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The air in the room of Prisoner 09’s cell was cold. It always felt cold and the inhabitant wasn't ever sure how to get rid of it. His hands shook, fingertips frozen from anxiety and withdrawal and the ever impending doom that things probably weren't going to get better. It almost felt like a prophecy; a sort of waiting fate before the words “forgiven” would shine on him to give him some hope when it felt far too late to take back all of the suffering that he went through.
So, how did it feel to be labeled as a liar? To have voices running through your head telling you that you were at fault for something you never even knew had happened in the first place.
“It's a bit painful, but it's okay,” Mikoto would say, and then laugh to himself. It's just as he always does whenever there was something that challenged his mentality and well being strongly. Smile, laugh, and repeat until it's all better again. Every adult does that, right? Because they're the strong ones who know more about life, and they hide their pains in bad habits their parents never decided to check out.
“You killed him so gruesomely. How could you do that, Mikoto?” A grinding voice in his head would speak.
He didn't know how to answer. He didn't do it.
“Why did you do it? Don't you feel bad?”
Of course he feels bad if he's told to. If he didn't, it'd make him indecent if he really did do it now. He didn't do it though.
Each and every thought deteriorated at him. They caused his head to ache more and more and he felt like every fiber of his own being was being lost in the words that echoed through his mind. He didn't want those voices, but the one person he did want to answer never spoke. He kept to himself from Mikoto's perspective, and it left too many questions for him to think about.
The prisoner curls up into a ball on his bed, hugging himself. The company of his hands was like salt on his internal wounds. There's no peace found in just feeling how you're freezing to death as a person you never wanted to be. He thinks that if he gets smaller and smaller… If he continues to curl up until he’s nothing then this truly could all be a dream. If he becomes nothing at all, then he’ll be free. Smaller… Smaller…
Instead, he felt lighter and he couldn't feel the crushing darkness anymore. He opens his eyes. Silvery blue eyes reflect back in a body of water, and Mikoto is able to clearly see what he is wearing now. It was no longer the torn up prisoner outfit that MILGRAM put him in, but one of the outfits he usually put together to make himself presentable at work. Brown jacket, white tee with “The Hanged Man” tarot card on it, some sweatpants, and a pair of boots he usually wore everywhere. Though, if one thing did make it obvious he was still the same person, it was those dreaded eye bags under his eyes, still not covered up by that small nap he reserved for the train rides to work when he was too tired to bike the entire way. They were also red with tears, but that part is much less noticeable in the water.
“Huh…?" He mumbles the words out as he stares at himself in the water. When he finally gets up, he watches the water splash underneath him, but his clothes don't get wet. This was definitely a dream. He was convinced in his entirety. Looking around, it was more similar to some ruined bathroom with a random mirror on the wall and a couch with a table in front of it. There's a deck of tarot cards sitting on the table. Mikoto gets a weird sense of deja vu, like he's seen this before. He stares into the mirror for a moment, just looking back at himself as if he was expecting his reflection to move. It doesn't, and he backs off, gazing up at the sky.
“What am I doing here? I… Don't know anything anymore, do I?” He questions into the nothingness. As if it was responding, a green haze takes over the sky, mixing with the normal blue. Suddenly, he hears a voice.
“Mikoto - ?” It's similar to his own, but it's monotonous and almost melancholy in some way. He flicks his gaze over to meet where he heard the voice. Right on the couch placed in the middle of this dreamscape, there's a guy that sits there. His eyes are a dull green, like the shade that covered the sky a few moments ago, which had now faded into a deep teal. His hair was long, with both brunette and blonde streaks tied into a small ponytail. His ears also carried a few piercings, and his fashion was something more fit for sleep wear than regular wear Mikoto determines.
“Huh? Who are you?” The host raises a finger, pointing to the new individual.
“I don't have a name, I don't need one.” The other’s finger works its way through a lock of hair. “All you need to know is that I'm here.”
Mikoto pauses, examining the other. He’s trying to tap into his usual power to read the room in order to figure out how best to answer him, but he can’t find anything that’s traceable on this guy.
“Don’t worry yourself about that,” It was like he just read his mind before he was finished processing that he wasn't actually able to read him. Green eyes bore into his soul in a way that intimidated Mikoto because he couldn’t see what was behind them. They were a mystery he wanted to solve more than anything right now. This whole thing was honestly making him forget why he was crying those minutes ago, plus with how comforting his voice was.
“Here, sit down,” The figure gestures to a seat next to him on the couch. Mikoto takes in a deep breath and obliges his request, sitting down next to him.
After a bit of silence, he speaks up. “So, can I come up with a name for you?”
“You want to give me a name?” The other mumbles.
“Yeah.”
“You hardly know me though. Guess that's what to expect of you. You've always been like this.” He sighs.
“Always been like this...? I guess you're right. Hmm, maybe Miou because of your green eyes… And the way we're here in a sort of ocean like place. Or maybe Akiharu?” Mikoto begins listing off some names, all the while the other stayed quiet.
“... You know, you'll forget about this, Mikoto. So, it doesn't really matter what name you do give me.”
“Eh?” His words come to a halt, his head tilting as he stares in a confused manner.
“You'll forget about this too,” The nameless restates what he said. “When you go back, you'll have the peace of not knowing again, just like you always have.” A small smile rests on his face like it was supposed to be something that brought Mikoto comfort.
“But… I want to know.” Mikoto hesitantly grabs onto the other's hand. “I may not understand what's going on, but I want to. Tell me about you , about everything. I'll try my best to remember!” He exclaims, obviously determined.
The nameless glances towards their intertwined hands and pulls Mikoto towards him like a tide pulling in shells that rested at the shore of a beach. “Sure. I'll tell you if it's really what you want to hear.” He replies.
“Ah!” Blue eyes lighten up like a sky that suddenly saw the sun, glimmering in its light. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you!”
He blushes softly seeing a true smile come from the one he's known to mask it so much. He hasn't seen it in a long time. It was special.
“Well…” He clears his throat, trying to brush away the pink tint of his cheeks. “I guess… You could call me Miou. That name you recommended. And I was born long before the one you call the “other you”.”
“Miou it is then. And… The other me. I think I know who you’re talking about.”
“Yes, the one who was born from your stress. His job is to protect you - or… Well, he was supposed to do that, considering how you ended up.” Miou sighs. “My job is to help keep away all of the memories of your past that are considered traumatic from you. I won’t go into detail about any of it, but just know I’ve been with you for most of your life.”
“So, you're something like a childhood friend I never knew is what I'm going to go with. Was the other one always there?” Mikoto slowly realizes that this means he's never had full control over his own body, the way he thinks, the way he talks, and not even what he remembers. It's a somber thought, and something so so terrifying at the same time.
“Whatever helps you come to terms with this best,” Miou brushes his thumb along Mikoto’s hand, glancing away from the other while he does his best to silently comfort him. He knows exactly what he feels. “You can see me however you'd like. I don't entirely care. And… John’s really recent. He developed because of your working habits.”
“Ah… So it really is my fault -”
“No,” He cuts him off swiftly. “Don't say that.”
“But -”
“I know you're worried. You carry enough burdens, even without the ones I try to relieve from you. Just trust me, it's not your fault.”
Mikoto pauses, lips quivering. Is it really okay saying he doesn't think so? Miou probably has his own problems too, having to deal with all of those memories of him stressing out and among other things he can't remember. At least now he can't feel the pounding of his head, but he feels tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to pour down and become one with the couch and the ocean blue right in below them.
Miou reaches out with his free hand, cupping the host’s face and wiping his tears away. He wants to hold him until the sun rises again; he wants to hold him with each and every second he has until Mikoto is truly happy again; he wants to be there each step of the way like he always has. And honestly, a part of him doesn't want to hide in the shadows more if it was true he was willing to accept everything about the circumstances they were in. They just needed time to be able to talk more, that's all they needed. “It's alright, Mikoto. Cry it all out. It's healthy for you. I'm here to wipe away and cover up all your worries so you can shine bright once more, my sun.”
“Your… Sun?” He manages out with a sniffle.
“Yes. Because you're the thing that lights up my entire life.” He gives a nod, letting go of his hand now and using that one to cup his face too. He leans in, planting a soft kiss on Mikoto's forehead. It's only what he feels best will comfort him, knowing that he hasn't been held like this in what was almost forever.
The prisoner melts into the other’s touch, tears streaming down his face. “Th - Then," His voice stammers, but he manages to smile. “You can be my ocean. A deep sea of mystery with so much life inside, something I haven't explored yet. As your sun, I'll make sure the waters always glimmer, even if I can't control what happens, I'll do my best to make sure you're happy.”
The blush on his face worsens. Miou knows that Mikoto’s always been good with his words, but he's only seen them directed in situations where it best benefits himself to be kind, where he always appealed to those around him for that sense of validation he got from it. This, however, was genuine. He could tell because he's known him longer than Mikoto’s known himself. It's not his job to get emotional, and it never has. He knows he shouldn't because this will eventually become a lost memory that only the ocean kept, the sun becoming unaware how it’s destroying itself again until it eventually falls apart. As someone with control over that, he realizes this memory is something important to the both of them, so maybe… He'll let him keep it.
“I love you.” It's all he has it in him to reply with. The smile on his face softens.
“Eh?" Mikoto’s expression widens in shock, tears stagnant in his eyes. “You really mean that?” He asks in a small whisper.
Since when was the last time he heard those words?
They were hardly exchanged with his family anymore because he never saw them anymore. And even when his Mother called, no I love yous left their lips, just only talk about how Mikoto was swamped with work and that next time he gets a chance, he'll definitely come home.
Miou gives a small nod, slowly losing all words he had and just reserving to showing how he felt with his actions. He wipes away another tear, reaching his hand to the back of Mikoto’s head to pull him closer. The prisoner then leans his head against the other’s chest, causing the other to move his other hand as well.
“Just rest,” He whispers. “You deserve it. I'll make sure nothing bad happens. You're safe in my arms. Once you escape from here and wake up, I'll make sure this safety lasts.”
“But, I don't want to forget you. Not now. Not when I've gotten to know you.” Mikoto shakes his head. His voice is a bit groggy, tired from days without rest.
“... You won't. I've - changed my mind.”
He relaxes hearing that, quickly falling asleep in the other’s arms. When he wakes up, the warmth fades away and he's no longer curled up. He moves to sit up in his bed and recognizes his arms are wrapped around himself and the tears that streamed down his face earlier were real. Slowly, he smiles to himself, and he lets go to connect his hands together. He imagines he's holding his hand, and he wonders how this really works; if he's even doing it right.
“I love you too, Miou.”
He says it with a smile, the sound of the waves ringing in his ears.