"After all what?”
Midousuji’s pupils constricted, now staring at the green haired male before him with an intensity resembling that of daggers. He knew what Makishima was talking about, but every mention of the race just brought back painful and bitter memories. A frown was visible behind his mask.
"Do not remind me of my failure. Lest I assume you only wish to secretly rub it in through a curtain of ‘concern’." He narrowed his eyes, before leaning back once more. "That failure is a thing of the past, I just need to keep moving forward. I will not let a few zaku continue to pull me back into the memories. Memories that make me want to vomit." A few spindly fingers ran through his hair, pupils slowly dilating back to their usual size.
”..Yes.. moving forward.”
For a moment, his hand gripped at his hair, tight enough to almost risk ripping it right out. He was sickly tempted to make a scene, a scene just like he always seemed to make. But ..out in the public masses was slightly different. Out in the racing field? Sure, he would act as wild as he wanted. It was the perfect intimidation technique. But not here, not now. ..Besides, he hadn’t the strength to push himself up and go on a monologuing rampage.
His hand loosened.
"…. How do YOU move forward? Or do you cling onto memories like an attached child to it’s mother?"
Makishima couldn't help but flinch at the dramatic change in atmosphere. Now he'd done it. He made Midousuji mad. This was it, no going back. Or so he thought. Makishima thought best to let Midousuji get his steam out and he himself kept quiet.
After everything was said, Makishima sighed and leaned on the table a bit. "How do I move forward? I take a look at what caused me all the pain and force myself not to make that mistake again. If a person caused me all that, I would let them go and stay away from them. There's always going to be ups and down, but you can't let that drag you down."
