#dreamwilt

“WHY ARE YOU running away?” A rhetorical question posed as a barely concealed threat; evident by the way A2 holds her blade towards the android’s neck, silently daring 2B to come closer.

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡  𝐨𝐟   𝐚𝐧   𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭   !    ( accepting )

&  INITIALLY  HE  HAD  FELT  NOTHING  BUT  PURE,  UTTER  GUILT  ;  knees  are  bleeding  red  against  scorching  asphalt  &  burning  —  burning  —  burning.  the  visor’d  lad  keeps  his  head  down,  refusing  to  look  up.  refusing  to  meet  her  gaze.  fingers  flex  &  textured  leather  stretches  over  synthetic  muscle,  tubes  &  wires  &  circuits  whirring  beneath  the  thin  covering  of  what  was  to  be  called  their  SKIN.

he  felt  he  violated  her.  FORCIBLY  HACKED  INTO  HER  SPACE,  despite  the  wavering  cries  of  refusal.  despite  the  cries  of  pure  desperation.  bright  crimson  hides  behind  pressed  lids  &  there  was  no  time  to  think-  no  time  to  hear  her  out.  he  had  to  save  her.  pure  white  wall  is  stained  ugly  black . . . virus  making  quick  work  to  r u i n   —  nines  was  quicker,  however.

there  are  flashes  of  orange  and  purple,  patterns  of  offense  recognized  by  the  scanner  in  his  duty  to  PURGE.  virus  removal  was  swift . . . it  didn’t  spread  vast,  didn’t  travel  far.  initially  he  had  felt  nothing  but  pure,  utter  guilt  ;  personality  data  HEAVY  with  sin  &  self-reproach.  he  shouldn’t  have  done  it  —  but  he  had  no  choice.  he  had  no  choice.  right?  but  yet . . he  couldn’t  help  but  release  his  curiosity  so  eager,  so  ACHING.  impulsively  rummaging  through  every  corner  and  crevice  of  twobe’s  mind.  

how  utterly  filthy  of  him  to  do  so.

guilt  is  only  short-lived,  however.  guilt  turns  into  confusion  turns  into  anger.  anger  turns  to  acceptance  &  right  back  to  confusion.  he’s  back  in  his  own  body  now  —  outside  of  hers.  faced  with  an  ugly  truth-  one  he  had  long  discovered . . . one  he  had  long  denied-  suddenly  he’s  feeling  everything  all  at  once.  the  looming  presence  of  his  supportive  unit,  hovering  silently  o’er  his  shoulder.  HER  BREATHS,  labored  &  irregular.  unlike  the  ones  he’d  been  holding  all  this  time.

chest  is  tight,  mind  reels.  he  had  known  it  was  only  a  matter  of  time  he  would  be  killed  for  what  he  had  done . . . for  what  he  had  uncovered  in  his  many  illegal  attempts  to  access  private  bunker  servers  . . .  it  was  only  a  waiting  game  from  then,  counting  every  hour  every  second  until  his  inevitable  reset.  one  he  was  very  much  ready  for.  one  he  anticipated.  

he  did  not-  however-  anticipate  this.  not  her.  never  her.

let’s  go  back,  he  whispers.  let’s  go  back.  let’s  go  back.  over  &  over.  again  &  again.  he  doesn’t  even  realize  he’s  saying  it  until  SHE  speaks  up.  (  WE  CAN’T  GO  BACK  ).  because  now  he  knows.  her  real  designation.  her  real  mission.  but  she  does  not  know  what  he  harbors.  does  not  know  what  he  carries.  knows  not  what  there  was  to  fight  for.  there’s  an  irony  to  this,  but  nines  does  not  think  about  the  connection.  he  can’t.  there’s  a  ghost  of  a  chuckle  that  is  released  under  the  breath  that  finally  escapes  him.  really,  it’s  funny.  it’s  so  funny-    the  way  they’re  so  tragically  fated  to  come  to  THIS  conclusion.

it  always  ends  like  this.

“  2B . . .  ”    her  name  rolls  softly  ;  full  of  malice.  full  of  sorrow.    “  i’m  sorry.  ”  

A  CRUEL  OATH  IS  WEILDED.  he  no  longer  hesitates. 

music is something that’s everywhere in toya’s life,   from the better   (   familiar beats pulsing through his veins as he sings onstage beside his partner and groupmates   )   to the worse   (   jamming his headphones on and turning up the volume loud enough to drown out the sounds of piano from across the house   ).   it’s so present,   that for a moment,   he doesn’t register the song he can faintly hear from the school hallway as out of place.

the singer’s voice is clear,   practiced,   and familiar in a way toya can’t quite put a matching name to.   curiosity drives him closer to the song,   hardly even paying a passing thought to how one likely chooses only to practice after school hours when most of the student population has left or are busy with club activities because they desire that solitude.

though the door to the room has been closed,   toya can peer through the window and see mizuki standing there   —   and oh,   no wonder he thought he knew that voice,   though he had no idea they could sing like that.   now that he thinks about it,   he had no idea they came to school today,   either.   this is his first time seeing them this week.

as quietly as he can,   he slides the door open just enough to slip through,   but they must have caught his movement from the corner of their eye because there’s not even a beat before their eyes meet his and silence falls over the room.