arashi's not sure you can die in the void - does that actually exist? does it now? it sure feels like she could, it all hurts so, so much, but she's barely got the energy to really drag herself out of bed as the month trudges on.
but: that would worry people to the point of seeking her out, as if her condition, forced into her usual cheer, didn't — regardless, she's out again today, much later than usual. a trail of blue and white petals marks her path out to the edge of the void, far, far away from where people can usually be found,
(like an animal slinking off to die in the quiet, away from the world,)
but it's just to where leo's music is scribbled all across the ground, to where the void - where kyo-chan - likes to sing it. arashi takes a seat and closes her eyes, slowly loosening the button-down she'd gotten from the mish-mash of schools to help her breathe a little easier. the only person who'd come all the way out here is someone who's already forced her to show some of her worst anyway, and she's sure he has his hands full with izumi, anyway.
her lips quirk a little. love is so sweet. it's nice that it's working out for them - she's really, truly happy for them. someone in this stupid, awful unit full of unrequited feelings and shut doors deserves it, and if ritsu's precious mao won't acknowledge the love he's given — if tsukasa hasn't yet allowed himself to live a little and act his age yet — if hers won't pan out, not in the future and not in the past, then—
arashi shudders and grips her shirt mid-unbutton, drawing in a deep breath only to cough it straight back out; bits of petals and leaves come with it, but it's not until she's expelled roses half-dyed in sticky red blood that she can breath again.
the void sings in the quiet after her fit, and arashi rests her head on her knees. the thorns of her roses, such pretty little things she loves to tend but not this way, press further into her skin, stinging, but she doesn't mind it. there's only her, the heavy weight of the out-of-season blossoms on her skin, and how suffocated she feels despite the wide open space. )
...God, if you're out there, can you like, take it easy on me? ( a soft laugh. ) I'm not really sure how much more I can handle.
✿ leo / body-horror, eme
arashi's not sure you can die in the void - does that actually exist? does it now? it sure feels like she could, it all hurts so, so much, but she's barely got the energy to really drag herself out of bed as the month trudges on.
but: that would worry people to the point of seeking her out, as if her condition, forced into her usual cheer, didn't — regardless, she's out again today, much later than usual. a trail of blue and white petals marks her path out to the edge of the void, far, far away from where people can usually be found,
(like an animal slinking off to die in the quiet, away from the world,)
but it's just to where leo's music is scribbled all across the ground, to where the void - where kyo-chan - likes to sing it. arashi takes a seat and closes her eyes, slowly loosening the button-down she'd gotten from the mish-mash of schools to help her breathe a little easier. the only person who'd come all the way out here is someone who's already forced her to show some of her worst anyway, and she's sure he has his hands full with izumi, anyway.
her lips quirk a little. love is so sweet. it's nice that it's working out for them - she's really, truly happy for them. someone in this stupid, awful unit full of unrequited feelings and shut doors deserves it, and if ritsu's precious mao won't acknowledge the love he's given — if tsukasa hasn't yet allowed himself to live a little and act his age yet — if hers won't pan out, not in the future and not in the past, then—
arashi shudders and grips her shirt mid-unbutton, drawing in a deep breath only to cough it straight back out; bits of petals and leaves come with it, but it's not until she's expelled roses half-dyed in sticky red blood that she can breath again.
the void sings in the quiet after her fit, and arashi rests her head on her knees. the thorns of her roses, such pretty little things she loves to tend but not this way, press further into her skin, stinging, but she doesn't mind it. there's only her, the heavy weight of the out-of-season blossoms on her skin, and how suffocated she feels despite the wide open space. )
...God, if you're out there, can you like, take it easy on me? ( a soft laugh. ) I'm not really sure how much more I can handle.