Date: 2012-05-27 08:05 am (UTC)
eightypercentandadevil: (Shotarou | Yeah and your mom too)
From: [personal profile] eightypercentandadevil
//I don't mean my voice to come out as the growl that it does. Really. I push W up to a sitting position, mindful of the Xtreme driver's wings. Never has its size and breadth felt as awkward and dangerous as it does now. One wrong nudge to it, and...

//"In some way? What does that mean, Hino?"

Date: 2012-05-27 08:36 am (UTC)
eightypercentandadevil: (Shotarou | //Don't do this to me)
From: [personal profile] eightypercentandadevil
Shotarou remains still. After a long moment, I realize he's forgotten to let us breathe. I instruct our lungs to do so, and W draws a sharp breath inward.//

"Shotarou," I begin, speaking externally for Eiji-san's benefit. He is part of this conversation. Potentially, the most important part.//

//"Philip." I echo my aibou, taking anchor from his voice, his steadiness. Why can't I be as steady as my devil? Why am I not yet strong enough to finish this ride we've started?

//...Because I never wanted it to end.

"Shotarou. I never wanted it to end, either," I murmur. I take his hand in mine - he's too numb to keep me from the physical controls - and W sits with its hands clasped, Shotarou and I holding on to each other.//

//"Hino." My voice is rough, hoarse. "He comes back. Did we..." I won't say "I." That would be a defeat in and of itself.

//"Did we say how much it was "him," for real?"

"Whoever you spoke with," I clarify, clenching Shotarou's hand tightly. "Did that source indicate that I was...recovered...in largely the same manner as I--"//

//No, that's not right.//

//We rephrase, and ask him together, our voice less recognizable as individually either of ours.//

//"Philip comes back? Philip, not Raito, not...the program. Philip?"//

//"...My Philip?"

Date: 2012-05-27 09:06 am (UTC)
eightypercentandadevil: (Shotarou | //Don't do this to me)
From: [personal profile] eightypercentandadevil
//We can't quite breathe.//

"And...we told you this?"//

//If we both told him it...then we were both there to tell him.

If we did tell him that, Shotarou...//


//I grit my teeth. I still don't want to do it, but -

//"And you had no reason not to believe us?"

//Adrenaline washes through me again. I can feel Philip wince. It's hurting me, too. His hope is so bright, though, it's lighting me up from inside. He hopes that this is the way out - that this is how he can save me from this situation he feels is all his doing.

//I breathe deeply, calming myself. As long as my devil will ride with me, I will not crack. I won't.

1/2

Date: 2012-05-27 09:15 am (UTC)
eightypercentandadevil: (Philip | Peace)
From: [personal profile] eightypercentandadevil
//We lean into Eiji's hold on our shoulders. We can use all the support and grounding we can get, right now.//

"Shotarou..."//

//I squeeze Philip's hand tightly, then let go, crossing my hand further past the meridian of our body. Philip inhales hard, choking back a sound that might have been a whine of emotion wrung too tight.

//My hand comes to rest on the hilt of the Xtreme driver. I swallow hard. Eighty percent, I tell myself. Eighty percent of a man's job is being decisive.

//"You come find me, Philip," I tell him. "I don't care what it takes. No excuses. You-- you come find me."

Within, I wrap myself around Shotarou, pressing as close as I can manage. The fray of data around my edges is picking up speed. All this emotion, and the delay of time since the end of the battle - I wouldn't have long anyway.//

"Do you have the courage...to wait for this devil?" I ask him.//

//"Always."

//I close the driver.

2/2

Date: 2012-05-27 09:17 am (UTC)
eightypercentandadevil: (Shotarou | Neutral)
From: [personal profile] eightypercentandadevil
I'm vaguely aware, after a while, that my head's resting on someone's knee. Hino-san's, it must be. I'm curled up on my side...on my left side, on the bed. I think I've been shaking a lot, because all the muscles in my body are burning with pain.

All I can hear is quiet. Silence. The W belt is clutched in my hand and I'm probably bruising my palm by gripping it too hard. Philip's Cyclone memory is clutched in my other hand.

It feels cold.

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