so, we were back here again. same shit, different day —— he would have quipped as much, if his ribs had not felt as if they were being BENT IN HALF with every breath he managed to wheeze out. one eye swollen shut, gummed up with blood, his other blinded by the YELLOW light of the SUN —— both sasagawa’s, and that of the WHITE - GOLD orb hanging heavy in the late afternoon sky. this was his life : up and down, over and over and over and over, holding his own one second and laying splayed out, eating dirt the next. at least, now, he had people who actually wanted to help push him back up, again —— or, were obligated to. ( YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING BURDEN, A GODDAMN LEECH. )
but, you could see so much when you were at rock - bottom. the scenery, you started to appreciate it ( if not, you sure got fucking used to it ). the DANDELIONS, clawing their way up through the cracks in the pavement, roaring noiselessly at the sky. the streaks of POLLEN, swirling in puddles of spilled gasoline, like MELTED GOLD. here, the burnt scraps of his dynamite casings, singed black where they were no longer the shade of CANARY FEATHERS, the once - upon - a - time cheerful color now so standardized, rendered militant with a weapon’s wicked purpose. ( CHRIST, BUT YOU ARE SO TIRED, YOU BLOWN - OUT, BURNT - UP THING. )
he felt like he was breathing heat, as sasagawa awoke the sparking, glowing SUN within him, to mend his broken ribs and his bruised muscles —— how did this boy manage to keep all of this HEAT contained, used for GOOD and not wasted ?? maybe it had some flow within the other, some purpose, some point —— clashing against the STORMS, the LIGHTNING STRIKES, the CLOUDS, the RAINS within gokudera, it was nothing but fuel for the NEVER - ENDING fire, a catalyst to the entropy, all of his ILLOGICAL CHAOS. he felt like a nuclear weapon, most days, slowly decomposing as the energy flew from his body as POISON. how did sasagawa STAND IT ??
a hand jerked up, the raw, injected energy meeting its end in a pointless motion. a flash of black rubber, gunmetal, and NICOTINE - YELLOWED fingers, sickly and stained, before the hand fell back to earth, brushing through the SUN - BLEACHED STRAW of the other guardian’s hair, the scarred heel of his hand catching against the OCHER TAN skin stretched across the other guardian’s forehead. the fingers curled, grasping tight into sasagawa’s shorn bangs as bone stretched, skin tightened ——— healing always hurt.
SEND A COLOR FOR A DRABBLE ABOUT OUR MUSES, WITH THAT COLOR AS THE THEME !! ( @vraceni )
