‘ akon… ’ he watched akon struggle, swallowing and regurgitating and stumbling over his own words and thoughts. they had that in common too —- both truly learned men possessing vast knowledge and the authoritative voice in their field, nonetheless found themselves struggling to express themselves when it came to matters of their hearts.
he had become so much better, in these years. like a clamped shell that could not be pried open by force, willingly relaxed its muscles and revealing its soft tissues in fresh, clean water. because akon had made him feel safe, and understood —— a most paradoxical position to be in given who the man was centuries ago. and was now.
perhaps there was a time when he looked at akon with rose-tinted glass, or at least one that was colored by passion and heightened impulse. but he never stayed in that zone for long. innocent naivete and unrestrained romanticism were luxuries he could not afford. them being who they were. ryuuken knew exactly who akon was, and what the man was capable of. and he would not allow himself to love a version of akon that was any less than who he truly was.
it was partly out of love, and respect. and partly a soberness ryuuken carried himself with —- he had responsibilities, not just to himself but others who relied on him. he had a legacy. he had his duties. he had a son.
so when akon spoke those words –– those truthful words –– ryuuken thought of the man akon was, and then, he thought of uryuu. of what he had always told uryuu ( save the living. live in the moment. live in this world. and accept that people die —- ) and what example he wanted to set for the boy.
‘ … akon … ’ he let out a sound that could only be made by someone who was trying to breathe and to swallow at the same time. it was his turn to hold onto akon’s arm connected to that hand that clasped behind his neck. his brows quivered against the bridge of akon’s nose, as they remained pressed close. the taste of akon’s lips still lingered on his lips.
‘ you know what happens after a quincy dies. ’ he squeezed akon’s hand tight in his hand, gazing into those deep, dark eyes. he knew how much it would hurt akon to hear these words said aloud, and he never wanted to hurt akon. the least he could do was to look into his eyes. ‘ my family had one of the purest bloodlines among those who remained in the world of the living. the connection with yhwach is strong. most likely … as soon as the soul leaves the moral body, it’ll be absorbed by the emperor before it ever reaches soul society. ’
he spoke almost clinically, referring to his soul like an organ —— vital, sure. essential, even. but ultimately divorced from the core of his being, of what made of his life. ryuuken would rather think that. that what made him and what made his life true and felt cannot be absorbed nor taken from him.
‘ … you’re not going to fight that. ’ he held his gaze against akon’s. ‘ nothing good has ever come of people trying to fight for or against yhwach. even in his current state, there’s more that goes on than what we should try to control. i don’t want you to attempt something as reckless as interfering with it. –– promise me you won’t. ’
as for the other way … ryuuken felt a chill run down his spine. he said nothing. his jaw clenched softly as he swallowed.
He should have kept his mouth shut, a needle and thread taken to his lips to ensure that he could not speak again. That is the thought that settles at the forefront of his mind. That is what consumes him while gazing into Ryuuken’s face. As he bares witness to the sort of turmoil his words have caused. Perhaps he would do just that. Push the curved, surgical tool through the muscle and the flesh of his mouth - bind it tight with thick, black thread that could not be easily undone... If Ryuuken were to witness it, if he were privy to these sort of dark thoughts that the lieutenant oft had would he find himself surprised by that? Akon doubted as much. He had asked him to cut him open once and meant it. So not surprised at least but... disgusted? Revolted? Would he feel unease?
The man before him knew exactly what sort of man he was. What sort of things he was capable of and what sort of degeneracy he put himself through for decades before Ryuuken had even been conceived as a thought. There was no way to go back and erase that; and in some fashion the both of them knew that he probably wouldn’t even if given the opportunity to do so. Because there was something broken inside of him from the moment of his birth, a place of which Akon never spoke upon but expressed acknowledgement of. Yes, the man before him knew of all of that and still he accepted him as he was.
The hand upon his arm feels as if it grabs him with a sense of desperation, as though he is pleading first through touch before he begins to speak. Akon cannot find himself surprised by the words no matter how much they ache him to listen, the fingers along the back of his neck clutching tighter unintentionally. He doesn’t need to ground himself, it’s the sanity he feels is slipping. The carefully curated self that Ryuuken had helped sculpt with his affection, with his love and admiration - with everything that he gave him. Perhaps this moment hurts more for the fact that Akon had learned this information long before either of them had ever crossed paths. His knowledge of quincy was... horrifically intimate.
Akon keeps his mouth shut regardless as Ryuuken speaks, the metaphorical threads he had bound his lips with for the time being. He can only stare. He can only listen. This is the first conversation the two of them are having about this topic, the first time Akon had been able to bring himself to nearly say it. Ryuuken would one day die and leave him behind. He would be forced to know what it was like to have had him, and then be in that same world without him. The knowledge of that had always, in some ways, sat in his chest like an uninvited guest who did not know what manners were. Spilling anguish across the floor of him, leaving the garbage to pile up in his heart until it began to rot.
He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised at the request that suddenly leaves Ryuuken’s mouth. Once more reminding the both of them that he knew what sort of man Akon was. But it is not that, the shinigami wants to tell him. It is not the things of which he would do to keep Ryuuken bound to a world he did not willingly choose. He was not that cruel. At least he liked to think he was not that cruel when it regarded him. It was something else that consumed his mind. Of what if he could not survive the being left behind? What if he didn’t want to? What if it was a conscious choice of which he wanted to make? What then?
“I wouldn’t do that to you.” Akon finally replies, pulling back enough that his unoccupied hand comes to rest atop Ryuuken’s eyes. He cannot see them in this moment, he does not want to see his eyes. He wonders if he should continue his confession or if the cruelty of what he had already said was enough? Ryuuken was a smart man. He would be able to piece it all together soon enough, if he hadn’t already. They remain like this for some time, a few seconds or a minute Akon does not know. His hand over Ryuuken’s eyes, the other still held fast along the back of his neck. What does he say now? Where do they go from here?
“I promise.” Akon swallows, feels the blood rushing in his ears. The invisible threads are loose from the words he’s just spoke, they free his tongue to continue unprovoked. “I’ve never considered that you would... choose to stay.”
Would that hurt Ryuuken to hear? Yes. Most certainly. He keeps his hand still held loft of Ryuuken’s eyes so that he does not have to see what further damage he has caused. In his own chest was a wound, his own words a knife of which he cut himself open further. “It is the living after that I don’t want.”