THE sentiment he’d heard far too much of lately — sure, phrased & shown in many different ways, so hearing the words outright, unprecedented & completely sincere jabbed at the disquiet in his gut and flared the irritation he was quick to put another calming hand on.while in reality, he simply grit his teeth and sank back against the door; may as well get comfortable; & for once, grateful for the barrier between them so he can hide hisexpression at least: always perfectly in place until something heavy gets dropped on his feet like this, to let him pensively nurse his own wound for a bit.
kuroo has to say something strong for him, be the voice of reason! he can’t be angry, beside hating confrontation once it really comes to it, but to hold on and ride it out is not as weak as simply leaving, which never would this man do unless pushed ( that is not what this is, he’s convinced ).
you can’t have everything. you can’t just be all good & perfect forever. is that what you’re pretending? like you’re still that guy? how pathetic. get a grip!!
a king is not appointed without purpose; & his reign will come to an eventual end.
( yes, once he dies. )
how sad people would be, to find him have been reduced to this.
while it may not be uncommon for his companion’s frivolity to be flicked about in his words,which in itself was, truthfully, not necessarily unpleasant, every so often if paying close enough attention, something did come from the stream even if upon inspection it really was still drivel to be tossed back … but kuroo knew in this case if indeed the statement may be true, using a lame disguise entitled humour, he decided to drily respond with equal insincerity ( only partly faked; after awhile it did wear on the brain ).
‘ YEAH, no shit you’ve been. that is ALL you do. ’
sometimes it was good to fuel the fire enough to keep it burning, rather than leave it to reduce to quiet embers which do not always spark back up. but right now, he doesn’t know which is best —— how does he explain? he doesn’t like it.
there was a reason he disliked leaving him alone for any amount of time, in midst of his own protests like so, even if he knew where tooru was, what he was doing. in itself holing himself up was better than nothing, & he had to remind himself it was a blessing even to hear the responses through the door, as silence was worse.
crawling to the corner to die like some small animal, refusing to be touched nor helped, ( because really, at that point nothing can be done ) or maybe to live his last breaths with his own dignity while he still had the strength to do so. but it never happened like that. they’re always on the floor, still, staring ahead, waiting for him to feel something, stopping from saying anything of use even if the shrill tone of panic in his own voice comforts none but his ears. a locked door was one thing, a message sent in the literal inability to reach him, but of course he alone had done much worse. it scares him, more so than whatever was in the silence.
THAT feeling of standing at the ledge, it wasn’t because of any potential danger to himself;but the inevitability of being pulled down with it no matter what. because you can’t turn your own heart off & expect to have relationships with people; he’d learned that, a long time ago. no, not with oikawa … & he didn’t know how to deal with this exactly, maybe,specifically ( on the surface only because he didn’t want to ? ) & it got harder when he’s the only one left to, even though everyone always used to count on him!!
( & he can’t say that aloud … for what only would be heard. )
he’d seen it in others, too, but the fact of the matter was that kuroo rarely could even offer a hard shoulder to cry on, the only dealings of truth coming from his mouth most especially offered if it’s been asked for; not what anyone wants to hear. & if oikawa didn’t want to hear it anymore, then it is fine to lock himself someplace where words will never get in and the only ones he’ll need are in his own head. ( covering ears also makes it a lot easier to trap them, to note! )
but he’s seen it before. heard it before. to feel those beautiful highs, you’d need to feel the deepest downs. that’s the deal.
after all, if you can fly, you can do anything. WHO had said that? who’d said that, & had he once told it to tooru, as well? still, neither of them believe that he’ll ever fly again. & maybe, if that one person did, the ability to give flight had gone along with his presence. everything changes with time. if everything stayed the same, that man would remain unsatisfied too. the period had ended. if only he could make tooru see it was time for even such an undesirable new one! & if he can’t go forward, if he needed help to — well, when would he ask, really.
AT this point, he figures to have fucked up, but his friend was still talking,which should be good enough.
‘ HUAAHH? I can’t seem to hear you very well. must be ‘cause of this door, ne … ’
Breathe in & breathe out. Feel the rot within the lungs distort the reality around & drink the poison that runs through the veins. Give into the lie that has seeped into your soul for there is no escape from the smoky haze that spills from heaven’s hell. How the embers of the gilded temple that were built from the shattered marrows of saints & the god-like ichor of prophets that praised his every move. It hurt to think, to q u e s t i o n the path that he had been walking down had their ever been an option ??? Did the road that he built from the ashes of his feathers that once bled bright gold hope turn to salvation at any point ??? Time would not tell for there was no longer a moment in the past.
He was the past that dripped ink in the tomes of history. The dreams of nights of being remarked as the great & holy became begs & plead to just be remembered by someone. A whispered word on the winter's wind would be enough to satiate the soul of a man afraid of the price of his sins. How he ached to be written as a martyr to be above his station in heaven. To be seen as one that had slain the goliath with not a sling with his OWN FISTS & WILL. The pride that rushed through his veins & how the sweet hymns danced on the tongue at the aching memories. For they were not REAL. Nothing was real. The gilded age had been one of bronze & stone, not the bright golds & platinum.
❝ I’m not opening the door. Just go away. ❞
Clinging to another mirror that would soon be shattered like the one that was his skin & bones. The wood that was made of the heavens would soon open with a cracking that would sound like trumpets for there were no more tomes to be written. The time of revelation was coming & the angel that still lived within the marrows of his bones was ready to tear the sinner that once was a saint to shreds.
For stars never live long, no no no. The mixture of bright & the power that drew the whole system to look at them was what brought the end to come. The bright showcase of stars ends brought life to the worlds that worshiped it. How the matter & dust would soak into the skins of those who deserved the crown that was made of his ichor & silver skins.
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