[ He’s quietly ushering them back to the barracks, mind rushed with memories not his own; sleepless nights, dark alleyways, the empty apartment surrounded in darkness. The true Obikawa Kiyoshi - alone and with nothing else to lose, a man eaten alive by a god who chose to inhabit his body simply because of his name. Born and died and unfortunate. Nothing that Makoto needs to worry himself about.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe? Why isn’t he so sure of himself? ]
I don’t like getting hit. [ And he directs Makoto to his bunk, which was left in disarray and already marked as lived in by Obikawa - a discarded pair of shorts tossed at the end of the bed, an energy drink left somewhere on the floor. But did at least stash a few bandages in his pillowcase. ] I don’t like my friends getting hurt, either.
[ Did he expect he or someone else would get hurt? Who cares? ]
So if it means you’ll stay away from people who might hurt you, I don’t mind. But that doesn’t mean just hit me whenever you have some minor inconvenience. I’ll actually get mad at you. [ He holds up two flimsy bandages: one decorated with strawberries and another with wide smiles. ] Which one?
( makoto’s own human life had had very little of value to it. he’d been a subpar student at best, utterly friendless, unathletic, only really tolerated even in his own home… he could have vanished, and not a single person’s life would have been lesser for it. quite the contrary—there was sizable evidence to show that it probably would have bettered or made others’ lives safer. where he had summoned and contracted with a demon, the true obikawa kiyoshi had run afoul of a God; the states that they had eventually ended up in after those encounters would be darkly ironic to makoto, viewed in comparison. he’s never had any affection for gods. if any deity did exist, he hated them for creating such an unfortunate life as his and abandoning him to its consequences, even when he’d done nothing to bring it on or deserve it.
ah, but they would have to cross that bridge when they got to it, one day (in another thread).
when they arrive at the bunk, it doesn’t surprise him that it’s obikawa’s. there’s a certain amount of… haphazard disarray that suited him (unlike makoto, who fastidiously made the bed each morning). he hesitates a few steps away from it, absentmindedly rubbing at his right arm, where he knows a kaleidoscope of bruising is likely pressing up to the surface of the skin.
what obikawa offers is kind… in his own way. makoto thinks he rather enjoys kindness that’s not the typical, saccharine-sweet kind. he feels like he can trust it more.
nevertheless, he ultimately doesn’t think it’s all that necessary. he shakes his head. ) I, um… I don’t think what happened tonight is going to happen again. ( he attempts a thin, wan smile. ) I don’t like getting hit any more than you do.
( he doesn’t say anything about his friends getting hurt, though, because he kind of likes it when anyone gets hurt, but. he does understand the sentiment. if he knew that was the only reason obikawa was suffering such treatment, he’d feel bad about it. it was only from a mismanagement of his own emotions and frustration. he can find better outlets for that. )
So, hopefully I won’t give you any reason to get mad at me.
( his pale gaze moves between the two offered bandages. honestly… )
They’re both kind of terrible… ( though, after a moment’s pause, he picks the one with the smiles on it. )
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no subject
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe? Why isn’t he so sure of himself? ]
I don’t like getting hit. [ And he directs Makoto to his bunk, which was left in disarray and already marked as lived in by Obikawa - a discarded pair of shorts tossed at the end of the bed, an energy drink left somewhere on the floor. But did at least stash a few bandages in his pillowcase. ] I don’t like my friends getting hurt, either.
[ Did he expect he or someone else would get hurt? Who cares? ]
So if it means you’ll stay away from people who might hurt you, I don’t mind. But that doesn’t mean just hit me whenever you have some minor inconvenience. I’ll actually get mad at you. [ He holds up two flimsy bandages: one decorated with strawberries and another with wide smiles. ] Which one?
no subject
ah, but they would have to cross that bridge when they got to it, one day (in another thread).
when they arrive at the bunk, it doesn’t surprise him that it’s obikawa’s. there’s a certain amount of… haphazard disarray that suited him (unlike makoto, who fastidiously made the bed each morning). he hesitates a few steps away from it, absentmindedly rubbing at his right arm, where he knows a kaleidoscope of bruising is likely pressing up to the surface of the skin.
what obikawa offers is kind… in his own way. makoto thinks he rather enjoys kindness that’s not the typical, saccharine-sweet kind. he feels like he can trust it more.
nevertheless, he ultimately doesn’t think it’s all that necessary. he shakes his head. ) I, um… I don’t think what happened tonight is going to happen again. ( he attempts a thin, wan smile. ) I don’t like getting hit any more than you do.
( he doesn’t say anything about his friends getting hurt, though, because he kind of likes it when anyone gets hurt, but. he does understand the sentiment. if he knew that was the only reason obikawa was suffering such treatment, he’d feel bad about it. it was only from a mismanagement of his own emotions and frustration. he can find better outlets for that. )
So, hopefully I won’t give you any reason to get mad at me.
( his pale gaze moves between the two offered bandages. honestly… )
They’re both kind of terrible… ( though, after a moment’s pause, he picks the one with the smiles on it. )