Coming to you live from a very steamy journal post~
Why, hello there, kittens! I'm Kanji, esteemed reporter of all things fabulous and ever so delightfully naughty, and I'm here with a most special update for a fandom just beginning its long, hard... journey into adulthood~!
SHIN MEGAMI TENSEI: PERSONA 4 KINK MEME
In this scintillating post of mine, you can comment anonymously with any pairing ( Read more... )
SHIN MEGAMI TENSEI: PERSONA 4 KINK MEME
In this scintillating post of mine, you can comment anonymously with any pairing ( Read more... )
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It is something he has always known, but Adachi has come to recognize with startling clarity that very few things in the world are free. Every morning, he locks the door after Dojima leaves, downs the rest of the man's coffee because he is too lazy to pour his own (and because there is a definite, set order to the mugs in the top cupboard on the left, and he's a little adverse to disturbing the row of perfectly unused and lined-up guest glasses), and glances at his lengthening list of debts. Day by day, they (it isn't just him) let it grow longer, and the numbers start piling up in his head like reasons to stay (to go).
One day, a Thursday, Dojima puts down his newspaper (weekend weather forecast: slightly cloudy, with a hint of evening showers), and shrugs on his jacket with a customary, "I'm out." Adachi takes a little longer than usual, standing by the backyard door, but eventually, he turns around and waves. When Dojima returns, he mutters a grouchy, "I'm home," into an empty house. There is today's lunch (a ham sandwich - 2.50) and an unlabeled number (_________- 20 from that stash you keep under the telephone) written on the refrigerator door, and there is still pudding on the top shelf, but there isn't anyone there to steal it.
Dojima stands in the kitchen staring at his overturned cup on the bottom of the sink for a moment, listening to the emptiness of the house. He's not particularly surprised - and that surprises him to some degree - but when he thinks about it, it's going to be almost pathetically easy to readjust to living alone. All he has to do is tear down that piece of paper, as if Adachi took special care not to leave a lasting impression, planting no roots, tying no strings. It makes sense (everything makes too much sense in retrospect.) By doing nothing, he's been paving the way for a clean getaway all along.
Ultimately, that's the thing about Adachi - when things start stacking (world-ending schemes, responsibilities, pressure, and settling into a routine that is much too simple and pleasant for all the things he's done, but is just right for the amount of things he didn't), he runs.
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The only thing that doesn't change about the city is the city-ness of it. It is loud, it is crowded, and it is a sea of a million unfamiliar faces, of which he was one. No one recognizes him, and people shoulder past him while talking on their cell phones. The storefronts are all different (an overpriced juice chain where that bakery used to be, a twenty-four hour convenience store where the shoe store used to be, a garbage can where the drop-in mailbox used to be.) Adachi puts his hands in his pocket (one empty, one filled with a deck of fraying playing cards and a children's toothbrush), and joins the moving sea.
This was the only thing he had on his list of Things To Do After I Get Out, a list of lonely one, and now that he's accomplished it, he finds that accomplishment feels plain. Something he noticed in Inaba hits him with full force - even without Adachi Tohru, the world continues to turn, and the only world that ever stopped, held at standstill, was his. Playing catch-up is hard, and it is impossible when you aren't born special. Adachi has stopped trying, stopped trying a long time ago.
He only borrowed (took) enough to cover the one-way fare. He goes without dinner, and walks for hours. Eventually, he ends up in the outskirts of the city, where the commercial buildings start thinning into the beginnings of suburbia, and he stops in front of a small, aging apartment complex (three floors), looking up from the other side of a rusting fence. Another family lives in the fourth door from the left, up one flight of stairs, with a window and drawn blinds. He can't see far enough to read out the letters of the surname.
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Adachi lifts one corner of his mouth. "Not really. I know exactly where I am."
The young man cants his head, staring blankly for a long moment, "You do now, huh?" he says, and then pulls something out of the bag slung over his left shoulder. He hands him something folded in a plastic Junes bag, and when Adachi is reluctant to reach out and take it, he explains, "There's a cat that wanders around here sometimes. I usually wait up for it, but I'm kind of in a hurry today. Could you just drop these for her if you see her? And if you don't, just leave it on the corner." When Adachi still doesn't take it, distrusting, dishonest, the young man smiles (an adult smile, the subtle kind that is not unlike Dojima's smiles), and puts the bag on the floor.
Adachi nudges it with his foot after the kid leaves. Weird kid, feeding stray cats in the city. When it doesn't jump up and attack him, he looks inside at the untouched, sealed, bread inside, and scoffs. Doesn't he even know that cats eat fish? Could've at least gotten something tuna. Wouldn't surprise me if the mangy thing's starved by now. Ever efficient, he takes it instead. Without his noticing, another twenty-four hours has passed since he has woken up.
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It was the whole AMAAAAZING thing attached to the writing style.
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WE'VE TALKED ABOUT THIS BEFORE YANNO.
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Seriously keep writing shit on here, dude. YOU MAKE MY DAY(S) WITH YOUR FILLS.
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and of course i was verrrrrry pleased to read another wonderful chapter of your wonderful fic today.
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