All my Friends, This is the End. [Chapter 6: end]
injury tw (mentioning the ones from the execution), death tw, dismemberment tw (brief mention)
So. It was all over.
For him, anyways. He’d been executed. It had been.... rough, Junpei would admit, although he hadn’t really surprised. He had figured that the mastermind would be quite angry at him for the betrayal- but then again, wasn’t that what traitors did? He’d rather successfully managed to stab everyone in the back to at least some degree, so a brutal execution was to be expected.
When he’d first opened his eyes after dying, he’d assumed he’d jumped. After all- he could never remember being a ghost. Whenever he’d died, it was simply as if his existence.... faded. He just stopped 'being’, as the darkness crept up and pulled him into a comforting nothingness. So, it’d been natural to assume the same had happened there, right?
Except he’d looked, he’d seen his own blood, and he’d seen all of them.
He’d thrown his hood up as soon as he realized that he was dead- if the others were anything to go by, that would likely mean his own body still reflected what it’d looked like when he’d died. While it’d been quick, he still figured that the back of his skull would not be pleasant to look at.... not that the rest of him looked too pretty, either.
Naturally, he’d wanted to get away. After all- they should’ve all hated him, right? He was as culpable as the mastermind, regardless of the fact that he’d wanted to stop the game- he was the reason all of them were here, like this.
And yet before he could leave, Mugman had thrown his arms around him and kissed him, and every wall Junpei could’ve possibly tried to throw up crumbled in an instant.
Everything seemed to move quickly after that, Junpei unsure of what really to say or do once everyone had filed out of the trial room. He’d followed the others, staying near Mugman for a while... but eventually, he needed space. He needed to have at least a little time to be alone.
He wasn’t thinking when he walked, simply wandering aimlessly through the park until he realized that his feet had brought him to the ride- the ride where Mugman had died. Where everything had gone so wrong, so fast.
Of course he wouldn’t show it, but his shoulder was screaming in pain. Not just from the bullet, probably still in there- but the axe had further fucked his shoulder up quite seriously. The only reason he hadn’t been showing a ton of pain for that entire week had been the painkillers, and the fact that he’d died before. It was easy to tolerate things when he could compare it to being literally stabbed, or having his arm cut off. Easy to pretend like every little movement hadn’t been hurting, especially as time went on and the poorly-done patch-job started to show wear.
After a few moments, his legs gave out and he slid to the ground, body weak. His left arm slumped to the side, bloodied and mostly useless at the moment, his back screamed in pain, and he had the worst headache of his life. Or.... un-life, perhaps. After all, he had died.
He didn’t really know how to feel right now.
On the one hand- he felt like he’d failed, completely and utterly. He’d known that the trial wouldn’t be able to end things so simply, but he’d still hoped that perhaps, he could figure something out. But he hadn’t. And yet.... despite that, he couldn’t say it had been completely in vain. Every single plan he’d come up with had broken down completely, he couldn’t say a single thing had really gone how he’d wanted it to, but.. he was glad they’d dragged the truth out of him. He was glad they hadn’t let things rest.
It was selfish, really. Selfish to want to be able to tell the truth, after so much time of lying. Selfish for him to want his final act to be so cleanly struck down. But still, he was glad. Glad that they knew the truth, glad that he’d been able to reassure them the best he could... and praying that they’d be able to overcome what remained.
He knew he couldn’t tell anyone who the mastermind was, still. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t around them anymore- he couldn’t. There was still too much at stake. He had no promise that Oswald wouldn’t be listening, and he would fully believe that the mastermind would still be willing to kill them all purely from spite- it was too dangerous. He couldn’t let the rest of them die, too.
Hero complex, or just a coward? He didn’t really know- but at this point, it didn’t really matter anymore. He was dead, and his role in this game was over. There were people who he wouldn’t be able to apologize to, people who he regretted not talking to before he’d gone to help the mastermind... people who he wouldn’t ever be able to talk to now. Hopefully, someone who survived would know, and be able to tell them the truth about him- if it hadn’t already been made horribly clear.
For just right now, he’d allow himself a little self-pity. He hurt too much to really do much else, after all.
Everything was coming to an end now, one way or another.
He could only hope that, at the very least... his friends truly would survive this.