[He sits and stares at the mess on his own stomach, squinting as he notes how the sheets are all crinkled and messy from the night before. It's here and now that he comes to a bizarre realization- There is no guilt.
He doesn't feel guilty, and in this kind of place... Is this the first time?
To the outside world he appears to harbor no shame for his filthy sort of frolicking, and while he may believe that the act itself isn't all that dirty (at least, not in the metaphorical sense), he often frequents these hotels in the company of pretty but paid strangers.
What a bizarre kind of intimacy, straddling the lines between real and real phony, not entirely terrible but toxic in the way he's let it affect himself.
Zura cares about him, Sakamoto knows. Why else would he be willing to do something that was so unclean?]
no subject
He doesn't feel guilty, and in this kind of place... Is this the first time?
To the outside world he appears to harbor no shame for his filthy sort of frolicking, and while he may believe that the act itself isn't all that dirty (at least, not in the metaphorical sense), he often frequents these hotels in the company of pretty but paid strangers.
What a bizarre kind of intimacy, straddling the lines between real and real phony, not entirely terrible but toxic in the way he's let it affect himself.
Zura cares about him, Sakamoto knows. Why else would he be willing to do something that was so unclean?]