[ The world shifts around them, and Red only acknowledges it by what he sees from the corners of his eyes, never allowing his focus to leave Komaeda once. The rain makes his head twitch when the drops patter on his skin, but he wipes it away a single time with the back of his hand before giving up on caring.
Because Komaeda's words are a far bigger tidal wave washing over him, and they're what make him really cringe. He can't sit there and take it all and not feel the pain behind them sink into his own chest--to hear them lose someone that way, to not feel the ghost of that same anger for what was done to this person, by Junko, all their misery always leading back to her. It causes a low mist to form around his legs, thickened by the presence of the heat inside it too, the mix of anger and grief combined.
Yet when the mist fades out, that heat doesn't. The world shows itself for the illusion it is when the cold of the temperature leaves to his warmth that isn't engulfing or boiling, but simmering with a passion. It no longer feels like night but like day, closer to reality, but one in summer than that bordering winter.
Red curls his hands into tight fists, one sitting between them as he comes in a little closer again. ]
You won't fall like that. Not again. Junko can't find that kind of power over you again, and even if she found something-- if anything tries to drag you back down, you'll come back up. That's a promise.
I'm not the only one making it either. You are, too. [ He breathes in one of those deep breaths he hasn't in a while, the emotions about it rolling with it; descending, and then rising again, and a smile splits momentarily upon his mouth. ] I know...you won't let yourself go without a fight.
[ There's no room for doubt. With a pause, Red reaches and takes one of Komaeda's hands, still all that passion and intensity in him. He looks at them, judging it, as if not sure himself what to do next-- because no, it isn't enough. So, with no thought for his own legs or the comfort of his body, he finds something better by lifting himself forward enough to swing his arm to press a hand at the back of white hair, for just this time taller than the older guy with his shoulder closer to his chin, and his own head pressed to the side of his. ]
I'm sorry, Komaeda. [ Closer now, the grief that continued to exist beneath all that fire can be sensed, just as the warmth now envelops more with a love and compassion inside every part of Red's body for the friend he holds. It doesn't leave him, even as a small frustration comes out in his next words, which he doesn't say until he's tilted his face more into that hair, that need to comfort and to be there for someone who's grown so important to him so--overwhelming. ]
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Because Komaeda's words are a far bigger tidal wave washing over him, and they're what make him really cringe. He can't sit there and take it all and not feel the pain behind them sink into his own chest--to hear them lose someone that way, to not feel the ghost of that same anger for what was done to this person, by Junko, all their misery always leading back to her. It causes a low mist to form around his legs, thickened by the presence of the heat inside it too, the mix of anger and grief combined.
Yet when the mist fades out, that heat doesn't. The world shows itself for the illusion it is when the cold of the temperature leaves to his warmth that isn't engulfing or boiling, but simmering with a passion. It no longer feels like night but like day, closer to reality, but one in summer than that bordering winter.
Red curls his hands into tight fists, one sitting between them as he comes in a little closer again. ]
You won't fall like that. Not again. Junko can't find that kind of power over you again, and even if she found something-- if anything tries to drag you back down, you'll come back up. That's a promise.
I'm not the only one making it either. You are, too. [ He breathes in one of those deep breaths he hasn't in a while, the emotions about it rolling with it; descending, and then rising again, and a smile splits momentarily upon his mouth. ] I know...you won't let yourself go without a fight.
[ There's no room for doubt. With a pause, Red reaches and takes one of Komaeda's hands, still all that passion and intensity in him. He looks at them, judging it, as if not sure himself what to do next-- because no, it isn't enough. So, with no thought for his own legs or the comfort of his body, he finds something better by lifting himself forward enough to swing his arm to press a hand at the back of white hair, for just this time taller than the older guy with his shoulder closer to his chin, and his own head pressed to the side of his. ]
I'm sorry, Komaeda. [ Closer now, the grief that continued to exist beneath all that fire can be sensed, just as the warmth now envelops more with a love and compassion inside every part of Red's body for the friend he holds. It doesn't leave him, even as a small frustration comes out in his next words, which he doesn't say until he's tilted his face more into that hair, that need to comfort and to be there for someone who's grown so important to him so--overwhelming. ]
Don't keep something like this to yourself.