It's Dokja's turn for silence, and it stretches on for so very long. His heart aches in such a way that he thinks it could tear itself into countless pieces, scattering them the way he'd wanted himself to when he'd pressed his fingers against the glass of the subway train in a desperate attempt to get the pain to stop. It hurts now more than ever, knowing what they'd done.
[ The scenarios weren't easy, but they were easier. The pain and suffering inflicted upon them were nothing in comparison to what they had to witness in the train car, the words given to them by that reader's protector.
Sorrow seeps in, deep enough that maybe ghosts of it can be felt through the unstable connection. It's longing returned. ]
[ He can imagine. Not a clear picture, but enough of one to know. While Dokja isn't certain how time works after being dropped into Horos, he vividly remembers the fragile mental state he'd been before arriving here.
The fragile mental state he's in now. ]
I won't.
[ There's a smile in his voice. Tired, but small and fond. ]
[ Fool. Joonghyuk doesn’t enjoy how comforting it is to hear the other man be insufferable and aggravating—he just wants to wring him by the neck. He doesn’t like how comfortable it is in this flavor of misery.
But it’s all that he’s known, isn’t it? Hope. Despite scattered pieces, the dark abyss, the future he doesn’t know… Hope breaks him, then builds him up again. ]
I’ll drag you home.
[ However many times he needs to—however many times he can. To protect all he should protect, to affirm who he is and his purpose, to live happily like he and their companions rightfully deserve, he will suffer. ]
[ Home... It almost sounds possible when Joonghyuk says it, and Dokja tries to ignore the way his heart thumps a little louder in his chest at the declaration.
If anyone could do it, then...
Ah. He catches himself before he thinks about it any more than he already has. Whatever their chances may be, he knows it's not with the Kenoma. ]
I'll see you when I see you.
[ For now, he'll choose to ignore what Joonghyuk says, and he'll cut off their Communion here. ]
no subject
Almost perfect.
It's Dokja's turn for silence, and it stretches on for so very long. His heart aches in such a way that he thinks it could tear itself into countless pieces, scattering them the way he'd wanted himself to when he'd pressed his fingers against the glass of the subway train in a desperate attempt to get the pain to stop. It hurts now more than ever, knowing what they'd done.
And with it, the faintest flicker of longing. ]
It must have been hard for everyone.
no subject
[ The scenarios weren't easy, but they were easier. The pain and suffering inflicted upon them were nothing in comparison to what they had to witness in the train car, the words given to them by that reader's protector.
Sorrow seeps in, deep enough that maybe ghosts of it can be felt through the unstable connection. It's longing returned. ]
You won't change your mind.
no subject
The fragile mental state he's in now. ]
I won't.
[ There's a smile in his voice. Tired, but small and fond. ]
It wouldn't be like me if I did. You know that.
no subject
But it’s all that he’s known, isn’t it? Hope. Despite scattered pieces, the dark abyss, the future he doesn’t know… Hope breaks him, then builds him up again. ]
I’ll drag you home.
[ However many times he needs to—however many times he can. To protect all he should protect, to affirm who he is and his purpose, to live happily like he and their companions rightfully deserve, he will suffer. ]
Heed my warning.
[ Don’t stand in his way. ]
no subject
If anyone could do it, then...
Ah. He catches himself before he thinks about it any more than he already has. Whatever their chances may be, he knows it's not with the Kenoma. ]
I'll see you when I see you.
[ For now, he'll choose to ignore what Joonghyuk says, and he'll cut off their Communion here. ]