Akira holds his breath. Briefly, the air becoming thicker; shards of glass, jagged and uneven, going down his throat once he inhales. Suddenly his hands don't feel like they're his own, suddenly he feels like he's in the body of someone else. Only when he feels his nails bite into his palm does he settle with the uncomfortable sensation of a memory creeping up the back of his neck, nestling into his brain.
Spreading. He looks to the wall and swears he sees a mass of black mold slowly pulse and expand, growing with intensity until a single black hand begins to extend itself out. He shakes his head, breathing growing intense as he looks to his hands -- the vivid memory of blood staining underneath his fingernails, the scent burning his nostrils, a body that he can imagine slumped between his fingertips.
He can't remember their face, let alone their name, and yet he killed them.
And Akira looks to his hands, a bead of sweat dripping from his temple. He killed for this nerd -- thought was best at the time, so what the fuck happened to make him think he needed to protect Akki? He can only assume it was out of the desire to ensure his safety.
He's a damn dog all over again. ]
You -- I... [ He feels like he's about to punch a hole through the wall. He doesn't know whether to feel angry or relieved. ] You gotta swear to me -- sweat to me that I didn't do it 'cause you told me to.
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Akira holds his breath. Briefly, the air becoming thicker; shards of glass, jagged and uneven, going down his throat once he inhales. Suddenly his hands don't feel like they're his own, suddenly he feels like he's in the body of someone else. Only when he feels his nails bite into his palm does he settle with the uncomfortable sensation of a memory creeping up the back of his neck, nestling into his brain.
Spreading. He looks to the wall and swears he sees a mass of black mold slowly pulse and expand, growing with intensity until a single black hand begins to extend itself out. He shakes his head, breathing growing intense as he looks to his hands -- the vivid memory of blood staining underneath his fingernails, the scent burning his nostrils, a body that he can imagine slumped between his fingertips.
He can't remember their face, let alone their name, and yet he killed them.
And Akira looks to his hands, a bead of sweat dripping from his temple. He killed for this nerd -- thought was best at the time, so what the fuck happened to make him think he needed to protect Akki? He can only assume it was out of the desire to ensure his safety.
He's a damn dog all over again. ]
You -- I... [ He feels like he's about to punch a hole through the wall. He doesn't know whether to feel angry or relieved. ] You gotta swear to me -- sweat to me that I didn't do it 'cause you told me to.