[ yes. he could get kicked out. he could get hurt. he didn’t seem to care enough to want to wake up— it was the first time in many days where he’s finally been able to sleep, when he’s finally seen someone dear to him and finally wasn’t bouncing off the walls to the point that it exhausted his very soul. the more he listens, though, the more shōyō goes abruptly quiet, and that silence stretches as his fingers tighten into a curl in his palms, right around the handles of his bike. when he does break the silence, beyond his sneakers cracking over pebbles and pavement: ]
That’s not going to change anything.
[ it’s strained, tight. he feels the hotness begin to build beneath his eyelids. he feels anger and loneliness and irritation and— god damn does he feel a sad longing. his words escalate in volume, in emphasis: ]
They’re still dead, or squids, you’re still gone, and I’m—
[ he sucks in a breath, but a quiet gust blows his hair back toward the empty intersection he had found himself in: alone.
but that’s too selfish to say right now, isn’t it? his next and last word comes soft spoken and cracked: ]
no subject
That’s not going to change anything.
[ it’s strained, tight. he feels the hotness begin to build beneath his eyelids. he feels anger and loneliness and irritation and— god damn does he feel a sad longing. his words escalate in volume, in emphasis: ]
They’re still dead, or squids, you’re still gone, and I’m—
[ he sucks in a breath, but a quiet gust blows his hair back toward the empty intersection he had found himself in: alone.
but that’s too selfish to say right now, isn’t it? his next and last word comes soft spoken and cracked: ]
—Here.