Till Death We Part: Kuno x Homura

6

"So dog walking, huh?" Chijimatsu says staring at the papered ceiling.

"Yea, family business," Homura said curtly. Homura had little intention of actually conversing with him, after all, he has the potential to be dangerous. Makiko, Asano, and Chijimatsu had put all their faith in him for help, yet just so many things could go wrong.

"Thanks for agreeing to come with me," Chijimatsu said, flashing a grin. "It's kinda scary to be going alone."

Homura sighed and looked at the doors surrounding them.

Because they were stationed in the hotel as their current living space, the majority of it was vacant making the whole ordeal quite unnerving.

As their footsteps echoed in the empty halls, Homura heard a distant, muffled cry.

He looked over to Chijimatsu who was whistling, seemingly unaware.

Chijimatsu stopped at a door and turned to Homura as he opened it.

"Stay safe, alright?" he said playfully punching Homura's shoulder.

Chijimatsu disappeared into the room and closed the door behind him.

Homura simply turned towards the rest of the rooms and surveyed his surroundings.

There it was again.

Muffled crying.

Homura quickly but quietly made his way to room 307, following the source of this obscure noise. 

This was Kuno's room.

Homura stared at the peephole, hard raised to knock, but the tendons and joints in his arm refused to move.

All he could do was stare at the glossed oak door, and listen to the weeping only a few feet away.

This was pathetic. He was pathetic.

Homura's breathing got faster, and louder.

For what?

All this for what?

You are making a fool of yourself.

But for what?

It's not like anyone is going to listen.

Kuno's crying stopped, and silence strikes Homura's ears.

Instead, Homura hears a raspy voice, still rough from sobbing.

"Why?" he says.

"Why am I not good enough for anyone?"

A pause in his pleads.

"Why does everyone keep leaving me?"

Homura leans on the door. He wants to be helpful. He wants to be useful. But when it really comes down to it, he freezes. 

His arms won't move, shivering with cowardice.

Homura slumps on the door, struggling to breathe.

Why do I have no control?

What is going on?

Homura hears footsteps behind him and pauses his breathing.

"It's been a bit, hasn't it, Homura?" the person says in an ambiguous voice.

Homura can't respond before a kitchen knife is plunged into his neck and slashed.

────── {⌘} ──────

Kuno hears a familiar scream ring out through the hotel rooms.

Did someone die?

Kuno races out of his room, dropping his project, wax crayons, and some scrap paper.

It sounded like Homura.

He sees several other players dotting the hallway, also eager to find the source of the scream.

Kuno sees Chijimatsu and Okano, both covered in pink glitter, Majibritt, in a sleeping gown, and Makiko, looking like she didn't get a wink of sleep the night previous.

Kuno booked it down the hallway.

He opened the poet's door in one fluid motion, gasping for air, terrified of what the scene may hold.

The two made eye contact, a visibly shaken Homura, and an extremely worried Kuno.

The both of them breathed deeply in an effort to calm their nerves.

"What the actual fuck."

A/N: I didn't actually proof-read this sooo yeah