The feeling of someone being inside his home almost feels invasive. Unnatural. His home hasn't been open to other people for a few years now and a part of Ayn wanted to either run or push the intruder out.

He would be lying if he said that he'd never once thought about how Morion - Mori - looked in real life. He'd imagined someone confident and easygoing but of course, he should know better.

The Mori sitting on the other end of the couch is unlike the Envoy of Darkness Morion in the world of World Symphony. There's no blade-wielding virtual character who wears all black and red, instead, there's a man with tense shoulders who wears glasses and wouldn't look Ayn in the eyes. He had the same shade of dark hair as his game character but it's kept short, the fringe coming down across his eyes and almost hiding his gray eyes from view.

You would've never guessed that this man is infamous in a virtual world. Though it shouldn't be much of a surprise since Ayn is the same.

The two of them sit at opposite ends of the couch, neither of them speaking. Ayn can feel the sense of awkwardness and the haze of discomfort. More than that, as the silence progresses, that wave of self-doubt and insecurity begins to build up even though he's trying not to let it. Each second that passes, it feels like all his bad qualities grow more noticeable. The bags under his eyes, the paleness of his complexion from the lack of sunlight, the sickly pallor of his face, the scars underneath sloppily applied bandages.

Would this man see those imperfections too the way Ayn does?

“How, um…” Ayn clears his throat, hearing how coarse and small his voice is. “Did you know…him?”

Mori blinks, his eyes gently flickering over to Ayn before swiftly pulling away as if it burns. The man fiddles with the corner of his glasses nervously. It takes a while for him to answer.

“I used to intern. He is - was - my supervisor at the time.”

“Oh.” Ayn ignores the burn in his chest and opts to look at his hands in his lap. He can feel how sweaty they are. The silence lasts for a few more seconds between them before Ayn laughs self-deprecatingly. “Then you should know how terrible I am.”

Ayn leans back in his seat, missing the way Mori’s expression twists into surprise. The man seems like he wants to protest but Ayn continues before he can.

“You know…the day he died. We were supposed to meet. I'd been ignoring him for more than half my life. I don't even remember the reason why I decided to agree this time.” Ayn inhales, his breathing shaky. “When he didn't show, I thought he was going back on his word. I cursed at him in my heart, wished we'd never meet again.”

It'd been the angriest he ever felt toward the man, perhaps even bordering on spite and maybe even hatred. He'd been so sure. So incredibly sure that after that he'll be able to move on, the man’s absence had been a confirmation of it being a big farce. He had no father. The visage of his caring touch in Ayn’s memory had been a distant illusion-like dream.

“Then I found out he died three days after that.” His nails dig into the crease of his fingers without even realizing, skin being pulled painfully yet the sting feels like nothing. “On his way to meet me, he died in the middle of the road. He was dying and I was spending those three days blaming him and cursing his existence.”

“He'd been sick for a long time. It's not-”

“It doesn't matter.” His fingernails hit blood, the stinging on his flesh familiar and almost welcomed. “He’s still dead. Whether he was sick or not, it doesn't change anything.”

Ayn looks at Mori now and although he can feel a sob bubbling in his throat, his eyes feel painfully dry. The other man flinches a little from the look in Ayn’s eyes. 

“I don't know why you're here. Whether or not my dead father asked you or you came of your own volition, you should go back. I'm not leaving this house and I'm not going back to World Symphony or any of those stupid and pointless games. It's not worth trying to do anything for me.”

A normal person. A sane person would’ve walked away in Ayn’s opinion. It isn’t worth it to try and salvage whatever’s left of him. When his father died, it felt like a part of him died too, drowned by the weight of his guilt and the reality of it all. The innocent part. The part that wants to live.

A warmth falls onto his hand, a gentle touch pulls Ayn’s fingers away from digging into his fragile skin. He freezes. Mori hasn’t looked at him the entire time but at this moment, his gaze is enough to make Ayn’s breath hitch in his throat.

“I…you’re right that I did come here because of what your father asked me to do, but it’s also true that I came here because I wanted to.” Mori’s fingers gently soothe the bleeding skin with care. More care than anyone’s ever given and it comes from someone he barely knows. “As strange as it is, I do consider you a friend. So I want to be here for you. I won’t force you to do anything else, I won’t even talk to you if you don’t want to, but…will you at least let me keep you company?”

Mori lets go but Ayn can still feel a ghost of his touch against his skin. The man’s lips curl into a small smile. It’s half forced but Ayn can feel the genuinity behind it. Has anyone ever smiled at him like that besides his father a long time ago?

“I…” Ayn shakes his head but his heart feels lighter somehow. “I think you’re being stupid. I’m not Ai. I’m…like this. I will get angry at you and hurt you in some way. I’m not someone who makes people happy so you might get tired of me anyway at the end of this. I exhaust people.”

“Good thing I love making stupid decisions.” Mori jokes lightly and Ayn wants to smack himself from snorting at the joke. 

It’s not funny, but it does feel good to laugh for the first time in months or maybe even years if he’s keeping track.

In some ways, it’s an odd feeling and maybe he should’ve been more wary of a person he’s seeing for the first time offering to do all of this. He wouldn’t be able to blame himself later if Mori turned out to be a serial killer or something like that. He hesitates in calling them strangers because is that completely true?

And maybe he is wrong about his instincts due to how unpolished and dull they are but in that moment, there’s only one thing that makes his heart feel at peace even for an incredibly short while. He wants to believe that that feeling is all he needs to let the other man in.

“...okay.”