“That look in your eyes? It terrified me. You terrified me.” I wonder who.
“That was never my intent, Sasaki-senpai,” Kiyoshi said, head down and gaze averted. “I was simply--"
How on earth could he explain it? How could he explain the overwhelming, sickening feelings of rage and despair and possessiveness churning in his gut? He felt like he was about to be ill; this past him, this other him was surging so strong inside in this strange, strange place they had come to.
The strange place that he could walk with his eyes closed. He inhaled a breath, and another and another, finally raising his eyes to meet Akira’s. “I just...” What, he just wanted to pin his senior against the bed, the wall, anywhere he could shove him and leave a trail of marks along his neck?
But he knew he needed to address what Akira was actually talking about. “I didn’t like that room,” he said quietly. “I just wanted Aya-senpai to hurry up so we could move on. I didn’t mean to threaten her so violently.”
That room. The room where Kiyoshi, where Ken, had incinerated their bodies--those of Kouji and Izumi, those of the very Akira and Aya who were standing with him here now, younger than the other him remembered them.
He shook it off. “Let’s go. There’s...somewhere here I think I want to visit. I don’t know why, but please, just follow me.”
