( 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]

[ The door closes, and his stomach churns. It's bad luck that he's being targeted despite not fitting any of the usual criteria. It's a demon that seeks out revenge against those who burned him alive, or so the legends go, and one who has no reason to go after an outsider. It's fine though, they just need to stay awake. They can leave this place soon. They'll go home and leave everything behind.

He just needs to stay awake until then. The door closes and he places his hand over his mouth, yawning loudly, his chin dipping. The sound of glass bursting startles him, causing him to jump, but within seconds he's blinking, tears forming in his eyes, chin drooping and raising until it finally comes to a stop against his collarbone.

...

...

His eyes snap open with a sharp breath, awareness returning to him, and he looks around to find himself in the same room. He must not have fallen asleep, but it seems too dangerous to leave himself dozing while Komaeda is gone. He lifts himself out of the chair with more ease than he should be able to. ]

[killed]

Hm? Oh, yes...

[ That was quick. He blinks, rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of them. He must have caught his second wind for the fog in his mind to have begun to clear. He presses the back of his hand against his cheek, then his forehead. His fever's cleared up. It's not that he's been sick, but the stress placed upon his body has begun to place a bit much stress on it.

He laughs softly as he sees Komaeda only half slipping into the door, though the sight makes something cold and foul crawl up his spine. Hiyori isn't all that unlike a cat, sensitive to small changes and always alert despite their predatory nature. ]

Ahaha... Is Komaeda-kun a vampire who can't come in until invited now? I'll have to decline if so.

[ He's teasing, but he will take a few cautious steps toward the door, not reaching out quite yet despite his eyes fixating on the bag. ]

What did you find? Dexamphetamine, methylphenidate, amphetamine or perhaps you found a dealer in the alley? This is the time of right night for them. ♪

[killed]

Ah... You're right, forgive me.

[ There's nothing wrong with it, but it's not quite what he would expect from the person who has been caring for him all this time, remaining close to him and hesitating to leave for fear that something might occur. For as hesitant as he is to enter the room, he does decide to err on the side of caution and not invite him in. One shouldn't invite trouble, as they say, and he can prevent the Ultimate Lucky Student from entering no more than he can can eldritch horror.

The scolding is is about right though. They're both too flippant in these situations, but only when it's them for it's nothing more than routine by now. If either one broke down every time something occurred, they wouldn't be able to handle the weight placed upon them. ]

Yes, I'm alright... I'm ashamed of how much trouble I've caused you as of late... Please allow me to make it up to you later.

[ How should he make it up to him later...? Komaeda would say to show him lots of hope, but he's not certain of how to do that. Perhaps he would settle for seeing the kinder side of his work, the one that has made him so beloved... For now he reaches out to take the bag tentatively. Komaeda is lucky, but the price for his luck is that others suffer. Hiyori hasn't often fallen victim to it, being quite lucky himself and compensating for the rest with a lifetime of paranoia and skill, rather narrowly avoiding accidents and being pulled into attempted kidnappings and all other manner of issues.

Really, he has to be more careful around him more than anyone. It would be best to inspect it for himself first. There's no telling what he might have grabbed, but at a glance it looks normal. The texture comes first. ]

Did you cut yourself? I can tend to that now. There should be a first aid kit here.

[killed]

[ A paranoid person, and an adult whose dealt with more than his fair share of death no less. Children are easy targets. They're simple and emotional, acting on whims and never quite thinking things through, but adults are far meaner - they recognize dreams for what they are, thinks to be manipulated and broken down, that those who live in them are meant to be squashed and crushed and torn apart for daring to go where they can't, or otherwise ripped into reality to havde their face smashed against the wall until there's nothing left but a red smear.

Hiyori has no dreams left to chase, but he still has nightmares often enough to have tired of them.

He flinches, hisses and bites his bottom lip to keep from outright screaming. His reflexive effort to yank his hand back bear no fruit, but when he blinks he finds it all to have just been his imagination. He frowns a little, knitting his brows as he puzzles through that. He shakes his head with a smile as he pulls his hand back, seeming a little embarrassed to have given such an odd display, even a little concerned as he looks back to his hand. ]

Ah... Are you quite certain? I think I would feel a fair bit better were you to try it with me but...

[ He blinks, chuckling and shaking his head. ]

... My mind really is a mess now, isn't it? Yes, of course you can... Thank you.

[killed]

[ "Drug addict" makes it sound so harsh. He's merely dependent on them for now, but it's true enough that he'll be caught and shunted into rehab soon enough. It's quite the predicament, and there's little chance of being able to handle it with the care required when he's going through withdrawl... He makes a note to do so while he still can. It's especially bad given that it's started to effect his mind, and that's to say nothing of the danger. His deals are for those celebrities such as himself, quality products with minimal risk, but there's always the risk of finding something untoward in there.

Too much to do, too little time... He looks down at the bag, unable to help salivate a little. He swallows it down. Patience is a virtue, and his attention need be squarely on the boy in front of him right now. ]

Of course! How could I say no...? ♡

[ He starts to lean in, but then pulls back suddenly, his hand pressed to his forehead and his breath shaking a little. His legs wobble a touch, and there's that same embarrassed smile. ]

Ahaha... I'm afraid I'm still a touch feverish. Would you be kind enough to find a bottle of aspirin as well...?

[killed]

[ He wonders if he's getting rusty, or if perhaps it's just being on even footing with another that's throwing him off. He doesn't like either option, but he tries to overcome his misgivings for now, instead offering a sigh of relief as he's finally left to his own devices. He looks around the room first, searching for the window. He finds it easily enough, as he's decided that it always existed - drugs melt the mind, but they also leave it far more flexible. It's small and it would be a bit of a squeeze, but he's tall enough to reach and could slip through easily enough.

Good, he has an escape route if he needs it. It's always best to secure one, no matter how much he might trust the other. He doesn't like that behavior one bit. Komaeda would never tell him he was forgiven, he would reject it and put himself down and act like an overbearing mother about the entire affair. It's part of why Hiyori loves him so much.

Ah, well, maybe it's just his imagination though. Komaeda has been under just as much stress after all, and he can't prove it either way. He looks around one more time to try and determine the safest space, and decides on a few steps away from the window, standing at an angle so that he can glance around easily. Then he breathes out a sigh of relief as he opens the bag, his hands trembling as he forces himself to calm down and avoid digging into it like some kind of common trash. He's too good for that, too refined - he can only imagine how he'd be scolded if he were not only taking it, but in such an careless and unsavory manner.

He opens it up slowly instead, taking a fair pinch of it between his fingers and rubbing it between to test the texture of it. He knows what pure drugs should feel like, and what it should taste like as he puts just a bit on his tongue. It's just the standard test, nothing unusual at all. ]

[killed]

[ Hiyori trusts his own judgment. His mind has been clouded by long days and nights, blurred and tampered with by drugs, but it's still in tact enough to trust his basic senses. Even if he couldn't, he's stable enough to be more inclined to make a mistake by being too cautious than suffer for an error. He spits on the floor to get the substance out his mouth, then a couple more times to ensure he'd removed the entire thing. There's a hint of red mixed in, a slight coppery taste in his mouth.

This is why he's careful about which dealers he goes to.

He sets the back in the trash, coating it with the remainder inside. It won't be noticed this way, and perhaps he'll get so lucky that the blood on the ground will be satisfactory proof that he's taken it. How unfortunate that he doesn't have the tools to mimic a raspy, torn up throat. ]

Komaeda-kun...?

[ He coughs, spitting out a little more blood. It had been just enough to cut his tongue. How disgusting. He supposes his joke about vampires is being followed up on. To open the window, or not to... Neither choice is very good. How unfortunate. ]

Are you quite alright?

[killed]

[ Of course it will be, but he's still following the rules of humans, and so long as he's convinced that his choices will have some impact then they're able to do so. He laughs, a nervous and irritable laugh as the ground starts to shake. It's going out the door and stepping into the jaws of a beast, or slipping out the window and falling into a bottomless pit.

Either way, he's being forced to move forward. This headache is what he gets for falling asleep. Should've done more coke, he thinks bitterly. ]

My, my... Did I cause some offense?

[ He sighs and shakes his head, and in the end he chooses the door for no reason other than to avoid being left hanging halfway out of a tiny window. He cracks it open, stepping to the side and reaching to the side as he does so to ensure he's not directly in front of the opening. His hand reaches to his side at the same time, moving beneath his jacket ]

[killed]

[ His way back in, leaving him only able to go forward. He takes the object he was grasping beneath his jacket out now, a sawed off shotgun. He holds it with both hands, clicking off the safety but leaving his hand on the trigger. The scenery is something out of a fantasy novel, and there's nothing more damaging to fantasy than a gun. It's the same as logic and facts and denial, a corrosion that eats away at the scene, bleeding out its color and burning through it to reveal the reality hidden behind it.

It's amazing what a useful tool a gun is, really. It can be used to cut through one's enemies, whether they be real or fictitious, and if that fails it can be pointed at oneself. Hiyori sleeps with one in his nightstand, locked away where his troublesome patient can't get at it; he has since he was still in high school to allow him to sleep at night. It's a steadfast belief that's protected him his entire life, one which tells him that no matter how insane the world might get, he'll never be trapped.

He remembers the rules, but he never had received the details of what one was supposed to do when confronted with doors, though all the other rules seemed to suggest moving forward. But then, it didn't suggest a way out either, though he's heard similar stories in which a second person was required to wake up the first.. But in the end, he'll get no where by standing here. He places his hand on the blue door, leaning in a little closer to see if he can hear anything inside. ]

[killed]

?

it's to protect him and his cute komaeda-kun of course!! ♡

[killed]

[ He compulsively rips his hand back once the door begins to grow too hot in the same way one might a hot stove, and it reaffirms his decision to approach with caution. Fire. It's a glance into a time long past, one in which a man was burned like a witch at the stake for his crimes. They were horrendous to be certain, but such vigilante justice rarely does any good. Still, it doesn't explain why he's been pulled into this entire affair. There should be no grudge held against him, as his family has no connection to this place, no intention of interfering with the plans of others. Komaeda's luck can't explain it away either - people, monsters, ghosts, whatever form one takes they rarely choose their targets without reason. What had he done, and where had he gone wrong? No answer comes to mind.

He wonders if Komaeda will wake him up. Perhaps the Ultimate Luck's fortunes will prove to be bad today, and he'll be tied up for longer and longer periods of time. But even that is fine so long as Hiyori pays attention.

The burning of flames, the clicking of knives, and it's as much a story as it is a warning and an attempt to intimidate. He takes in a breath and keeps himself calm rather than giving into any panic, observing his surroundings once more and finding a beautiful flower blooming next to him. It's as though it were specifically made for him, a plant that calls to him and encourages him to test fate by plucking it. It's tempting enough that his hand, uninjured but throbbing, starts to reach in it's direction as he leans over before he catches himself and snaps it back to his shotgun. It's a useful tool indeed, one that he needs both to handle, one that reminds him that he's always, always in danger. Everything is a threat, and he has not a single ally in this world any more than in the waking one.

He clutches it tighter, worsening the pain as his knuckles turn white, and turns on his heel to leave the scene behind him. If he plucks it, he'll never be rid of it. He has to keep moving forward, forward, ignoring everything and everyone that tries to move him off his path. ]

[killed]

[ Even flowers will wither and die if they're not given love and care, and it serves as a reminder of how little this place has for him. It's eerie, like watching members picked off as something creeps up behind him, but it makes the ones before him all the more mesmerizing. They're symbols of beauty and life which remind one of their own continued existence. They must smell as lovely as they look, if only he could pluck one, but his hands are full.

He feels a chill run up his spine as he hears the lullaby. It's a lullaby he's familiar with. It's a warning and a threat wrapped into one. Once bitten and twice shy, Hiyori has his misgivings about experimenting with another one. He clutches his gun tighter, not wanting to release it for fear that he'll act unwisely. He takes cautious steps forward until he stands before the purple door. It's warm and inviting, almost beckoning him to come in, so much so that he finds it altogether unpleasant.

Still, while he has no hope of escape he both has staying here might come with its own problems. He turns his head to look down the trail of the flower field in order to determine if a proper pathway can be seen in the distance, or if it's an endless stretch of field, and perhaps most importantly to see if he can see any figures in the distance. Once he's assessed that, he'll cautiously reach toward the handle to examine it. ]

[killed]

[ It's the perfect dream for him for how unassuming it is. Hiyori's world is full of red roses with vines that choke those who come too close as their thorns sink into skin, cotton candy and sweets that are stuffed into the mouths and eyes of corpses, but it all looks so wonderful and sweet until one peels back the illusion that protects them. His was ripped away long ago. There are no flowers, no sugary sweets, no lovely worlds that will offer him respite - everything is dangerous, everything is fatal, and he can trust no one but himself.

He should have dropped breadcrumbs, but if he had the birds would have eaten them. He can see the rotten truth hiding in here. If he looks down there's mutilated corpses fertilizing the flowers, if he looks up he can see the gouges and smears of blood on the wall, and when he views the white smoke that hides behind it a deathly cold. Perhaps something will yank him in and close the door. Wouldn't it be lovely if it were nothing more than a walk in freezer, one with a corpse that has a key hidden in it's stomach -- CUT HERE written along the dotted line so he knows where to find his treats?

Then it all fails to matter because the walls crush him for daring to feel a moment of relief. Never, he'll never do that, he'll never make the mistake of forgetting the knife at his back nor the gun pressed to his forehead. The only way to remove them would be to kill every last person who could threaten him.

Should he go back anyway? He frowns as he considers. When a person is lost, it's best to stay in one place, but that option was taken from him. The handle is frigid enough that he can't keep his grip on it for more than long enough than to crack the door open. Everything about it screams danger, and there's countless other options for him. He settles for brushing his fingertips against the handle again, taking a step back and to the side as he cautiously begins to pull it open.

He should check the time soon. That will tell him what to do next. ]