[Blue’s mouth presses together hard, trying to be firm in his insistence- but it melts away. Both from Killua’s obvious exhaustion, and because......]
[With that out of the way, there’s nothing left but his own exhaustion, his own frustration, and the pain the encounter dug up and left behind.]
[They mirror each other, but maybe not for the same reasons, the way rigid defensiveness deflates and leaves them raw and hurting. Blue wants someone he can talk to. He wants to trust Killua with himself in this delicate state, because otherwise, it’s just himself alone and angry and spiraling in his despair, just like he had that month. It isn’t like he ever wanted to face things alone that way- there just wasn’t any other option. There was no one.]
[The feelings, buried down all this time, bubble up out of him, eyes swelling and threatening to spill over in the darkness, and they bubble up around him, too. A puddle nearby them at the side of the street begins to roil, and turn black, boiling ichor containing all those negative emotions within him, and rivers of it run out between the spaces in the cobblestone.]
...Why doesn’t he ever understand... [He mumbles softly, voice thick and cracking with sorrow, and he quickly brings a hand up against his eyes, a useless hold against the breaking dam.]
no subject
[With that out of the way, there’s nothing left but his own exhaustion, his own frustration, and the pain the encounter dug up and left behind.]
[They mirror each other, but maybe not for the same reasons, the way rigid defensiveness deflates and leaves them raw and hurting. Blue wants someone he can talk to. He wants to trust Killua with himself in this delicate state, because otherwise, it’s just himself alone and angry and spiraling in his despair, just like he had that month. It isn’t like he ever wanted to face things alone that way- there just wasn’t any other option. There was no one.]
[The feelings, buried down all this time, bubble up out of him, eyes swelling and threatening to spill over in the darkness, and they bubble up around him, too. A puddle nearby them at the side of the street begins to roil, and turn black, boiling ichor containing all those negative emotions within him, and rivers of it run out between the spaces in the cobblestone.]
...Why doesn’t he ever understand... [He mumbles softly, voice thick and cracking with sorrow, and he quickly brings a hand up against his eyes, a useless hold against the breaking dam.]