hidan drops the last of the photographs into the trash his wearisome pallid hands trembling as the last polaroid began to singe to ruins. his eyes were left baptised bordering waterlines at the cinder and smoke caressing through the heavens. the zealot rationalised to the past, his sunken eyes falling shut in concentration, imprisoning each magenta orb behind tired skin. they had been satisfactory, yet far from perfect, it hurt him to think back to every inebriated fight, every time his pale hand was encased so gently within the others.
pacing away from the rising conflagration, his path reached the shore, barren feet, bruised and crippled from fruitless hours of ballet, smoothly touched and pet by the ocean's care. hidan had loved to dance, every breathtaking moment, gracing him with adrenaline, the feeling of being alive. it was the same sensitivity he had gotten from the man in the photographs, now held with the same regretful agony.
the aroma of whiskey had become a signal of his terror, the thick scent leaving the miser's lips with each accusation. yet he missed the rough calloused touch of each caress, and each tender kiss kakuzu had offered. the jashinist knew he should have stayed, arms wrapped securely around the only mortal he had learned to trust.
he wanted to run, so he had, every precious memory of their days turned to charcoal. every long breathless call, every text, sinking down into the void of the ocean. continuing his journey with opened eyes, his desolate face began to empty, appearing almost lifeless as he stepped onto the abandoned dock. the cleats had long gone rusted, some even gone all together, it had be awhile since they stood here, hand in hand. they had watched this same sunset, sharing the same desperate 'i love yous'. they had gotten so high, they'd forgotten how to fall, and the impact was torture.
holding his breath, this one last time, hidan stepped off the edge, his empty eyes closing as he fell into the icy water. he accepted the blistering cold, the jashinist let his body sink, void of any pain. if he couldn't be with life, he'd find comfort in death.
