regret.
Takemitchy had made his choice. He’d decided against Mikey, so now he should be able to finish it all.
Why wasn’t he moving?
Could he actually see that the safety was still on, that Mikey would never actually shoot him?
No, Takemitchy had probably never held a gun in his entire life.
That thought left something sour and wistful behind. Something dangerously close to agreeing with the others.
“Don’t look at me like that…”
“Mikey-kun…”
Still Takemitchy made no move to take the gun. Stupid, stupid Takemitchy; Mikey should have known. He’d always valued his friends’ safety over his own. And he kept insisting that he and Mikey were still friends, regardless of the gun he had no way of knowing was safe being pressed to his skull.
Mikey’s eyes burned. There was something so awfully nostalgic about the way Takemitchy looked at him – peeling back layers of filth and depravity until Mikey’s innermost core, the very essence of his being, was being bared to the world.
It must be just as ugly as everything else.
“I’ll kill you,” Mikey insisted, but the words rung hollow to himself. Briefly, his thoughts drifted off and he thought about Izana. How upset he’d be.
He killed the thought.
Watched as thick drops rained down onto Takemitchy’s cheeks – but although Takemitchy's eyes were wet (always the crybaby, wasn’t he), those weren’t his tears.
“Mikey-kun, I-”
His words were silenced by a bang, and Mikey flew forward from an impact that he, for a moment, didn’t even connect to the sound. Red splattered onto Takemitchy, who still hadn’t moved. For these few milliseconds, Mikey was merely confused – then, with a dimly felt sense of finality, he impacted with the floor.
That’s when it struck – oh.
I’ve been shot.
Then came Takemitchy’s scream.
The pain registered belatedly, like it had held off for Mikey to figure out what happened. His eyes found a person still half-hidden behind one of the crumbling columns – a grey suit, dark hair, gun still in his raised hand. Ah. That must have been Tachibana Naoto, Hinata’s brother.
Mikey smiled at him, thanking him for doing what Takemitchy couldn’t. For protecting Takemitchy.
Finally. It was over.
Then hands – warm, warm hands – lifted his head off the floor, and all Mikey could see anymore was Takemitchy. He was crying, because of course he was. The full-on inelegant blubbering that felt so nostalgic to get to watch one last time, because there was nothing about Takemitchy and his compassion that could ever look ugly. Not even this.
Through the pain, through the spreading numbness in his limbs, through his swimming vision, Mikey kept smiling.
“My life has been nothing but suffering,” he tried to explain to Takemitchy. He shouldn’t feel bad about his death – it’s a relief. It’s what Mikey wanted.
He could barely hear what else Takemitchy said, which was a shame. Now that he was dying, he did wish that he could have listened to him for longer, much longer. But Mikey knew now that it wasn’t meant to be. Ken-chin and the others had been right: Takemitchy never deserved to be dragged into this. He never deserved being pulled into the darkness by Mikey, who only soils everything he touches and loses everyone he loves.
In these last moments, Mikey hoped that at least Takemitchy would get to live now.
And that maybe, in another life, they’d get to meet again under better circumstances.
It was a beautiful dream to hold onto in one’s dying moments. Mikey knew he didn’t have much longer – the pain was fading already, replaced by numbness and cold. Cold everywhere, except where Takemitchy’s gentle, shaking hands were holding him.
It was… oddly comfortable to die like this. One last mercy for someone who never showed any and never deserved any himself.
Mikey would have liked to say more. Much more. So many things he’d never been brave enough to say to Takemitchy, things that felt trivial in the face of death.
But all he managed to say was,
“Takemitchy… Your hands are so warm…”
He thought he heard a cry, but he couldn’t say for sure. The nothingness beckoned, and Mikey had never been able to resist its call – only that now he at least had the certainty that this was the last life that would fall to its inevitable pull.
Takemitchy. Be happy.
Then, nothing.