[ Moisture fills the air, a damp blanket to the grass that can't be saved by water alone, grief in the streaks. Darkness doesn't surround him as strongly as it does Komaeda, but light dims, broken some by the burning of Charizard's tail as the beast moves on quick steps, body not even rising properly, to curl himself at Red's back, growling louder. None of it aimed at Komaeda, but the very presence of the physical manifestation of their emotions. Of Red's.
Orange fires turn to blue. Red doesn't speak, a hand finding the ground, but refusing to move the ball away from himself in the other. He takes in once the changed form, remembering it, his heart stuttering in his chest from what else it summons.
He knew of despair and death, intertwined, before the mark that Junko had left in plans. Etched deeper inside him, more personal and terrifying than what anyone else could inflict. It scared him to even sense a glimpse of it there in the older guy, to be able to even reach out and touch and recall those days. Those days when he didn't want to be alive, when he didn't think he deserved to be alive. Alive when everyone else stayed dead. A breath rattles out from his throat, gravity all but refusing to exist in the bubble of his person.
I shouldn't be here, whispers a voice over the link unknowingly, straight out of his thoughts. His face paints the fear that was existing there the entire time, his body sinking with his head bowing. The air might be suffocating around him, but his voice still finds a way to come out. ]
I don't know what I'm doing. [ It rung true in a lot of ways, but his meaning was for his actions now, here. Speaking about things he knew he shouldn't. Bringing out things that didn't need to be shown. The dirt under his fingers feel like sand when he scrapes at it to curl his hand, the smell of burning not helping. ]
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Orange fires turn to blue. Red doesn't speak, a hand finding the ground, but refusing to move the ball away from himself in the other. He takes in once the changed form, remembering it, his heart stuttering in his chest from what else it summons.
He knew of despair and death, intertwined, before the mark that Junko had left in plans. Etched deeper inside him, more personal and terrifying than what anyone else could inflict. It scared him to even sense a glimpse of it there in the older guy, to be able to even reach out and touch and recall those days. Those days when he didn't want to be alive, when he didn't think he deserved to be alive. Alive when everyone else stayed dead. A breath rattles out from his throat, gravity all but refusing to exist in the bubble of his person.
I shouldn't be here, whispers a voice over the link unknowingly, straight out of his thoughts. His face paints the fear that was existing there the entire time, his body sinking with his head bowing. The air might be suffocating around him, but his voice still finds a way to come out. ]
I don't know what I'm doing. [ It rung true in a lot of ways, but his meaning was for his actions now, here. Speaking about things he knew he shouldn't. Bringing out things that didn't need to be shown. The dirt under his fingers feel like sand when he scrapes at it to curl his hand, the smell of burning not helping. ]