whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

[[DUBSTEP QUIETUS YOU GUYS

DUBSTEP QUIETUS

DUBSTEP QUIETUS]]

[[*via Wub Machine, thank]]

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

[[This blog is now unaffiliated, I guess.

I wanna keep this blog because I love my writing, love my headcanons, and may someday go back to roleplaying Seven. I don't have anything in the way of plans for it, though.

Thanks for the fun.]]

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

"Haaaaaaah?"

Seven found himself scowling at his phone for a good few seconds before he actually processed what he was seeing. Gentarou Hongou was calling him? But WHY?

...Probably just to raise his blood pressure.

Growling, Seven muted the TV and hit the [OK] button on his phone.

"Yeah?"

@Seven

Hongou took a deep breath, opening up his phone and sorting through his contacts. He didn’t want to contact the detective, but some niggling voice in the back of his mind was telling him to. Normally he wouldn’t trust his instincts, but he did remember some of their previous interactions in the hospital and, unfortunately, they ended on a bad note.

Hesitating only for a few seconds, he dialed the detective’s phone number and placed the phone to his ear, listening as it rang.

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

Seeing that much blood come up at once was enough to stop Seven right on the spot, staring. He was furious at this man, but...damn it.

With the strained patience of a harried husband, Seven strolled over and, before Hongou could stop him, mashed a finger on the emergency call button.

"What people deserve doesn't determine shit. You should know that by now."

He didn't bother making eye contact with Hongou as he said so. In short order, a nurse came in, his eyes widening at the sight of the blood all over the bed.

"He's been coughin' it up the last half a minute or so," Seven volunteered.

Once Hongou was preoccupied with getting help, the detective silently excused himself from the room.

[ + sleeping beauty's lookin' a little haggard + ]

“W-wai-!”

Hongou cried out for him to stop, but felt blood bubble at his lips as he did so. Droplets of crimson stained the white sheets that Seven had just changed. The older man looked down at his lap in horror, unable to comprehend why this was happening. Had he been thinking more rationally, he would have found the answer almost instantly. However, he was not prepared for the stress on his body to produce such a negative reaction.

He continued to cough, unable to catch his breath. As he did so, however, he continued to yell. In his still disoriented state, Seven was a threat, and he was reacting like a wounded animal; with anger.

“Do you… do you think I asked for them to care? For you to be curious about how I changed? No, why should I? Why do I deserve it!? I don’t! I don’t even deserve your or anyone’s forgiveness, and yet I yearn for that still!”

Panting, he added once more, feeling his vision swaying and spinning. “I find it extremely hard to believe that you are as alone as you claim. Are you mocking the fact that I have absolutely no one?! Or are you trying to relate to that loneliness!?” By the time he was finished, more blood leaked out of his mouth and splattered across the sheets.

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

Help?

The cascade of images, overflowing with bits of broken thought and memory, eclipsed the detective's own frustrated apprehension with straight-up fear...one all the more terrifying in that he didn't understand it.

But what he did understand, at least, was the plea for help...something that'd been asked of him so very, very many times.

"Help me carry this guitar, kid, and maybe I'll teach you to use it sometime."

"Yuuta. Yuuta, I need your help, and you're just standing there like a buffoon! Do you get off on this somehow, watching your mother in pain?!"

"Help YOURSELF, Maruyama. Any more absences, and you can forget about the 'force'."

"You have to help! There's no way out of here!"

"She's still in there, dumbass! I thought you were here to help us!"

"You can help by toeing the line, Detective, and fast. You're making us look bad enough as it is."

"Look, what you've been doing isn't the sort of 'help' we need around here."

"In addition to your role as a player, Detective, you will also help me by surrendering your memory."

"What, even a big rhino like you can't help open a stupid door? What's the point of even having you here?"

"Surely you don't expect us lovely young ladies to help you with all that unsightly coal...Right, June?"

"Seven...help."

"Maybe with your help, we can put this bastard away for good."

"No, you were a terrific help, Mr. Maruyama. Unfortunately, justice is not a perfect thing."

"I assure you, Mr. Maruyama, we would be helping each other."

"Why are you helping me like this? No one asked you to, and I’m sure no one wanted you to."

Seven's own bits of memories were spilling out across the fields now, swiftly and not at all coherently, agitated by the sheer volume of fear and pain thrust upon him.

Sure, I'll help. I'm good for that, at least.

[ + @ace - leave my brain alone + ]

Seven couldn’t have chose worse triggering words.

At ‘experiment,’ his mind spewed out images of the first Nonary game. Since his body felt as if it was on fire, he pictured the incinerator. Like any of his routine nightmares, Hongou himself was in the incinerator and unable to leave. Zero’s masked features overlapped the images, and she slowly took off her mask to reveal a completely blank face.

It was then that his mind shifted to ‘Kurashikis,’ which shook his mental connection with Seven almost in an earthquake-esque fashion, trying to break off with no success. His consciousness then sent out a variety of memorable images and scenes: Aoi and Akane looking at him as his chest convulsed with spasms, Aoi’s cries as he struggled with nightmares, Hongou’s house engulfed in flames…

Concentrating and using all of his mental energy, Hongou sent out one word. One small, four-letter word that he hoped and prayed Seven would understand. Because at this moment, he didn’t even really recognize it was the detective. It was someone who was there, and he needed their…

Help.

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

[[hmm, it seems the last few asks seven received got through, but the indicator number for the inbox did not appear, so i didn't think to check it.../slumps over. please forgive seven-mun? if it keeps doing this i'll just have to check the inbox regularly, i suppose. i'm extra bummed i didn't get to use your prompt, morphogenetic anon~!]]

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

The blood was invading his every sense. God damn it. God damn it. It wasn't real, right? But it felt real.

On top of that, there was the shuddering sensation as their connection faltered. Unfortunately, it stabilized. Somehow. For some reason.

In his own mind, in his own place, he was brought back to the fight of a few days ago, and the mental and emotional sores they'd left behind. He couldn't hold on to any thought for any length of time, though, especially when every last image or sound he could bring to mind was drowning in blood.

Hongou...what the fuck are you doing to me? Some goddamn experiment? What, the Kurashikis didn't fuck up my head bad enough?

It wasn't an attempt at communication so much as a disoriented plea for clarity. What Seven didn't count on, however, was that it wasn't confined to his own mind.

[ + @ace - leave my brain alone + ]

Feelings of utter despair traveled across the fields, echoing Hongou’s fear and inner feelings of terror, as well. Though he felt no pain, a horrible numbness covered his entire body and mind. He couldn’t speak, not even telepathically, so instead his mind latched onto what he heard.

“Damn it, stop the bleeding!”

“The fever’s at 38.8°.”

“Shit! Mr. Hongou, hold on! Stay with us!”

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

The little comment about friends and family was the part that finally got to Seven. Wow, it really didn't get through to this guy, did it? He didn't even realize he was drawing himself up in anger again. It all just...came.

"It'd be nice to have those things I'm always told a hero gets. The fame, the girl, and especially the friends...but you're the one with those. Looks like you make 'em in your sleep. But you, you..."

The words just came too slowly. The detective stood suddenly and immediately began to pace.

"What kind of fucking KID are you that ya figure all that's on my mind is beating the shit out of you?! I did that! You had a fucking GUN upside Kashiwabara's head! Maybe if...Maybe if it hadn't been a matter of getting our asses out alive, I woulda kept at it and taken out a few ribs, at least! 'Cause yeah, I was fuckin' mad!" His words were taking on more and more of a growling quality. "While you were a fuckin' PSYCHO! And you never had to do time thanks to you and your, your defense makin' me out as a fuckin' lunatic. Yet I heard you were out lookin' for forgiveness and I thought...Maybe he's different. This is somethin' I need to see. Because I...tsh...I coulda done that! I'm not some murderous goddamned shitbag holdin' onto a grudge for the rest of his damn life. Can you even GET THAT THROUGH YOUR HEAD?!"

Seven grabbed ahold of the foot of the bed, for sake of SOME way to expend energy that would keep him from yelling, and leaned over it menacingly.

"I'm pretty damn sure now you're not a monster. Prob'ly not a psycho, either, but if this is you, if this is what you're made of, those folks fussin' over your half-dead ass are gonna realize that sooner or later--and then, not even I'm gonna be lonely enough to drink with you again."

There was nothing Seven needed to pick up to take with him on the way out. He just went for the door. This was just...really dumb. Not just because he'd tried to make some connection with this man, to try to understand what was going on inside this...fucked up piece of work, but because he'd wound up taking Hongou seriously in his sick, obviously addled state and it'd just...snowballed. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

All that, and there was no denying he was kinda jealous.

[ + sleeping beauty's lookin' a little haggard + ]

It was getting harder to not act like a dick to the poor sick person in the room.

“Ehh, like I told you. Same guys who showed up at the crash. ‘Specially Light. Didn’t think he of all people’d be that concerned.”

It wasn’t meant as a jab, but at this point, he almost hoped it was interpreted that way.

“When I saw nobody else was around, I just thought I’d leave. Wasn’t to be, I guess.”

An insincere smile.

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

The words and sensations washed over him, meaningless, until the sound of Hongou. Oh great, what did he have to do with this? That paranoid, misanthropic old jackass. The look of helpless, visceral anger on his face when they'd last spoken. Seven was done with him, DONE.

He'd spent enough time on him, pursuing him, trying to get him to pay for his crimes...and finally trying to open up to him, figure out what his deal was. That had not worked.

...This was not a feeling the big man knew, but it sucked, and he knew it had to do with Gentarou Hongou.

The rest of it...Something about the other man's condition? What'd that matter? What was the point? It was confusing and it pissed Seven off. An anger rose within him, slow but unstoppable, and curled out into the field like a drop of red ink hitting clear water.

[ + @ace - leave my brain alone + ]

Feelings of utter despair traveled across the fields, echoing Hongou’s fear and inner feelings of terror, as well. Though he felt no pain, a horrible numbness covered his entire body and mind. He couldn’t speak, not even telepathically, so instead his mind latched onto what he heard.

“Damn it, stop the bleeding!”

“The fever’s at 38.8°.”

“Shit! Mr. Hongou, hold on! Stay with us!”

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

What was this guy's problem?!

"I'm...really not the guy to ask that. 's been a while since anyone cared about me, but nobody doesn't wanna be cared about, right?" Feelings questions. Where's a guy supposed to go with stuff like that? "It's just funny, seein' that kid all worked up like he's the mother of your kids or somethin'. Everyone wound up more concerned than you'd expect."

Seven being no exception, but hell if he'd admit to such a thing in this lifetime.

...It hit him then that Hongou was starting to get that funny look in his eyes again. Not merely annoyed or perturbed, but...that look like he was losing touch. It wasn't a predatory look this time, though. This time, he looked cornered. Cornered and angry.

"Look. Whatever you think I'm up to, I'm not."

[ + sleeping beauty's lookin' a little haggard + ]

It was getting harder to not act like a dick to the poor sick person in the room.

“Ehh, like I told you. Same guys who showed up at the crash. ‘Specially Light. Didn’t think he of all people’d be that concerned.”

It wasn’t meant as a jab, but at this point, he almost hoped it was interpreted that way.

“When I saw nobody else was around, I just thought I’d leave. Wasn’t to be, I guess.”

An insincere smile.

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

It was getting harder to not act like a dick to the poor sick person in the room.

"Ehh, like I told you. Same guys who showed up at the crash. 'Specially Light. Didn't think he of all people'd be that concerned."

It wasn't meant as a jab, but at this point, he almost hoped it was interpreted that way.

"When I saw nobody else was around, I just thought I'd leave. Wasn't to be, I guess."

An insincere smile.

[ + sleeping beauty's lookin' a little haggard + ]

“Thank you for that, at least,” he said with a frown, his eyes not leaving Seven. It didn’t make any sense as to why he was still here; he didn’t have to be by any means.

Just how long had Seven been here, anyway? If he knew that Hongou had been out for five days, did that mean…

“Have you… have you been visiting every day since the crash?” he asked, his voice quiet with disbelief.

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

[ + @ace - leave my brain alone + ]

Big legal cases meant a lot of work, and a lot of work meant that the less exciting parts would wind up in Seven's hands. Chopsticks in one hand, a small leatherbound datebook in the other, the big man's current task was to analyze and take notes on the info held in that and a number of other seized documents--and he saw no harm in eating lunch at the same time. Well, at least, the occasional stray drop of soy sauce never hurt anything.

Biting into a slice of fried potato, he squinted at the page. There was one sloppily-written character that he couldn't quite identify...damn, he'd never been perfect with kanji. It seemed like the name of a place? Great, now he couldn't read anything. Every character looked the same.

What? That didn't make sense. Since when could he not...

...Oh...

...An overpowering heat rolled over Seven, as if someone had opened an oven right in front of his face. He felt weak as well all of a sudden, very weak. The rest of the potato dropped from his mouth to the table.

Perhaps it was because of the bad blood that'd come up when he'd last spoken to Hongou that this transmission hit Seven so hard. The fields accessed his mind roughly and without permission, overwhelming him with feeling first before any images. He didn't want this.

He also couldn't prevent it. Thoughts were coming in clearly from a desperate source, and to one with no more control of his own mind than any average individual, that meant he'd just have to let it come.

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

Why, yes.

"Nah, this's...the third time, I guess?" Lying comes easily when nobody seems to trust you in the first place. "Last two times it wasn't so quiet, though. You've had enough people keepin' an eye on ya, there's usually someone to talk to. Doesn't look like it this time, though." Seven shrugged. "You're like, right in the middle of town here."

[ + sleeping beauty's lookin' a little haggard + ]

“Thank you for that, at least,” he said with a frown, his eyes not leaving Seven. It didn’t make any sense as to why he was still here; he didn’t have to be by any means.

Just how long had Seven been here, anyway? If he knew that Hongou had been out for five days, did that mean…

“Have you… have you been visiting every day since the crash?” he asked, his voice quiet with disbelief.

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

"I was late. Before the real cops, yeah, but too late to do much." He scratched at his ear, pretending to gaze out the window. "I did call 'em, though. When I saw the accident, I mean, before I got on the scene."

[ + sleeping beauty's lookin' a little haggard + ]

Hongou still glanced up at him fearfully. “I… I couldn’t tell you. Honestly. I was unconscious the entire time; I don’t remember anything.” He clenched his fists tightly, shaking his head. “I… I must warn you that I don’t think harming me will get you anywhere; regardless of what I’ve done, we are in a hospital, and I do not think it’d fare well for you…” Like in every situation, he tried talking the beast down.

He was still a bit disoriented, and once again mistook Seven’s annoyed tone for a serious threat.

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

Hongou's fear seemed almost funny to Seven. It really didn't feel like he was someone somebody could be afraid of anymore in a way more serious than "Holy crap, a big guy with scars!" Here was someone who had genuinely been his enemy, probably the worst antagonist of his life, and certainly had once been the one with the most to fear--But man, it just...

...Well, not much of anything mattered to Seven at this point, and realizing that was none too pleasant.

"I didn't save anyone." Seven shrugged slightly, face blank. "Doesn't matter if ya don't trust me, I guess."

[ + sleeping beauty's lookin' a little haggard + ]

Hongou still glanced up at him fearfully. “I… I couldn’t tell you. Honestly. I was unconscious the entire time; I don’t remember anything.” He clenched his fists tightly, shaking his head. “I… I must warn you that I don’t think harming me will get you anywhere; regardless of what I’ve done, we are in a hospital, and I do not think it’d fare well for you…” Like in every situation, he tried talking the beast down.

He was still a bit disoriented, and once again mistook Seven’s annoyed tone for a serious threat.

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

Was Hongou...seriously afraid of him? It's not like he had reason to pretend. He was probably still a little hazy, anyway. Great, this conversation was just going great.

"Calllllllm down, I don't wanna hurt ya or nothin'." Seven held up his open hands in an awkward attempt to appear harmless. "You prob'ly feel like unsold hamburger right now an' can't tell up from down, but just trust me, your friendly neighborhood detective ain't out for blood."

Okay, so "trust me" was both trite and something Seven was pretty sure he didn't deserve, but hopefully Hongou wouldn't focus too much on that part. It was getting to the point, he realized, that he would probably have to volunteer something about himself if he was going to convince this guy he didn't have a plan--and there wasn't much he was at all okay with sharing.

"I'm, uh...That shit's over."

Maybe picking up the flowers would be a good idea right now after all if it meant an out from this unfortunate dialogue.

[ + sleeping beauty's lookin' a little haggard + ]

Hongou still glanced up at him fearfully. “I… I couldn’t tell you. Honestly. I was unconscious the entire time; I don’t remember anything.” He clenched his fists tightly, shaking his head. “I… I must warn you that I don’t think harming me will get you anywhere; regardless of what I’ve done, we are in a hospital, and I do not think it’d fare well for you…” Like in every situation, he tried talking the beast down.

He was still a bit disoriented, and once again mistook Seven’s annoyed tone for a serious threat.

[whattheheckcomeafterjune-blog]

Seven wasn't sure if he was relieved that his actions were no longer being scrutinized, or annoyed that Hongou didn't appear to be taking his annoyance seriously. Whichever it was, he wasn't all exactly cool with being "chosen" to help this man.

"No need to...rack your brain or whatever. I've read up on that stuff a little myself."

The parts he understood, anyway.

"Can't say I'm all that pleased that it happened to me. I wasn't all that close. I wasn't even the first one there."

...Then it clicked.

"Maybe it wasn't just me."

All this shit just made Seven's brain hurt.

[ + sleeping beauty's lookin' a little haggard + ]

Hongou had trouble processing this. All he could focus on was Seven’s reddening face, and mistook his embarrassment with fury. Swallowing hard, he reached over with his good arm and pressed the call button.

A nurse came in almost immediately. She seemed surprised, checking her ever-faithful clipboard for details, and said, “Oh, Mr. Hongou, I’m glad to see you’re finally awake.” Her gaze fell on his bloody hand. “Oh, my…” she murmured, clicking her tongue and left for a moment, returning with some disinfectant and gauze. She cleaned the wound and replaced and re-administered the IV needle.

After she checked Hongou’s vitals, she gave a quaint nod to both men, said, “A doctor will come by a little bit later,” and then took her leave.

Hongou gritted his teeth in frustration. He wasn’t sure why he was seeking protection from Seven, but that girl surely wasn’t going to give it to him, anyway. Not exactly thinking the clearest, Hongou assumed at this moment in time that Seven was going to hurt him.

Recoiling as far away from the man as he could manage on the bed, he said quietly, “I… I believe you. I don’t know why you were granted access to them, but the morphogenetic fields are one of the best means of communication. I’ve used them myself a few times. And for whatever reason, my mind must have called out to someone, and the fields chose you as the receiver.”

With a sigh, he finished, “I don’t understand how these things work on a personal level. I could tell you every detail about them from textbook definitions, but I cannot even begin to describe how it feels to use them.”