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[May 25: Truth Plot]
Poison hasn't left the apartment in days. Since the fight with Girl, he has barely moved at all. For the first day - as long as she was gone - he stayed in the bathroom. He moved to the floor, at some point, but he stayed there, among pieces of shattered mug, a bruise on his wrist, his back shoved to a wall.
He combs his fingers through his hair again and again and again until he tightens his grip and-- no. He resists that. But he can't stand the brightness of it.
Ghoul is dead. Jet and Kid are dead. All of them are dead, and it was his fucking-- his fucking what? Vision? Sense of purpose? That got all of them killed. Korse shot him. Korse, of all people, was the one to bring him down and possibly killed the rest of them. Even Dr. D and Cola are really gone.
Ghoul.
He doesn't know how long he lay there on the floor in the bathroom or when he ended up there, sharing at the fibers of the rug, willing himself to stop existing. He hears the door open and close, but doesn't move.
When he does finally leave the bathroom, realizing Girl might need it, if she's really back, his hair is... black. His hands are covered in dye, the tub is a bit of a mess. He makes it into his bedroom, at least. To the bed. How long later is that? He's not sure. No windows in the bathroom.
Every breath hurts, making him intensely aware of the rise and fall of his chest, the effort it takes. Once or twice he wonders if he could just stop.
Ghoul is dead.
I wish he was here instead of you.
I though you were better than that.
Everything he fought for. Everything he believed in. The last person from that world has already slipped through his fingers for what he's done.
He can feel it, if he thinks about it hard enough. He can remember what it feels like, every place touched by hands he hated. He remembers what state Ghoul was in when he finally saw him, after it all. He remembers the way everyone looked at him, until he could get clean.
He remembers never speaking of it, not even to Kid. Not even to Ghoul.
Poison turns his face into he pillow, staying there until his lungs hurt and whatever brain stem he has left forces him to turn his head again, freeing his mouth to breathe.
We can watch the world devoured in it's pain.
Poison hasn't left the apartment in days. Since the fight with Girl, he has barely moved at all. For the first day - as long as she was gone - he stayed in the bathroom. He moved to the floor, at some point, but he stayed there, among pieces of shattered mug, a bruise on his wrist, his back shoved to a wall.
He combs his fingers through his hair again and again and again until he tightens his grip and-- no. He resists that. But he can't stand the brightness of it.
Ghoul is dead. Jet and Kid are dead. All of them are dead, and it was his fucking-- his fucking what? Vision? Sense of purpose? That got all of them killed. Korse shot him. Korse, of all people, was the one to bring him down and possibly killed the rest of them. Even Dr. D and Cola are really gone.
Ghoul.
He doesn't know how long he lay there on the floor in the bathroom or when he ended up there, sharing at the fibers of the rug, willing himself to stop existing. He hears the door open and close, but doesn't move.
When he does finally leave the bathroom, realizing Girl might need it, if she's really back, his hair is... black. His hands are covered in dye, the tub is a bit of a mess. He makes it into his bedroom, at least. To the bed. How long later is that? He's not sure. No windows in the bathroom.
Every breath hurts, making him intensely aware of the rise and fall of his chest, the effort it takes. Once or twice he wonders if he could just stop.
Ghoul is dead.
I wish he was here instead of you.
I though you were better than that.
Everything he fought for. Everything he believed in. The last person from that world has already slipped through his fingers for what he's done.
He can feel it, if he thinks about it hard enough. He can remember what it feels like, every place touched by hands he hated. He remembers what state Ghoul was in when he finally saw him, after it all. He remembers the way everyone looked at him, until he could get clean.
He remembers never speaking of it, not even to Kid. Not even to Ghoul.
Poison turns his face into he pillow, staying there until his lungs hurt and whatever brain stem he has left forces him to turn his head again, freeing his mouth to breathe.
We can watch the world devoured in it's pain.
