darkinferno | [ic inbox]

what are you talking about dante? who died? how could you lose everything? i doubt it was your fault.

[He's not making sense. It's hard to make sense right now, when everything's just jumbling together into one mangled pile of no.]

toushiro

hes okay now but whne we were in hell manor therew as a room and we had to play a game

i tried to lsoe but i fucked up and he got killed and wound up being a ghost unt il we got bakc

and i lost everything, i couldnt use my sword and i could nt jump or do anything to fight the wraith

thats how he died

[Sorry, Grell, you're apparently the lucky winner of today's "Who Gets to See Dante Fall Apart?" game.]

[she takes a moment before she starts responding.]

it's not your fault, dante. you couldn't have controlled that. you didn't know that was going to happen - and i know you, that even without your sword or your jumps you would have done everything you could have.

he wouldn't blame you, i'm sure. you didn't do anything wrong for that.

[There's a moment before Dante's response too; when he reads her words he has to stop, draping an arm over his eyes because she doesn't understand, it is his fault, if he hadn't...

If he hadn't...]

no it WAs my fault we knew, there rwere these blades hanging over us and hed said at the startt here could only be one

it shouldce bene me

why?

do you think you're worth less than him?

that you're not equally worthy of being saved?

[The fact that it takes so long for her to get an answer probably speaks volumes.]

i dont thnk you awnt me to answer that

i want to read it, or i'm coming over and finding you tomorrow to get the answer from your lips. your choice, because i'm as stubborn as you are.

[Oh no. She's going to actually make him write it out... Dante squeezes his eyes shut, but he'll force himself to do it. Better that than trying to say it aloud if she does come over to try and make him admit to things.]

because
nobody woudlve cared fi it were me

sure mayeb ther are a few people that d care but msot of them woudlve said whatever and mvoed on
not like him
hes still a kid
nto a fuckupl ike me
ryoji too
it woudlve been better if ti was me

[she reads the words, and there's a long pause before she replies. there's only one thing to do.]

where are you?
i promise i won't force you to talk about it
but tell me where you are

at home

[He's not exactly big on giving out his address, but he knows that if he doesn't, Grell's liable to get the information somehow. Whether that's from Prompto or Ardyn or Togusa, or even by sneaking a look at his file at the police station... she'll find a way.

So here u go Grell, here's his address, an upscale apartment building in Birch Hills.]

[there's not a response after, only Grell making her way over and double checking the address to make sure she's driving the right direction. so it shouldn't be too surprising that she shows up after a while, that there's a knock on his apartment door. no comment on where he lives, she remembers how he was months ago, how he moved around the crowd with ease.

but he's hurting, and she can't do much but listen, but she can do that.]

[Through the magic of a coin flip, Dante's already had Ardyn come and go by this point, so when he gets up to open the door for Grell, it's with a little bit more ease of motion than he'd had before. Still, his current physical state seems to match his mental state: he's wearing dark grey pajama pants and the lightest t-shirt he could find, and there are dark circles beneath his eyes.]

Hey.

[He doesn't meet her eyes right away, stepping out of the way so she can come in if she wants. The living room is fairly normal, aside from a baby grand at the far end of the room next to the large windows (but considering Dante's father's career, that's maybe not so surprising). There's a cream-colored chaise sofa that Dante's been sleeping on, a pillow at one end and a large blanket thrown over the back of the couch, hanging and pooling on the floor behind it, and a stack of throw pillows in one of the other chairs. On the coffee table, amongst other things, are a couple cups, ibuprofen, NyQuil, a bottle of whiskey that's a quarter full, and some first aid supplies like rubbing alcohol and bandages. Finally, next to the door if Grell happens to look down are the clothes he'd shown back up in the city wearing, stripped off as soon as he'd gotten home. Mm, dust, must, and blood!

Look, he's a mess, what else did you expect.]

[what she does is not come in all the way, looking at him and how he doesn't look at her. Dante's an utter mess, and she wouldn't expect him to be otherwise, not after what he was confessing. so instead of coming in and trying to make herself comfortable, she steps forward and pulls him into a hug, not tight enough to hurt, but most certainly secure.

she'd care, she thinks. she'd care enough to make her heart break. she cares enough that it hurts now, and Dante she thinks is too hard on himself. whatever he's heard - because all of this doesn't come from the void whole cloth - it doesn't matter. he's here, and it wouldn't be better. no one should have died, have felt that pain. that they did, they couldn't help. all they can do is figure out how to reshape themselves around it. and if Dante needs something to hold onto - physically, emotionally, she doesn't mind being there.]

[Grell is one of the few that he thinks might have cared--her, Ardyn, Prompto, Togusa, and Ari. Everyone else... maybe they would have stopped for a moment, but they would've gotten over it in a few minutes, if it even took that long. Even his parents; they would go through all the motions, but Dante can't really bring himself to wonder if they'd really miss him. It's not a question he wants to know the answer to.

At any rate, he isn't expecting to be pulled into a hug, and there's a sharp breath that escapes him when he is. For a moment he stands tense in her grasp... but then his arms are coming up to almost cling to her, all the tension draining out of his body as he just lets himself be held, his head dropping slowly to her shoulder.

It's a boundary that hasn't been crossed since Ari left, almost a full month ago by this point, and Dante's been trying to hold himself together through sheer willpower as the weeks have gone on. If it were only that, he might have been fine, but the memories and everything they've been through in the past few weeks have rolled all together into a series of nightmares, memories that have twined together in his subconscious in such a way that when he wakes up he can't be sure what's real and what's not--whether he'd been in control of his own body when Toushiro had been killed, if he'd made a genuine mistake or if that presence had been controlling him, using him to attack and try to kill his friends the way it had used him to attack Sora in those memories. Are the bonds he fought against really the sheets of the beds, come to life and binding him tight to the headboard so he couldn't escape, or were they the bonds of that other presence, locking him inside his own body and making it so he couldn't do anything no matter how he threw himself against them?

She isn't Ari and he wouldn't want her to be, but Grell is here and wrapping him in her arms, there and real and warm and Dante chokes on a sob that threatens to escape him, his entire body shuddering.

Just... give him a moment.]

It's okay. Breathe.

[words that are gentle enough to be suggestions, reassurances. whatever's been boiling over in his head, it's okay to let it out. she won't tell - here, in his own apartment, he's entitled to his secrets. here, being held, it's alright to not be okay.

(later, days later, she will find herself forgetting this. but for now...)

the month had worn on them all, scraped at edges like persistent sandpaper until there were wounds that were raw if not bleeding. now, now is the time to recover. to feel the pain and let it happen. they don't have to be strong for others' sake right now, and that had been the biggest relief. so he can't hold himself together all the way. he's still so young, she thinks, and her heart twists to think he is already so convinced of so many things.]

[All he can do is nod, taking a moment and forcing himself to breathe in and out in a shuddering gasp. He wasn't expecting this, he wasn't expecting her to come over and greet him like this, and it feels overwhelmingly like something he should recognize that's yet entirely unfamiliar. The last time somebody held him like this...

Fuck. Dante doesn't fight it as his eyes start to burn. He'd never admit it aloud, but it feels like a touch he'd been missing for nearly his entire life, a touch he can't even remember because it's been so long. His body shakes, little trembles that sometimes strengthen enough to wrack his entire frame, but finally after a couple minutes, he'll shake his head and draw back a bit. There are no tears, not really, but they were close enough that he still wipes beneath one eye as casually as possible. Definitely not tearing up, not him. He would never.]

...sorry. I didn't mean to... unload on you like that.

[for his sake, she won't comment on it. she knows how to preserve pride and hide behind pretending something didn't happen.]

No apology necessary. Sometimes you need to let it out, before it rots inside you.

[she manages a small smile, pushing up her glasses with one hand.]

When's the last time you ate something solid?

[don't think she hasn't noticed the alcohol and the cups, but her lecture on underage drinking is firmly shelved in the wake of everything they've been through in the last few months.]

[Food? Food's honestly been the last thing on his mind today. Dante blinks, a little bit taken aback, but frowns as he casts his mind back. The last time he ate...]

Last night, after all the fighting was done. I got something to eat before trying to sleep.

[He should... probably do something about that, honestly.]

[she nods, and then steps fully inside.]

If you're alright with letting me poke around in your fridge, I can probably make you something.

[she offers as casually as someone else might hand over a lighter or suggest that they could give someone a ride. no pressure, no obligation. not bringing up anything he said over text.

[Still feeling somewhat off-balance, Dante will go ahead and close the door first before nodding.]

All... all right. Sure.

You don't have to, you know. I can do it.

[But... Grell probably knows that already, doesn't she? Dante won't protest any more than that, instead leading toward the kitchen. It's cleaner than the living room is, a single plate and utensils in the sink the only indication that he's been in there in the past month.

Look, he doesn't do much cooking, okay. He can do some stuff, he just would rather be out and about instead of in the kitchen cooking.]

Sure, you can, but I want to. Tell me what sort of things you like and I'll come up with something.

[this, she can work with. sure, she doesn't know where anything is, or if there's even something resembling a vegetable, but she'll discover. it was an impulsive suggestion that she's going to see through.]

I'm not really picky. Anything's fine by me.

[Not that that's helpful at all.]

I like spicy things--anything with flavor. Not really big on bland food.

[There's not much fresh in the refrigerator right now; after three weeks, most of the stuff he'd had in there had gone bad and been pitched. Still, the basics are there: milk, eggs, cheese and the like, and in the freezer there are frozen vegetables and basically do whatever you want with what's there and what's not, it's all good, it's about as well stocked as you'd expect for a kid that's been living on his own for a few years. Dante at least tries to avoid the "dude living on his own eating fast food for every meal" stereotype, even if he's not always successful.]

Hey, Grell...? What sort of things were you doing while we were gone? Were you okay?

[there's enough for her to come up with a plan, and she busies herself with getting a pan and a bowl, taking out ingredients that she knows will make something filling and good.

Dante asks, and she decides to be honest.]

I was exploring the subway with some others - Prompto among them, so I can confidently tell you that he didn't get too banged up. We explored, but mainly, we had to fight against all sorts of monsters that showed up. Including one that we had to blow up a little. Still, we found some curious things, and got to talk to a few people from Retrospec, actually. Once we established communications with them, we could work to undo everything falling apart around us.

[she talks and breaks eggs into a bowl, mixing them with milk and some other things until it's fully blended.]

Of course, in the process, we didn't all get out just fine, but I offered myself as medic for my team. And got supplies for other teams - I'm glad I was with mine, though, we seemed to just get into trouble.

[Dante's just going to kind of... loiter around his own kitchen, he guesses? He'll hop up and sit on one of the counters, watching Grell as she works, sliding off to grab something for her if need be but otherwise watching and listening to what she's saying.]

I'm glad someone was with Prompto, at least. He's worse than I am about getting into trouble.

[Or rather, his trouble is usually with other people. Prompto's trouble usually seems to be himself versus the world trying to kill him.]

It sounds like you guys were pretty busy.

Busy solving weird puzzles that didn't really amount to anything. There was this man named Ronnie, though...and when I checked my phone, I saw something interesting. You know they all have employee numbers?

[she knows she should tell the whole story in detail from the start, but these are all important.]

Oh! And I got attacked by a monster made of ice - that hurt quite a bit. I'm lucky that it didn't rupture anything, though I did lose a lot of blood. That wasn't a fun day.

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