“ am i harassing you, kurusu? “
he waits, sits there, hands folded atop finished wood, and his fingers almost quake. was that his intention? to drive the other away? eyes watch the thief’s fingers, almost reverently.
“ ... if i could do that, do you really think i would be coming to you, of all people? “
does he really want to die? or does he just want the salvation that comes from such an act, the subjugation of guilt, of crime. the subjugation of him and all that he is. he swallows almost as if he has a lump in his throat.
“ if i could kill myself with my own hands, if i wasn’t too goddamn scared of what’s waiting for me on the other side,”
surely hell,
“ i would have done it by now. i would have done it a thousand times over. but i can’t, and i am. so now i’m here, begging you, to just... “
to end it. to make him stop. he hates the monster he’s become a wolf in sheep’s clothing, no better than his father and only serving him and his wishes. he averts his eyes, moves to stand.
“ ... i should be going. “
