A second drabble that stemmed from an event on Vocaloid RP dA. This is a 'part two' to the last drabble. More Migaito/Nikuo fluff for all! Please enjoy.
Small fingers slowly run along the edges of his kneecap, rubbing tiny circles with their finger pads. Green painted fingernails move enticingly along in these circles, almost in a hypnotizing manner.
He refuses to move from his curled up position, legs to his chest, face buried in his arms with tears cascading in rivers down his cheeks.
The fingers press a little deeper, sliding up his kneecap until they're touching his arm, rubbing it slowly.
"...M...Mikuo-kun..."
The voice of his green-haired friend cause him to bite his cheek painfully. He didn't dare say anything that would give more fodder to those that hurt him.
But the hand on his arm doesn't vanish like he wishes it would. It continues to touch him and feel him and share the warmth of skin upon skin, something he normally would enjoy.
Curling his body up even further, Mikuo attempted to scoot backwards against the wall, hiding himself behind various objects. He wanted to hide and never be found. To be left here and never have to face the pain and humiliation waiting out there for him.
He wasn't free for long, however. As soon as his back was pressed against the wall, the feeling of fingers caressing his legs and arms was back yet again.
"P-Please don't...Don't move..."
His body shook slightly, chest clenching up a bit more. The tears fell faster than before, and now he couldn't conceal his sobbing any longer.
Every sob came out louder than the last.
Sharper.
"I...Is there anything I can do...?"
That sentence almost makes him want to hit something. To lash out and hit whatever is closest to him. Tear it apart, rip it, shred it.
But instead, he speaks the words that are just as painful.
"...No...T-There's...Nothing you can...Nothing that...Nothing that anyone can do..."
Again, he breaks into sobbing. He hates it, he hates it so much that he's like this. He wants to stop crying, really, he wants to. But the more he tries to stop, the more he starts again.
The fingers are now at his wet cheek, stroking it gently.
Everyone he's known has betrayed him at one point or another. And everything he ever believed in has been thrown far beyond his reach of ever obtaining again.
Except for the boy sitting in front of him.
The boy whom gave him encouraging words, and told him it would be alright. The boy whom became a bit of a messenger to him, relaying information to others to remedy the situation.
It was this boy who had held him close and told him he would always be there. Not once had he slipped up on that promise of being as loyal a friend as that.
"I-I...I want to help...You..." That boy's little voice trembles, arms slowly wrapping as best they can around his friend's midsection.
For a long moment, he cries.
And then, he pulls his legs from his chest, and replaces them with the boy's, no, his friend's body.
His friend whom he can always trust.
He clenches on for who knows how long, bringing his legs up again so as to press their bodies together a bit further.
The young one doesn't seem to complain about this, merely going along with it and resting his head against Mikuo's chest.
They needn't move nor speak. The words needed are spoken in touches and caresses among themselves, tucked into the crates of props backstage.
His mind is closing right now, and he's tired.
Sleep is luring him in, and sure enough, his closed eyes remain shut. But before he drifts away to try and escape the world, he hears something whispered into his ear.
"I won't leave, Mikuo-kun..."
And at this moment? He lays there, fleeing from the world around him while curled up in his most trusted friend's grasp.
In the grasp of what remains of his sanity.
The grasp of those words.
I won't leave...
It's the last whispered promise he hopes will never be broken.