...
-just so i don't lose it:
We all loved once, said Hidan, laughing a little bitterly (uncharacteristic, Kakuzu wondered), and that is the exact fucking reason we don’t love anymore.
“Who did you love?” Kakuzu did not care, but he was curious. Hidan is fucked up and he knows it, the man who swears and raves while his head dangles from his neck by a thread, curses his opponents as Kakuzu stitches his arms back on.
Hidan did not tell him and Kakuzu was left with nothing but dark thoughts, and a lingering desire to know of Hidan’s pain. “Humour me,” he said, avoiding the jagged gleam of Hidan’s eye but Hidan only looked away, fingers grazing his rosary as if he was remembering something distant and faded. It was unlike Hidan-the silence, for Kakuzu has begun to associate a sort of frenetic energy to the man. As if Hidan is surrounded by colour and noise, as if he never travels alone. Comparatively Kakuzu felt shrouded, remote, traveling with silence and pockets full of lead. But now Hidan seemed weighed down by drudgery, the dullness and length of their tasks, Kakuzu’s reminders, fierce in his ear, their Leader’s vicious judgment. Hidan is still, pinned by a lack of blood, a lack of pain, a lack of noise. Love, love never crossed Kakuzu’s mind. Love is dead; it died a long time ago with a wail and a crash and a hiss.
Kakuzu shook the thoughts away as Hidan tripped over a root and swore loudly and the noise, the discord is back. Hidan takes from those around his, a vital black hole, to create his human masterpiece of beauty and sound.
Kakuzu used to long to be touched. Hold me, he used to whisper to the unfamiliar darkness, he had not felt another human’s skin in decades. His hands were cold beneath his gloves.
-tallah
We all loved once, said Hidan, laughing a little bitterly (uncharacteristic, Kakuzu wondered), and that is the exact fucking reason we don’t love anymore.
“Who did you love?” Kakuzu did not care, but he was curious. Hidan is fucked up and he knows it, the man who swears and raves while his head dangles from his neck by a thread, curses his opponents as Kakuzu stitches his arms back on.
Hidan did not tell him and Kakuzu was left with nothing but dark thoughts, and a lingering desire to know of Hidan’s pain. “Humour me,” he said, avoiding the jagged gleam of Hidan’s eye but Hidan only looked away, fingers grazing his rosary as if he was remembering something distant and faded. It was unlike Hidan-the silence, for Kakuzu has begun to associate a sort of frenetic energy to the man. As if Hidan is surrounded by colour and noise, as if he never travels alone. Comparatively Kakuzu felt shrouded, remote, traveling with silence and pockets full of lead. But now Hidan seemed weighed down by drudgery, the dullness and length of their tasks, Kakuzu’s reminders, fierce in his ear, their Leader’s vicious judgment. Hidan is still, pinned by a lack of blood, a lack of pain, a lack of noise. Love, love never crossed Kakuzu’s mind. Love is dead; it died a long time ago with a wail and a crash and a hiss.
Kakuzu shook the thoughts away as Hidan tripped over a root and swore loudly and the noise, the discord is back. Hidan takes from those around his, a vital black hole, to create his human masterpiece of beauty and sound.
Kakuzu used to long to be touched. Hold me, he used to whisper to the unfamiliar darkness, he had not felt another human’s skin in decades. His hands were cold beneath his gloves.
-tallah