[ it was hard not to think about anything other than what might come next, and that thought terrified yuuji more than what he had already seen. this illusion had a steady pattern, a moving plot into a conclusion that will hit him where it really hurts, and they knew how to do it. whoever the fuck rooted those figures knew they can manipulate and trigger each individual's traumas to life. the crimson water in sukuna's domain, the seeping blood— the glimpse of corpses from afar, coming closer with each vision.
... and he could almost recognize them.
he didn't want to see it anymore. he didn't want to go through it. the fear is so crippling despite the uneasy composure yuuji managed to imitate; always guarded from sharing too much. until he felt megumi's hand against his cheek, beckoning him to tilt his head to meet his eyes— what he could see is concern and a foreign hint of affection behind those greenish hues. the thought of lying to his friend with an 'I'm fine' didn't even cross his mind, not this time. instead, he exhaled a soft breath, shaking his head a bit- ]
I know it's- ...
[ -fake. not real. it's those stupid figures fucking up with his head. yuuji knows; he's aware and lucid to understand he's still here with megumi and not in that abyss. and yet— his voice breaks a bit, in a way megumi probably never heard before. another exhale followed, cheeks a bit feverish up to the tip of each ear. ]
... but it still hurts.
[ there is always that moment when a line is crossed and one reaches a limit, physically, emotionally, and mentally. yuuji had seen plenty of gruesome imagery in his life but being taunted by his deceased loved ones is something he knew, at this stage, could not handle. the hallucination is building up to it, he knew he was being pulled closer, he knew the endgame is to see their mutilated faces— he couldn't do it.
he begins to shrug off the binds on his shoulders, loosening their grip until he hears the loud thud of his bag striking the ground. free of that burden, yuuji takes a step toward the other, he then slowly leans in to— rest his head on megumi's shoulder; his arms remain on each side for now. he closed his eyes, not yet relaxing into it, muscles so stiff against the other. ]
no subject
... and he could almost recognize them.
he didn't want to see it anymore. he didn't want to go through it. the fear is so crippling despite the uneasy composure yuuji managed to imitate; always guarded from sharing too much. until he felt megumi's hand against his cheek, beckoning him to tilt his head to meet his eyes— what he could see is concern and a foreign hint of affection behind those greenish hues. the thought of lying to his friend with an 'I'm fine' didn't even cross his mind, not this time. instead, he exhaled a soft breath, shaking his head a bit- ]
I know it's- ...
[ -fake. not real. it's those stupid figures fucking up with his head. yuuji knows; he's aware and lucid to understand he's still here with megumi and not in that abyss. and yet— his voice breaks a bit, in a way megumi probably never heard before. another exhale followed, cheeks a bit feverish up to the tip of each ear. ]
... but it still hurts.
[ there is always that moment when a line is crossed and one reaches a limit, physically, emotionally, and mentally. yuuji had seen plenty of gruesome imagery in his life but being taunted by his deceased loved ones is something he knew, at this stage, could not handle. the hallucination is building up to it, he knew he was being pulled closer, he knew the endgame is to see their mutilated faces— he couldn't do it.
he begins to shrug off the binds on his shoulders, loosening their grip until he hears the loud thud of his bag striking the ground. free of that burden, yuuji takes a step toward the other, he then slowly leans in to— rest his head on megumi's shoulder; his arms remain on each side for now. he closed his eyes, not yet relaxing into it, muscles so stiff against the other. ]