a/n:
welcome to my third comfort fic, a place where we can de-stress and let our imagination (and sanity) run wild and far from us. completely inspired by the hilariously well-crafted masterpiece that is the Boy Next Door, (you can find the K-Drama on youtube!) which i very much recommend checking out, i promise you won't regret it!
. . .
Chapter 0. Prologue Or Epilogue?
"...hey."
Gintoki's poorly disguised consternation booms ignobly across the grand monstrousness that just so happens to be the hottest venue in town, appropriately inappropriate given the appalling set of circumstances they've unwittingly dug themselves into.
And, even if aware the loose threads leading to this poor excuse of a close-knit plot will only be revealed a good chunk of chapters in, he ventures in further.
"What was the starting block of this clusterfuck, again?"
Toshiro goes for one last drag of one last cigarette, dragging it out with the bittersweet resignation of a man who fundamentally knows he won't get to live to see another day—not in the way he's been accustomed to, anyway—but refuses to acknowledge it all the same.
Before them hangs an aggressively eye-catching banner that seems to be an eyesore only for the leading players of this shitty game; so sore for the eyes, it's in fact enough to deprive them of all sense, the oppressive weight of its impending threat pressing uncomfortably against the bloodshot of their eyeballs.
JUST MARRIED!
Toshiro exhales. Smoke, denial and a simple reply swirl in the air above them.
"...who the fuck knows."
.
.
.
.
.
It's no good crying over spilt milk, because all the forces of the universe were bent on spilling it.
–W. Somerset Maugham