✄
✄ your muse injures my muse
It all started with that horror movie. He was terrified simply by the mention of the title; because– for goodness sake, he did not want to know about the girl that died in the hospital in their very town ten years ago. It scared him even more as the movie started off with: “Based on a true story.” Allegedly so, perhaps, but Miyamura was always easily paranoid. If it weren’t for Hori, he wouldn’t be anywhere near this movie.
Unfortunately, his girlfriend hit the play button and the screen shifted; right into a jump-scare. “AAH!” He yelled immediately as a white figure jumped on who he presumed was the main character, grabbing the pillow nearest to him and holding it close to his chest. “H-Hori-san, can we please not watch this?” He pleads, though it falls on deaf ears. She’s already absorbed into the movie, he realises, burying his face into the pillow as the main character continues walking down the dark and deserted hallway that looked oh-so-familiar– right, it was filmed in the hospital he used to frequent when he was young. He tries to convince himself that it wasn’t real, the directors just wanted to attract people– but he couldn’t shake off the fear that always trapped him whenever they watched these movies.
He survives, though a little (very) panicky for the next hour, and Hori is still calmly sitting by his side, her composure making him feel embarrassed. Halfway through, he feels a hand on his shoulder right as the main character is grabbed, on the shoulder, by the mysterious being in the film. Naturally, Miyamura yelled and grabbed the hand, his fear overwhelming his common sense as he shifts and twists the arm– only to realise it was Hori’s.
He recoils immediately, letting go and worriedly chews on his lower lip. “Oh god, I’m so sorry– shit, Kyoko– I–” The words leave his mouth in a frenzy, and he slowly reaches out to touch her arm to see if it was alright– he doesn’t even realise he’s called her Kyoko, too overcome by panic and anxiety and his brain couldn’t think of what he should do in this situation except apologise and hope that she wasn’t injured too badly, and blame himself if she was.
“I-I’m really sorry– are you okay? Does it hurt?” He asks, wanting to just bury his face into the pillow– but he can’t, he needs to face her and what he did; needs to face the fact that his fear had taken control of him for that split moment and had caused him to hurt her– the one person he loved.
He can’t apologise enough.
