the punch gets him to shut the fuck up, at least, reaching up and grabbing his arm afterwards and - he listens, too. almost shaking, white knuckling his sleeve. he's never known how to deal with any of his bad emotions, because they always turn into this, a vortex of nearly uncontrollable fury that threatens to grab him by the throat and drag him back into being mozuku's dog every time. at home, his brothers keep him level - even when he loses his temper at them, he's able to bring it back for them, but it's been six weeks and he misses them so badly it hurts. the last he saw of jiro or saburo was that stupid illusion in that stupid field trip and then he forgot them.
his eyes feel hot, and there's what feels like a lump gathering in his throat behind his adam's apple - what is he, a little kid? and he manages to shut the fuck up and try and stop.
he takes a deep, unsteady breath, pinches his eyes shut. ] Sorry. [ it's a little clipped. he's trying.
you help by being you. what the fuck has he done? what has he been gone for? all of ikebukuro was counting on him at home. his brothers were counting on him. and now, here, he has to be strong. i am strong.
is he?
the second one comes out a little more broken. ] Sorry.
I'm not - I'm not mad at you - [ god, fuck, he can't lose another one (wouldn't it be easier, just to push her away? to not fall into this again?)
whatever else he has to say doesn't quite make it out, beyond the lump in his throat. he loosens his grip on his own arm to just reach up and wipe his forearm across his face. ]
no subject
the punch gets him to shut the fuck up, at least, reaching up and grabbing his arm afterwards and - he listens, too. almost shaking, white knuckling his sleeve. he's never known how to deal with any of his bad emotions, because they always turn into this, a vortex of nearly uncontrollable fury that threatens to grab him by the throat and drag him back into being mozuku's dog every time. at home, his brothers keep him level - even when he loses his temper at them, he's able to bring it back for them, but it's been six weeks and he misses them so badly it hurts. the last he saw of jiro or saburo was that stupid illusion in that stupid field trip and then he forgot them.
his eyes feel hot, and there's what feels like a lump gathering in his throat behind his adam's apple - what is he, a little kid? and he manages to shut the fuck up and try and stop.
he takes a deep, unsteady breath, pinches his eyes shut. ] Sorry. [ it's a little clipped. he's trying.
you help by being you. what the fuck has he done? what has he been gone for? all of ikebukuro was counting on him at home. his brothers were counting on him. and now, here, he has to be strong. i am strong.
is he?
the second one comes out a little more broken. ] Sorry.
I'm not - I'm not mad at you - [ god, fuck, he can't lose another one (wouldn't it be easier, just to push her away? to not fall into this again?)
whatever else he has to say doesn't quite make it out, beyond the lump in his throat. he loosens his grip on his own arm to just reach up and wipe his forearm across his face. ]