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sometimes, ren hears his voice.
not in a ghastly, hallucination kind of way. definitely not; more like, his camera roll app sends him notifications about summer memories, makes short clips with videos messily compiled together. and he just watches them, laughing as he does. something pricks at the back of his heart, but he doesn't understand what it is yet. he replays the videos, and after a while, they grow stale, ren being able to quote them in a heartbeat. then, it feels less like a summer memory, and more like a burden. he doesn't want those memories to become burdens. just the thought sends an ache through his body.
the winter air felt even more frigid than usual, or maybe he couldn't quite tolerate the cold anymore. either that, or he wasn't dressing well enough, his parents not being around to scold him for doing so. often, he felt that such freedom sort of stabbed him in the back. maybe that could mean more than just feeling cold in december.
he sometimes hears his voice when the early morning tv blares a familiar laugh, eloquent vocabulary, a sound that once had him rushing out of bed, dashing down the stairs of the cafe under the eyes of a few early bird customers. it's happened quite a few times, being woken up by akechi's voice downstairs, the words he uttered fusing with whatever dream he was having. he's only lost his senses over it once.
the first time it happened, it was a cold, early december sunday. yusuke was there, and nobody else. ren doesn't really recall what the taller boy was even doing in leblanc so early, but then again, the entire day ended up being a blur in his memory.
he remembers sojiro turning down the sound, looking a little taken aback, and yusuke shushing him a little, stumbling forward from his seat to cradle him. but he didn't really feel like he needed anyone to hug him, nor did he need anyone to lower the volume. he didn't think he wanted to cry, and yet he felt warmth run down his cheeks, felt shivers shake his entire body.
...but he really didn't feel like shedding any tears. nor did he feel any sadness at all.
something deep down convinced him akechi didn't die, down there, in that stuffy engine room. actually, he was sure of it. he'd been going around telling himself goro was probably working on himself. or perhaps exacting another revenge plan, maybe against ren, maybe against shido, or maybe against himself.
he'd get looked at a little pitifully by makoto when he'd mention things like how goro probably reacted seeing their country-wide calling card, he'd make the room go silent by bringing his name up. but he'd quickly change the subject after that, because that's how he was. afraid of confrontation. of getting dragged back to reality. something else deep down also convinced him he shouldn't let anyone talk to him regarding the detective. he shouldn't let anyone mention him dying. he shouldn't let anyone mention his name.
ren hadn't really thought of akechi's death. he knew it was a possibility, but he'd never found himself actually thinking about it, pondering what it meant. what death meant. it scratched at the back of his mind a little. he wishes he could've seen goro's face during as ren made his promise. huh... but ren had never been one to regret. before that morning, he hadn't cried for akechi yet. he hadn't really felt anything. he should've felt guilty about it, but he didn't. he just… didn't feel anything.
when flowers wilt, their seeds go on to spread its life elsewhere. seasons are made to repeat. but what happens when seedlings die? when they don't have anything to spread? is that what dying in vain is? but akechi didn’t die in vain. akechi didn’t die.
ren didn't know anymore. and so, on that sunday morning, he cried. cried and grieved, felt his heart rip in two, over a boy who he still thought was alive.
he remembers yusuke calling his name, remembers seeing him cry a little too, remembers sojiro having to step out of the cafe. and he didn't understand why he had made this happen. he blames himself a little, blames whoever decided to rebroadcast this old interview from june in december. he blames goro a little. he doesn’t want to.
"they're necessary," ren hears his own voice speak on the now barely audible television, recalls the nervousness he had felt during those few moments of being on the spotlight. and akechi just giggled a little in response, told him he wasn't expecting that answer. what was he expecting then? did he even mean what he said? ren felt a little nauseous. the detective's laugh echoes a little through his mind. is he haunting me? he can't be. goro’s not a ghost. he's alive.
but a living boy who's lips ren has felt against his would have probably done something, said something after two weeks. maybe he's finding his words. or maybe he's dead, buried in that metaverse shipwreck, surrounded by those words he's forced himself to swallow back for months, words he's taken to the grave.
and even throughout a gentle kiss shared under flickering lightbulbs, coffee cups and ground beans, ren knew this was bound to end soon. knew the warm peck left on his forehead would eventually be replaced by cold metal, by trickling blood. he still doesn't know how exactly akechi tried to kill him. was he happy about it? did he cry? he's not sure if knowing would be a good thing. ren is clueless to a lot of things.
he spent the rest of his day in his room. yusuke didn't want to leave, and so he stayed. sojiro didn't want to turn the tv back on for the day, and so he didn't. it felt quite simple, and maybe it was, in the end. or maybe not. morgana curls up in his lap as yusuke slips a vhs into ren's old tv. he aimlessly watches, lets himself fall asleep on yusuke's shoulder, but he doesn't speak to him. he doesn't really move much. he feels a little guilty about it.
he hears the actors of whatever oldie movie yusuke put on speak as he rocks between sleep and wake. one of them asks something along the lines of you hate him that much? a young woman responds, i'd run off as soon as i could if i had to be with him. ren catches himself thinking of akechi again, feeling plagued. did akechi mean what he said when he told him he hated him? his head hurt a little.
"...yusuke. what's this movie called?" he mumbles a little, opening his eyes. yusuke turns a little gently, pulling the duvet back up to cover more of ren as morgana adjusts himself between the two of them.
"late spring," yusuke answers, quietly, trying not to disturb ren as he's still waking up. "from the late forties."
spring. ren thinks of time. he had met akechi during the late days of spring, though the weather during those days often convinces him it was during early summer. and as the seasons grew colder, they grew closer, searching for the heat they had lost, trying to find it in each other. seasons. time. he furrows his eyebrows, realizing something, though he's not sure what clicked exactly just yet.
"...if you want to cry, you shouldn't hold back." but ren shakes his head in response.
"i'm not going to cry," ren whispers, sitting up a little. he looks to the right, sees small snowflakes fall behind the window, to be easily mistaken for rain. winter approaches, though the solstice was still in a week or so. he hears a crow’s caw from afar, an echo that reaches his ears. he doesn’t react. "...akechi is dead," he adds, conversational, as if he was simply stating facts. in a way, he was.
yusuke doesn't respond for a while, doesn't move. his hand searches for ren's, lacing their fingers. ren's not sure what this means; he can’t squeeze another thought into his brain. he squeezes yusuke's hand back, and he feels his heart beat in his throat as his own words echo in his mind. he is dead. ren lied. he wanted to cry more than anything during those few moments.
"...goro doesn't hate me." he felt many things contradict that thought, but he decides to leave it at that. he can't pull answers out of a dead man. in akechi's case, he probably still wouldn't be able to, even if he was alive. goro is dead. it still feels heavy in the back of his tongue, it prickles his stomach. if goro had met another during that tv station trip, would things have turned out the same? ren's mind feels cloudy as he thinks. but not much connecting is done. he simply looks through mental images. he doesn’t react to anything; he doesn’t want to.
"ren, no. he loved you," yusuke whispered, and ren nods a little, feeling dizzy. his heart feels like it's beating for two, and he considers maybe he's holding onto akechi's. maybe. he wants to be. love, he repeats in his head.
"...will i be okay?" ren asks, and he's not sure why he's doing so. yusuke isn't some psychic that can predict the future, though it kind of felt like it at that moment. maybe ren just wanted him to be one. morgana rubs himself against ren's abdomen, and he let the hand that wasn't holding yusuke's go up to pet him a little.
"you're going to be okay," yusuke grins a little. ren doesn't respond, though he gives yusuke's hand a small squeeze. the smiling boy squeezes back. the movie ends. he still has trouble thinking straight.
late spring comes to an end, summer follows. ren smiles a little at the stupid thought, looking outside to see those small icy droplets have been replaced by big, fluttering snowflakes.
winter begins, ren's heart warms up.