[ It's in their shared look that Red barely blinks. He's not locked into a single extreme expression, nor is the look he gives cold; it's listening, refusing to affect the story that's being shared, in some control of emotion for once than the usual instant reactions he's one to give. Red gaze tries to follow after Komaeda's when it leaves, but the thick pieces block him. He bites in his bottom lip.
He knows this part of the tale. The part that had confused him in the timeline of their despair from the pieces he had accumulated over knowing classmates of that world. It twisted in him still, his skin drying off moisture, off tears. Another disgusting piece of their history.
Their life was so screwed up. Komaeda was too. He always suspected it, but still--
Red moves his hand in his, to make sure it properly moulds into the space of his palm, while he takes his other from Charizard to the back of Komaeda's neck, to bring his head to just barely meet that of his forehead. Or maybe it's just resting in that bed of hair. His head certainly wasn't bowed for it, the older guy far taller than him.
But whatever it is, it's enough, where Red doesn't even say anything for a quiet moment. He lets out a breathe that can be heard, and Charizard's head under them goes to rest on Red's lap. And there, the air warms. The day that actually exists is allowed to be remembered, the heat more of a tender comfort than anything suffocating. A homely, safe feeling.
A reminder of being close to someone loved and their security. One with a soul of fire. ]
...I don't think what you did was right. Everything that happened wasn't right. [ Once again, Red's voice is soft, but this time because any higher is unnecessary. It's clear, and honest. ] ...but I really care about the Komaeda here today. You gave me someone to trust, when I wasn't sure if I could trust myself.
You reminded me how to do that too. Just now. You reminded me.
[ Just by being with him. There's nothing he can see but strands of white, but his eyes keep barely opened. ]
...we're more scared of ourselves than each other.
[ He was sure it was true, but it was his own way of saying as well, with another squeeze of his hand brought up to his chest--
no subject
He knows this part of the tale. The part that had confused him in the timeline of their despair from the pieces he had accumulated over knowing classmates of that world. It twisted in him still, his skin drying off moisture, off tears. Another disgusting piece of their history.
Their life was so screwed up. Komaeda was too. He always suspected it, but still--
Red moves his hand in his, to make sure it properly moulds into the space of his palm, while he takes his other from Charizard to the back of Komaeda's neck, to bring his head to just barely meet that of his forehead. Or maybe it's just resting in that bed of hair. His head certainly wasn't bowed for it, the older guy far taller than him.
But whatever it is, it's enough, where Red doesn't even say anything for a quiet moment. He lets out a breathe that can be heard, and Charizard's head under them goes to rest on Red's lap. And there, the air warms. The day that actually exists is allowed to be remembered, the heat more of a tender comfort than anything suffocating. A homely, safe feeling.
A reminder of being close to someone loved and their security. One with a soul of fire. ]
...I don't think what you did was right. Everything that happened wasn't right. [ Once again, Red's voice is soft, but this time because any higher is unnecessary. It's clear, and honest. ] ...but I really care about the Komaeda here today. You gave me someone to trust, when I wasn't sure if I could trust myself.
You reminded me how to do that too. Just now. You reminded me.
[ Just by being with him. There's nothing he can see but strands of white, but his eyes keep barely opened. ]
...we're more scared of ourselves than each other.
[ He was sure it was true, but it was his own way of saying as well, with another squeeze of his hand brought up to his chest--
I'm not scared of you. You mean a lot to me. ]