тяυℓу.

      "Take it elsewhere."

send a ✚ for a drunk text from my muse

[text]: if yuo could[text]: could you[text]: hi

Shinx.

His eyes focus and raise up, just to see the other staring at him through his mask. He swallows down, relief washing over him at seeing he’d made it through the night.  His vision immediately lands on the glass, as he’s sure he hasn’t had a drink in days. 

     “You–”

He clears his throat, voice groggy with sleep.

     “You need to drink something. I didn’t want to take the mask off. . I didn’t know. .”

He trails off at that, it sounds much more ridiculous to him when said out loud. To think he’d cleaned and sewn someone’s wound, but hadn’t taken their mask off to give them water? He could laugh at himself, this whole thing seemed more and more ridiculous as time passed.

He rises from the chair and moves to sit on the bed, being careful not to frighten the other. He offers a gentle smile, in hopes to make the boy relax.

     “Are you okay?”

Yes or no questions should work, right? So long as he can nod, or shake his head.

     “Do you want a straw?” For the drink, that is.

      He nods slowly, looking towards the water before he looks back to his own hands. He's still trying to wrap his mind around the idea of having done this to himself; it's bizarre. To be completely unaware of his actions. Few things could cause memory loss like this, though he's not sure what it might've been that caused his. Probably whatever tied him to the next plain of existence didn't extend it's gratitude for him and tossed him off a cliff -- Or maybe that's too far-fetched. Yeah, that's way too far-fetched.

      "こ̸̧̒̈́̐͆̓͂̀͢れ̨ͬ̍ͩͪͫ͌̒͗̀͜。̡̛͛͂͒̊̍͊ͧͥ͞。ͪ̌ͦͦ̀ͦͪ̉ͧ͘͠は̡͗ͥͧ̓҉あ̵̷ͬ̒͡な̋̾̔̅̈́̃͒ͨ̈́͝た̓̽ͫ̕。̽҉̷-̽-͋̌ͦ̈͗ͥ͡。ͩ̀҉͜の̑͗̈́̔̓-͑ͫͭ̆̑̚͏͘͡-̃̄͜͝。͒ͪ̂ͭ̈́-̌͑͆͑。̧̈̍̊̎̚家̧̄̌̅̆ͥͫ͞で͂ͪ̈́͘す͋ͦ̓ͯ̂か͗҉̸。̢̛ͣͧ͆"

      He looks around calmly, lips pursing beneath the mask. Now that he was little more aware, or at least, functioning at minimum capacity, he was able to make out the world around him. Some posters here, some items there. . A camera? Maybe he made videos, too. Or maybe he was just some guy who enjoyed having a camera, Shinx didn't know. Whatever it was, he's left gazing up at the other man curiously, wondering most of all, why he took the time to save him.

      He feels the need to ask, 'have we met'? But perhaps that would be in bad taste, especially considering everything the other boy has done for him up to this point. If this is in fact, his house, then he invited Shinx in, bandaged up his wounds, and is now offering him something as simple as a straw in an effort to keep him comfortable rather than remove his mask. But why? Those aren't the actions of a normal person, are they? Then again, helping Shinx at all probably wouldn't be considered normal.

      "あ̶̛͌ͣ̉ͬ̒ͬ͜り̵̈́̽̏͐̒ͬ̉͞が̶̎͊ͯͣ͑͂ͪͩ͆̐́̋̈҉̷̡と̛̀ͨ̓̇ͧ̾̈̐̓ͦͥͣͮ͒ͫͤ̎͆͘͟͜う̵̶͒͆ͧͦ͆̿ͪ͛̆̃̚͘͝。ͮ̄̑̾͊̑͡""

What compelled him to do what he had next, he truly didn’t know.

     “Please bear with it.”

He’d already failed to get him to drink, so he had to at least stop the bleeding, or he’d probably end up with a dead body on his bed. Obviously he wasn’t thinking this through properly. If this went south, and it was already seeming to be doing so, a lot would be at stake. Yet even now, when he can still call someone and explain the situation, he doesn’t have any intention to do so.

He pulls up a chair next to the bed, rolling up the other’s sleeves to look at the wounds. Sticky red and brown blood coated his arms, and it seemed to be the only thing stopping him from bleeding out. Miko had used a needle once in his life, to sew a patch only some pants. Truly it couldn’t be too different. His hands shake as his fingertips raise over the deep gashes, obviously done with the intent for it to be fatal. He swallows down, once again hoping this was the right thing to do.

Had it been anyone else, something tells him he would have walked away.

He wills the thought away and grabs a towel, then another, setting them beneath each of the boy’s hands. Shinx. . Was that really his name? He recognised him from videos, that much he was sure about. But had he ever given a name?

Reaching over to grab a bottle of rubbing alcohol, he dips the needle he’d burnt beforehand in preparation for this, and shakes it a few times before threading it. Would he wake up and scream? Would he try to run away, or maybe even become so shocked his heart stops? His own heart was pounding, and he willed himself to relax and stop shaking, eyes focused before pouring the alcohol straight down onto his wrist, watching as the blood dispersed from his arm and flowed onto the towel in beautiful curling ribbons, but he simply folds the towel over his arm and allows the wound to become more clear, then quickly begins the work on it as the blood begins to bead again.

     “Ah. . Beautiful. .”

He swallows down at the thought, ignoring the discomfort he felt at the sensation the needle brought as it sunk into flesh. It was not pleasant, but the entire situation seemed so. . Enticing. 

His mask still sat on his face, and although he worried it might be more difficult for him to breathe, he did not dare touch it.

–

      He looks around calmly. Is this the boy's room? It would appear so. He wills his arm to raise, his weak wrists dangling as he gazes at the wounds. Sewn shut. . Did he save him? There's red all around, on the wrappings around his wrists, on the sheets. . His brows furrow as he tries to remember, but he can't think of anything. He remembers his name, that he made a video and it's being posted today. . And that's all. He's not sure why this date is significant, nor why he allowed himself to be taken by this man -- He could've said no, he's positive of it -- But he only blinks at him in response.

" す̒ͬͯͪ́͆ͥ̈́͘みͦ͛͒̌͋̓̓̐͛̏ͥ̅͏͞ま̛̛ͯ̍̇ͣ̄͛ͣ̈̔̚͜͝͝せ̵̢͑̔͗̂ͨ͛̾̒̃̐͊͏̨͡ん̇̓̏͂̀́͆̆͒̅ͪ̚͝҉̵。̶̂ͦ̿̽ͣ̀̚̕͞。̈ͧ̃̈̋̏̓͊̓̂̀̿ͪ̏͂̀͏́"

      He wants to tap the other boy's shoulder, at least to let him know he is in fact, alive; if Shinx were to spend so much time and effort on someone, he would probably be annoyed if they died, after all -- Though as he tilts his head at the glass of water, he wonders if he's supposed to drink it. It's just there, untouched, while many other things appeared to be stained with his own blood. His head still feels light, everything still feels like faltering static, but he doesn't seem to mind the idea of a drink so much.

      Though it's a little difficult for him to do so without the use of his hands. . He blinks down at his wrists, features scrunching as he at least tries to remember what could have happened. He would be willing to gauge that he'd done this to himself; but had he? He honestly couldn't remember. No matter how far back he thought, all he could think of was this date. Was something supposed to happen, would it mean anything to watch his own video? Probably not, it was all senseless babble and riddles anyways, just strange things passed through a network of filter after distortion after filter. . He sighs softly as he plops back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. At least nothing was crawling on it right now. Then again, this might've been a pure living space. It would explain the lack of red in his vision.

      ". . ."

      He looks to the male at his side, fingers involuntarily twitching as they try to regain feeling. What could he be doing here? Maybe this day is in reference to him-? He's not sure, but as he closes his eyes against, he can only shake his head at the entire situation. He couldn't remember thinking about doing this, not for a very long time. . So why now? How long had it been?

     “Shinx. .”

He repeats the name once more, testing it out before moving over him and pulling on the tab to open the can. He was not trained for these situations, he’d never had to deal with anything like this before. He figured the blood was probably the number one priority here, but it didn’t stop him from panicking internally and reaching down to lift the boy’s head to bring the can to his lips. He has no idea how long he’s been out here, or what had just happened, but he figures whatever is going on, he probably hasn’t had a drink in a while.

     “Breathe and swallow. . Try not to choke.”

His voice is low and soothing despite the ache in his chest. He feels like this entire thing is a nightmare, he can’t remember his previous words belonging to him, but at the same time he can’t stop to think about anything other than the sharp scent of blood, metallic and bitter in the back of his throat.

     “Can you speak? How did you get here? How long have you been here? Have you been bleeding for a long time? Any answer is fine, if you can. .”

He felt the need to keep himself speaking, if for his sanity or his own, he wasn’t sure.  Setting the other’s head back down along with the drink, he quickly and carefully moves around him, examining his body for wounds. Blood now becoming more apparent beneath him. . He must have been bleeding for a long time. 

His fingers hover to his cellphone. . 1 1 9. It would be simple enough to contact the police and get an ambulance here, but something in him would just simply not allow him to dial. Something growing in him that felt close to selfishness, and nothing else.

It’s only then that he notes the source of his bleeding, his heart flipping with nerves.  Was it really up to him to decide whether this boy needed rescuing? Could he make, or take such a decision from someone.

" 家ͦ̈ͬ̀̏̄͋̓ͦ҉̴。̾̆̈̓ͪ̈́͌̇͐̚̕͢。͛ͣ̿̿ͨ̽́͂ͬ̇ͮ̑͒̏̓̐ͣ͡҉̨҉̴は̸̎͒ͤ͝͡。̶̔̒͋̍̽͒͂ͣ̌ͭͬͣ̄ͩ̎͂͗̚͏́͝ど̡̨̅̋̿̿ͮ̃̾ͬͥ̉̕͞こ̛ͪ̒ͪ̔́͘で̶̧̈́̾̓̐̉̏ͫ̋̈́ͦ̂ͦͦ̈ͮ̉̅ͮ̿͢す̶̔́̃̾́ͧ͋͒͐ͩ̓̿͆͒ͮ̎́̈͑́͢͜か̨̧̂͛ͧ̋͑̆ͫͪͬ̍̔̍͆ͧ̄̇̏͘͜͞。̵̢̢̄̇ͥ̓̊ͦ͘͢。̴̧ͪ̔ͫͣ̆̾̑̓ͧͫͭͦ͒ͩ͒̓̑̌"

      His fingers twitch as he wills himself to move, but it's pointless. Nothing helps. Why does this man know his name, honestly? A fan, maybe? That sounded far-fetched, his videos didn't exactly invite friendships, much less saving his life. Everything was a dull ache, numbness flowing through his veins from every pulse.

"痛̶̻͕い͕͢。̠̠͕̭ͮ̒"

It wasn’t unusual for him to go out in hikes, especially through forests. It brought him inspiration and gave him a sense of belonging, unlike the city life did. He couldn’t stand being out there, with the rushed energy and buzzing, it was something he would never get used to. 

That being said, he was not new to walking around these parts, occasionally tripping over trees that had been uprooted by storms. His vision could be better, but it didn’t bother him or deter him from spending his nights there.

With two cans of tea in hand, he made his way up the roadless hill, making sure to watch his step. Normally he only brought one drink, for himself, but at times he would leave some around, in case someone who had been lost would be needing something to drink. It’d only happened once, but he’d been prepared then too. You could say he had a feeling, and whether it meant something or not, it didn’t hurt to bring a second can or bottle along.

After stepping past loose branches and rocks, he feels the air grow colder, a shiver wracking his body and causing him to stop walking.

     “Hm. .”

In front of him lay someone, dressed in all black. The sudden realization of the only sound in the forest being that of his breathing. He could hear it through the mask, low and steady. And without hesitation, despite the goosebumps raising over his skin, he steps forward, stopping only when he can hear his breath as well as his own heartbeat in his ears, pounding away at his core and pulling him down like gravity.

Clank.

Is the sound of the can pressing against the boy’s mask as he crouches down and rests it against his forehead. His own drink being placed on the ground beside him.

     “Shinx.”

He hadn’t accounted for the break in his voice, or the sigh of. . What was it of? Relief? Fear?

     “Welcome home.”

". . ."

      He stares up at the man, his own hand raising. Or at least, he pictured it raising. He could try to lift it, but it didn't want to move. Probably from the loss of blood, trickling down onto the forest floor, coating everything with the same red he saw in the atmosphere.

"あ̴̸ͮ̈́ͮ̔̂ͣ̓̐̐͆̉̑̎͊̆͋͘な̓̅ͨ҉̕た̴̷̀ͥ̅͛̑̈̑̐̅̓̆ͯ̎̕͜͠。̵͆̓̀̾̏ͧͧ́͟͡。̨̧ͭ̊͌̓̅̓͑ͦ̈́̄͑͏͟҉は̶͌͊͊ͨ͝誰̷͒͒͗͂ͧ̚͟͜͡͠。̀͒̈́̊ͣ̎ͭͮ͌̐͋̊ͧ̽͐͛ͩ͘。̛̒̈́ͣͯ̑͟"

      A better question would be asking why he couldn't move; why he felt like he'd just been hit by a truck, but did it really matter? Did any of that matter? He had plenty of questions, but he was more concerned with this; his name. He knew his name, but not why this person knew it.

     “I understand, shame that. . But I’m happy for you, you’re wise to quit while you’re ahead.”

His lips twitch at the thought of a mere cigarette being the thing to end him, and he’s no shy from sharing his thoughts.

      "Hm. ."

      That's considered a weird response, isn't it? Then again, Deeno could see why someone might say something like that. There were thousands of other more powerful things that could kill someone besides a cigarette. Other people, natural disasters. . Food. He snorts at the thought, but shrugs before he hands over his pen.

      "This thing."

      He tilts his head in response, offering it to the other male without much thought. One thing was true, giving everything a try did help.

      "A friend of mine hated the smell of cigarettes. So I switched to this. Not entirely healthy, nothing ever is though, huh?"

Is it really so difficult to purchase a lighter that won’t die on him within a week? Possibly if he stopped buying the cheap colourful ones from convenience stores, but he couldn’t be bothered to go and buy a proper one. He should get a pretty girlfriend so she can buy him one, then he would cherish it even more.

He chuckles at his own thought, patting his pockets for another one, but finding none. With a quick sigh he scans the area, spotting a younger looking man stepping out of a building.

     “Sure. Kids always have lighters on them.”

He mumbles to himself and set towards him, stepping in front of the other with a friendly face.

     “Excuse me~ You wouldn’t happen to have a light, would you?”

      Whoops. An acquaintance, right, he'd thought he wouldn't mind that; but what he thought and how he actually reacted were quite different. It wasn't as though he was always anxious around people, or not sociable. Maybe it was just that he really had only returned to the area about a day ago.

      "--No, sorry."

      His words are a soft mutter, gaze averting as he reminds himself how to socialize. Right. He has a crappy attitude. Maybe he should try to fix that.

     “. .”

Instead, he’s greeted by soft, smooth fingertips, tracing over his cheek. He’s left wondering why he’d been expecting otherwise, as he’d obviously been teasing about hitting him.

     “Classy huh. . Classy men don’t walk away after doing something like that.”

It’s a mutter, but he feels somewhat annoyed at the situation. .

     “Hey. Wait.”

He turns, his eyes nearly forming slits at how accusingly he’s glaring at him.

     “I don’t remember giving you my name.”

      He turns on his heel, brow quirking at the other male's response. He wants to laugh at that intense expression - He'd almost thing this man were the violent type, if he hadn't spoken to him before seeing a look like that.

"One of life's greatest mysteries. I suppose you should know, my name is Kattun. Not that it would be of any use to you."

      He winks at his new acquaintance before continuing on, waving over his shoulder as he does. How did he know Apollo's name? Well, it's up to an informant to know a little about everyone, isn't it?

The idea that a complete stranger would walk over to him, make small talk, and then slap him was too much for him to really process. What would he have done in such a situation?

     “Do you think I’d let you hit me?”

      He leans in, seeming to inspect the other male a bit. What would he have done? That's what makes Kattun wonder if he should, though he then starts to giggle instead.

"No one really 'lets' someone else hit them, do they? It's up to the other person to go for it."

      He shrugs, finishing off his drink as he tips it back to his lips, then looks to the other male. He squints, brings up his hand and does in fact, swing it forward with an open palm - As if he were definitely about to hit this new acquaintance, right on his cheek - then stops just short, fingers drifting down the soft skin.

"No boy as classy as myself is going to get his hands dirty, you know."

      He hops down from his spot at the bar, fumbling through his wallet and placing a decent amount of money on the counter. Too much for a drink, certainly, but then again, he didn't seem like the type to underpay.

He smiles against his can and sets it down, resting his head on his hand to look over him. . He’s not bad looking at all, a bit too fashionable for his taste, as if he’d just come right out of a trendy magazine. It’s like a drink that’s all to sweet for his tongue.

     “Any reason why you decided to sit here and invade my pathetic night?”

"If I'm being honest, I'm a social person, and you looked like you needed to be slapped~."

      Okay, so maybe that sounded a bit abrasive. But as Kattun stirs his drink, it's pretty obvious that, well. . He doesn't care how he sounds.

     “Hm. . I’m glad to know that’s not your attempt at charm. I would have given you a solid failing grade for it.”

It causes him to grimace, the last thing he wants to think about it grades at the moment. He ponders whether he really wants to spend the rest of the night crying on some stranger’s shoulder about the hardships of being a university student, but decides against it.

     “I’m not really down, just tired. It’s just one of those days– Though I don’t think I’d ever call myself ‘princely’. I think you might fit the bill just a bit more than me, though I’m judging by looks and not your charmless personality.”

"Heeh! So mean~. . You'll have to realize the error of your ways before the evening's out, you know."

      A bit of a stretch, but it doesn't stop Kattun from accepting his drink after its made and sipping at it lightly. Too much lime. . Oh well. He looks back to the other male, his brow quirked as he looks him over. He's a decently big guy, definitely makes Kattun look tiny. Maybe he's in a gang? Hmm, no, doesn't act the type. . No one in a gang would be drinking such crappy beer.

"Ooh~? So you think I look like a prince after all, huh? Maybe I'm the ruler of a terrible country, and I've come to investigate the Japanese people as a reference! You never know, Apollo. You could be insulting an important person."