streetwalkers | (no subject)

... Not feeling so talkative now, huh.

[ kida masaomi actually keeping his mouth shut, now there's a shocker. one has to wonder what's going through his head right now; is he trying to find some way out of this? kicking himself for going down so easily? maybe even cursing aoba for bringing him down? or maybe, most likely, he's thinking about mikado. he's worthless like that, after all; he doesn't have any right to be worried about mikado when he doesn't even know what kind of person he is. ]

Now. [ aoba drops down from the table, squatting down next to kida. ]

Are you going to drop dead of your own accord, or are you going to make this difficult for me?

[Difficult appears to be the answer. His breathing is shallow, but he's still in there enough to make eye contact. He'd kill Aoba if he could. If his body would just respond, he'd punch that smile in until there was nothing left of it. It isn't fair, like this. He doesn't want to die stuck lying on the floor, unable to even fight for his life. It's humiliating, and it's terrifying, and it's so frustrating he could almost cry. But he doesn't want to look any more pathetic than he already does, so he focuses on glaring daggers instead. It's hard to get words out at this point, but he'll do his damndest to force a few.]

Couldn't... beat me honestly?

If it makes you feel better, sure.

[ he'd like to argue that a pair of gang leaders have no business to be talking about fair play, but he rather doubts kida has the energy to keep up a debate. as it is, he'll just enjoy this, the experience of being in a position of power, for as long as he can. ]

Though, if I couldn't, that's not much encouragement for me to fight you honestly, huh. [ he reaches over the table, slowly, and picks up a knife, toying with it for a moment to see kida's reaction before setting it down on the floor.

no sense rushing things, after all. ]

Don't hate me too much for this, okay? If you had the chance to take me out, you'd have leaped at the opportunity.

[As soon as the knife appears, his focus changes to it. He can't do more than try to keep himself awake by concentrating, so he concentrates on that instead of Aoba's face, following it with his eyes until it's on the floor. His fingertips twitch as he aches to reach out and grab it, but that's all the response he's able to get from them.]

He won't accept this...

[Not that he thinks that'll change Aoba's mind. But he can't just shut up and accept death, so even though his vision is swimming and his eyelids are drooping, he tries to talk back. It comes out a slurred mumble, but it's something. He's trying.

It's a shame he seems to have run out of his supply of lucky rescues.]

True.

[ he's destroying everything mikado-senpai's working towards here, after all. his senior's dreams of making everything and playing house or whatever the hell he's planning on will come to a sudden stop, and lord only knows what'll happen to aoba after that. well, even if it'd make it a rather pointless affair if he died over this, he can't say he'd have a problem with that; he wants to see the depths of mikado's madness for himself, so tasting his fury firsthand wouldn't be bad way to go.

or maybe he's just desperately trying to reassure himself that he's not making a mistake here, who knows. ]

But you see, he won't find out about this.

[ without much ceremony, aoba simply picks the knife back up and presses it against kida's leg, not hard enough to pierce the skin but certainly enough to hurt. it just wouldn't do if kida stopped paying attention to their conversation, and besides, he'd like to see if his sense of pain has dulled at all. ]

[His flinch, though present, is delayed by a beat. The sensation seems to come through a fog, but he can feel it, as much as he can feel his pulse racing, oddly irregular as it throbs in his chest and his head.

It wouldn't be that hard to hide this from Mikado, he supposes. Even if Mikado knows he's gone, he may never know it's Aoba's fault. But his disappearance as a whole will be noted. He'll be gone from chat, for one. Saki and Izaya will notice him gone from real life. Eventually his parents will think it's been too long without word. It's not like he's someone who won't be missed, entirely. But... but there's not much. He's not really important. It's not like he's a cute, successful young girl, for the police to stage a search for.

But, well, it wouldn't matter if they did. He'll be dead before it even occurs to anyone to wonder where he's gotten off to. There really isn't anything for him to hope for at this point, is there? It's just a matter of waiting to see how he's going to be finished off. As that sinks in, he goes a shade paler, giving up on arguing in favor of just squeezing his eyes closed and praying for a miracle.]

It's rude to ignore your cute kouhai, you know.

[ punctuated, of course, with another light jab to kida's knee. it's a fairly juvenile reaction, all things considered, but if kida has the gall to stay conscious he may as well listen, aoba reasons.

unfortunately, there's no way for them to hide the fact that kida suddenly vanished one day, but that won't be necessary; all aoba needs to do is stall, make sure the body isn't found for as long as possible, until tracing this back to him is no longer possible.

well, he imagines orihara izaya will probably figure it out at one point or another, but that's really none of his concern. ]

It's not like you have much time left, so you may as well appreciate it. Any preference for how I do this?

I don't... want to talk to you.

[It doesn't matter what he says anyway, does it? Aoba will just do what he wants. Besides, Kida doesn't want to think about different ways he can die, let alone lower himself to asking for mercy. He would just like to not die at all. But since survival is off the table, he'll at least keep his pride. He's not going to beg, and he's going to try not to pass out early.]

[ so going the fuck to sleep didn't work out all that well, go figure. ]

Really? Now there's a shame; we have so much to talk about, you know?

[ he's stalling, honestly, trying to give himself more time so he can psyche up for what he's about to do. but if kida insists on ignoring him, then he's really forcing aoba's hand here. again without any warning, aoba raises the knife and, after a few tense seconds, plunges it into kida's thigh. let's see how far that pride of kida's will take him. ]

[Instinct is, of course, to try to get away from that. Were he able to, he'd pull back, fight back, shove Aoba away. He'd scream, too -- it hurts that much, and he's that desperate for help. But his body won't move that much, and he can't get that deep a breath. All he can do is jerk a little, turn his head just a bit, and curl his fingers halfway as that scream is stifled into a choked, almost whimpering sound. But he doesn't give in and ask him to make it easier. Not yet. He doesn't want to give Aoba that satisfaction, no matter how terrified he really is. And he doesn't cry either, even if tears feel just a tiny fragile bit of self-control away.]

S-screw off...

[ kida's nothing if not tenacious, it seems; under drastically different circumstances, aoba might've found something admirable in that, but here and now, it's just a bother. there's no point in putting on a brave face at this point, after all! smirking, aoba twists the knife, digging it in a little deeper, if only to try and force another one of those stifled cries out of kida. it's quite a satisfying thing to hear, honestly, a reminder of how he's the one in control here. ]

I'll leave as soon as we're finished here. How's that?

[He gets the sound he was going for, of course. Kida's head is too fuzzy to hold back that much. It's followed by sharp, rapid breaths, shallow but almost frantic in their ragged pace. It hurts. It really hurts, and being unable to struggle or run hurts worse, the dark and ice-cold pain of fear in his chest and in his mind. He's trying to hold them down, but the thoughts keep multiplying in his head regardless: He's going to die. He can't stop it, and no one's going to save him. But he doesn't want to. He's not ready to, and inwardly he's begging someone, anyone to make this stop.

It's pathetic. But it's there, and it's an overwhelming feeling, and it's showing in his expression despite himself. He looks up at Aoba, trying to glare, but it just comes out a look of "desperately trying not to fall apart".]

How about you go-- go find something else to do...? This isn't going to help you.

See, that's where you're wrong.

[ well, he's talking at least, that's something. the question still earns kida another twist of the knife for his trouble though, a way to ensure his attention doesn't waver and a means to let aoba work out his frustrations. because no, he doesn't have any other options, he needs to go through with this, and being reminded of that for even an instant is enough to get his temper flaring, enough to make him drop the tired old façade for a minute. ]

I might not particularly want to do this, but it's going to help me a great deal.

[He can't help his whimper, or the twitches as he tries to squirm. He wishes he could do more -- get his hands around Aoba's neck, maybe. Shake him, at least, or if all else failed, just plain run. But he can't do anything but breathe. He'd almost take being allowed to pass out, at this point.]

Then do it. If there's really-- n-no way I'm getting out of here alive... then man up and kill me. Or... or give me another choice...

[Aoba's hesitating, after all. It's nothing like he can make his fate worse by asking for a way out -- any way. He won't be alive to be embarrassed by it later if it fails.]

butt thing tosshi

lodging this shit in your inbox

let's make this happen and make drea suuuuuuper jelly

so what if

i just put up a starter

you like kidaoba right

it can be our own little way of celebrating the new anime

we are not doing the butt thing

are you sure

oh right i owe you a tag here from way back don't i

i should get on that

Omg suck a dick

is there a problem, tosshi

let'd discuss the butt thing a little, shall we?

might we dish out the roles in this disgusting dance of assnotist and assnotized?

the spitroasting where is it

also you misspelt his surname on your court profile gj i'm so proud of you my amazing friend

I put that profile up while 90% asleep smd

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xanthophylls - 2015-04-06 06:33 (UTC) - Expand

Well, you see...

[ aoba shrugs one shoulder, takes perhaps the barest hint of pleasure in watching kida squirm as he starts to grow bored - discontent - with the show he's being provided. ultimately, he is wasting his time here, time that his associates can no doubt spend messing up, letting someone slip through the perimeter, getting caught, time in which everything can go so horribly wrong. but he's content for now, weighs the odds in his head and decides he can spare a few minutes more. ]

I'm the victor here, aren't I? Getting to gloat a little is well within my rights. [ and again, see how aoba's words stand at such clear contrast to his expression! appeasing his own ego is certainly an incentive, he won't deny. ] And besides, this is the first and last time we'll get to talk, Kida-senpai! A kid my age can't help feeling sentimental.

[ the knife is twisted one last time before it's withdrawn, raised until held mere inches from kida's throat, and there it stays, for a moment that seems to last an eternity (nine months, five days and twenty-three hours to be more precise, give or take), before it moves up to graze against kida's cheek, as if to mar that pretty face. ]

But let's talk about this 'other choice' idea; how do you plan on making sparing you worth my while?