Not Into Anything (Zero Kiryu)
| Not Into Anything (Zero Kiryu) | |
|---|---|
| Date of Cutscene: | 30 September 2018 |
| Location: | Zero's Apartment |
| Synopsis: | In which Zero Kiryu broods over a stupid exchange. |
| Cast of Characters: | Zero Kiryu |
Zero returned home feeling rotten, and it didn't have anything to do with the revolting things in the Shadow Tower. He could deal with the visceral and violent, with body horror and scenes of death. If they were fresh enough and he was neglecting himself enough they drove him a little bit crazy, but that wasn't out of any sort of revulsion. If he couldn't handle dreadful violence he wouldn't be prepared for his job. He's moonlighting as a bodyguard, but that's not what he really is. He leaned against the vanity, his hands sliding into the piles of paper packets that had accumulated there over the previous... how long? Zero couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered to clean it up.
He didn't take visitors, and the only people who would come calling were used to him being a slob. It wasn't really that he just didn't want to clean up, of course. Most of the time... most of the time, he just didn't have the energy in his body to do anything he didn't need to do. His fingers brushed plastic. Today, that wasn't true. There was no fever to attempt to bring down, no violent urges, no stomach-grinding hunger. Zero scooped the mound of paper packets up into his arms and deposited them in his trash bin.
Was she teasing him, or had she really meant it? Zero couldn't tell. Dimly, he wondered if she could tell the difference with him. He moved clothing strewn about into his laundry basket as he thought. They had met nine, maybe ten years ago. They were still children, but only just. Chairman Cross had brought him home after the attack on the Kiryu household, a scenario that Zero dimly remembered explaining to the man before he ran out of energy to do anything but Be. After settling him with a blanket over his shoulders, the man had taken off to deal with the matter of the authorities.
Yuuki cleaned him up. When he'd scratched the wound on his neck open and just started digging it deeper and deeper, she stopped him... and again, and again. How long was it until he just didn't do it anymore? Zero didn't remember, but he remembered that she sat there with him every night until then. Holding his hand. Stopping him from hurting himself. He lifted his phone from the end table and placed it back on its hook. It was sunset-- he'd usually start trying to force himself to sleep about now. It took about that long to work himself into it enough to get half as much rest as he needed.
Zero stared at his mattress, which sat at an odd angle on its frame and had wrinkled red sheets thrown across it haphazardly. He huffed irritably and draped his coat over his elbow, wandering out into the night to figure out which stupid penthouse, mansion, or townhouse Yuuki was actually in this time.
