Chapter Text
It would be a lie to say that Rin Kagamine is uninterested in the world at large.
She is interested. That’s why she informs herself about matters like politics, the economy, pop culture, and various worldly events, whether they affect her personally or not.
It’s important to keep oneself up to date, after all.
What she isn’t interested in, however, is interpersonal relationships.
Aside from her twin brother, Len, she completely lacks the drive or willingness to get involved with other people. This stems from the elemental truth that other people are inexplicable, and — more often than not — disappointing.
Rin finds reassurance in reflecting on the state of humanity as a sort of monolithic creature, one that moves and acts entirely separate from herself. She observes her surroundings from a safe and respectful distance, pushing any perceived loneliness to the farthest corners of her mind.
Time flows in stasis, as it has since her mother passed away and her father up and left her. Change is scary, so she nurtures the illusion that everything will remain the same if she turns around and walks against the current.
With her brother being the one constant in her life, she clings to him like she’d cling to a buoy on open waters. Because without him, vast oceans leave her vulnerable.
She doesn’t know how to make it out there on her own.
That is, until the hand of fate forces her to.
———
Fukase Satoshi is, in Rin’s opinion, as strange and inexplicable as they come.
His appearance is decidedly scruffy; his ill-fitting clothes hang off his body, ripped and worn in a way that’s meant to be ”stylish” — a ridiculous notion by itself. In the name of fashion, he’s also decided that puncturing every available surface of his ears with cheap piercings is the look to go for, and Rin can’t begin to fathom how he thought that was a sound idea.
But wait, it gets worse.
The boy has what can only be described as a mop of red hair sitting atop his head, and judging by how frizzy it is, he clearly has no clue how to take care of it. Rin often thinks about what wonders a nice trim and a good-quality conditioner could do for that hair. But she hasn’t told Fukase that, since she’s fairly certain that telling someone what to do with their hair is a massive no-no if you like having friends… which she assumes is what they are. Friends.
And for the record, it’s not like she dislikes everything about him.
She’s not that shallow, okay?
For instance, she doesn’t hate it when she spots him waiting for her at the university’s main entrance (even though she’s told him he doesn’t have to do that).
She doesn’t hate it when he looks up, sees her, and waves his whole arm like he’s happy to see her (God knows why).
Nor does she hate it when she comes up to him and he smiles a smile that would probably have benefitted from braces at some point (not that his teeth are ugly, they’re just a little crooked).
She doesn’t hate any of this, because, as much as it pains her to admit it… this might just be the highlight of her day.
”’Sup?” Fukase says in greeting, joining up at her side as they funnel in with the other students walking towards the doors.
”Your face is stupid”, Rin deadpans in response. Most people would take this as an insult. Fukase is not most people.
”It’s good to see you too”, he says, the stupid smile growing wider on his stupid face.
This is how it always goes.
They have a… thing.
A schtick, if you will.
Rin is not thrilled about it.
They step outside into a world of short sleeves and bare legs; clusters of students gathered on picnic blankets spread across the lawn, drinking boba tea and sharing maki rolls from the sushi place around the corner. It’s late spring, a few weeks out from summer break, and everyone on campus seems to be taking advantage of the dazzling sunshine.
Rin doesn’t think any of them has a brother who’s been in a coma for nearly five months.
Must be nice.
”Didn’t you see me at lunch today?” Fukase asks out of the blue. He does that a lot, speaks without being prompted. It’s weird. ”I was trying to get you to come over.”
”I saw you”, Rin says. ”But I ignored you.”
”I figured”, Fukase says, almost sapiently. ”I don’t get why, though. You should’ve had lunch with us. You look so depressing sitting by yourself.”
Rin resists the instinct to scowl at him. ”Piko doesn’t like me.”
”Yeah, I’ve noticed. What’s that about anyway?”
”Beats me. He’s always had a stick up his ass.”
Fukase snorts. ”You’re the one to talk.”
Rin snaps her head around and shoots him a glare that used to shut him up in an instant, but her weapon of choice has dulled as of lately. Fukase isn’t fazed at all.
”See? You’re just proving my point when you do that”, he says. ”You gotta stop acting like everyone’s got it out for you. People might actually like you if you weren’t so quick to snub them.”
”I don’t ’gotta do’ anything”, Rin grumbles, hands deep in the pockets of her hoodie. Fukase can sigh and roll his eyes as much as he wants, but that’s the end of the discussion. At least he knows when to quit.
They get to the bus stop just in time for the bus to arrive. Fukase lets her have the window seat, which coincidentally is another thing she doesn’t hate about him. The bus motor starts up with a rumble and Rin habitually adjusts the cuffs of her sleeves over her wrists. She can feel a trail of cold sweat running down her spine as the vehicle lurches into motion, the heel of her shoe tapping against the floor.
Highlight of the day is over.
Now they’re on the eighteen-minute transit across the Styx.
[Destination: Tartarus, Hades]
Fukase has the genetic composition of the archetypal class clown, meaning his go-to solution for any uncomfortable situation is diversion. While Rin’s silence grows all the louder, Fukase runs his mouth to no end. Every time he pauses and looks to her for a reaction, she pretends she’s listened, hums noncommittally, and he gets straight back to it.
You have to admire his gumption, however misguided it is.
Rin chews her nails.
The bus stops right in from of the hospital, and the two of them tumble out of the automatic doors. Fukase takes the lead, which in addition to being something Rin doesn’t hate, is something she’s actively grateful for. He doesn’t even seem irritated that she’s clipping the back of his clunky shoes in the lobby, just casts a glance over his shoulder and raises a brow at her.
”You good?”
He always asks that.
”Yep.”
She always lies.
It’s the smell she hates the most. Layers of chemicals ooze from the fluorescent-lit surfaces around them as they walk down the corridors, everything painted pristine, impersonal white. Whatever greenery and artwork has been added to spruce up the interior only makes the emptiness more off-putting, and it does little to distract from the glaring reality of disease, misery and death.
Rin has her gaze firmly fixed on Fukase’s back, making sure he’s the main object that takes up her field of view. Short of shutting her eyes and covering her ears like she’s a frightened kid on a dark ride, it’s all she can think to do to stay relatively calm. She focuses on breathing through her mouth, sticking as close to Fukase as she can without bumping into him.
She doesn’t hold out hope that this is the day Len wakes up. It’s better to be prepared for disappointment, because disappointment is a fact of life, unavoidable in its essence.
Fukase hasn’t learned that yet.
Rin can see how he visibly deflates when he opens the door to Len’s room. He tries to mask his resignation with a half-smile and a shrug, as if this is but a minor setback and that it doesn’t crush his soul in real-time.
Paper thin. See-through. Idiot.
”Guess today’s not the day, huh?” he says, taking a chair from the far left corner of the room to place at Len’s bedside. Rin leaves the door ajar and follows his example. Hands clasped on her lap, she sits muted while he talks to the unconscious boy bundled under the sheets. Her brother, his boyfriend.
She never knows how he does it. Len doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid, but that won’t stop Fukase from giving him an overly detailed exposition of his daily activities. He holds Len’s too-skinny and too-pale hand in his own, wrapping his voice with honey that seeps into every word he speaks to the person he so barefacedly adores.
Rin feels herself merging into the background. Half an hour goes by without her existing in any meaningful sense. She passes the time staring out the window, studying the patterns in the negative space between maple leaves, becoming that same space that no-one notices.
She is the nothing hole; the place wherein something could be, but nothing presently is.
”Hey.” Fukase turns to her and Rin blinks back into existence. ”Do you want to say anything?”
She shakes her head.
”You sure?”
She nods.
”Do you want to leave?”
She nods again.
”Alright."
Fukase returns her nod, turning briefly back to Len to kiss his knuckles as he tenderly whispers a goodbye. A heavy-hearted smile touches the single dimple in his cheek, and if Rin were anyone else, she might’ve said something, done something, that could’ve brought him a shred of comfort.
Then the door to Len’s room closes, and Fukase disappears down the corridor.
Her window had closed.
Having reentered to the outside world once more, Rin comes up for air as an intense feeling of relief washes over her. It feels like she hasn’t breathed for the past hour.
The hospital smell lingers in her system, so she spends the next minute switching it out for thriving blossoms and sunbaked pavement. Color and warmth envelop her senses, reminding her that she’s alive, that she made it out on the other side today as well.
Fukase loiters around somewhere behind her. He doesn’t do that, usually. There must be something on his mind.
”I don’t have work today”, he says. He looks at her, clearly expecting her to say something. Rin doesn’t understand what he wants from her.
”Okay?”
Fukase looks down at his feet. There’s a faint tinge of pink to his face. ”So, like… I’m free, if you want to do something.”
Rin frowns. ”Like what?”
Fukase mirrors her frustration, running a hand through his hair as he kicks bits of gravel across the ground. Some of them pile up around her toes. ”I dunno. Whatever you want. I’m asking you if you want to hang out.”
”Oh…” Rin looks down too. Nobody’s asked her to ”hang out” in years. It seems very daunting all at once. ”I don’t know… I have some stuff I need to do. School stuff.”
”Right… Okay”, Fukase grunts. He’s not fooled by the worst lie ever. Imagine that.
”Maybe another time?” Rin attempts to smooth things over, shaping her fingers around the knot in her stomach before she lifts her chin.
It’s impressive how quickly Fukase collects his features into something considerably more forgiving than she deserves. The one eye that’s not covered by his long bangs regards her softly, assuring her that there’s no harm done and no hard feelings.
”Sure”, he says. ”See you tomorrow, yeah?”
”Mm, see you then”, Rin responds, sheepishly splaying her hand in a small wave.
She watches Fukase shrink as he heads to the second bus stop further down the street. Though his awkward, lumbering walk and godawful posture unnerves her in a way she can’t put into words, Rin feels that it’s high time to turn her gaze inwards and crumples with a deep sigh.
”What the hell is wrong with me?”
———
When all else fails, you run from your problems — literally.
Rin keeps track of her time on the display of her smart watch as she barrels through a quiet residential area, one foot in front of the other at a raging pace. There is no music or podcast to distract from the fire in her lungs and her legs, bursts of pain setting her vision to the stars above. The wind tears through her hair. Perspiration sticks to every inch of her skin. She tastes blood in her mouth, and it’s wonderful.
With her sweat suit whipping around her, she stumbles to a stop at a street lamp and chugs down some water. Her chest heaves, her hands tremble from a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion, and she winds up pouring a quarter of her bottle on the ground thanks to the sloppiness of her effort.
Still, this is good. Much better than having her own voice echo back at her in the empty tomb of a house that’s waiting for her. The thought alone makes her shudder.
Rin has taken up exercising more often since Len’s accident. She used to be quite athletic and wanted to join a track and field team when she was younger (or soccer, she hadn’t decided), but that was before things went how they went and nothing came of it.
Her legs are short but surprisingly powerful. It’s one of the few aspects she actually likes about her body. A decent pair of legs can do a lot for you in life, she reckons, despite knowing how frequently she’s found herself running in place, going nowhere… stuck.
Suddenly she doesn’t feel so good anymore.
For the last ten minutes or so, she opts for a steady jog instead. The streets lay largely abandoned at this time of night, but there is the odd dog owner out for a stroll. Rin spies one coming from the opposite direction on the other side of the road, squinting through the gloom at the individual in question.
No wonder they look familiar; it’s Flower, that other person who hangs out with Fukase and Piko. They’re walking two funny-looking dogs, and Rin slows down to rack her brains for the name of the breed.
Greyhound, she recalls, nodding happily to herself. Like the bus.
It’s just her luck that Flower swivels their head at that moment and catches her eye under the light of the street lamp. Rin swiftly looks away and jogs on.
It’s rude to stare.
The house is every bit as desolated as she left it. She sent a text to Meiko before she went running, asking her if she was planning on coming home tonight. She’s not the slightest surprised by the reply she’s received.
”Slammed with work. Staying at the loft. Order yourself something nice for dinner. xx”
This is the third night in a row that Rin is on her lonesome, while her aunt cowers at her shoebox rental apartment in the next city over.
You’d think she’d want to spend more time at the pricey property she purchased with her hard-earned money, which has all the creature comforts one could wish for and plenty to spare. But then again, she’d also have to spend more time with her insufferable niece, so perhaps she chose the lesser of two evils.
Submitting to the idea of not speaking to another human before noon tomorrow, Rin peels off her clothes in her ensuite bathroom and tosses them into the laundry basket.
Her usual routine follows.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror she’s hung up for this specific purpose, she checks the entirety of her body. She mentally jots down the appearance of her moles and marks, ignoring the smattering of almost-healed ridges that cover her forearms.
She feels out for irregularities, for lumps in her chest, her neck, her armpits, her thighs, her stomach and her scalp, kneading soft tissue between her fingers.
Last but not least, she steps close to her reflection and opens her mouth wide, meticulously reviewing her oral cavity from every possible angle.
Everything seems fine.
She can relax, for now.
Into the shower she goes, washing away the dirt and grime that’s accumulated in the crevices of her body over the day. She likes her showers scalding hot, hot enough that steam billows up to the ceiling and turns the whole room into a sauna. She scrubs herself down from head to toe until she’s squeaky clean, stepping out of the shower feeling like a freshly born human being. The thorough cleanse is accompanied by an equally thorough moisturization, before she pulls on a pair of cotton pajamas and heads back downstairs.
She doesn’t order takeout like Meiko suggested. Her dinner consists of a greek yoghurt bowl with some fresh berries, granola and a spoonful of peanut butter. It’s not enough food, she knows, especially after all the calories she’s burned during her run. But it’s what she can manage to get down without feeling like it’s growing in her mouth when she chews it.
She used to enjoy eating. She used to enjoy cooking, too, back when she was mommy’s little helper, when there were head pats and spoons to lick and she had a given place in this universe. Fun-sized Rin had a matching apron and a stepping stool to boost her over the ledge of the kitchen counter, safe in the knowledge that her mom would scoop her up and kiss the hurt away at the sight of blistered or bleeding fingertips.
But in her memory, the scent of thyme and rosemary from Sunday dinner is tainted by the overpowering stench of disinfectant. The gentle hand that used to pat her head becomes one of skin and bone, so weak it can hardly lift itself from the mattress. The sound of a beating heart within her mom’s embrace turns into a flatline… and that’s all Rin will know from that point onward.
She doesn’t finish her yoghurt bowl. About half of it gets thrown in the garbage disposal while she idly considers disposing of herself in the same manner. If nothing else, her self-destructive impulses leave something to be desired, and she’s truly not so dumb that she would try it out.
The evening ends anticlimactically with her lying in bed. She counts the hours of solitude ahead of her, well aware that sleep loves to play hide and seek and she’s the biggest loser. She might catch a few minutes of shut-eye before dawn if she’s lucky, but she’s not counting on it.
Insomnia is a bitch.
The sky remains unchanging outside her window, a satellite blinking at her from the pitch black depths. Thoughts churn like a spinning wheel in the back of her head, gradually processing impressions and emotions into a more digestible format.
She thinks about Fukase.
She thinks about Len.
She thinks about Meiko.
She thinks about her mom.
And as drowsiness finally rolls in to muffle the inner workings of her mind, she thinks about someone with watery blue eyes, a distant voice from a bygone era, and slender fingers that carefully brush her hair out of her face.
She won’t remember that someone when she wakes up.