[ Is he a mistake? Hiyori can't answer that question, but there's a slight back and forth movement of his head that might pass as a no. It's difficult to think, but it seems like the right way to respond now. He must hear him though, even if he doesn't seem to be able to respond. The only thing that seems to rise to his mouth now is blood, and that weakness only seems to increase by the second.
There's another pained gasp of breath as Komaeda continues to dig the knife beneath his skin without caring for his wishes. This isn't what he wants. He wants to crawl into bed. He wants somebody to stroke his hair and tell him alright, that he's safe, that it was just a bad dream. It's not though and he's not, and those comforts he longs to have once more are replaced now with a soft and consoling kiss that he reciprocates. His eyes flicker into focus for just a few seconds, and he continues on in a pained murmur, ]
... P-please...
[ It hurts. He doesn't want to do this anymore. He doesn't want to be here. It's a pitiful sight, even when compared to before. It's proof that he's human, just as the red blood is, that he can be broken down and reduced to nothing but fear and pain and an awareness that he's barely hanging onto as easily as any other. His fingers twitch, trying to grip at Komaeda's shirt without finding any purchase. ]
Edited 2022-01-31 06:09 (UTC)
(deleted comment)
I'M SURE HE WILL PROBABLY he's just getting destroyed here, his punishment for being hopeless
[ The knife digs into his arm now, helping to undo the work he'd done elsewhere, each little dig drawing out another reaction from him. Perhaps the pain was keeping him aware, and perhaps he wouldn't die so long as it continued to be piled on. Hope is carved into his skin, it's ripped into his flesh and organs, and limbs, and this pain will remain with him until the moment of his death.
To say he was stitched up was generous, as he was only able to manage to get through just a couple of the ten gashes in his abdomen before he ran out of thread. Perhaps it was just as well, as he's too weak to do anything more. But those were the largest and worst of them. Blood spills out once more when they're removed, like a damn bursting, all the liquid that had been kept inside finally free to soak skin and clothes and items. There's no hope in these motions, not in the blood that spills forth, but certainly there could be in the cells that replace them. It could be brighter, more beautiful, more inspiring.
Another kiss, a weaker reciprocation, but it doesn't seem that he's able to respond to those words of love. It's strange, but with those stitches removed, the aches and pains vying for attention on different parts of his body seem to throb a little less. It's numb and cool, and he thinks he might sink into that feeling. If he were to do so, perhaps when his consciousness returned he would be better too.
Time marches on, his awareness barely lingers on, but it won't be long before an ambulance arrives to whisk both of them away. Just a little longer. ]
(deleted comment)
SIGH HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN IN KOMAEDA'S CLASS HE COULDA SAVED HIM
[ He hears the words, but it's as though he's listening to them from underwater. They're difficult to make out and . His arm hangs around Komaeda limply. It's like being held by a doll, but one that bleeds and cries each time a blade is traced along its surface. How many times has he been stabbed? How many pieces of him been carved out, cut and torn into so that they could be replaced with something else entirely? The blood in his veins, the skin on his body, his organs, would all be rebuilt with new cells and become something that they weren't before.
Hiyori is vaguely aware of the head nuzzling against him. He blinks slowly, his head lifting just slightly in response. He doesn't want to keep doing this, but he's cruelly forced to as he watches without immediately responding, but that hand comes up to part his mouth and the threat finally seems to reach him. ]
Komaeda...
[ There's no honorfic, but it's not clear that he's able to, as the raspy whisper that is his name comes out in drawn out parts. His arm shifts a little, moving a little more around him, but maybe that's just an effort to get away from the knife that's been used to pierce him. It doesn't matter, there's nothing he can do when his mouth is parted, and it would be easy to Komaeda to yank on his tongue and begin tearing through the muscle if he so chose.
He watchers with dim eyes, barely there but still awake. He's still listening.
The sound of sirens are in the distance, close but not close enough. They have a little more time together like this. ]
Edited 2022-01-31 08:23 (UTC)
(deleted comment)
SIGH LET THEM HAVE THEIR CUTE HIGH SCHOOL ROMANCE they'll "wake up" in yogen together
[ He doesn't want this to continue any longer. Hiyori doesn't want it to hurt any more than it already does, he doesn't want to feel it, he doesn't want to transfer it to another, he just wants it to be over. There's so much of him missing. He can only imagine the permanent damage that he would be left with. He was a director of ASUNARO, and so Hiyori would be allowed to live his life crippled no more than he would be allowed to die. He would be given treatment that no other would have access to. Komaeda could repeat this torture a dozen times and he would be patched up each time.
His mind protects him from the the knowledge of the long and agonizing recovery that awaits him after this, and if he were just a little bit weaker it would be able to protect him from what comes next in his current nightmare. He's too far gone to grip the knife properly, but Komaeda can guide his hand. It's love, a spouse supporting their ailing husband. There's a weak resistance as he tries to pull his hand away, but love can overcome that well enough for the knife to press against Komaeda's chest. Hiyori would describe it as such without a doubt were he holding the knife - an endless love, deeper than the ocean, between two people that allowed one to overcome any hardship.
Love is a reason to live, it's a reason to kill, to help and hurt, and it's a reason to ignore the every want of your beloved for their own good. Isn't that why people marry? To support in sickness and in health? Hiyori is ill. He lacks hope and despair alike, he lives a life free of any concerns at all, and now his body is failing him just as readily. His breaths are slow and shallow, and they'll stop the moment he lets the room fade into darkness. But that might be fine, because once a person exchanges vows they've already fulfilled their purpose in life, and a knife can be used as well as a ring to complete that exchange.
There's a little hitch, a shake of his chest that might be an attempt at a sob. Komaeda, or himself? If he were of sound mind, he would never choose the latter. He was too strong, too aware of his own worth to accept damage to his body. He would sacrifice anyone, sacrifice anything, in order to achieve his goals and reach those heights he wants to. But he's not. He understands that this is a vow, a promise of love, and that this pain won't stop, and nothing more, so what comes out instead is the exact opposite of his desires, ]
Myself...
[ His voice is weak enough that it's barely audible, and any third party would be able to recognize that he's not capable of understanding what he's agreeing to. It's just habit that leads him to choose himself, just as he always does and always will. ]
(deleted comment)
SIGH FINE I KNOW NEITHER OF THESE GUYS ARE GOING TO DIE THEY GOTTA CUDDLE IN THE HOSPITAL
[ He flinches back as the knife tears through fabric and pricks his skin. His vision is starting to fade, even those blurred shapes in the room seem to be slowly fading away, but he can see the look on Komaeda's face. There's another effort at pulling his hand away, but the movement is too small to be noticed, and his free hand lifts before dropping down. How much blood has he lost? The next stab would certainly be the last. Every part of his body, from top to bottom, will have been claimed and damaged by the person before him.
There's a flicker of fear in his eyes as the knife is pulled back, and Hiyori tries to push himself back into the bed, but that effort has no more weight to it than attempting to raise his arm did, and his chest feels like it's on fire as the blade sinks into it and is quickly ripped out. There's a sharp gasp, and his eyes widen just briefly before looking more lifeless than ever, but he has no choice but to watch as Komaeda guides his hand and completes their vows by shoving it deep into is chest.
Komaeda is next, and he can only stare as he falls against him. In the distance, he can hear the sound of his front door breaking open with a slam and hurried footsteps. Hiyori can't move well, his body is too weak for that, so he can't even pull the knife out. He manages to finally lift his arm though, settling it around his waist and dipping his head to let his forehead rest against him, and he returns that I do without really knowing what he's saying, just that he should, just that it's important that he does - some bit of stored knowledge telling him to.
He manages to say Komaeda's name just once more as he hears the approaching footsteps, the handle to his door turning and slamming open moments later, but by then the world has already gone dark and his body fallen limp. ]
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STOOOOPPP maybe i'll give him hope after this
There's another pained gasp of breath as Komaeda continues to dig the knife beneath his skin without caring for his wishes. This isn't what he wants. He wants to crawl into bed. He wants somebody to stroke his hair and tell him alright, that he's safe, that it was just a bad dream. It's not though and he's not, and those comforts he longs to have once more are replaced now with a soft and consoling kiss that he reciprocates. His eyes flicker into focus for just a few seconds, and he continues on in a pained murmur, ]
... P-please...
[ It hurts. He doesn't want to do this anymore. He doesn't want to be here. It's a pitiful sight, even when compared to before. It's proof that he's human, just as the red blood is, that he can be broken down and reduced to nothing but fear and pain and an awareness that he's barely hanging onto as easily as any other. His fingers twitch, trying to grip at Komaeda's shirt without finding any purchase. ]
I'M SURE HE WILL PROBABLY he's just getting destroyed here, his punishment for being hopeless
To say he was stitched up was generous, as he was only able to manage to get through just a couple of the ten gashes in his abdomen before he ran out of thread. Perhaps it was just as well, as he's too weak to do anything more. But those were the largest and worst of them. Blood spills out once more when they're removed, like a damn bursting, all the liquid that had been kept inside finally free to soak skin and clothes and items. There's no hope in these motions, not in the blood that spills forth, but certainly there could be in the cells that replace them. It could be brighter, more beautiful, more inspiring.
Another kiss, a weaker reciprocation, but it doesn't seem that he's able to respond to those words of love. It's strange, but with those stitches removed, the aches and pains vying for attention on different parts of his body seem to throb a little less. It's numb and cool, and he thinks he might sink into that feeling. If he were to do so, perhaps when his consciousness returned he would be better too.
Time marches on, his awareness barely lingers on, but it won't be long before an ambulance arrives to whisk both of them away. Just a little longer. ]
SIGH HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN IN KOMAEDA'S CLASS HE COULDA SAVED HIM
Hiyori is vaguely aware of the head nuzzling against him. He blinks slowly, his head lifting just slightly in response. He doesn't want to keep doing this, but he's cruelly forced to as he watches without immediately responding, but that hand comes up to part his mouth and the threat finally seems to reach him. ]
Komaeda...
[ There's no honorfic, but it's not clear that he's able to, as the raspy whisper that is his name comes out in drawn out parts. His arm shifts a little, moving a little more around him, but maybe that's just an effort to get away from the knife that's been used to pierce him. It doesn't matter, there's nothing he can do when his mouth is parted, and it would be easy to Komaeda to yank on his tongue and begin tearing through the muscle if he so chose.
He watchers with dim eyes, barely there but still awake. He's still listening.
The sound of sirens are in the distance, close but not close enough. They have a little more time together like this. ]
SIGH LET THEM HAVE THEIR CUTE HIGH SCHOOL ROMANCE they'll "wake up" in yogen together
His mind protects him from the the knowledge of the long and agonizing recovery that awaits him after this, and if he were just a little bit weaker it would be able to protect him from what comes next in his current nightmare. He's too far gone to grip the knife properly, but Komaeda can guide his hand. It's love, a spouse supporting their ailing husband. There's a weak resistance as he tries to pull his hand away, but love can overcome that well enough for the knife to press against Komaeda's chest. Hiyori would describe it as such without a doubt were he holding the knife - an endless love, deeper than the ocean, between two people that allowed one to overcome any hardship.
Love is a reason to live, it's a reason to kill, to help and hurt, and it's a reason to ignore the every want of your beloved for their own good. Isn't that why people marry? To support in sickness and in health? Hiyori is ill. He lacks hope and despair alike, he lives a life free of any concerns at all, and now his body is failing him just as readily. His breaths are slow and shallow, and they'll stop the moment he lets the room fade into darkness. But that might be fine, because once a person exchanges vows they've already fulfilled their purpose in life, and a knife can be used as well as a ring to complete that exchange.
There's a little hitch, a shake of his chest that might be an attempt at a sob. Komaeda, or himself? If he were of sound mind, he would never choose the latter. He was too strong, too aware of his own worth to accept damage to his body. He would sacrifice anyone, sacrifice anything, in order to achieve his goals and reach those heights he wants to. But he's not. He understands that this is a vow, a promise of love, and that this pain won't stop, and nothing more, so what comes out instead is the exact opposite of his desires, ]
Myself...
[ His voice is weak enough that it's barely audible, and any third party would be able to recognize that he's not capable of understanding what he's agreeing to. It's just habit that leads him to choose himself, just as he always does and always will. ]
SIGH FINE I KNOW NEITHER OF THESE GUYS ARE GOING TO DIE THEY GOTTA CUDDLE IN THE HOSPITAL
There's a flicker of fear in his eyes as the knife is pulled back, and Hiyori tries to push himself back into the bed, but that effort has no more weight to it than attempting to raise his arm did, and his chest feels like it's on fire as the blade sinks into it and is quickly ripped out. There's a sharp gasp, and his eyes widen just briefly before looking more lifeless than ever, but he has no choice but to watch as Komaeda guides his hand and completes their vows by shoving it deep into is chest.
Komaeda is next, and he can only stare as he falls against him. In the distance, he can hear the sound of his front door breaking open with a slam and hurried footsteps. Hiyori can't move well, his body is too weak for that, so he can't even pull the knife out. He manages to finally lift his arm though, settling it around his waist and dipping his head to let his forehead rest against him, and he returns that I do without really knowing what he's saying, just that he should, just that it's important that he does - some bit of stored knowledge telling him to.
He manages to say Komaeda's name just once more as he hears the approaching footsteps, the handle to his door turning and slamming open moments later, but by then the world has already gone dark and his body fallen limp. ]