[Fic] On the other side of sadness... (1)

Genre: AU. Angst. Friendship.
Pairing: Akame
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Beta: none
Summary: A book, a dream, and years of repressed emotions piled inside Jin that Sunday morning...
Disclaimer: The boys don't belong to me yet. So, so far, just the plot is mine
Warning: Unbetaed. English is not my mother tongue. Also, this is very angsty so far. Still, try to enjoy (?)

~*~

He eventually gave up on the book.

He had told himself it would only be for that whole Sunday —and yet the book had lain forgotten on his coffee table ever since that morning.

There was no time for literature books and belated papers or classes when he had to grieve, and a week was a short period of time to make up for two decades. And yet —or maybe because of it— Jin had decided to give himself time to mourn for that lost childhood friend.

To mourn, really, because he just couldn’t come up with another way to go about it. Even though his childhood friend might be alive, might be living a happy life, might be the man he had once dreamt of becoming —there was no way Jin could know that for sure—, it did not matter. Jin flopped down on his soft living-room carpet and started crying. He had loved his friend very deeply, had spent with him years and years of experiences and stories and secrets and games. But when the time came for his friend’s family to move out of their town to a distant place thousands of millions of hundred miles away, Jin had accepted it with a mild smile.

“I’ll come visit,” he had promised and Jin had pretended to believe the lie.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Jin had lied in return.

Not a single tear shed that day or during the following months, Jin had continued to live without grieving for his friend’s departure. And as years went on and became decades, the figure of that childhood friend had become more and more opaque in the distance until he had disappeared completely. What was left in his place was a dull feeling of emptiness Jin promptly tried to fill up with new friends, other experiences, fresh stories, different secrets and recent games —even though deep inside, nothing could really fill that boy-shaped hole his friend had embedded in his soul.

Now, he could just not simply hold any tear inside.

From time to time, his black poodle little dog licked his face or hands or nudged him on the sides in that silent way dogs have to ask for their masters to be alright again and play with them; until days came to be and the pet dog seemed to have given up as well and simply laid down next to Jin, as if offering him at least the consolation of not being alone.

But nothing worked.

Jin needed to let out years and years of repression and unspoken goodbyes. He realized then, as tears kept streaming down his face and distorted it into a mask of pain and regret, that he had never wanted to accept the reality of his past twenty years, starting off with the day his friend had departed both from his hometown and Jin’s life, and carrying on until this day, this music, this book and this numbing feeling in his chest.

Jin wept like he had never wept before.

He cried for his friend as if he had just learnt about his death, cried for him with the force of a 30-year-old man that had never really cried before. Jin cried until his body went limp and exhausted, drained from a million of nameless emotions and passions, and fell asleep on the cold, carpeted floor that following Sunday morning.

The endless songs of The Hours soundtrack had kept playing in the background throughout the week, like the saddest pieces of lullaby a tormented soul would choose to listen to.

But nobody did, not anymore.

Jin had once again drifted to another world, took off already to the realm of dreams that had set off the strange events the past Sunday morning, where nothing could hurt him the way a remembrance of his youth days could.

He woke up with dried traces of tears worth two decades of cries and a painful feeling all over his body. He could no longer bear a nap on the floor like he used to some years ago and his body was now aching in retaliation for his careless decision.

He got up from the floor and stretched a bit, wanting to ease the pain. A look at his pet dog sitting next to him and the forgotten book lying on the floor spread a lazy smile, regardless of his awful state.

“What the hell am I doing with myself?” He asked out loud, interrupting the continuous melody of the orchestra playing in the background.

He stopped the player, grabbed a jacket and took Pin’s leash.

Taking his dog out for a walk without checking the time was another unconscious decision, more like an impulse that he couldn’t contain.

The cold breeze of the night greeted him as soon as he stood out of his building and soon he walked Pin to the closest park. It wasn’t the walk what he needed or even the freshness of the outside world. He sat on a bench and let Pin to run freely in the park.

No, what he really needed was an excuse not to pay attention to himself, to his grieving, to his loss.

He observed how a couple of street dogs ran to Pin and stood at a close distance. His poodle was also on alert, barely moving in the presence of these unknown dogs. It was fascinating though, how it only took a couple of tense minutes and some sniffles here and there, and suddenly they seemed comfortable around each other as if they had known one another for months.

How easy it was for the animals because there was nothing left unsaid between them!

Jin stood there and observed his pet dog and his new friends, pushing out of his head the thousands of scenarios his mind kept on creating for his reunion with his friend. He understood such reunion was only possible in the realm of dreams —he wouldn’t even know where to start searching for the other if he decided to do so, how to reach out to him after all this time, whether or not he still deserved to do so— and so he tried his best to enjoy in the realm of reality for as long as he could.

If there was anything he had been learning as he read Miss Greenwood’s life, it was to at least try that much.

Jin would break down to cry in the oddest places and times.

In the middle of a Linguistics course as the teacher passionately explained the levels of linguistic analysis proposed by Halliday. As he was taking the second bite of that humongous hamburger from the place near the campus. As he was walking Pin through the city and the puppy decided to mark his territory. Watching a rerun of Friends, on that funny episode with the Turkey’s head.

It didn’t have to be something special and touching. It didn’t even have to be related with his friends.

At any minute of the day, Jin would fall on his knees and sob with passion.

One day he did, in one of the hallways of his university. It wasn’t particularly crowded, but there were enough people to stare and murmur and form a semi-circle around Jin. Just a bunch of strangers looking for the unexpected amusement of the day, except for that guy that crutched down next to Jin, patted his back politely, and asked him if he was okay.

“He’s obviously not, Nakamaru,” a girl answered in a know-it-all tone, taking a handkerchief from her purse and, passing the delicate flower-embroidered cloth to Jin, pushed the other guy aside. “It’s okay to cry, sweetie, but let’s try to calm that breathing, okay?”

After that behavior to Nakamaru who was now on the ground rubbing his arm, it was startling she could utter such a caring tone.

The perfume in the hankie was so sickly sweet, that Jin started having a coughing fit.

A senpai of his was passing nearby and, worried about the situation, hurried to carry Jin to the infirmary under the half-concerned, half-amused look of their classmates.

Jin didn’t come back to his afternoon classes.

He didn’t come back at all.

He woke to the sound of rain.

And so, the rain followed him around on his hasty journey through the city.

Covered under his see-through umbrella, Jin made his way through the less-crowded little streets of Tokyo. It always took him longer to reach his destination this way, but it felt safer not to be surrounded by strangers.

It was always easier to face his fears without little monsters lurking around.

“You made it in time,” the doctor said with a measured smile that didn’t really disguise her surprise.

Jin managed a nod and walked into the small office trying not to knock down the umbrella stand again, but bumping into the coffee table anyway.

It was hard to coordinate his movements when his mind was wondering somewhere 20 years ago in his foggy past.

He had found the doctor’s ad in an old newspaper —an ad as sober as her grey dress-suit, but a dim warmth was conveyed in it that drew Jin in to give it a try. The last doctor had been an utter disappointment, nothing but a blatherskite that merely told Jin he was too bored and he had to do stuff to feel better.

Doing stuff… the fucking cure to depression.

But not this doctor, no. Ishikawa-sensei was different and Jin had seen it in her smile and the affable “So you’re Jin, right?” she had welcomed him with.

Since then, there had not been a single mention of boredom or doing stuff; no mumbo-jumbo about traveling around the world and meeting new people to find yourself, or doing stuff that hustled Jin’s breath just at the thought of.

Ishikawa-sensei was different, she was the real thing.

“How are you?” Jin shrugged the difficult question as he took his seat on the sofa across the doctor.

She gave it another try without a blink of her eyes.

“How are you today?”

Rain had always been a somewhat awful companion to their sessions, serving as a white noise that muted Jin almost completely. That’s why the doctor hadn’t tried with the usual comment about the weather that didn’t really give her an insightful answer, but always made Jin talk.

“Can’t we start with something easier?” Jin mumbled and the doctor hummed in response.

But no sound came from Jin after that.

He couldn’t seem to fish a single easy topic from the stormy waters whirling in his head. Nothing was easy anymore —not when he had lost his friend all those years ago and the time had continued to tick away anyways.

“How come the world didn’t stop back then?”

“Back then?”

Jin snapped out and looked at the doctor with horrified eyes.

Had he said that out loud?

No. The doctor must have developed the power of reading out his silences and interpreting his eyes, making out words from his breathing even. She could probably translate by now the meaning behind his every move and the cadence of his one-word answers.

He could not have said that out loud.

And yet, he did.

“Jin, breathe,” she pled in a calming voice. “That’s good… Breathe in and out… Once again… Good boy, everything will be fine…”

That was yet again another of her powers: with a few instructions and her soft tone, she could calm him down whenever emotions overflowed him… something that happened quite a lot.

A few more intakes and air was starting to get into his lungs, pushing out the abrasive, cold smoke that was oppressing his chest.

He could breathe again… things were ok.

“Except that they're not.”

“They're not what, Jin?”

“Okay…! The things, I mean...” he hurried to add. “They're not okay.”

A short silence stretched for longer than it should be permitted, but neither Jin nor the doctor did anything about it.

Until its existence began suffocating him again and the doctor had to intervene.

“Are you sleeping?”

Jin nodded.

“Yes, I am, b-but...” It's everything I ever do. “But...”

“Yes?”

Jin shook his head 'no'.

“How’s school? You are going to classes, aren't you?” She pressed when Jin had only given her another weak, disinterested nod.

“I’m going to class… sometimes,” not in the past two weeks, though.

He heard what was coming next even before the words were uttered.

“How about work?”

“I’m keeping the same… still.”

He had been properly going to work every night at the conbini near his place. He didn’t have a choice, though, having to pay rent and all his expenses.

“How about friends?”

Jin cleared his throat and looked at the clock on the wall before losing his gaze outside the window. A thin layer of fog had covered the city while the doctor tried to engage Jin in a proper conversation, and only the raindrops hitting the window glass were visible now.

Jin cleared his throat again. Everything important was slipping further and further away.

“I'm doing just fine, okay?” He breathed out lies. “I'm going to school and work afterward.” More lies. “I sleep at least 8 hours a day.” Just lies. “I eat three meals a day.”

Everything was…

“I watch TV.”

…Nothing but lies.

“I take Pin for his daily walks.”

Lies, lies, lies.

“I'm nothing but a fucking honorable, outstanding citizen of this fucking city and that’s why I’m fucking here.”

“Jin!” Her voice rose to a newly discovered tone of worry and exasperation. “No need to be angry.”

Jin clicked his tongue.

“Except...” He breathed for the first time. “Except that I'm dying here, doctor. I'm not happy-”

“I know, Jin.”

“And I miss my friend,” his voice broke.

The doctor had readjusted the clipboard on her lap, ready to take notes on Jin’s elaboration on this new topic. There had to be more words, Jin would definitely talk more about this friend that he missed and was obviously behind his current disarrayed state. But whatever it was that he had wanted —needed— to share, he opted to stay silent yet again.

“About some pills-?” He shyly tried without looking directly at the doctor.

“Tell me about this friend of yours… and I might consider prescribing something.”

This question wrecked the thick mask of lies Jin had been covering with in the past days —weeks, months, or even all his lifetime.

And so, he didn’t open his mouth for the rest of the hour.