#i need someone to psychoanalyse me and the game to figure out what exactly relaxes me

[iamthekarmapolice]

also cyberpunk is weirdly just utterly relaxing to me? like when I play the game before bed and i walk around the streets I can actually feel my eyelids get heavy and everything. i used to play bg3 before bed too but that game did not wind me down at all and i’d end up having weird dreams about turn-based combat. since i started playing cp2077, exactly a week now, there hasn’t been a night where i haven’t taken more than 10 minutes to fall asleep. so sincerely, thank you cyberpunk 2077

[mintchocolateleaves]

Cost of Freedom (13/??)

Summary: In which the plan for escape is addressed, Kaito tells a story, and the countdown is set for May 3rd. Prison!AU.

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March bleeds into April.

Even though he knows days aren’t getting shorter, and that time isn’t set to fast forward, Kaito feels like each day passes at a much quicker rate than the last. Most of the time he tries to forget about it, focusing on his magic tricks - Shinichi’s discovered a majority of them, but is still pondering over the more complex tricks - to avoid actively thinking, but some days it’s difficult.

A week passes from his days in solitary, and there are 29 days left until 3rd of May. It makes him feel antsy, especially when he thinks about all the things they haven’t planned.

“You’re sure he’s able to leave clothes in the laundry room?” Kaito asks when they are cleaning dishes after lunch, polishing rice bowls until he’s satisfied they are truly clean. “We can’t mess this up.”

From beside him, Shinichi lets out a sigh. He’s been dealing with Kaito’s worrying for days now, and frankly, it’s surprising that he hasn’t snapped yet. Kaito sees it sometimes, irritation lurking behind his eyes, anger blooming in his pupils.

He says, “Oto-san says he can get them in there, quit fretting over it.”

Sometimes Kaito thinks that he cares more about this escape more than Shinichi does. Which is stupid, because if Kaito is caught all he needs to suffer through is a few more days of solitary - he shudders at the thought - whereas Shinichi will…

Kaito doesn’t even want to think about it.

There’s a lot he doesn’t want to think about these days.

“But what about when we’re outside the prison, huh?” Kaito asks, and he turns to Shinichi wide-eyed, questions scalding his tongue, burning against his throat every second he doesn’t ask them. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, how are we supposed to avoid capture if all the guards have to do is drive down the road and drag us back?”

Another sigh, “I told you I’ll figure that bit out myself, leave it to me.”

It doesn’t exactly fill Kaito with confidence. He needs to have a more fully formed plan, the thief thinks, before they can try further. His heists were always planned fully in advance - and he’d had back up plans for his backup plans. How is he supposed to function with only one plan, and a barely formed one at that?

“Listen,” Shinichi says, “you don’t have anyone on the outside right? So leave that part to me.”

Ouch, Kaito thinks, and he places a hand over his heart as if wounded. “How dare you.”

“I’m right though, aren’t I?” Shinichi stops scrubbing at a bowl with rice stuck to the bottom, placing it back onto the counter and turning to face Kaito completely. “You don’t have anyone who can help you on this.”

Refusing to look at the ex-detective, Kaito picks up the abandoned bowl, washing it properly before placing it on the drying rack. There is always Jii, but it’d be unfair to bring the old man back into all of the trouble, and while Kaito knows that Jii wouldn’t mind helping, harbouring two escaped convicts, he can’t bring himself to ask for it.

“Not on this,” he sighs, “no. But… It makes me nervous not having the full plan, alright? We’ve got less than a month left. Who’re you getting the help from, one of your father’s contacts?”

Shinichi smiles, turns back to soapy water, the sleeves of his overalls soaked with water as he drops his hands back into the water, rubbing at dirty splotches of food on plates. Shaking his head he says, “not my father’s contacts, no. Someone we can trust.”

For a moment there is hesitation, then Kaito feels like he’s being shot through the chest with how pained he suddenly feels. “…We can’t trust your guard? Or your father?”

Shinichi disbelief is echoed by the furrowing of his brows and the ‘o’ shape of his mouth.

“W-wait, no we can! I didn’t mean it like that-”

When the countdown is at 27 days, Kaito comes to the conclusion that he might be paranoid. It’s not crippling, he doesn’t think, although it does leave him feeling considerably more jumpy as the clock ticks, time counting down to the inevitable.

He takes his frustration out on his playing cards, shuffling them over and over, performing trick after trick. Instead of thinking further on stressful things, he decides that it’s better to count his cards, creating his own stories with the numbers of the cards that show up.

“What are you doing?” Shinichi asks after watching him set down cards on the floor, slamming them down as if he is playing a game of snap, desperate to be the winner.

Kaito picks up his cards, shuffling them in his hands. “Just telling stories with the cards. Like this.”

He places the first card down, the ace of clubs, and begins to tell the story, “first there was just a boy,” he places down the next card - the king of hearts, “who idolised his father very much.”

The three of hearts, “for a long time, they boy lived along his parents, and was happy. His father taught him how to be a magician, and he taught him the importance of a poker face.” - The eight of spades - “It was a perfect life until the boy had to bury his father.”

Across from him, Shinichi takes a deep breath. His voice wavers as he says, “Kaito-”

Kaito continues with the story, because for some reason, he feels like it just needs to be told. He needs to tell the real story to someone, not one of the many versions, but the truth. For once, he doesn’t want to sugarcoat the truth, twisting it into a pretty, harmless lie.

“The family of three quickly became two.” Kaito places the three of clubs down, the two of hearts following in quick succession. He lets out a breathless laugh, dropping the jack of diamonds down. “But the boy never let it get him down, because he was always surrounded by people.”

Another ace - the ace of hearts. “He only had one close friend though, you know how it is, surrounded by people but still alone somehow. Except for that one person.” The two of clubs, “she was always kind, even though the two bickered all the time.”

“You don’t have to tell me this,” Shinichi says, when Kaito pauses, glancing away. It doesn’t stop him from dropping the next card - the eight of clubs - onto the pile he has already dropped. It glides through the air, weightless, reminding Kaito of the times he’s jumped carelessly from rooftops trusting that he’ll catch himself.

“Eight years passes before the boy learned the truth.” He places the king of spades down, “his father had been murdered." 

Another ace, spades this time. "Alone, the boy decided that he needed to do something about it. Get back at the people who were responsible.” The two of clubs. “So he split himself in two and dressed in white so those people could see that he’d never hide from them.”

He leans back, and grimaces. No poker smile can hide the nostalgia he feels telling the story, although he’s not sure whether he’s fond of the memories. Proud of them, maybe, because he’s never once looked back on his decisions and thought he should have reacted different.

Only… Kaito doesn’t really spend much time looking back - not when it leads to turning back and reminiscing on times when he was just Kuroba Kaito. He doesn’t look back on then, because he doesn’t want to think about how things would have turned out if he’s stayed as just Kaito.

“That’s it?” Shinichi asks after silence blossoms within their cell. “How does the story end?”

Kaito shuffles his remaining cards, spreading them out in his hands, “the story isn’t finished yet. I’ve still got a lot of cards left.”

“Who do you keep going to see?” Kaito asks when there are only three weeks left until May 3rd. He lifts himself up, leaning on his elbows, staring over at Shinichi as he is led out of the cell again. He’s had two visits in the past week, and Kaito’s not even sure how it’s possible because there haven’t been any visiting days this week. “I thought you stopped sending out visiting orders?”

Shinichi turns back as one of the guards grabs onto his arm, pulling him further out into the corridor as the close the cell door.

“It’s not a visit like that,” he says, “some people don’t need visiting orders remember. I’ve just got a very persistent man psychoanalysing me.”

He winks, before adopting that steely expression he usually does whenever he’s around anyone other than Kaito.

The thief leans back on his bed, shuffles his playing cards, flicking through his fingers until he’s certain he shouldn’t know where the aces he’s just been fiddling with are. (He does).

Kaito bites back a smile.

“I’ve got it sorted out.” Shinichi says when he gets back that day. “The getting away when we’re outside the prison’s walls. So now we just need to tweak the rest of the plan and we should be fine.”

Kaito crosses his arms and gives him a look, but Shinichi doesn’t offer him an explanation.

“…Shinichi.”

“Listen,” the ex-detective says, “it’s all planned, but I really can’t talk about it here. If anyone finds out the person who’s helping out is involved in this break out, there will be serious consequences for him. So… Just trust me on this bit, okay?”

“Is there anything I can do?” Kaito asks, and he waits, uncertain of what answer he will get.

The only response he gets is a shake of the head. Kaito tries not to let it get to him, tries not to let the uncertainty wash over him, drowning him, and holds on instead to the thread of hope he’s been granted. He reminds himself that his plan is gifting him with something he’s recently started to think was an impossible dream: freedom.

“Just trust me.” Shinichi says.

At this point, Kaito thinks he’d be a fool not to.

“Not long now,” Shinichi says when they are working in the laundry room, two days left of April. He’s a mixture of excited and nervous, has been as the days have raced past, too quickly for them to just sit back and relax.

“Yeah.” Kaito breathes. The same feeling spreads through him, a strange hybrid of his stomach churning and his heart lifting. He feels as if something is fluttering inside his stomach, but he’s not actually sure whether it’s butterflies or wasps getting ready to sting into his, spreading anxiety through his bloodstream like poison.

Or maybe they are bees, ready to lay down their lives to give him short bursts of adrenaline when the night finally arrives.

Kaito turns to Shinichi, lets out a small laugh and says, “I can’t wait.”

And then, after what feels like a lifetime of waiting, the calendar finally reaches May the 3rd.