[ he couldn't even bring himself to type "hibari killed him". it didn't sit right, didn't flow. that wasn't it. no, no— during a heated moment, quickly, perhaps tsuna hadn't thought. nic was a friend, and like every friend, he cared for them like one would care for their own brother, or sister— father or mother. to hear one killed the other just because was unthinkable. people have a habit of doing that, it's in one's nature, to conclude on their own with what they're presented with and that's that. but . . . he wasn't like that. he promised he wouldn't be like that.
one of hibari's downsides were his limits— he had little of it. the teen keeps himself from responding in favor of pulling his knees up, half his face buried between his legs, and thinking, calming his agitation. he was upset. people don't think clearly when they're upset— and he didn't want to be a rash person. he wasn't like that.
he shuts his eyes tight, hand over his head. he hits once. hits twice, frustrated, giving a heaving, shaky sigh. he couldn't do that. even if he had been upset, even if it was unbelievable— he couldn't judge, not without knowing what really happened ( he couldn't bring himself to— the guilt was greater ). and hibari wouldn't just . . . do that the way he was thinking. the way everyone was thinking. the guardian's actions for tsuna over the course of his stay proved it ( and after a a more clearing conversation, things made a bit more sense ).
it doesn't simply wash the guilt away, on the contrary— it's still there. ]
no subject
i do
as much as i can at least
[ he couldn't even bring himself to type "hibari killed him". it didn't sit right, didn't flow. that wasn't it. no, no— during a heated moment, quickly, perhaps tsuna hadn't thought. nic was a friend, and like every friend, he cared for them like one would care for their own brother, or sister— father or mother. to hear one killed the other just because was unthinkable. people have a habit of doing that, it's in one's nature, to conclude on their own with what they're presented with and that's that. but . . . he wasn't like that. he promised he wouldn't be like that.
one of hibari's downsides were his limits— he had little of it. the teen keeps himself from responding in favor of pulling his knees up, half his face buried between his legs, and thinking, calming his agitation. he was upset. people don't think clearly when they're upset— and he didn't want to be a rash person. he wasn't like that.
he shuts his eyes tight, hand over his head. he hits once. hits twice, frustrated, giving a heaving, shaky sigh. he couldn't do that. even if he had been upset, even if it was unbelievable— he couldn't judge, not without knowing what really happened ( he couldn't bring himself to— the guilt was greater ). and hibari wouldn't just . . . do that the way he was thinking. the way everyone was thinking. the guardian's actions for tsuna over the course of his stay proved it ( and after a a more clearing conversation, things made a bit more sense ).
it doesn't simply wash the guilt away, on the contrary— it's still there. ]