aug. 2018 - archer/rin

[trainerlyra]

title: (untitled)

date written: aug 5th, 2018
notes: i think i initially wanted to expand upon this? probably, based on how choppy it is lol. this was using the prompt "i beg to be let out of my mouth". this style is much more akin to some of the stuff in the, like, 2008-2012 era of LJ/FFN works. i think i was feeling nostalgic lol. for as much as i absolutely adore rinarcher, i think this is the only time i've ever tried to write them? maybe i'll feel the need when f/sn is finally on my switch in english...

He woke up on a couch that he knew all too well. For a moment, he wanted to wake up again, back wherever he was supposed to be, he doesn’t quite remember—

That, of course, is when she burst into the room. It felt like dying all over again, watching her. For the first time since he died, he can breathe.

(She looks exactly the same as she exists in his memory: red, red everywhere. In her shirt, in her hair when it catches the light, with ice for eyes. She stands just as tall, just as proud; her hands on her hips betraying how young she is at that moment.

Nonetheless, Emiya can’t convince himself that it’s a different Rin. Rin is eternally the same — eternally etched into his memories, exactly like this.)

He’d known for a long time that he was cursed. This, he decided, takes the cake. What did he do to deserve this? Of all the things that he could’ve been made to do, of all the ways his afterlife could’ve easily played out. Somehow, he ended up as her servant in that godforsaken holy war. A war neither of them truly care about, not really.

How stupid.

(Secretly, Emiya is glad he gets to see her again. He barely registers that he could use this to his advantage, only making that realization when he meets his younger self in this time. He’s just glad to see someone he loves; see them in good health, happy.

As happy as Rin could get, at least. Anything is better than hell.)

With a sigh, Emiya told her that he doesn’t remember who she is. That he doesn’t know who he is, taking the chance to rile her up. It’s necessary, obviously, but it’s also pretty funny. This version of him is so unlike his younger self, he doubted that even someone as clever as Rin Tohsaka would put two and two together. This is not a knock on her, just a simple fact.

(As usual, he is wrong. He is always wrong about Rin Tohsaka.)

Claiming that she would get nothing from this war, that she is only participating to win, is so refreshingly her Emiya almost broke character. She is a Tohsaka, she told him, and that is what Tohsakas do. Emiya refused to believe her for a second, but he will go along with anyway.

She cannot know. He won’t let her know.

..

It’s one thing to think about the fact that he existed in this time already, as someone else. Actually seeing his younger self felt like he was punched in the gut. Hair still bright red, smile still naive. There were many things Archer Emiya hated in the world, especially the time period they were in now.

Shirou Emiya, delusional idealist, was absolutely top of the list.

Almost like an instinct, as soon as he’d laid eyes upon him, Archer Emiya wanted to tear his throat out with his bare hands. Maybe it wasn’t the best thing, that he was so intent on murdering himself, but witnesses be damned. He must never be allowed to make the mistakes that he had made.

..

He knows she’s figured it out, but he isn’t sure why she won’t say anything yet. The thought of her telling Shirou Emiya is, admittedly, anxiety inducing, but he knows he should have more faith in her than that.

..

Carrying her in his arms feels surreal, and not in the good way. Archer can’t understand why his heart continues to react like this, despite knowing this is not the same Rin he once knew, once maybe loved. His time for salvation and enjoyment is long gone, and all he has left for in his heart is to stop his younger self from making the same mistakes he once did. He has no time for silly romances with beautiful young girls, who hide their insecurities behind their anger. He has no time for tea parties and cooking and making girls feel less lonely in their own homes.

And yet, and yet. He continues to do these things anyway.

He knows why, but he won’t admit it to himself.

..

There is no way for this to end well.