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Shatters of glass and pottery, emitting dust into the air as pieces fall; all making their respective clinks. If one were big, it would shatter into smaller pieces. If one were already small, that piece loses itself forever from fragility.
Thinking of such concept, maybe he was every handmade sculptures made of either glass or.. the dirt and mineral soaked under water, molding it that eventually morphed into something ugly, turning useless resources into clay, only to use it on waste.
That was what Judai is. Thats it.
He didn’t— couldn’t, understand anything, but still understood better than nearly everyone else. Letting everyone be convinced that he is just a dumb lamb.
But annoyingly, how is it so difficult for him specifically to understand? Why couldn’t he get it that Judai was a bad person? He found himself to be in a loop everytime this happened between them; always breaking, never understanding one another, always ending up to be the only one that screamed, and the man still claimed to know his feelings and read him like a book like some annoying nerd.
He shouldn’t think so badly of him like this, but he couldn’t help it.
…maybe it was Judai that didn’t understand him?
Maybe he was the one looking over it all. Maybe Judai’s the one doing the damage everytime he acted out of his mind. He had torn furnitures, the walls, and even yelled out regretful things he didn’t half mean. An empty shell of a man after everything.
He was aware that his entire existence inside and out is bad, always causing damage and destruction everywhere. He couldn’t get a moment of peace in Venice; in either a duel he took upon himself through the pressure to be in, unintentionally bumping into his old friends that shared bitterness for each other, not even alone would he find serenity with those thoughts.
The feeling is an indescribable feeling whenever it happens.
It’s a rainstorm that you never expected to happen, a disaster that would take you by surprise from being undetected by the sirens and hits you like a powerful wave. Something you yourself feared as panic takes over and worsens everything in your vision, involuntarily feeling phantom hands that crevasses over your body from your mind.
It’s the feeling of uselessness and hopelessness, constant chaos and discord swirling around inside your mind and over your skin, assaulting you to your very core that causes you to shake and become wireless.
The multiple voices in your head viciously screaming at you nonstop, and the worst part may just be that all of them didn’t sound like you, telling you to do all these horrible things. They didn’t sound like Judai, but he knew all of them were him.
Demanding one over the other, overlapping cries and yells in his head everytime he loses awareness of his surroundings to the world of nothing but everything at the same time unlike reality, your consciousness now seeing anything approach up to you that only vanishes a second later.
Hell, it can even be a fuckin’ stovetop at this point and you’d be able to hear the working sounds of the machine, but with it not actually being there, only instead to being back in the middle of a subway station that he disconnected from.
Existing in the center of a crowd full of real unimagined people, standing as still as a simple traffic cone, a daily reminder of Judai’s love and hate for the real world. Even if you aren’t fully there.
You can’t feel, you can’t think, you only act on instinct, and the instincts there are telling you to—
‘There! Right there! Destroy it quickly before it becomes painful!’
‘Get a feeling! Ruin the walls, hurry, before they get you!’
‘Escape reality!’
‘Run towards the tracks and-’
...Judai was insane, he thinks.
Speaking of thinking, he wondered what others thought of him, not caring too much but purely out of curiosity. He knew one thing he cared most about, though.
Devoid of [love], finding it to be an abstract fantasy that he wished for in futility, watching it effortlessly drive further and further away. He didn’t know if [love] was running from him, or him walking away from [love]. Why would he desire for [love] if he’s just going to push them away in the end.
Did Yubel ever love him? No.
They only love who he was in his old life in 45 BC. The Haou. Him and the Haou would never be the same, he could never be like that. At least, trying to convince himself.
Thanks to how complicated he is, he strongly believe he’s ruining his relationship.
No. He already did. There isn’t a doubt he didn’t already with how distant they are now, he’ll never get it back.
Convincing himself that he ruined everything, the only thing that frustrates and confuses him the most, is that the man would never get upset with him. He’d always speak so soft spokenly, whispering sweet nothings in his light voice, even with his touches. Judai had to hold in the urge to call him a woman.
He, with how stubborn he is, didn’t want any of that sappy nonsense. So he was thankful for that slip up the man did one time that was enough to tell Judai to fuck off.
Judai wanted to hear yelling from him before they stopped talking.
He wanted to feel the familiar burning sting upon his skin again from him specifically, wanting to know how it’ll feel from getting hit by someone like him.
He wants to be reminded that he isn’t safe anywhere and everywhere on his body.
He wanted to revisit those memories his body ached for.
But him, his green eyes spoke differently to him. Almost like he saw worth in Judai as he stared in his boring-hideous brown ones. Being told occasionally of his eyes being the most sightful that he’s ever gazed upon during their time together; Judai had always believed that was a lie and so, he was unable to obtain anything that helped him feel real.
If he won’t help Judai, he’ll just seek it out himself as he fixed his belt and bangs, leaving the now tainted alleyway.