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( something with blood inside of it )
[ without rhyme, the world stagnates.
noiz wanders, at first. picking at loose ends that the dissolution of ruff rabbit had left, doing the odd hacking job to fill his bank account. he pops into the allmate production facility from time to time, the technicians welcoming his easy flair for the work. on his birthday, sitting alone in the dark with a mouthful of greasy fettuccine, he hacks into some rich asshole's bank account and steals a million yen. the next day, he goes down the street to the noodle place at the edge of town and folds little paper boats out of 10000-yen notes, floating them in his noodle soup. his allmate chirps about new messages in his coil, two, three, fifteen. messages that he deletes without reading.
money's not the issue.
it's boredom.
nothing has changed, not for him. platinum jail has been destroyed, whoop-do-fuckin'-doo. the poor have risen up against the rich, the social order has been overthrown. the sky's still blue. the grass is still green. pepperoni is still better than cheese pizza.
he spends hours in his room, designing his own version of an usui-less rhyme. a game without the safeguards that usui had put into place.
he thinks about pain. about the nature of it. how humans could have a warning system inbuilt in to the flesh and bone and blood of organic matter. he pierces the tip of his tongue with a needle that he sterilizes in the flame of his stove, jerking himself off with his nails pressed into the slit of his dick as the bitter taste of blood fills his mouth. he gargles with salt water afterwards, tears of pain rolling down his cheeks, and he jerks off again, gripping so tightly that he leaves bloody nail-crescent on the underside of his dick.
he thinks about pain as he breaks down his allmate and rebuilds it from scrap, smooth white plastic over the copper wiring, little yellow beady eyes in a rabbit's face. the next week, he rebuilds it again, adding a whole new set of modifications.
he goes through the entire pizza menu at the joint down the road. once he's tired of it, he chooses another one, the next lock over, and makes his way through their menu, too.
four months after the fall of platinum jail, he infiltrates a rib team. it's easy enough, as long as he keeps to dark trousers and sweeping coats; no one recognizes the brooding young man with a cigarette in his mouth as the former head of the infamous ruff rabbit. his stint there lasts for two weeks before he gets bored of that, too.
he thinks about pain. about aoba's face as virus and trip had confronted them at the spire. about misunderstanding truths. about how ill-equipped he is to plunge his hands into the salt and earth of all that comprises life when he can't even understand the heartsick vulnerability he'd seen painted across aoba's face. he hadn't been sly blue in that moment, he'd been nothing but his own quiet pathos, tucked in at the edges, and noiz had watched him and watched him and not understood.
maybe it's like a graveyard, all marked up with the same gray headstones. maybe that's life: lying in a tiny wooden box with dirt shoveled over you, sipping on air so as to preserve as much of your life as possible. maybe he's looking too hard. maybe he expects too much.
six months after the fall of platinum jail, noiz breaks into aoba's apartment. he doesn't plan for it beforehand; he'd been walking through the neighborhood and had recognized the garish blue of aoba's hair. their acquaintance, their rivalry, it had been a shred of a moment in the span of noiz's life, no more remarkable than his monosyllabic relationship with the pizza delivery boy. and yet curiosity flares to life within noiz, eating away at his apathy. he follows aoba home, staying beyond the periphery of his awareness. climbing in through his window without alerting the inhabitants of the house below is an easy thing; he's connected his laptop to aoba's system and infiltrated all attempts at security before he can hear the round of itadakimasu from below.
nothing. the messages on his coil are all mundane. his purchase history is unremarkable. it's all the same. seragaki aoba, for all that he'd sparked an interest in noiz a lifetime ago, is no different from the rest.
he's about to make his escape when two bodies fall against the door from outside, knocking it open. noiz takes a fraction of a moment too long to escape out to the balcony, but it doesn't matter. aoba is too busy getting his mouth fucked by the tall dark-haired man that noiz remembers from that night in the spire. the night where nothing had made sense.
it's only when noiz hears his voice, drawn deep into an intonation of aoba's name, that he slots the pieces together. there's more on the information circuit than money and porn alone: there's rumors about a man in a hospital, about an allmate made into flesh. he'd not realized it before, but now — well, it makes perfect sense.
he escapes, then, not interested in playing voyeur. hyped on adrenaline and hungry for something more than solitude, noiz flickers through the streets, looking for something - anything - that will keep his attention. nothing. nothing but the street lights, but petty thugs, but night clubs blaring music. nothing but another pizza joint followed by a noodle shop, nothing but the same old shit that he can never escape.
when he wanders past beni-shigure's domain, he doesn't make a decision so much as he acts on instinct alone. his skin is still buzzing. tonight, he'll pierce his tongue again, he thinks.
(the low, sweet murmur of aoba's name. like it was more than a name, like it was a precious thing. held safe within his mouth.)
koujaku's home is no more difficult to infiltrate than aoba's had been. ]
Yo.
[ koujaku is eating dinner, his bird allmate perched on his shoulder. he looks calm and unaffected, at peace with himself.
--except when noiz slips into the seat opposite, a smirk tilting his mouth. that's enough to prompt a reaction.
because noiz has had enough of his life, living in the shadows, eating bad pizza and choking down the taste of his own blood. because he wants to fuck up someone else's life, for a change. ]
You know that Aoba's fucking his Allmate?
noiz wanders, at first. picking at loose ends that the dissolution of ruff rabbit had left, doing the odd hacking job to fill his bank account. he pops into the allmate production facility from time to time, the technicians welcoming his easy flair for the work. on his birthday, sitting alone in the dark with a mouthful of greasy fettuccine, he hacks into some rich asshole's bank account and steals a million yen. the next day, he goes down the street to the noodle place at the edge of town and folds little paper boats out of 10000-yen notes, floating them in his noodle soup. his allmate chirps about new messages in his coil, two, three, fifteen. messages that he deletes without reading.
money's not the issue.
it's boredom.
nothing has changed, not for him. platinum jail has been destroyed, whoop-do-fuckin'-doo. the poor have risen up against the rich, the social order has been overthrown. the sky's still blue. the grass is still green. pepperoni is still better than cheese pizza.
he spends hours in his room, designing his own version of an usui-less rhyme. a game without the safeguards that usui had put into place.
he thinks about pain. about the nature of it. how humans could have a warning system inbuilt in to the flesh and bone and blood of organic matter. he pierces the tip of his tongue with a needle that he sterilizes in the flame of his stove, jerking himself off with his nails pressed into the slit of his dick as the bitter taste of blood fills his mouth. he gargles with salt water afterwards, tears of pain rolling down his cheeks, and he jerks off again, gripping so tightly that he leaves bloody nail-crescent on the underside of his dick.
he thinks about pain as he breaks down his allmate and rebuilds it from scrap, smooth white plastic over the copper wiring, little yellow beady eyes in a rabbit's face. the next week, he rebuilds it again, adding a whole new set of modifications.
he goes through the entire pizza menu at the joint down the road. once he's tired of it, he chooses another one, the next lock over, and makes his way through their menu, too.
four months after the fall of platinum jail, he infiltrates a rib team. it's easy enough, as long as he keeps to dark trousers and sweeping coats; no one recognizes the brooding young man with a cigarette in his mouth as the former head of the infamous ruff rabbit. his stint there lasts for two weeks before he gets bored of that, too.
he thinks about pain. about aoba's face as virus and trip had confronted them at the spire. about misunderstanding truths. about how ill-equipped he is to plunge his hands into the salt and earth of all that comprises life when he can't even understand the heartsick vulnerability he'd seen painted across aoba's face. he hadn't been sly blue in that moment, he'd been nothing but his own quiet pathos, tucked in at the edges, and noiz had watched him and watched him and not understood.
maybe it's like a graveyard, all marked up with the same gray headstones. maybe that's life: lying in a tiny wooden box with dirt shoveled over you, sipping on air so as to preserve as much of your life as possible. maybe he's looking too hard. maybe he expects too much.
six months after the fall of platinum jail, noiz breaks into aoba's apartment. he doesn't plan for it beforehand; he'd been walking through the neighborhood and had recognized the garish blue of aoba's hair. their acquaintance, their rivalry, it had been a shred of a moment in the span of noiz's life, no more remarkable than his monosyllabic relationship with the pizza delivery boy. and yet curiosity flares to life within noiz, eating away at his apathy. he follows aoba home, staying beyond the periphery of his awareness. climbing in through his window without alerting the inhabitants of the house below is an easy thing; he's connected his laptop to aoba's system and infiltrated all attempts at security before he can hear the round of itadakimasu from below.
nothing. the messages on his coil are all mundane. his purchase history is unremarkable. it's all the same. seragaki aoba, for all that he'd sparked an interest in noiz a lifetime ago, is no different from the rest.
he's about to make his escape when two bodies fall against the door from outside, knocking it open. noiz takes a fraction of a moment too long to escape out to the balcony, but it doesn't matter. aoba is too busy getting his mouth fucked by the tall dark-haired man that noiz remembers from that night in the spire. the night where nothing had made sense.
it's only when noiz hears his voice, drawn deep into an intonation of aoba's name, that he slots the pieces together. there's more on the information circuit than money and porn alone: there's rumors about a man in a hospital, about an allmate made into flesh. he'd not realized it before, but now — well, it makes perfect sense.
he escapes, then, not interested in playing voyeur. hyped on adrenaline and hungry for something more than solitude, noiz flickers through the streets, looking for something - anything - that will keep his attention. nothing. nothing but the street lights, but petty thugs, but night clubs blaring music. nothing but another pizza joint followed by a noodle shop, nothing but the same old shit that he can never escape.
when he wanders past beni-shigure's domain, he doesn't make a decision so much as he acts on instinct alone. his skin is still buzzing. tonight, he'll pierce his tongue again, he thinks.
(the low, sweet murmur of aoba's name. like it was more than a name, like it was a precious thing. held safe within his mouth.)
koujaku's home is no more difficult to infiltrate than aoba's had been. ]
Yo.
[ koujaku is eating dinner, his bird allmate perched on his shoulder. he looks calm and unaffected, at peace with himself.
--except when noiz slips into the seat opposite, a smirk tilting his mouth. that's enough to prompt a reaction.
because noiz has had enough of his life, living in the shadows, eating bad pizza and choking down the taste of his own blood. because he wants to fuck up someone else's life, for a change. ]
You know that Aoba's fucking his Allmate?