two steps forward , then one step back . that's how he's been gradually forcing himself to make his way towards the spot he and neya were supposed to meet at , a sweet-smelling bouquet in his hands , and his outfit --- far more eye-catching than what he'd usually wear , a combination agreed upon collectively by himself and dark after a long day of debate .
a part of him couldn't believe that he was really doing this --- that any of it was even happening , his focus trapped somewhere between disbelief and terror , cloud nine and absolute dread . it's reality , not a dream , even as it hung on the precipice of a horrible nightmare : if something went wrong here , wouldn't it have stayed that way forever ?
his secret'd be out , and that would have been the end of it . not just of him , but them . there was no way that he would have been able to hide anymore , whether or not neya hated him for every single lie he had ever told , and all of the happiness --- the fleeting touches , the time spent and shared that felt warm , more electric and spectacular than almost anything else in his life , would have crumbled away into nothing , rotting from a good memory into something fetid and painful . the thought was horrible , and the sudden tug at his chest is a thing that rouses dark and leaves his voice echoing again .
( didn't you want things to change ? ) himself , at first . into someone who could do these sorts of things with confidence ...
hatred . anger . disappointment . he had to keep going forwards no matter what he was afraid of . because she was waiting there for dark , and because more than any pathetic quality he could find and accuse within himself , he knew that he still absolutely owed it to neya to tell her the truth . for so long she had already shared so much of herself with him , giving him --- both of him everything and then some , so why hadn't he been able to do the same for her , barely ever surpassing glimpses at furtive halves ?
azumano's streetlights flicker as dusk falls around him and his nervous footsteps . their mock-gaslight lanterns transform the pink wrapping of the bouquet into an even more gorgeous pink-gold . even if it wasn't his first time confessing to someone , it was the first time since he had transformed . when he sees her in the far distance , no doubt still unnoticed himself , he wants to run ; to hide . to throw the flowers before plunging himself into the rivers and their ice-cold waters , but something else in him refuses .
there wasn't anyone who could do this but him . just him and dark , together .
' um ... ' still , he realizes too late that in his meandering anxieties he hasn't even prepared any sort of script . all of him flushes red ; he's positive that he must be a surprise , or look ridiculous , crazy . ' muito-san --- ' i can explain . i have to explain . this was supposed to be a confession , and not an interrogation . ' you ... you made it . '
inside of the bouquet that he anxiously offers over to her juts out a single card . the same that he --- dark had given to her . somehow the act alone brings daisuke an ounce of ease , and he takes in a breath : whatever would happen starting now , he would see to endure and bear it . ' thank you . thank you so much . i wasn't sure if you really would ... s-show up , i mean . ' // @bxtonpxss
