Re: Zero: A Hell of His Own Making

The crime of being Subaru Natsuki

Those locks of blue hair.

His eyes, sore with sheer stress, locked themselves on that figure.

Those soft, delicate features.

The young man slowly began walking, or rather, dragging himself towards her.

That peaceful, silent expression, as if she was merely relaxing in blissful slumber.

The knight's arms, itching and burning with that devilish urge to tear and rend their own flesh, stretched out towards one of her hands.

Now more than ever, he wished he could see those bright, blue eyes alongside that warm smile which, in his own words, made his heart flutter.

As soon as his fingers laid upon hers, a sigh of deep relief departed from his lungs, causing him to slowly, slightly rise back up from the pit of metaphorical mud he had been sinking in since his first waking moments of this day.

His hands, tired, twitching and trembling, clutched around the lithe, motionless hand of the girl to whom he had promised a piece of his heart.

The very same hand that, all the way back to that moment of utter, all-encompassing despair, had pulled him away from falling into that very same pit.

And now, he was holding onto that hand as if it were an anchor, a ledge he grabbed onto to desperately prevent himself from plummeting downwards any further than he already had.

Mustering up what little strength he had left, Subaru leaned closer to her, his voice now little more than a stuttering whisper.

"...today was... rough, to say the least..."

Deep within the recesses of his psyche, the boy was begging to hear something, anything, from that sweet, caring voice.

But no sound left her lips.

All he received for his efforts was unceremonious silence.

On one hand, silence was something he felt in need of, the calm and quiet of the room heavily contrasted the chaos and commotion from just a few moments before.

But on the other, the lack of any response only further accentuated one of the many feelings weighing down on his heart's shoulders.

A heart that kept on aching.

A soul with cracks and bruises all over its surface.

A mind tearing at the seams.

And a body ensnared in the throes of exhaustion.

Each of these components of his being were, for lack of a better word, lamenting the sorry, ruinous state that they were in.

It felt as if each of them held a shape all its own, and stood in a circle around him.

Staring at him.

Judging him.

Blaming him.

"...you know, I've been going on and on like this for... a while... but..."

Those words were forced out of his mouth, perhaps in an attempt to stifle and delay the encroaching, ruminating thoughts by focusing on speaking to his silent interlocutor.

"...but it's been a bit difficult as of late, and I really don't get why... nothing noteworthy happened since we moved to the new mansion..."

As he spoke, his eyes slowly turned towards his own arms.

"...then again, I'd like to say I've been managing it pretty well, until today... well..."

Something within those words caused his resolve to stumble.