What kind of future does he have? It's unclear, which is almost worse than the knowledge of his imminent end; he feels he shouldn't be here, and that's been the problem since day one. Why he struggles with magic, with learning it, because what if it's all for naught? Will it really matter, in the end?
But he's not doing it for himself, as per usual. He can think about the blank possibility of his own future all he likes, but he just can't swallow down putting others in danger. He learns for his teammates. He learns for the people here, who look at him with contempt and fear.
I see. So you accept salvation. ]
...It felt like it was.
[ Right. Right for him, who spent so long running and trying to forget when he should have known better. Right for Amada, who deserved closure after everything he's done.
Right, because he was so, so tired of everything. Of feeling the guilt. Of counting his sins.
What a beautiful end to your life. Very well, you shall go first.
But not like this.
Rest peacefully.
There's a beat.
The hammer clicks, barrel pointed at Amada's skull.
Time slows to a near halt for those few seconds, for both the scene itself and his own thoughts.
And then there's a stumble, a grunt, as the hallucination seems to blur and rip at the edges. The gunshot seems loud enough to rattle the eardrums, echoing off the fake walls, accompanied by the spray of blood that spatters near their feet.
Amada hits the floor, covered by Shinjiro's body, and when his hands peel from the older boy's back in singleminded shock, they come away stained in blood.
A hand comes up to slowly press to his own chest, features torn between the stone they want to be and the temptation of it to crumble away. He doesn't need to be telling him this, bare anything he's got to somebody else. It's not Jing Yuan's business, not his burden. And yet. ]
...All the pain I felt felt small in comparison to Amada's. [ Somewhere in the distance, there's the sound of shouts and pounding feet on concrete. He hates the dawning terror in Amada's face, staring at the blood that will no doubt stick under his fingernails. Yet another thing he's done. ] I just didn't wanna leave anything behind for anyone to hang onto. No doubts...no regrets.
continued cw for suicidal disc
What kind of future does he have? It's unclear, which is almost worse than the knowledge of his imminent end; he feels he shouldn't be here, and that's been the problem since day one. Why he struggles with magic, with learning it, because what if it's all for naught? Will it really matter, in the end?
But he's not doing it for himself, as per usual. He can think about the blank possibility of his own future all he likes, but he just can't swallow down putting others in danger. He learns for his teammates. He learns for the people here, who look at him with contempt and fear.
I see. So you accept salvation. ]
...It felt like it was.
[ Right. Right for him, who spent so long running and trying to forget when he should have known better. Right for Amada, who deserved closure after everything he's done.
Right, because he was so, so tired of everything. Of feeling the guilt. Of counting his sins.
What a beautiful end to your life. Very well, you shall go first.
But not like this.
Rest peacefully.
There's a beat.
The hammer clicks, barrel pointed at Amada's skull.
Time slows to a near halt for those few seconds, for both the scene itself and his own thoughts.
And then there's a stumble, a grunt, as the hallucination seems to blur and rip at the edges. The gunshot seems loud enough to rattle the eardrums, echoing off the fake walls, accompanied by the spray of blood that spatters near their feet.
Amada hits the floor, covered by Shinjiro's body, and when his hands peel from the older boy's back in singleminded shock, they come away stained in blood.
A hand comes up to slowly press to his own chest, features torn between the stone they want to be and the temptation of it to crumble away. He doesn't need to be telling him this, bare anything he's got to somebody else. It's not Jing Yuan's business, not his burden. And yet. ]
...All the pain I felt felt small in comparison to Amada's. [ Somewhere in the distance, there's the sound of shouts and pounding feet on concrete. He hates the dawning terror in Amada's face, staring at the blood that will no doubt stick under his fingernails. Yet another thing he's done. ] I just didn't wanna leave anything behind for anyone to hang onto. No doubts...no regrets.
Nothing.