[he should never have hoped. it did him no good through all seven hundred odd years of his miserable half-life, but the withered, beating part of his heart that went, if not him, maybe she could, and what did he get? nothing. just the confirmation of the endless expanse of infinity yawning ahead of him. fuck.
while he was busy trying his best to stop thinking - in kafka's empty bathtub, this time (because she was good at leaving him alone) - silver wolf strolled in (because she was not) and dropped his phone into his lap.
an unknown number. blade could count the number of people who had his contact on one hand, and he'd given none of them his contact number willingly. the trailblazer would always look for kafka, or silver wolf. jing yuan would never be so direct. never had such wanting. which left:]
No.
[aeons, the way every single fibre of his being seized up and yearned.]
no subject
while he was busy trying his best to stop thinking - in kafka's empty bathtub, this time (because she was good at leaving him alone) - silver wolf strolled in (because she was not) and dropped his phone into his lap.
an unknown number. blade could count the number of people who had his contact on one hand, and he'd given none of them his contact number willingly. the trailblazer would always look for kafka, or silver wolf. jing yuan would never be so direct. never had such wanting. which left:]
[aeons, the way every single fibre of his being seized up and yearned.]