aerimido for peach aka midos perpetual doki hell

[discarding]

just gonna use this as a gen catchall, will hopefully gather up and link all prior TL in this entry

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aef AU, NDE - 1/2

[discarding]

[it's too much to bear. too much to think about it. and so, he's elected not to.

for months, with no real, meaningful goals to repress his humanity, pathetically, Midousuji had felt himself begin to relent. Ishigaki had actually planted that scene, and Midousuji didn't realize it until Ishigaki had actually shown up in this place. shown up, became a vampire, died before his very eyes, and not but a month later, totally vanished.

they'd been bonded—desperately rattled up from the incident of Ishigaki's death, even though he knew it was coming, Midousuji waited until Ishigaki came gasping back to un-life, and with a trembling hand, he'd smashed his wrist to Ishigaki's face, hissing incessantly with wide, tired and frantic eyes, his mouth drawn taught, all his teeth bared and clenched as he forced himself to be Ishigaki's first feed. he ignored Ishigaki's ensuing guilty tears, unable to shake the memory of watching Ishigaki pass. how it made him wonder about how his mother went, how she'd been with no one she really knew.

it made Midousuji realize he appreciated Ishigaki, which was horrible. gut-wrenching. it was strange to be forced to realize how traumatizing it would be if Ishigaki died, even if it hadn't been in front of him—especially if it had been permanent. not like here, which is why Midousuji had underestimated how much it would impact him.

they grew closer, a little bit. a shameful, pathetic pull—Midousuji was finally letting himself get reigned in by his keeper, resigned to his own human predilections. then he'd vanished, just like that, leaving Midousuji to stare to nothingness from the tops of his knees, curled up on the hill where they'd spent long, humid nights, often not saying much at all. empty, just like when his mother had died.

his first hint Midousuji had actually been aware of, regarding this danger—folding to the need of human connection—had been Aerith. it was confusing, because those feelings were different from Ishigaki's. a little. the fact that they were only a little different tail-spun Midousuji's brain, making him wonder if he just didn't know how to attach properly. he'd been severed for too long, maybe; it was humiliating, being aware of the thirsting, gaping abyss inside him.

he knows his feelings for Aerith are romantic, even if his feelings towards Ishigaki were bit more of a confusing case. and when Ishigaki vanished, not but two weeks later, it was the anniversary of his mother's death. Midousuji sat on that hill again, his ears deafened by the thick chirring of cicadas. he had no bike to take him home—because his bike was his home, as were the roads it could travel. and he had no grave to pay respects to. for the first time since he was a baby, Midousuji's eyes grew hot with tears, his otherwise stoic face dimpling just slightly at his chin—and he ducked his forehead against his bony knees, making up his mind.

the idea of getting closer to Aerith was now more terrifying than an enticing, risky curiousity, novel and sunny. all the warm feelings she'd slowly filled in him felt ominous, now—a place like this, it made sense. it was foolish to get close to anyone, but this stupid place facilitated the need for it to survive. but what does surviving even mean? what is the reward?

if you die, you don't die. if you indulge in human connection, that's when you die—a miring, degrading realization Midousuji made, biting his lip as his vision swam, hot and blurry, as he slowly closed his hands around his crown, taking slow fistfuls of his own hair. he didn't realize it, or perhaps didn't face it, while knowing deep down—but part of why he'd stayed away from all this is because the loss is too unbearable.

he can't call heartbreak for what it is, but he knows its feeling. he cared too much about Aerith to lose her—and couldn't risk getting any closer. he knew these risks, and arrogantly ignored them.

so Midousuji didn't reinstate a bond—he didn't want to go through the trouble of arranging it, much less risking being open from his most vulnerable, private places in his heart and soul. he'd let Ishigaki in there.

he missed Ishigaki being there.

instead, Midousuji elected to withdraw. he stopped using his watch, for a couple weeks, and made himself scarce. stopped showing up to his job. then, he left. just got up, and left. left behind his watch in his cottage, not taking more than a simple rucksack that didn't even have a change of clothes (just more layers), and left towards the wilds. he didn't really care if he starved, or befell some kind of beast. sure, the idea of having such a violent death was scary, but he was too hollow to process it realistically. and the emotional pain was far more eviscerating. he was a survivor, but not a survivalist.

and that's how he processed his grief. he didn't shed any more tears. he didn't let himself. and it wasn't so bad, really. in fact, it started to feel like the right choice—Midousuji knew it was madness talking, but he was content to let it vice and twist his brain however it wanted. in fact, going mad would be a welcome reprieve. Midousuji had debated grabbing a store of alcohol before he'd left, but deduced (accurately) that it wouldn't wall it away at all—it would only box him in with the beast that was his heart.

and, predictably, while he'd weathered away for quite some time, Midousuji didn't even feel when he was starving—didn't notice he'd lost his shoes. and legitimately, he did not care. he toiled, spuddling, with magics—attacked and killed game, but made no use of the spoils. he went from feeling nothing to feeling delirious, pointless amusement, wondering if he was going to be overcame by starvation, or explosion.

eventually, Midousuji gasped loudly, his voice painful and dry as he lurched suddenly forward. it was similar to when you'd be falling asleep, but suddenly, you were so sure you'd just missed a step on a flight of stares, jolting awake to catch your fall. but Midousuji was indeed lurching forward in this manner, like he'd not realized he was on a curb—but what was similar to that experience was that it was sudden, and disorienting. Midousuji's long, bone-thin arms windmilled, too tired to even shriek, as he barely managed to clumsily slap a palm to the wood floor, darkly finished.

heaving, Midousuji felt the rest of his body drop to the ground, pulling him onto his side. Midousuji's mouth gaped open; his mind still buzzed, and everything... hurt. catastrophically. he could taste blood, but wasn't aware of how it was dried at the corners of his mouth, and from his ringing ears to down the back of his head, as well as his neck. his body burned, and, puzzlingly, he was naked. mostly. there were some patches of fabric singed into his skin, here and there, but it hardly kept him decent. most of his sleeve clung uselessly to an almost in tact loop around his waist. otherwise, he was butt-ass naked, and not even aware if he was naked or dressed. unaware that he was covered in wounds—strange ones, too, like he'd been slashed with burning knives. aside from those, it was just a lot of burn marks.

he realized it when he managed to push himself up—the sight of himself startled him, both because it was horrific, but because he knew this room. turning with great labor, Midousuji looked to his entry point.]

Ah... my...

[and he collapsed sideways again, letting his bony limbs tossle atop eachother uselessly, staring to the cracks in the wooden walls.]

...mirror...

[and Midousuji laid that way, for at least an hour or two, until he was found by a startled witch of the coven. he gave her nothing, not reacting; she'd thought he'd died again, until she touched his pulse. the warmth of her touch made him grit his teeth, widening his eyes in a strange flinch. she gasped when he rolled his eyes to her, rasping venomously.

he wasn't really aware what was going on—he was still with madness.]