heartache | t. muichiro

salvage

「

"when she got home that night, it felt as if a part of her had died. staring at the playful photo of the two of them pinned on her wall, she yanked it out and tore it into countless pieces."

」

"You really killed him."

Your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes trailed down to his gloves. He extended and stretched his fingers as he let the knife fall onto your dead lover's lap.

"You..." A lump seemed to form in your throat, one which you quickly swallowed. "You planned for this. You knew that you were gonna have to murder him."

Muichiro moved to look down at you. The adrenaline seemed to be replaced with realization by now, turquoise eyes and pale hands trembling as he passed you a nearly desperate look. "Remember that promise we made... awhile ago?" He stuttered.

"Which one?"

"The one where you were..." His bottom lip quivered. "... raving about purity?"

"Purity's a myth, isn't it?"

"What do you mean, Y/N?"

"Think about it. People use purity as an excuse to prey on children and the untouched. They want to defile people."

"... I'll never let anyone do that to you, Y/N. I promise."

"... I remember." You answered. "Is that seriously why you did this? Because of a promise your fourteen year old self made?"

Muichiro remained silent, balling his hands into a fists in what seemed to be a desperate attempt at making the tremors stop. This continued for a moment before he parted his lips and beginning to speak. "Not just that. I don't know how to put this to words. Ever since that... occasion... I've felt this nearly unquenchable anger within me. Every bruise, every scar, I've suffered for two years straight and have been plagued with this fury. I feel that the death of this... crow has caused this curse to fade. Even if it was by my own hands."

"Muichiro." You whispered. "You can't just throw away your future like this. You have so much you can do."

"I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty just for a comfier life."

You grumbled. "You realize we might both go to jail for life?! We're both fucked over!"

"Not exactly."

--

You nearly threw up at the sight of that black duffel bag your accomplice had decided to bring, carrying it all the way to the school and to the rooftop. The gloves on your hands felt foreign as well; horrific.

The rooftop was cold, the cool winter air had you breaking out into shivers. You frowned at the loose strands of your hair getting caught on your lip gloss, grabbing your hair tie and using it to pull your hair out of your face into a neat ponytail.

"How the fuck are we gonna make it look like a suicide when there's stab wounds?" You whined, trudging your feet over to the railing.

Muichiro sighed, extracting the body from the bag and lying it onto the floor of the rooftop. "It's a stretch, but if I put his DNA on the knife and stick it in his chest, and then toss him off the roof, it'll be a little more convincing. I paid good effort to stay in the same spot."