[ more than a thousand things fling through his head when the second of a lifetime hardly makes it past being a second. the fire in his chest swells one moment and is put out with a bucket of cold water the next. the riveting moxie that came from the thrill is cut short by rejection. lazarus turns away, removes a step, and from there the shock in shōyō’s eyes only retaliates once his gears begin to turn again.
his fingers slip away from the other’s, and he could feel a nauseating knot lump his throat and make his face go wine colored. what happened? what did he do wrong? did he completely misread the situation? was that really the wrong move to make? did he blow it? was he getting led on? was he—
there’re too many questions and too much awkwardness to face now. above a rejection, he’s possibly lost a friend now, too. was that a risk worth taking? he couldn’t have known, and neither could shōyō had predicted something entirely rational when he ran on pure emotion. what felt right. it felt right, but the response didn’t hold the same sentiment.
embarrassed, above all, shōyō runs a hand down his face and holds just a bit to his mouth, where his lips still felt the lingering phantom touch that he knows he won’t be feeling again soon. augh, damn it. he’s so stupid. he’s so nervous. his gut hurts. it churns in a way that tells him he’s going to feel sick, the same way he did when he saw a damn corpse for the first time. ]
Um, [ dry and cracked, his voice was, but he hangs there; shoves his hands in his pockets and rolls his balance to the base of both heels. ] okay.
[ he didn’t know what else to say, but was at least preparing to make his leave. ]
no subject
his fingers slip away from the other’s, and he could feel a nauseating knot lump his throat and make his face go wine colored. what happened? what did he do wrong? did he completely misread the situation? was that really the wrong move to make? did he blow it? was he getting led on? was he—
there’re too many questions and too much awkwardness to face now. above a rejection, he’s possibly lost a friend now, too. was that a risk worth taking? he couldn’t have known, and neither could shōyō had predicted something entirely rational when he ran on pure emotion. what felt right. it felt right, but the response didn’t hold the same sentiment.
embarrassed, above all, shōyō runs a hand down his face and holds just a bit to his mouth, where his lips still felt the lingering phantom touch that he knows he won’t be feeling again soon. augh, damn it. he’s so stupid. he’s so nervous. his gut hurts. it churns in a way that tells him he’s going to feel sick, the same way he did when he saw a damn corpse for the first time. ]
Um, [ dry and cracked, his voice was, but he hangs there; shoves his hands in his pockets and rolls his balance to the base of both heels. ] okay.
[ he didn’t know what else to say, but was at least preparing to make his leave. ]
Sorry.