[ why, pal, you shouldn’t have. the crackling of a package coming undone and unfolded is the one thing that sings the loudest first; following afterward, was shōyō’s palpable enthusiasm even with one’s eyes (very many eyes) are kept shut. ]
Awesome— [ the story or the jersey? anyway— his voice goes low and takes an attempt at dramatics. ] So, I was stuck in a bear trap by the foot, all the way up there, just gotten my ass beat with a baseball bat . . .
[ gentle fphwp fphws, clearly he’s gesturing, and the fabric he’s holding waves in suit. ]
And this guy finds me hanging around, and, you know? I wanted to deck ‘em ‘cause I thought he was coming for round two of Pinhata-Me, like even my omen was holding a letter opener to him, [ still colorful in describing it, you can practically hear shōyō smile, that little crack the gums and lips make when they spread too dry. he’s in front of pal, bunching up fabric to the collar, but half facing viktor when he says, in a very palamedesque way, ] “Don't waste that letter opener on me!” Ahh, man . . .
[ slipping pal’s head through this hole is a bit of a chore when you’re shōyō’s height; on his toes and gently pulling said head down for him to push through and put his gangly arms in—! ]
Cut me down, tested my brain with math, [ pointedly said, as if to say, pal had picked the worst subject to test him with, ] walked me to an infirmary and I cried like a baby. He got me a cup with a little sticker on it when I was still getting cast up— Remember that, Pal? The little blood drop guy?
[ shōyō pats the sides of his arms, affably and simply part of jock culture. ]
no subject
Awesome— [ the story or the jersey? anyway— his voice goes low and takes an attempt at dramatics. ] So, I was stuck in a bear trap by the foot, all the way up there, just gotten my ass beat with a baseball bat . . .
[ gentle fphwp fphws, clearly he’s gesturing, and the fabric he’s holding waves in suit. ]
And this guy finds me hanging around, and, you know? I wanted to deck ‘em ‘cause I thought he was coming for round two of Pinhata-Me, like even my omen was holding a letter opener to him, [ still colorful in describing it, you can practically hear shōyō smile, that little crack the gums and lips make when they spread too dry. he’s in front of pal, bunching up fabric to the collar, but half facing viktor when he says, in a very palamedesque way, ] “Don't waste that letter opener on me!” Ahh, man . . .
[ slipping pal’s head through this hole is a bit of a chore when you’re shōyō’s height; on his toes and gently pulling said head down for him to push through and put his gangly arms in—! ]
Cut me down, tested my brain with math, [ pointedly said, as if to say, pal had picked the worst subject to test him with, ] walked me to an infirmary and I cried like a baby. He got me a cup with a little sticker on it when I was still getting cast up— Remember that, Pal? The little blood drop guy?
[ shōyō pats the sides of his arms, affably and simply part of jock culture. ]
I still have it. Dude saved my life.