[His own breaths are sharp and shallow, sliding into hyperventilating as the crying and the hole in his insides keep him from breathing deep or steady. He has to brace himself with his injured arm, palm scraping on the pavement next to Mikado's neck, but he's hardly feeling the pain now. He grits his teeth as he pulls the trigger--
-- for a moment, his ears ring, and it seems like the world has paused --
-- and then he drops the gun, hit with the familiar sense of failure and a wall of self-loathing and grief that leaves him feeling like he's been violently, forcibly gutted and hollowed out, in a way that nothing could possibly ever fill back up. He doubles over til his face is pressed into Mikado's neck, ignoring their mixed blood all over both of them, and it's only the fact that's he's completely breathless that keeps him from screaming until he whites out.
no subject
-- for a moment, his ears ring, and it seems like the world has paused --
-- and then he drops the gun, hit with the familiar sense of failure and a wall of self-loathing and grief that leaves him feeling like he's been violently, forcibly gutted and hollowed out, in a way that nothing could possibly ever fill back up. He doubles over til his face is pressed into Mikado's neck, ignoring their mixed blood all over both of them, and it's only the fact that's he's completely breathless that keeps him from screaming until he whites out.
Just like he always does.]