hc where when ui says it, “back to the surface,” it's not with too much in it.
when someone is drowning, is it desire or hope that propels them back to the air? no. it’s only nerves, or whatever, only animal meat and electricity. his body, well-tuned now to the motions he’s spent the last months blindly executing, simply straightens. stands. puts one foot forward.
if an unspeakably monstrous segmented limb crushes him, if a ghoul leaps out from the shadows to rip out his throat, if another hollow body collides against his and finally knocks him free of it, that would be fine. one leg, when he sets his weight on it, threatens to topple, and ui barely has time to think whatever when he feels hirako grow rigid. he hitches ui up, steadies him. and then waits, for ui to rebalance.
something catches. in ui’s chest. the cogs there that had been faithfully turning one heartbeat after the next, creak. he coughs, and something leaks out of him, maybe oil. he turns his head away when he feels hirako gaze at him quizzically.
“…could really use a cigarette,” ui explains, in a croak.
“not in front of yusa,” hirako replies. “it’s unhealthy for him. especially in these narrow quarters.”
ui makes a noise almost like a cough. “some things never change, huh,” he snorts, and then he laughs, so hard that he starts to sob.
