Oh Captain, Let's Make A Deal!

Heightened anxiety can lead to a symptom known as pulsatile tinnitus. You may hear ringing, or beating, or whooshing. Eiji knows this. Eiji has read all he can about things such as anxiety, partially due to their potion work. You have to know your clientbase if you're going to provide for them, even if it is phony. It's all about selling an image, an idea. They also know that they do not experience these types of anxiety. The cold fingers and the tight grip on the heart, the quickened breathing, the faster heart rate. The sensation on the verge of a heart attack.

And yet, he can hear his heartbeat so very loudly in his ears. It thuds and rushes and makes them almost feel dizzy. It forces them not to think as clearly. It leads to a fumbled sale, and then another, and then the early closure of his shop for the day.

They can't help an odd laugh, pressing a hand to their forehead and smoothing their hair to try and self soothe. They're never this far off their game. It must be...

Yes. It must be the fault of that angelic. They've done something to Eiji. That's why they feel dizzy and their heart doesn't quite sit right. That's why his tongue feels like heavy cotton wrapped in fleece, fuzzy and clumsy and dumb. Another giggle bubbles free, and their other hand finds their face. This is ridiculous. They've been cursed. Cursed as some odd punishment for teasing that peculiar angelic all the time. There's no better explanation.

He packs up shop sloppier than usual, still trailing the length of shimmering purple tulle that is usually used to alert customers to his presence. It doesn't matter. He needs them to speak for themself. To explain what they've done. To demand some kind of closure for these feelings and longings that he's certain he's never experienced before now. Somewhere in their mind, they picture arms draped in white pulling them close, a heartfelt explanation full of sugary nonsense that no one would dare speak light on the air, and they groan in frustration before packing faster.

They don't remember most of the walk. It's the usual route, so they don't need to think much about it, but they certainly arrive at the cemetery sooner than they'd expected. They abandon the shop cart without a second thought, stepping onto the grounds of the dead. They slink through graves, eyes barely focused until --

They come into view. Golden and white and frustratingly beautiful in some way against the morbid landscape of the graveyard, focusing in silence. Almost as if they have no idea what effect they've had, and that only bothers him more.

"Oh, Jojo~! Fancy seeing you here," he says, and it's dryer than usual. It's a tease that he barely cares to push. "Just the angel I've been looking for!"

Heightened anxiety can lead to a symptom known as pulsatile tinnitus. You may hear ringing, or beating, or whooshing. Eiji knows this. Eiji has read all he can about things such as anxiety, partially due to hoping that's all these feelings in his chest have been all along.

Supporting this, he can hear his heartbeat so very loudly in his ears.

"I have something...Unorthodox, but important to talk to you about, if you'll indulge me? Don't worry, it won't be any he said, she said nonsense."

Their hand twitches as it outstretches.

Jouji likes to work until the sun sets and the fog rolls in, going so far as to even out dirt when they run out of things to do. The day is always still young, regardless of whether the sun is beating down on them or if it's already set, and this is the case right at the very moment Eiji interrupts them. They don't turn to look, they just...know. The wind changes, temperature drops – there are many factors of nature that dictate it so. It isn't because they recognise how his shoes sound in the dirt or on cobblestone or just about anywhere else.

"...Hmm." Is a curious little sound that they do not mean to make out loud upon registering what's being said – or, rather, how it's being said. They tense, hoping that, maybe, they can just cocoon themself in a feathery prison and rot away like corpses do and not have to think about a blunder so minor that not even an ant would've picked up on it. It's already over. By continuing on, they're only digging themself a deeper grave. Eiji Date is always just one too many steps ahead of somebody who can't even begin to wrap their head around how they've managed to get this far and not be exhausted.

"Eiji Date..." They...greet him. Which is a tentative description, because his name is said in a sigh meant to dispel their thoughts. Gathering their nerves, Jouji finally turns, staring at their adversary dead-on. Despite the strange shift in their tone, their face is the same as it always is. "...you say that as if you ever come here looking for anything but me.." They make a throwaway comment in response to what they're given, biting back despite saying they know better and that they won't.

Then they wait.
This isn't particularly noteworthy, of course, because a lot of people wait, and they wait for quite a while, and everything's fine. The difference between waiting normally and waiting for Eiji is that Jouji is getting anxious and beginning to think that maybe something bad is about to happen which is really only tangentially related – is somebody about to roll a giant boulder down cliff that they don't know about yet? They're beginning to hope so, but, Ohhhh they hate the idea of dying in front of Eiji more than they hate Eiji, which maybe isn't saying a lot, because they're more than willing to sit here and wait, or pretend that they're not about to be sent into absolute hysterics over being even a fraction of an iota of a shred of a distance near him for Mizuki's sake—

"..Unorthodox? But important..?" They repeat, curiously, furrowing their brows as they look down at Eiji's hand. What is this? What're you offering right now? This is an intriguing set-up, I'll give you that, but... They bite their lip, gaze hardening, focusing.

Can't you ask Mizuki? Or anybody else, for that matter? Jouji likes to think that they're the last person in Ukishima that people would go to for any sort of help, and they'd be right in thinking that. It's sort of pathetic that an angelic is off catering to the dead instead of actually making use of what they've been given, doubley so when you consider the loneliness that comes with it. Jouji could've easily been, say, a doctor! Somebody, anybody important! But they're here, closer to corpses than anything, or anyone, else.

So, why, then, would Eiji, despite how immature and clearly very sad and bored they are, ask Jouji any sort of 'serious' question? Let alone 'unorthodox'? They're brainless, certainly, but not stupid – their talent is being completely wasted on a gravekeeper who looks twice as sad working an actual job than themself, a scammer who loiters around and gets paid to look pretty.. They almost ask Eiji to leave them alone after becoming frustrated, before remembering why they've made themself upset in the first place.

They adjust the sleeves of their jacket, clearing their throat and failing to brush past how they've been staring fairly intently and anxiously at Eiji's hand. "Mm.. Fine." They mumble, though the answer had been obvious from the second they opened their stupid mouth. They look to the side, deciding to avoid giving Eiji more than they've already been given. "I'll apologise in advance if I can't give you the answers you want from me." Though, really, it's your fault for asking 'Hakamori', famous for having at least seven separate rumors floating around about the same one event they happened to be in sneezing distance of, as well as being exceptionally lonely and completely out of touch.

The longer Jouji takes to answer, the louder the rushing in their ears becomes. It's a familiar sort of feeling, and one he's deciding he deeply does not like. Furthermore, he doesn't like that this racing sensation has spread down to their fingertips, up into their throat, and it thrums through every last cell of their body.

It's only when Jouji speaks again that something cuts through it. It's only when they're reminded there's a world surrounding them that the thrumming, at the very least, stops. It's only them.

"You're the only one who can give me the answers I want," Eiji says simply, and their tone is too flat. Everything about their approach has been wrong so far. Their mouth feels dry, and like it's been swapped out for another, and like it's upside down, and why is this so different from anything else?

Their hand falls slowly, and something in their expression shifts, something that only a person who has studied their face all too well would spot. A subtle twitch of the brow, a discrepancy in their smile, something dull in their already dull eyes.

"Hakamori Jouji," they begin, and it's already wrong, "What have you done to me?"

Words that mean nothing on their own, but carry a heavy weight on their soul. Words they've repeated to themself day after day, night after night, as pointless thoughts filter in and out of domesticity and something more. It's aggravating, and frustration drives their tone. Something intense and blistering and borderline virulent.

"And don't act coy, okay?" It's sweeter this time, treacly, said with one closed eye and a head tilted off to the right. "I mean whatever curse this is."

Now, 'whatever curse this is' does not properly explain it, but why explain when they're certain in every possible way that Jouji has done this on purpose? Why bother to put the cards on the table that they've already laid out?

He feels unsteady.

He doesn't know what answer he wants. He doesn't know what he wants out of this. None of it really matters, right? They've dealt with a curse. It's hard to adjust to a change of your way of life, but he adjusted then and he should be able to adjust now, no? So why? Why do they care so deeply to know the truth?

Perhaps there's a part of them that hopes it's no curse after all, but then they'll have to accept that the angelic has captivated them in some deeper way that's not meaningless after all, and that is something they're not ready for.

Oh.

Oh!

This- This is the game they're playing!

Eiji's face does something strange then. Something it has never done, something it may never do again; it falls. Fully. They stare at Jouji incredulously, hands shaking, eyes unfocusing and then focusing too intently.

"You-"

And then, it's over. The incredulity takes a sharp turn into elation, though it's grounded in something artificial. It looks strained, and nearly like it hurts. And maybe it does. God, God, maybe it hurts! Because how else should something that stabs into your flesh and stretches it apart feel? That smile, it isn't right. Eiji isn't in his right mind.

"You're- kidding! This is a joke, right? Riiiight? Look at your- your little- You're trying not to laugh, aren't you? I know that expression in just about anyone."

Giddy, or perhaps just inharmonical, or perhaps just desperate laughter peals through the cemetery, an assault to the ears of those inhabiting it. It comes up in gasps, and Eiji suddenly can't look at Jouji. Not in the eye, anyways. He glances behind them, and then to the house in the distance, and then to hundreds of graves with names he doesn't know why he memorised, and then to the sky and something shimmers in amethyst.

"So you're trying to tell me you have nothing to do with- with the breathlessness I feel when you cross my mind?"

Eiji takes a step closer, running a hand through their hair and their grin trembles and God why is this the only way he knows how to share how he feels?

"You have nothing to do with- With the way my heart does somersaults when I so much as catch a glimpse of you?"

Another step, and their breathing is audible. It shudders and stops and starts back up with no rhythm.

"You truly have nothing to do with the fact that you make my stomach twist around and my mouth dry out and feel ill for days just because you did something you always do?"

There is no air of certainty. There is no hint of a lie. There is nothing but unsteady Eiji Date, staring down 'Hakamori' Jouji with a gaze that cannot focus on one part of anything as they step forward again. He grasps their wrists, but it is not as aggressively as he so desperately wishes it was, or thinks he wants it to be.

"If you absolutely have nothing to do with it, then why is it always you? Why does no one else on this God-forsaken island incite anything remotely similar? Do not lie to me."

Or maybe do lie. Maybe lie and say it is a curse and I'll move on with my life and so will you and no one will be any the wiser because neither of us wish to talk about our feelings, and maybe we'll address it as we die, though I'm not sure why I picture myself dying at your side so peacefully.

Eiji's heart feels as if it will burst.

It stings.

Everything.

The way their heart thuds so violently it shakes their ribcage. The way Jouji's gloves suddenly feel against their skin. The way they look at him. The way those words hit like wave after wave at high tide.

I've always found amethyst to be prettier when wetted, haven't you?

Eiji searches Jouji's face silently, smile cracking and falling apart, and he struggles. He struggles not to let something overflow, and he barely succeeds. They let go of Jouji's wrists, backing away with a stumble. Their palms find their eyes and press hard, and it's hard to tell what sound they're making. It sounds miserable and delighted and disgusting and strange. It's not a laugh, and it is no sob -- Eiji doesn't sob. They don't.

"Do you- think this is a game?"

Their voice wavers, and it's not right. That wasn't the way to 'win', Jouji.

"Another step in this cat and mouse...?"

And perhaps it was unfair to suggest their face would never fall again because, like a tree with an axe to its core, it comes down, something somber and horrible resting on a face that only ever makes room for a delicate smile and a teasing glint.

"Do you think me to be that cruel? That I'd use my own- That I'd use things I never confide in anyone just to get a rise out of you?"

An accusation turned on its head and spoken aloud.

Those words strike again.

Everything, all of it, comes tumbling down, crashing over Eiji. The weight of each one sets in properly, and he no longer succeeds -- something unnatural to them leaks from their eyes, and their face no longer knows what to do.

He doesn't know what he wanted out of this, but this was not it.

A reminder that he's not-

That he'll never-

They can't hold off a hiccuped- it's not a sob. Eiji doesn't sob.

"...I suppose that's fine then. I suppose we can incorporate this into whatever- Whatever mess plays out whenever we speak. Yes, I'll tick over another point to you, Hakamori. I'll..."

They finally turn their back on the angelic, and there's a crack in the illusion. Don't focus too hard. A migraine is the last thing needed in this state.

"I don't know what I'll do."

His voice shakes, and then shatters.

"I want to say I'm sorry, but I can't be."

And when they go to leave, their feet will not move. They feel too heavy, encased in a layer of

mud.

Thoughts swirl in an angry cacophony, sparking like young lightning still passing through clouds and waiting to strike at the worst moment. This was a mistake is the loudest, followed by something like I'm just afraid, or maybe I didn't mean to do something like this again.

He almost wants to cover his ears, but that is childish, and that is immature, and the angelic had to sit through every odd word from his mouth, so why hide when they do the same? When they contradict, and backtrack, and imply that they didn't mean it quite like that? Regardless, their hands twitch in front of them, halfway trying to hug himself and disappear, halfway trying to tug at their own hair and use the pain of taut scalp to distract them, ground them, do anything for them.

Their head shakes side to side slowly, muttering half responses, words that are barely important enough to be picked up on, impulse reactions to a war on the heart.

And then, there's hands on his shoulders, and his breathing nearly stops once it catches. Something in him tells him to pull away, that this stopped being worth it the moment they stepped foot here and Hakamori barely even wanted to turn around to begin with. But they do not, and they follow the motion, left,

speechless.

"I don't get you at all," Eiji whispers, and there's nothing in it. There is no playfulness, nor rancour, nor sadness. It's a quiet statement of fact.

"Isn't it- Clear? At all?"

Their shoulders almost burn, but they know it's just their imagination.

Words try to fall again, but they catch, stuck on how alien Jouji looks when they're like this. He searches their face for anything, anything, give me anything at all to show I didn't ruin this and that you really do understand, but they find nothing.

His heart stutters and falls.

"If you didn't curse me then- Then everything I've felt-" He shakes his head, shoulders starting to hunch and chest starting to flutter with rapid breaths in and out. "Then I fear I've done something terrible to you."

Their eyes fall, tracing shapes in the folds of the neckpiece Hakamori wears instead.

"I never- meant for it to happen."

Hands find the ones grasping his shoulders, arms cross in a self hug, and a body curls in on itself so the face is out of view.

"Maybe I thought it was a passing infatuation, or simply the way the light caught you, but it's- Worse. It's...It's worse because, if you sincerely had nothing to do with this, then- Then-"

They shrivel closer into themself, hiccupping again, and fine, it's a sob. It's quiet, and it hurts to keep it that way, and he's only really struggled with crying loudly because he doesn't know it's not supposed to hurt you. They don't know you're supposed to share your fears and pain with others, because someone might listen.

"Then I brought this upon myself, and in doing so, brought it upon you."

Their head leans dangerously forward, almost in a resting position against the chest of the guardian of the cemetery, only barely hovering away.

"I only have myself to blame for falling, is what I mean."

Tears drip onto Jouji's shoes.

There's a lot of things Eiji should know by now. Too many, really. These things, they rack up, they stack on top of each other, they teeter dangerously far too close to the clouds, and yet he never really learns them. They can be drilled into their mind a thousand times over, but they'll still contradict these life lessons through their actions and their words again and again until they die.

One of these things they should know by now, is how hot the edge of a cauldron can get after being kept on all day long, even if the contents don't always reach the top. The flame will slowly heat through the thick metal by the end of the day, and it's enough to leave a light burn on one's finger tips. He will never wait until it has cooled to pack it away.

Another is that the quiet, secluded part of the river is always coldest in the morning, and is not the best to bathe in before the sun has had a chance to warm it, but they will always submerge themself in its icy chill and hiss as it practically burns their skin.

The third is that he will always find a way to screw things up, even if he never did anything at all. They will always find a way to make themself impossible to care for, and they will chase away anyone who ever thought to call him a friend. They will chase away anyone they want to call a friend. They will chase away anyone they care for. And yet he still goes on to speak his mind, and to hurt people, and to create issues that they cannot get over, yet he'll expect them to take anything he says well.

They are selfish, and needy, and lonely, and that's why they're here.

They've weaseled their way into the life of someone who doesn't have the heart -- no, doesn't have the spine to send them away and mean it. Who doesn't bother to stop them when they come crawling back, hoping for more conversation, hoping to have another interesting day, hoping to form some kind of connection. And then, their heart grew too big for themself to handle, and they dropped it all on that same spineless person, who is backed into a wall despite the open air.

The fourth unchangeable, unstoppable rule, lesson, concept, fact is that --

And yet they keep coming back, and he keeps making their life a living hell, and he keeps pushing them with no end goal, and they keep letting him because even when they tell the truth, Eiji does not listen.

Selfish, needy, and lonely.

That feels like the rational sort of thought that Jouji would consider, no? They huff out a laugh, and it's completely acrid. Their head pulls away, and their arms fall in front of them to hang limply. He does not dare look up at Jouji, so he doesn't have to catch their expression. So they don't have to have the look that they're certain will be pure hatred burned into their memory any further than it is.

"I would suppose you're right," he whispers, shaking his head slowly. "I guess everything I've done and everything I've said has been really, truly irrational." Another laugh, but it's weak and pathetic and small. "I did it all wrong."

They reach a hand up to finally remove Jouji's from their shoulder, but it's not hateful or aggressive or cruel or anything more than gentle, slow, and sad. The other is soon to follow, and Eiji steps back.

"I'm sorry," and this time, they mean it. "It was stupid of me to think I could come in here and accuse you of anything and expect it to be wrapped up with a nice happy ending." They still won't look up, and they still can't leave, and they still can't get the ghost feeling of Jouji's grip on their shoulders to go away. "And neither will a proper bout of honesty, but maybe it'll- I don't-" A final laugh, that sounds more like a cry than anything, and Eiji holds his own arm tight.

A nervous habit, something used as- Well, not even he knows. It doesn't hurt.

"I don't know. I don't think anything I do through around you. You make me feel dizzy and I have never been quite so... captivated by another person. Not- Not solely in that sort of way, simply... You fascinate me because you never fail to be yourself, even with outside influence. No matter how much I push, you are so purely- yourself. It's- It's- I don't even know. I don't know anything when I'm around you. And I-"

A sniffle, and a shaking breath.

"I enjoyed the time spent around you. Not for the sake of torment, but for the sake of you."

They try to lift their head, but they feel too heavy to do so. Everything feels too heavy. They wish to collapse into the dirt and, perhaps, sink into it.

Perhaps this time, it'll be proper.

Perhaps this time, despite it all, Jouji will take care of the corpse left behind, and he's doing it again.

"...And I'm sorry if I made it seem like I found it to be a bad thing for me that I felt this way. I meant only that it was cruel to you for harbouring something I should know will not be returned."

Because the fourth unchangeable, unstoppable rule, lesson, concept, fact is that this angel despises them. With everything in their heart -- and while we're on the subject of repetition and finishing statements, it was cruel to have even briefly implied that they don't have the heart to send him away. They have all the heart in the world to do so, and have every right to desire this.

"I don't think I should come back here after this."

A peculiar thing to know about Eiji Date is that when they are sad, they feel small. They feel they've been knocked to the ground and the rest of the world becomes much too big. People become terrifying giants. The surroundings close in around him like he's gotten lost in a labyrinth and there's no center to speak of.

And so, even though they are fully upright, and even though their legs are supporting them, and even though Jouji has moved away from them, he feels battered and bruised and so, so small.

Lost somewhere, sniffling and waiting to be heard.

But the scenery slowly starts to warm, and the chill that typically passes through the skin down to bone and wraps around the nerves so unshakeably begins to fade.

There's talk of forfeiting, and something else, and it's...

A hand, reaching down, helping up a lost young fairy. A hand, pulling him to his feet. A hand, not leaving him to think he's beyond saving or unworthy of trying again.

...An invitation, of sorts, to stay as a constant. A second try. It's not, I hate you Eiji Date, and I'm glad you finally see it. It's not, Then why stand around here? Get to leaving and don't come back.

It still stings, admittedly, because what sort of 'rejection' doesn't? But it's honest. It's to the point. It's Jouji, exactly as they are. And that alone is enough to bring a strange sort of smile to their face. It's not necessarily hopeful, but it's certainly not hopeless. It's a silent promise, it's a silent acceptance, it's something at all. It's meaningful, and not even they know its full meaning.

There's still uncertainty. It wrestles with their mind and their heart and their legs and leaves them incapable of a proper answer. It leaves them unable to know if they will come back, or if they really will find some way to avoid Jouji til the end of time. He knows he'll outlive them, as sad as that is, because it's just the way fairies work, but is he really willing to wait that long?

Are either of them willing to wait?

Who knows. Eiji could come back here 300 years from now, and there'd be an angelic donning all black, having taken to buying time until Eiji finally forfeits. They'd look at him with tired eyes and know they won, even after all this time, and maybe things would be very different by then. Maybe they'd catch up and laugh about the people they used to be. Maybe a hatred would be realised and they'd fight to the death.

A thousand maybes will never be enough for the possibilities of this unlikely pair.

But that's the future, and this is now, and Jouji appears to be offering some kind of challenge. I want to see you try.

They nod without meaning to, finally looking up at Jouji. Something glimmers there, but it's probably just more tears. It's probably nothing at all. It's probably this, that, and the other, and why worry at all?

A hand passes over their eyes, and comes away soaked, and he has half a mind to say 'ew' audibly, with the hopes it'll make them both laugh and leave this on some kind of higher note rather than an uncertain challenge. They sure are thinking of that word a lot. Maybe they know something we don't. Maybe everyone who knows them knows.

"I don't...know if I will come back," Eiji starts, tentative, hesitant, testing the waters, "but I can tell you this much." He takes a deeper breath, and his lungs don't feel too full to do so. It actually has some kind of effect. They feel lighter. They've felt lighter with every word spoken on this change, and it almost feels like they've been returned their ability to fly.

"I agree to your terms, Hakamori Jouji," and it's playful, but it's genuine, and it's stronger than they've been able to push out so far. "I cannot promise to see your face again, and I cannot promise you will see mine either, but I do promise you that upon our next meeting, if it should ever occur, I will be kinder to you. And we will be friends."

And perhaps this isn't a good idea, and perhaps he's still talking on a confession, and perhaps we're saying 'and' a bit too much,

"And who knows? Maybe next time, I'll win. The prize being your affections, of course."

And this time, he makes a 'next time' sound much more certain. Because maybe they know something we don't.

Maybe everyone who has ever known them, everyone who knows them now, and everyone who will know them at all knows the truth.

"Goodbye, Jouji."

They turn on their heels to leave, knowing the impermanence of their tone.