Disclaimer: Following characters are not my property, fortunately, or they
wouldn't exist anymore for other writers to use.
Light
- Hyperventilater.
He awoke to the sound of water crashing upon rocks. It was loud, but muted, and it rumbled. He could feel the mild tremble of the earth beneath his fingertips, and the coarse bark of the dead tree he was laid against. The air was humid, near the huge waterfall, fresh and salty. It would have been perfect, the sight to behold, but Jubei could not see, nor appreciate the view. His eyes he kept firmly shut. The world before him was dark, and empty. It wouldn't matter when he opened his eyes. Yes, the gloom might - would - be less pronounced, but the hollowness would still be there, waiting.
Katsuki was there, somewhere behind him. He didn't have to be, Jubei knew, but he was. And more importantly, he still cared. Jubei wondered if Katsuki would always care. And then, there was that strange feeling from deep within again, resurfacing. It didn't twist, and it wasn't a squirming feeling; it felt flat and heavy, and it wouldn't go away. Jubei wanted so bad to get rid of it, but he couldn't, he didn't know how.
It was dark, and a burden to carry, weighing Jubei down. He felt so weary, and so tired, worrying about it lurking around somewhere deep down. Was it guilt? No, more. Like anger, pain, frustration, confusion, regret and relief all thrown into the very needles he thrust into himself when realisation struck so hard. Embedded so firmly, almost fatally. Black as death. The dusky hole in front of him seemed to solidify.
"Katsuki." Jubei didn't turn to face him. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't a bad thing Jubei lost his sight. He wouldn't have had been ready, then, and it would have been so much harder to face the one you loved, and later betrayed. No. Jubei felt a sudden urge to apologise again. It was, after all, his own fault. And Katsuki.Katsuki never blamed him. Just.accepted it.accepted him. Jubei didn't think he deserved a 'forgive'.
"Shh.I know."
Jubei felt Katsuki's fingers smooth out the creases in the bandages around his eyes. The soft touch was soothing, and real. Katsuki understood, and he didn't need to hear any more apologies, any more guilt in Jubei's tone. Jubei felt comforted by that, and his that black load inside him seemed to ease. As long as Katsuki understood.
Then there were words, itching at the tip of his tongue. Words familiar to his lips, like the grateful ones, and the soft ones too. But Jubei kept silent. They weren't worth saying, if Katsuki already knew. It didn't take Jubei words so Katsuki could hear. He heard, when they sat side by side listening to the pounding of falling torrents, Jubei's hand holding on firmly, but gently, to Katsuki's. Or when they could stay, in peaceful silence, Katsuki's skilled fingers combing through Jubei's hair. And as they lay, in the thick grasses, Katsuki closing his eyes so he too could see the same stars Jubei imagined under their velvet night, Jubei listening to Katsuki's heartbeat, searching for those that beat in sync with his own. Katsuki heard, from the way they belonged. Together, and to each other.
"I know, Jubei," Katsuki repeated, gingerly unwinding the loosening bandages. "Come, let us see."
The warmth of the bandages left his eyelids, and in its place the cool air around the thundering waterfall felt tingly on his exposed skin. Jubei nodded, and his eyelids lifted hesitatingly.
And suddenly, everything was light.
Light
- Hyperventilater.
He awoke to the sound of water crashing upon rocks. It was loud, but muted, and it rumbled. He could feel the mild tremble of the earth beneath his fingertips, and the coarse bark of the dead tree he was laid against. The air was humid, near the huge waterfall, fresh and salty. It would have been perfect, the sight to behold, but Jubei could not see, nor appreciate the view. His eyes he kept firmly shut. The world before him was dark, and empty. It wouldn't matter when he opened his eyes. Yes, the gloom might - would - be less pronounced, but the hollowness would still be there, waiting.
Katsuki was there, somewhere behind him. He didn't have to be, Jubei knew, but he was. And more importantly, he still cared. Jubei wondered if Katsuki would always care. And then, there was that strange feeling from deep within again, resurfacing. It didn't twist, and it wasn't a squirming feeling; it felt flat and heavy, and it wouldn't go away. Jubei wanted so bad to get rid of it, but he couldn't, he didn't know how.
It was dark, and a burden to carry, weighing Jubei down. He felt so weary, and so tired, worrying about it lurking around somewhere deep down. Was it guilt? No, more. Like anger, pain, frustration, confusion, regret and relief all thrown into the very needles he thrust into himself when realisation struck so hard. Embedded so firmly, almost fatally. Black as death. The dusky hole in front of him seemed to solidify.
"Katsuki." Jubei didn't turn to face him. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't a bad thing Jubei lost his sight. He wouldn't have had been ready, then, and it would have been so much harder to face the one you loved, and later betrayed. No. Jubei felt a sudden urge to apologise again. It was, after all, his own fault. And Katsuki.Katsuki never blamed him. Just.accepted it.accepted him. Jubei didn't think he deserved a 'forgive'.
"Shh.I know."
Jubei felt Katsuki's fingers smooth out the creases in the bandages around his eyes. The soft touch was soothing, and real. Katsuki understood, and he didn't need to hear any more apologies, any more guilt in Jubei's tone. Jubei felt comforted by that, and his that black load inside him seemed to ease. As long as Katsuki understood.
Then there were words, itching at the tip of his tongue. Words familiar to his lips, like the grateful ones, and the soft ones too. But Jubei kept silent. They weren't worth saying, if Katsuki already knew. It didn't take Jubei words so Katsuki could hear. He heard, when they sat side by side listening to the pounding of falling torrents, Jubei's hand holding on firmly, but gently, to Katsuki's. Or when they could stay, in peaceful silence, Katsuki's skilled fingers combing through Jubei's hair. And as they lay, in the thick grasses, Katsuki closing his eyes so he too could see the same stars Jubei imagined under their velvet night, Jubei listening to Katsuki's heartbeat, searching for those that beat in sync with his own. Katsuki heard, from the way they belonged. Together, and to each other.
"I know, Jubei," Katsuki repeated, gingerly unwinding the loosening bandages. "Come, let us see."
The warmth of the bandages left his eyelids, and in its place the cool air around the thundering waterfall felt tingly on his exposed skin. Jubei nodded, and his eyelids lifted hesitatingly.
And suddenly, everything was light.