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"Hey, why do you live?"
Black hollows stare right at him, the once vibrant purple hues in it gradually fading away, until nothing remains. Black, everything is black.
He's falling, falling, falling,
"You're useless, you know?"
He's trying to run, his feet dragging itself painfully across the rough floor, his hand flying over and around his scarf, securing it from falling, along with whatever he has left. He tightens it around his neck, hoping to tighten something more, something quite not in a literal sense, his nimble fingers tug down the worn out olive green fabric over his head, desperately trying to hold on, to anything, anything—
"No one needs you here, you know?"
He trips; blood oozes from somewhere, he doesn't know where. It hurts, everything's blurry, it's all red. His hands, his jeans, his vision, he's seeing red and oranges, and blacks.
Hollowed black, their depth immaculate.
He feels himself slipping, slipping, slipping, until there's nothing to hold onto,
"It's your turn to die, Sou."
and then he screams.
_____________________________
Sou wakes up with a jolt. The first thing his nightmare induced brain registers is that its dark, he's on his bed and that there's a source of light in his room.
He breathes a sigh of relief before immediately springing up, high on alert. A light? But it's supposed to be the middle of the night. Quickly, he scans his room, being only at ease once he realizes he's not in any danger, the light was coming from the laptop.
Kai's laptop. The one he's not supposed to have.
He shook away those guilt tripping thoughts, perhaps a bit late than usual. After all, Shin Tsukimi never steals. Or lies. Or manipulates people. He isnt a bad person.
Shin Tsukimi isn't a bad person.
(But Sou Hiyori is.)
If anyone asked Sou why he had taken up that name, he'd come up with a blank. He doesn't know, never thought about it. It comes to him with a sinking feeling of realization that perhaps that's because it was the only natural way, and he hates that.
Turning over in a futile attempt to fall asleep, he realizes he's never had dinner tonight. Skipping meals was definitely not something he wasn't accustomed with, but that was the past Shin. Present Shin—oh wait, Shin doesn't exist—anyways, Present Sou (he could never say that name without his immediate puking reflex, he holds it in, you get accustomed to it after being trapped in a death facility, where everyone calls you that) needed to eat, if only for survival.
Heh, survival. As if having meals could help him survive. He already knew, his name alongside the horrifying percentage of a solid 0.0
Not even 1% of survival.
But still, he needed strength if he wanted to beat those attractions and get clear chips. He almost snorted. The way they were all resigned at their fate almost seemed comical. He still couldn't believe Nao's offer to enjoy while they're still here. Enjoy? This isn't a school trip, there are people dying, for god's sake!
For all things Shin was, a victim of stockholm syndrome was not one of it.
_______________________________
The trip to the kitchen was tiring, and without his scarf and jacket, Sou felt more exposed than ever. His only thought was to not run into anyone, small talk really wasn't his forte, especially not at 3:00 in the morning.
Ranger said they weren't allowed to turn lights on after 10, and although his eyes were accustomed to the dark, Sou hasn't visited the kitchen nearly enough to maneuver himself without any hitch. With some difficulty, he managed to reach the refrigerator.
His eyes automatically squinted at the yellow light coming from inside, and he rummaged around for a bit. Shoving a jar of orange juice aside, he found a bowl with a tin foil wrapping. Even under the dim light he could make out his name, written with perfect precision on it.
His face flushed a light pink. He was used to Kanna constantly loitering around him and doting on his health, but this writing was far too refined to be hers.
Taking the bowl out and unwrapping the foil slowly, he discovered it was soup. Cold, and probably not much with flavor, but it was still soup. Sou didn't know if he should be flattered or weirded out by the fact that someone knew him enough to make his favorite food— but then he realized it was probably because of it being such a generic item, and not much to do with his favorite.
"Sou?"
He jumped at the sound of the voice, and whipped around to find none other than the star of his nightmares herself. Sara. Miss 15.5%.
She was standing at the doorway to the kitchen, and she must've noticed the bowl, because she was staring at him intensely. "Well?" She prodded, evidently stepping inside and towards him.
"W-well what?"
He didn't know if it was the strange atmosphere in the kitchen, or if it was how he left the fridge door unlocked, and it was now strangely casting an orange glow on Sara, or if it was because she was suddenly close, too close to him, but Shin felt his throat tighten.
"Aren't you going to eat that?" She nodded at the bowl, and Shin didnt know if he wanted to. Forcing on one of his smiles, he opened his mouth.
"Ahahaha...I don't know if I like being watched when I eat, Miss Sara..."
"Is that why you never eat with us?" Her gaze was sharp, inquisiting, and suddenly it felt like wanting to know about his eating habits wasn't all she wanted to know about.
He sighed, and took a spoonful of soup from the bowl and into his mouth. Cold, just as he suspected. But it was late, and he's starved himself way too long to bitch about the tastes of it. Only after finishing more than half the bowl did it occur to him that Sara was still standing there, watching him.
You're a goddamn idiot.
He felt stupid for letting his guard down. He'd done far too much of the work to fail at this point, letting his biggest threat see him at his lowest, that was really a very fucking careless move and he didn't dare look up at her eyes.
But ofcourse he had to, and when he did, his eyes widened.
She was smiling shyly, and —oh god he hoped he was imagining it—there was a small pink dusting her face. "I see, you liked it, that makes me glad." The implications of it were far too strong to ignore.
She's glad he liked the soup.
Her soup. The one she made. For him.
She made it for him.
Somehow the thought of Sara making anything for him didn't feel as disgusting as he thought it would. It actually felt...nice, and he was terrified of it. Sara was his threat, you don't get warm and have fuzzy feelings from that. This was all too confusing.
"Ah, yeah, it was nice...ahaha..." Awkward. Too awkward.
Hastily, he put his half eaten bowl down, too flustered to stomach more, shot out a quick 'goodnight, Miss Sara' and fled, pretending to not hear her concerned, and almost sad? "Aren't you going to finish that?"
It was all a ploy. Yeah, that's what it was. Her ploy to get his guard down around her and for her to destroy him. That's all it was.
_______________________________
They only had about half a day left of getting clear chips, when she offered a trade.
"Fifty tokens each...sounds good?" She was earnest, way too earnest, standing on her tiptoes, hands clasped in front of her, steadfast and determined.
He felt like a quivering lamb about to be eaten by a hungry wolf.
Masking his worries under a viel of his usual smirk, he had replied,
"Ahahaha...fifty tokens? Isn't that a bit much? Not all of us are lucky enough to be stacked, Miss Sara..." He'd backed away, she'd followed him.
"Sou."
And then, he looks at her. Really, really looks at her. "Please." Her voice cracks and he couldn't figure out if he heard the unsaid—trust me, please— in her voice. Something in her eyes said she knew much more than she was letting on,
(I'll save you, so please, please please—)
______________________________
She couldn't.
Ofcourse she couldn't, his fate was set from the moment he'd stepped foot into the facility—no, from the moment his AI was created. His sickening percentage of a solid zero.
Coughing, he raises his arm, weakly, to the keyboard in front. The least he could offer her was this last gift, as thanks, for everything..
("I turn 18 in, um, a few weeks..." She had said, fiddling with her thumbs in such a manner he couldn't believe it was actually her. He'd barely nodded, too busy saving his head from bats and fallen debris, trying to hold onto his weight of the cart; this was their last attraction, they could really use this win.)
He wishes he actually listened to her.
("You're not that much older than me right?" She'd pointed out, before cheerfully grabbing his hand and dropping a clear chip on it. She should've let go after that, but she didn't. He failed to notice that detail, his mind wandering over to a few weeks back, his 20th birthday, right before their kidnapping.)
He wishes he'd hold on to her tighter.
(Their high-five was short and even with his masked irritation, he liked it. A lot. She'd said something like not wanting to lose contact with him and others, and he'd smiled, too happy to take notice that the task was easy, too easy.)
He wishes he noticed that.
He wishes he trusted her.
"SOU!"
He barely registers her voice, barely registers his head falling onto something soft, the feeling of her hand on his cheek, the cold, wet sensation dropping on his face—tears, her tears, she was crying—
He opens his mouth, words come out, he doesn't know what they are.
He doesn't know what he said, but he hears her scream.
"M-me too!" She sobs, cradling his face, and he barely manages to smile, barely manages to point her towards the screen, towards the fixed Joe AI, as his thanks.
"Sou! No, Shin! Please—"
Ah, so that's what the tokens were for.
He's tired, way too tired, he wants to sleep.
"M-miss Sara," he croakes out, half lidded eyes staring into her own violet ones, overflowing with tears. He very slowly, very painfully, manages to bring his arm up, and wipes at her face. He smiles.
"Take care, Miss Sara."
And then, he sleeps.