and live in harmony harmony /headbutts stars

[disillude]

[ It's just one pain in the ass after another.

Wherever it is that Kakashi's been placed now, he lands there hard, catching his elbow against the edge of a wooden table as he falls, snapping his head back in time to narrowly keep his chin from smashing against the hard floor. The impact hurts, knocks the breath from his lungs and momentarily

Comments

[disillude]

[ He catches that double meaning. There's usually a second ( or third or fourth ) meaning in everything that Mukuro says. Sometimes, there's no meaning at all, but he'll have you thinking otherwise anyway. It's all part of his personality, all part of what makes him who he is, though Kakashi isn't nearly arrogant enough to presume he's even cracked the surface of Mukuro's well-kept shell.

For someone so cold, Mukuro is surprisingly warm, and the air, the atmosphere, around him is heavy like lead or cement, it weighs down on Kakashi's shoulders, on the back of his neck. He makes a noise low in his throat, something that could be acknowledgment, and lifts one hand toward Mukuro's side, and it hovers in the air, poised just inches from his jacket. ]

You should watch yours. [ The fingers of his other hand close tightly around one of the kunai at his belt as he tugs it free, and he leans into Mukuro, smiles faintly against his cheek, before he's moving to slam the blade toward his side

[disillude]

[ Kakashi only talks ( empty words ) because if he doesn't, he's sure that the silence will kill him.

And look at this little bitch go. Everything happens really quickly, much too quickly for his brain to absorb it all in a timely manner, his nerve endings and all the reactionary elements in his body lagging behind, not quite able to catch up with Mukuro. Kakashi doesn't even try to keep his Sharingan from activating now, it's instinctive, reflexive, it's built into who he is, just like how he can't keep the sparks of electricity from curving around his fingers and palms when his pulse spikes, and he can't --

He can't see through shit.

Mukuro's mouth closes over his own, and he's frozen for half a second, thinking, thinking, he doesn't need eye contact, but there has to be rules or guidelines, there has to be something that keeps him on a certain line, that keeps him on a particular path. Maybe they're not illusions, except -- there's no other explanation, it's impossible, maybe he's a demi-god. No, he just thinks he's a god. He

[tridented]

[ Now that’s a treat, watching Kakashi’s composure degrade further, like fine cracks forming along the surface of that unflappable mask until it all comes crumbling down in pieces, and what’s left is this- the raw urgency that’s so clearly visible in his eyes Mukuro doesn’t even need to try to read it, the kind that screams danger, danger, and evokes all sort of fight or flight instincts. It only serves to make him laugh, and he does, in between breaths and teeth and tongue.

As a general rule, skin does not make for a good conductor of electricity, but at this range, at this rate, it drips down past the surface and into his bones and there’s a crackle to the air, but he’s unaffected, how could that be? Maybe it’s an immunity built up over the years, electro shock therapy (haha).

Fifty hertz, fifty-two, and the ruins are crumbling, engulfed by flames that are going nowhere fast

[disillude]

[ His head feels heavy, like it's being weighed down with copper and lead, and Kakashi isn't sure if it's from the lack of air, or if it's because of how fast his heart is beating, skipping a turn every other second. Mukuro presses against him, pushes into him, and Kakashi is leaning away from the wall, has barely enough sense to squeeze his elbow down against the side of the trident and push it aside, away from his chest

[tridented]

[ Nothing, he thinks, is probably going right, not the way Kakashi would have wanted it, not how Mukuro would have imagined it at from very start of this whole debacle, (or maybe he did, but that would be telling) that this is how it rolls out, in a painfully sharp clarity. And right now, he’s almost (is) enjoying himself, because it’s funny, how Kakashi keeps on touching even though he can feel the revulsion, the- the whatever, radiating off him and

[disillude]

[ Everything can be qualified as very easy when you're Mukuro, when you're capable of the things that he's capable of, and Kakashi thinks that, his brain stops for a second at those words like he's actually considering it, but it's still hard to really think, why isn't he thinking, he just really wants to --

( Do a lot of things. It always comes back to this, circles right back around, and Kakashi is selfish, or maybe he's not selfish enough, maybe he needs to be a little more selfish because that'll keep him alive. He wants to what, finish what you fucking start, Kakashi, come on

[tridented]

[ Maybe he wants this, maybe he wants that, but whatever, right? The wall meets him, and right now, with his neck exposed and pants halfway off and this whole motherfucking mess around them, you'd think Mukuro's at his most vulnerable, but he's not acting it at all. There's a lazy sort of assuredness in his posture, one that proclaims that everything up until now has been a careful orchestra of time and patience.

(If there's anything Mukuro's always been especially good at, it's being selfish. Take, take, take and no givebacks no returns, because he wants it all for himself and no one else.)

There must not be enough oxygen in the room anymore or maybe Mukuro's just not breathing like he should, but the flames die, asphyxiated by his own will and nothing more, and it really is very easy to do anything, anything at all, like reading the tense, strained silhouette (the room dim once more) Kakashi makes, and interpret it for what it is. The little hidden signs that his words are digging in and seeping through the cracks and below into