( open ) being fooled, being abandoned

[bloodmetries]

who: akira kijima and you!
what: he's "awake" and angry
when: june 27th
where: all over
warnings: mentions of blood and death. possible violence.

I. GOOD MORNING SUNSHINE

[ His world realigns itself slowly; head underwater, breathing slow and even. Akira is standing in the hallway with no memories of coming here -- at least not immediately, but when it comes together in pieces he feels as if his body was being controlled by an entirely different person. That was his first concern and primary catalyst of his anger that begins to spread from the back of his head and down his neck.

The sound of glass shattering has him instinctively flexing his fingers. Ensuring he can move, tensing up the muscles of his arms, and sighing out a breath akin to relief when he looks behind his shoulder and sees no immediate danger.

Then again, when expecting a ghost, how knows if they're there or not. Akira has learned by now to be cautious even in his own house. ]

... Dammit. [ He looks at his hands, notices there's no blood. That memory wasn't his own... so was it something that had to deal with his bloodmetry?

Akira takes an unconscious step forward, hearing the sound of glass beginning to crack underneath his weight before he lifts his foot. He pauses, canting his head slightly once he notices the broken test tube on the floor and clicks his tongue. ] Who the fuck is throwing this shit around?

[ Because obviously HE didn't drop it -- which means you, unlucky passerby, are the prime subject. ]

You?

II. UN: A.KIJIMA

wh

e r

e?

.

ka ,, ,,, ,
k

kkk

k u
y

Amen

III. FUCK IDK

[ Later into the evening Akira can be found by the vending machine. At this point he's probably overheard the talk of a murder, and assumes that this place is some sick place in hell that Kakuya has dragged him into, so he's just... mad. As per usual.

He's trying to get a drink and realizes that he must have been sleeping every day since he's been here during class cause he has virtually no merit points. He kicks the glass, getting annoyed, and just as he's about to turn and go away he pushes a random button and this drops.

He holds the drink his hand, a look of absolute disgust evident in his face as he hears someone approaching. His expression doesn't change, but he's quick to extend his arm out and hand the beverage off to the next person: ] Here.

IV. WILDCARD

( "but ryza i want akira to punch my character in the face right NOW" line up then. )

Comments

iii. fuck idk!

[commences]

( his days are primarily spent in the library, killing time as he keeps himself distanced from certain people, or rather, as many as he can. there's something calming about hearing one's own thoughts, the scent of a book's pages that wafts into his nose, and the never-ending silence trapped within the area. he's at peace here, well, that's until his stomach starts to growl, and a hand settles over the area as he can feel the vibration without the sound. getting to his feet, he sets a bookmark between the page as he closes it.

soon after, he exits the library to make his way towards the vending machine, and he digs into his pocket to pull his pda, tapping it a few times until it unlocks. with his reflection staring back at him, he misses the gesture, and instead hears a voice that causes him to lift his head from the screen. he's met with akira's face first, staring at his features until his eyes lower to what's in his hand — what's that? komaeda contemplates what to do as his eyes now glance over to the vending machines he's a few steps away from, and with a raised hand to reach out for the drink —

he smacks it. )

I don't want that.

( it's just... a decision he's made, albeit a poor one, because he does this in a manner where it's going to fall out of akira's hand, and once it crashes to the ground — it explodes all over the other's pants, staining them. komaeda's not spared either as the brown liquid covers his shoes, and parts of his pants as well, but he takes a step over the puddle that's been made. )

Make sure not to step in it at least after making that mess...

1/2

[bloodmetries]

[ Akira wants to believe that he's in a better state of mind than when he first got here -- more coherent, a little less pissed off -- and he's proven wrong almost immediately. There's a thousand ways to reject a free drink, and while he's often victim to Seiji forcing a weird and disgusting beverage to swallow down he's never done this. Though that comes with the privilege of being a childhood friend.

This guy?

This complete stranger?

Some asshole who just fucking stained his pants because he wanted to act like some pretentious little prince?

Seiji would probably have had his men on speed dial and already threatening to feed his family to tub of sharks. Akira, on the other hand? ]

[bloodmetries]

Hey.

[ The same hand that Komaeda had just smacked curls into a fist. The blank stare on his features is immediately hardened; eyes glaring, the rage he's been withholding boiling over. He's honestly done worse to cops just doing their jobs, keeping kids from trespassing into crime scenes --

Akira draws his elbow back, letting his hand fly across the air with the intentions of smacking him square in the jaw. ]

just realized his abo collar... him n rika match

[commences]

( if he does things like that, he's dislikable, and no one will be near him — in this world where it's torn between talent, untalented, and scum, he knows his place. it's why he's able to do what he wants when offered something out of kindness, or probably just personal rejection. he could have done anything else, he probably could have just ignored him, but he decided to act out as he moves along. this is a stroke of luck, especially after chiaki's death —

when he looks over to see what the other wants, and his fist drives right into komaeda's jaw, and upon impact he's sent flying down to the ground with a loud thump. it's an audible sound of pain that leaves past his lips, his vision going black as he closes his eyes tightly, and the ache that pools in his mouth makes it hard for him to try and open it. the connection burns, and he feels the taste of iron budding in his mouth from the way he guesses his teeth scratched against the flesh. it's obvious that akira's punch was good, the way komaeda's body shakes, and blood spills from the corner of his mouth — it drips on his shirt, staining his pants, and he doesn't even think about the fact that he shouldn't let any of it touch the ground.

his body throbs, his eyes slowly raise up to meet with the man that punched him, and in response komaeda's lifting one hand to wipe away the blood. no matter how much he wipes away from his mouth, he can feel it pooling in the inside, coating his tongue, and as he takes in a deep breath — )

Th— There's no need... to greet me... do you want to step on my face next...?

( he seems into it. )

he wears it so everyone thinks he's an omega

[bloodmetries]

It was a warning.

[ Akira states matter-of-factly; his words are harsh but not without a drawl. Every ounce of anger that he's been trying to keep hidden behind his nonchalant composure seems to be boiling over all at once, much to his displeasure, and as the other man scrambles to get a breath while he's on the floor all he can see is another enemy.

This entire school isn't safe. No one here has proved to him that they deserve his trust, either, and despite the vague memories of an average high school life -- the one that he had strived for in the past -- he realizes it doesn't matter now. He can't drop his guard, he can't let anyone try to walk over him, because the second he does there's the possibility of Kakuya sliding through the mirror and attempting to make another "game".

That's his biggest concern, sided by his priority of staying alive.

He wants to mind his business, but... he's here already.

Wordlessly, Akira lifts his foot and slams it down on Komaeda's ankle. Pressing his weight onto it and twisting slightly, his expression neutral. ]

I'm the wrong person if you're looking to get off. [ Seiji would probably have a better time doing that -- then again, he probably wouldn't. ] You've been here for awhile, right? You should know what the hell's going on here -- if not, then it'd be just fine if I killed you.

STOP NOT SO WE THINK HE IS WHEN WE KNOW THE TRUTH

[commences]

( akira's foot comes down, and komaeda's voice leaves from past his lips in pain, but soon after he bites down on his tongue to calm himself. it's not too bad, he's been through worse, but he keeps his leg in place as akira applies pressure. if this was an ultimate, he feels like he could say nice things, but that wouldn't do anything for him to the moment. he'll call himself lucky as he watches the other in blurry vision, and then his eyes glance to the side. )

When it comes to your looks... ( not what akira was talking about, but it's an opening he can't let go of. ) they're generic... not enough to satisfy my tastes, don't worry.

( his nails scratch against the ground, chipping a few as the pain swells in his leg, and he's pretty sure he's going to bruise badly after this. he hisses between his teeth, but he doesn't even try to pull away from akira's foot, instead komaeda laughs softly after as if he's used to this. between this, and the information that he does have, he doesn't see a reason to say anything, or rather, he doesn't want to. if he says nothing, what are the chance that he'll die? he knows that people will be upset about it because there would be another d —

perhaps they wouldn't be upset, maybe this is the better outcome. so he provokes him, shaking his head: )

Why don't you find out yourself... you'd have more fun if everything was a surprise...

[bloodmetries]

[ Immediately, Akira quirks a brow -- he doesn't hesitate, doesn't seem at all offended or angered by the comment as he does confused. ]

That's not what I'm talking about. [ He can hear Seiji somewhere in the back of his head; a bad influence, a powerful voice. It's a reminder of how he should carefully toe around a person to get exactly what he wants: information.

But that was never how Akira learned how to survive. He got through every day with his fists, destroying everything in his path, leaving all that got between him and tomorrow on the ground bleeding and battered. He's never killed another person, he's unsure if Seiji even has, but there's the difficult truth he has needed to swallow that pursuing a life where he's included in the yakuza knowing that he'll have to. ]

What's the point of even actin' like this is all a game?

[ He hates people like this -- there are exceptions saved with the veil of childhood friends, but otherwise Akira's brain can't wrap around their complicated answers. Too wishy-washy, too unpredictable; better to just swat the fly while it's annoying you now rather than later.

He lifts his foot, bringing it up to Komaeda's shoulder and kicking him to the floor. Stepping over him, he stands over him with clenched fists. Dark eyes that were initially distant blinking in that survival instinct; a predator cornering prey. ] You want me to fuck you up that bad, bitch?

[commences]

Isn't that your choice... asking me for what's going on, taking your anger out on my body... you can really have one or the other.

( the pain he's suffering through is a reminder that if he does here, so meaningless, so... worthless, that it'd be some sort of hopeless death. that sort of end doesn't fit him, not with his constant need to help hope in a way that the people around him are led down a path where their own strengths are revered by those who bask in their light. at this age, komaeda enjoys all sorts of hope, he even gives the untalented a chance, and it'd be wrong if he didn't at least attempt for this person here. he's having too much fun with being hurt in this manner though, it's not ever day, especially with chiaki gone... where will he get his daily dose?

ah, though she died as a stepping stone, komaeda shouldn't be too upset about that — at least she served purpose at the very end, she deserved that.

laying on his back, he dares not to get up, and instead, he lifts his prosthetic arm up to place over his chest to gauge how fast his heart is beating. not as quick as he wants, so maybe he should ask him to do his worth, maybe there's a chance to really feel through the torture — or so he thinks until he notices something out the corner of his vision, the vending machine wobbling, and then leaning forward like it's going to crush them both — there's no stopping it as speed picks up during its descent towards akira and komaeda.

yeah, maybe they should move, and by move, komaeda's pointing a finger so akira has a heads up.

whoops! )