[The way Juzo envisioned this going, he was already gone by now. But here he's gone and fucked that up too, like he does everything else—
Once in a while, maybe it's for the best.
He does manage a couple steps backwards when Kyosuke tosses the petal aside. It's only been raining for the brief time they've been standing here, but the ground already feels squishy beneath his feet, and he stumbles when he steps back, barely catching himself. At least, he's going to blame the ground for that, not his own clumsiness in his wound-up desperation to escape the situation. Of course, by the time Kyosuke whispers his name, he hasn't managed to make his escape yet. He's barely even started. As quiet as the word is out of Kyosuke's mouth, he's close enough to hear it easily.
Juzo would have told himself that there wasn't much Kyosuke could say that would stop him in his tracks. It would have been a lie—who is he kidding? He's fucking helpless to deny Kyosuke anything. Any attempt to stop him from leaving would have worked, even if it had been the shout of disgust that Juzo had expected. But, that aside, there's not much that would have cut his escape off shorter than this—his name, on Kyosuke's lips. The one word says so much more than wait or stop would have. It pulls Juzo's heart up into his mouth. He can feel his body crackling with another sparking line of static again and he knows it's red or orange this time, not blue.
The rain doesn't stop, but it begins to ease, just a little.]
Munakata—
[Even though that's all he's ever called him, it feels wrong in response to this. Still, it takes a few tries to get it right.]
K. K . . . K, Kyosuke.
[His face feels so fucking stupid right now. He's painfully aware of how open it is, compared to his usual closed-off scowl.]
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Once in a while, maybe it's for the best.
He does manage a couple steps backwards when Kyosuke tosses the petal aside. It's only been raining for the brief time they've been standing here, but the ground already feels squishy beneath his feet, and he stumbles when he steps back, barely catching himself. At least, he's going to blame the ground for that, not his own clumsiness in his wound-up desperation to escape the situation. Of course, by the time Kyosuke whispers his name, he hasn't managed to make his escape yet. He's barely even started. As quiet as the word is out of Kyosuke's mouth, he's close enough to hear it easily.
Juzo would have told himself that there wasn't much Kyosuke could say that would stop him in his tracks. It would have been a lie—who is he kidding? He's fucking helpless to deny Kyosuke anything. Any attempt to stop him from leaving would have worked, even if it had been the shout of disgust that Juzo had expected. But, that aside, there's not much that would have cut his escape off shorter than this—his name, on Kyosuke's lips. The one word says so much more than wait or stop would have. It pulls Juzo's heart up into his mouth. He can feel his body crackling with another sparking line of static again and he knows it's red or orange this time, not blue.
The rain doesn't stop, but it begins to ease, just a little.]
Munakata—
[Even though that's all he's ever called him, it feels wrong in response to this. Still, it takes a few tries to get it right.]
K. K . . . K, Kyosuke.
[His face feels so fucking stupid right now. He's painfully aware of how open it is, compared to his usual closed-off scowl.]
I . . .