Ahaha... and you're exactly the same, Komaeda-san...
[Despite, you know, all the physical differences... Komaeda feels the same and... dread fills him and his eyes at the undercurrent threat lying beneath the use of his name, the little reminder of the Damocles sword Komaeda holds over him; at the same time the length of scarf in Komaeda's hand just goes limp, as if once more inanimate fabric.
The half of his face buried and hidden in the middle of it is a wince. He can feel that, the nails digging into the fabric, somehow, just like he can somehow feel Helena returning the other scarf-hand's squeeze; it loosens a little, less desperately constricting, but doesn't let go, and Shin resigns himself to both fates.
After an eon, Komaeda lets go, relief fills Shin, and that dangling end of scarf slowly picks itself up like a limb waking up from pins and needles.]
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[Despite, you know, all the physical differences... Komaeda feels the same and... dread fills him and his eyes at the undercurrent threat lying beneath the use of his name, the little reminder of the Damocles sword Komaeda holds over him; at the same time the length of scarf in Komaeda's hand just goes limp, as if once more inanimate fabric.
The half of his face buried and hidden in the middle of it is a wince. He can feel that, the nails digging into the fabric, somehow, just like he can somehow feel Helena returning the other scarf-hand's squeeze; it loosens a little, less desperately constricting, but doesn't let go, and Shin resigns himself to both fates.
After an eon, Komaeda lets go, relief fills Shin, and that dangling end of scarf slowly picks itself up like a limb waking up from pins and needles.]