#tumblr mobile keeps messing up the paragraphs and this is the third time i'm editing it i'm getting real tired of your shit bc low key

[barschter000]

@andy-deer‘s survivor AU makes my head go brrrrrrrrrrr

Also Byakuya is the blackened in this one instead of Toko because...no❤️

Kiyotaka believed that his last words would have meaning and bear some sort of weight that would stop people in their tracks to take a second to think about them, maybe even to remember him, that'd be nice. So naturally, he assumed, his last thoughts should have some impact as well, right?

Kiyotaka's last thought was fear in its purest essence. In such a high concentration that it bit and burned around his wound. His head pounded in the rhythm of his heart, a clump of heat and thuds that he had to balance on his shoulders while his bones were, one by one, in the span of seconds, replaced with toothpicks.

Beat, bite, burn, Taka ran. Blood was trickling down his neck and forehead, warm and slow, heavier than a fluid should be. It ran into his eye and he had no strength to wipe it away, his blurred vision was reduced to only left. One hand on the walls, tracing the tiles, wallpapers, doorframes, rounding the corners, taking the stairs.

Through the pounding, the dull bass against his temples, he tried to focus, tried to see. His sight was proof that he was conscious. Wallpaper, he narrated. A quick, sharp word thrown into the blunt bumps like a hook in a weaving ocean, hoping to catch something, reach someone in the chaos.

Front of me, he continued and the thuds accelerated. Boots, step, step, drip, pink, on the floor, footmarks, swirling, blurring, here, up, raise, shake, go, stairs, downstairs, down, dorms, safety, down to the dorms, someone, help, stairs left, only the stairs left, help, in the dorms, Mondo.

What had been a quiet stream in the depths of the ocean now became the splashing, gurgling and screaming of a drowning man, flailing his arms, pushing himself up on unruly waves, calling out to the silhouette of a ship. Mondo, Mondo, Mondo.

In fear in its purest essence, Kiyotaka thought of Mondo and he thought of him as safety. Which was contradictory.

Just a few days ago, Mondo had stood in a trial, naming himself a murderer. It wasn't far from the truth. He was the cause for death that would have never taken place otherwise. First, his brother, then Chihiro. If he had been a bit more mindful, a bit less reckless, a bit more fearless, maybe Daiya wouldn't have had to kick his bike and take the truck for him. If he had been a tad stronger to let control take over him or a tad stronger to swallow it harder, maybe he would have not picked up that dumbbell. Maybe Chihiro would have not been lying at his feet, bleeding from the head. Maybe if blood and its meaning hadn't scared him so much, he would have noticed that his swing with the dumbbell landed in the air and Chihiro's wound was the result of losing consciousness, as he carried their body to the other locker room.

Kiyotaka had forgotten who Mondo really was or rather, he had never known. Kiyotaka had seen him as a black, then as a white, two clear shades, clearly different. Mondo, the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader as his foe, had been explicitly guilty and as his friend, was overwhelmingly innocent. The Mondo that presented himself in the trial, however, was gray of a shade that already was too dark for ink and too bright for chalk. Kiyotaka couldn't see through him. A hazy puddle of gray; Kiyotaka understood that it was deep but couldn't see a bottom.

Mondo wasn't a murderer. He wasn't the one being executed, that was Byakuya and his plan to confuse the students, hang up Chihiro and bring a killer into the game; the trap of his that shut on himself. Mondo wasn't a murderer per se but he was half a murderer, an accomplice of some sorts. And oddly, greyly, enough, he was Kiyotaka's friend.

Kiyotaka wanted him to promise that he kept it that way, that Mondo and Death split up their paths, that he stayed gray and deep. In this world, where white and black were indivisible, he needed someone by his side to learn.

Mondo promised. Not the usual promise on his honor or on his masculinity, it was a simple promise on silently everything. Even before wrapping his arms around him, Kiyotaka felt safe in his words.

Kiyotaka couldn't hear the doorbell ringing, couldn't detect his finger on it, couldn't recall the order to press it but he hoped that he made an impact on this fragment of the world. Begging for Mondo, for safety, he repeatedly punched the doorbell. His gaze had grown foggy and his field of vision was a swimming dark mass, tinted red from the ominous lighting in the hallway, and from the blood. There was no response, no reassurance from his legs that he was still standing, and his hand started gliding down the doorframe.

A ringing interrupted Mondo's dreamless sleep. The parts where he was trapped in a dark room, being watched by faceless shadows and where he woke up, trapped in a dark room, then realized he was stuck in another, he didn't count as dreams; they were the usual occurences.

Taka, was his first thought. He had gone to his room that night, just to stand there, stare at his nameplate and think of all other things to pay no attention to the reason for his presence there: just company, just for the night. In the end, he called himself stupid, turned around and left. He didn't knock or press the doorbell. Right?

Another ring. And another. Mondo groaned and rubbed his hand over his face. Ringing once again. Yeah, that wasn't Taka. "Who the fuck–?" And once more. He lifted himself out of bed. "I swear, if no one has lost a limb, I'm gonna–" he mumbled to himself, muffling his last words because his brain hadn't completed the sentence yet. His naked feet scuffled on the carpeted floor as he walked over to his door. "Alright." He threw his door open, "What the fu–"

It had never happened before to his awareness: Mondo choked on his words, a second of suffocation.

This was Taka. And he was bleeding. Blood was running down his face. Starting from his hair and dribbling down on his uniform jacket, leaving stains. "Kyoudai?" Taka spoke like his voice was a liquid, spilling out of his mouth. He rung the doorbell one more time. "Kyoudai, I need–" His words drowned away. "Please, I need help."

This was Daiya all over again, Chihiro all over again, dying all over again. Mondo was on the street, in the locker room, at a grave. Honking, lights and screams, metal clanging, the ground vibrating, the weight of a body in his arms.

Mondo came back to life when something hit his legs. Kiyotaka had fallen unconscious and was bleeding on his feet. A hissed curse cut his lips. He bent down, kneeling right into the red pool, the wet and warmth creeping through the fabric of his pants, put an arm around Taka's waist and Taka's arm around his own neck. Taka was heavier than Chihiro, lighter than Daiya, his boots dangled and scraped over the floor, through the pool, and his head was hanging from his frame as if only skin connected them. Red dripped from his hair.

"Fuck." His voice was trembling, light as air but coarse on his vocal cords. Mondo felt his chest rising and falling, his heavy breathing grinding down his ribcage and his lungs. Snot clogged his nose, a sign of tears, and his mouth dried out from breath and salt. He listened to his echo travel down the hallways and a second longer, longing for an answer but there was none. "Fuck!" It rung shrill and shaking.

Mondo stumbled over to the other side of the hallway, dragging weight, dragging a body. His fist battered down next to the first door, missed the doorbell, missed it twice but then its noise stung in his ears. He staggered on, tears were washing over his cheeks, he was leaving drops and bloody footprints.The next door, the third and the fourth. He didn't check the nameplates, didn't ring twice, there was no time and no answers. Kiyotaka was slipping out of his grasp, Mondo gripped his waist and arm anew. He couldn't see a wound, couldn't check how deep it was, only new waves of blood welling from inbetween his hair.

"What happened?" Mondo didn't hear it but felt a gasp grazing his throat. He whirled around and Taka slid again, sinking lower.

Kyoko's arms that were crossed at her chest untangled, revealing her gloves. Her face, her voice kept stern and unmoved. "I'll get Sakura. You stay here." Her steps were soundless, cushioned by her socks and her demeanor. She faced forward as she passed Mondo.

"Did something happen?" Makoto stuck his head out of his door. He choked on his yawn. Makoto ran over, inspected the body, hovering his hands over it. He cocked his head, twisted his mouth. He looked up to Mondo and their eyes didn't meet.

Makoto jumped at the scream next to him. Aoi slapped her hands to her mouth, her gaze stuck to the sight.

The only thing that Mondo perceived was the fabric at his palm, the flesh beneath it and the wrist he was clutching. Kiyotaka still had weight, about his warmth, Mondo was unsure. His purpose right now was to hold him. The rest was numb and unimportant; background static and bleary colors.

Kiyotaka suddenly became lighter, the arm around his shoulder gliding off his back. His nails dug into Taka's uniform without command.

"Mondo, you need to let go." Sakura was standing before him, Hina at her side, Kiyotaka in her arms. Mondo's hand still grabbed on, she had lifted his arm along with Taka. Her words were gentle but not a request.

"I'm not fucking leaving him!" Mondo growled, stepped closer, gripped tighter. He sent glares through tears up to the girl. He had stopped crying and a crust had formed on his face. "That is not what I'm asking of you," she said. "Please let go of his uniform. I need to carry him to the infirmary." Mondo averted his eyes, and removed his hand.

"How long is this gonna fucking take?" Mondo slammed his fist down on the mattress and, angry at the lack of sound and resistance, slammed it down again. He had always hated the sterileness of nurse's offices and hospital rooms; the cold lights, the thin beds, being watched and examined, and timeless waiting. He ground his teeth. His bouncing leg had long escaped his control.

Sakura, who was sitting next to the bed in front of him, looked up. She had taken the care to position herself so that Mondo was able to see Kiyotaka, how he was just lying there on his side, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open, motionless. Sakura was pressing one of her hands against his forehead, the other against the back of his head where layers of gauze stacked and colored red as the minutes passed.

"I cannot hurry this process," she replied. "The bleeding has to stop before we can take any next steps." She turned her head around to Aoi. "Hina, my girl, could you be so kind and hand me another cloth?"

Aoi stood unmoved next to her, a roll of gauze and scissors in her hands, staring down at her friend's work, and the blood. "Hina?" Sakura repeated, knitting her brows. Aoi blinked and awoke. "Yeah, here, sorry." She cut a new piece, her hands were shaking.

Sakura lifted her hand from Kiyotaka's head for just a moment, revealing her red palm, took the gauze, crumpled it up and and added it to the others. Mondo had been counting the layers in the first three minutes but that had quickly faded into the back of his mind.

He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. His lip had started bleeding from his biting and he was tasting iron as he sucked it in.

"I can understand your restlessness." Sakura's expression was calm, a subtle softness had undermined her serious features. It was poking needles into Mondo's surfaced nerves. "However, there is nothing that you can do now other than be patient. I advise you get some rest."

Mondo clenched a fist, bared his teeth. "I said I'm not fucking leaving!" "You may stay here," her tone hardened just a little. "There are enough beds to choose from." Mondo grunted, "Fine."

He stood up and could stop his knees from giving way and betraying him. He ripped at the curtain separating Taka from him and fell back onto the edge of the bed. He regretted closing the curtain. Mondo buried his face in his palms.

He couldn't lose Taka. He couldn't name a reason for it but after the thought of him dying, his brain went blank. He could see himself stand at his bed, stare down at his body. Kiyotaka looked peaceful as if he had gone in his sleep, laying there dressed up for a soldier's coffin. He was laying on his back and in any other condition, it surely must hurt. His head was bandaged and the wound was hidden.

It was a subject to Mondo's wonder that he was the one on Taka's mind in his last minutes. Why didn't he associate help with Sakura or justice with Makoto? Why did he choose him? Kiyotaka was the only person on earth that believed Mondo was a good man. It was silly and dangerous, Mondo had told him, but Kiyotaka insisted. Mondo knew that dying brains formed crazily truthful thoughts but to be on Kiyotaka's mind in his possibly last moments felt like an obscenity. The thought of Mondo had filled up his head and pushed thoughts about family, future and unfinished tasks aside. Mondo was where Kiyotaka had anchored his life.

His stomach turned as he noticed how he clung to that. How he swam towards the boat on the stormy sea, hope and the lack of it twisting into an ugly clump in his windpipe that hindered the air. Mondo felt like spitting at himself, kicking his double to the ground and in the ribs repeatedly, each kick with more anger behind it. His double was desperate, in his eyes weak, holding onto Taka, his heart and the affection stored in it. It was pathetic for being so dependent, so selfish and needy.

Mondo couldn't help it. Kiyotaka cherished his existence, silently accepted his mistakes, knowing there was light that cast the shadows, carefully treated his injuries, stitch by stitch with devotion to his being. That was something Mondo had not been able to achieve in his whole lifetime. He thought of Kiyotaka's death and his mind went blank.

"Um, hey?" Aoi sounded quiet behind the curtain. Mondo lifted his head. How long had he been sitting like this? His spine ached. "The bleeding stopped." Mondo allowed himself to breathe. "He's asleep now." Hina paused. "We'd stay if you want to go back to your dorm, that's okay." "If you decide to stay, you'll find us in my room if anything occurs." Sakura sounded so calm again, it was soothing now.

Mondo swallowed spit to conquer the dryness of his throat. "I'll stay." "Alright," Sakura replied. He slid off the bed, his legs stood firm. Flakes of dried blood rubbed off the soles of his bare feet as he tore the curtain aside and stepped forward. The girls halted in the doorframe and turned to him. "Thanks," he said, the eyecontact didn't last long.

Sakura nodded a goodbye, turned off the lights and closed the door. The room was dim with the light hanging right over Taka's bed.

Mondo knelt down next to him. The light gave Kiyotaka's pale skin a sickish yellow tone. The blanket covering his body rose and fell, Mondo saw the fabric of his uniform stretching and releasing, he heard the quiet in- and exhales. Kiyotaka was breathing.

Mondo's finger wound around his wrist. He was unsure whether the warmth was an illusion. He searched for a pulse, tapping about with his index and middle finger, then found one. Feeble beats obscured by skin and flesh.

Kiyotaka's fingers jerked. "Kyou..." He whispered like he'd lost his voice.

They locked eyes. How weak he looked. How soft, how frail, how strong he was for making it.

"Kyoudai." Mondo longed to answer but all words, all language were not to his avail. Kiyotaka blinked and squinted. "Bright," he whined. Talking was an effort, Mondo could tell by his wheezing. He followed his bidding wordlessly.

"I'm... so glad," Taka spoke. Mondo had not let go of his wrist. "I have so much... to live for." Mondo grabbed him tighter, the wish to hold him slowly becoming too much to bear. "I have this world to better." Taka's arm moved in his grasp, Mondo opened the plier of his fingers and Kiyotaka's hand slid into his. Kiyotaka intertwined their fingers clumsily. The weight on Mondo's palm was strange but he completed the gesture. "And you," Taka said. "I have you."

He let out another whimper and shut his eyes again. "My head," he muttered. The muffled sound of belching escaped his closed mouth. "Lemme get Sakura," Mondo decided. His voice sounded foreign to him, too steady. "You, go back to sleep." He stood up but a faint squeeze at his fingers had him stop. "Don't worry." In the dark, Mondo's smile was invisible. "I'll be here when you wake up."