( Like the plot of a bad harem manga, but involving the protagonist trying to kill one of his love interests.
Natsume goes down with her; instinct bids him to try and soften her fall, because the "she's going to kill me thing" aside, he does like her and she is a girl, but he fights against it so that he'll go down on her instead, specifically holding her in place to have her cushion him.. Something twists in his ankle as he looses his footing, but he'll just have to deal with that later — any scrapes, too. )
[ She hits the stairs at a bad angle, banging elbows and the back of her head in a different spot, maybe she takes a knee to the gut or elbow to the rib but either way it's just pain pain pain, dull and sharp and deep and raw and her vision is dark and bright at the same time, flashes of light from behind closed eyes and they spin with tears and she can't blink them away. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she hears her knife clattering down the stairs away from her grasp and it feels like a lifeline pulling taut and threatening to snap.
Desperate, she holds on. She can't die- she can't. She still has to... ]
( It's not as kind to him as he'd like it to be, either. One leg makes it into Chiaki's gut, but the other hits stone hard and he can't help crying out either — his grip on her arm loosens, knuckles scraped and they'd bleed on the school if not for how he jerks his hand up and away.
It takes him a moment to stop his head from spinning, both from the dizzying fall and his own sudden movements, and he can't catch his breath; his chest hurts, heart pounding the way it does when you tip your chair back a little too far and almost fall backwards but catch yourself in the nick of time. Chiaki's grip is still so tight, but that couldn't have been good for her — the fall — he carefully pries her fingers off of his collar, pulling them off one by one until he can move back up a stair or two.
Breathe. Breathe. Natsume rubs his face, stares at Chiaki, and moves closer to her again. )
For what it's WORTH, ( he mumbles softly, scooping her up gently, ) I am sorRY.
( Not sorry enough, since he still - with difficulty, aching and stinging and one of his arms a bit weak given the whole stab thing — moves closer to the stairwell's railing opposite the wall and rests her against it, briefly.
[ If she could hear him, if the blood weren't rushing in her ears, if she could answer, she might say,
"your apology is worth shit."
The lifeline severs, her head hitting the ground first and bending the wrong way, the crack of her neck as it snaps resounding in the otherwise empty stairwell.
—is what he wishes he could think, but it feels like he'd be a little less human if he did. He already feels like he almost isn't, and he only gives a cursory look for anything of hers and ends up just getting his gun and heading back up to the third floor instead, heading off to the bathrooms to clean his wounds and fix what he can before he inevitably has to face anyone he knows. )
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Natsume goes down with her; instinct bids him to try and soften her fall, because the "she's going to kill me thing" aside, he does like her and she is a girl, but he fights against it so that he'll go down on her instead, specifically holding her in place to have her cushion him.. Something twists in his ankle as he looses his footing, but he'll just have to deal with that later — any scrapes, too. )
no subject
Desperate, she holds on. She can't die- she can't. She still has to... ]
no subject
It takes him a moment to stop his head from spinning, both from the dizzying fall and his own sudden movements, and he can't catch his breath; his chest hurts, heart pounding the way it does when you tip your chair back a little too far and almost fall backwards but catch yourself in the nick of time. Chiaki's grip is still so tight, but that couldn't have been good for her — the fall — he carefully pries her fingers off of his collar, pulling them off one by one until he can move back up a stair or two.
Breathe. Breathe. Natsume rubs his face, stares at Chiaki, and moves closer to her again. )
For what it's WORTH, ( he mumbles softly, scooping her up gently, ) I am sorRY.
( Not sorry enough, since he still - with difficulty, aching and stinging and one of his arms a bit weak given the whole stab thing — moves closer to the stairwell's railing opposite the wall and rests her against it, briefly.
Then he pushes her up and over the railing. )
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"your apology is worth shit."
The lifeline severs, her head hitting the ground first and bending the wrong way, the crack of her neck as it snaps resounding in the otherwise empty stairwell.
Chiaki Kudo is dead. ]
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—is what he wishes he could think, but it feels like he'd be a little less human if he did. He already feels like he almost isn't, and he only gives a cursory look for anything of hers and ends up just getting his gun and heading back up to the third floor instead, heading off to the bathrooms to clean his wounds and fix what he can before he inevitably has to face anyone he knows. )