( it runs through his mind of how akira can't let him die, and yet, had komaeda never entered that room in the first place... this wouldn't have happened. it settles in his mind, making itself a home there where it doesn't move from, and his lips purse into a straight line as he removes his hand from how fragile the piece is. part of him wants to smack rokkun's fingers away from it as well, but that'd be rude to an almost dying man, especially a dying man that he's assisting with amami to lower him onto the floor.

for someone who can sew, in a sense, is right.

he settles down onto his knees, just a small distance away from rokkun and akira, and his hands rest in his lap because he doesn't know where else to put them. komaeda pauses, his eyes glancing down at rokkun's face, before drifting towards amami next, and then finally towards akira's handiwork with his blood. he takes a steady breath to bring himself back to normal, closing his eyes to settle in the darkness before he slowly opens them. )

...Everything that happens here, are we all capable enough to keep it between us?

( it might be too much to ask, but it's something sensitive. a moment of weakness, this newfound information that comes from akira's abilities, and amami being witness to it all. he doesn't know if rokkun's conscious enough to understand what's happening at the moment, and he should know better than to talk considering his position. )

This sort of hope is a rare experience, we should truly be grateful to watch it flourish in this manner.

( his words say one thing, but the way his eyes glance off to the side says another. not the best way to go about it, but komaeda does it to make sense of it, accept it. though his luck was probably the cause of what happened, it's the only thing he has to mask everything so far. )