Work Text:
Crimson red is a beautiful color. It’s what paints the sun and its surrounding skies into a perfect blend between the orange and the blue. It’s what dyes the blood that runs through the veins of all human beings, the very lifeline of life itself.
Kinari extends a hand out to the distantly setting blazing sun. Whoever’s voice it was, whether it was his own or not—was right in the matter. Sunsets symbolize love, and the end of a human life. At least, this way of thinking was applicable in the predicament he found himself in.
Crimson red is truly a beautiful color. It is the very same hue that stained his hands in its liquid form.
The hurt and the agony brought by a gunshot wound seemed to dull any and all of his remaining five senses. His breathing came to some form of stasis, evening out with each gradually shallower breath. The young man gazes at the orange-tinted skies. As the cirrostratus clouds above pass by in miniscule strides, he cannot help but think what went wrong—or how was he even thrust into such a situation.
It won’t be long before the heavens above would be drowned into the pitch black night sky. Amongst its glittering stars, Kinari would remain here.
Perhaps he lamented the fact that he won’t be able to find that person anymore once he’s joined everyone else—including that guy who has passed before him. He could continue his search as a ghost, but where is the satisfaction in finding out that your very inspiration is alive and you’re not lying? There’s no point in doing so. (Besides it’s not as if he believed in the supernatural. Although the recently hired meatbun stall owner would like to prove him otherwise.)
Perhaps he mourned the fact that if he passes, he won’t be able to say the things he wanted to that person. All of the ‘Why?’s, ‘I miss you’s, ‘I want to see you again’s, he’d like to spill out—all for naught. For what purpose is there in uttering these words if he would never be able to hear the other person’s response?
Kinari’s greedy. He knows this all too well. He wants to see him , to meet him , to speak with him again. He longs for the day he’d once again intertwine their hands together, enveloping his naturally cold ones in his warmth. He’d listen to him say “Hey, Kina, I won’t go anywhere anymore.” Something of the sort, and it was a selfish wish—one that he cannot bring himself to let go of.
So, with the tears blurring his vision, he begins to accept the fate served on a platter for him. ‘Dad’s going to be in so much grief,’ he notes. ‘I may as well kill a part of him and take it with me to the grave tonight.’
He could see something akin to a dark tunnel—much like the one in Ward 6, and at the very corner of his eyes—
—White light engulfed his sight completely.
Memories of old, particularly ones he had replayed and reviewed within his head over and over had begun to resurface.
Is this what they call, ‘one’s life flashing before the end of their lives’?
He can see it clearly. No, he could see him clearly. The boy from his memories—his voice and his face—became oh so crystal clear to him.
‘It’s you.’
‘All this time, it was you.’
‘I’ve finally remembered you, Tao.’
The quiet sounds of footsteps snap Kinari out of the melancholic trance. Although he appeared unsightly as it stood, he cannot help but laugh at what fate had in store. He lets out a sigh, and shifts his gaze, unfazed by the presence of the person who came to his rescue. Even the bleeding abdomen of his had numbed as his own consciousness fizzled out bit by bit.
Brown hair as deep as the earth, eyes that used to glitter like gold—and a horrified expression plastered on his usually calmly put together face.
“——!”
He couldn’t even hear his voice anymore. Ah, it’s over.
Kinari wonders, what sort of face was he himself making when he came just in the nick of time? He hoped he was smiling. Maybe he was, but he can’t be sure of that now.
The last thing reflected in mirror-esque eyes were that person’s pleas for him to keep living.
Somewhere.
Cold breeze in the dead of midnight sneaks itself into the base. Although underground, he can’t help but notice their eyes on him. He cast away his gaze and focused on the person sleeping in his bed. He somewhat managed to remove the bullet that lodged itself into Kinari’s flesh, while also doing first aid procedures. Whatever that entailed. Bandages now wrap itself around his otherwise frail body, a gauze rightfully atop where the wound is. Blood lightly seeps through its cloth, staining it a deep red.
He begins to think about what he’s going to say—and what it could’ve been was promptly thrown out of the window as the moment he looks away for a second—there he was, partly awake.
Tao clicks his tongue, “Go back and rest.”
“No way. I finally get to take a look at who saved my life and you’re telling me to close my eyes? You’re so mean.”
“No, I mean– I— *sigh* …Do what you want. You need a stern talking to anyway.”
“Spare the injured some mercy, please, and thank you.”
The agent huffs, rolling his eyes as he sits by the bedside. “Go get your wounds properly fixed at the hospital. I’ll drive if I need to.”
“Mhm.”
“Don’t do something that reckless ever again.”
“Yeah.”
“Seriously, do you know how worried I was when you weren’t answering your phone?! For the love of—! You could’ve…”
“I know.”
Tao grits his teeth. “So say something already.”
Kinari looks away from him. “...Sorry.” A moment of silence, whilst the singer fidgets with his fingers, he turns his head completely. “It was probably some enemy organization my old man’s in hot water with.”
“...I knew that.”
“Mm. Right, you took out the sniper, didn’t you, Tao?”
‘Ah,’ Kinari huffs. ‘I said that out loud.’
“No more point in hiding that part of you. I’m the president, I know mostly everything there is to know about you guys.” Quickly thinking of a way to save this blunder, he ends up using a card he didn’t know he had. “I just didn’t say anything ‘cuz that’s an invasion of privacy.”
He knows Tao can’t argue with that. It’s a sound argument no matter how you look at it. Knowing the Azekawas’ connections, he could easily just ask and he shall receive.
“R-Right…” Internally, he sucks in a breath of relief. ‘He hasn’t remembered who I was, that’s good.’
After another bout of silence, to the point where the night birds’ chirping can be heard, Kinari speaks up again.
“Thanks. For saving me. I owe you.”
“Not really. It’s the least I can do.”
“The least , you say? So there’s more ?” He teases with a grin.
“What are you, a kid?” The other teases back. Most of the previous tension has been replaced with a lighter one. For some reason, Kinari finds it a lot easier to breathe. Although it had come to a form of a standstill, a sense of unease remains in the air. Both simply surmised that it must have been born from the odd circumstance they were in.
“Maybe. Think of it as payback for all the times you asked me to sing for you.”
“Seriously? Don’t tell me you were keeping track…” Tao winces.
“Oh, I was . More like Kinyari was, buuuut, he’s charging at home, so.” Kinari shrugs, then gestures for Tao to put out his palm. To which he obliges, despite the confused look he had on. He takes his hand in his own, very slightly intertwining their fingers and undoing them all the same.
As confused as he was, Tao asks, “What’s gotten into you, Kinari?”
He lets a soft hum escape, “...It’s nothing.”
To which the songbird shakes his head. In spite of his trembling hands, he continued to take hold of the warmth he thought he had lost a long time ago. He doesn’t want to let go.
(But he’ll inevitably have to. That’s just the way it is.)
Still, Kinari won’t say anything. Not a sound nor a word. You’d have to wait for hell to freeze over—for his bones to turn into dust, and for the day this world ends for him to speak. Hell, he’d even take it to his grave if he needs to.
Tao won’t know that he knows. He can’t, god forbid they take him away again. Even if they did, who’s to say he wouldn’t fight for that right to remain by his side? He’d have to fight whatever god ruled it so, to overthrow the heavens that willed it so, just as he defied his own fated death.
To keep that person by his side, he’ll have to feign ignorance to the glaring truth right in front of his glass-like eyes.