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dadsbongos · 3 years

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Liebeskummer

Movie/Game/Show: Danganronpa: Killing Harmony Dynamic: Korekiyo Shinguji/Reader (and his sister shit but i actually take it seriously, unlike kodaka) Warnings: korekiyo’s backstory/trauma (his sister), sexual/physical/mental abuse implications (and outright said but not described in detail except the emotional and mental), anxiety in both kork and reader and mental breakdown(s?), airhead shit but it’s sad Summary: It’s all her fault. ~~~

Korekiyo suddenly turned to the girl beside him in his quiet research lab, “Have you ever heard of Jack of Fables, (Y/n)?” at her, albeit confused, nod, he continued, “Well, all those myths, fairy tales, and even nursery rhymes in reference to ‘Jack’ are actually about the same man. What this means is that Jack Be Nimble, of the candlestick, Jack the Giant Killer, who sold his cows then murdered and robbed a giant, Stingy Jack, who tricked the devil so relentlessly that he was banned from both afterlives, Jack of Jack and Jill, who cracked open his skull, Jack o’ Lantern, Spirit of Halloween and Headless Horseman, and Jack Frost, Spirit who ends autumn and begins winter are all one in the same. He made so many poor life decisions that he now serves as an immortal representation of winer with a pumpkin serving as head and flashlight. Is that not fascinating?”

“Aw,” (Y/n) grinned, nodding once again, “Like the American ‘Florida man’.”

Korekiyo sighed, disappointment palpable in his tone, “That is… actually much more accurate than I wish to admit.”

“Wait, wait,” she tilted her head, patting the man’s arm despite his attention already being on her, “So… like, was he also Jack the Ripper…?”

His eyes widened at her statement, “(Y/n), I must be grateful you were not born to the life of a woman of the night in Victorian London because I assure you, Jack the Ripper was incredibly real.”

“Oh, that’s so sad…” she pouted before clearing it back into her usual smile almost instantly, “Well, thanks for the folklore fun fact, Kiyo! I didn’t know that Jack was so dumb! God, I’d hate to be like him…”

“You do realize you’re not so bright yourself, yes?”

She shrugged, “I’m fine with that, but at least I’m not tricking the devil!”

So sweet and kind, the Ultimate Composer was. Against all expectations, she wasn’t highbrow or traditionally genius, but she was more than excellent company. And, to top it off, the idea of turning her into one of Sister’s friends was oddly… sickening.

It should’ve been perfectly fine - she was a deeply respectable young woman unlike Miu and Maki, there’s no reason he could have against her.

It just felt wrong.

“Oh! Oh!” she burst out, clapping her hands together, before turning and reaching into a bag slung around her hip. Rooting through scrapped sheet music and notes, once she found what she’d been searching for she held it up excitedly, “Boom!”

Korekiyo took the item, just barely brushing his wrapped fingertips against hers, “Cleopatra’s Pearl Cocktail… much appreciated,” he pressed the small bottle into a pocket on his uniform, “If you enjoy giving gifts, perhaps we can discuss cultural gift-giving practices?”

“Ooh, Kiyo’s gonna teach me?”

“Hmm,” Korekiyo hummed quietly to himself, “Well, perhaps… you would prefer I tell you of a composition piece in relevance to mythology, yes?”

“That’d be nice,” the girl giggled softly, rubbing the back of her neck, “To be honest, I just like when you talk… you sound so smart all the time!”

“My thanks, (Y/n),” he nodded curtly, muttering to himself before coming to speak up, “Alright, I believe that the composition for you would be The Ring of the Nibelung, of Germany.”

“Oh, I know that one!” she knew most ‘ones’, to be fair.

“I had suspected so, but have you heard of the heroic legends behind the pieces?”

“Ah, no… are those what you’re gonna explain?”

“I had planned to, yes. Alright, well, the four parts, as you know, are The Rhinegold, The Valkyrie, Siegfried, and Twilight of the Gods. Nowadays, they are most commonly played as individual, separate works despite making one complete story. They were always intended as a sequence - as The Ring cycle, cleverly. Each piece revolves on a loose basis to German heroic tales and Norse legendary sagas, with the overarching tale of the magic ring forged by the Nibelung dwarf, Alberich, which grants the power to rule the world,” he paused at the sight of (Y/n) yawning, his lips pursed and eyes shot down to his shoes before flickering back up to the girl, “Ah, my apologies for taking far longer than necessary. You must find this- “

“Ah, no!” (Y/n) shook her head, waving her hands about as though it would physically prove how far from needed his apology was, “That’s not it! I’m just kinda tired, ya know?” as if to prove her point, another yawn washed over her, “I hadn’t slept well last night after Kirumi…”

“I see,” Korekiyo nodded, closing his eyes to think over his words, “I apologize for making it about myself. If you wish, I could walk you to your dormitory. Now that you mention it, it has been quite the long day.”

“You don’t have to, Kiyo, I’d hate to bother you so much in one day let alone one sitting,” the composer puffed her cheeks out, “That’d be so obnoxious…”

“I don’t find it obnoxious whatsoever, especially if it’s to aid- “ he hesitated, “to aid a friend.”

He hadn’t had friends before. People usually found him creepy and that was the end of the story - nobody approached him and he didn’t branch out. Life went on. The world spun. His loneliness was everlasting and yet nonexistent. He has Sister. Though, deep down, he knows. She’s on another plane of reality with loneliness stronger than his, that’s why he sends her respectable young women.

Just like (Y/n).

But just… not (Y/n). For reasons he personally chooses to not disclose to even himself.

“Aww, Kiyo! You care!” the girl placed a hand over her heart as if to show that the organ itself was squeezing in delight at his offer.

“Of course, I do,” Korekiyo didn’t like how quiet she made him. How jittery and nervous. And he didn’t like how it made him question the way Sister made him feel.

She also made him nervous but it felt different. He liked to pretend it was the nervousness of a love you don’t quite have yet, but he fully knows he’d be lying. She was a mean girl, a bully in school before being hospitalized. Prone to violent and outright frightening outbursts when she had the energy to do more than force him to her side.

But he didn’t like questioning those feelings for Sister. Who he was, was based on her. His uniform. His passion and talent. His hair. His perfect complexion. His life as the universe knows it is an ode to her.

It’s too late for him to go back now… he’s already done so much in her name it’d be cruel to give up now. He might as well continue for Sister.

“If you really don’t mind, then yeah, I’d like it if we could walk together… I get a little nervous going around at night, you never know who’s gonna snap…”

“And you trust me?”

Shit. That’s what gets him in trouble. It’s as Sister always said. ‘Too naive to make his choices, and once he’s free, too inept to make the right ones.’

“Well, yeah,” (Y/n) spoke as if there was hardly any thought to the answer, “All you’ve shown me is somebody worth trusting,” then, she’s quick to remember poor Kaede, “Well, maybe I’m being silly. But hey, if I have to choose between dying trusting my friends and paranoid beyond myself, then maybe I’d- “ she paused, “Ehhh, I don’t like the way that’s coming out.”

“I understand what you’re attempting to say,” Korekiyo reassured, turning towards his research lab’s exit, “Let us start towards the dormitories, yes?”

“Right!” (Y/n) nearly found herself jogging to catch up to Korekiyo’s long-strided head start, she clutched the strap of her bag as she did so, “So… you heard about Angie’s plan, right?”

“To perform a resurrection?”

“Do you think it’ll work?” she seemed antsier than was typical for her, “I mean, you’re into anthropology, so, like, has there ever been a case where that did work? Do you know?”

“No, besides, that would be more akin to history, remember?” she probably didn’t, her memory failed her at an ungodly amalgamation of best and worst of times.

“Oh, yeah,” she murmured and nodded, pretending to recall the difference between the two.

“Who would you desire back into this game, if you could?”

“Rantaro,” her answer was quick, her fingers looping together nervously, “We didn’t really talk much, but uhm, whenever we did - he was really nice. He said I reminded him of a sister of his… so that’s a good thing, right?”

Depends on who you ask, really.

“You grew attached to him so quickly?” there was no jealousy there, he tried to convince himself.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I’d gotten to know him more. He was always running around, trying to save us, and in the end… it got him killed.”

A lot of things will get you killed.

Korekiyo shook off the thoughts racking his brain, “Your care for him even through his estrangedness and peculiarity is truly beautiful, (Y/n),” he fiddled with the locket piece hanging around his shoulders, “Even your care for myself. I’d be lying if I’d said it wasn’t endearing.”

“You’re not…” her words died out, not wanting to lie to a dear companion of hers, “You’re a little off-putting but you’re not undeserving of love, Kiyo.”

It was a complete 180 from what Sister had told him his entire life. A new lesson coming in far too late. He had to earn love. He should’ve been crawling on his knees and pleading for affection, but now he was supposed to simply receive it? It sounded so incredibly fake. A fictitious tale told alongside gumdrop fairies and candy trees.

No place for someone of realistic standard.

No place for him.

“You’re far too kind, (Y/n).”

“Maybe you just haven’t known nice people,” she suddenly stopped, slapping a palm to her mouth and muffling against it, “I’m so sorry!”

“Worry not,” Korekiyo continued walking, “I’m unphased.”

Because maybe it was true.

Maybe Sister wasn’t so nice.

There was an itch at his skin in the thought and he shook his head.

Sister was kind enough to love someone like him. Who was of rotted soul and rancid heart.

“I shouldn’t have just said that, especially since I don’t really know your life…”

“Would you like to learn it someday?”

(Y/n) was fairly shocked at how quickly he seemed to breeze by her insult to his family and friends - well, if he had any friends - but she wouldn’t refuse. It was extra time with Korekiyo! Who could turn that down?

“I’d love to.”

“Tea and cookies,” (Y/n) pumped a fist in the air, “What could be better than enjoying those with a friend?”

Korekiyo felt his lips twitch up behind his mask at the rhetorical question, he reached out for his teacup, “Perhaps freedom from this killing game?”

“Oh, yeah, huh…” she deflated, “Jeez, I can’t believe I’d say that…”

Oh, great, of course, now he’s gone and made the local ball of sunshine in this school upset.

“Nevermind that, (Y/n), it was a tease…” he gripped the cup a little tighter, cheeks heating up in humiliation at his failed joke, “I apologize if it seemed like anything other than such.”

“No, don’t apologize, it’s fine! It was kind of a dumb thing to say, now that I put some brain into it,” so it made sense she’d said it, (Y/n) frowned at the bitter thought.

“Ah,” the clink of a cup against the table caught the girl’s attention, “I must change my mask in order to properly enjoy this tea and these cookies,” as the anthropologist went to turn, he was stopped by another outburst from the girl.

“No, don’t! Uh, here!” she clenched her eyes shut, papped her palms over her face, and turned her head downwards, “See? Now I can’t!”

“You don’t have to go to such lengths, I could simply turn- “

“No, no, I want you to feel comfortable and I heard once that doing things to make your friends comfortable is, like, a way to make them like you more?” she huffed at the wording, “Just, I don’t know… I want you to know that I care. Ya get it? No need to turn yourself away like that when I can just not look.”

A tuft of air passed through his nostrils at the girl.

Sister would adore a friend like her.

Korekiyo pulled down his mask, brows drawn tight towards his eyes at the new realization. It was no longer a matter of her being respectable, it was now the knowledge that someone as tender-hearted as (Y/n) would be loved beyond comprehension by Sister.

But… no. Sister couldn’t have her. She’d understand, right? Of course. She could have someone else - the other bubbly girl, what’s her name? Angie. She could have Angie.

Korekiyo just… he just needed (Y/n). Something about her was calming and sweet. He picked his mask for eating from a pocket in his uniform and carefully adjusted it over his lips so as to not smudge his lipstick. It wouldn’t anyway, he knew this, but it usually never backfired to be too sure.

The lipstick in itself was quite the hassle. Another homage to Sister that she might not even be seeing. So was the hair. It got tangled and knotted and was hell to dry after a shower.

“Not to rush you at all, but are you done? Cuz my eyes are starting to hurt… I think I’m squeezing them too hard.”

“Right, yes, I am.”

He really shouldn’t think like that… Sister deserved to be honored.

As if she’d been reading his mind, (Y/n) leaned over slightly, pointing at Korekiyo’s hair, “Hey, hey, how do you manage that? It always looks so silky and soft and well-kept.”

“Ah, well, it is quite troublesome most days, but with patience and rather expensive products, I keep it together.”

“I was wondering, too, do you ever put it up?”

“Not usually, though, that would be… nice on occasion,” he sipped at his tea, enjoying the way (Y/n) shyly glanced away to prove she didn’t want to invade his privacy. She was too delightful to be in a place such as this, even if he did enjoy the beauties of law-absence.

“Uh, I don’t want to come off pushy or like you have to let me, but if you want, I’d love to put your hair up! To be honest, I’ve been wanting to for a while,” her eyes widened at her own statement, “Oh, that sounded creepy. I’m so sorry.”

“I am hardly one to judge,” he reached over for a cookie, “But, if you’re so inclined, I won’t protest.”

“Yay!” she bounced slightly in her chair, “Oh, that’s great, Kiyo, thanks.”

“Shall we go to your dorm after finishing our refreshments?”

“I’d like that,” (Y/n) grinned.

And to think she almost didn’t approach Korekiyo on that first day in the school. How ridiculous could she have been to judge based on looks? Sure, he was a little strange and the way he spoke was unlike any teenager she’d ever met, but he was still a person. He deserved to be given companionship.

Besides, he’d only ever shown her kindness and support.

He didn’t even make fun of her when she said something stupid in front of everyone.

She cringed at the memory of every time Kokichi or Miu or Maki prodded at her. Even Ryoma and Kaito had picked on her when she misspoke during the first trial and just brought up a point the class had already proven. It made her heart wrinkle and shrink at the mere thought. Kokichi still made fun of her for questioning Tsumugi’s whereabouts during Rantaro’s murder.

“You’re staring into your tea, it will grow cold if you only look at it.”

“Oh, yeah,” shaking her head, (Y/n) silently cursed herself for spacing out. What an awful habit of hers, it was, “Sorry for taking so long.”

“You shouldn’t apologize, I’m not upset in the slightest,” he felt his heart lighten at the tiny smile that illuminated her face, “I simply enjoy spending this time together.”

“You’re too nice sometimes, Kiyo,” she giggled, but they both recognized the tingle of nervousness jumbling within it, “If you’re not careful, I might fall for you or something…”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing?”

I wouldn’t mind, she wanted to say.

If you’ll have me, he wished to murmur.

Then he felt his chest tighten.

“Can I…” he tapped a finger to the table, “ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Uhm,” she bit her lip as she thought back, “No… why?”

“How do you think it feels?”

“Like, you could be free and yourself around the person? I’m not too sure, but I think if you and someone else are in love then you’ll accept each other completely, you know? Sure, there’s flaws in every person, but I think you accept those, too.”

“I see…”

“Kiyo, why do you ask?”

“I…” his brows furrowed, “A lot has been on my mind as of late.”

“Alright, I won’t pry,” standing from the dining table, (Y/n) clapped her hands together, “Now, if you’re still down, I’d love to put your hair up!”

“As it stands, I am still, as you put it, ‘down’,” Korekiyo nodded before joining the girl and starting towards her dorm room.

“Nice!” she pointed directly ahead, “Now, onward!”

A total airhead at her truest, Korekiyo thought. He didn’t usually partake in the type, but something about (Y/n) just pulled him in tighter every time he tried turning away.

So, what’s the harm in giving in? Swimming against the tide only ever led to drowning anyway, so why fight it?

Sister… Sister was dead. Is dead. Resurrection isn’t possible and hasn’t been in human history. And she had changed so much of him. (Y/n) would never force him to bend to her ideal.

The more he thought about Sister in comparison to (Y/n), the more he realized that Sister felt like a ball and chain - and (Y/n) felt like a breath of fresh air.

Just her name inside his own head sounded as sweet as the best form of heaven.

“Here we are!” (Y/n) cheered upon their arrival to her room, “There’s probably a bunch-load of unfinished works in here so just… don’t judge them too harshly, okay?”

“I could hardly judge an unfinished masterpiece.”

“I don’t know about masterpieces…”

“If you create them with heart and soul, there’s nobody who can effectively say they aren’t except for yourself,” Korekiyo enters the room after her, legs carrying him towards her desk as she roots around her bathroom for a hairbrush and hair tie, “Sadly, this is also applicable to disasters with effort put into them. However, just from skimming these, I can tell you they are not such disasters.”

“Aw, thanks, Kiyo, you know - I know I’m the Ultimate Composer and junk, but jeez it gets so nerve-wracking when people hear my stuff. I like what I write, but who’s to say other people will?”

“I understand that. Showing others your work is extremely unsettling at times,” he followed the girl to her bed and sat between her knees on the floor, “I recall feeling that way when I would dabble in artistry.”

“You can draw?”

“I would when I was much younger,” he felt her fingers run over his scalp and through his hair and the weight looming over his shoulders practically melted off, “I haven’t held onto any of them, and they’ve likely aged poorly, but I know how I felt showing them around.”

“Why’d you stop? If you don’t mind my asking,” reaching around, (Y/n) threaded her fingers through Korekiyo’s bangs and, as gently as humanly possible, pulled the hair hanging over and around his face back into a slicked style.

“My… sister, she always rathered that I participate in anthropology with her. I wasn’t all that good anyways.”

“Aw, that’s kinda sad. Even if you weren’t good, you could’ve improved over time.”

“Do you truly believe that, (Y/n)?”

“Of course, I mean, talents are just developed over time, right? Angie didn’t pop out of the womb an art genius and I didn’t start off great at writing music, you just keep at it and eventually your skill level is way better than when you started.”

Sister always said he’d be garbage at drawing. Somebody like him could never learn.

She tied off and twisted until the bun was perfect - well, not perfect. It was presentable enough, and it was just a bun anyway! Not like they had anywhere to be.

“Sorry it’s messy,” she scratched at her cheek, feeling anxious that he’d be upset with her work.

“I…” he felt another little smile peek over him, it was indeed messy with stray hairs sticking out here and there and a few tiny bumps running over his head, but even so, “I love it.”

“You do?”

“It��s a gesture from you, why wouldn’t I?”

Standing beside Korekiyo at the mirror, (Y/n) twiddled her thumbs before spewing out her question, “It’s totally cool if not, but can I hug you? Sorry if that’s weird!”

“No… it’s…” Sister never asked to touch him, and now that he thought about it, she never seemed to care when he told her to stop, “That would be wonderful.”

As her arms slowly came around him, he felt truly at ease. With Sister, there was always this fear of never being what she wanted. That she hated him deep down. With (Y/n), it felt like finally being attached to someone you were meant to. Returning to a place of deep affection.

“You truly do care about me, don’t you, (Y/n)?”

“What kind of question is that?” she back-pedals, “I mean, of course, I do. You’re very dear to me, Kiyo.”

Maybe even a little too dear, considering the current climate of the killing game.

But even so, neither of them pulls away. Neither cares enough to wrangle themselves from indulging in the other’s touch. It feels too good against their skin.

It’s then that Korekiyo’s brain strikes the flint to create the burning thought - maybe Sister wasn’t all that great. Maybe Sister didn’t love him.

She’s only ever made him miserable, now that he recalls it all.

(Y/n) doesn’t. She makes him feel human and alive and adored. He likes the way she makes him feel. And between the two, he much rather would be praised than berated.

Oh God, what did this mean again?

Where do the creation myths go?

Who’s Princess Kaguya?

Her head throbs at the thoughts rumbling through her. She tried to get Korekiyo to get someone, anyone, but her to organize his notes.

Shuichi would love this stuff! You two should bond!

Gonta could learn about being gentlemanly from you! It’d be a great learning experience!

I know you don’t like Miu that much, but maybe spending more time together could make you understand each other more?

Anyone.

And yet, Korekiyo denied. He liked spending time with her. He wouldn’t mind answering every question she had - no matter how many times she asked it. He was a patient person, he could handle it.

(Y/n) looked at all the books and stray papers surrounding her alike, bottom lip tugged between her teeth in focus and face beating hot in vivid embarrassment. He wasn’t even looking at her, thank God, but still… it was so mortifying that she’d already lost track of what she was doing.

She tried so hard to pay attention, she really, really did!

She wanted to help so bad. She wanted to be useful so bad.

But she knew… she’s not a smart person, per se. It was beaten over her head repeatedly her entire life by her family, schooling, peers, and even her friends. She was an idiot who couldn’t do anything right.

It’s why she wanted Korekiyo to ask someone else.

But how could she say no to him? He was always so nice, it’d be downright mean to refuse him. Right?

She felt her eyes burn, vision growing blurry through tears. Setting down the papers in her hands - (Y/n) covered her eyes to keep any wetness from splotching the notes below. It was the least a fucking moron could do.

“(Y/n)? Are you feeling okay?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She nodded shakily, just wanting Korekiyo to ignore her and continue his work. Better yet, he’d kick her out and she could dodge the incoming humiliation altogether.

“Yeah,” her voice cracked, lips trembling.

Goddammit.

She heard papers rustling before she could feel the presence at her side. Fingertips just barely grazing her body before hesitating back, “You’re lying.”

Understatement of the year.

“I just… I’m so sorry, Kiyo. I’m such an idiot, I knew I couldn’t do this,” she whimpered, desperately trying to grab and suffocate down her bubbling sobs before they wracked her throat, “I’m too fucking dumb to do anything right… I’m sorry…”

“No, no, don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong and you’re no idiot,” he’s immediately slammed with every memory of every time he’s called her such a thing. No matter how nice he tried to be about it, he still aided her insecurity, “I’m sorry for ever saying you were. Intellect is not measured by how well you can do a task nor should everyone’s mind be measured the same. Intelligence is fickle and is spread over a vast variety of subjects. You’re not an idiot for not being able to do something you’re not accustomed to.”

“I just… I- I wanted to help you but then I forgot everything you said about organizing them and then which regions are which and what even is a gorgon?”

He chuckled quietly at her question, “A creature in Greek mythology most commonly in reference to three sisters - Medusa, Euryale, and Sthenno - with hair made of living, venomous snakes that turned those who so much as looked upon them to stone,” he glanced around at what (Y/n) had gotten done, “I see that the filing in relation to music is nearly completed for your half.”

“That’s about all I’m good for.”

“And I would not have managed that so easily, music was never an incredible strength of mine - though I do admire it.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kiyo…”

“I would never,” he moved his notes away to sit more comfortably next to the girl, “In fact, if you’d be willing to listen…” his throat tightened and heart thumped in his chest, “I would like to tell you of something that’s been troubling me for quite some time.”

“Yeah,” she wiped away her tears, sniffling, “of course.”

“I told you of my sister, correct?” he waited for her nod of confirmation to continue, “Well, it’s my belief that…” his fists clenched.

What if she didn’t believe him? What if she blamed him? How do you tell someone your older sister raped and abused you when you’re barely even coming to terms with the fact yourself?

“(Y/n), I…” he stopped, gut bunching in knots before he suddenly ripped down his mask and turned to face her, “I think I need help…”

“What? You’re just wearing lipstick, Kiyo, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, no, no, no,” he shook his head, hands shaking wildly as he pulled out the ponytail (Y/n) had done up earlier and yanked through his hair, “E-everything I am is because of her! She consumes me even in death! She- she- she hurt me…”

“Oh,” the girl moved to sit up on her knees, hands reaching out but not yet touching him, “What happened, Kiyo? You can tell me, I’m listening.”

“She told me I was an awful boy, nobody but her could love someone so foul and creepy… she- “ he moved to grip his sleeves, “She touched me,” he looked into the girl’s eyes, “Is it my fault? Am I so disgusting? Why would she do this?”

“Do you want me to hold you or no?” at his shaky nod, she instantly took Korekiyo into a hug, cradling his head and shoulders to her body and stroking through his hair, “You’re more than what she made you. You’re bigger and better than her manipulation. And it’s not your fault she did what she did. It’s completely and totally on her. She took advantage of you, Kiyo, that’s not your fault.”

He grabbed her arm and pressed his face into her shirt as she held him, “Am I rotten? Am I lovable?”

“You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re worthy of love and care.”

His lipstick smeared over her shirt and across his cheek and neither of them minded. It would wash off eventually. Her stain on his life would come out.

“When we get out,” (Y/n) began again, “do you want to seek professional help? You can get it, Kiyo.”

He was slow to nod, beginning to grow tired from dosing out tears and trauma at once, “I do… thank you, (Y/n)...”

“No need to thank me.”

“(Y/n)?” she hummed quietly in acknowledgement, “Even if it isn’t for field work… I wish to travel the country with you. I want to show you the beauty of humanity as I know it… for our sakes.”

Looking down, (Y/n) caught the gentleness in his eyes, tender and soft and awaiting her response, she smiled softly, brushing back his hair, “I would love to, Kiyo. If it’s truly something you want to do, I would be happy to go anywhere with you.”

Nighttime was quickly approaching and with the atmosphere and turmoil of the class, (Y/n) didn’t feel very safe being out so late.

“You’re certain you don’t wish for me to walk you to your room?”

“No, you finish up here,” (Y/n) waved off Korekiyo’s offer, “Don’t be such a worry-wart, yeah? I’ll be fine! You better take care of yourself while I’m gone, though.”

He nodded, a small smile stretching over him, “I will, dear (Y/n), don’t worry.”

The girl’s eyes widened slightly before she returned his beam, “You have a cute smile, Kiyo.”

“Oh,” right, he didn’t have his mask on at the moment. It was refreshing to wake up and not trouble himself with makeup for a woman he wasn’t sure even cared - dare he say it, it was nice, even.

He’d only taken his mask off around (Y/n), it felt intimate. Sweet. Something passed only between them.

“Thank you.”

She nodded before turning back and pressing outward from his research lab, “I’ll see ya tomorrow, Kiyo! You better have the sweetest dreams, ya hear me?”

“You as well.”

He returned to cleaning up his lab, occasionally stumbling over a floorboard looser than the others. How troublesome.

That’s when her voice picked up from within his brain.

“You never loved me.”

He looked around despite knowing exactly where the voice was coming from.

“You let her do this to you. You let her take you from me.”

Pushing past them, he persisted in rooting through his notes and organizing his papers.

“She hates you. She’s scared of you. She’s just trying to be nice. You scare her. You scare all of them. You rotten, rotten boy. You’ve been ruined - only I could love a face so hideous and broken. A horrible, horrible boy lucky enough to be given the love I did.”

His hands shook, fingers twitching and heart thrumming heavy, “No. (Y/n) likes me. She enjoys my company.”

“Why would she enjoy the company of someone so lonely and depressing? So gross and foul? She probably hates you for partaking in your own sister’s touch.”

“No, she- she doesn’t… she knows it’s not… it’s not my fault…”

“Are you inside her head? How do you know? How are you certain? I’m the only one who ever loved you - and you’ve abandoned me. Left me all alone.”

“No, I- I haven’t abandoned you, Sister! Please, believe me, I never abandoned you.”

“So, you know what you must do to prove yourself to me.”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like that…”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like you anyway.”

She’s right, right? She’s right. Someone as wonderful and beautiful as (Y/n) could never adore him the way he does her. He loves her and she must find him repulsive. Staying out of fear.

Out of pity for the boy abused by his sister. And so, who better to return to than the more predictable of the two?

(Y/n) may have felt more like coming home than Sister - but Sister was home. (Y/n) was comfort. Sister was familiarity.

He found his foot planted against the loose floorboard once again. He knew how he had to make up for his misdeeds and abandonment.

“I’m truly relieved to see that you got to your room safely,” Korekiyo murmured to (Y/n).

“Huh? Oh yeah,” she pointed over to their local gentle giant, “Gonta and I crossed paths on my way and he wanted to walk me to my room and I just couldn’t say no to him. It’s nice to have someone you trust in this ‘game’. Well, other than you,” the elevator jumbled slightly as it dove down into Monokuma’s makeshift courtroom, “I trust you, obviously.”

She shouldn’t. And he wants to tell her that.

But as Kokichi and Shuichi take glances at him from across the elevator, he knows that she’ll figure things out soon enough.

And, during the trial, when Shuichi’s convicting Korekiyo of the murder of Angie Yonaga and Tenko Chabashira - she does. And she cries and screams and throws a fit. Demanding Korekiyo to fight back harder. Demanding Shuichi to stop lying and get serious. Because Korekiyo would never kill somebody.

He was nice. He was a gentleman. He cared about people. He had stolen her heart - and a man who managed that wouldn’t kill anybody. So, of course, Shuichi was lying.

“Do I have to remind you of what’ll happen if you don’t vote?” Monokuma bit out.

(Y/n) clutched at her hair - she knew what she had to do. But every time she went to vote for Korekiyo, her body wouldn’t let her.

Reaching over, the boy himself took her hand in his, “Allow me,” as he guided her hand over her voting panel. No matter how she swatted at his hand or tried to wrench herself from Korekiyo’s grip, he pressed her vote into his name.

She was forced to watch as he was strung up and spun. Made dizzy and sickly. She was made to watch as he fell into the melting pot. Fires eating at his body until he was no more than spirit.

As Monokuma and the sister who had harmed him so horrifically worked as one to rid the world of his soul.

Eyes went to (Y/n) as the execution subsided. Her sobs and hiccups drawing everyone’s attention.

Gonta was the first to approach, a large hand settling on the girl’s back as she cried, silently taking her into a hug.

Her heart wrenched, fingers squeezing at Gonta’s suit and throat rubbing raw with her wild wails.

He could’ve gotten help. He could’ve gotten out with everyone. If she’d just stayed with him then she could’ve done something. Angie and Tenko would be here. Korekiyo would be here.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Kaito’s voice peeked through, “Don’t cry because he’s gone, (Y/n). Move forward - for both of you.”

“I…” she shook her head, choking on a sob, “I don’t think I can…”

Shuichi placed a hand on Kaito’s shoulder, “Just give her a little time.”

As the group moved out of the courtroom, Gonta stayed by (Y/n)’s side up until she clumsily made her way into her dorm room.

Immediately, she collapsed into her bed sheets. Dreading tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that. And the one after that. And so on. And so forth. Maybe she should’ve known better than to go around falling for a guy in the killing game. Maybe she should’ve held herself up in her room all alone.

There was no escape from this feeling. No hiding. It may get better over time - but Korekiyo would always be gone.

A buzz at the door caught her attention. Her movements were sluggish, honestly just hoping that whoever was there had given up and left by the time she finally answered.

Shuichi stood there, classically uneven, anxious smile and all, “I think there’s something you might be interested in? If you’ll follow me.”

No verbal response was given, only (Y/n) stepping out of her room and shutting the door behind her to give him her confirmation.

He began towards the casino. With a sigh, (Y/n) was about to tell Shuichi off - she didn’t need to start gambling to get over Korekiyo’s death - until he stopped in front of the building.

“I mostly just wanted you to get some fresh air,” he says earnestly before digging in his pocket and pulling out a key with a heart-shaped handle, “I got this from here. You can get your own or keep this one, I think you need it more than I do,” at her confusion he continues to explain, “It can take you into this weird dream-like state where you can see what ‘ideal’ you play in our classmates’ minds… I think you know who I gave this to you for.”

“Kiyo…”

“Yeah. You can see him again, if you want.”

She wanted to be strong and push the key back into Shuichi’s hand - instead, she just looked between him and the key in her hold and nodded slowly, “Thank you, Shuichi…”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, “Sleep well, (Y/n). I know you can grow past this.”

Because he did.

“I’ll try.”

But he wasn’t her. And Kaede was gone far before Korekiyo. And their grief was not the same.

“Thanks again, Shuichi.”

“Just take your time, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Her knees felt like collapsing under the weight of her nerves, hand falling to the doorknob of the hotel room.

She pushed through her anxiety and found herself in a red-tinted room, a large heart-shaped bed in the center with a merry-go-round circling it. Then, she found Korekiyo standing to the side.

What would his ‘ideal’ version of her be? A friend? An out-of-touch acquaintance? A lover?

Her heart throbbed at the last possibility.

“Ah, my dear, back so soon?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m, uhm, not sure?”

I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.

“Then don’t,” he seemed to glide across the room, taking the girl’s cheeks in his hands, “You’ve always had a problem with that, my love.”

My love? My love.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” she huffed at her own word selection, “Oh…”

Korekiyo chuckled quietly, pulling down his mask to kiss her forehead, “I already took my medication while you were out.”

“Your medication?”

“Yes, from the doctor. You were the one who pushed me to go, have you forgotten?”

“Right! No, no, I just blanked,” she quickly lied, giving the boy a broad grin, “I’m glad, though.”

“It’s only medication, dear.”

“Still,” (Y/n) reached up to cup Korekiyo’s cheek, “it’s good that you’re following through with your meds.”

“Your support always helps,” he pressed another kiss to the girl’s forehead, “We’ll be leaving early in the morning tomorrow, I should warn you,” at her furrowed brows he explained, “In order for us to catch the first train to Iwate prefecture. Did you forget, darling?”

“Wait, wait, let me guess…” she waited for his nod before tossing out her suggestion, “We’re traveling for field work!” she was then quick to tag on, “As a couple that’s, like, super in love?”

“You didn’t forget at all, my love,” Korekiyo pulled away slightly, and sat on the bed, removing his shoes, “You play that memory of yours down too much. You’re far more intelligent than you think.”

“You think that?”

“Of course, I do. It’s not just because I love you dearly, either. You mustn’t let the words and actions of others control your opinion on yourself - you’re better than they say.”

This is his ultimate fantasy. He’s her lover. They travel and see the beauty of humanity together, just like what he said he wanted. He loves her. He thinks she’s so great.

He’s wrong.

She should’ve stayed with him that night.

He’s wrong.

She could’ve done so much to keep him with her.

He’s dead.

Because she should’ve stayed.

“Kiyo,” her eyes burned and began to soak, “I’m sorry!” her lungs rapidly expanded and contracted with her sporadic breaths, her hands clutching at her shirt. Her knees finally buckled and she collapsed to the ground, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being a stupid, stupid, stupid failure! Please… forgive me…!”

Korekiyo immediately stood up and rushed to (Y/n)’s side, bringing her into a tight hug as she fell to the floor, his fingers running through her hair. He kisses at her temple and cheeks, waiting until her cries settle enough for him to be audible in the room, “It’s interesting, dear, I first realized I’d fallen in love with you in a situation similar as this. I desired to comfort and reassure you just as I do now. You’re not stupid nor a failure, and I adore you above all else.”

Shaking her head, (Y/n) only began to cry harder into Korekiyo’s chest. This could’ve been their future. This could’ve been what they had to share and hold between only each other. If she’d only stayed. If she’d been with him that night.

“Oh, my dear, I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“It wasn’t you,” she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep back her cries, “I- I- it’s all my fault… it’s all my fault…”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, darling,” Korekiyo held her tighter, “I love you, my dearest (Y/n). No matter what you’ve done, I will always forgive you.”

And once again, her tears only came out harder. Her head pounding ruthlessly at the ache and consciousness fading out in her exhaustion. Korekiyo was dead. And no amount of her tears could ever bring him back.

#korekiyo shinguji x reader #korekiyo x reader #shinguji x reader #drv3 x reader #he deserved so much better :(( i wuv him #let me know if i miss anything with the warnings

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jonismitchell · 4 years

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Love dies in the city; or the romanticism v. modernism conflict on folklore

In my humble opinion, Taylor Swift’s 2020 album folklore is about the conflict between romanticism and modernism. It sets up the natural as a place of freedom and unrestrained love, contrasting this with the city (presumably New York) as a place of hiding and secrecy that ultimately dooms the integral relationship. In the end, Swift expresses her deepest desires to return to the natural world, to restart the timeline that began with her move to New York, something I will elaborate on when discussing “hoax” and “the lakes.” This storyline is the crux of the album, and the motif I’ve used to classify its songs into six distinct sections, which follow a vague plot that is not represented in the track list order.

the natural (seven, invisible string, betty) I would argue that “seven” represents the heart of folklore, containing what seems to be the album’s mission statement (“passed down like folk songs / our love lasts so long”) and describing the earliest point in Swift’s timeline. This song is the one most directly linked to nature, describing a childhood friendship that takes place in the woods. One lyric, “before I learned civility / I used to scream ferociously / any time I wanted,” implies that Swift found freedom in nature, when her secrets were mere promises to friends instead of the pain she had since hinged her life on. In addition, this song is pure romanticism. The interest in childhood is implied, we can reasonably assume both main characters to be seven years old. To support this, the song states “although I can’t recall your face, I still got love for you,” implying that much time has passed since the events. There is awe of nature (the “beautiful things” are the creek and the trees), emphasis on the importance of imagination (your dad is mad because the house is haunted), and a celebration of the individual (“just like a folk song, our love will be passed on,” where the love is the individual she speaks of). This is the dream that Swift wants to return to, and yet her characters already face conflict (the keeping of secrets, hiding in the closet, an angry father). She romanticizes her past into something she can escape into, creating a sort of mythos around an upset childhood.

Our next nature-intensive song is “invisible string.” She again makes a callback to childhood, citing a park where she used to read in Nashville. It would not be incorrect to categorize this as a love song, perhaps the most lighthearted one on the album. Swift emphasizes time and fate, both recurring themes in her discography. Like “seven,” “invisible string” draws attention to nature as a freeing and healing space, which sets the stage for her romance. Lines such as “gold were the leaves when I showed you around Centennial Park” draw attention to the ‘invisible’ connection the song depicts. In the bridge, she notes that there was “a string that pulled me / out of all the wrong arms, right into that dive bar,” implying a protection from the dangers of interpersonal conflict. Throughout the verses, mentions of any city stay tangential (“your first trip to LA… an American singer”) while the focus lies on her freedom. It is a dreamlike song, which implies that the city can be glimpsed but not detrimental, and showcases an utter belief in things working out.

It is, then, rather ironic that the final song with unique ties to the environment highlights an unanswered apology after the foundations of romance have been shocked. “betty” is ostensibly narrated by a teenager, James, who plans to make up for her mistake in a garden. This perspective ties into the album’s greater focus on time, in this instance equating innocence (“I don’t know anything”) with a natural setting (the garden, which is explicitly removed from society). At first, James wonders if Betty will allow an apology, but wants it to happen without anyone watching (“if I showed up at your party… would you lead me to the garden”). She then casts this hope aside, dreaming about being able to broadcast her love to the world without fear of judgement (“will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends”). It is also, then, relevant that the relationship is ruined when scrutinized (“rumours from Inez”). When considering how themes of secrecy and hiding come into the picture once the narrative travels to the city, it is interesting to look at how the hope of an public relationship prevails here. But in the end, James still dreams of going back to any relationship with Betty, no matter how private (“kissing in my car again”). Of course, Taylor Swift herself is James, and James is Swift, so we know that the secrecy dooms the relationship in the end.

the romance (august, illicit affairs) “august” describes a doomed relationship, perhaps meant to be the affair James has that prompts her apology to Betty. However, the story of a love that was never built to last has been referenced multiple times in Swift’s discography (“Wildest Dreams” and “Getaway Car”) and even expressly linked to summer on 2019’s “Cruel Summer.” These songs show distinct lyrical similarities to “august.” Hence, I feel comfortable describing this song in the context of those, rather than within the storyline of Swift’s fictitious love triangle. (Which is flimsy as it stands, but that’s for another analysis.) While there is no set location, this song describes one kind of coming-of-age (“whispers of are you sure”) and delves into the hope associated with a short-lived romance. Here, there is no secrecy to speak of, but a fear of what will come when a return to society comes (“will you call when you’re back at school”). My contrast for this song is saying it is “Cruel Summer” without the ‘happy’ ending. There is a privacy here (“meet me behind the mall”) but it is the instability of the romance that dooms it (“you weren’t mine to lose”). “august” is a time capsule, a reflection on the love that always would’ve ended regardless of the locale.

The next song, “illicit affairs,” is another one that ‘visits’ the city (for lack of a better term) but places the primary conflict in a largely undetermined setting. In fact, there seems to be a rejection of the urban (“take the road less traveled by”). In the sorting of tracks as they relate to different sub-themes, “illicit affairs” is the first song that says, without preamble, that secrecy is the death of love. While the word ‘illicit’ simply means forbidden, the verses describe sneaking around in a way that has been attributed to cheating since album release. There is virtually no acknowledgement of another character outside of the two lovers, save for the ‘him’ referenced in the perfume line. But it is not this person that the narrator seeks to hide from, it seems to be almost everyone. It could be construed as a song about adultery, but taken in the context of the rest of the album it reads as a lament for having to hide a relationship (most likely a romantic one between two women, but this is extrapolation).

the city (the last great american dynasty, mirrorball, mad woman) Now we approach the slew of songs that deal with the actual location of the city. The first song is “the last great american dynasty,” which seems the most removed from Taylor’s viewpoint and yet involves her directly (“and then it was bought by me”). We get an actual move to the ‘city’ (“Rebekah rode up on the afternoon train”) which is reminiscent of Swift’s own move to New York in 2014. Rebekah is immediately disliked by the people around her, blamed for her husband’s death to the extent where she flies in “bitch pack friends.” (1) Keeping with the theme of folklore’s similarity to a time capsule, one could see this song as Swift retelling her own purchase of Holiday House (and by extension much of the events from 2014/2015) through the lens of someone else’s life. Indeed, part of this theory is directly corroborated by the song through the lines “then it was bought by me” and “I had a marvellous time ruining everything.” In relation to the conflict between secrecy and survival of love, “the last great american dynasty” does not offer much insight. However, it effectively sets the scene for songs to come.

(1): I don’t know anything about Rebekah Harkness’ life, this is just how I interpreted the song.

After the initial move, “mirrorball” establishes the new dynamic between the lovers. In turn, it introduces the performative nature of romance in the city (which is referred to and combatted with the line “all these people think love’s for show / but I would die for you in secret” from “peace”). Swift expresses interest in a lover who is “not like the regulars,” who wants more than to watch her turmoil. Still, this song finds her drawn into the nature of performing, consistently showcasing her tragedy to let others see themselves to the extent where she cannot even let her guard down when “no one is around.” Even after the circus has been called off, she seems to have entirely integrated with the role of the mirrorball. This provides some introspection on her viewpoint: digging into insecurities under the viewpoint of desperately trying to save a sinking ship. Almost as a counterpart to “seven,” the lyrics to “mirrorball” show some characteristics of modernism. Individualism is represented through the focus on the person who is the mirrorball, while unrelated characters do not warrant much elaboration. In terms of formalism and experimentation, the format and structure of the song deviate from Swift’s usual manner. The concept of a person being a mirrorball (shown in the music video as a disco ball) is both a symbol and verges into the absurd. All the imagery in this track is based in large crowds; featuring a disco, a circus, and masquerade revelers. It both establishes the setting where love dies and assures that the relationship will end (“the end is near”).

“mad woman” is the final song which establishes setting more than storyline. It proves the city as a angry and dangerous place, one that is not sympathetic to “people like” Swift. We find her contemplating revenge on someone who has done her a great wrong, which is less attached to the general storyline but serves to depict the setting as actively hostile and worthy of contempt. When compared with other tracks, certain lyrics imply that the narrator is hell-bent on getting the last word (“they say move on but you know I won’t” / “you know I left a part of me back in New York”). There isn’t much else notable about this song in terms of what we are talking about, but it does frame several absurdist tendencies in the context of a destructive setting.

the death (cardigan, exile, my tears ricochet, epiphany) In “cardigan,” Swift reminisces on a long-past relationship, which has been interpreted to be James and Betty’s teenage melodrama. This is the first of many breakup songs, which idolize what has passed and mourn the loss. We observe many signs of the city (“chasing shadows in the grocery line”) and individualism (“I knew everything when I was young”). As referenced in “betty,” the cardigan becomes a symbol for the relationship at large. Moreso, the idea that the relationship was cursed to end as it begun is elaborated on here (“I knew you tried to change the ending”) even if it is not ascribed to secrecy yet. In reflecting on Swift’s past work, we see many signs of her being accustomed to this thought (“I can see the end as it begins” from Wildest Dreams and “I knew (...) we were cursed” from Getaway Car), but “cardigan” comes across with deeper pain regarding the whole affair. In tying different lyrics together (“back when I was living for the hope of it all” from “august” and “I hope I never lose you” from Cornelia Street), we begin to paint a picture of the true narrative behind the love triangle. Swift knew her greatest love would end—desperately hoped it wouldn’t, prayed they could ‘get away with it’—and finally channels her anger and sorrow into this retrospective. She almost accepts it: love dies in the city.

Another reflection on a past relationship is folklore’s only duet; “exile.” This song discusses an inability to communicate, the concept of determined endings (“I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending”), and plenty of ‘hiding in the city’ imagery. This sees one narrator (Swift) faking a relationship (“just your understudy”) to hide her true lover (in this context, Iver). Both agree on various facets that caused fallout (“didn't even hear me out... never learned to read your mind… couldn’t turn things around”) until the final disagreement (“you never gave a warning sign / I gave so many signs”). So while the song is fundamentally about a miscommunication, it is evident that much of the misunderstanding comes from ways of signalling the secret relationship. Presence of the city is acknowledged through lyrics such as “I’m leaving out the side door,” “out here in the hall,” implying that the narrators share an apartment. Nature also gets a brief mention here (“breaking branches”), but this usage explains that the freedom of the narrators is fading, just like their connection to the natural.

Most do not connect “my tears ricochet” to romantic fallout, but there is no denying that the song hinges around prominent death metaphors. Many metaphors used imply that the narrator has broken up with their lover, but still haunts the hope of what could’ve been. In the line “we gather stones, some to throw, some to make a diamond ring,” a connection to marriage is implied, divorcing the meaning from the loss of Swift’s masters. A crowd of people is repeatedly referenced (the ones in a sunlit room, for instance) and the lover must “save face” in front of them. This external pressure contributes to the greater theme of death of love in the city, which Swift equates to her own death. She describes herself as a recalcitrant ghost (“you know I didn’t want to have to haunt you”) but one her lover must have around (“when you can’t sleep at night, you hear my stolen lullabies”). This song is another one that recognizes Taylor Swift the writer within the lyrics; within this interpretation the “stolen lullabies” are the songs that the ex-lover inspired, work she can no longer look proudly on. While no explicit connections to the city are formed, it is obvious that some external pressure resulted in a damning betrayal, which was painful enough to describe as death.

The final song in this death theme is “epiphany,” which does not discuss the romantic timeline at all. Instead, “epiphany” is the culmination of two sub-motifs on folklore: water and war. In nature, water gains a passing mention in “seven,” but does not truly become relevant in this organization until “the last great american dynasty.” In “epiphany,” the water reference is “crawling up the beaches now,” which serves to distance it from the overall storyline. The song also deals with the war motif (evident in most of the songs, but “ease your rifle” is very literal) and contrasts soldiers at war to doctors during the pandemic. All of this builds on this section’s burgeoning theme of death. It fits in with the album theme, but does not display obvious modernist or romanticist hallmarks.

the chance (the 1, this is me trying, peace) Opening the album is “the 1,” a frequently disliked song but a very telling one. It is similar to “cardigan” in that it reminisces on a past relationship, but the narrator feigns contentment with her current situation. If all of folklore can be considered a time capsule, “the 1” perhaps describes the headspace of the narrator before they begin reminiscing: convinced they are alright, but not holding up very well. This song involves much city imagery (“I hit the Sunday matinee,” “I thought I saw you at the bus stop”) and deals with the aftermath of many events in the album. It is interesting that this song was one of the last written, as one can imagine the narrator went directly from “it would’ve been fun” to “don’t want no other shade of blue but you” (as described in hoax). The love has died here; but there’s a desperate hope to return (“if one thing had been different, would everything be different”).

Much like “betty,” “this is me trying” is another last-ditch attempt to save a failed relationship. Both songs find Swift in a doorway, ready to apologize, but “this is me trying” bears the weight of experience and less expectation that they will have a second chance. The increased maturity finds acknowledgement of faults without excuse (“my words shoot to kill when I’m mad / I have a lot of regrets about that”) and an attempt to come to terms with the death of the relationship despite pain. This, of course, breaks apart in the bridge (“all I want is you”) but, as Swift consoles herself, at least she’s trying. Setting-wise, this seems to be in a smaller locale (“the one screen in my town”) which calls to mind the “the only thing we share is this small town” from “Death By A Thousand Cuts.” There is also what appears to be a bar (“pouring my heart out to a stranger / but I didn’t pour the whiskey”) and an influx of people (“it’s hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound”). It is not necessarily the city, but rather a recovery period that does not go well.

If the painful instruction of “illicit affairs” acts as a foil to 2014’s “How You Get The Girl,” then the anxiety of “peace” complements 2017’s “Delicate.” While “Delicate” expresses the sufferance of an early, undefined relationship (“is it cool that I said all that”), “peace” begs the lover to reconsider the end one last time. As “hoax” makes undoubtedly clear, it wasn’t enough. We see the dangers of outside influence (“I’d sit with you in the trenches”) and the strength of the romance (“the silence that only comes when two people understand each other”). It is a final plea for someone to stay, a list of the success and a fatal acknowledgement of the worst. There is a declaration that sums up much of the album: “all these people think love’s for show / but I would die for you in secret.” As we’ve seen from other songs, it is the secrecy and the hiding that has doomed them. Swift sees this, she briefly suggests a return to the free and safe woods (“give you my wild”) but is ultimately stuck on the question of peace, which she wishes she could give her partner.

the return (hoax, the lakes) The original album closer, “hoax,” finds Swift leaving a part of herself in the destructive city that has become home. She makes an attempt to return to her home, only to find that it is not the way she’s left it (“my barren land”). With her lover, she has gone through a journey that changed her too much to return to innocence (“I can go anywhere I want, just not home” from “my tears ricochet” contrasted with “you’re not my homeland anymore” from “exile,” where the lover becomes the homeland). She turns to a bleak setting, using sparse lyricism and simple constructs to describe her pain and betrayal. While Lover highlights themes of likening one’s love to a religion, the Swift we see on “hoax” has given up on any sort of healing coming from her romance. All she acknowledges is that the circumstances of her love have “broken her down” and “frozen the ground” (from which she hopes a “red rose” will emerge in “the lakes”).

In “the lakes,” Swift tries to move forward but still sets her sights on the natural world, citing a deep desire to escape the scrutiny that destroyed her romance completely. This is a call to action for her former lover, a final request for shared freedom that reminds the listener of the lyric “would you run away with me?” from 2017’s “Call It What You Want.” Swift continues to call on aspects of romanticism she’s referenced on reputation and Lover to make her point. It then tracks that she has been inspired by this muse all along, and is finally asking for a return; both to the early romanticism her albums are built on and to her lover’s “homeland.” Her desire for a new home is evident, her conviction that her former lover should join her too great to be overcome.

The response of the muse to this, of course, is unclear.

#arden speaks #my analysis #taylor swift analysis #this is more than three thousand words #arden's essays

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