[ 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. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
According to who?
no subject
no subject
[ 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?
no subject
Tell me, did you foresee Haruto's?
no subject
It's not a crime, and it's not something I can help.
I don't choose which deaths I see.
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
[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]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]