First, there was fear. Hard hitting, cold, crippling fear that took no time in crawling from the tip of his toes to his neck, wrapping its fingers in everything it reached as it crawled up his shaking body; tightening around his heart, around his lungs, squeezing the air out, around his throat, muffling his voice. Then, there was a brief denial, hopelessly trying to cling onto the idea that maybe â just maybe this was a nightmare, a vivid one at that. He had them before; theyâve been the same scenario over and over again, sometimes even worse, where everything around him would look fine but itâd be soon followed by the dread, panic and terror of having his friend meet the same end his parents did. He feared them, yet did his best to discard them; putting effort into controlling his quirk to overcome then and become able to do what was taken away from age six. At times, they couldnât be contained in form of nightmares and followed him to his daydreams, to his daily routines, they made him use gloves and extra layers of clothing heâd rather not have. He hated going out for that; he hated wearing so many clothes when the sun shone down with fury against the pavement.
It wouldnât be surprising if this was yet another nightmare that made his way into his otherwise cheerful day, ruining momentarily the pure happiness he felt in the otherâs company.
He wished it had been a nightmare. He wished it had been something temporary.
It was neither a nightmare nor a joke of bad taste that heâd brush away; it was the sudden lack of air in his lungs, the sudden sweat that framed pale features, drained of all and any color. It was how cruel how reality could be.
Pupils dilated in sheer horror, trembling as he threw his hands away from Hibikiâs, taking steps back and tripping on his own footing, rear landing loudly against the ground as he took whatever was behind and around him down with him.
If he had broken anything, if it had sliced his skin, if he was bleeding, it didnât matter. He couldnât feel it. The mix of panic, disbelief and rush of adrenaline numbed any physical sensations, leaving him motionless on the ground as he stared up at his biggest fear taking its form in reality before his eyes.
Choked sounds were all he could muster up, failed attempts of saying the otherâs name. He couldnât move, he couldnât talk, and he couldnât breathe. What have I done? Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry. His heartbeat accelerated with every second, eyes following the path of death he had unleashed upon his friendâs body.
Fingers contracted, nails scratching against the floor as hands balled into fists. Not him, everyone but him. That thought perturbed him. âNo one at allâ was what he meant to think, but the clusterfuck his thoughts had become had no time to correct whatever swirled wildly in a sea of anxiety and fear.
â Hâ-hiââhi ⌠â Tears welled in bespectacled, horrified features. Head shook slowly, brows knitting as a shaky hand ascended to reach out for the other but quickly held back. Not again, never again. This is what caused it. I am what caused it. And the fact that it shocked him this much that it had happened made him want to slap himself, beat himself up or shove hands in the shattered glass; why am I surprised? Did I think I was safe? That Hibiki was safe around me? How desperate was I to lie to myself like that everyday?
He wanted time to stop, to go back in time before he had touched Hibiki, before they had entered the room, before they had shared bento in the school yard, before they met, before he came to Japan. He wanted to eliminate himself from Hibikiâs life to keep the possibility of this happening ( along with what unraveled before him ) ever.
(Leaves a random note here I wanna rewrite this but instead u get what I wrote at 12am)
He wanted this to be happening to him instead, he wanted to meet the same fate his parents met and end it there. No one else would be hurt. Heâd be with his family. No one else he loved would be killed, ever. But the world did all but care about what he wanted; it did everything against what he wanted instead. Had it been otherwise in the past, and he wouldâve been labeled as an unrepairable danger, a threat to the society of upstanding heroes where a needy, neglected kid that wielded such a dangerous quirk without self-control wouldâve been sent straight behind bars, or to hung in front of people, or hunted down with the order to shoot to kill if he had dared to escape in hopes to live his life at the cost of the ones heâd taken.
Why couldnât things go the way he wanted?
Endless streams of tears blurred his eyesight and his name was sobbed out ( Hibiki, Hibiki, Hibiki, Hibiki, I love you, forgive me, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Hibiki ), it left him breathless; thousands of memories flashing before him â as if it was his the one that was ending â and it fell like a heavy weight on top of shoulders, crushing him and his will in a fraction of a second.
Mamoru was right; he chanted it on his head. I shouldâve left him alone. I shouldnât have gotten involved with anyone. I should have listened to Mamoru.
(u kno his parents r dead well mamoru is like his moms bro n u kno he took care of him n stuff XD but fuck mamoru)
The privilege of having friends ⌠the privilege of loving someone, it wasnât something he could fancy himself with and he was foolish to even try to believe he could at some point. The way the answer to those thoughts of him presented itself in front of him was a brutal strike to whatever trust he had managed to build with several visits to the therapist and intense practice sessions.
Unlike before, he now knew he could turn things back to normal. He could do it. He had to. If he couldnât right now, he wouldnât sleep until heâd be able to, no matter how hard his body asked him to stop, no matter if he had pushed his limitsâ limits to the point he coughed blood and wheezed for air. He had to bring him back to normal.
â IâIâIâmâIâm sâs-soârryâIâ â
Jun managed to get up to his feet, trembling hands desperately yet hesitantly making contact with the parts already turned to stone ( afraid to make it worse, he hated his hands, he hated his quirk, he hated himself ), hoping to see the grey disappear to reveal Hibikiâs skin tone beneath it.
Please. He begged one last time to whatever almighty, omnipresent figure was watching.
He imagine said figure enjoyed the despair of the lowlife creatures humans were in its eyes, causing wars and misery from the beginning of their existence for the sole purpose of having them serve as entertainment.
Of course, it didnât work.
His heart skipped a beat and more tears soaked his face. Eyes tried to look at everything but Hibikiâs face, fixed on the stone that had the soft hands heâd previously held. Lips quivered, barely able to keep weak, helpless cries to escape his throat. He wanted to scream for help, but there was no one that could fix this but himself.
It canât be like this, it canât be him. He has to grow up, become a hero, save people, he has siblings that are waiting for him. What am I going to tell them? It canât be like this. This isnât real. This canât happen, it just canât. He has a long road before him, I canât justâI canât just take it all away from him like this. WhyââWhy did I prioritize my needs for affection over his safety? What the fuck am I?
He knew the answer, yet he heard Mamoruâs voice spell it out for him; a monster.
Minutes ago theyâve been close to each other, Jun had reached out for Hibikiâs hands and Hibiki didnât reject his touch as anyone else wouldâve normally done. Instead, he accepted it; almost gladly Jun would like to believe. How wonderful would it be, to have someone like you back and not be afraid of you? Laughter and smiles were all they heard, happy conversations while poking fun at each other creating a peaceful atmosphere around them, peaceful enough for Jun to believe it was safe to touch him.
They had had a moment of intimacy and Jun couldnât keep his hands from moving, skin aching for contact, his heart screaming to try and express what he felt with more than words. Silent caresses seemed more fitting. A lifetime of having words as his limit had led him to think they had become nothing but superficial, that he could not convey what he felt with a mere string of well-organized thoughts or a mess of stuttered incoherencies. He needed contact, he felt selfish.
It was clear to him that what he needed didnât matter, it never had, and he cursed himself with the foulest vocabulary he knew for having to witness this in order to fully believe that his needs were indeed of no relevance and they could never be.
His need killed heroes before, and it now killed a future hero.
How could he ever think he was worth of someone elseâs affection when he had been the cause of the misery of many by taking away heroes that belonged not to him but the world? When did he become this selfish? He thought it was Hibiki who had made him weaker, but quickly discarded that thought. I canât blame him for my own lack of self-control.
He shook his head again, closing eyes tightly.
Left hand pressed against his mouth, muffling his agony as the all too familiar color took over Hibiki. How could he be so calm? That was surely a lie, one of the façade he was a master at displaying. The fact Hibiki did it for his sake only sharpened the pain, and he swore he could hear his heart break, shattering into pieces. He hoped it was the only thing that would break. He wrapped hands around Hibikiâs shoulders, hard and cold as stone, making sure he wouldnât fall once it was over. His head leaned closer, hanging low as he bit down lower lip hard enough to tear through skin.
I love you, I love you, I love you so much. And Iâm desperate to have you hear it and to hear you saying it back. Iâm sorry, Iâm so sorry, I shouldâve never come to Japan.
He couldnât say it. He still had time but he couldnât. Him, as the monster who killed Hibiki, couldnât hope to have the right to have those as his last words to him. Hibiki deserves better. Someone he wonât be afraid of, someone who can show their love to him, someone who isnât a killer.
He hated it was his pathetic, cracking voice the last thing Hibiki would hear.
Apologetic words were repeated over and over again, head falling onto their shoulder, staining the rock, cold surface with the nonstop stream of tears. He heard the door open, but didnât dare to turn his face whoever had walked in. Kinzoku, he recognized soon after. Fingers clutched desperately what he hoped would start feeling like cloth again as he carefully wrapped his arms around Hibiki, shoving his face all he could into their shoulder. He couldnât face them, he couldnât dare to do it. He took their brother away from them, he took Hibiki away from his family â one could say Jun killed him, if we believed as a fact that he would never fully master his quirk.
Even if he did, who knows how many days, weeks or even years Hibiki would lose of his life due to a careless mistake on behalf of his friend?
Jun sees himself as a killer.
Jun loves Hibiki but will leave his side to protect him from himself aka hes gonna pull a killua kind ofÂ
returns hibiki to normal w his filler-looking sister
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BE_oH1PN77U
