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( closed to @luck ) your turn to die: sou hiyori
With varying vanities, from every part, they shift the moving toyshop of their heart.
With varying vanities, from every part, they shift the moving toyshop of their heart.
With varying vanities, from every part, they shift the moving toyshop of their heart.
roll: 18
It's your choice, Komaeda-kun.
[ These words, too, could almost be seen as reflexive by now. No matter how many offers he makes, no matter what the subject, so long as there's no reason for him to intervene it's nothing more than a choice to make. It's hitting a form in the road and deciding which path to go down, but no matter how many times he's asked, his fear of the unknown means that he can only start down without so much as glancing at the others.
It's his choice, and so that path is left closed off, and Hiyori instead follows along behind him. ]
I love you too, and so you can cause me no trouble. Everything I do is out of love.
[ He brushes his hair out of his face before covering his mouth once more, coughing into his hand. It's no trouble him to talk, despite how much his nurse fussed over the mere thought of a patient doing so, but the attempts at movement will do him no favors. He needs to keep still, and how frustrating that is.
It looks like he's still trying to escape. The smile fades briefly before he replaces it. ]
... What do you think I want from you, Komaeda-kun? Tell me... What is it that worries you so?
roll: 6 / 17
No matter what he says, it's always in one ear and out the other. It's why Hiyori can tell him that he has no love in those moments when perfect honesty takes him. He has no love to give, he accepts none that's given to him, and so he remains empty. ]
... I really hate... When people look down on me...
[ Ignoring his choices and attempting to force his hand, treating every word he says as a lie, dismissing his every thought - what can that be called if not patronizing? There were those who had done it in his youth too, but he had succeeded where they failed in the end.
It must hit the same nerve, as one of the few things that seems to wear at the surgeon's patience is having decisions made for him, comments made about what they wrongly believe is best for him - none know save him, because they're all trash when compared to him. They only have value because he so decides it, and he no more trusts their values even less than he would trust the judgment of a particularly dumb mutt.
But those cruel thoughts are only in his head, showing on neither his face nor in his words, but just a hint of sharpness that cuts through the drugs as he continues, ]
There's no one capable of ruining my life... I won't let anyone...
[ Because he's Sou Hiyori, perfect, capable of anything, and there's the sudden awareness of his own helplessness that wasn't there before - useless, pathetic, incapable, at the mercy of others who will cut and rend and grab and tear and steal everything he has - those thoughts that should be repressed by heavy painkillers leak through for just long enough for the panic to set in once more, that sickening awareness that causes his hand to slam back down and grab a fistful of sheets.
Apparently he doesn't need to ujse Komaeda to ruin his life either, because he does manage to get himself halfway up, not quite sitting straight but enough most people might describe it as some variation of up, before pausing to draw in a gasping breath. But what was stirred up isn't deep and insightful, but something instinctive, carefully nurtured for his entire life, brought to the front in center in a violent way during his school days, and so he still believes that this is both doable and necessary.
Komaeda should probably move quick so he doesn't have to deal with whatever's going to happen if he rolls that high again. ]
no subject
It was Hope's Peak that had poisoned them. It was the way they milled around without rhyme or reason, with classes nothing more than decoration, and despite being the best at what they did at some point he could begin to reach his level. He worked three times as hard, four times as hard, studied everything and anything, spent hours upon hours ensuring his success. As reticent as he was to join their ranks, he needed to be perfect for that place, for ASUNARO.
But who else was? Who else tried to be? He needed to be better than all of them, but their minds were just rotting away. The world was rotting away under the care of these future leaders. The school would collapse, and other places would follow suit, and before long it would be empty.
He fixed them. He sucked out the venom that poisoned them, ripped open an old wound and broke the healed bone for the same of healing them properly.
That old emotional tear reopens itself now, but it no longer oozes out a black substance. It's a bright red, the color of life and love and death alike that paints over the dull gray that makes up the world. Red, spit up into his hand as he manages to pull himself up in order to start coughing more violently now, followed by the sound of dry heaving before more coats his palm. It drips down the corner of his mouth. He swallows down blood that he knows will come back up at some point.
Red stains upon a gray, unchanging world, that should have paved the way for something better. It only hurts once, and all those pains that haunted him during that final year can no longer haven't once touched him since.
It's unseemly to get so agitated over nothing. The world blurs and spins, vertigo setting in. ]
This is why I didn't want to entrust your care to anyone else...[ Cough, cough. ] You're always so difficult.
[ He shudders, taking in a gasping breath. He manages to rest his arm on the guardrail, clenching it tightly enough that his knuckles turn white, smearing it with red blood. ]
What are you doing? Acting so recklessly... You're going to agitate your injuries, and then you'll wind up with a longer stay. If you fall, you'll crack your skull open - pass out in the vents, and how am I supposed to help you then? I want what's best for you.
[ He has to push himself harder. He has to work even harder. Just this much isn't enough. Those same thoughts on a loop for as long as he can remember, compounded for every minute he spent aware of his situation.
It would probably be ill-advised for him to go any further than this. ]
roll: 11
If he were to become something, he would wish it to be something better than those gods who have forgotten themselves. But he can't wish for that now, no more than anything else, as he's still tethered to his frail human body. Komaeda cups his face in his hands, and Hiyori stares back with glassy eyes. The drugs leave him blissfully ignorant of the amount of pain he's in, but the growing discomfort isn't lost. His body trembles, and he shivers as his tongue laps up the blood.
Held in place by hands that cool his warm skin, there's a soft sound as their lips meet, and the kiss his returns as his eyelids lower. Blood passes from one to another, pumped out by his beating heart, and what a romantic affair it is.
He is no god, and he is no treasure, but one who demands to be respected and adored all the same. He focuses his every effort on creating and maintaining an air of perfection. He's done it for so many years that he can get away with chasing after patients on the occasion, with acting recklessly and causing harm to others and of all of those things that few others can hope to do without consequence. This is no different, as he'll make every effort to see it forgiven, though he can't quite make sense of the words being spoken to him.
It does, however, occur to him that his patient must have torn something with that fall of his. It's funny what the human mind chooses to focus on at times like these. ]
You're going to be placed in a separate room...
[ He murmurs, sounding disappointed, by way of saying that Komaeda won't be seeing much of anything from him. He'll no doubt be cut off from having any visitors after this, kept asleep most of the time and with a head too cloudy to function for the remainder, but how lonely is it! It would bring him comfort to at least hear a voice, or feel the touch of a hand, or see a smile.
They should call the nurse. His stitches will need to be redone. ]
no subject
He won't be allowed visitors, he thinks before it occurs to him that he's referring to sneaking in using the window or other unconventional methods. None of those risky efforts are ones that he can allow, but it's difficult to answer when he's busy using his mouth to return those soft kisses. His wandering hand goes unnoticed, and instead Hiyori's eyes droop.
It's a nice offer, but not one that can accept. Shivers run down his spine as they kiss again, or perhaps it's a shudder from him growing weaker. He's trying to accomplish something, but it's difficult to discern what in his current state. He just wants to kiss him more, to enjoy the sensation of their lips pressing against each other and to feel the other's breath on him - over and over, until he's finally satisfied.
He just has to say so... ]
If they'll allow it, but... You shouldn't do anything reckless... You'll get hurt, and I'll worry...
[ He murmurs against his lips before closing his eyes once more as his chin is held in place. He parts his lips to invite him in, tilting his head just slightly as he continues. It's distracting, and he can't think straight, but the thought of stopping doesn't occur to him either. ]
no subject
But those increasingly passionate kisses cut off his every objection, his mind incapable of focusing on more than just one thing, until he hears the beep of the nurse's call button. His eyes open wide and flick to the side, and the cry of pain that escapes him is no doubt enough to tell of his circumstances. There isn't much that can cut through the heavy painkillers he's on.
Every kiss shared between them is the perfect one, and the pain fades quickly, something that he attributes to the tongue that slips into his rather than drugs. Their tongues mingle together as Hiyori's tongue slides under that of the younger ultimate. He wants to taste more of him, to feel more of him, and it's with that desire in mind that he makes the mistake of letting his grip on the guardrail loosens.
Some part of him had understood that it would end too quickly once the button was pressed, but his fading mind couldn't accept it. He's forced to once Komaeda pulls away, and he flops back onto the bed with a grunt. His breathing heavy, his body trembling, and there's a bit of drool mixed with the blood that had pooled at the corner of his mouth. There's red stains beneath the sheets, and the world seems to spin and warp before him.
They'll be separated, he'll be deprived of any visitors, but not due to his reckless behavior. If only Komaeda were more considerate...
...
... ]