[ Everything he speaks about has Denji feeling like the sun is setting into the pits of his stomach, cooling, leaving him frigid in the darkness; he keeps a hand clasped hard at Aki's neck like he's trying to draw heat back into his fingertips. Keep warm through the night using a flame that flickers at any singular movement. It's useless, so useless. That's what Aki's been telling him, what he's repeated to him continuously, and what he's continued to ignore: Aki's honest wish — he's been hounding for it, waiting for a sign of something else that he's seeking out besides a life of servitude to the government, of fetching the other pieces of Gun to self-assemble his own demise, and now Denji's got it. And, now, Denji doesn't want it.
At the hotel, Denji admitted that he cared about Aki. So is he saying, essentially, he doesn't want to be one of those long-term things? Or that he can't be? Can't be something that matters, someone that stays. He wants to understand him. He's trying so badly to. ]
…I guess you're the only guy who will tell me that stuff. [ The tip of his nose brushes close against the shell of his ear, past the long bristles of his damp hair, feigning that it's close enough. It's not. ] When you were gone, that was another thing I missed. You getting mad at us. Tellin' me off.
[ Losing that again… Yes, he can see it. He lived it, obviously, so he knows what a life without Aki will look like, even though it's the last thing he wants to imagine. An idea he's been denying this whole time, but he knows the truth. It's just another absence to survive. And if his plans to save him don't pan out, which is something he has to seriously consider, then —
His eyes shut as he breathes in, sniffing along the coast of his hairline long and ragged, like he's trying to extract another part of Aki to keep for himself. But, at this point, they both smell of the same detergent. ]
Remember what you said back at the hotel. You're gonna be the one to find me next time. We made a promise. So if I do what you want me to and make it big, you have to come back to see how well I'm doing. You can't forget.
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At the hotel, Denji admitted that he cared about Aki. So is he saying, essentially, he doesn't want to be one of those long-term things? Or that he can't be? Can't be something that matters, someone that stays. He wants to understand him. He's trying so badly to. ]
…I guess you're the only guy who will tell me that stuff. [ The tip of his nose brushes close against the shell of his ear, past the long bristles of his damp hair, feigning that it's close enough. It's not. ] When you were gone, that was another thing I missed. You getting mad at us. Tellin' me off.
[ Losing that again… Yes, he can see it. He lived it, obviously, so he knows what a life without Aki will look like, even though it's the last thing he wants to imagine. An idea he's been denying this whole time, but he knows the truth. It's just another absence to survive. And if his plans to save him don't pan out, which is something he has to seriously consider, then —
His eyes shut as he breathes in, sniffing along the coast of his hairline long and ragged, like he's trying to extract another part of Aki to keep for himself. But, at this point, they both smell of the same detergent. ]
Remember what you said back at the hotel. You're gonna be the one to find me next time. We made a promise. So if I do what you want me to and make it big, you have to come back to see how well I'm doing. You can't forget.