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@tanteiish
suffering from school and lack of muse ( so apologies for the absence ), but have a nifty theme change in the meanwhile!
A labor of love... or so it went.
Saihara never quite got the phrase. Heard it a few times, in context and out, ironically and unironically; as it goes, it wasnāt one he ever used himself, never fiddled with, finding them almost a little cheesy, never having been in a relationship before to warrant such a need, to spur an action that could be described asĀ āa labor of loveā.
And yet...
Even now, heās not sure how heās managed these. Managed this.
Heās exhausted, his stomach aches ( the idea of throwing out all the failures felt wasteful, and so heād eaten the first batches, nibbled on the next few, and threw out the rest once he felt like hurling ), but he has a neat, ribbon-tied box filled with an assortment of chocolates, all completely handmade.
Truly-- one... labor of love.
... Jesus Christ, he feels so fucking cheesy.
But-- well, heās... doing this. Heād almost call it impulsive, but-- impulse tended to go for things that happened suddenly, right? Mistakes, stumbled into abruptly, like a fall into a puddle.
This was more like a fall down stairs. A fall taking hours. Impulsively coming up with the idea just a week ago, impulsively combing the kitchen for supplies, impulsively asking his classmates for advice, impulsively mustering up the courage to ask the nurses and doctors for additional help and supplies, impulsively sneaking to the kitchen at ten in the evening, impulsively staying and discarding dozens of mistakes before finally making the perfect chocolates at one in the morning...
Heās exhausted, but... he feels more accomplished, than anything. Excited, even. That heās managed this, a-and... for him...
His only concern now, really, is that he hopes he likes it.
āAh... I have something for you.ā
He tugs his hand into his, uncurls his fingers and presses the box into his palm, taking his other hand and cupping it carefully over the box before lifting his eyes and giving him a small smile.
ā...happy Valentineās Day, Ouma-kun.ā
@usodanee
usodanee:
Why did he hold onto him now? Why, after everything he said, was he still holding onto him? He wanted to die. Ouma wanted to die. They both did so⦠why was he upset when Ouma threatened to leave him? What was it, Saihara-chan, that made you look so scared?Ā Ouma swallowed, as Saihara-chan teared up yet again. Shaking his head and desperately trying to crawl into his arms. Fighting for him to stay so desperately, with the last bits of his strength. Was he really worth that much? Then why was he keep saying these things? Keep saying he wasnāt worth anything? What did Ouma have to say to him to get through his thick skull? That it wasnāt his intention to leave him, not now or anytime soon. He hated the thought of being away from him again. Hated⦠seeing him like this too. It was such a confused plead though. Why him? Why him out of all people? Look at how pathetic I am, Ouma-kun. Look at everything I didnāt dā
Slap. It happened faster than he knew. His palm suddenly brushed over Saihara-chanās cheek, because if his methods didnāt work then⦠That was what Momota-chan had done, right? What he always did when he ran out of words to use. Violence. But when he punched Saihara-chan in the face last time, he had taken off his hat the very same night.Ā ā¦Of course, that hadnāt been all that led up to it. But perhaps it had helped him. The raw pain that Ouma felt in his hands now, the stinging. Perhaps it brought him back to his senses. If not⦠then what?Ā
āSaihara-chanāā, he started, swallowing the rocks in his throat yet again. He stared at him with newfound fever, fire in his eyes. With more determination, now that he was sure that he was losing his mind here, with him.Ā āā¦has always⦠a-always been my favoriteā His breath had grown heavier, and as he finally took his hand down again, he was panting, glaring with determination, desperation, rather than anger or hatred or whatnot. āDonāt tell me I need a reason for that! I-I just⦠admired you. Alwaysā¦ā Tears threatened to spill over his eyes yet again. He shook them off with a sniff, trying to keep himself together. āS-so⦠donāt leave. Youāre not the only one⦠who is afraid.ā
... oh.
The shock takes a moment to register. Maybe-- perhaps he shouldāve seen it coming. Shouldāve seen it with the sudden edge in his eye, with the shadow over his face, the tense of his muscles and the lift of his hand. But instead heād raised his eyes, blinked, thought, for a split moment, wait, what--
And Oumaās palm connects with his cheek with a resonating clap that reverberates sharply in his ear, echoes through the room like the sound of breaking glass.
He feels the ringing of the glassā singing edges on his skin, slowly raising a hand to his cheek, feeling like heās wading through a dream, unsure if... what happened had really happened. His fingers brush skin-- and he widens his eyes before they narrow into slits, wincing, biting his lip as his cheek burns beneath red skin.
His eyes slide from his fingers to the other boyās face, wide, searching his features. For what? He doesnāt know.
Itās like time stopped. His mind has halted, stuttered to a stop, as if Oumaās shoved a hand between the gears of his thoughts and forced everything to a grinding, sudden, halt.
He sweeps up his attention like a tidal wave, and Saihara stares up at him.
And in the quietness, in the silence of the singing glass, Ouma begins to speak to him.
He swallows. He rolls his tongue over his teeth. He looks away again, eyes flickering down, but he tugs them back, because after whatās happened, after what heās done... Ouma deserves that, at least. His attention. To not look away... not again.
God. But does he deserve this? All this attention? All this... affection? What has he even done to receive this? Why, why, why?
( But he tells him-- does he need a reason? )
What... what else? Why else? He...
Saihara lowers his head, bites his lips, moistening them, slightly.
āI...ā another swallow.Ā āIām sorry.ā Ah, that again. Of course. God, he should just--
No. Stop. He feels his heart beat blood like flames in his cheek, and he winces, again.Ā āI-I... I didnāt mean it like that. I just...ā
He falls quiet, letting his eyes fall to his hand. Gently, gingerly, gradually, he reaches out for it, intertwines his fingers with his and squeezes it, once.
And then he takes in a breath, and allows himself... allows them... this.
ā...I wonāt, Ouma-kun. I... I promise.ā
usodanee:
ā¦So this is how it was gonna be then, huh? Of course. He didnāt know what else he was expecting. That they were miraculously united again. That they could go through this together this time, considering theyād been on opposing ends way too many times. That this time there would be someone, anyone to hold his hand and say itās okay. To stay by his side and⦠not leave, for once. Well, the game was a bit different wasnāt it? He didnāt have anyone but himself to blame for his loneliness. Even when the odds were against him, he only poured oil into the flames raging against him at that time. Saihara-chan had put them out though, so he thought that perhaps⦠perhaps he meant it when he said he didnāt have to be alone any longer. Ouma swallowed, looking at the floor. He held onto his shirt, clutched it with clumsy fingertips and didnāt know what to say. Why, Saihara-chan? Why would you make such empty promises? Whenever you lied, you had good reasons, didnāt you? So then⦠what was the reason for this? His eyes fell shut, tears threatening to spill over again. He took what little strength he had left to hold them back, only sniffling slightly before he spoke.
āOf courseā, he continued, his voice quieter now, void of emotions. All that followed was a hollow laughter, a last fake smile.Ā āSorry, I guessāā, he paused. Had to pause to brace himself for his words. āā¦I guess it was stupid to think you meant it.ā Youāre alone, Ouma-kun, and youāll always be. Look at you. Youāre pathetic. He felt sick, and suddenly having Saihara-chan on him was too heavy a burden to carry. He was just weight. Even though⦠even though he never wanted him to be that. What was he supposed to do with him? He couldnāt fix him. He couldnāt help him. He didnāt want to be helped.Ā
āIāā, he swallowed thickly, feeling rocks in his throat. If Saihara-chan didnāt hate him after this⦠if he didnāt think the worst of him, then Ouma would do that part for him. āI really thought you wouldnāt leave me alone a second time.ā
āN-no...ā
Ah, there he goes again. Of course, of course. Heās hurt him again, hasnāt he? With that reckless mouth of his. With that stupid mouth of his. Perhaps Oumaās tongue was sharp, but his was deliberate, intentional. Saiharaās is wild, untamed, burning at his teeth and gums, cutting down and hurting when he never meant to.
Or maybe he did? Maybe he really was a sadist? Maybe he was lying to himself, somehow enjoyed all of... this. This suffering. Because he brings about nothing but pain, makes nothing but mistakes, perhaps itād be best if he started to... enjoy it.
( But the thing is-- he canāt. He never could, and thatās why it hurts. )
He grabs at his arm, suddenly, tugs hard at his sleeves, almost desperately. Please, no, donāt go, thatās not what I meant, thatās not...Ā
āWhy...āĀ
Why what? Why this? Why any of this? There is nothing new under the sun, King Solomon despaired, in the book of Ecclesiastes. Everything is meaningless.Ā Utterly meaningless.
And yet...
Here he is. Here they are. Despairing, hoping, crying... surviving. Living, somehow.
Itās disgusting, isnāt it? Perhaps, but...
Thatās not the question, really, is it? Here he is, looking for a reason. His why. Ouma grants it to him, tentatively, a thread to latch onto. One for the both of them.
He ignores it, flees, turns his cheek away, because heās...
Afraid. Scared. Terrified. Of the consequences, of the possibilities, of the future. Of something that cannot be promised, not completely. Of where the truth bleeds into all these lies, of where nothing is certain and everything is... probable. Could be.Ā
Heās afraid of promises, of making vows, because heās not sure he can keep them. They bind, they take, hold him responsible and accountable, force him to trust when he does too much, does too little. What if he wants to run away? What if he screws up again?Ā
Will he be able to forgive himself? Again and again?
( Does he evenĀ deserve that? )
But they also... give. Grant. And... maybe that was worth it. Maybe... that was worth the trouble. The pain. The price of messing up, of responsibility, of accountability, of being a selfish, screwed up mess of mistakes like he was.
Maybe...
He swallows, again, and gropes for his wrist, holds it tightly.
āWhy,ā he begins again, swallows and closes his eyes, feels the tears circle his eyelids and slip down his cheeks as he finally dares to look him in the eye.
āWhy me?ā
Why him? Whatās so special about him? Ouma-kun deserved so much better. Not someone who made so many mistakes, who always screwed up, who was so afraid he wore a stupid hat to hide from everyoneās eyes.
Who was so afraid he thought he could escape living in the real world by dying in fiction.
āI-I... why me? Iām not... I-Iām nothing, Ouma-kun. You... y-you deserve so much more than me. I-Iāll just... mess everything up for you. I make too many mistakes, and I-I always screw up... s-screw up everything, for eveyone. Y-you... why me?ā
usodanee:
Saihara-chan is a coward. Or at the very least he used to be one, huh? Calling him anything but strong at this point felt wrong to him. Strong and⦠mostly stubborn. Someone who can endure, who suffered more than anyone ever needed to suffer. All energy had drained from him, and yet he was still here. Saihara Shuuichi-chan prevailed even after all this, he breathed and choked and begged for death like anyone in his situation would. So then, what made Saihara Shuuichi-chan brave? That didnāt matter right now. His lips parted for another empty attempt to reach him and closed against the matter of reality. He had nothing left to say to him, and yet so many unspoken words lingered on his tongue that he wouldnāt be done in a million years. He was still tired, Saihara-chan. He was in no position to hear him out.Ā Oumaās fingertips brushed through the dark, sweaty curls of his classmate. They were slick and soft, and some part of him wished desperately that he could bury his face inside of them and let the world be. How nice would it be if the entire world disappeared, left them in this room forever. They could hold hands, hug. Fall asleep in each otherās arms. Whisper sweet words to each other.Ā
āYou said youād be with meā Perhaps that was the most selfish thing he could have said in that moment. His throat grew dry, his fingertips trembled. He watched him cry silently in his arms, his red eyes, his quivering, broken lips. Theyād never been so close to each other. Theyād never been like this at all. āSo Iāll take you by your word.ā God, how awful. Taking advantage of him like this. Ouma felt sick. āYou donāt know anything about me, ne, Saihara-chan? So you canāt leave yet.ā
Saihara sure was selfish, wasnāt he?
Heās here, carried like a raft on the swellings of an ocean, brought up with the wills and wishes of the ( once ) dead.Ā
Heās here, brought to the end-- and yet instead of feeling gratitude he feels sick and disgusted.Ā
Disgusting.Ā
How many people want him to live? How many people want him to keep going? Akamatsu, Momota, Harukawa, Yumeno-- and now Ouma, too. And yet... he canāt. He doesnāt want to. The pain is too sharp and the ache is too blinding, and all he wants is for it to--
stop. God, please, make it stop.
Hahaha. He really was selfish, wasnāt he? With all their wishes, all their gratitude and thanks, all their desire for him to keep going, their trust--
He canāt.Ā
( He doesnāt want to. )
God, he hates being reliable. He was anything but reliable. Because whenever people relied on him-- he always screwed up, didnāt he? He always messed up, didnāt he? His hands quivered, his fingers trembled, fidgeted and curled back, and glass dropped from his grasp and shattered into snow at his feet, cut into his toes and bled with his mistakes.
Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes.
He makes too many of them. People ask too much of him. Akamatsu, telling him to save everyone, and all he manages is himself and two other people. Momota, telling him to believe in himself, and yet he doubted, up to the very end.Ā
Ouma, and his plan to destroy the game, to bring it down and end it all. Ouma, and his trust in Saihara, after he rejectedĀ him the first time, after he cursed him with those words--
Youāre alone, Ouma-kun.Ā And you always will be.
And yet-- after all of that-- Ouma still somehowĀ thought that he could trust Saihara.
God. Just how stupid was he?
( Just how stupid was he? Saihara, the detective, practically given the truth on a silver platter, and yet still blinded and tricked by no one but himself. DeceivedĀ by no one but his own incompetence, his own ignorance, his own idiocy and thoughts of reward for a truth that had none.Ā )
God. Did he even promise? Heād asked if it was a proposal, but-- no, he never gave his word.
He wanted to. That was what he planned, if Ouma had said yes. But-- hah, of course, now heās not so sure.Ā
Who else would think that but a dirty, disgusting, selfish coward?
āIām sorry,ā he whispers, voice a breath, small, nearly dead. He shakes and he shakes, and he feels like heās going to shatter into a thousand pieces, to fall apart right here, right there, in his arms. āI-Iām sorry, Ouma-kun, I... I donāt know... Iām sorry, I-Iām sorry...ā
bow down you fools
usodanee replied to your post: usodanee replied to your post: ...
watch porn with tenko and die proudly, for gonta
ā...a-actually, youāre right. Thatās probably the best course of action...ā
usodanee replied to your post: miishou replied to your post: ...
please dont watch porn with gonta
āListen-- Itās not like I want to. The only other option, uh... I-I donāt want to, ah. Dominate him. I-if we watched porn together, I could, uh... he... um... i-it wouldnāt be as bad. I think.ā
now the real thing. togami, komaeda, kirigiri
new fmk meme || accepting !!
āBeat up... well, Kirigiri-san would probably twist my arm, Togami-san would probably sue me, so... Komaeda-san... I think heād... understand. Iād apologize to him afterwards...
āCaress... Neither Kirigiri-san nor Togami-san seem like the type, but, uh. Caress Togami-san, probably, because heād probably be more annoyed than anything else and less likely to sue me, I hope, and...
āRun away with Kirigiri-san. I feel sheād know what to do, in that kind of situation.ā
miishou replied to your post: angie, gonta, tenko!
[ thereās no rest for saihara sdklgjsdklgs ]
absolutely noneĀ
veritaphobic replied to your post āouma, momota, amami. to get the obvious out of the wayā
( i love death )
same
angie, gonta, tenko!
new fmk meme || accepting !!
āU-uhm. Uh. Gonta-kun... I wouldnāt want to expose him to, uh. That. Chabashira-san would kill me if I watched porn with her, s-so, uh... Angie-san? For... for watching porn.
āHunt... it never specified whatĀ āhuntā meant in this context, so... hide-and-seek hunt? Can I do that? Uh. Chabashira-san? Iād think sheād probably throw me until I passed out, but thatād be better than...
āUm. Actually... wait, no, nevermind. Iād... rather watch porn with Gonta-kun, a-and... dominate Angie-san instead. I... I suppose...ā
ouma, momota, amami. to get the obvious out of the way
new fmk meme || acceptingĀ !!
āAh... well, I suppose Iād like to dance with Amami-kun... I doubt Momota-kun knows how to dance, and Iām afraid heād accidentally step on my toes. I feel something similar would go with Ouma-kun-- heād probably see it as a chance to goof off, if anything.
And Iād... ah... um... I...āĀ
A lick of lips. A bob of the throat.Ā āUh. I... Momota-kun... heād... done a lot for me. More than I deserved... I donāt think I couldāve really... survived. Um, went on. After Akamatsu-sanās death if it werenāt for him. Iād... thereās a lot Iād like to say to him. I miss him... I miss him a lot. Itād be nice to revive him...
ā... but Ouma-kun. I... there might be more Iād want to say to him, too. He... I regret never... talking to him. Really understanding him. I... couldāve, but I rejected him. I-I guess it was inevitable, with all he did, but... I couldāve tried harder, I think. Maybe tried to understand him... I. I would like to get to know him more. Just to... get a chance to make up, somehow, for how I rejected him...
āMomota-kun, though... heād know what to say about this, wouldnāt he? A-about us, right now. He always does. Even if it was ridiculous... he always found a way. His way. And... and Harukawa-san would like to see him, too, Iād imagine...ā He hesitates, again. āBut...
āAh. Uh. If... i-if weāre going to go with the other option first, then, Iād... l-licking Momota-kun would be... uh... I wouldnāt want to lick Momota-kun, thatād be too weird for the both of us. Ouma-kun would at least find something to joke about it...
āSo. Um. Dance with Amami-kun, lick Ouma-kun, a-and revive Momota-kun...ā
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[ C H A B A N. ļ¼½
alright-- new icons and updated some of my rules for both my blogs...! ( other shiroganes and saiharas, it may be in your interest if you look at them...! )
now i should get to my activity, probably
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