Springstar fades the longer they grasp one another's souls, the longer their blood presses up against them, instead taken over by.
Amos' eyes flutter shut as he cooly exhales, tipping his head back.
Because the things he's seeing from Hayame are objectively horrible. He's been that mouth before. He's resided among orphans. My mom, too, he thinks at the impression of Hayame's mom being led away to be fucked, an accidental thought rising to the surface in the moment. It's not quite the same, but the gist of it is. Another thing to have in common. Another vulnerability exposed.
And yet it all seems so meaningless in the moment, pales in comparison to what he's really getting from this.
Because as Amos starts to find himself getting lost in Hayame's memories, the content isn't what he's drawn to. They are horrible; they are hell; he cannot think of anybody he would ever wish such things upon. But more than that... they bring clarity. The Zenith gracing these memories brings with it the sense of finality, the knowledge that everything will come to an end, and there is peace in that. He lets himself fall back into it, be surrounded by it, let it embrace him once again.
This world was hell, and it is no more, and that brings with it a refreshing balm. It's everything he's been missing since afflicted with Meridian, since experiencing a futile desperation for things that are dead and gone and not coming back. His lips part and his fingers scrabble for a grip against Hayame's, digging in almost painfully with the force of gratitude he needs to communicate to her for giving him this again. For letting him feel like himself again.
As he slowly soaks up more of the Zenith within her — more, it's a drug, it's relaxing and cooling and one of the most beautiful things he's ever felt, especially compared to the past few days — Amos' eyes flutter back open, his head righting itself as he seeks her own gaze out. He could kiss her. He could do anything she asks of him, as long as she keeps giving him this.
As long as she takes away the pain he doesn't know how to feel, frees him from constantly trying to reach out for a past that will never come back. ]
cw references to csa, prostitution
Springstar fades the longer they grasp one another's souls, the longer their blood presses up against them, instead taken over by.
Amos' eyes flutter shut as he cooly exhales, tipping his head back.
Because the things he's seeing from Hayame are objectively horrible. He's been that mouth before. He's resided among orphans. My mom, too, he thinks at the impression of Hayame's mom being led away to be fucked, an accidental thought rising to the surface in the moment. It's not quite the same, but the gist of it is. Another thing to have in common. Another vulnerability exposed.
And yet it all seems so meaningless in the moment, pales in comparison to what he's really getting from this.
Because as Amos starts to find himself getting lost in Hayame's memories, the content isn't what he's drawn to. They are horrible; they are hell; he cannot think of anybody he would ever wish such things upon. But more than that... they bring clarity. The Zenith gracing these memories brings with it the sense of finality, the knowledge that everything will come to an end, and there is peace in that. He lets himself fall back into it, be surrounded by it, let it embrace him once again.
This world was hell, and it is no more, and that brings with it a refreshing balm. It's everything he's been missing since afflicted with Meridian, since experiencing a futile desperation for things that are dead and gone and not coming back. His lips part and his fingers scrabble for a grip against Hayame's, digging in almost painfully with the force of gratitude he needs to communicate to her for giving him this again. For letting him feel like himself again.
As he slowly soaks up more of the Zenith within her — more, it's a drug, it's relaxing and cooling and one of the most beautiful things he's ever felt, especially compared to the past few days — Amos' eyes flutter back open, his head righting itself as he seeks her own gaze out. He could kiss her. He could do anything she asks of him, as long as she keeps giving him this.
As long as she takes away the pain he doesn't know how to feel, frees him from constantly trying to reach out for a past that will never come back. ]