hello darkness, hello goodbye;

[soukahisoka]

Day: 21
Characters: Hisoka Kurosaki soukahisoka, Grell Sutcliff chainsaw_juliet, Matt loadsavedgame, Joshua naturalpuppy, Rin cutest_avenger, Reeve felis_fidelus
Summary: Hisoka is using his empathy to recover, if not his own memories, at least others' memories of him. At least that's something.
DAY/NIGHT & Time: DAY/All day
Status: Open to those listed above, who replied to this post with an affirmative, and feel like logging

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[felis_fidelus]

The sob did it. Reeve covered his eyes before the tears could fall, trying to fake an air of neutrality. This was... it was like violating Hisoka, unintentionally, with his own uncontrollable memory. Making him relive every touch, every murmur, the false comfort and the endless variations on the same pain and shame-- it was degrading enough to have someone know, but to actually know each detail? And to have to relive it, Gaia, it was like his uncle had come out of the past and violated Hisoka too.

"Y'r... not fine. Don' lie." Reeve glanced under his hand at Hisoka, at the tears on his face, and cursed under his breath. Damp streaks were visible on his cheeks; he clenched his jaw and struggled to get his emotions under control. The world was growing foggy again, the shadows coming to the forefront. "Jus' b'cause 's... wha' y' do... doesn' make it ri'."

He could feel his vision blurring. No, he needed to be alone, by himself-- Reeve knew he was going to break down. Hisoka had seen his memories; he didn't need to see this too. "... 's tha'... all y' need?" he asked, voice choked and rough.

[soukahisoka]

A gun to his temple or a knife at his throat would have been less perilous to the empath than being in a room with Reeve at the point of breakdown. Hisoka could feel Reeve slipping, could feel the misty phantoms of the past and how they clawed and claimed him. Reeve wasn't Tsuzuki, Hisoka owed him nothing... except that Reeve had given Hisoka the memories he had asked for, while in terrible pain himself.

"I'm fine," Hisoka repeated, trying to sound firm, because even while in the midst of all that pain, Reeve managed to spare worry and concern for Hisoka, for someone like him, so unworthy of it. "That's all I need."

He hesitated a moment, but the gray mists that plucked and pawed at the heap of a man beneath the sheets were only too eager to turn on Hisoka as well. If he stayed, he knew better than anyone what would happen -- unconsciousness if he was lucky, and a screaming descent into the echoes of Reeve's desperation and shame if he wasn't. "But I can't stay," said Hisoka, torn between the cowardice of what it meant to run and leave this man to be eaten by his demons, and the practical voice inside him that told him he'd better leave now or those demons would have him next, once Reeve had fallen.

Already Hisoka's knees felt weak, his vision hazy as his empathy resounded with Reeve's trauma. Reeve wanted to be alone, and Hisoka hardly knew him, certainly not well enough to judge whether he should or shouldn't be left that way, so he made the coward's choice: he turned and staggered towards the door, slamming it shut behind him as he caught his breath with difficulty. Having the door between them did nothing; his empathy was too strong, Reeve's pain too powerful. Hisoka stumbled down the hall with one hand on the wall for support, blindly feeling for his own cell door.

[felis_fidelus]

"... don' wan' y' t' stay." If touch had driven Hisoka to his knees, when the memories had not even reached their worst, then chances were the boy could pick up on them now. Or if not and he needed to touch to gain rapport, he still needed to get out of there, to sort it all out and push it out of his system. It was Reeve's pain, his shame and burden. He didn't want anyone else to have to shoulder it. "G' on. Please."

Reeve didn't even have to mention how ill and drawn the boy looked now. It was a stark contrast to how Hisoka had looked when he'd first entered the room. His memories had done this. His memories, his pain. It wasn't fair.

Once the boy-- even his name was slipping now, under the shroud of red that clouded his vision-- had staggered out, once Reeve could no longer hear faint footsteps in the hallway... then it was all right. Curling over on his side, he began to weep bitter tears. He was too tired, too weak to keep the shadows at bay any longer. Too tired to deny the hissing voice in his ear (stay still, be good, don't tell), the mantra he'd heard for years. Too weak to deny the phantom fingers so cold on his skin. Cait's reserves were exhausted. There was no more safety net to cling to.

Covering his face in his hand, Reeve sobbed (quietly, quietly, can't let him hear) into the thin institutional pillow, the taste of tears mingling with that of blood. The darkness had come. His descent into the memories of Hell had started yet again, and there was nothing he could do but try and survive it. Again. And again.