Work Text:
Sometimes it’s the happy memories that become the most painful.
“Hey, the paint of my personal mark’s chipping off,” Haruto peeked his head into the room where Theo was. The other boy was concentrated, narrow green eyes fixed intently on the drawing being born from his hand. Upon hearing Haruto’s voice, he started and hastily shut his sketchbook, looking up to meet his gaze with an awkward smile.
“You need me to go fix it?” Haruto looked at him questioningly, glancing back and forth between Theo’s eyes and his now closed sketchbook. “What were you drawing?”
Theo turned his head away. “Nothing,” he muttered as he stood up, snatching up Haruto’s hand in his and pulling him out the entry and exitway. He spoke louder, “You said you needed me to fix your personal mark, yeah?”
Haruto smirked. He was probably drawing something bad. A part of him wanted to tease the fox-like boy more, but he decided against it for his own sake. For the wrath of Theo was one to fear.
As Theo dragged Haruto towards where his Juggernaut lay, he stopped suddenly. Seemingly having just realized he was latched onto his friend’s hand like a koala to a tree, he retracted it before mumbling something and rushing off.
Something about him needing to go grab the paint…? Haruto shook his head and smiled. Theo was too easy to fluster. Although it did make things for fun. Maybe not for Theo, but fun for him.
Haruto leaned his weight against his Juggernaut as he waited for the blonde boy to return. Staring around mindlessly, he slowly let his eyes drift up to the sky. It was a beautiful day. The skies were bright and blue, and a fair amount of white fluffy clouds decorated the sky. Haruto hummed a tune to himself, a song he remembered his mother loving as he looked at the sight above him.
There was at least one benefit to being out here in the eighty-sixth sector. It was beautiful. There were no cars or buildings or even people in sight. He and his Juggernaut were alone in this pure, empty land.
There’s nothing in the eighty-sixth sector other than ruins and mechs and the eighty-six themselves. It’s not like they ever asked to live here, but even Haruto admits that this solitude and peace is nice. He sometimes feels protective over the eighty-sixth sector. Though he despises being forced to fight for the Republic of San Magnolia, he doesn’t despise the sector itself.
This is their land. This sector is their home. It was the one place they were allowed, and the one place they were allowed to call their home.
He hates to admit it, but he does love this place. Rather, he’s grown to love it. He loves the openness, the endless skies and fresh, crisp air. But above all, he loves his fellow eighty-six.
They’re what keeps me alive, after all.
Haruto jerks when he feels a tentative tap on his shoulder. He glances over to lock eyes with Theo, who was now holding multiple buckets filled with assorted colors. He walks closer to the other and reaches out for one. “Let me take some. They look heavy.”
Theo scoffed. “I’m not weak, I can handle “heavy” things, Haruto.” Nonetheless, he hands over two of the buckets.
Yellow and white. It would’ve been funny if he gave me yellow and black. Those are practically his colors, after all. Well, we all kind of have black on us. We’re all stuck with this trashy black shirt that’s way too hot.
The two walked back to his Juggernaut and laid the cans down on the grass.
To be fair, he looks good in black.
Haruto’s personal mark thankfully wasn’t too complicated when compared to Shin or Anju’s. His was just a falcon. Falke.
Most personal marks didn’t use many colors either, usually ranging from three to four max. But in terms of complexity, “Falke” was on the simpler side. He felt a little less bad about disturbing Theo’s free time.
I would’ve felt real shitty if my personal mark was super detailed with a thousand colors.
Despite his qualms about taking his friend’s time, Theo seemed to be enjoying himself. There was a slight, peaceful smile on his face as he began opening up the fresh cans of paint. Haruto bent down, his shadow blanketing over the grass as he got closer. “It’s been a long time since we got new cans,” he commented. His companion nodded and wrenched off the first lid. “Got lucky on the last search. I guess one of the people who lived in one of the houses liked painting,” he said. “I think we were able to bring back almost a fresh can of every color.”
Haruto whistled. “What a steal,” he pointed to the contraption Theo was using to open the cans. “Is that a can opener?” he asked incredulously. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of those for at least 5 years.”
“Yeah. Again, got lucky. It was from the same house where we got the paint.”
Haruto grinned. “What a score that person’s home was, then!” Theo nodded again and dipped one of his paint brushes into the white and began patching up the chipped places on his personal mark.
It was like patching up the ruined parts of Falke.
Falke, who was Haruto. This Personal Name, this Juggernaut, was him, according to the white pigs. Falke was a name he had started responding to over four years ago.
He stared at his personal mark. From their last battle against multiple Ameise, his marking had gotten battered. Paint was missing from where his Juggernaut had been hit, revealing cold metal underneath.
All of the eighty-six treasured their personal marks. After all, this mark, this name, was proof that they had survived this long. They were the longest survivors at present, and even though this place would be their execution ground, it was still like home to Haruto.
It was nothing compared to how his life had been before the Legion had emerged and the eighty-six were forced into war. But even still, moments like now were nice.
Helping out Anju with cooking, joking around with the rest of the boys, playing darts– they were all fun. Scavenging with the others out on that endless open land. When the Legion wasn’t out, it made him feel like they were the last people left on earth.
Maybe, I’d be fine with that. I think it’d be okay, if that really were the case.
I almost wish it were true.
Sure, Haruto didn’t ask for this life at all. But despite it having been forced upon him and the rest of the eighty-six, it was a life he had grown to slowly accept.
We probably wouldn’t have met had the war never happened.
The realization hit him the same as it always did.
Is it wrong of me to almost feel grateful that I’m here now? Is that okay?
Was it wrong to try to love his life now, when hundreds had left before him?
He watched as Theo hummed as he continued painting over his personal mark.
You fix me. You heal me.
You don’t even know how badly I’ve fallen for you.
And if I were braver, perhaps I would’ve told you.
Even though the eighty-sixth sector was quiet today, the Legion were still out there. If he looked out into a sea of Legion, how many were the restless souls of his friends? How many of them were his family?
How many would there be, a week from now?
I could die today. I could die tomorrow.
And when I die, I’ll go out never telling you how I feel about you.
He felt like crying, but held it in. After all, it’s a beautiful afternoon. A rare gift from this unforgiving and cruel world.
Because if I told you, I would break you.
If I told you, and I died tonight, that would only hurt you more.
We’re not allowed to love, but I want to confess my sin to you. I want to be able to hold you and teach you the dance my mother taught me. And you’d probably stumble a few times, but laugh and smile when you finally get it right.
It was a beautiful dance. His mother was the one who had choreographed it for her and his father’s first anniversary. Haruto remembers the first time she performed it for him. He thought she was beautiful. His father thought the same. The two watched in awe in wonder as she swept along the wooden floorboards of their home in the warm light, like a monarch fluttering in the light of a candle.
I still remember the steps.
He danced in his mind, in a room with that same hardwood floor and sunny light.
I think you’d look just as beautiful.
Another brush stroke, this time going slightly out of the lines. The brush fell away when Theo realized his mistake, his other hand quickly wiping it away. “Ah, oops.” The paint was swept away, transferring to his fingertips. It stained a pale yellow.
When Theo finished the repainting, Haruto helped move the buckets back to the storage space and washed out the brushes. “Thanks for fixing it,” he said. Theo hummed. “Yeah, no problem.”
It was the beginning of golden hour when they walked back to help with routine meal preparations. The sun was lower in the sky, and the clouds had begun to take on a red hue. He walked slightly behind Theo, where the light rays illuminated his figure in a softly glowing outline.
You’re beautiful.
A little farther away, he could see Raiden waving towards them. Theo turned his head around and grinned. “Guess we’re late,” he chuckled. Haruto almost didn’t form a response, too enamored by the sun.
He smiled back. “Guess so,” he laughed. Theo picked up his pace, and Haruto chased after him, like how the monarch chases after its mate in spring.
I’ll never end up reaching you, but this is enough for now.
The view, though from behind, was as beautiful as he always imagined.
Not even a year later, only five of the original number of the eighty-six stood in front of a slightly swaying body, dangling from his own Juggernaut.
A pool of thick blood beneath it, dripping from his neck like a faucet that hadn’t been turned off. It was pouring out sickeningly fast, feeding the greedy puddle more than what it already had.
His head was gone.
When Theo saw the headless body, his headless knight, he fell to his knees and cried.
It’s been a long time.
His wails were hoarse and dying when they flickered out. Raiden knelt down next to him, a pained expression on his normally strong face. “We have to go,” he whispered.
Right. The reconnaissance mission. They were leaving in two days, to their final resting place. They had work to do, preparations to prepare. Their rooms needed to be cleaned out. They still needed to write that letter to the Major, too.
Theo lifted his head, emerald eyes staring at where Haruto’s should’ve been. They were always a beautiful red.
Red and green. Contrasting colors, he knows.
He pursed his lips and fought back another surge of tears.
Contrasting, but we went together so well.
He stood up, and looked at his upside down hanging body one last time.
We’re leaving soon, Haru. I wish you could’ve come. Wouldn’t it have been nice? That final bit of freedom, before we died?
The words were left unspoken, and Haruto’s body did not answer.
There’s guaranteed to be a ton of Legion out there, too.
Silence.
I wonder if I’ll meet you again?
He turned around and left with the others, back to their base in the sector. It hurt to leave his body like that, agonizingly so.
I can’t even give you a burial. I don’t even have the time to put your body upright.
When they walked away, he forced himself to not look back.
When I die, maybe I’ll call out your name.
When I become Legion, come find me.
I’ll search for you, so search for me.
The word was quiet and barely left his tongue.
Haruto.