[ oh crap i don’t know where i am, what street is this? which street do i take to get there, i think i missed the turn somewhere back. the food is getting cold. they’ll be so pissed. my bag’s open, i didn’t leave my bag open— where’s my wallet? someone stole it—
all his anxious thinking at the (crowded) intersection comes to a swift halt by the time a thin frame has found his way to his front. shōyō hadn’t seen it coming, so deeply troubled in all corners of his dreamscape that by the time the pressure squeezes his shoulders, he throws his eyes open and hovers his hands up in surprise. recognition came moments later, starting by the smell of hair and something subtly sweet.
his arms settle behind Lazarus and his back, and from it came a gradual squeeze, tightening into a bear’s vice. to have found someone in a time of need, certainly he wouldn’t want to let go or go limp so soon? he breathes out an airy laugh that feels ironic, or perhaps pleasantly disbelieving. it’s the first good thing he’s felt all night, because when he was awake— his joy was artificial and distorted. his deepest core knew that it wasn’t genuine, somehow: ]
—At least you found me.
[ this was. he says that with relief. hopefully, his delivery bag wasn’t in the way, and neither was the bike resting in a tilt against his hip. ]
no subject
all his anxious thinking at the (crowded) intersection comes to a swift halt by the time a thin frame has found his way to his front. shōyō hadn’t seen it coming, so deeply troubled in all corners of his dreamscape that by the time the pressure squeezes his shoulders, he throws his eyes open and hovers his hands up in surprise. recognition came moments later, starting by the smell of hair and something subtly sweet.
his arms settle behind Lazarus and his back, and from it came a gradual squeeze, tightening into a bear’s vice. to have found someone in a time of need, certainly he wouldn’t want to let go or go limp so soon? he breathes out an airy laugh that feels ironic, or perhaps pleasantly disbelieving. it’s the first good thing he’s felt all night, because when he was awake— his joy was artificial and distorted. his deepest core knew that it wasn’t genuine, somehow: ]
—At least you found me.
[ this was. he says that with relief. hopefully, his delivery bag wasn’t in the way, and neither was the bike resting in a tilt against his hip. ]