[Ah... so that's where Ramuda is steering this. Lobelia recognizes the sharpened edge beneath all that sugar and sweetness. And the way he doesn't retreat when Lobelia threatens to touch? That, too, is an answer in its own right.
He lets his hand hover just a breath from Ramuda's cheek. A question shaped by proximity.]
Very well. I'll ask plainly, since that is what you're waiting for. Do you want me to touch you?
[A beat. Something gentler flickers through his gaze.]
Not by accident. Not by implication. Not by chance. Do you want my hands on you... for a reason?
[ ramuda can't help but laugh, not derisively, but pure and bright. he probably shouldn't but he is both the most obedient and most rebellious simultaneously. ]
I do! [ without an ounce of hesitation. ] Are you gonna make me explain myself? It's cause I like you!
[ ramuda doesn't need to think that hard on it and he thought it was obvious. even with the drawbacks to touch, he still thinks it's worth it. he's let himself get beat up for far less and despite how bratty he was just moments ago, he can't help but want to catch that flicker for himself. ]
[Ah... so that's what Ramuda meant. So bright, so blatant, so simple in the way only Ramuda can be, confessing affection as easily as breathing. And Lobelia? For a moment, he simply stares. Not because he's shocked Ramuda likes him, but because he can't fathom why. If Ramuda knew the whole truth, surely he would run. Surely he should.
But Ramuda doesn't step back. He leans closer. And that, more than the words themselves, knocks something loose in Lobelia's chest.]
Mon cher... you say it so easily. Like me? How fortunate I am that you are so brave, or so reckless. I cannot tell which.
[His smile curves slow, indulgent, teasing in the way his voice always softens when he's genuinely touched.]
But tell me... are you certain you want my hands on you? You'll pay for it, you know. Enough touches and you'll be in pain for the rest of the day. I would hate to have your fondness punished so harshly.
[He leans in, breath warm, stopping just shy of brushing their foreheadsβ close enough that Ramuda can feel the promise of contact, but not the contact itself.]
Unless... you like me that much?
[Another beat. Quieter, softer.]
Because if you truly do β if you mean it β I will try not to hurt you more than necessary. Even if I can't quite understand why someone as bright as you would look twice at someone like me.
I've gotten punished for no reason at all and for really stupid ones.
[ many, many times over and it's such an honest answer that ramuda doesn't realize he's said a bit more than he'd like. ]
This ain't that, it's not even close. I like you the most, I have the most fun with you out of everyone here! [ plainly as only ramuda can say it again, but just like before it is the truth. the why of it is twisted tight like the red stripe on a candy cane, but it's there. if lobelia isn't used to company, ramuda isn't used to being protected or looked out for, not when it matters. ]
Plus darkness and light are totally a combo, you know? Trust me on this one β.
[ ...and like recognizes like even if this is something ramuda is certainly not looking at himself. his brightness has darkness too, certainly it was born from it. ]
[His brows knit at the suggestion of being punished for no reason, expression further complicated by the way Ramuda says this as if speaking about the weather. Like a mirror held up to his soul, the reflection is painful.
Lobelia's hands find Ramuda's waist. They guide him close, and through layers of fabric, the faintest prickles of pain find him. Lobelia can ignore it easily enough.]
Ouiβ contrast and balance is important. But more than that... why is it that you've foregone your own happiness? Have you given up on it, or has it yet to find you in the proper form?
[ through both their layers it's not all that bad, certainly a level of pain he's felt before and fought through. he knows how to tense his diaphragm to brace himself and neither his voice nor the beats of his heart betray any discomfort. he settles in as easily as he did when he was in lobelia's arms for the jail tour and if anything the only tell he gives is that yes this was what he wanted, the soft sigh from his lips speaking for him.
...there is a slight pause before he answers, because this is certainly a question he should blow off. it's a question he wants to blow off but he's also enjoying this closeness; the pain matters way less than going who knows how many days without physical touch. it's not an addiction nor is it an indulgence but it does keep him centered and remind him of his biggest defect that is also his only source of comfort. ]
Lobelia, have you heard of YOLO before? It means You Only Live Once. If you can die any day, at any time, then you should spend every moment in pursuit of happiness. And [ the part that follows isn't in the definition of yolo but it is for Ramuda Amemura ] if you live another day, you can get more happiness. So you can put up with anything if it means you get to see tomorrow.
Edited 2025-11-20 04:56 (UTC)
throws this tag at you like a brick I'M SORRY HOW DID IT GET SO LONG
[So you can put up with anything if it means you get to see tomorrow.
How beautiful. How tragic. Worst of all, Lobelia understands innatelyβ even if "YOLO" was, blessedly, a term he'd not encountered until now. The irony does not elude him. That he should meet someone who reflects the most painful parts of himself, forces him to look at them... it feels predestined. This ache in his chest was meant for him.
Spend every moment in the pursuit of happiness. Yes, Lobelia did exactly that from the time he was a young boy combing the shoreline for conch shells, dutifully honoring his parents' wishes. Yet happiness remained fleeting. He'd crush it in his hands, watch it bleed, and feel enlivened. Then the silence kicked in. Then came the void.
How wonderful, and how painful, it is to be understood.
Lobelia sighs, tugging Ramuda closer before his mind can catch up to his hands. He kisses him knowing full well it will hurtβ knowing full well neither of them would have it any other way.
The pain stings along his lips, buzzes beneath his skin, electric and cruel. He lingers in that kiss, steeps in it as long as Ramuda does, drawing back only when he can remain silent no longer.]
You speak as though tomorrow is a luxury granted to others, not to you. As though happiness is something you can only chase in stolen moments, never claim for yourself.
[He leans back enough to meet Ramuda's eyesβ warm, intent, and far too observant.]
Oui, you live once. Just once. All the more reason not to spend that precious life enduring pain simply because it is familiar, or because you think you don't deserve more than flickers of joy.
[His voice drops, quiet, almost hesitant. Rare for him.]
[ yes, the kiss is certainly more than a welcome reprieve (even with the pain it comes with, something he's not fully prepared for but that he acclimates to with some effort). he presses deeper into it, stinging his lips and pricking his tongue—ramuda hates needles but he might hate certain other topics just as much.
ahhh, he can't hold it for as long as he'd like because he's certainly no masochist either. when he pulls back he's more than a little breathless and dazed; skin buzzing in a way that isn't pleasant, but still serves just as well to blunt his thoughts, just a little. ]
Hah... [ there's something different in his breath out, a deeper resonance than his usual. he's so weak and defective, if he wasn't off kilter from the kiss or the miasma that's plagued them since dawn, he could say what he wants to say. what he wants to shout from the bottom of his lungs, a gunshot that would echo all the way to the cold stone of the jail.
"No you don't!" ]
That's not— [ where is his pitch right now? somewhere between the sweet saccharine of his usual and the deep depth of his natural voice. ]
I didn't decide anything! [ ...that wasn't what he wanted to shout. but of course, it makes perfect sense that a defective product like him would fail at even the most basic defense of itself. ]
[Ah. His tone has shifted. As carefully as Ramuda manicures the image he shows to the world, it's obvious to someone like Lobelia when cracks in one's armor emerge. He's always looking for them, always poised so strike, but this is... this is different. He isn't looking to tear Ramuda apart. He isn't trying to hurt him. This isβ]
Then it was decided for you. By whom?
[And with what right? Lobelia keeps Ramuda close, locked in his arms. He hadn't the inclination to let him go before, but he really doesn't now.]
[ hold onto him tight because if you don't, he'll certainly run away as fast as his legs can carry him. not that ramuda is struggling, caught somewhere between pretending everything is just fine and that it's a mess. a little pink rabbit, frozen in fear.
ramuda laughs, half succeeding in moderating his tone to his usual one. the pain in his arms reminds him of something, someone else actually. ]
Chuohku, Ichijiku. [ that bitch— ]
Why's it matter? [ even if they're not here it's the same in the end anyway. ]
[Oh, expect Lobelia to understand. He has always ran, refusing to be held. It's easier that way, isn't it? That's precisely why he won't let Ramuda run. Some things are meant to be difficult. Some things are meant to hurt.]
Why, you ask? Because no one has the right to stand between you and your happiness. If a barrier rises before you, you break it. If the tide presses against you, you press harder. And if this Chuohku Ichijiku believes she can stand in your way...
[His voice dips, a low whisper brushing Ramuda's ear.]
[ ...ramuda laughs, not at all like his usual laughter. it's dark and not at all sweet and deeply amused. does lobelia really think he needs egging on here? ah, but that means he really doesn't know ramuda well at all and that lightens some of the pressure and anxiety that was building.
don't look at me. don't pretend you'd actually care when it came down to it.
when his speaks his voice is completely different; lobelia has caught glimpses of it before but here it is, stark and bitter, deep in a resonance that doesn't look like it should come out of this tiny body but it does. this is the true ramura amemura or rather...this is the first reflection of him, at least.]
Do you really think I wouldn't have done that already if I could? It's not a matter of power but what she holds over me. If killing her would have set me free I would have killed her over a fucking hundred times already.
[For once, Lobelia has no quip readyβ no gentle tease, no knife-edged smile. That voice. That voice. It rolls over him like a tide, dark and resonant and unmistakably true. His breath catches... and then he laughs, soft, unguarded, almost startled.]
Ah... mon petit. There you are.
[He reaches out, fingers brushing Ramuda's jaw, come whatever pain may, as if to make sure this version of him is real.]
Do you think I wanted to prod you for cruelty's sake? Non. I wanted to hear you. The real you. Not the little smiles you give the world, not the glitter you hide behind. This.
I don't want you to hear me. [ but here he is anyway.
ramuda stares back, feeling a mess of things and hating that fact most of all. ]
But I told you already, the first time we spoke in private. [ he'd hate himself more for it but what else could he do at that point? ]
I'll die without the lollipops. I was made that way. [ a tool, a doll, something to be used and discarded when he wasn't useful anymore. ] If I kill her they just let me die a long death instead of a short one.
[By all means, stare. Glare daggers at him. Lobelia doesn't mind, finding the honesty as refreshing as a blade dragged clean across his bare skin.]
Besides... you've fought all your battles alone, haven't you? Perhaps because that's safest, or because you believe your battle isn't one worth dragging others into... and I understand. But here is the unvarnished truth, Ramuda: you chose loneliness. It did not choose you.
[He leans in.]
Have you considered, even once, relying on others? What stops you?
[Lobelia's smile softens, still sharp at the edges, but a touch more thoughtful. He doesn't flinch from Ramuda's glare or the bite behind his words. If anything, the honesty draws him closer.]
Ah... so you do need them. That's all I wanted to hear.
[He straightens, letting the weight of Ramuda's history settle between them. Japan, power, conquest, loss. It's more than Lobelia expected, and he treats it as such.]
And you weren't alone until circumstance forced your hand. I believe you. I do. But tell me, when that moment came, when you had to stand alone at last, did anyone stop you?
Did anyone reach for you? Fight to keep you beside them? Or did you simply decide it hurt less to pretend solitude was your choice?
[He leans in again, voice dropping into something gentle but unyielding.]
Needing others doesn't make you weak, but believing you're only allowed to need them when it's convenient for everyone else... that is the loneliest leash of all.
[ ramuda wants to get away, he really does. but this topic, this person—he's never been anything even remotely related to the word control when he comes to mind.
stop looking at him. there's no point, because you'll do the same as everyone does, as he did. ]
They didn't. [ he says that with an air of indifference because he is used to it, it is normal, and he has adapted to it as well as a fish can adapt to living in a nearly parched pond. ]
Especially him. [ ...but this is said with pure and utter hatred.
he wants to kill ichijiku first. but he'd kill jakurai second. ]
[Whatever Ramuda desperately wishes to hide from his eyes is nothing Lobelia would balk at. There's nothing ugly, nothing miserable, nothing but a man who is beautifully raw just as he is. So Lobelia looks at him. He won't look anywhere else.]
Him?
[Go on, then. Elucidate him. Lobelia isn't pushy, but he's insistent in the way he keeps Ramuda in his orbit, refusing to allow him to recede into himself. That won't solve matters. That only makes festering wounds worse.]
Jakurai Jinguji. He's a doctor he's— [ why did he even bother to say his name? he knows he can't contain himself once jakurai is on his mind let alone on his lips.
it's so stupid, it's so—
—ramuda's lucky that his anger doesn't let him see how similar these two situations are, similar, but yet entirely different. jakurai was like this too, jakurai wanted to see him and jakurai often looked at ramuda with cool, kind, eyes and told him that he didn't need to hide himself.
what a joke. ]
—nosy, a busybody, always has to help everyone and always thinks that he knows better than them too. He kept telling me he wanted to see the "real" me. So he could fix me? So he could judge me? So he could understand me?
There is no "real" me. All of this is me.
[ lobelia knows now that this is true too, that there is no fake ramuda but there are different layers, different reflections, but that doesn't make them any less real or genuine. ]
[Lobelia listens through the whole unraveling without flinching. Not at Ramuda's anger, nor the self-loathing licking at the edges of every word. He has seen men weaponize pain, but Ramuda? Ramuda turns it inward until it bleeds.]
Ah, mon cher... so that is the ghost clinging to your ribs.
[He leans in, not crowding but close enough that Ramuda can feel the steadiness of his presence rather than the hollow panic of memory.]
You think he wanted to "fix" you? To peel you apart until you were neat and comprehensible? Non. That is the mistake you're still suffering under. He wanted to see you, the whole of you, and you hated him for it because being known hurts more than any blade.
[His hand lifts, thumb grazing Ramuda's cheekbone, not quite a touch, but an invitation.]
There is no "real" you? Then good. It means every layer is true. Every reflection. Every contradiction. I see all of them when I look at you, and none of it frightens me. None of it disgusts me. And I have not once tried to make you into something else.
[A faint smile, crooked and soft in a way he shows no one else.]
If he made you feel small, I won't. If he made you feel dissected, I won't. I am not here to fix you. Only to know you as you are, as you change, as you burn. Him? He is the past. Toi et moi... we're right here.
[ ramuda feels a mix of things. he hears words he rejects and words that confuse him and he sees something that catches his eye. it's a distraction at least, from an all consuming bitter anger. ]
I hate him for it because once he pried his way in, he didn't like what he saw. [ and ramuda was a fool for not shoving him back properly after his xth attempt.
the thought doesn't linger as his eyes track the movement, looking up properly at the man who says such dangerous words. words he wants but that he doesn't want to believe, who says he wants to see him and who says he wants to watch him burn. should that concern ramuda? he finds it alluring instead, in the same way the smile on his lips calls to him.
he considers what to say and decides he can concede this at least. ]
Nous sommes ici. Toi et moi. [ ...his accents pretty good actually.
up on his tippy toes he goes, grabbing the soft flowing fabric of his robes to meet his lips and his tongue. it hurts, but it's satisfying—here they are in this moment, undeniably so. ]
[Ramuda's French, soft and precise, hits Lobelia square in the heart. It cuts through his composure like a knife through butter. The kiss that meets him is painful, sharp, and that pain is exactly the catalyst: his breath breaks against Ramuda's mouth as if something old and feral has been kicked awake inside his ribs.]
...Oui.
[The word is a sigh at first, gentleβ then Ramuda's tongue drags against his, and the tenderness fractures. Lobelia's hand comes up to cup the back of Ramuda's head, not forceful, but claiming. He leans in, deepens it, lets the kiss grow from soft warmth into something ravenous. Each sting of pain only makes him pull Ramuda closer, as if he can devour the ache before it turns inward again.]
You see? Nous sommes ici.
[He breathes the words against Ramuda's lips, voice low, unsteady in its hunger. It's an oath disguised as encouragement. The kiss returns sharper, hungrier, his teeth catching Ramuda's lower lip in a promise that is equal parts devotion and ruin.]
I'm right here. Je reste.
[His free hand slides to Ramuda's waist, fingers tightening just enough to ground him, to answer every unspoken fear with touch instead of language. The kiss grows harsher again, not dominance, not comfort, but something in between. Something that says he'll meet every jagged edge Ramuda brings and never once turn away.]
[ oh. he's pulled in but that's more than fine, it's welcome, it's what he wanted on so many levels—spare him from the thoughts of his past, spare him from worries about how dangerous this is for his heart.
the affection cuts sharp enough to pull noises from him, but it certainly doesn't damper his enthusiasm. he really doesn't look it, but his tenacity in taking damage and pain is among the best in all of the drb.
is that blood on his tongue? he laughs, a breathless giggle. ]
...Moi aussi. [ he'll stay here too, they'll stay here together—why would he leave? ramuda can't think of a reason why he would. not now. ]
Okaay, but come closer~. [ ramuda backs up, what does he hit first? lobelia'a desk? he leans back into it stopping short of falling back completely, fingers digging tighter into lobelia's back as he does.
he answers the sharper kisses note for note, up until he brings his teeth down to rake across his tongue. it's sweet and sharp, pointed like the edge of a candycane and ramuda drinks in the taste greedily. ]
[It's a simple affair to scoop Ramuda up and sit him on the desk proper. He weighs so little, easy to whisk up into his arms, but Ramuda isn't a weakling. If he wanted to push back, Lobelia fully expects he'd put him in his place in no time flat. That contrast is what draws Lobelia to him like a moth to flame.]
[Lobelia isn't one to quit while he's ahead, after all. Scoping the curve of Ramuda's throat with his palm, Lobelia brings his lips to it, threatens the soft skin with the needling bite of his teeth. There's blood on Ramuda's skin when Lobelia draws his tongue along it, but whether it's his own or Ramuda's, he can't tell. All he knows is that it encourages him to bite down and suck out a bruise that will linger on his skin long after they depart.]
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no subject
He lets his hand hover just a breath from Ramuda's cheek. A question shaped by proximity.]
Very well. I'll ask plainly, since that is what you're waiting for. Do you want me to touch you?
[A beat. Something gentler flickers through his gaze.]
Not by accident. Not by implication. Not by chance. Do you want my hands on you... for a reason?
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I do! [ without an ounce of hesitation. ] Are you gonna make me explain myself? It's cause I like you!
[ ramuda doesn't need to think that hard on it and he thought it was obvious. even with the drawbacks to touch, he still thinks it's worth it. he's let himself get beat up for far less and despite how bratty he was just moments ago, he can't help but want to catch that flicker for himself. ]
no subject
But Ramuda doesn't step back. He leans closer. And that, more than the words themselves, knocks something loose in Lobelia's chest.]
Mon cher... you say it so easily. Like me? How fortunate I am that you are so brave, or so reckless. I cannot tell which.
[His smile curves slow, indulgent, teasing in the way his voice always softens when he's genuinely touched.]
But tell me... are you certain you want my hands on you? You'll pay for it, you know. Enough touches and you'll be in pain for the rest of the day. I would hate to have your fondness punished so harshly.
[He leans in, breath warm, stopping just shy of brushing their foreheadsβ close enough that Ramuda can feel the promise of contact, but not the contact itself.]
Unless... you like me that much?
[Another beat. Quieter, softer.]
Because if you truly do β if you mean it β I will try not to hurt you more than necessary. Even if I can't quite understand why someone as bright as you would look twice at someone like me.
no subject
[ many, many times over and it's such an honest answer that ramuda doesn't realize he's said a bit more than he'd like. ]
This ain't that, it's not even close. I like you the most, I have the most fun with you out of everyone here! [ plainly as only ramuda can say it again, but just like before it is the truth. the why of it is twisted tight like the red stripe on a candy cane, but it's there. if lobelia isn't used to company, ramuda isn't used to being protected or looked out for, not when it matters. ]
Plus darkness and light are totally a combo, you know? Trust me on this one β.
[ ...and like recognizes like even if this is something ramuda is certainly not looking at himself. his brightness has darkness too, certainly it was born from it. ]
no subject
Lobelia's hands find Ramuda's waist. They guide him close, and through layers of fabric, the faintest prickles of pain find him. Lobelia can ignore it easily enough.]
Ouiβ contrast and balance is important. But more than that... why is it that you've foregone your own happiness? Have you given up on it, or has it yet to find you in the proper form?
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...there is a slight pause before he answers, because this is certainly a question he should blow off. it's a question he wants to blow off but he's also enjoying this closeness; the pain matters way less than going who knows how many days without physical touch. it's not an addiction nor is it an indulgence but it does keep him centered and remind him of his biggest defect that is also his only source of comfort. ]
Lobelia, have you heard of YOLO before? It means You Only Live Once. If you can die any day, at any time, then you should spend every moment in pursuit of happiness. And [ the part that follows isn't in the definition of yolo but it is for Ramuda Amemura ] if you live another day, you can get more happiness. So you can put up with anything if it means you get to see tomorrow.
throws this tag at you like a brick I'M SORRY HOW DID IT GET SO LONG
How beautiful. How tragic. Worst of all, Lobelia understands innatelyβ even if "YOLO" was, blessedly, a term he'd not encountered until now. The irony does not elude him. That he should meet someone who reflects the most painful parts of himself, forces him to look at them... it feels predestined. This ache in his chest was meant for him.
Spend every moment in the pursuit of happiness. Yes, Lobelia did exactly that from the time he was a young boy combing the shoreline for conch shells, dutifully honoring his parents' wishes. Yet happiness remained fleeting. He'd crush it in his hands, watch it bleed, and feel enlivened. Then the silence kicked in. Then came the void.
How wonderful, and how painful, it is to be understood.
Lobelia sighs, tugging Ramuda closer before his mind can catch up to his hands. He kisses him knowing full well it will hurtβ knowing full well neither of them would have it any other way.
The pain stings along his lips, buzzes beneath his skin, electric and cruel. He lingers in that kiss, steeps in it as long as Ramuda does, drawing back only when he can remain silent no longer.]
You speak as though tomorrow is a luxury granted to others, not to you. As though happiness is something you can only chase in stolen moments, never claim for yourself.
[He leans back enough to meet Ramuda's eyesβ warm, intent, and far too observant.]
Oui, you live once. Just once. All the more reason not to spend that precious life enduring pain simply because it is familiar, or because you think you don't deserve more than flickers of joy.
[His voice drops, quiet, almost hesitant. Rare for him.]
Tell me, mon petit Γ©clair... When did you decide that "anything" was good enough for you? That your own happiness was worth so little you would suffer just to taste it?
[It isn't a reprimand. It's concern, genuine and earnest, startlingly gentle beneath the sharpness.]
I would like to understand you. Truly.
no subject
ahhh, he can't hold it for as long as he'd like because he's certainly no masochist either. when he pulls back he's more than a little breathless and dazed; skin buzzing in a way that isn't pleasant, but still serves just as well to blunt his thoughts, just a little. ]
Hah... [ there's something different in his breath out, a deeper resonance than his usual. he's so weak and defective, if he wasn't off kilter from the kiss or the miasma that's plagued them since dawn, he could say what he wants to say. what he wants to shout from the bottom of his lungs, a gunshot that would echo all the way to the cold stone of the jail.
"No you don't!" ]
That's not— [ where is his pitch right now? somewhere between the sweet saccharine of his usual and the deep depth of his natural voice. ]
I didn't decide anything! [ ...that wasn't what he wanted to shout. but of course, it makes perfect sense that a defective product like him would fail at even the most basic defense of itself. ]
no subject
Then it was decided for you. By whom?
[And with what right? Lobelia keeps Ramuda close, locked in his arms. He hadn't the inclination to let him go before, but he really doesn't now.]
Who denies you your right to be happy...?
no subject
ramuda laughs, half succeeding in moderating his tone to his usual one. the pain in his arms reminds him of something, someone else actually. ]
Chuohku, Ichijiku. [ that bitch— ]
Why's it matter? [ even if they're not here it's the same in the end anyway. ]
no subject
Why, you ask? Because no one has the right to stand between you and your happiness. If a barrier rises before you, you break it. If the tide presses against you, you press harder. And if this Chuohku Ichijiku believes she can stand in your way...
[His voice dips, a low whisper brushing Ramuda's ear.]
Γliminez-la.
no subject
don't look at me. don't pretend you'd actually care when it came down to it.
when his speaks his voice is completely different; lobelia has caught glimpses of it before but here it is, stark and bitter, deep in a resonance that doesn't look like it should come out of this tiny body but it does. this is the true ramura amemura or rather...this is the first reflection of him, at least.]
Do you really think I wouldn't have done that already if I could? It's not a matter of power but what she holds over me. If killing her would have set me free I would have killed her over a fucking hundred times already.
no subject
Ah... mon petit. There you are.
[He reaches out, fingers brushing Ramuda's jaw, come whatever pain may, as if to make sure this version of him is real.]
Do you think I wanted to prod you for cruelty's sake? Non. I wanted to hear you. The real you. Not the little smiles you give the world, not the glitter you hide behind. This.
[His voice lowers, warm, reverent, shamelessly delighted.]
That voice... mon dieu. You could bring an army to its knees with it.
You say you would have killed her a hundred times already. I believe you. And I'm honored you'd bare that truth to me. Tu es belle.
no subject
ramuda stares back, feeling a mess of things and hating that fact most of all. ]
But I told you already, the first time we spoke in private. [ he'd hate himself more for it but what else could he do at that point? ]
I'll die without the lollipops. I was made that way. [ a tool, a doll, something to be used and discarded when he wasn't useful anymore. ] If I kill her they just let me die a long death instead of a short one.
no subject
[By all means, stare. Glare daggers at him. Lobelia doesn't mind, finding the honesty as refreshing as a blade dragged clean across his bare skin.]
Besides... you've fought all your battles alone, haven't you? Perhaps because that's safest, or because you believe your battle isn't one worth dragging others into... and I understand. But here is the unvarnished truth, Ramuda: you chose loneliness. It did not choose you.
[He leans in.]
Have you considered, even once, relying on others? What stops you?
no subject
[ so yeah, he's a dog without a leash but he still has his collar.
a dog that's bristling, both at the truth and falsehood in lobelia's words. ]
Alone? I, we, conquered all of Japan as the most powerful group to have existed.
I wasn't alone until I had to be.
[ that's how it always is and that's how it always will be. it's almost cute that lobelia thinks ramuda had some choice in it. ]
no subject
Ah... so you do need them. That's all I wanted to hear.
[He straightens, letting the weight of Ramuda's history settle between them. Japan, power, conquest, loss. It's more than Lobelia expected, and he treats it as such.]
And you weren't alone until circumstance forced your hand. I believe you. I do. But tell me, when that moment came, when you had to stand alone at last, did anyone stop you?
Did anyone reach for you? Fight to keep you beside them? Or did you simply decide it hurt less to pretend solitude was your choice?
[He leans in again, voice dropping into something gentle but unyielding.]
Needing others doesn't make you weak, but believing you're only allowed to need them when it's convenient for everyone else... that is the loneliest leash of all.
no subject
stop looking at him. there's no point, because you'll do the same as everyone does, as he did. ]
They didn't. [ he says that with an air of indifference because he is used to it, it is normal, and he has adapted to it as well as a fish can adapt to living in a nearly parched pond. ]
Especially him. [ ...but this is said with pure and utter hatred.
he wants to kill ichijiku first. but he'd kill jakurai second. ]
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Him?
[Go on, then. Elucidate him. Lobelia isn't pushy, but he's insistent in the way he keeps Ramuda in his orbit, refusing to allow him to recede into himself. That won't solve matters. That only makes festering wounds worse.]
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it's so stupid, it's so—
—ramuda's lucky that his anger doesn't let him see how similar these two situations are, similar, but yet entirely different. jakurai was like this too, jakurai wanted to see him and jakurai often looked at ramuda with cool, kind, eyes and told him that he didn't need to hide himself.
what a joke. ]
—nosy, a busybody, always has to help everyone and always thinks that he knows better than them too. He kept telling me he wanted to see the "real" me. So he could fix me? So he could judge me? So he could understand me?
There is no "real" me. All of this is me.
[ lobelia knows now that this is true too, that there is no fake ramuda but there are different layers, different reflections, but that doesn't make them any less real or genuine. ]
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Ah, mon cher... so that is the ghost clinging to your ribs.
[He leans in, not crowding but close enough that Ramuda can feel the steadiness of his presence rather than the hollow panic of memory.]
You think he wanted to "fix" you? To peel you apart until you were neat and comprehensible? Non. That is the mistake you're still suffering under. He wanted to see you, the whole of you, and you hated him for it because being known hurts more than any blade.
[His hand lifts, thumb grazing Ramuda's cheekbone, not quite a touch, but an invitation.]
There is no "real" you? Then good. It means every layer is true. Every reflection. Every contradiction. I see all of them when I look at you, and none of it frightens me. None of it disgusts me. And I have not once tried to make you into something else.
[A faint smile, crooked and soft in a way he shows no one else.]
If he made you feel small, I won't. If he made you feel dissected, I won't. I am not here to fix you. Only to know you as you are, as you change, as you burn. Him? He is the past. Toi et moi... we're right here.
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I hate him for it because once he pried his way in, he didn't like what he saw. [ and ramuda was a fool for not shoving him back properly after his xth attempt.
the thought doesn't linger as his eyes track the movement, looking up properly at the man who says such dangerous words. words he wants but that he doesn't want to believe, who says he wants to see him and who says he wants to watch him burn. should that concern ramuda? he finds it alluring instead, in the same way the smile on his lips calls to him.
he considers what to say and decides he can concede this at least. ]
Nous sommes ici. Toi et moi. [ ...his accents pretty good actually.
up on his tippy toes he goes, grabbing the soft flowing fabric of his robes to meet his lips and his tongue. it hurts, but it's satisfying—here they are in this moment, undeniably so. ]
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...Oui.
[The word is a sigh at first, gentleβ then Ramuda's tongue drags against his, and the tenderness fractures. Lobelia's hand comes up to cup the back of Ramuda's head, not forceful, but claiming. He leans in, deepens it, lets the kiss grow from soft warmth into something ravenous. Each sting of pain only makes him pull Ramuda closer, as if he can devour the ache before it turns inward again.]
You see? Nous sommes ici.
[He breathes the words against Ramuda's lips, voice low, unsteady in its hunger. It's an oath disguised as encouragement. The kiss returns sharper, hungrier, his teeth catching Ramuda's lower lip in a promise that is equal parts devotion and ruin.]
I'm right here. Je reste.
[His free hand slides to Ramuda's waist, fingers tightening just enough to ground him, to answer every unspoken fear with touch instead of language. The kiss grows harsher again, not dominance, not comfort, but something in between. Something that says he'll meet every jagged edge Ramuda brings and never once turn away.]
Give me more.
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the affection cuts sharp enough to pull noises from him, but it certainly doesn't damper his enthusiasm. he really doesn't look it, but his tenacity in taking damage and pain is among the best in all of the drb.
is that blood on his tongue? he laughs, a breathless giggle. ]
...Moi aussi. [ he'll stay here too, they'll stay here together—why would he leave? ramuda can't think of a reason why he would. not now. ]
Okaay, but come closer~. [ ramuda backs up, what does he hit first? lobelia'a desk? he leans back into it stopping short of falling back completely, fingers digging tighter into lobelia's back as he does.
he answers the sharper kisses note for note, up until he brings his teeth down to rake across his tongue. it's sweet and sharp, pointed like the edge of a candycane and ramuda drinks in the taste greedily. ]
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Do you intend to keep tempting me? I would be careful if I were you, mon Γ©clair.
[Lobelia isn't one to quit while he's ahead, after all. Scoping the curve of Ramuda's throat with his palm, Lobelia brings his lips to it, threatens the soft skin with the needling bite of his teeth. There's blood on Ramuda's skin when Lobelia draws his tongue along it, but whether it's his own or Ramuda's, he can't tell. All he knows is that it encourages him to bite down and suck out a bruise that will linger on his skin long after they depart.]
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