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The brutality in each pull was desperation. Something needed to give. Something needed to give.
Iron seeped into Kyo’s mouth like a stimulant, and he let himself drift in it as the bass thrummed. He could hear the crowd, louder than they were before, which pleased him only as much as it aggravated. This was what they wanted from him. In the moment, it didn’t seem far-fetched to think they’d purposefully provoked him into it. He felt the blood flow down his throat and passively considered leaving it until his body forcefully convulsed it back up, his mind savoring the image of it showering the faces in the front row.
Hands that would never reach him clawed and clattered in his direction. They’d fucking love it.
Hacking it up and spitting it off to his left, Kyo watched it splatter against the black of the stage instead. His own restraint often left him disappointed. So did the diluted, barely-pink shade he saw when he wiped the saliva trailing down his chin off with his palm. A bit dazed, he brought the microphone back up to his mouth, cupping it in both hands as the instrumental came to an end. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see those faces or hands anymore.
The rest of the show was little more than an intense blur of flashing and screaming, the crowd dimming down to its usual drawl by the next song. By the time the encore finished and he’d stepped back off his platform inelegantly, Kyo was stumbling off-stage in a way he could only hope looked like stomping. He paid no mind to anybody, collapsed onto the nearest seat, and hunched over himself. His head felt as numb as his mouth.
People moved around him. Die handed a half empty water bottle to him as he passed, and he was quick to down it. At his side so quickly after he felt a bit swarmed, Shinya held out a towel to him, which he accepted with a nod.
If he wanted to make it home at a reasonable time, and pass out in his own bed rather than right here in this chair, he’d need to get moving soon. The thought taunted him as he rolled it around. His mind pulled down on his limbs, draining him far more than any physical exertion.
As Kyo watched Kaoru go, gait stiff like he wanted to say something but thought better of it, the water bottle that dangled empty in one of his hands was slipped out gently enough he didn’t need to look to know it was Toshiya. He did look though, and was rewarded with a soft smile he’d never get sick of seeing.
Teenage Kyo would’ve laughed in your face if you told him he’d have a group of people he cared about like this, let alone one that cared for him back. The Kyo of now gives a half-smile back. He didn’t feel better, but around them, at least he always feels like him.
Resigned as he watched Toshiya leave too, Kyo finally heaved himself out of the chair and headed to collect his stuff.