MANJIRO SANO
𑣲 | playing pretend.
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the vending machine flickers under a dying light. an annoyed sound escapes your lips as your thumb presses the drink of your choice again.
dammit,you mutter as the machine mocks you, humming and giving nothing.
move.he always manages to startle you. god, can he stop doing that?, you think as you step aside. mikey strikes his palm against the side of the vending machine, a sharp hit; metal rattles and your drink drops.
violent much?you say as you kneel to pick up the cold, canned beverage. mikey doesn't answer as he watches you stand back up to your full height. you lean against the concrete wall, inserting your index finger under the pull tab and cracking the can open. you bring the opening to your mouth, tasting the sugary goodness run down your throat. and without thinking, you hold out your can. mikey stares at the offering and for once, his black eyes finally hold some sort of light in them. his fingers brush yours as he takes a sip of your choice of drink.
eugh,he sticks out his tongue after and complains,
spicy.
spicy? it's carbonated.
tastes like shit,mikey points out and you can feel your eye twitch.
shut up, dickhead,you grumble, disheartened that he doesn't like what you like, and snatch back your canned good. mikey rolls his eyes and mocks you under his breath. and that's when it hits him. he wishes he could forget that he was the leader of bonten. to be able to be blissfully ignorant should be a dream. but mikey stopped having dreams. he doesn't sleep. but lately, even though he doesn't dream, he's been getting more than one good night's rest. and that is your purpose for being a bonten executive. not because you were the most loyal, the best fighter, or the smartest. but because you give him a few stolen seconds, that he's able to feel human again.