嘘つき @shroudedhomicide - Tumblr Blog

@browneyed-gemini

Almost silent sniffles could be heard from the room of the brunet’s daughter, causing him to pause at the door. For a moment he hesitates, for Usoma was never good at handling tears... Alas, his parental instincts trump all hesitation, his body taking no time in turning the knob, slipping in, and closing the door behind him. His concern merely evident in the slight scrunch of eyebrows and almost imperceptible frown.

“Hanako... What’s wrong?”

#browneyedgemini

manslaughtcr:

It’s true, there’s no way that Killian can successfully play it off as if nothing was wrong. He was sitting in front of a piano, sobbing; there was nothing okay about that. He sighs, attempting to wipe his eyes again. ❝ I’m just so… sick and tired of this feeling, Uso… ❞ Did he really expect Usoma to know what he was talking about? He was like the King of being vague.

❝ I conditioned myself to stop caring about other people because it made the things I did easier; it made it so that I didn’t have to think about others and how they would react or how they would think of me. ❞ Where was he even going with this? ❝ And then he comes along and he shows me genuine kindness that no ones ever shown me and it ruined everything. ❞ He doesn’t say a name because at this point he’s sure that Usoma knows who he’s talking about. ❝ and now everything I do, every fuck up I made I feel disgusting because there’s someone who cares about me now. ❞ Or cared seeing as things weren’t going very well right now. ❝ and I don’t know how to deal with these feelings I just want them to stop; I want it all to just stop. ❞

“I get it.” Usoma knew the feeling all to well, evident in the times where he couldn’t move, couldn’t eat, couldn’t live because of these stupid emotions that anchored him down. Things were much easier in the past, where he didn’t care about the well being of others. Now that he had people he cared for, who hopefully cared back, not only did he have to deal with the withdrawals, he also could not help but endure this ever present hatred for himself, a disgusting feeling in it’s own right.

Hands started to pay less attention to white strands, instead lightly opening and closing his hands, applying pressure on the scalp. A massage of some sort.

“... It’s very overwhelming, sometimes I catch myself thinking it sucks too. Sometimes I want to run, to just erase all these emotions once more, because it would be so easy to live again if I did. Though there are those moments that make it all worth it, don’t you think?”

Hands stilled the moment after he speaks, he nudges Killian, wanting to sit on the piano bench as well. “Move over.”

#manslaughtcr #shhhhhh #n o one gotta die bby shh #but um coughcough just sayin #if you wanted someone dead #i think i know someone who can d o it #wink wonk

manslaughtcr:

❝ Y-Yeah, my parents taught me when I was really young and I u-used to do competitions. ❞ He shuddered at the thought; he had always hated the competitions but it was always worth it so see his little brother proud of him when he’d win.

He slumps against Usoma, tears continuing to fall. He hadn’t meant to cry; he wasn’t even entirely sure why he was crying. The tears had just started to fall and now it seems as though they didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. ❝ T-There’s nothing to talk about, Uso… I’m fine… ❞ Even though he clearly wasn’t, his stubbornness still stood strong.

“Cut the crap, look at the position we’re in. Do you honestly think I can just pretend that there’s nothing to talk about?”

Despite his harsh words, fingers did not cease from stroking soft white hair, trying his best to comfort Killian.

“I’m neither stupid nor considerate enough to let you stay silent this time... I promise whatever you say will never leave this room, so just say it already.”

#manslaughtcr #HE DONT KNOW WHAT TO D O HE JUST WANNA KNOW WHAT GOING ON

browneyed-gemini:

All Houtarou could discern from his parent was a self serving plea. Selfish, it was still incredibly selfish. Lying to his children, and going so far as to leave them behind to fulfill his impulses; only apologizing when confronted with an ultimatum from his eldest. How could the man fabricate guilt, and still continue to meet his son’s widespread hostility ?

The boy wouldn’t allow this.

“Save it. The only thing I wanted to know was if you were a killer. I’m not looking for a Hallmark moment.”

Disgruntled, he averts honeyed amber away from the familiar stranger, and had crossed his arms above his knees before drawing them towards his chest— thus, ignoring the sharp pangs his father had prod into his chest. Had he felt nothing for the begetter, their barbaric lifestyle wouldn’t have unnerved the child.

But it was Usoma’s duty to sacrifice his worldly desires for his family, and having heard him excuse the homicide of another being–as if it were the same as abusing alcohol or narcotics– did nothing but persuade the brunette to further distance himself.

“You don’t care about Dad, Hanako, or me ! You’re just another fuckin’ addict, so hold your tongue.”

A spark of frustration shot through his body, the idea of being told that he didn’t care about the family that he suffers every moth for was straight up infuriating. Though the only evidence of such a feeling was the slight twitch on his pursed lips. Even now, he refused to raise his voice.

“You know that’s not true, don’t trivialize my feelings. I did this so you can live normally.” In a way, they were his saviors, though he didn’t say it aloud, feeling like his son would not believe him anyway.

“And just another addict, really? If only it was simple addiction, if only it was something that was possible to just go cold turkey, deal with symptoms like not sleeping, barely eating, maybe feeling a little depressed. If it was a simple addiction, I could've gone out and get help, maybe rehabilitate, but it isn’t just that. Sure, you’ve seen me suffer a little, maybe throw up a little, have trouble standing, before having to leave, but you know nothing of what it’s really like. Who would want to leave the people they loved just to stay at a shitty apartment so to ensure that they wont die? who would want to not eat for days, not sleep for days, force yourself to drink water so you don’t die just to throw it up later, be so weak you can’t even stand, being so weak that you have to focus just to breathe.”

He sighed, “I’ve been trying for years to stop, even before you were born. I don’t want to kill people, you have no idea how many times I’ve almost died, how many times I thought I died, just so a person could live for one more day, I have the scars to prove it. “ As Usoma spoke the last sentence, his finger traced the most memorable scar he had, starting from the the middle of his chest, straight down to the bottom of his torso, the one from when things got so bad, he mindlessly cut himself open.

#browneyedgemini

manslaughtcr:

Killian doesn’t stop playing, even when he hears Usoma singing. No, instead it inspires him to keep going, getting more and more into the song as it goes on. By the time the song is nearing it’s end he’s passionately pressing onto the keys and he’s singing loudly along with Uso.

Once the song is over his hands fall to his side and he just sits there, slightly out of breath and filled with too many emotions all mixed into one. Before he knows it, he feels the wetness of tears sliding down his face and he tries his best to hide it from Usoma. He wipes his tears onto the back of his hands and tries to sniffle quietly. ❝ I… I didn’t know you c-could sing… ❞ His voice shaky from the emotion.

The brunet had heard the sniffles, the sound of cooking completely diminished, no longer masking Killian’s sadness. He had silently crept over, lowering the piano cover, so that he could lean against it. Usoma hesitantly places his upon Killian’s head, stroking alabaster strands almost nonchalantly.

“I didn’t know you could play.”

Maybe it was out of consideration for the other man, but the brunet didn’t look at the other as he cried, simply doing his best to reassure the other, one stroke at a time.

“If you want to, you can tell me about it. I could even pretend this conversation did happen after, if it’ll make you feel better.”

#u so is trying his b est to comfort little smol #manslaughtcr

manslaughtcr:

Without hesitation he’s taking a seat on the bench, fingers hovering over the piano keys. Killian was struck with sudden fear, it had been a long time since he’d played in front of another person; what if Usoma laughed at him? What if he cried? What if he just embarrassed himself?

He sits there for a moment, taking deep breaths to calm himself. After what felt like a lifetime he places his fingers down, pressing a few keys before getting a rhythm going. Once he’d practice a bit he moved onto playing an actual song; the first chords nice and soft.

He debates whether or not to sing along but gives in, in the end. ❝ ♫ I’m sorry, I can’t make your party, I’ll be busy burning … ♫ ❞

As melodious noises privileged the air, the brunet tried to be as quiet as possible as he sliced up the garlic and set that aside, mixing various ingredients, before moving on the the beef he had been thawing out, seasoning it.

He found himself humming along to the other’s words, towards the end he could not help but to eventually join in, full on singing as he added the meat to the pan, letting cook, cutting and plating it to completion.

“ And I see pictures now, of the two of you, and it makes me sick... Damn I love...”

#yaaass #c ry bitch #manslaughtcr

manslaughtcr:

Killian watches as Uso just takes control of his kitchen but he doesn’t object. Instead he sits at the counter, watching Killian. He still doesn’t talk though, not sure what to say at this point. He was mixed with so many emotions that he wasn’t sure how to deal with any of them so it was easier to just not feel anything.

His eyes wander to the piano in the other room; it had been a long time since he’d touched it that there was visible dust forming on it. He pushed himself away from the counter and makes his way to the piano, running a finger through the dust before turning back to Uso. ❝ Do… do you want me to play you something? ❞

An encouraging smile adorns his face. “Go for it.”

Evergreens glance at the piano, then back at Killian’s face. “As long as you don’t mind me listening...”

The brunet was already going for the other ingredients, unable to contain his actions any longer.

#manslaughtcr

manslaughtcr:

Killian sighs, not really wanting to deal with this right now but he nods his head. ❝ Sure, why not. ❞ He turns on his heels, heading towards his house, hands shoved in his pocket. He doesn’t say anything to Uso on his way there, just wanting to be left alone. ❝ Here we are… home sweet home… ❞ He’s standing in front of an apartment, expressionless.

The silence was not unwelcome, as the brunet didn’t know what to say anyway. The brunet shamelessly walked in, immediately looking for the kitchen, he had some steam to let off. He finds his destination, going directly for the cabinets and the fridge.

Despite his actions he asked, “Is your kitchen fully stocked?”

Though there was no point in asking anymore, as he was already taking a slab of meat out of the freezer, putting it in a bowl of water to thaw.

“It’s gonna take a while for me to finish making lunch, so you could just go do whatever...”

Maybe the brunet would have felt bad just barging into the kitchen, using it without so much a word of permission, but right now he couldn’t care less. He just had too much on his mind, his hands already itching to create something.

#manslaughtcr

manslaughtcr:

❝ Why would I be embarrassed? Like you said, you’ve already seen it all. ❞ Killian was just done with everything at this point. ❝ I said no! I’m fine, there’s nothing to see ❞ Killian is honestly the poster child for being a whiny baby, Uso should know that by now.

At this point, the brunet would’ve probably decked the other in the stomach, as he was not in a good mood. Fortunately, he was exhausted, and so just sighed, deciding to just drop it, probably going to bring it up later.

“Fine then, you baby.” He paused for a moment, before speaking once more.

“Ne, you know after all this time, I’ve never been to your home? Why don’t we go there now?”

#manslaughtcr

manslaughtcr:

❝ Yeah, you’re right but I’m sick of it now. It’s like I can’t do anything fun anymore without some kind of repercussions; it’s stupid. ❞ He’s just venting at this point, nothing serious. ❝ Oi! I’m fine. ❞ He’s swatting Uso’s hands away, trying to get some distance from him. ❝ I patched myself up, I don’t need anyone’s help. ❞ There’s a punch to his words, like he’s trying to hurt someone but he doesn’t know why.

Oh Killian, Usoma is the poster child of ‘sticks and stone may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’. It’s futile to try and shoo him away with talking.

“What’s wrong with trying to see how bad it is?... Unless you’re embarrassed?”

A little chuckle escaped his lips. “You know I’ve seen all your scars already, right? Quit being a whiny baby and let me see!”

#manslaughtcr

@manslaughtcr | Continued [x]

The brunet rubbed his arm for a moment. “Oh please, like there was ever a time like that...” He pressed his index finger to his mouth, which had curled into a smile, a little hint at their own secrets, ne?

He cocked his head, “So, how bad’s the damage? Lemme see.” Regardless of what other would do, he was already lifting Killian’s shirt a little, just to inspect the bandages.

#manslaughtcr

browneyed-gemini:

“Then I’d ask why you picked your own worldly desires over a family that depends on you—”

“And only from there, would I have an answer.”

Houtarou incisively responds, bearing knuckle into the floorboard. Honey browns, once puled with unfathomable rage, had glazed over with languor. Although tousled ebony spire had curtained such innervated features, the twitch of chapped lips had further unmasked his discontent.

Who would ever wish to be the son of a heinous murderer ? Waiting for their father to come home and share stories of their most recent conquest, to help wipe his bloodied slate, and risk themselves to keep their misdeeds hidden from suspicion ? T’was a fool’s conduct. He knew this well, by simply watching as his childhood had unfold beneath his feet– and submerge him in waves of violent turmoil.

In face of this, he must continue to press on.

“Tell me, are you selfish enough to lie to your own child to protect your reputation ?”

Should he lie? The brunet purses his lips almost imperceptibly so. No, no, that would only make the hole deeper, wouldn't it?

And yet he refused to answer, obviously stalling the inevitable. He knew he should say something, anything, but words halted at his throat, stagnant behind a barrier of fear. And so there was a moment of suffocating silence before low baritones filled the air, trying to desperately to mask its quiver.

"To protect my reputation? No." Sure, maybe subconsciously that was part of the reason, but really it was such a minuscule part of his answer, honestly that hadn't crossed his mind at all.

"Tell me, would you have been able to live normally knowing that your father so selfishly takes lives in order to keep his? And what if I got caught? Do you think I could live knowing that my own kids would probably also be prosecuted as an accessory to my actions? Would you be okay with spending years of your life rotting away, just because you knew of what I did?"

There lay a moment of silence, evergreens revealing a vulnerability seen by very few.

"Don't you think that I've wanted to tell you, that I don't actually want to keep secrets? It's crossed my mind millions of times, that maybe things would be better if my kids knew, maybe I'd be able to avoid a painful situation like this in the long run. But no, I decided it would be safer for you to live ignorant, I don't want to risk my children's well-being even if it meant that things could have eventually come to this."

#browneyedgemini

... Time to stress bake.

The brunet is already mindlessly taking out the bake sheets, muscle memory taking over as dozens up dozens of various sweets are eventually stacked on the kitchen counter.

#[ memoirs ]

browneyed-gemini:

“Word on the street is that you’re a killer.”

Aloof to his father’s perplexity, the eldest son shoves his hands into his pockets, stepping rearward on his heels until met with a jolting collision— Bam ! there a towering figure had slunk against the bathroom door. It seemed to churlish to combat what was obviously suppressed with good reason. If the man who stood before him, wracked by guilt or innocent, kept himself unknown to his own children…

Houtarou wouldn’t hesitate to sever ties.

Evergreens scrutinize his child, a slight frown adorning his face. At the moment, the father wanted nothing more than to approach his child, and dismiss any accusations, probably say something along the lines of how whatever Houtarou heard, it was nothing but baseless rumor.

But that wouldn't be fair, would it?

The brunet sighed, life never gives him a break, does it? Green eyes fill with true melancholy as he watched his some grow more distant. Oh, how he wished he didn't have to say this. Though he knew this day would come eventually.

"Hypothetically, if this was true. What would you think of me?"

#browneyedgemini