𝗘𝗿𝘀𝗮𝘁𝘇 𝗟𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗻 | 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒

VII. Empathy

Eto Yasushi's PIV

The sweat that covered his body had been no joke. His shirt had become pellucid, his hair sticking to his forehead. There hadn't been any sign of a physical swedge; for all that had happened had been a psychological one. The nightmares he faced had been an echo of the verity he did not wish to perceive. Yet again. But he'd been unaware of it.

His eyes snapped open, his chest heaving as he took in drudging gulps of air. The nightmare probably went in visual puns and communicating in metaphors as the creative dreaming brain did, and seeking answers in return. It is just a form of internal communication, isn't it?

"Ugh," Yutaka struggled, his hands flying up to his head.

His eyes had been painted glossy with a sheen of the tears that had emanated from his eyes, his nose turning a deep shade of crimson as the drops trickled down one by one. He sniffed as his fingers pulled at his locks, his eyes delineating the shades of anguish.

"Yoon... You don't look oka-," I attempted, as I watched the white fog close in upon him, the wisps providing him a sense of commiseration.

His irascible eyes were his pain untold, and I wish he would tell it, admit it blatantly; I do. But that pain had morphed into fire-seeds of anger that he could gulp down no longer.

"Just leave me alone!" His voice had raised a few tones higher, his eyes trembling as he tried to reel himself away from the immaculate blinds that had evinced his sight futile. "I told you to leave me alone!"

His hostility had not been out of the blue. The nightmare he had must've racked his mind, fragmenting his beliefs to mere conceptions that he could choose to believe. Or not. And I knew that, for I had been observing people for more than what could be considered my lifetime.

My voice dropped, as I said, "Yutaka. Let me help you."

"I don't want your help. What makes you think I'm in the dire need of it?" His voice pierced through my ears. "I don't need you," he started again, his voice breaking into fragments as he tried to gather himself up. "So, please. Pleas-"

"It's okay." The warmth, that my hands could provide, wrapped in upon him, coaxing the gentle tears that would trickle down his cheeks. The cheeks that had been blemished by shade of red. "I'll be here for you. You can cry, vent, shout, scream. Doesn't matter. Let it all out, before it starts eating you up from the inside."

And so he did. His breath had become choppy, his chest heaving as he took in exigent breaths through his blocked nose. Hot tears seemed so familiar on his face, like they'd carved their own berm to glide along. They streamed down, making a pattern like the dappled sun had made on him, before. Graceful, yet brimming with desolation, and misery.

"What-What had ha-happened?" he stuttered- more to himself than to me- before another tear left his eye.

"Put yourself in their shoes for once. Then, you'll know."