004 [OPEN TO ALL]
Mitsuru's been passing by her door lately, like an adult past an old childhood home.
It started unconciously, just walking by the rows of doors on her trips to and from the store. Over time her trips become less necessary, the excuses weak and watered down, until she stops bothering to justify her behaviour and settles for 'curiosity'. Each of the doors are individual in their own subtle ways, and she begins hoping weakly for a sign of her home.
The sound of Koromaru's excited barks on the other side of the doorway, the scent of Iori's weekly worn socks and sneakers stinking up the lounge. Akihiko's excited incoherent whoops and phrases and the irregular thump thump of his fists into his boxing bag upstairs, Aigis' motor oil request written on the 'Necessities' list in the kitchen. Takeba's laughter seated before her favourite nightly television show and Arisato's silent yet hectic expressions as he lives through a world of hallucinations beside her.
And then there are the Enhancers.
Four weeks have passed, but her craving has not. Never will, she suspects. An empty haunting in the pits of her muddled brain, like a stomach growling and yearning for food. Instead of a tongue awaiting the first fresh burst of fruit, her mind and body cry for the mindblowing embrace of Enhancers.
Only in the dead of the night does Mitsuru finally let go of the aching pain of restraint, thrashing until the blankets and sheets are a tangled mess around her limbs- she won't be able to jump out of bed an hour later that way, picking through the fibers of the rug beside her bed or emptying all bottled products, constantly hoping against hope for the clang of a pill against the sink. When it doesn't come, her dorm room suddenly feels darker.
She doesn't need to think about the disappointment, for it throbs like a raw wound. Nor does she have to cry, for pain is familiar enough that she knows not to rely on sorrow to rid her of pain. She simply rolls back into bed, and dreams of Thanatos carefully removing Enhancers from her mouth.
It's these weeks of dull habits and rituals that bring Mitsuru back out to the doors at the strike of midnight, cloaked completely in darkness if not for her eye-catching red hair. Has she really quit, or just run out of a supplier?
It started unconciously, just walking by the rows of doors on her trips to and from the store. Over time her trips become less necessary, the excuses weak and watered down, until she stops bothering to justify her behaviour and settles for 'curiosity'. Each of the doors are individual in their own subtle ways, and she begins hoping weakly for a sign of her home.
The sound of Koromaru's excited barks on the other side of the doorway, the scent of Iori's weekly worn socks and sneakers stinking up the lounge. Akihiko's excited incoherent whoops and phrases and the irregular thump thump of his fists into his boxing bag upstairs, Aigis' motor oil request written on the 'Necessities' list in the kitchen. Takeba's laughter seated before her favourite nightly television show and Arisato's silent yet hectic expressions as he lives through a world of hallucinations beside her.
And then there are the Enhancers.
Four weeks have passed, but her craving has not. Never will, she suspects. An empty haunting in the pits of her muddled brain, like a stomach growling and yearning for food. Instead of a tongue awaiting the first fresh burst of fruit, her mind and body cry for the mindblowing embrace of Enhancers.
Only in the dead of the night does Mitsuru finally let go of the aching pain of restraint, thrashing until the blankets and sheets are a tangled mess around her limbs- she won't be able to jump out of bed an hour later that way, picking through the fibers of the rug beside her bed or emptying all bottled products, constantly hoping against hope for the clang of a pill against the sink. When it doesn't come, her dorm room suddenly feels darker.
She doesn't need to think about the disappointment, for it throbs like a raw wound. Nor does she have to cry, for pain is familiar enough that she knows not to rely on sorrow to rid her of pain. She simply rolls back into bed, and dreams of Thanatos carefully removing Enhancers from her mouth.
It's these weeks of dull habits and rituals that bring Mitsuru back out to the doors at the strike of midnight, cloaked completely in darkness if not for her eye-catching red hair. Has she really quit, or just run out of a supplier?