- Tohru Adachi (Persona 4)
Previously: Cold Light - Blurred // Beyond
I have never been one to drive fast. If one is as efficient as I am, there would be no reason to rush or draw suspicion to oneself.
But I've never been sick either.
Every time I blink, I feel static in my brain zap and send flashes into my eyes. If I don't hurry home, I'm going to end up crashing into someone.
If that last trail of thought and sudden flash lasted just a second later, I would have missed a swerve and rammed the bench just outside my apartment.
I park the car and stay put in my seat for a while. I could feel sweat trickle down to my suit as my hand on the steering wheel maintains its grip.
My eyes are closed only for a minute before someone raps at my window.
Christine.
"Hey, are you okay?" She says. "You almost ran over the bench."
I roll the window down and give her the best fake smile I could muster at that moment.
"Yeah, just had a little too much to drink."
She crosses her arms, either disapproving of dui or that she didn't believe me at all.
"Being drunk is more being red than being pale and sweaty. You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm fine." I open the door to get out and wipe my head. "What about you? Why are you still here? Doesn't your shift end during the afternoon?"
"Oh ho, someone pays attention." She winks at me but her concern returns. "I had to pick up an extra to cover for Anissa. But never mind me, You look terrible!"
"I'm seriously okay." I don't give her a chance to respond and quickly scurry into my apartment. I do not have time to deal with this.
Walking straight wasn’t much of an option. I wobbled every step of the way to the elevator.
Concerned neighbors and guards offered help but I tell them I’m just having a bad night.
I practically keep my eyes shut on the way up, laying my head to the side as I wait for the ding to my floor.
Finally, I made it home.
Calling this a headache wasn’t quite right.
I wasn’t in constant pain. But the persistence is hurting my senses. I don’t think I can take any more jobs while this goes on. My phone buzzes and see that my pay has made its way to me. Normally, I would splurge on what I am currently attempting to make my hobby, prepare payments for my bills, and set aside some savings just in case.
But I think this time I just want to pass out. I wish I actually were drunk.
Another thought crosses my mind. Alcohol.
//
“That was fast” The look of excitement from Henry's face slowly vanished as he finds himself less impressed by the normal restobar I take him to. It's not like he complain since it's free booze though.
"Don't get used to it" I don't even bother hiding my annoyance and quickly grab a booth.
I don't do crowds in my personal time, but sometimes it's better to drink with someone around. Sure makes getting home easier.
I've known Henry for over 10 years in the business. I kill people, he looks away.
He's too invested in his own thing that his sense of justice is fuelled heavily by moodiness and boredom. His nonchalant attitude and no questions asked approach made it easier to rely on him than the other people in my connections. And if he's around when I get numbers up on my bank account, he's usually the first to cozy up for a drink. In a weird sort of way, I guess he's the closest thing I have to an actual friend.
A server approaches us, handing us these fancy matte black menus with gold plated linings.
I stop Henry from taking one as I was already prepared to order for both of us.
"Two buckets of Red Horse. Also, a plate of nachos and fries."
I hand the server my card and she politely leaves.
"Dude." Henry crosses his arms. "You need to cut that out. Sometimes I'd like to order those fancy cocktails, y'know?"
"So the entire menu?" I snap, suddenly flashes hitting my head again. "Can you just give me this for once?"
The server quickly returns with the beer and tells us she'd be back with the rest.
"You okay man? You're sweating like bricks." When I don't reply and knock back one bottle, he continues. "Wait, are you feeling guilty about your job today? Aren't you supposed to be some remorseless psychopath? Look, if it makes you feel any better, that kid wouldn't have survived if his family got in deep with those lunatics from Eden."
"I can kill you with a toothpick and make it look like an accident. Tread carefully." He raises his hands in defense. "It's not that and I take offense to being called a psychopath! No. It's something else."
I sigh and shut my eyes as a particularly persistent image flashes in black and white.
The same image I've forgotten. That same teenage boy in that patchy bits of my memories putting me inside that small closet I presume and blocking some guy's way.
Why now? After years of being dormant, why now? Why haunt me again when I've stopped looking and stopped caring about what my life used to be?
This painful reminder of what I failed to find. One I was happy to give up on. Why flash this cold, colorless image now?
But it doesn't stop there. No, this wasn't an image anymore.
The boy... The face that was always blurred out in my head moves aside. His face, clearer and better now.
Thin lips, hardened but worried face. Eyes that I see tones of green from.
"Taylor." He mouthed. His voice muffled and unrecognizable. But his face, clear as day.
Slowly, I heard muffled footsteps, closing in on me.
My eyes trailed to the boy. The boy who's features I captured extensively.
And in the brief moment this memory let me see him, I realized who it was.
"Patrick." The flash felt like it lasted 30 minutes but it must have only been a couple. Not very long, but long enough to alarm Henry. "I thought you were asleep."
He inches back when I snarl at him. I may not appreciate my long lost memories slowly resurfacing, but having it interrupted when I thought I could piece it together was just too much for my already fractured patience tonight.
"Geez, asshole. If you're gonna ask someone to go drinking with you, the least you can do is be fucking polite." The table pushed a little strongly as he got up, "You make me come over and get an uber, don't let me order, and snap at me for showing concern. Why should I put up with this bullshit?"
He was leaving, as one would expect from terrible company. But, and I don't know why, my hand reflexively grabbed at his wrist before he could continue to go.
"Wait... I..." My voice cracks a little.
I feel weak. I feel like a different person is asserting himself within me.
To Henry's credit, he didn't continue snapping back or let his already angered state control him. Suddenly, he places his free hand on my forehead. I was startled, but my body doesn't activate my usual, untrusting reflex of backing away right away.
"Man, are you sure you should be drinking?"
He sits back down and crosses his arms, staring at me as if to scrutinize what's in front of him.
"So what are you dealing with here?"
"I just want to drink." I say. "It's nothing."
"Enough with the Tsundere act. There's obviously something wrong and you need my help. Well, you'll be glad to know that I'm always willing to help those in need."
"Aren't you supposed to be a corrupt cop?" The server arrives with the nachos and fries and Henry takes a new menu while I'm distracted, grinning at me to say he's going to order whatever he wants.
Sure enough, this tall, fancy glass of blue liquid arrived. It even had one of those little fucking umbrellas.
He takes a sip, looking almost a little too delighted. I'm not even sure if the thing has any alcohol in it.
My options were limited. Being ill is bad enough. Not knowing what to do about it is just going to make it harder for me to take more jobs.
"Henry." He raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.
"Do you have your sketchpad?"
He continues to sip as he produces a small, leather-bound book and a pencil from his manpurse.
It has been 4 years since I last attempted to draw the boy in my memory.
Always distorted and away.
But now...
My hand swipes at the pages, memorizing the details I pieced in my mind.
Lips, short hair, hardened face, worried eyes...
The alcohol manages to dull the flashes, but it continues. Past the boy, men arrived to take me. My throat hurt, as if screaming a name.
"Wow. You're giving me a run for my money." Henry yanks the sketchbook from my hand, making me drop the pencil in surprise. "If your day job doesn't work out, the department is more than willing to get new artists. Who is he?"
"Someone... in my memory. I can't remember but he keeps showing up suddenly."
"Don't get used to it" I don't even bother hiding my annoyance and quickly grab a booth.
I don't do crowds in my personal time, but sometimes it's better to drink with someone around. Sure makes getting home easier.
I've known Henry for over 10 years in the business. I kill people, he looks away.
He's too invested in his own thing that his sense of justice is fuelled heavily by moodiness and boredom. His nonchalant attitude and no questions asked approach made it easier to rely on him than the other people in my connections. And if he's around when I get numbers up on my bank account, he's usually the first to cozy up for a drink. In a weird sort of way, I guess he's the closest thing I have to an actual friend.
A server approaches us, handing us these fancy matte black menus with gold plated linings.
I stop Henry from taking one as I was already prepared to order for both of us.
"Two buckets of Red Horse. Also, a plate of nachos and fries."
I hand the server my card and she politely leaves.
"Dude." Henry crosses his arms. "You need to cut that out. Sometimes I'd like to order those fancy cocktails, y'know?"
"So the entire menu?" I snap, suddenly flashes hitting my head again. "Can you just give me this for once?"
The server quickly returns with the beer and tells us she'd be back with the rest.
"You okay man? You're sweating like bricks." When I don't reply and knock back one bottle, he continues. "Wait, are you feeling guilty about your job today? Aren't you supposed to be some remorseless psychopath? Look, if it makes you feel any better, that kid wouldn't have survived if his family got in deep with those lunatics from Eden."
"I can kill you with a toothpick and make it look like an accident. Tread carefully." He raises his hands in defense. "It's not that and I take offense to being called a psychopath! No. It's something else."
I sigh and shut my eyes as a particularly persistent image flashes in black and white.
The same image I've forgotten. That same teenage boy in that patchy bits of my memories putting me inside that small closet I presume and blocking some guy's way.
Why now? After years of being dormant, why now? Why haunt me again when I've stopped looking and stopped caring about what my life used to be?
This painful reminder of what I failed to find. One I was happy to give up on. Why flash this cold, colorless image now?
But it doesn't stop there. No, this wasn't an image anymore.
The boy... The face that was always blurred out in my head moves aside. His face, clearer and better now.
Thin lips, hardened but worried face. Eyes that I see tones of green from.
"Taylor." He mouthed. His voice muffled and unrecognizable. But his face, clear as day.
Slowly, I heard muffled footsteps, closing in on me.
My eyes trailed to the boy. The boy who's features I captured extensively.
And in the brief moment this memory let me see him, I realized who it was.
"Patrick." The flash felt like it lasted 30 minutes but it must have only been a couple. Not very long, but long enough to alarm Henry. "I thought you were asleep."
He inches back when I snarl at him. I may not appreciate my long lost memories slowly resurfacing, but having it interrupted when I thought I could piece it together was just too much for my already fractured patience tonight.
"Geez, asshole. If you're gonna ask someone to go drinking with you, the least you can do is be fucking polite." The table pushed a little strongly as he got up, "You make me come over and get an uber, don't let me order, and snap at me for showing concern. Why should I put up with this bullshit?"
He was leaving, as one would expect from terrible company. But, and I don't know why, my hand reflexively grabbed at his wrist before he could continue to go.
"Wait... I..." My voice cracks a little.
I feel weak. I feel like a different person is asserting himself within me.
To Henry's credit, he didn't continue snapping back or let his already angered state control him. Suddenly, he places his free hand on my forehead. I was startled, but my body doesn't activate my usual, untrusting reflex of backing away right away.
"Man, are you sure you should be drinking?"
He sits back down and crosses his arms, staring at me as if to scrutinize what's in front of him.
"So what are you dealing with here?"
"I just want to drink." I say. "It's nothing."
"Enough with the Tsundere act. There's obviously something wrong and you need my help. Well, you'll be glad to know that I'm always willing to help those in need."
"Aren't you supposed to be a corrupt cop?" The server arrives with the nachos and fries and Henry takes a new menu while I'm distracted, grinning at me to say he's going to order whatever he wants.
Sure enough, this tall, fancy glass of blue liquid arrived. It even had one of those little fucking umbrellas.
He takes a sip, looking almost a little too delighted. I'm not even sure if the thing has any alcohol in it.
My options were limited. Being ill is bad enough. Not knowing what to do about it is just going to make it harder for me to take more jobs.
"Henry." He raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.
"Do you have your sketchpad?"
He continues to sip as he produces a small, leather-bound book and a pencil from his manpurse.
It has been 4 years since I last attempted to draw the boy in my memory.
Always distorted and away.
But now...
My hand swipes at the pages, memorizing the details I pieced in my mind.
Lips, short hair, hardened face, worried eyes...
The alcohol manages to dull the flashes, but it continues. Past the boy, men arrived to take me. My throat hurt, as if screaming a name.
"Wow. You're giving me a run for my money." Henry yanks the sketchbook from my hand, making me drop the pencil in surprise. "If your day job doesn't work out, the department is more than willing to get new artists. Who is he?"
"Someone... in my memory. I can't remember but he keeps showing up suddenly."
"What, you have amnesia?" He chuckles. "That's kind of cliche, don't you think?"
"Some people are nice to those who lost part of their lives, you know?"
Henry doesn't respond to the sass. His sly eyes squint, staring intently on what I managed to produce.
"I've seen this kid before." He takes another sip of his drink. "Well, no. Someone familiar is more like it."
"Who?" I say, a little more strongly then I thought I should.
"Some guy who dropped by at the station. The idiot dropped his passport. He was lucky some chick found it and dropped it off at lost and found."
I was wide awake now. It felt like the alcohol in my system was suddenly flushed out. "What's his name? What did he look like?"
"James Osmond. He had this same strong look in his face but his eyes were definitely kind like this. Though he had a buzzed head now." He smirks. "Does that ring any bells?"
"I met a man with that description earlier. But I ran away."
My head flashes again. This time to my encounter with him earlier.
The way he rapped at my window and called me Taylor echoed in my head.
"I need to ask you a favor."
He calls over a waiter. "Hi. Can we get a plate of chicken wings and another one of these blue lagoons."
"Coming right up sir."
He points to me. "Put it in his tab."
The server nods and walks off. Henry looks at me and tilts his head a little as if to tell me to continue.
"I need you to look this guy up for me. Anything in the database that can help me know and find him."
"Well maybe you shouldn't have run away." He chomps on a nacho and happily greets the plate of chicken wings that arrived. "Give me a day. I'll have it to you by tomorrow night."
//
As a professional killer, I've been trained to have a tremendous amount of tolerance towards alcohol. I must consistently have sharp senses. So to numb these and compromise myself, it would take a large amount of alcohol. 7 plus 9 bottles plus nachos and pizza plus wings equals drunk right?
"Some people are nice to those who lost part of their lives, you know?"
Henry doesn't respond to the sass. His sly eyes squint, staring intently on what I managed to produce.
"I've seen this kid before." He takes another sip of his drink. "Well, no. Someone familiar is more like it."
"Who?" I say, a little more strongly then I thought I should.
"Some guy who dropped by at the station. The idiot dropped his passport. He was lucky some chick found it and dropped it off at lost and found."
I was wide awake now. It felt like the alcohol in my system was suddenly flushed out. "What's his name? What did he look like?"
"James Osmond. He had this same strong look in his face but his eyes were definitely kind like this. Though he had a buzzed head now." He smirks. "Does that ring any bells?"
"I met a man with that description earlier. But I ran away."
My head flashes again. This time to my encounter with him earlier.
The way he rapped at my window and called me Taylor echoed in my head.
"I need to ask you a favor."
He calls over a waiter. "Hi. Can we get a plate of chicken wings and another one of these blue lagoons."
"Coming right up sir."
He points to me. "Put it in his tab."
The server nods and walks off. Henry looks at me and tilts his head a little as if to tell me to continue.
"I need you to look this guy up for me. Anything in the database that can help me know and find him."
"Well maybe you shouldn't have run away." He chomps on a nacho and happily greets the plate of chicken wings that arrived. "Give me a day. I'll have it to you by tomorrow night."
//
As a professional killer, I've been trained to have a tremendous amount of tolerance towards alcohol. I must consistently have sharp senses. So to numb these and compromise myself, it would take a large amount of alcohol. 7 plus 9 bottles plus nachos and pizza plus wings equals drunk right?
Ever felt so light and heavy at the same time? That's what it feels like.
But I don't feel these flashes that's making me go epileptic and that's fine by me. But woah it's so tunnely. What's with these borders around my eyes?
"Uh, buddy? I think you should let me take you--"
I need to pee.
"I know, buddy. But maybe not on that lamp."
This is a lamp?
"Yes, Patrick. That's a lamp." I barely feel him pull me towards my apartment.
"Hi Mister Doorman ." He gives me a little wave and smiles.
"Sorry. He's drunk."
So worth it.
"Is it?" He says. Have I been saying these out lout?
"Yes, you idiot."
Ding! It's the elevator!
"You know, you're kind of cute drunk. Like a little kid in Disneyland."
Man, now it feels heavy everywhere. It's like we're being pulled down.
"Hey. hey." Henry pulls me up from the evil floor.
"We're almost there."
I feel him grope at my body and I can't help but feel emasculated.
"Where are your stupid keys?"
"Guess." I grin.
He sighs, playing hard to get and reaches for me but I'm a ninja, doesn't he know?
"Give it-- Give it to me. Don't make me put you in a headlock!"
"Kinky."
He checks my coat pockets and my keys betray me :(
The door opens and Henry takes me in to my apartment.
Clean as ever, just as I like it.
Because a clean apartment makes Patrick happy :)
"It's too late and we're both drunk so I'm staying the night. "
"M'kay." I shove him to the wall and grabs his face.
"Whoa, what the hell are you doing?"
His lips tastes like cheese and his tongue like pico de gallo.
Henry pushes me back and I can feel my ass hit the floor.
"What the fuck was that?"
"Don't worry, I've done both ways." I smile at his scared blue eyes. "Gotta be able to do stuff when you kill after all."
Detective Henry's hand is in my face and he's pushing me. He's mean.
"I appreciate the offer, but I don't swing that way."
"But you called me cute." Now I'm sad.
He sighs again and pulls me in. But only for a short hug.
"There, there buddy. As much as I like drunk.. and horny Patrick, I'd rather not experiment tonight. We'll talk when your sound judgment is back."
That's boring.
"Oh." I look down.
"What is it?" He asks.
"I need to pee."
//
Taylor, did you eat all the pie again?
No.
I told you to leave some for me! You know how long it takes Dad to bake those.
I'm sorry.
Look buddy, I know how much you like them but you need to learn how to share. And eating a whole pie isn't healthy.
But I was hungry.
Next time, I'll buy you two burgers. How does that sound?
But what about Mom?
Fuck Mom. She doesn't have to know.
I'm scared. Why won't Dad just fight back?
But I don't feel these flashes that's making me go epileptic and that's fine by me. But woah it's so tunnely. What's with these borders around my eyes?
"Uh, buddy? I think you should let me take you--"
I need to pee.
"I know, buddy. But maybe not on that lamp."
This is a lamp?
"Yes, Patrick. That's a lamp." I barely feel him pull me towards my apartment.
"Hi Mister Doorman ." He gives me a little wave and smiles.
"Sorry. He's drunk."
So worth it.
"Is it?" He says. Have I been saying these out lout?
"Yes, you idiot."
Ding! It's the elevator!
"You know, you're kind of cute drunk. Like a little kid in Disneyland."
Man, now it feels heavy everywhere. It's like we're being pulled down.
"Hey. hey." Henry pulls me up from the evil floor.
"We're almost there."
I feel him grope at my body and I can't help but feel emasculated.
"Where are your stupid keys?"
"Guess." I grin.
He sighs, playing hard to get and reaches for me but I'm a ninja, doesn't he know?
"Give it-- Give it to me. Don't make me put you in a headlock!"
"Kinky."
He checks my coat pockets and my keys betray me :(
The door opens and Henry takes me in to my apartment.
Clean as ever, just as I like it.
Because a clean apartment makes Patrick happy :)
"It's too late and we're both drunk so I'm staying the night. "
"M'kay." I shove him to the wall and grabs his face.
"Whoa, what the hell are you doing?"
His lips tastes like cheese and his tongue like pico de gallo.
Henry pushes me back and I can feel my ass hit the floor.
"What the fuck was that?"
"Don't worry, I've done both ways." I smile at his scared blue eyes. "Gotta be able to do stuff when you kill after all."
Detective Henry's hand is in my face and he's pushing me. He's mean.
"I appreciate the offer, but I don't swing that way."
"But you called me cute." Now I'm sad.
He sighs again and pulls me in. But only for a short hug.
"There, there buddy. As much as I like drunk.. and horny Patrick, I'd rather not experiment tonight. We'll talk when your sound judgment is back."
That's boring.
"Oh." I look down.
"What is it?" He asks.
"I need to pee."
//
Taylor, did you eat all the pie again?
No.
I told you to leave some for me! You know how long it takes Dad to bake those.
I'm sorry.
Look buddy, I know how much you like them but you need to learn how to share. And eating a whole pie isn't healthy.
But I was hungry.
Next time, I'll buy you two burgers. How does that sound?
But what about Mom?
Fuck Mom. She doesn't have to know.
I'm scared. Why won't Dad just fight back?
Because she's a girl, buddy. If Dad hits Mom, he'll get arrested. Do you want to lose Dad?
Then why can't we leave?
If we leave, Mom will threaten Dad and find us. It'll make things so much harder for us.
Why can't we call the police?
The police won't believe Dad. They'll believe Mom. And even if they do believe us, she'll probably only get a light sentence.
Then what can we do?
I don't know, Buddy.
//
Calling whatever this is a hangover was an understatement.
My head was splitting open and I could feel my stomach churned.
And perhaps for the first time in years, I felt tears in my eyes.
And fear.
Whatever that dream was, it was definitely a memory I've long forgotten. A life taken away.
James Osmond... Was he my brother?
And if this was really a memory, did I really have such a terrible life that I decided to erase everything?
The flashes of my memories become violent and I keel over in my bed.
I'll take care of you buddy.
Don't hurt the kids.
You pieces of shit don't know how hard my life was.
One day...
The flashes aren't consistent anymore. Images of my memories zip by like powerpoint slides. James Osmond. A blurred man with pie. A blurred woman holding a chair. The room James Osmond put me in. And suddenly, the flashes stopped. The voices vanish and all I hear is the city life bustling outside my window.
"Awake are you?" Henry stood at my doorframe, fully dressed in my clothes. Maybe even a little overdressed with my coat over my vest over my button up.
"What's with the getup?" I get up, realizing that I have been clothed in house wear despite not remembering changing at all. Rather, I don't really remember anything after getting on the Uber home.
"Where'd you put my clothes?" I say, getting up from my bed.
"You puked on them so I put them in the washing machine." Henry crosses his arms and smirks. "Gotta say bro, could used to living like this. Maybe I should add extra to my fee and be your roommate"
"Don't call me bro. And don't push your luck."
"Worth a try."
"Why'd you do that?" He looks at me, confused. "Change my clothes and put em in the washing machine, I mean."
Henry raises a brow, still dumbfounded by own confusion. "Because we're friends. It's the polite thing to do. And I wasn't about to let you sleep covered in puke. That's just gross."
My first reaction would have been to tell him we weren't friends at all. But I say nothing. I don't know why. Friends?
He leaves and comes back with a glass of water and hands it to me.
I say nothing again, drinking the glass empty.
Flashes aside, I've still got a hangover to deal with.
"I'm going to get some coffee. " I stand, walking to the door and he backs slightly away from me. His face looking slightly red. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" He stammers. "Just, I got some earlier and I need to get to the station."
I stare at him, trying to figure out what that reaction was from.
"I'll give you a call when I get the file, alright? See you later."
He bolts before I can say anything else.
Weirdo.
Then why can't we leave?
If we leave, Mom will threaten Dad and find us. It'll make things so much harder for us.
Why can't we call the police?
The police won't believe Dad. They'll believe Mom. And even if they do believe us, she'll probably only get a light sentence.
Then what can we do?
I don't know, Buddy.
//
Calling whatever this is a hangover was an understatement.
My head was splitting open and I could feel my stomach churned.
And perhaps for the first time in years, I felt tears in my eyes.
And fear.
Whatever that dream was, it was definitely a memory I've long forgotten. A life taken away.
James Osmond... Was he my brother?
And if this was really a memory, did I really have such a terrible life that I decided to erase everything?
The flashes of my memories become violent and I keel over in my bed.
I'll take care of you buddy.
Don't hurt the kids.
You pieces of shit don't know how hard my life was.
One day...
The flashes aren't consistent anymore. Images of my memories zip by like powerpoint slides. James Osmond. A blurred man with pie. A blurred woman holding a chair. The room James Osmond put me in. And suddenly, the flashes stopped. The voices vanish and all I hear is the city life bustling outside my window.
"Awake are you?" Henry stood at my doorframe, fully dressed in my clothes. Maybe even a little overdressed with my coat over my vest over my button up.
"What's with the getup?" I get up, realizing that I have been clothed in house wear despite not remembering changing at all. Rather, I don't really remember anything after getting on the Uber home.
"Where'd you put my clothes?" I say, getting up from my bed.
"You puked on them so I put them in the washing machine." Henry crosses his arms and smirks. "Gotta say bro, could used to living like this. Maybe I should add extra to my fee and be your roommate"
"Don't call me bro. And don't push your luck."
"Worth a try."
"Why'd you do that?" He looks at me, confused. "Change my clothes and put em in the washing machine, I mean."
Henry raises a brow, still dumbfounded by own confusion. "Because we're friends. It's the polite thing to do. And I wasn't about to let you sleep covered in puke. That's just gross."
My first reaction would have been to tell him we weren't friends at all. But I say nothing. I don't know why. Friends?
He leaves and comes back with a glass of water and hands it to me.
I say nothing again, drinking the glass empty.
Flashes aside, I've still got a hangover to deal with.
"I'm going to get some coffee. " I stand, walking to the door and he backs slightly away from me. His face looking slightly red. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" He stammers. "Just, I got some earlier and I need to get to the station."
I stare at him, trying to figure out what that reaction was from.
"I'll give you a call when I get the file, alright? See you later."
He bolts before I can say anything else.
Weirdo.
Continue to the last chapter: Salvation's Light - Realty // Eyes
Authors Notes:
The Monochrome Abyss storyline was meant to end in this chapter. But the progression took too long to get points across and thus I had to extend the story by one chapter. In doing so, I had to move around quotes in each chapter and change the titles, which messed with my original title ideas and idea of giving opening quotes to three Persona-user villains counting down from 5 to 3. I have not played the 2 duology, but, research and stock knowledge aside, know that I can't quote a villain persona user from there(Though quoting Hitler would have been hilarious). And while I HAVE played Persona 1, I don't think it's fair to skip on 2 just because I can't quote anyone from there. So I'd rather just do 5R-5-4-3. (In hindsight, Kandori DOES appear in 2, but yeah I didn't think that far ahead when I was redoing the quotes anyway)
-ThanosVenge
Authors Notes:
The Monochrome Abyss storyline was meant to end in this chapter. But the progression took too long to get points across and thus I had to extend the story by one chapter. In doing so, I had to move around quotes in each chapter and change the titles, which messed with my original title ideas and idea of giving opening quotes to three Persona-user villains counting down from 5 to 3. I have not played the 2 duology, but, research and stock knowledge aside, know that I can't quote a villain persona user from there(Though quoting Hitler would have been hilarious). And while I HAVE played Persona 1, I don't think it's fair to skip on 2 just because I can't quote anyone from there. So I'd rather just do 5R-5-4-3. (In hindsight, Kandori DOES appear in 2, but yeah I didn't think that far ahead when I was redoing the quotes anyway)
-ThanosVenge
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