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WHO: Eichi & Anyone
WHAT: Time for some old nasty tea
WHEN: Some time in July
WHERE: In front of a weird claire's-like store he has been sleeping in
WARNINGS: None!

Would you like to try some tea?

[No matter who happens to be passing by the overly-pink and purple store, Eichi calls out to them with a calm soft voice, smiling as he gestures to a counter he's transformed into a makeshift tea bar. It appears to be a central area that certainly used to be where the cashiers stood, but now Eichi is sitting at one of the old, hardly kept together stools, an assortment of chipped and peeled and faded mugs or cups lining the counter. There's a stand of what probably used to hold random pens and accessories that's now holding a handful of packets and tins of... tea? Their markings are difficult to comprehend, not just from the passing of time and whatever happened here, but from how much of a knockoff this tea place really was. Whatever Eichi has managed to heat up with a pile of debris and an actual tea pot smells like something faintly herbal... though it's difficult to place how.]

I managed to find some in the back of a store, but I couldn't make sense of any of the labels, so I'm afraid the exact blend is a mystery to me.

[The store around him looks even more chaotic. There's a mattress shoved surprisingly neatly into one side of the store towards the back, lined to one side with raggedy stuffed animals. There's a life-sized doll of a certain Wataru Hibiki that some might have met in person on top of the mattress and tucked into the scrounged up ripped sheets and blankets making the "bed," surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the items. The shelves are lined with folded scrounged up clothing (one or two outfits worth), and a few items. To the opposite side of the store is a coffin, neatly pushed up against the wall and left closed.

On top of the weird scenery, this tea is so old and such a knock off that it's going to taste bland and disgusting, though, and Eichi seems aware of it enough to have not taken a sip at all of his own cup.]

Unfortunately, there seems to be a lack of extra stools or chairs here. I hope you don't mind.

---

(ooc: I just have this open prompt, but I'll probably use this as a catch-all as well! I'll put my hauntings threads in the comments. Hit me up if you want something personalized.)

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[He can always rely on Wataru to grant his every idiotic wish. Watching him do that so happily, so enthusiastically, all with his hair tied up like that... It keeps Eichi's gaze for some time, a warm smile on his face as he wanders further into the store.]

You always manage to make me smile. If you enjoy them as well, then please feel free to hold onto them. But there are more things deeper in this store, so I'd like to examine it thoroughly.

However...

[There are mirrors everywhere, and he really wants to mention how something feels odd about them, but somehow, the words won't come to his lips. Even after a few tries. Is it just that he doesn't know what exactly to say? What to pinpoint about it? That it's nothing?

His thinking interrupts him when he stumbles and knocks one small table mirror off, causing it to shatter and Eichi to step back in shock.]

Oh... [Oops.]

[ With the pretty light halfway unplugged, Wataru is shooting him a look in return. That's... it makes him happy to hear it, too. Not only for the obvious reason being that he wants to make everyone in the world happy, but specifically because Eichi smiling is important to him.

He's about to let the conversation lull in order to get the pretty light free, but once he does and has it tucked under an arm, he hears the tinkling of obvious glass—in this case, mirrored glass—breaking. ]

Oh? Are you alright, Eichi? If that was a mirror, you should be concerned with your luck for the next seven years.

[ He's on his way over to him now, placing the light down on a nearby floor shelf when he gets close. ]

I'm fine. You know as well as I do that 'luck' isn't anything real.

[He says it fairly lightly, though, but as Wataru steps forward, Eichi stands up from where he had been leaning, hands folding behind his back. His left hand is closed around a glass shard, though he's not sure why— staring straight at his reflection, his heart sinks as it winks, and he can't move as he feels that his view of himself on the sides mimics movements, walks off to the side, stretches, all while he's stuck in place.

But when he opens his mouth to explain his situation, nothing comes out that's of any help.]

There are countless mirrors placed precariously this way and that. I'll do my best to be careful, but... I'm afraid I've made it difficult to walk here.

[It's not that he didn't want to say that, but that the things he'd wanted to say first, or instead, were shoved aside...?]

Hmm hmm ♪ Saying things like that—they just make me want to believe in luck more.

[ It's mostly a joke; it's clear that he sees nothing wrong with the situation, except that for some reason Eichi's broken something. Wataru comes closer, stopping himself a few paces from him, then dramatically covers his face with his fingers. ]

A place that's difficult to walk around seems like the perfect place to test out my "luck", no?

[ The both of them probably know that any display of his "luck" is just going to be some form of practical magic or another, but he's playing around with the idea nonetheless. If Wataru holds a roulette out to you, the answer you fish out of it will always be exactly what he want it to be. ]

[Somehow, when Wataru puts his fingers over his face like that, Eichi's hand twitches behind his back. It's a little terrifying, feeling a pull like he's some sort of puppet on a string, the image of a mirror just past Wataru showing him what it might look like if he were to raise that glass shard and bring it down right at his neck—

The noise he makes is more like a breath, unclear and a little off, and all he can do is continue to resist the... urge? It's not even an urge, is it? Everything is screaming for him to stop, but it's getting harder to.]

I'd rather you didn't test your luck. [God, that's the closest thing he can get out as far as a warning, isn't it? His words won't come any closer to it, no matter how he tries, and he's growing increasingly nervous about it. He can't even seem to say "I want to leave now."]

At the very least, please take a safe path away from these glass shards. I'd hate for you to be hurt.

Eh? Are you worried? Has your fool here ever performed so badly before you that he's hurt himself?

[ He's still joking, but... very well, he won't do what he was planning on doing—blindfolding himself with his hair and walking on his hands to him—and simply plays the floor is lava by stepping between the pieces he can see. He even picks up the rainbow light again and brings it with him.

Presumably, mirrored glass can't puncture the soles of his shoes without some effort, so he even steps lightly, carefully. ]

But just for today, I will be good and do as you say.

[ See! He was careful! And now he is much closer, just a little over an arm's length away. ]

You're no fool, Wataru.

[There's a pause after that, as he watches him move closer, those silly panel lights in his arms. Whatever this presence is is overwhelmingly violent, with the actions it wants him to take, but in such a subtle way that he almost wishes he could just leap out and try for him from the front. But no. His right hand moves from behind his back to gesture out, indicating that Wataru should walk first now, and his left clenches tighter at the glass. He only squeezes tighter in his worry, but in that pause, there was realization.]

You're no fool... [Repeated, like he's testing something, and... Well, it seems that riddles and the like aren't ruled out. But can he really communicate enough while dealing with this? If Wataru steps forward, he's really going to stab him in the back. He can feel his muscles tensing, preparing for the chance. His heart is beating faster.]

After all, you always seem to understand everything about me, down to the last inch. Isn't that true?

[ That's... well, this is Eichi, and this is Eichi talking to Wataru, so the question isn't that weird most of the time. They could probably be fixing their hair and Eichi would begin contemplating the meaning of life thanks to it.

But there is a moment where he does think it's a little off, just due to the nature of him joking to begin with. Well... he's not sure. Maybe it's not that something is off, but rather... ]

Is there something on your mind, Eichi?

[ That's probably it, he thinks. He's stepped up beside him now, though he's simply turned to face him. ]

[That's it. There's a chance to prevent this, right? If Wataru knows he's acting strange, then he may be able to avoid hurting him. His heart rate is increasing, too— maybe even the Eichi-kun gauge can be a benefit.]

That's precisely what I mean.

[His hand hurts, holding this glass, and somehow his hand still tightens around it. But his other arm is moving against his will, as well, resting against Wataru's shoulder. No— wait, no, this isn't right either...!]

There are a lot of mirrors here, aren't there? [Please see]

[ There... are. That's pretty obvious. It's been like this since they went in, however, so he's pretty sure Eichi didn't just notice them. ]

Mm, there are. It's slightly out of place, but I have been wondering if they were placed together for storage. I suppose a store like this could carry mirrors, but this is certainly a surplus of them. [ But if something's on his mind, it's probably not like this... hm. ] Did you see something strange, Eichi? There are many sayings about mirrors, but I happen to like the one that says mirrors are just there to show us our faces, rather than what's in our souls. It then implies that our artwork is what truly shows us what lies inside.

[ He's half-turning, looking to the side to peer into a mirror across from them, as if to make a point. ]

Wataru—

[No, that's not what he needed him to see. Eichi tries to reach for him, stretching out his left arm as well, and he's surprised to find that the gesture works. But his body moves too far, his weight goes with him, and he falls limp towards Wataru, still holding the glass shard.

He understands immediately. This reflection— it wants him to be caught. His arms move a little with it, aiming to wrap around Wataru, to get that position.]

I can't... [He can't explain any of it...]

[ Oh, oh that's a very large burst of alarm there. ]

—Eichi?

[ There is no hesitation whatsoever on Wataru's end; he's already reaching out in return for him, one arm slipping beneath Eichi's shoulder and the other towards his face, trying to brush his hair out of the way so he can see him better. ]

Are you alright? What's wrong?

[ There's very little flair in his simple question—it's what happens when he's genuinely concerned. Has he been missing something? Was he doing worse than he thought? Just a minute ago he seemed as normal as ever and if he was getting sick, he feels like he'd be able to notice that?

But he implied there's something, so he's trying to find the answer in his face. Silently, he's thinking whatever it is, you can tell your Wataru about it, can't you? ]

No, I'm...

[His Eichi-kun gauge hasn't gone off yet— but now it beeps, alerting his high heart rate as his hand clenches around the mirrored glass. Like this, even if his body shakes slightly from the resistance, it's all too easy to see himself in the reflection, lifting that arm and then jamming it back, towards where his neck and shoulder meet, the easiest spot he can reach.

He can't even explain himself. He's panicking, and his expression shows it, but the fingers of his right hand curl tighter into Wataru's back to try and keep him in place.]

[ There's... an endless amount of possibilities running through his mind. He's sick, or at least suddenly sick, sicker than usual. He's suddenly stressed out about something. Was it something in the mall? Has the weight of this situation finally started to settle in? Would it have this effect on Eichi by itself?

The way Wataru is holding him Eichi can probably feel his own heartbeat betraying the expression he's trying to relax. ]

Then... I'll take you out of here for now.

[ He's still trying to figure out what the cause is. Did he see something in the mirrors? That's what they were talking about, right? It must be related. He pushes back his bangs, subtly checking for a fever as he runs his fingers over his face. ]

Try to take a deep breath, hm?

[He does breathe, but as he breathes, the way he's gripping the glass shard is so intense that it cuts his own skin as well, and there's the faint drip of that down onto Wataru's neck.]

I'm breathing.

[He presses, against his will, to drive the glass against the skin below that lovely ponytail. He wants to lurch back, to pull away, but he only holds him closer, aiming to harm, to dig as deeply as he can and twist it like a knife.]

You know me quite well, don't you, Wataru? [This isn't what I want...!] I can always count on you. You always have the right idea.

[They need to leave. But... He jerks his hand, too, to cut across cloth, or skin, or whatever he can to continue harming him.]

Edited 2020-07-16 04:48 (UTC)

[ Needless to say, it's not what he expected.

For a moment, the only change is that his grip around Eichi grows looser, where he's close to dropping him. There's pain, but he doesn't necessarily feel it, presumably out of shock. It's... not possible that something's just fallen on him. He can't excuse it away with something like that—for some reason, Eichi's stabbed him. ]

Eichi—

[ The stab was one thing, but the cut is almost worse. It allows the larger injury to open up and seep blood down the back of his neck and tears at his skin. The pain is searing and Wataru is certain that few things in his life have hurt so bad.

...but there were a few things that have. One of the things happens to be in his arms still. Isn't it ironic? Eichi has been the cause of worse pain than this already. It's kind of a memory he doesn't consider much nowadays, but it turns his expression from blank surprise to... painfully amused.

The hand at Eichi's face is snapping up quickly, aiming to grab the wrist holding the... shard? It must be one of the pieces laying around. He's trying to keep eye contact while he does it, though. ]

...I see.

[ What Eichi's saying is what one would consider the opposite of what he's doing. He has to try to remember that. ]

[The irony isn't lost on Eichi. His wrist is grabbed, but it struggles painfully against him to try and force the bloody shard back down. He's never felt so grateful for being frail.

He wonders what Wataru might be thinking past that quiet "I see" but it pains him even more than the physical feeling of forcing past his skin did. His heart sinks, and the memories of Wataru calling them family feel like a stab to his own chest. His vision goes a little blurry, as tears are the only thing that can fully express what he's really feeling right now. His mouth keeps opening, but he seems to be struggling to speak.

But physically, he has near no control left. His other hand moves, tries to grab for Wataru's throat, and as Eichi glances away in a panic, he still can make direct eye contact with himself in the mirror, even if that him is smiling far too proudly.]

Wataru... [His name can come through, at least, and he struggles for another moment before coming up with more.] Do you recall Hamlet? How about Ophelia?

[Of course he does. And it's a bit of a stretch, trying to get him to think about what he's trying to say here, but if there's anything, it must be a play. Right? What's real versus what's fake, whether he's attacking or a victim, what's causing this madness— the fact that it is something of a madness, out of his control— any of it would do.

"I see" isn't enough. He's hurting, desperate to make sure Wataru knows. I swore I'd never hurt you again.]

[ He can probably catch the edges of Wataru's hand with the shard, but it's just small scratches at best from this angle. For now. He still has to move him, and if he's intent on hurting him more, well. He'll deal with that in a moment.

The mark on his neck isn't something he can ignore, but he has to. Eichi's talking Hamlet to him and... there are many themes in Hamlet, and even Ophelia has shared traits and tropes that he could try to apply to the situation to make sense. ]

Asking me such a thing... [ Losing a mind. His? Eichi's? That's the closest thing to a puzzle piece he can fit in right here. He pauses, and when he continues, his voice is soft and bordering on fond, despite what he actually says. ] If you really wanted to hurt me, aren't there better ways to do it? Isn't this quite messy? You, of all people, should know where my real weak points are.

[ Maybe that's meant to be comforting. Maybe it's because he was just stabbed and doesn't really know how to feel about it. It hurts, physically and... even though he knows there's an underlying message here, it hurts even to think about.

But it's time to go. Out of here, around more weapons. It's unfortunate that he can't be as gentle as he'd like to, but Wataru is now taking a step back, pulling Eichi with him. By now, blood has started to roll down the front of his neck, under his collar. ]

Being stabbed in the back... it's not a situation that I would normally dislike, but were we not having fun before?

[ Talking. Talking helps. Even if it's nonsense. ]

...

[ How painful. Wataru is the one who’s bleeding, but Eichi feels like he’s the one who’s been stabbed. Just like before, by his own hand, he’s caused pain for everyone. Even as he’s pulled, his body fights it in every way that he can. Yanking, pushing, squeezing, stabbing— he’s got tears in his eyes, struggling to rush and think through the plays, through what he could use, but the wrong message is being grasped here!! ]

I am not Hamlet. Though it may seem so, to you especially... Is Hamlet mad? Are these answers given so simply? Just looking at you now, I feel as though I’ll sooner turn to Ophelia and fall into the water.

[ God this is so hard, he can’t even communicate normally, so this isn’t far off what he does anyway but there’s added pressure? His foot swings out to try to knock over another mirror, and the further they get towards the entrance, the more violent he grows, more desperate to stay inside than hurt him after a point. ]

You taught me that “family” could have a pleasant and warm meaning. [ He coughs, his reflection forcing him to push himself more than he would normally. He’s really thrashing to get away... ]

I'd much rather you didn't, Eichi.

[ Hmm... it really is a little frustrating, only having Shakespeare thrown back at him... why does that feel so familiar, hm?

It must look ridiculous, Wataru taking careful, pained steps backwards while dragging someone who's doing a lot of kicking and very little screaming—he supposes that's a hint, really.

But he believes him. Really, as afraid as he is of being abandoned, Wataru imagines Eichi wouldn't do it quite like this. It would be far more showy, probably. That small realization has him pausing, watching him. ]

Applying the word 'family' to a bond like that means it's quite important to someone. In that sense, because I did that, I wish for those feelings to be present at all times. [ Now he's about to hurt himself, too, but he's told Eichi the "funny story" so it should be fine, right. ] If I taught you such a thing, then it was my parents that taught me that a family member is someone you would like to hold onto forever.

[ Pointedly, he's trying to grab Eichi's other hand now. ]

...Even if I never expected you to hold on, and even wished that for your own sake, you’d walk away, despite my selfishness... You snuggled up close, didn’t you?

[ Eichi tries to keep this hand away, but he can’t dodge it for long, and as he’s grasped he gasps slightly at the pain from his other hand, the one bleeding. Mixing with Wataru’s blood. ]

They are present... even now. [ His stupid gauge has been beeping so long that it times out and stops, and his next attempt is pulling his entire body back, trying to retreat— somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s making note of how capable Wataru is of pulling him along. Please, he’s so close, he’s doing so well... ]

No matter what. Do you understand?

[ His eyes are burning, his palm stings, his whole body aches and every pump of his heart throbs painfully. But none of that must be close to the pain of Wataru’s deep cut. All of them, physical or not. Eichi still struggles to understand how they can be looked past.

But maybe he doesn’t have to understand. ]

Family... doesn’t hurt each other, right?

[ ...Wataru thinks he gets it. Or at least, the gist of it. Does he know why Eichi can't just say whatever it is that he wants to say? No. But it doesn't matter for now. The pain is in neck is sharp and spreading, though at the same time it feels itchy and strange—for a stab wound, that is. But there's no time to look, even if there's enough mirrors for it.

He'll have to assume that he's got limited time—his spine was close to where he got him, maybe that's the cause?—and doubly so, considering Eichi's condition. Not only is he trying to harm Wataru, he's hurting himself at the same time. ]

...of course I understand. [ Do words help? It doesn't seem like it. The only hint he has is the mirrors, and breaking all of them would... not work. There's too many, he'd have to let go (absolutely not happening) and that would take too long. ] Ah, Eichi, this is quite the predicament. You'll forgive me for treating you so roughly later, won't you?

[ He doesn't feel confident that he can safely knock him out, and dragging him is too slow. At this rate, Eichi will end up hurting himself worse than he's hurt Wataru, and that is...

No. Not thinking about that. He has an idea, but it's a pretty terrible one, even Wataru thinks so. He takes a breath, and then sharply yanks Eichi close, against his chest. He stretches his arms out so that he can get close to his face, his voice dropping to something hardly any louder than a whisper. He wants to comfort him, to tell him to relax and that it's alright, he gets it now, and appreciates the theatre lingo in order to make it work—but he doesn't want to give him too much information just yet, either. ]

I must be cruel only to be kind; [ He's so close now that any sudden movements would have him bumping their foreheads. ] thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.

[ Well, it's Eichi's fault that he's talking in Hamlet now, but that's the only warning he gives before abruptly ruining the romantic moment by trying to throw Eichi over his shoulder entirely. It means he has to let go of their bloodied hand and Eichi's free to resume stabbing at his back if he goes up, but in Wataru's defense, it's now much easier to move him. ]

[This is... He doesn't know what to expect, at first. He's pulled close, and his mind is at a complete stop, breath held, eyes wider than usual, focusing on Wataru's motions and his words. He stares at Wataru's eyes as he speaks, desperate to make a connection there, to show that he's still Eichi, that his actions don't match.

But then he's lifted so suddenly, so smoothly, that he can't help but gasp, and he's still trying to register what's happening while his left hand grips the shard tighter and does stab at Wataru's back again. It's lower, this time, and doesn't pierce quite as deep.

Before it can slash across in a cut, though, Eichi shakes, resisting as much as he can. He understands, Wataru is handling him roughly in order to get them out of here. He's said something like this before already, but Wataru is someone who Eichi would allow to treat him as horribly as he wanted. It's only fair. It only makes sense.

He doesn't want to hurt him anymore. He's making strained noises of resistance, but that's the most he can muster, focusing all of his energy on trying to not stab Wataru. But the mirrors seem to work stronger the closer they get to the exit, and it doesn't completely stop him. He's hurting the both of them like this. More, little by little...]

[ They're off. Through the aisle they were in, out into the center and straight towards the entrance of the store. It's not more than forty feet, give or take, but during a crisis it feels like a mile away.

Each cut into his back only spurs him on, rather than slows him down. He can hear Eichi struggling, and he wants to stop and put him down, to tell him that it's fine, a body is just a vessel for what's inside, but he has to keep going.

Around the center table, stacked with small mirrors at various angles; even he can see that they're leaving a thin trail of blood along the floor now. Is it his? Probably. He's certain that some is form Eichi now, too—truly, they are together in this.

Then it's the counters, where the cashier would have stood once. For a second he regrets not grabbing that light again.

Finally, it's the main hallway of the mall; does he know if this is enough to fix whatever was done? He doesn't. The mirrors can still see them, though their reflections are small and pieced together across several of them now. ]

[ Shortly before they pass the entrance, Eichi forces his hand open enough that the shard clatters to the ground. He gasps out at the sting of it, and then has to fight not to claw at Wataru’s wounds. He has to work to tear his eyes away from the mirrors, but it doesn’t stop them from being in sight of them.

He’s not sure if leaving is enough either. So, eyes focused on the blood he’s created all over his idol’s back, he speaks again: ]

Back to our store.

[ He can say that much it seems. Don’t stop. ]

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