( closed to @luck ) your turn to die: sou hiyori

[killed]

With varying vanities, from every part, they shift the moving toyshop of their heart.

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[killed]

[ He can't remember when he first started thinking this way. It's as natural as breathing to him. But he had existed in a state of stasis for so long, understanding the dangers of the world without concerning himself with the environment around him.

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

[killed]

[ Gods are nothing more than human with supernatural abilities. They watch over the human world while touching it in various ways, demanding worship and adoration, all while they play at their own little dramatics and embody every flaw that's present in humanity. They're barely above them when moving the sun and the moon and bringing the rain are to them what menial work for payment is to a human being. Frivolous, lazy, dramatic, petty, - there are few gods worth noting, and they tend to be bound by love as any other.

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. ]

[killed]

[ The moment Komaeda pulls away he'll no doubt fall back, unable to support his own weight, and lose consciousness shortly thereafter. There's sweat beading on his forehead from the strain, but he manages to keep himself propped up. It's not his fault that the other acts in such a reckless manner, nor that he should try to stop it, albeit his current condition could be said to be a result of his own carelessness.

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. ]

[killed]

[ There's nothing reckless about it, but even if there were, no one should have the right to criticize him. Everything he's done here is correct, every choice he's made the right one, and it's not his fault that Komaeda can't see the truth of that.

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...

...

... ]