#magarula

why  the  fuck  is  he  even  here  ?  they  might  tolerate  him  at  whatever  gatherings  go  on  in  the  alley,  or  even  at  the  bar  from  time  to  time,  but  an  honest-to-god  party  is  a  different  story  entirely.  him  and  his  unhappy  scowl  standing  in  the  corner  of  the  room  stick  out  like  a  sore  thumb,  and  there's  only  so  much  of  that  he  can  tolerate  before  he  inevitably  stalks  off  to  find  somewhere  to  hide.

it'd  be  mortifying  if  anyone  found  him,  but  right  now  shinjiro  can't  bring  himself  to  care.  he  heads  for  the  side-closet  down  the  hall,  opens  up  the  door,  and  --

–  takeba  had  the  same  idea,  apparently.

it  takes  about  a  millisecond  of  thought  for  shinji  to  decide  that  her  presence  won't  stop  him.  he  sits  on  the  floor  right  across  from  her  and  shuts  the  door  behind  him,  leaving  only  the  tiny  dim  overhead  light  to  let  him  see  anything.  cozy.  (  it  is  quieter  in  here,  at  least.  )

it's  the  most  unkind  question  of  them  all,  because  truly,  shinjiro  would  do  almost  anything  to  avoid  admitting  he  feels  an  emotion  like  concern.  is  it  really  an  admittance,  though,  when  worry  leaks  out  of  every  crack  that  forms  in  his  poorly  -  built  facade;  when  those  cracks  form  with  so  much  as  the  brush  of  another's  hand,  or  a  genuine  smile  in  his  direction?  yes,  now  he  cares.  he's  never  been  able  to  stop,  no  matter  how  hard  he  tries  -  no  matter  how  long  he  spends  in  cold  alleyways,  trying  to  forget  the  only  place  that  has  ever  been  a  home  to  him.  he  cares  and  he  cares  and  he  cares.

inside  the  pockets  of  his  coat,  his  fists  clench.  they  hold  on  tight  to  the  truth,  always  refusing  to  let  it  fly  past  his  lips.  he  cares  so  much  its  rotting  his  lungs  from  the  inside.  he  cares  so  much  that  it  spills  out  of  him  –  he  coughs  it  up.  it  drips  out  of  his  eyes  and  his  ears  and  his  nose.  no  amount  of  washing  it  away  seems  to  prevent  the  next  time  care  leaks  out.  it  won't  stop  until  his  heart  does.

XXII ███   IT HAD BEEN A PARTICULARLY long day. she'd been nursing the over-familiar for every member of the team sickness that comes with the dark hour. pushing her limits as far as she could in every aspect of her life. school, clubs, work, tartarus. even if they hadn't overstayed their welcome within the dark hour days ago--- this weariness was inevitable. she wakes up early because sleeping is hard, sleeping seems to be no relief these days as the nightmares have begun to leave their stain upon her mind long after she's woken up. so she wakes up, she goes out to run & returns to shower & prep breakfast for her, her brother & their lunches. to school, just in time for a dozen hands to reach out to her for a dozen eyes to lay upon her. all grabbing for her help, her advice, to lean on her shoulders.

she gives out so much of herself so that she doesn't have to help herself.

sure, amongst the sea there had been lifeboats. the most precious of bonds she had crafted through clubs & classmates. yet as these people craved a place within her heart, how hypocritical is she to still hold so much of herself away from others. wearing the mask of a helpful friend, a concerned classmate, a dutiful student. it's just another step in her carefully dug hole where she can bury herself in. from school to clubs to work where it's never stopping, even on dull days at the cafe there is always something to do. idle tasks, cleaning or cooking, a moment to do homework at a table waiting for a customer to arrive. to then leave just in time to check in for another go at tartarus. it's a never ending cycle that she willing runs in circles about.

it's so much easier than dealing with her own issues. it's easier to don the mask of ' minako the leader ' & be done with it. minako the friend, minako the student, minako the best friend of the most popular people in school, minako the everything rather than be seen for who she feels is just minako the nothing. minako the broken. minako the monster.

because the monster is certainly her true self. there is something inside of her that hungers, that craves. some beast at her core that has reached out & spread itself through her whole body. she can feel it in her fingertips, her toes. at the edges of her ears & the point of her nose. it's become her, it's always been her. that of which the shadows clamor to reach to, that with each full moon the creatures that escape tartarus cause havoc to draw her attention & with their slaying comes a relief, a wash of cold peace that fills the void within her. she feels.... more complete, closer to whatever that has become of this human girl with it's human face & human form demands to become. she knows that she is nothing more than the shadows they fight to kill--- will she too cease to exist when they end all twelve ? wouldn't that be better for everyone then ?

to be truly seen. a fear far greater than the monster she's becoming. only her brother knows the darkness that seeps from her, he too fears what would happen to the both of them should this hard kept secret comes to light. && yet in this she yearns to not be alone. once again sitting in hypocrisy as she wants to run far away from facing her true self while crying & screaming for someone to help her to understand her. to not avoid her & tell her she's going to be okay, that even in a lie that she's not the monster she's becoming.

her heart aches as yukari stops her from returning to her room. the heat of the shower still wafting off her skin( she had darted off to call shotgun right as they returned. oh to be a senior with those private bathrooms. a year remains, will she even see it ? ) so easy to spot with how close they are. minako's tired eyes & even more tired bones can't hide her usually veiled apprehension as the lovers speaks. the fool is so tired, tired, tired, tired, tired. weary & exhausted. && before her is the only other person who has sliced a cut in that facade minako crafts so well to see through all this bullshit.

yukari who despite everything had always stayed by minako's side. waking up after the rooftop to the sight of not just her brother, but yukari as well. who had held her hand & refused to let go. who looked into the void standing shoulder to shoulder with minako & throughout it all had never once looked away. all the friends that she had made since returning home--- it was the one with the archer that had truly shocked her the most. not since her brother had she been able to feel so safe with someone. && now in this moment all she can feel is red hot shame that dusts her cheeks, turning away as she pushes her hair( loose still from the shower, damp & already starting to curl ) behind her ear. ＂yuka--＂ lips open then close, firmly pressing down into a thin line. what can she even do here ? the statement is a vague one, sure, the kind that is offered at a feeble attempt at reaching out. there's bite to it, sure, but it's weightless all the same. except for that last part.

her voice, normally so full of cheer & pep, falls flat & monotone. those bright crimson eyes are lifeless as they shift over to look at yukari once more. a soft nod, a even softer ' mmm ' leaves the fool. for a moment, ' minako the leader ' is far far far far away. ＂i know. i know, because you're the strongest person i know.

i... listen.＂ a deep breath as lithe fingers tug gently at yukari's sleeve. ＂i'm okay. right now at least. i mean it.... but, honestly＂ a breathless chuckle, ＂i'm kinda a coward about this stuff so--- when... when i'm feeling brave, i'll take you up on that okay ?＂ finally a smile. it's small, but true. && with it her hands slide down to take yukari's own to give them a tight squeeze. ＂thank you.

send me a  ✿  and i’ll fill out the template below.bold for things i could definitely see or want, italics for things i could see or am unsure of and striked out for things i don’t want or cannot see. ( accepting ! )

under a cut because of length bwah