ODE TO THE MURDERED, bonten

37

PART THIRTY-SEVEN !
weighing down the hammer.

BEYOND THE HIGH RINGING AND PAIN was a familiar, tangible music that slowly wraps around your unconscious form. your body burned until you floated through a memory, back in a period before the complications and misery.

"you're up." Marise's voice is deep liquid, barely tilted yet his eyes stay steady on you. you flinch slightly, surprised he manages to catch you poking through his open door at the dead of night.

"did i wake you?"

he sits up on his bed, rolling his shoulders and casting you a gentle smile. "no, i just got up. but you on the other hand," he leans into his palm. "you're way past your bedtime, you know. if uncle knew you were up he'd scold you."

his eyes soften when he sees your conflicted shifting. "y/n." he sits up straighter, more serious. "did something happen?"

"no, uh." you swallow. "i just had a nightmare."

silence hangs in the air, until you see Marise patting the spot beside him. you waddled over to him, and he sighs. "wanna talk about it?"

you turn your gaze at his window, watching the night light swim over and clash with Marise's odd choice of music spewing from the old radio.

"what did you dream about?"

you answered with a split second of hesitancy. "you dying."

and his eyes flash, then warms like the summer sun. his hand on your hair is like a comforting fabric, wrapping around you so gently. Marise leans close and pulls you to his chest and you stay quiet and listen, listen to his pattering pink heart thump, thump, thump on his chest as he comforts you.

"you'll not lose me," he says.

"yeah." you murmur on the threads of his shirt, closing your eyes and remembering the patchouli scent of his hoodie.

when you slowly awoke from the dream, the scent shifts into expensive Tobacco Vanille, you furrow your brows, turning your hazy and drunk gaze to look up at Kokonoi.

he was hovering over you, his head resting heavily on your shoulder, and it took you a moment to realize the blood pouring out of his snowy white hair, mixing with his expensive cologne.

something's wrong, something's terribly wrong.

"Koko." you place your hand on his shoulder—he's strangely cold and heavier than usual. 

"Kokonoi." you urge, ignoring your body blooming with equal bruises and cuts, your ears and head a pounding hammer in your bones. but you didn't care, you only cared about bringing that familiar warmth back—feeling that familiar embrace again.

"get up, Koko." your heart seizes, fear and panic apparent in your chest, pounding away.

"shit."

"y/n?—y/n!" a rugged voice cuts through your dizziness.

"y/n hey, hey." Ran reaches out to you, placing his ring-clad fingers on your cheek, they're oddly cold despite the heating temperature of the crashed vehicle.