23.04.

96 10 0
                                    

AND

you asked him if he believed in god.

IF A|

friendship; romance; action;
poetry;
murder; crime; thriller; mystery;
time-travel; superpower; fantasy;
fanfiction;||

DOUBLE-DECKE||

the beggers clutched at their bellies from the hunger of the orphans and his ribs colored the fresh flesh flowing above the tint of a collapsing sunset, leaking into your affectionate fingers;
he is famished. every time.

you asked him if he believed in god but the gods have a grudge against the boy.

but he called out to every god when his mother did to every human she knew from the days silver did not bear out of her skull, the purple a kiss under the crescent closed eye-sockets like they were her gods, for pennies she had lost to her husband over the promise of winning a gamble and poor friends from the run down high school she used to go to when she was sixteen and her only ex-boyfriend. but there was never an answer.

you asked if he believed in god but this unending hunger had an origin, too.

and when his mother locked herself in the bathroom four steps from the kitchen in the one room apartment set up for sale because a woman in her thirtees had killed herself in the same, he had wailed his throat sore, his knuckles colorful as they thundered on the rusted iron door, and he could see his mother in his head. dead.

you asked him if he believed in god but when he prayed for help, the neighborhood tenants hit him for disturbing their night's sleep over stupid things.

you asked if he believed in god but he had clawed up the legs of your father because he mistook him for the woman he called his mother from the only thing he saw of his mother that your father resembled. legs. two of them.

|R

dedicated to april the twenty third.

BUS | |
| | | | | |

this is a you and me story. the prayers you begged me of every time i termed the desperation on your tongue a tastelessness and the fumbles of the fingers that wailed for love under the folds of my expensive fabric, hesitant from the burns on them from when they had tried to get the lighter to ignite my cigarette the right way in the first go. this is a you and me story, and there is an irony to it; that you did not understand.

CRASHES

where aoi decides to go back in time to love his best friend the way he regretted not doing, knowing he cannot avoid the inevitable - death.

that is, until he realises there could be someone else behind it all in the first place.

INTO US|

you asked me if i believed in god, when every time you speak my name like it is an object you hold with caution, in a cry, or a prayer, or in humiliation, i see an answer ; when every time you lay your eyes on the likes of me the gods pray to you instead; to leave. abandon.

TO DIE

there was a religion to the way you loved.

BY |

contains vulgar language and explicit swearing, mentions of abuse, self-harm, depression, toxic relationships, blood and gore content.

YOUR SIDE |||

you asked me if i believed in god, and i saw you on my way to home every time my bones crumbled under my weight, the skin of your stomach cold under the warm liquid that dried in the refuge of the region beneath my broken fingernails. your weight could be twenty kilograms more than the bruises i did not know to hide, but i lay there, soaking in the strawberry scent that broke into the pink hue of your room, as you plucked calamities from under my chest. religion.

IS|

all rights reserved.
no part of this publication may be sold, distributed, reproduced, or transmitted in any form

or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy,
recording, tapes, or any information storage and retrieval system without
the explicit written permission
from the original publisher.

SUCH A

the cast and plotline wholly belongs to me; this was originally a fanfiction but i decided to modify it to a story completely my own since the idea took away the liberation of the story. the incidents are not necessarily set in japan, i just find japanese names breathtakingly beautiful. this is all a product of my imagination, and thus any resemblance to new characters, names, or incidents is purely a coincidence. any hateful behavior or plagiarism would not be tolerated. any sort of mistake or flaw is expected to be ignored or informed about (won't really appreciate the latter), and the story is not for any abusive or hateful purposes; all the depicted incidents are entirely fictitious.

HEAVENLY

/please/google/the-pronounciations/until-i-upload-them/

WAY TO||

i could come home at three in the morning with blood on my hands and you would lick it like it were from the last packet of your favorite fruit jam from the supermarket that never brought it back to sale after the day we got ourselves twenty nine of the same. you asked me if i believed in god half the way you did in me.

die.

your love is such a burden.

――――――――――――

would there be a day when you start wanting me less?❞

no.❞

―――――――――――

started: 04. August. 2023.
ended: -

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⏰ Last updated: Apr 21 ⏰

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