#19.3 Unravel
It had been some time since Agni felt this nervous. Not even talking with Jinsung Ha recently had made him feel like this. He fiddled with the mask on his hand as he waited for Grace to come back. He had thought hard on how to deliver the news, but he knew that no matter how he phrased it, Grace would be upset. Velt nuzzled under his palm and Agni gave her a few pats, before deciding that she would be better inside her bowl in his lighthouse, just in case the shinsu acted up around Grace after he received the news.
Grace came back wearing the comfiest shirt and shorts Agni knew Grace liked to wear on lazy days. He joined him on the floor, and they ate dinner together. Agni always finished last, so while waiting for him to finish his meal, Grace told him about his day with Bam. Grace was intrigued by how much his way of thinking had changed, and how glad he was to be able to be by Bam's side when he was having a bad day. It reminded Agni of the hidden floor, when Grace faced his sworn enemy.
They left the used bowls on the coffee table and went to brush their teeth. Afterwards, they turned off the light and went upstairs to sit on their bed. Grace's curious gaze never left him, and Agni curled his feet nervously.
Grace was the one who broke the silence. "So…what is it?"
Agni's breath hitched. This was the part he dreaded most. "I talked with the crocodile earlier. Did you know that he could manipulate stone already?"
"Huh." Grace needed a few seconds to let the information sink in. "Didn't Rak learn it on the Hell train? How does he know it?"
"Turns out our crocodile also traveled back to the past like us. He found the young crocodile and taught him."
"What?!" Grace gasped, wide eyed. "That means our Rak is–!!"
"He's dead." Agni quickly snuffed out that hope. They had been in delusion for long enough; it was time that they faced the bitter truth. "He suffered a fatal injury from the explosion. He couldn't have lasted long without proper help." Agni omitted the actual cause for Rak's death, but still kept his words true. "I'm sorry."
"…Oh." Grace looked lost, just like Agni was. His lips parted a little, but they closed before any sound escaped.
Agni gently squeezed Grace's hand, encouraging and comforting as he let the silence stretch on, giving Grace some time to process the information.
"Agni…" Grace whispered, "do you think Hatz and Isu…?"
Agni bit his lip and avoided his gaze, as the nightmare of that day replayed in his mind. He witnessed Hatz get his arms ripped off when trying to protect him. He could still recall the clang of a sword hitting the floor, and Hatz's suppressed scream that gnawed deep at his guilt. He witnessed Isu get beheaded after being taken hostage, the memory of warm blood painting them both still vivid like it happened yesterday.
Agni refused to acknowledge their possible deaths, because it felt like a nightmare that one day he could hopefully wake up from. He avoided the topic when Grace brought it up, so he wouldn't have to say it aloud and make it real. He had been so hard on himself, because he couldn't get rid of the feeling that he had failed Grace and everyone else involved.
Agni knew this had to change if he wanted to live better, now that they had gotten a second chance. So he swallowed down the lump in his throat that had built up over the years and asked mostly to himself; "What are the odds of their survival?"
"There's always a chance–"
"Grace." Agni looked him straight in the eye. "They were already severely injured before the explosion hit."
Grace fell silent and went still.
Agni felt a pang of guilt upon witnessing Grace's reaction. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap." Agni fiddled with his hands. He realized that he didn't know how much Grace knew of what happened. "My scar…do you know how I got it?"
"I…was told it was from the family heads' battle." Grace looked thoughtful. Agni knew he was trying to be careful with his words. "A stray attack?"
"It could have been worse." The memory of the scorching heat on his skin felt like it had only happened yesterday. He passed out right when he was about to heal Isu, and only found out later that he also lost sweetfish at that time. The days he spent recovering from the burn, to withstand the excruciating pain every second he was conscious, and finally coming to terms that it'd be a permanent scar, was one of the turning points that had changed him forever. Were Grace not there to care for him, he might have ended up destroying himself even more.
Agni hadn't realized he had his left hand clawing on his cheek until Grace pried his hand off and frowned, "You're doing it again."
"Maybe I should wear the mask…" Agni muttered to himself. After all, Grace gave it to him less so he could hide the scar but more to prevent him from unconsciously hurting himself. The only time he could safely take it off was when Grace was around.
Agni bit his lip nervously when Grace didn't reply. He no longer had the courage to look Grace in the eye that spoke so much concern, so he leaned close and rested his head on Grace's chest. "Rak, Isu, Hatz and Hwaryun were trying to get me out of that damned place. But we were caught while escaping, and…it was a bloodbath. I was…too occupied to react to the incoming heat. Rak shielded us from the explosion. And when I woke up…"
"They weren’t with you," Grace finished it for him after Agni trailed off a moment too long.
Agni nodded dazedly, "I've been telling myself that they're still alive, after a blow that could kill rankers. But…who am I kidding? I was lucky enough to survive with just this little–" Agni vaguely pointed to himself– "inconvenience."
Agni felt a hand gripping his arm, and he pulled away to see Grace looking at him with a pained expression. His eyes were glossy and his lips were pulled into a thin line. Trusting his instinct, Agni reached out to gently trace and cup Grace's cheek with his free hand.
"I'm sorry," Agni muttered. "I'm sorry, for not telling you sooner."
Agni silently witnessed tears that streamed down on his love's face. It was a bitter sight that Agni wished he'd never have to see again, that he had tried to avoid for so long by not telling him. He pulled Grace in and held him close to his chest, as if Agni was trying to gather his own crumbled heart back together.
Grace mumbled their late best friends' names as he held onto him tighter, shaking from each breath he took between sniffles.
Agni felt his own eyes sting with unshed tears. He remembered the years he spent climbing the tower together with his old team. Despite their banter being his source of headaches, Agni knew he too had come to acknowledge them as his cherished friends. Only when they were gone did Agni realize how much he'd miss having them around. Seeing the younger them didn't exactly close the gaping hole in his heart, but at least the emptiness was more filled.
Agni squeezed Grace tighter. "We have their younger selves with us now. We will protect them better this time."
Grace only nodded and sank further into his embrace. And Agni planted kisses on his hair, relishing the thought that after everything he had gone through, Grace was still a constant in his life. As long as he had him, everything would be okay.
When Grace started shaking again, Agni caressed his hair and hummed a comfort song they had known by heart. Still, it didn't make falling asleep any easier for Agni, especially not after admitting that his nightmare was very much real. However, as he had been through grief…this, too, would pass.
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Howdy jacksprostate can you give us some thoughts on the narrators father/upbringing? Im curious on how you interpret what the book/movie gave us in terms of his absent dad
Also i love ur posts btw and thank you for replying to like all of my fight club art 😭 It genuinely pushes me to make more for the community so i thank you
Howdy :)
The narrator's father is an important, ever present, and completely lacking figure in the book and movie. (Obligatory disclaimer I mostly focus on the book) Here's some things I've been thinking about:
The chapter detailing fight club, its start, its rules, is intertwined with fatherhood. As the narrator explains his first punch with Tyler, as he looks upon his new disciples, as Tyler reads out the rules:
"Maybe self-improvement isn't the answer.
Tyler never knew his father.
Maybe self-destruction is the answer."
"Me, I knew my dad for about six years, but I don't remember anything. My dad, he starts a new family in a new town about every six years. This isn't so much like a family as it's like he sets up a franchise.
What you see at fight club is a generation of men raised by women."
You have the lines, Tyler’s in the movie, the narrator’s in the book, you have:
"My father never went to college so it was really important I go to college.
After college, I called him long distance and said, now what?
My dad didn't know.
When I got a job and turned twenty-five, long distance, I said, now what? My dad didn't know, so he said, get married.
I'm a thirty-year-old boy, and I'm wondering if another woman is really the answer I need."
You have:
"Tyler was fighting his father.
Maybe we didn't need a father to complete ourselves. There's nothing personal about who you fight in fight club."
And you have his boss; his boss he blows up, Tyler constantly tells the narrator how he could do it, Tyler’s words come out against his boss about how he could shoot up the office, begging to be punished, using the copy machines, begging for more than nothingness; you have:
“The problem is, I sort of liked my boss.
If you’re male and you’re Christian and living in America, your father is your model for God. And sometimes you find your father in your career.
Except Tyler didn’t like my boss.”
You have:
“I am Joe’s Broken Heart because Tyler’s dumped me. Because my father dumped me. Oh, I could go on and on.”
You have, Tyler’s words in the mechanic’s mouth:
“"Your father was your model for God.
…
If you’re male and you’re Christian and living in America, your father is your model for God. And if you never know your father, if your father bails out or dies or is never at home, what do you believe about God?
…
What you end up doing … is you spend your life searching for a father and God.
What you have to consider … is the possibility that God doesn’t like you. Could be, God hates us. This is not the worst thing that can happen."
How Tyler saw it was that getting God’s attention for being bad was better than getting no attention at all. Maybe because God’s hate was better than His indifference.
If you could be either God’s worst enemy or nothing, which would you choose?
We are God’s middle children, according to Tyler Durden, with no special place in history and no special attention.
Unless we get God’s attention, we have no hope of damnation or Redemption.
Which is worse, hell or nothing?
Only if we’re caught and punished can we be saved.”
And we have Tyler using paraffin, so the narrator can be in Heaven, chided by God.
So like, what does it all mean?
A generation of men raised by women. His dad franchises, he’s not sure if another woman is really what we need. Men with no male models. Men with shit fucking fathers who are fighting them with impersonal proxies. Men who know they're destroying themselves because they have no constructive examples to follow because every single man just fails every son.
And that IS important. It's important to note there is misogyny in the fact that men demand male idols and refuse to even borrow women, but can I condemn them for the same thing I know matters to myself? Can I condemn them for wanting to see men who aren't shit, when I want to see women who aren't shit, when I want to see both not fucking failing their children? Shit fathers fuck over everyone, I don't think it's wrong to see that problem. It's classic male to say it by implying women are lesser, so fucking classic, but it IS true — they're in large part like this because men fucking fail everyone including each other and themselves. There is a gaping, wide fucking asshole where decent men should be, and they’re throwing fits about it rather than stepping up, but I think it’s notable that the narrator DID break the cycle. He’s not franchising.
And man, the Christian thing. Your father is your model for God because that is the point. Patriarchal religion serves a damn purpose. The father anoints himself as God, tells his children to have unbreakable faith, then disappears. What a shit fucking father. Isn’t disillusionment inevitable? When you can’t find him in his petty figures, not in your father, not in your boss?
Truth is, he says it twice. He likes his boss. As a person maybe. He’s around. But he’s absent too. He doesn’t give a shit. Just like his fucking father, he’s putting him in shit situations, telling him that’s just how it is, and expecting him to, what, be happy with it?
He likes his boss, but a part of him really wants to kill him. He likes his boss, but he begs his boss to do something, anything other than indifference. And he doesn’t. So the narrator invents his own boss, his own father, his own God, and he kills his boss, and he’d kill God and his father if they weren’t already practically dead and gone.
Dead and gone, even if they're there, he could beg them to care and they wouldn't. Society is set up for them to be the ultimate judgement, the hallmark by which you can measure yourself, the ruler for your fucking life, especially as a guy. And you get nothing. Indifference at best. Be the best son, disciple, worker you can, your boss God father doesn't give a shit. Self improvement isn't the answer. Wouldn't it be better, to know God, your father, your boss cared enough even if it's just to hate you?
Wouldn't it be great to track him down, tell God, "I am stupid and bored and weak, but I am still your responsibility."
He externalizes all that violence, it’s always Tyler who wants to kill his boss, who says he wants to be God’s enemy. And Tyler is his stand in boss father God, so just like the others, he leaves him. Even his fantasies can’t imagine better.
And honestly, yeah. Myself, I’ve got a pretty good dad. He loves me. He’s been around. I still hate his guts. He abuses my mom and I hate his fucking guts for it. If you asked my brothers, maybe they wouldn’t have that “but”. What he does to my mom is so baked into society that he may as well be a five star father. He’s not beating us. He’s still here. Can it really get better? I have friends that love their dads. But I don’t have any friends that love their dads that don’t have shit moms. When it’s not the choice between bad and worse. The bar is so low. What does that mean for us?
It’s so easy to point at all this and be disturbed and angry about this pathetic fucking white man letting his daddy issues result in terrorism, and like, yeah. But god, fucking everyone has daddy issues, and we shouldn’t. He’s right that it’s a problem. What to fucking do.
Fight Club sits as a “how to NOT deal with several major crippling problems in society,” obviously. But what are we doing to do? It’s not up to me, obviously. I’m not a man, father, not even someone who could raise her standards for the man she partners with, because I don’t do that shit. And hell, you raise your standards and men say you’re killing them and shoot up all the women in an engineering class because jobs are making them too uppity. So. It’s up to them, whether they decide that the fallout of having such a shit father means they should, I don’t know, change something. But as it is, father as God, boss as father is baked into society, the paternalism is extensive and everywhere. It’s baked in.
The narrator is a product of so many issues. A little clown car of a vehicle for them. I don’t really need to consciously think about what his upbringing and absent dad was like, because really, as he accurately assesses, “if his parents weren’t divorced, his father was never home, and here he’s looking at me with half my face clean shaved and half a leering bruise hidden in the dark. Blood shining on my lips. And maybe Walter’s thinking about a meatless, painfree potluck he went to last weekend or the ozone or the Earth’s desperate need to stop cruel product testing on animals, but he’s probably not.”
Most people, on an overwhelming scale, due to how the world is damn designed, do not need to consciously think about what his upbringing and absent dad was like, because damn if it’s not relevant even if your dad was home.
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