INCOMPLETE.
Who: Ritsuka, Sasuke. OPEN.
What: ...silly boy is tired, dizzy and alone.
Where: Somewhere in the Residential District.
When: The morning after Ritsuka's post here.
It was cold.
Ritsuka pressed himself further into the quiet corner he'd found himself the night before, ears pressed flat against his skull- it had been freezing, he was freezing, half to death. He had hoped the buildings would break the cold wind, but it barely did anything- his head was still spinning, dizzy, from a distant headache, not large enough to be splitting but painful enough to be there, and he hugged his knees tightly, tail curled around his feet.
He was inside- just inside of this building, hours and hours ago. It was warm and comfortable, from what he could see, he didn't venture too far in beyond the front door- he'd stayed there, just inside, resting his head against the wall. He was tired- so tired- and it was wearing him down.
He hadn't been able to sleep ( it was cold, cold in a different way, a cold that he couldn't feel like sharp edge of ice but reached parts of him the cold bite of the wind could never even touch- it was empty, hollow and forgotten-- people lived here once and vanished, disappeared, they left nothing behind but these houses and-- no one remembered, not at all, and no one even cared ), try as he might, eyes screwed shut against the world and mind swimming with ( --mother, I'm sorry- are you lonely- I'll be home soon- I promise- I didn't mean to leave- please, I-- ) thoughts he couldn't quite place, couldn't quite sort, and every hour or so he'd reach for the phone again ( --why did you lie to me- did you know- I trusted you, I- are you coming- why did you- Soubi- are you- why won't you- where are you, Soubi, I-- ), only to sigh and slip it back into his pocket again.
Ritsuka had stumbled out of the house, tired and weary and dizzy, and decided he'd rather face the cold ( than the deadness, than the stillness, than the deafening-maddening silence inside those walls ).
He'd fallen asleep for an hour ( and dreamed- dreamed about butterflies and people walking and laughing and dancing through the mist, Soubi and his mother and Yuiko and he couldn't reach them, couldn't touch them, they couldn't hear him calling and then he saw him- Seimei. Alive--), then woke up again, shaken and tired with names on his lips that he couldn't remember saying. The ground was swimming, stirring, shifting before his eyes, the lines of pavement swaying and-- it was dizzying, and he leaned his head back to stare at the sky.
At least the clouds were still the same, he thought.
(-- alive and breathing and perfect- but those kind, kind eyes he thought he'd never ever see again looked right through him- and Seimei turned away. Turned away without a word or a glance and melted into the silence and the butterflies...
...and Ritsuka woke up, and he shivered
What: ...silly boy is tired, dizzy and alone.
Where: Somewhere in the Residential District.
When: The morning after Ritsuka's post here.
It was cold.
Ritsuka pressed himself further into the quiet corner he'd found himself the night before, ears pressed flat against his skull- it had been freezing, he was freezing, half to death. He had hoped the buildings would break the cold wind, but it barely did anything- his head was still spinning, dizzy, from a distant headache, not large enough to be splitting but painful enough to be there, and he hugged his knees tightly, tail curled around his feet.
He was inside- just inside of this building, hours and hours ago. It was warm and comfortable, from what he could see, he didn't venture too far in beyond the front door- he'd stayed there, just inside, resting his head against the wall. He was tired- so tired- and it was wearing him down.
He hadn't been able to sleep ( it was cold, cold in a different way, a cold that he couldn't feel like sharp edge of ice but reached parts of him the cold bite of the wind could never even touch- it was empty, hollow and forgotten-- people lived here once and vanished, disappeared, they left nothing behind but these houses and-- no one remembered, not at all, and no one even cared ), try as he might, eyes screwed shut against the world and mind swimming with ( --mother, I'm sorry- are you lonely- I'll be home soon- I promise- I didn't mean to leave- please, I-- ) thoughts he couldn't quite place, couldn't quite sort, and every hour or so he'd reach for the phone again ( --why did you lie to me- did you know- I trusted you, I- are you coming- why did you- Soubi- are you- why won't you- where are you, Soubi, I-- ), only to sigh and slip it back into his pocket again.
Ritsuka had stumbled out of the house, tired and weary and dizzy, and decided he'd rather face the cold ( than the deadness, than the stillness, than the deafening-maddening silence inside those walls ).
He'd fallen asleep for an hour ( and dreamed- dreamed about butterflies and people walking and laughing and dancing through the mist, Soubi and his mother and Yuiko and he couldn't reach them, couldn't touch them, they couldn't hear him calling and then he saw him- Seimei. Alive--), then woke up again, shaken and tired with names on his lips that he couldn't remember saying. The ground was swimming, stirring, shifting before his eyes, the lines of pavement swaying and-- it was dizzying, and he leaned his head back to stare at the sky.
At least the clouds were still the same, he thought.
(-- alive and breathing and perfect- but those kind, kind eyes he thought he'd never ever see again looked right through him- and Seimei turned away. Turned away without a word or a glance and melted into the silence and the butterflies...
...and Ritsuka woke up, and he shivered