[There would be no clear solution, no proper winner to this conundrum. Neither of them had proper value of their own lives to achieve something like that, both so perfectly willing to leap in between someone else and a bullet that they ended up at a crossroads. Keisuke, frustratingly enough, feels as though he has more of a reason to. Rin is useful in situations where he is not. He's quick, clever, strong, amiable, and he could handle more than his own in a fight. Keisuke, by his own comparison, was bumbling and troublesome, never able to properly defend himself, so he was only ever a liability.
It made him want to yell in frustration, that this keeps happening. It was agonizing. How many times would people get hurt because of him? Whether it was Rin, eyes gentle and voice soft in saying this was his decision, or Akira, shrugging it off in that nonchalant way he did, it still hurt. It was a constant reminder of his own shortcomings, reflected in trouble on those he cared for.
It's a tangled web of emotions he's got, all snarled up in the space between his heart and his throat. He swallows with some difficulty, fearing a scratchiness in his voice, first nodding into the crown of Rin's head at his response. Perhaps he should've been embarrassed at how Rin nuzzles into him, like an animal affectionately into the palm of an owner, but he doesn't repudiate it.] ...Okay. [It was all he could give. An affirmative, trying to acknowledge and appreciate, even though what Rin had given him—an affirmation of caring enough to risk himself—was something Keisuke felt guilty in taking.
They separate, albeit slightly, but enough room for Keisuke to be partially blinded by Rin's bright smile. He wonders, for a half-second, if that's the whole story of it. But he accepts it at face value, thinking he owed that to him.
Rin's fist makes a resounding sound against his chest, deep, like a beat against a drum. He looks down to where it rests, a belated smile etching itself across his face, and he looks back to Rin. He gives a single, rough laugh.] If there's anyone who can fight against those things with just a knife, it'd be you, right? [He reaches up to tap his own knuckles against Rin's chest, knowing that, despite how thin the guy was, he was solid, tough.]
Yeah. We'll - cross that bridge when we get there.
[Knowing this place, it would be sooner than he would want. But, for now -]
no subject
It made him want to yell in frustration, that this keeps happening. It was agonizing. How many times would people get hurt because of him? Whether it was Rin, eyes gentle and voice soft in saying this was his decision, or Akira, shrugging it off in that nonchalant way he did, it still hurt. It was a constant reminder of his own shortcomings, reflected in trouble on those he cared for.
It's a tangled web of emotions he's got, all snarled up in the space between his heart and his throat. He swallows with some difficulty, fearing a scratchiness in his voice, first nodding into the crown of Rin's head at his response. Perhaps he should've been embarrassed at how Rin nuzzles into him, like an animal affectionately into the palm of an owner, but he doesn't repudiate it.] ...Okay. [It was all he could give. An affirmative, trying to acknowledge and appreciate, even though what Rin had given him—an affirmation of caring enough to risk himself—was something Keisuke felt guilty in taking.
They separate, albeit slightly, but enough room for Keisuke to be partially blinded by Rin's bright smile. He wonders, for a half-second, if that's the whole story of it. But he accepts it at face value, thinking he owed that to him.
Rin's fist makes a resounding sound against his chest, deep, like a beat against a drum. He looks down to where it rests, a belated smile etching itself across his face, and he looks back to Rin. He gives a single, rough laugh.] If there's anyone who can fight against those things with just a knife, it'd be you, right? [He reaches up to tap his own knuckles against Rin's chest, knowing that, despite how thin the guy was, he was solid, tough.]
Yeah. We'll - cross that bridge when we get there.
[Knowing this place, it would be sooner than he would want. But, for now -]