[Komaeda's breath catches as those fingers wrap around his wrist, further when his chin is taken. But he realizes what's being done, realizes Kamukura (Hajime. My Hajime. You have to be. I know you're still here.) is looking him over. Still, he's startled when his shirt is torn, the tearing sound somehow sharp, loud in the now empty alleyway.
So quiet and there's so much blood and the boy in front of him is drenched in it, and none of that matters. Both their hands were already soaked in blood before this, have been for so long. The only thing that matters right now is those eyes, that looking into them shows so little of what he's looking for -- but still, something, enough of a glimmer of Hinata for there to be a glimmer of hope, and that is enough for the moment.]
He is. Very different. But you're him. [Part of him? Or Hinata is part of Kamukura? He's not sure which it is, all he knows is that he promised Hinata he wouldn't let him disappear.] He's you. Somehow, isn't that still true?
[Otherwise, why would Kamukura have come after him? Why would he be holding that cloth to his head? It's the logic that Komaeda is clinging to as he steps in that much closer, leaning close, enough to rest his forehead against the other's, able to feel the scars across that forehead as he does.] I made a promise, you know. [And he's not sure how he'll be able to keep it. But he'll do it, somehow. For now he tilts his chin up, enough to catch the other boy's lips with his own. It works in children's stories, doesn't it? But even Komaeda doubts something so crucial can be so simple.]
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So quiet and there's so much blood and the boy in front of him is drenched in it, and none of that matters. Both their hands were already soaked in blood before this, have been for so long. The only thing that matters right now is those eyes, that looking into them shows so little of what he's looking for -- but still, something, enough of a glimmer of Hinata for there to be a glimmer of hope, and that is enough for the moment.]
He is. Very different. But you're him. [Part of him? Or Hinata is part of Kamukura? He's not sure which it is, all he knows is that he promised Hinata he wouldn't let him disappear.] He's you. Somehow, isn't that still true?
[Otherwise, why would Kamukura have come after him? Why would he be holding that cloth to his head? It's the logic that Komaeda is clinging to as he steps in that much closer, leaning close, enough to rest his forehead against the other's, able to feel the scars across that forehead as he does.] I made a promise, you know. [And he's not sure how he'll be able to keep it. But he'll do it, somehow. For now he tilts his chin up, enough to catch the other boy's lips with his own. It works in children's stories, doesn't it? But even Komaeda doubts something so crucial can be so simple.]