ᴄʟᴜʙ ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅᴏx | ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅᴏx ʟɪᴠᴇ

exulansis | kuzuryu chisei

» in which you're given an insight on how chisei kuzuryu decided to spend his remaining time on earth. now, it's up to you to decide: was it all a strange dream or was everything an elaborate scheme from your 'trusted' friends, chisei and haruomi.

___

exulansis: the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it whether through envy, pity, or simple foreignness–which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.

***

the soft melody of the piano surrounded the room, as if floating in a timeless void where nothing but music existed. the notes swirled around you forcing you to look around, white walls greeted your eyes everywhere you looked.

but then your stomach sunk deeper than the ground you were standing on– like you were pushed off a building and now you're falling to your death. suddenly there was a musical crescendo in place of the soft, mellow tunes of the piano. there was dread, uneasiness, restlessness, and danger. then came the percussion– was it instruments or the beating of your heart? you wanted to run, to hide and escape yet you were still falling. you wanted to run from the pressure building up, run like you've never had before, run like you were being chased by a bull while encased inside a labyrinth's maze. the feelings you're experiencing– all of the dread, the uneasiness, the fright, the discomfort, the agitation; all of them came together to form an ensemble of their own. an ensemble that would serve as the soundtrack of your death—

"heyy~ it's time to wake up now~" you heard chisei sing as you felt his sickly fingers poke you again and again.

honestly , you didn't know where he gets all of his energy despite being one gust of wind away from death in his frail state.

"there we go! back to earth are we?" he cheered.

"chisei, i was literally sleeping." you deadpanned.

"that's for the weak." he laughed right after he rolled his eyes at you. you wanted to retort but held your tongue instead and decided to change the topic.

"how are you?" you asked as he shrugged.

"dunno, same as always." he nonchalantly replied.

'same as always' he replied. you wanted to laugh, it was a pitiful attempt at trying to comfort you. you both knew he was getting worse by the second, his skin wrinkled and aged, his body constitution heading in a downward slope.

you could only sigh in response. if it weren't for the constant beeping of the heartrate monitors, you would've thought it was just a normal day back in the shared apartment you've got with chisei and haruomi.

"your arm's getting worse." you commented as you placed a medical grade mask on your face and put on a pair of surgical gloves. chisei said nothing in reply, leaving your statement hanging in the air for a long time.

acknowledging that he didn't want to further comment or talk about his condition, you kept your mouth shut as you started on unravelling his bandaged arm to clean it.

it was getting worse, just like you thought. the phantomentals' effects were still as bad as before. his arms were deteriorating along with his feet and legs. if this were to continue any longer, alt trigger might just have to amputate his limbs. it was hard seeing him like this. seeing his own flesh rotting. the stench made the both of you gag multiple times, his limbs were colored black and unnatural. to see your flesh rotting slowly– isn't that just the scariest and most painful thing to experience?