as the kiss comes, their heart leaps, eyes squeezing shut. shy about it, even when they're stacked together like fish in plastic wrapping. "no, krissy. you won't. you won't die." despite everything, their voice comes out like gentle coaxing, perhaps even a plead -- or the equivelant of what they're capable of. they clasp krissy's hand, fingers cinching tight. "because i'm going to stay with you. it's the deal."
the deal was to make them happy.
it sits heavy in their stomach. the tingling in the back of their head, the knowledge that sits beside them like frost, haunting, refusing to be acknowledged. they can can keep them alive. through the otherworldly thing stabbed into their hand, pinned to this world, their hand in their own. they can breathe air into their lungs, they can defy every terrible fate that might await them. through thick and thin, lemon could keep them breathing.
how are they to make krissy happy, when they hardly even know what that is?
they're hanging from their bitten lips. lemon hardly breathes, as though they may not hear those hushed mumbles, so thin and sickly sweet and unfiltered in their rawest form. lemon waits.
they stare. krissy does not move. krissy waits.
the realization dawns on them the moment they feel it.
it isn't a screen, though they've always envisioned it as one. an assortment of options in the back of their mind, at the edges of their vision, faint behind the dimness of their eyelids -- and yet, indescernible as they sound, lemon somehow understands every word.
their heart drops. they've slipped. it's been this way before, krissy awaiting their command before responding to a spoken question, but never like this, never over something so intimate, so specifically theirs --
their choice, not krissy's, their thoughts race, the pounding in their ears grows. never krissy's. krissy would never --
krissy would. krissy would betray them at the first opportunity.
the choices that are alarming, inconvenient, wrong --
the one that stuns and bathes them in cold sweat at the mere thought ,
amidst their pounding thoughts, an answer comes forth. clumsily chosen as though stumbling into it with uncoordinated force, yet gripped stubbornly, yanked out like weeds. lemon gasps.
"no, don't --" they choke out. and they are upon krissy the next second.
lips are crashing against krissy's with firm determination, their hands flying up to hold them in place, keep them still. tongue tastes the blood on their lips, swallows the words tumbling out one by one. they're muffled, illegible. lemon is close to suffocating -- from the weight of krissy on them and the fervor with which they devour the horrid sentence, the way the world seems to close in on all sides ... they can almost hear chara's voice.
evading consequences again, are you not? you know it is futile.
lemon does not pull away. even after the last word is uttered, they linger, dizzy, desperate. the lack of oxygen and the feeling of krissy in their palms turns their thoughts cotton-like. they hold onto that fuzziness like a lifeline.
eventually, they have to part -- not out of any desire to, but because the lack of air proved increasingly troublesome. there is a tremor in their hands as they fall away.
"sorry ... sorry. that--... i'm sorry."
titsay
tangentwithtanner
gummygunk
areudirty
