[ There's something that crawls up his bones at those struggles, cries of pain; a primal part of him he can't tape down, even now. Please hurt me resonates in the same vein of please love me in that twisted empty thing he calls a heart, and it guides every slice with finesse and purpose.
Just work, in some way, focused and quiet. A form of love to help, in another. What a war he wages, the pink tinting his ears at odds with the act itself.
The grip against his shoulder is not a move to stop, so downwards the blade treks, settling on the tightened muscle of a lower thigh. Yugamu's gaze is locked onto Solomon's face for another moment, only pausing to actually speak in a cooled tone that matches the look in his eyes. ]
Solomon-sensei. Breathe.
[ That's all he gets before metal slides in to the hilt, past the skin, through the muscle. Wake up. ]
[He barely meets that look. But there's enough recognition - an attempt made, of breath in the nose and out the mouth, as quick and shaky as it comes as his eyes drift shut in tense anticipation.
Metal cuts through flesh, and the pain rips through him like a white-hot whip. His entire spine jerks underneath Yugamu, what vocalization that wheezes out caught between gritted teeth as his face starts to grow pale. The adrenaline rushes, and his chest aches, and--
The grip against Yugamu's shoulders digs, and then weakens, loose fists sliding down his arms detatched.
Breathing. Just breathe.
The act hurts visibly, now that he's purposeful with it. But he tries to force it back under control, the pain vibrant on his features through his attempts at concentration. Waves pass and his face screws tight.
When he finally opens his mouth, it feels like cotton. Dry and sticky and trapped in his throat.]
Enough...
T...that's enough...
[He hopes. He prays. Just give him a moment to let the adrenaline calm...]
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no subject
Just work, in some way, focused and quiet. A form of love to help, in another. What a war he wages, the pink tinting his ears at odds with the act itself.
The grip against his shoulder is not a move to stop, so downwards the blade treks, settling on the tightened muscle of a lower thigh. Yugamu's gaze is locked onto Solomon's face for another moment, only pausing to actually speak in a cooled tone that matches the look in his eyes. ]
Solomon-sensei. Breathe.
[ That's all he gets before metal slides in to the hilt, past the skin, through the muscle. Wake up. ]
no subject
Metal cuts through flesh, and the pain rips through him like a white-hot whip. His entire spine jerks underneath Yugamu, what vocalization that wheezes out caught between gritted teeth as his face starts to grow pale. The adrenaline rushes, and his chest aches, and--
The grip against Yugamu's shoulders digs, and then weakens, loose fists sliding down his arms detatched.
Breathing. Just breathe.
The act hurts visibly, now that he's purposeful with it. But he tries to force it back under control, the pain vibrant on his features through his attempts at concentration. Waves pass and his face screws tight.
When he finally opens his mouth, it feels like cotton. Dry and sticky and trapped in his throat.]
Enough...
T...that's enough...
[He hopes. He prays. Just give him a moment to let the adrenaline calm...]