(logged in on the wrong blog, but from youngscion, post-canon emo or whatever tbh ahxhsh) "I think I loved you, for a while there. Or at least it felt like love."
2018 IS ALMOST OVER MEME
LOVE.
The word simultaneously excites and disgusts him. Nauseous and ignited all at once. protectively holds his stomach and lets out a bark-like laugh, other hand raising to tuck his hand behind his ear. Wants you to see his every expression for this. Face contorts from laughter to pity in mere seconds -- ‘ You mean you’re capable? Is it not just utter devotion for you? Hasn’t it always been? ’
But they are like mirror images. Scorning the other would mean scorning himself ( and had he himself ever felt anything other than everything? ) and its at that thought that he lets out another laugh, descending into a snicker. Did they always have to be on the same page? Maybe it was love. What would he have known?
LOVE is a word that frightens Furuta. Makes him want to peel his skin off and scoop out his very core just to get the ‘icky’ out of him. Ew. Ew. Ew. Maybe their plotting, their scheming, their late nights mulling over wine like a subverted tryst, had been love. What would he had known? It’s not like he was an expert. All he had ever know was utter devotion. One and only. All and everything. The sheer prospect of their rendezvous’ being more than just tactical have him second-guessing their entire relationship. Associates? Colleagues? Partners? (In crime only, surely?).
Furuta is not laughing anymore. He purses his lips. He had relied on him to pull the strings from the inside when he could not. Only puppet strings. Just puppet strings. On that note, had he ever put the same level of trust into anyone else to carry out some of his best work? ‘ In that case, I can only feel pity for you. It’s a sickly feeling, isn’t it? ’
Maybe it was love. What would he have known?