𝐝͟𝐞͟𝐚͟𝐭͟𝐡 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝑖𝑚

body reacts without his volition, hands stopped halfway in their effort to reach out and collect belongings, to give a hand. why, then, does his heart feel like it's cracking along the same lines? why, then, did he even wear this costume?

clinic. hyeonju. memory erasure. the altercation with kaori. another step taken back, expression going dreadfully pale. surely a mistake. definitely a mistake. and if not, well ... “ i–––– shouldn't ... no, i––– don't think i'm the one. ”

“ if you're demanding answers from me like a mad––man, i deserve to know, too. ” heart clenches, stomach dips, like it knows something the mind does not. shakes it off, expression ices over. “ why are you acting like we're exes? ”

it’s his turn to flinch, instinctively curling digits into palms and digging nails into the skin as part of long—refined habit. can’t tell if it’s the alcohol, or something else, that leaves him stumbling.

ouch. take that as a rejection. a respective step back, hands slightly raised––– the memories of said altercation flooding back, unlike anything else, “ sorry. ”

lingering stare, cranium tilting slightly. memory clears, only slight–––– only partly. he leans in, towards ear, a result of the music blaring, “ oh. you were at the rink the other day... right? ”

gaze drapes down–––– or up, rather. sue him–––– before it lands on slightly–––familiar––face. adjusts the cuff of his poorly––strewn batman outfit. awkward. “ hey, uh ... have you seen a guy around here? this tall? fluffy brown hair? ”