ONE MUST IMAGINE SISYPHUS HAPPY CRACKED

They’re as far away from each other as physically possible. Morgana’s next to him, elbow perched on Ren’s shoulder. Yusuke looks serenely at the camera, unaware that Futaba is giving him bunny ears with her index and pointer fingers. Shiho’s hands are around Ann’s waist, laughing soundlessly into her shoulder. Ryuji and Ann have twin peace signs up in the air. Haru’s head is nestled in the crook of Makoto’s neck. You wanted this.Īkechi takes the picture. Every move Akechi makes only serves to remind him how practiced and plastic this cell they’re all living in is. He can forget that none of this is real-except it is real, now, it’s the only real thing-but never with Akechi. With all the others, he can sometimes forget. He conquers the sun, but cowers in the face of Goro Akechi. “Oh, I don’t mind!” Akechi smiles blindingly.

He has to admit it’s a much louder voice. It’s good that they’re getting along, the other part soothes, you always wanted them to get along.

ONE MUST IMAGINE SISYPHUS HAPPY CRACKED

It’s a shock to his system-since when do any of them call him Goro?, a part of himself screams, the one weighed down by guilt, the one cracked open with woe. “Goro’s been holding that camera up for, like, five minutes.” “Can you two get in the picture, please? We don’t have all day here!” Ann pops up behind them, grabbing them by the nape of their necks and maneuvering them back towards the group. None of them ever have to actually listen to each other. He could say this to Ryuji, and Ryuji wouldn’t bat an eye. Part of him wishes the sun above was capable of blinding him another part of him tells that part to relax, that this is good, and that he wanted it. Ren thinks he can do anything, now, and there wouldn’t be any consequences. “Man, don’t stare directly at that shit! You’ll go blind.” Ryuji swings an arm around his shoulder, shifting his weight so that Ren faces down instead. Ren Amamiya looks at it directly, hand raised to shield his eyes, out of practice and comfort instead of true necessity. The sky above them is an unending blue, not smudged by any sort of cloud, unmarred by any imperfection-the sun itself glows more than burns.

One must imagine sisyphus happy