[Here. Here was a good word, in this dark, secretive place, with a body masked in a bag and holding a shovel. It's not something he'd ever planned on doing, and he doesn't know what he should feel. The situation itself is so surreal he doesn't even feel like himself. But there's that hand, the one moving a shovel away and replacing it with warm fingers, a strong grip.
Even at his worst, he has Makoto. That's good enough for him.
His hand squeezes back. Part of him has to wonder, though: what does Makoto think about this? About him?] Yeah. Let's hurry.
no subject
Even at his worst, he has Makoto. That's good enough for him.
His hand squeezes back. Part of him has to wonder, though: what does Makoto think about this? About him?] Yeah. Let's hurry.