[ The king of hell? ... shit... What the fuck is Muyoung's life? It used to be simple. It used to be all about selling potions he bought off a spider monster, or got from a witch, or stole from a magical bartender.
Why the hell did he have to get himself involved with reapers when he can't stand them on principle? Why the hell couldn't he steel himself enough to not get torn up with guilt when the one he actually spoke to died.... ]
I didn't have any part in his death, there's nothing for me to feel guilty about.
[ He has said this to himself many times before. He's also failed to believe it every time. ]
Hypothetically in a world that I did, why would that matter to you?
[ It's almost an hour before Muyoung replies again, and it's not because he just forgot to check the message on his phone. ]
Why the fuck are you telling me all of this? You think I could have done something? I couldn't have done a goddamn thing. People die. I don't control when that happens!
[ Because he's never tried to.
Not once.
He has no idea if he could stop something or not, because he has literally. Never. Tried.
And here is a man who deals directly in death at the highest level you can get, and he's very heavily suggesting that all these years Muyoung has been wrong. All the lives lost could have been prevented, or at least delayed.
Muyoung had it in his power to prevent this, and he didn't.
[it's fine. not like he doesn't have things to do to keep him occupied like setting up a room at his castle for muyoung]
You have been given a gift and yet, despite embracing it, you run from it. As a result, people die. Yes, as reapers we come for the soul but sometimes, things happen where we lose it and they are returned to their bodies.
[ He's angry, and he doesn't know what to do. So he's lashing out like a bratty teen while he paces the length of his small apartment almost obsessively. His mind is reeling, and he doesn't know what to do with himself as he loses it over this new revelation.
It shouldn't be though, should it? There was never any particular reason he became so wrapped up in the idea that he couldn't change people's fates, except...
Except he didn't want that responsibility. He didn't want it to be on him. He was just a kid when they started happening. How the hell was twelve when he had his first vision.
He couldn't do anything! He couldn't save anyone!
Except he wasn't twelve anymore, and even if he really couldn't save anyone still, he hadn't even tried.
Enma can make those arrangements all he wants, because right now for the first time in over two years Muyoung is coming to a dead stop in the middle of his living room, and staring blankly at the floor in front of his feet before he starts to cry. It starts off light, water pooling at the bottom of his eye until it spills over and rolls down his cheek, but within minutes ugly sobs are wracking through his body as he sinks to the floor, and hugs his knees to himself.
He's not twelve anymore, but he feels like he is again. He's barely an adult despite the fact that he's been taking care of himself for the past couple of years, managing his own business, and swallowing emotions like a hardened man. He's only nineteen, and the only support pillar he had, the faulty belief that he had no way to help the people he had visions of, has been shattered, and he's collapsing under the weight of the responsibility he never wanted. ]
[ Muyoung's head jerks up, and he falls back onto his ass. He didn't expect anyone to show up in his apartment, and he sure as hell didn't want anyone to see him like this. There's about five seconds of panic before he comes up with the immediate and obvious answer to the question "who the fuck is this?"
He wants to be angry. He wants to be absolutely livid with this man, but he can't pull himself out of his own guilt and self-loathing spiral right now to muster the energy for it.
So he wipes his face off on the back of his hand, trying to get the labored breathing under control before he looks back up at Enma with a blank expression.
Even if Enma hadn't popped in to see him sob the red, puffy eyes and trace tears still on his face would give him away, but he has done an admirable job of killing all emotion on his face. ]
Get the hell out of here.
[ His voice, however, sounds broken and shaky. There's no hiding how he's barely holding things together in that. ]
[enma is a little impressed by muyoung’s ability to just look like he feels nothing in an instant. he wonders how long it took the boy to master that skill. however, he finds it stupid. what is the point of doing it when it’s clear that there are traces of his breakdown. when enma already knows he has been crying. when he can’t make his voice as emotionless as his face.
he removes himself from the wall and heads for muyoung, bending down in front of him. enma takes the human’s chin gently in his hand but there a minor tightness in the grip as his way of saying not to try anything unless muyoung wants to regret it]
You’re still young, Muyoung. You can still make up for all the deaths you let happen. For letting Haruto die.
[ It matters because it feels like he's still putting back up his walls, even if they're obviously chipped and damaged after his earlier display. There's a false sense of being protected by not showing emotions on his face, even if his voice still betrays him.
The touch has him tensing up, but he doesn't pull out of Enma's grasp yet. He doesn't trust himself to say much, and it takes everything in him to stare back up at Enma blankly, his expression as dead as the people he could have apparently saved. ]
How?
[ One simple word is all he has it in him to manage right now. He can say it without too my stress or emotion behind it. He can get it out without falling to pieces a second time. ]
[ It's early morning Sunday, and the weather is grey and drab. It might rain later, and it's definitely starting to get cooler. For Marisol anyway, who sleeps under Muyoung's desk on a pile of blankets. Sometimes it's boring to sleep by herself though, and Ju often doesn't stay over, and Max's visits are few are far between. There's a lot less excitement here than Marisol would like.
She's always been a social little thing though, and she crawls out from under her desk drowsily, and patters over to Muyoung's bed. She lifts the blanket off his toes, sliding herself underneath and slinking her way up his body. When her head pops out beside his, she grins widely, wrapping her arms around him and settling in. ]
[ It's early morning Sunday, and some people like to sleep. When Ju is over and lets herself in it's not so bad, because she'll play games with Marisol in order to entertain the fox. When Max has broken into Muyoung's apartment, however, it's a nightmare. The two tend to resort to harassing him for entertainment in tandem.
Though at the very least they wait maybe an hour two longer than what Marisol is doing right now as she crawls into his bed. He grunts at the sensation of his blanket being lifted in the first place, and after a short moment grunts again as she embraces him.
Just to give her a warning too. ]
Still sleep time for at least three more hours.
[ Because he knows what she's like, and he knows that cuddling doesn't always stay quiet and sleepy for long. ]
[ Unfortunately for Muyoung, there is nobody else here to entertain Marisol, and the butcher doesn't open on Sundays. It leaves her a whole day open with nothing else but to force Muyoung to entertain her.
She's not looking for that now though. It's early, and she's still sleepy too. For now.
To his warning she only squeezes him tighter, rubbing her face against his hair. ]
[ Maybe he'll take her to a park later and let her run herself tired. It's how parents deal with their kids, right? And in many ways that's kind of what living with Marisol feels like, having an overgrown child.
He sighs slightly at her nuzzling her way against his scalp, and shoves the side of his face deeper into his pillow.
If she keeps to it, honestly it won't be that bad. When Muyoung had a girlfriend it was in high school, so it's not like he ever really got used to sleeping with another person in his bed. It's a cool enough day right now that it's not unpleasant though, and he'll never, ever admit to it, but it's nice to have a reminder that he's not alone anymore.
Even if not being alone means playing dad to a monster fox in girl form. ]
[ Marisol would be thrilled to be taken to the park so she could run around and cause a ruckus without the downstairs neighbour banging on the ceiling. Harassing the butcher, going to the park, and cuddling with Muyoung are her three favorite things in the world. The order of which she loves the most changes depending on her levels of hunger, but the situations themselves are always constant.
She settles happily into Muyoung's side, squeezing him affectionately and squishing her face against his for maximum amount of Muyoung. Today, the park is second on her list of things she wants to do, and this is the first. ]
[ Park later it is, followed by extremely cheap street food, because Marisol loves it, and it goes easy on Muyoung's very thin wallet. With the amount she eats it's like being a single parent feeding two different kids.
He sighs again, and reaches up blindly to try and pat her head, though likely he's just sort of awkwardly patting his face. The point is he's making an attempt, and that's got to count for something. ]
Love you too.
[ It's a half asleep admission of affection, and she'll have a hell of a time getting it out of him again later when he's more awake. At least Muyoung isn't tsun enough to deny he said it when it's brought up though. ]
[ Luckily for Muyoung, Marisol is not Max and will not gleefully rub his confession in his face later. In fact, words of affirmed affection have never been necessary for her at all, because she's known all along that Muyoung loves her. She's been able to feel it from the very beginning, and it doesn't matter whether it was because she has a genuine sense or whether she was just projecting her own feelings.
It wouldn't have changed her own feelings anyway, and she coos quietly, rubbing her face against his like an affection-hungry cat. ]
[ From the very beginning it might have been a projection of her own feeling, but someone as cheerful and excitable as Marisol will eventually wear down even the most stubborn of mountains. Though Muyoung had first taken the gumiho in with a nervous trepidation of wanting to keep her on her non-human diet, he'd grown attached to her pretty quickly.
Now there's no doubt the feelings and the confession are real, even if he means it in the most platonic or even familial of ways.
That said, even half asleep he's never been in the habit of playing cutesy one-ups of affection. The insistence of just how much she loves him has Muyoung letting out a tired grunt as he reaches up a lazy hand to give her a pat that's half just lightly smacking his face against the side of her face instead. ]
[ Marisol really doesn't mind; she isn't playing a game of who loves who the most or who can one up the other until they give up, but needing more than anything to ensure that Muyoung knows just how much she loves and adores him.
Which is a lot. Even more than her five reallys- even as much as ten, twenty reallys. She adores him, loves him unconditionally, and isn't going to let a little face slapping stop her.
She squeezes him tightly, shuffling her body in even closer to make sure there's absolutely no space left between them. ]
Love youu.
[ Tiredly, low energy. She's starting to settle in and nod off, but not enough to let Muyoung go back to sleep without knowing that she loves him. ]
[ Not once in his time with Marisol has he doubted her words when she tells him how much she adores him.
Well, alright, at the beginning he was a little doubtful, but Marisol is just so genuine about everything she does that it quickly became easy to accept that she'd formed an attachment to him that fast. She's a woman who loves simply and openly, and it's something that Muyoung both admires and envies about her.
He certainly can't seem to manage that himself, even if he does have a lot of affection for her as well. He never seems to manage to let her know that though until she initiates things like this.
And even when she does he has a tendency to ruin it with things like-- ]
[ Muyoung isn't as verbal with his affection as Marisol is, but she's never felt uneasy about it. Without him having to say it, she knows he loves her- she can feel it in her chest, all over her body, from even his smallest action.
She doesn't care how much he ruins whatever moment they're having, because she just loves him. ]
[ There's a comfort in having a friendship where the other person is certain about your returned affection, even if you're not the type to show it well. That Marisol never asks Muyoung to prove himself is a small blessing, because Muyoung would undoubtedly fuck up if she did.
This is easier, even if it's disrupting his sleep at the moment. ]
[ Whether he realises it or not, Muyoung proves his affection to Marisol every single day. That he's taken her in, that he lets her stay, that he brings her special snacks just to make her happy. Muyoung loves her, and he doesn't need to use so many words.
She's starting to lose steam, her tight squeeze of Muyoung's body just a little bit looser as she weighs heavily down on him. ]
[ This is why the two of them make such a good set, even if one of the sets does wake the other one up early in the morning. At least that member of the set did get sleepy enough again to start drifting back off, instead of forcing Muyoung to get up and take her to the park.
Sometimes living with Marisol is a bit like having a dog, other times it's like having a kid, but regardless of the strange responsibility that comes with living with her, Muyoung is glad to have her here.
He sometimes wishes he was the kind of person who could express that better without wanting to die, but for now he'll wrap an arm comfortable around her, and give a quiet grunt of agreement in return. ]
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According to who?
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[ The king of hell? ... shit... What the fuck is Muyoung's life? It used to be simple. It used to be all about selling potions he bought off a spider monster, or got from a witch, or stole from a magical bartender.
Why the hell did he have to get himself involved with reapers when he can't stand them on principle? Why the hell couldn't he steel himself enough to not get torn up with guilt when the one he actually spoke to died.... ]
I didn't have any part in his death, there's nothing for me to feel guilty about.
[ He has said this to himself many times before. He's also failed to believe it every time. ]
Hypothetically in a world that I did, why would that matter to you?
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Tell me, did you foresee Haruto's?
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It's not a crime, and it's not something I can help.
I don't choose which deaths I see.
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Now, someone he actually loved has to deal with his untimely death. I've been with him since he was given to me. He has never loved anyone.
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Why the fuck are you telling me all of this?
You think I could have done something?
I couldn't have done a goddamn thing.
People die. I don't control when that happens!
[ Because he's never tried to.
Not once.
He has no idea if he could stop something or not, because he has literally. Never. Tried.
And here is a man who deals directly in death at the highest level you can get, and he's very heavily suggesting that all these years Muyoung has been wrong. All the lives lost could have been prevented, or at least delayed.
Muyoung had it in his power to prevent this, and he didn't.
He wants to vomit. ]
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You have been given a gift and yet, despite embracing it, you run from it. As a result, people die. Yes, as reapers we come for the soul but sometimes, things happen where we lose it and they are returned to their bodies.
The guilt you always feel is on you.
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[ He's angry, and he doesn't know what to do. So he's lashing out like a bratty teen while he paces the length of his small apartment almost obsessively. His mind is reeling, and he doesn't know what to do with himself as he loses it over this new revelation.
It shouldn't be though, should it? There was never any particular reason he became so wrapped up in the idea that he couldn't change people's fates, except...
Except he didn't want that responsibility. He didn't want it to be on him. He was just a kid when they started happening. How the hell was twelve when he had his first vision.
He couldn't do anything! He couldn't save anyone!
Except he wasn't twelve anymore, and even if he really couldn't save anyone still, he hadn't even tried.
Enma can make those arrangements all he wants, because right now for the first time in over two years Muyoung is coming to a dead stop in the middle of his living room, and staring blankly at the floor in front of his feet before he starts to cry. It starts off light, water pooling at the bottom of his eye until it spills over and rolls down his cheek, but within minutes ugly sobs are wracking through his body as he sinks to the floor, and hugs his knees to himself.
He's not twelve anymore, but he feels like he is again. He's barely an adult despite the fact that he's been taking care of himself for the past couple of years, managing his own business, and swallowing emotions like a hardened man. He's only nineteen, and the only support pillar he had, the faulty belief that he had no way to help the people he had visions of, has been shattered, and he's collapsing under the weight of the responsibility he never wanted. ]
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[it's unclear whether or not he knew that muyoung was going to break down, making sending texts useless that he decided to appear in the other's home.
enma is leaning against one of the walls, arms crossed against his chest, watching muyoung breakdown.
does he feel sorry? just a little]
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He wants to be angry. He wants to be absolutely livid with this man, but he can't pull himself out of his own guilt and self-loathing spiral right now to muster the energy for it.
So he wipes his face off on the back of his hand, trying to get the labored breathing under control before he looks back up at Enma with a blank expression.
Even if Enma hadn't popped in to see him sob the red, puffy eyes and trace tears still on his face would give him away, but he has done an admirable job of killing all emotion on his face. ]
Get the hell out of here.
[ His voice, however, sounds broken and shaky. There's no hiding how he's barely holding things together in that. ]
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he removes himself from the wall and heads for muyoung, bending down in front of him. enma takes the human’s chin gently in his hand but there a minor tightness in the grip as his way of saying not to try anything unless muyoung wants to regret it]
You’re still young, Muyoung. You can still make up for all the deaths you let happen. For letting Haruto die.
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The touch has him tensing up, but he doesn't pull out of Enma's grasp yet. He doesn't trust himself to say much, and it takes everything in him to stare back up at Enma blankly, his expression as dead as the people he could have apparently saved. ]
How?
[ One simple word is all he has it in him to manage right now. He can say it without too my stress or emotion behind it. He can get it out without falling to pieces a second time. ]
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She's always been a social little thing though, and she crawls out from under her desk drowsily, and patters over to Muyoung's bed. She lifts the blanket off his toes, sliding herself underneath and slinking her way up his body. When her head pops out beside his, she grins widely, wrapping her arms around him and settling in. ]
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Though at the very least they wait maybe an hour two longer than what Marisol is doing right now as she crawls into his bed. He grunts at the sensation of his blanket being lifted in the first place, and after a short moment grunts again as she embraces him.
Just to give her a warning too. ]
Still sleep time for at least three more hours.
[ Because he knows what she's like, and he knows that cuddling doesn't always stay quiet and sleepy for long. ]
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She's not looking for that now though. It's early, and she's still sleepy too. For now.
To his warning she only squeezes him tighter, rubbing her face against his hair. ]
Okaaa-ay.
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He sighs slightly at her nuzzling her way against his scalp, and shoves the side of his face deeper into his pillow.
If she keeps to it, honestly it won't be that bad. When Muyoung had a girlfriend it was in high school, so it's not like he ever really got used to sleeping with another person in his bed. It's a cool enough day right now that it's not unpleasant though, and he'll never, ever admit to it, but it's nice to have a reminder that he's not alone anymore.
Even if not being alone means playing dad to a monster fox in girl form. ]
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She settles happily into Muyoung's side, squeezing him affectionately and squishing her face against his for maximum amount of Muyoung. Today, the park is second on her list of things she wants to do, and this is the first. ]
Love you.
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He sighs again, and reaches up blindly to try and pat her head, though likely he's just sort of awkwardly patting his face. The point is he's making an attempt, and that's got to count for something. ]
Love you too.
[ It's a half asleep admission of affection, and she'll have a hell of a time getting it out of him again later when he's more awake. At least Muyoung isn't tsun enough to deny he said it when it's brought up though. ]
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It wouldn't have changed her own feelings anyway, and she coos quietly, rubbing her face against his like an affection-hungry cat. ]
Really really really really really love you.
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Now there's no doubt the feelings and the confession are real, even if he means it in the most platonic or even familial of ways.
That said, even half asleep he's never been in the habit of playing cutesy one-ups of affection. The insistence of just how much she loves him has Muyoung letting out a tired grunt as he reaches up a lazy hand to give her a pat that's half just lightly smacking his face against the side of her face instead. ]
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Which is a lot. Even more than her five reallys- even as much as ten, twenty reallys. She adores him, loves him unconditionally, and isn't going to let a little face slapping stop her.
She squeezes him tightly, shuffling her body in even closer to make sure there's absolutely no space left between them. ]
Love youu.
[ Tiredly, low energy. She's starting to settle in and nod off, but not enough to let Muyoung go back to sleep without knowing that she loves him. ]
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Well, alright, at the beginning he was a little doubtful, but Marisol is just so genuine about everything she does that it quickly became easy to accept that she'd formed an attachment to him that fast. She's a woman who loves simply and openly, and it's something that Muyoung both admires and envies about her.
He certainly can't seem to manage that himself, even if he does have a lot of affection for her as well. He never seems to manage to let her know that though until she initiates things like this.
And even when she does he has a tendency to ruin it with things like-- ]
It's too early for love.
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She doesn't care how much he ruins whatever moment they're having, because she just loves him. ]
Noooo...
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This is easier, even if it's disrupting his sleep at the moment. ]
Sleep more now. Love later.
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She's starting to lose steam, her tight squeeze of Muyoung's body just a little bit looser as she weighs heavily down on him. ]
Love youuu...
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Sometimes living with Marisol is a bit like having a dog, other times it's like having a kid, but regardless of the strange responsibility that comes with living with her, Muyoung is glad to have her here.
He sometimes wishes he was the kind of person who could express that better without wanting to die, but for now he'll wrap an arm comfortable around her, and give a quiet grunt of agreement in return. ]