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Nothing really mattered. He was caught. He was done in. Life was even more ruined now, forget about being sent away to a backwater town-
Got to gather up his things, he's all bruised and bandaged from getting out. He wasn't exactly too much a favorite- A cop in jail? That's just a damn huge target. Every day was a punishment. Every day he just wondered. Treated as a mentally cracked person when he told the truth of TVs and other worlds... Heh. What did anyone know?
Here he was, in Dojima's house. His ex-partner. Heh. Shouldn't of left the man alone for a moment as Adachi's sneaking into Dojima's room. He remembers. He knows where it'd be. Trying to fix the oversized white shirt from slipping off of himself, as he crouches down and grabs the box from under the dresser. Still remembers the combination, as he turns the dial. Trusted once- just in case any time he was over- if there /ever/ was a need.
Standing up, smiling cruelly as he relishes in the cool touch. Damn, it's been a while. There's power just holding the gun, feeling the weight, smelling the metal.
Waves it around just briefly, until he takes a side-glance toward the door. Shit. He didn't want to just... there wasn't anything, and now all he'll be was something to be pitied?
The cool barrel went under his chin, sneering slightly. It'd be so easy, then nothing would matter. He wouldn't have to go through treatments, take medicine, get bored by having to hear shit on and on and questions of why did he do this, why does he think this. Fucking silence everything- keep those eyes away from him that plague his nightmares.
...But his finger steadied as he started a cold sweat, looking down, unsure. A coward. Always a coward. No matter what. Right? Shit fuck that, he's not-
Bringing up his other hand, shaking now as he tries to move his fingers, but they won't go on the trigger, not even rest against the metal as he's scared. Adachi takes a breath and squeezes his eyes tight. One. Two--
The gun is wretched away from his face, as the other hand is being pulled off quickly, squeezed tight right on a bruise. Eyes wide as the pain in his arm makes him let go of the gun, but only grimaces as he completely lets go.
Dojima.
Dojima's taking away his only hope to escape. Yet...
Those two strong arms are wrapping around him. Tight. Suffocating. Out of pity(probably)? Out of love that never was (no. He just needs to admit. It at least was real from the older's side)? Obligation(He's never been good about obligation though)? Probably everything. That damn old man is too fucking much of a bleeding heart.
But...
Tears form, Adachi's clutching onto that old shirt, starting to weep as the embrace gets even tighter. A broken man in the arms of another man who once was broken himself. There's understanding. Even if not the same experiences, there's a kinship.
Shaking, the long and skinny fingers go to clutch the arms, sobbing - there's so much to say. There's words pounding in his head, but all he says is a stupid misplaced statement. There's truth, but it's not what he wants to say.
"I was suppose to be great."
"...I know." There's a hint of tears in the deep voice.
Does he? Or is Dojima just stating that he understands he can't come out and say what he really wants to. The torrent of emotion and pain that he's kept inside for years. The apologies, and the admittance he's still not sorry for what he did, but only that it got the two people he begun to care about involved.
All he can do is hold on.