Gunpoint Kiss- The Roleplay Before the Writing

Setsuko did not seem to react to his unconventional response. It was as if the girl totally ignored him, or if she was totally used to it all by now. She held the items even closer to her bosom; she was true to her word as well, as she walked faster. It was not enough to be beside him, but she was closer.

She stopped when he did, and took the bread out of the white box. The girl was not particularly hungry, but she took a few bites just for something to do. Her eyes became downcast after a while, and she did not even bother putting the bread back.

“You okay?”

"Why?" He snapped, a rather unusually reflexive answer considering it was a spoken one. A scowl crossed his face as he zipped his bag back up. But he remained leaning against the tree, only barely turning to glance toward his companion.

“Never you mind.” She said.

Setsuko finally placed the bread back and remained standing. She was as still as a statue, save for the occasional flutter of her skirt. She shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“You look tired.”

He scowled at her answer, as if it had left a bad taste in his mouth. No sooner had Kazuo rested his head against the tree then, that she spoke up again. He rolled his eyes lazily. He didn't feel tired. Just somewhat... fatigued. But it was nothing that could be fixed now, and he knew it would pass once some action kicked up again.

Her frown became more pronounced when he rolled his eyes. Yet, Setsuko also started to widen the span of her arms, as if she was going to invite him in for an embrace. But they stopped before they could really leave her sides. Dead in their movements, as if they remembered an unpleasant memory. They snaked and curled around her body, as if to comfort their owner.

“It’s almost over, isn’t it?” She looked at him.

The growing tension in the air had not gone unnoticed by the girl. It did not just come from Kazuo, but it was like the island itself was scared of something.

After all, everyone would have to emerge at some point.

He tilted his head somewhat, face growing thoughtful. He didn't look at his companion, though. "... Six kids... Over 24 hours," he answered nonchalantly. Kazuo didn't sound concerned. A hand reached into his hair to scratch his head, then taking a moment to tousle his hair. His other arm crossed over his chest. He had rather feminine posture leaning against the tree; a significant curve in his spine led to a very contrapposto position of his slender frame and hips.

Setsuko nodded her head after he finished speaking. At least she had another day. She slowly looked over at him, flinching a little when her jaw met her shoulder suddenly. Her eyes lingered on Kazuo, until she caught herself and looked away. She looked down, as if she was examining herself, and then looked back at him. For a moment, she wondered if there was anything about her body that would please him, but it slipped her mind and she shook her head. There was nothing, and she knew that it would stay that way. But she felt better seconds later; at least she could admire him.

“Did you really mean it? That we wouldn’t be seeing each other again? That you wouldn’t want to?” Her tone was somewhat solemn.

"Of course I fucking meant it," he murmured, scowling faintly and finally shifting away from the tree. He adjusted his bag and Uzi straps on his shoulder; it seemed like toting the weight on one shoulder for two days may have been wearing on him. But he started to trudge on. With six kids left, he figured he wouldn't need to lug his supplies around too much longer - maybe not even the whole 24 hours or so, if the game finished earlier.

Kazuo realized he would miss the submachine gun, though.

It took a few moments after his answer for Setsuko’s eyes to become troubled. Slowly, they progressed to pain, and then an eerie coldness.

“We did all of those things, and it meant nothing to you?” The girl’s voice was quiet. “Absolutely nothing?”

The girl slowly lowered her head and she leaned against one of the trees, not caring that the hard bark was digging into the softer skin of her face.

She shut her eyes and lowered her head. Distressed mewls started to escape her lips, but her tongue tried to push them back into her throat. Her arms held herself tighter, clutching at the dress deeper and deeper until she pinched her own skin.

He didn't answer, walking on - but stopped after some distance when he noticed she wasn't following. He glanced back over his shoulder for his companion, scowling before striding briskly back for her. But he came to a sudden stop a few feet before reaching her once he heard her small cries. A disconcerted look crossed his features. "... Stop," he said impatiently, though his voice was as quiet as usual. He appeared to grimace somewhat when a great discomfort started to build in his chest. Kazuo grasped at the front of his shirt consciously at the feeling, face troubled. "Stop it..." He insisted again. The ache in his chest was her fault. It had kicked in the last time he had seen her crying, too. She had to stop.

“Stop?” She looked at him incredulously, tears streaming down her face. “How can I stop?! I gave myself to you and you thought nothing of it.”

Setsuko leaned against the tree, so tight as if the ground below had crumbled into Hell. But she eventually slid down onto the mossy tree roots. She didn’t feel the small cut on her cheekbone that a small, jutting branch left on her way down, but it bled nonetheless. Her hands rose and clutched at the messy dark silk that crowned her head. Her fingers pulled and pulled, like she was forming a curtain that would shield her face.

The girl’s mewling had stopped, due to the increasing pressure on her scalp. But it did not stop the tears from sliding off the tip of her nose onto the grass.

Kazuo's face grew all the more disturbed, and he stepped back as if Setsuko had a collar on that was beeping and threatening to explode. Her talking made his chest hurt, too, and he continued to clutch at it.

"... Wh.. Why does it matter?" He began tentatively. It seemed he was using his voice enough that it started to grow hoarse, no matter how quiet its volume. "It felt good, right..?" He studied her face before her hair fell over it, eyeing the blood on her cheek. His troubled expression persisted, a blend of loathing, confusion, and nervousness.

That was largely the extent of Kazuo's rationale. If something felt good, if it was fun, if it made him happy, it was something to strive to do or to make happen again. He wasn't sure sex was something that was fun or made him happy... But it felt good, good enough that he had gone through with it more than once despite possible consequences - such as those he was facing now. Sex had always seemed not worth the trouble to him because of the emotional attachment involved, even if only one-sided; now he was forced to gauge if it really was worth it or not. And he felt very uncertain - very out of his element.

She stirred when he spoke to her, and clawed her hair over her features until Setsuko cursed and gave up. Her hair wasn’t a beautiful, long sheet that could cover her face anymore. She would have to look at him fully. Her head drifted up to look at him as his words remained ringing in her ears.

“Why does it matter?” She repeated; a bitter smile pulled at her lips amongst the mess of tears. “Call me crazy all you want, but that won’t change that it meant something to me...” Setsuko’s voice trailed off, but she still looked at him, as if she could see right through him.

As if the girl suddenly realized that he was there, her eyes became focused.

“It felt...Heavenly, Kazuo-kun. But it’s not just about how nice it feels.” She hiccupped and lowered her head to hide the tears that continued to fall.

Even if it was still unclear, Setsuko speculated that everything that they had done was not important to him. The thoughts snaked around her neck like a noose and began to strangle her. Her hands were already becoming as cold as a cadaver. She started to shiver, and she felt truly alone.

His face turned somewhat sour at her reply. Even more so at the adjective applied to their intimacy. He didn't like the idea he had made someone feel heavenly. Kazuo Kiriyama did things for his own benefit - never for the benefit of others. And her adding an affectionate honorific to his name still irked him also...

He stared at his companion as her head dropped and she kept crying. His chest hurt. He had the feeling it would keep hurting even if he walked away, so long as he couldn't be sure she had stopped crying.

She started shivering after a minute. Kazuo's arms crossed tightly over his chest. "Stop it..." He murmured again, barely above a whisper, as if more to himself than anyone. His feet shifted indecisively, at first as if to move toward Setsuko but then stopping themselves, back and forth a few times. He wanted to kick her. He wanted to kick her until she stopped; but he didn't think that would work. He didn't think that would make his chest stop hurting, either.

Setsuko barely heard his murmur, but that did not stop her. At least the sobbing noises had died down. Her tears fell at a slower rate, as if the water within her was drying. So much so, that her eyes and neck burned.

Even though her eyes were now lowered and his arms were crossed, she noticed that her companion’s hand had clutched at his chest earlier. She wondered if it was hurting. When she heard shuffling, she pushed away from the tree and grabbed the green grass and moss, not really caring that her hands were becoming lined with dirt.

“Why should I stop?” She looked up at him. No more tears crept down from her eyes. “Why? I thought that you liked seeing me hurt.”

His hand still grasped at his chest, which ached all the more as Setsuko looked up at him. But his throat ran dry then. His lips felt like they were stuck together with glue, and he found he couldn't part them to even try giving an answer. His stomach churned enough that he thought he might get sick. Anxiety, mixed with fear, became the dominant expression in the boy's face.

His lips frozen shut, Kazuo nodded hastily in answer, brows furrowing in a futile attempt to regain a scowl. It was clear he wanted to look certain - but no such certainty showed in his eyes. However, it seemed that was as much as he could offer for answer at the moment.

The slow, yet sudden change that swept over Kazuo’s features was not unheeded by Setsuko. In fact, her eyes became sharper and more focused, not unlike a falcon’s. Despite this, they still stung and fear and hurt showed through the somewhat contorted muscles of her face. The girl felt some degree of pity for her companion, yet a good feeling slowly seeped into the fray. It was satisfaction. But she shuddered. It was morbid to feel that way, now.

As long as he knew how it felt to be her, now.

Her chest stirred and she barely recoiled when he nodded, yet her changed eyes looked up at him and she shook her head rapidly in disagreement.

“Then why do you look so ill?” Setsuko hiccuped.

Because I feel ill, you stupid bitch. But his lips still wouldn't move. His arms coiling around himself, Kazuo shook his head with a deeply disconcerted expression, insistently enough that he could have been saying he didn't know just as much as he didn't want to answer at all.

His dark eyes started to wander nervously. He didn't like the way Setsuko was looking at him.

Setsuko’s eyes softened when her companion shook his head again. One of her hands released its hold on the earth to brush a few strands of her bangs away from her eyes. She slowly rose, not really paying mind to the sudden chill of the air against the back of her legs, or the dampness from the dew that caused her skirt to cling to the skin lightly.

She frowned when she noticed that he was not looking at her. Even though she understood his reasons almost perfectly well, she still grew irritated; it was as if he was looking away from her because she had something stuck on her face. Her eyes, which lost most of their sharpness, swept over his frame as if she was searching for something.
With one foot carefully stepping in front of the other, she slowly made her way towards him, as if she was approaching a wild animal.

As if she was not thinking at all, her arms slowly lifted as if they were being controlled by a puppeteer. Each step passed, and they rose until she was close to him. Setsuko put her hand over his, her pale fingers idly stroked the translucent skin on his knuckles. Without any hesitation, she rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes, which had become red with irritation and shyly kissed the tops of his fingers left exposed in their clutch.

He glanced up, alert, when his companion started tentatively stepping closer. His face was vaguely fearful, torn between anxiety and hatred, but he didn't move - nor did he flinch when Setsuko finally reached him, even as her skin brushed his and she leaned into him. He felt his stomach stir violently again, and there remained an unpleasant pressure in his chest. It almost seemed like his companion's embrace just made the feeling worse.

Kazuo squirmed a little, but only to pull his arm free to let his bag drop to the ground - though he stopped his Uzi before it followed. His head reluctantly slumped forward so his nose rested into Setsuko's hair, his breath rousing its dark strands rhythmically. Discomfort clung to his features, but his breathing was calm, his eyes bitter and weary as if with defeat.

She almost pulled away when he shifted, but remained and heaved a sigh when she noticed the bag drop to the ground. Without his hand to hold onto, she pinched his white shirt lightly between her fingers. Setsuko stood absolutely still, looking statuesque except for the subtle rise and fall of her chest. The stillness was disturbed when she felt something warm at the crown of her head. It was breath, as hot as a wolf's that was closing in on an unsuspecting lamb.

Her voice did not dare break its latency from within her throat, and she shivered as Kazuo’s breathing disturbed her hair. She wanted nothing more than to hold him closer and kiss him, but a strange bitterness entered her heart when she remembered how scared he was the last time. Instead, Setsuko inched towards him, resting her forehead against his chest harder. His scent comforted her as usual, and she started to feel well.

Kazuo tensed somewhat when the girl leaned closer, but remained still. She had stopped crying, and stopped talking, and somehow her nearness seemed to help quiet the pain in his chest... though his stomach still felt rather uneasy. Yet Setsuko was warm, and her warmth spread to him as she pressed close, until he felt a pang of heat in his groin.

He shifted suddenly as if to move away, but froze, his breathing growing heavier against her hair so he took in her scent. There was no odor in particular, yet something about the scent drew him in dazedly. His hands drifted for Setsuko's waist, pulling her close for some sense of pressure to relieve his hungry frame while he used the grip to gently direct her until her back was to a tree. His nose sifted through her hair purposefully as if hunting for something, his breath heady as he pressed her against the trunk of the tree behind her. The boy's face had finally gone calm, dark eyes hazy.

A small, soft sound was pulled from her lips when she felt a sudden grip at her waist. She was simultaneously pulled closer and pushed back, until she could feel the tree pressed against the curves of her spine. Yet he was closer than ever. Setsuko could feel him traveling over her scalp, the hotness of his breath made her shiver.

The pressure on her back became harder, and she felt familiar warmth push down from her stomach towards the apex between her thighs. She groaned softly at the tingling sensations and breathed in. Her hips shifted subtly, as if what they carried between them was craving to be sated. Setsuko needed him, and she felt that need weigh on her chest like a stone painfully.

With some hesitation, her fingers crept up to rest on his shoulders, but she held him only lightly, as his previous reaction was fresh in her mind. However, she gently and slowly held him closer as she reveled in his warmth.

Gradually, the nuzzling through Setsuko's hair moved into kissing down her throat - toward the back of it, where it wasn't quite so battered from his previous affections. His kisses were gentle at first, but as the warmth of her skin met his lips, his teeth slipped free to nip more hungrily. His body pressed against hers with increasing urgency, the grip of his hands at his companion's hips growing firmer and pulling her against him.

Once she felt his direction move towards a steadier destination, she let out a very shaky sigh and tilted her head to the side. Even though her skin had experienced his lips before, she still moaned at the soft kisses that were so close to the beginnings of her spine. Setsuko felt a familiar weakness pooling into her knees as his kisses turned into pinching bites.

She could feel his hands on her hips, so close to where she needed his touch. Her embrace became more confident and tight, and her hips started to move forward and back with a strange, almost seductive grace. These sways caused their clothes bodies to meet, and more heat caused her core to tingle. Her hands traveled to the front of his blazer around his shoulder, and clutched the openings of its collar. Setsuko started to pull on them desperately, as if she didn’t have the patience to feel wait for his flesh to meet hers.