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The touch against his face was surprisingly gentle, yet cold as the sun.
Why had he allowed himself to fall so far? Kinjo couldn't bring himself to care, even though he knew it was wrong. It was a betrayal, but it was also the only place he belonged. When he looked up, the abyss stared back, but he didn't flinch. Instead, he lay there, bloody, bruised, and defeated. This was an embrace meant only for him. As he struggled to breathe, brown eyes gazed down. It was like he was being asked if this was what he wanted, even before hearing that hollow voice. Did it still belong to the one he wanted to see the most?
"...Is this what you wish...?" Kinjo nodded, bloody hands still and chest cold. His blue hair brushed up against his monster's neck, swishing quietly. His captor said nothing more, neither savoring in his victory nor pausing to pity him. That was okay, though. It would all be okay. After all, when was the last time someone had held him so close?
A hand parted hair away from his face, caressing his cheek, and staring down at his stinging eyes. It was almost like a consolation, as if he was being told he had fought well. Kinjo doesn't struggle, despite knowing what was sure to come next. He had no interest in getting up or fighting anymore. There was nowhere else left for him. Just here. Only here. If it meant his demise to stay, he would still lie here. Hadn't he fought enough? If it was his time to be taken, perhaps he could allow himself to be consumed, if only for this person... Yes... For him, he could bear anything...
Now he was being held close, crushed lungs still managing to draw breath, clothes bloody and skin bruised. He laid in the lap of the void, yet he was still comfortable and warm. It was so warm, somehow, and each touch was so soft he longed for the next. There was no need to be gentle, and yet, he was being handled with care. Surely that was because he was wanted here, and loved.
A hand pressed down over his chest. This too, was acceptable. If his heart was desired, it could be taken. It had belonged to this person for so long already now.
Take it. I don't need it anymore... He knew it was foolish, and wrong. But perhaps his blood belonged on those hands. It was still warmth, and desire. Belonging, even if he were to be swallowed whole, would be his, now.
Hands held him up, and blood poured freely. Was he being attacked, or helped? He didn't know. Pain lanced distantly, far from his body. Was there blood on the lips of his beloved? Did it belong to him? Did he belong to him? Wouldn't that be enough? Either way, the hands were slow and almost gentle, pausing at times to touch his face, or play with his hair.
That's right... That's because he was special... He wasn't something to be toyed with or rushed through. He was treasured; no part of him would be discarded. Kinjo takes a slow breath, taking in air against blood and broken bone. Yes. Everything about him was accepted here. Even his sins would be taken in.
If he survived the ordeal, or not, he was wanted. He was needed. It was time, for once, to let himself rest. He'd had enough of justice, solitude, and death. Hadn't he tried enough? Hadn't he done his best? It hadn't mattered, no matter what he did. The same song kept playing on and on, deaths on his hands, sacrifices, failures. Now, it was at last silent.
Perhaps seeing his sorrow, the monster above cupped his face, and drew in closer. Ginger hair fell against this cheek, and Kinjo melted into the touch, leaning into his captor's hold. A quiet, soothing hush breathed against his ear, and Kinjo closed his eyes. Everything faded slowly into red, and he sunk, deeper and deeper.
Take what you will of me. He thought. And so it was.
It was impossible to know how much time passed in the depths. His thoughts slowed, only focused on the touch and sound above. The blood seemed to be permeating everything but his thoughts. Eventually, though, the pain became too great. When Kinjo surfaced at last, it was with a whimper. It hurt. Why did everything have to hurt? So many things had wounded him over the years. Even this, the one place he belonged, still stung bitterly.
Everything above him went still at those tiny sounds of betrayal and hurt. The hold on him softened, and hands trembled around him.
"Kinjo...?" A quiet voice called him back, as always. Something wet landed on his neck, before trailing down into nothingness. There was pressure over his wounds now, as though his love had suddenly given up on taking. Kinjo can only moan as he's held even more tightly. He stared up in confusion at the tears there. Aren't you going to take me...? He was still wanted, so it would have been okay, if the one he loved hadn't suddenly seemed so sad.
Slowly, weakly, Kinjo reached up to touch the face above. In response, he was met with choked sobs and a firm, tight hug. Yet, there was blood on those lips and hands, wasn't there? Wasn't it already over?
Shouldn't he have been taken in, by now? Even if he was consumed or killed, he wouldn't cry. He wouldn't struggle, not anymore. It wasn't so bad an end. He would be kept, always. Closer than anyone else.
The sobbing went quiet, and everything was dark. Was this all that remained? Kinjo opened his eyes, and saw nothing. Was he alone? Had he been discarded, after all? Sorrow filled his chest. Even being torn into would be better than being tossed aside, insignificant and alone.
Then, he heard a heartbeat, pounding along all around him. A new sound, which the monster had never carried. The crying had stopped, but his love was breathing heavily. Kinjo was small in this strange, bloody embrace. He couldn't tell if the pressure around him was that of flesh, blood, and bone, or if those familiar arms were wrapped around him.
Someone was whispering something to him. They were asking him not to die.
Was staying an option? He hoped it was. The heartbeat continued, fierce and afraid. Kinjo wasn't sure where his had gone, but that was okay. One was enough.
Blood and flesh, sinew and bone... He was surrounded with what should have been pain and death, yet he was wanted and held. Each touch was gentle, each word was kind and pleading. He was small in his love's embrace, surrounded and held more tightly than he had ever been. That's right. He was loved. Kinjo sunk, surrendering in full to the mercy of his love, not desiring anything but this.