(no subject)
[ WHO ] : Aaron, Muraki, open
[ WHERE ]: Basement
[ WHEN ]: Mid-morning of June 1st
[ RATING ]: (use G, PG, etc.) PG
[ WARNINGS ]: None
[ NOTES ]: After fishing Aaron out of his apartment, he absconds to the most spacious, windowless place he can find: the basement. Amazingly, it is not so he can slice apart boyflesh.
Muraki couldn't help but light a cigarette as he hurried to Aaron's apartment. Tough words and stern lectures, certainly. Written words could always hide how he really felt. He still couldn't shake the faces from behind his eyelids. Not quite. It had been a shock, and for once an unpleasant one, to see Tsuzuki-san staring blankly at him from the other side of the room when the light hit his face. It wasn't really him, he knew. There was nothing of what he obsessed over in the dull-eyed stare, not even the silent anguish from the photograph that he even now kept tucked in his jacket pocket, so it could be over his heart. The faces in the other windows were not any better. He was greeted by an endless litany of patients he had failed, back when he still felt for his patients when he had failed them. Most upsetting of all was in the bathroom, Saki's head floated in the window with that same half-awake, half dreaming expression that had been on his damned face for decades, the knobs of his spine no longer lit by the green light of the tank, but by the morning sun, white as if his bones had been bleached by Sahara sunlight.
Well, after that, he naturally saw his half-brother in every window, trying to beat out the others for his attention, now consuming his thoughts.
Consuming them even now as he knocked on the door, composing his face in a schooled mask of mild concern. Gawain-san had been in tears, after all. He needed to appear sympathetic, but strong, a strong person he could cling to.
[ WHERE ]: Basement
[ WHEN ]: Mid-morning of June 1st
[ RATING ]: (use G, PG, etc.) PG
[ WARNINGS ]: None
[ NOTES ]: After fishing Aaron out of his apartment, he absconds to the most spacious, windowless place he can find: the basement. Amazingly, it is not so he can slice apart boyflesh.
Muraki couldn't help but light a cigarette as he hurried to Aaron's apartment. Tough words and stern lectures, certainly. Written words could always hide how he really felt. He still couldn't shake the faces from behind his eyelids. Not quite. It had been a shock, and for once an unpleasant one, to see Tsuzuki-san staring blankly at him from the other side of the room when the light hit his face. It wasn't really him, he knew. There was nothing of what he obsessed over in the dull-eyed stare, not even the silent anguish from the photograph that he even now kept tucked in his jacket pocket, so it could be over his heart. The faces in the other windows were not any better. He was greeted by an endless litany of patients he had failed, back when he still felt for his patients when he had failed them. Most upsetting of all was in the bathroom, Saki's head floated in the window with that same half-awake, half dreaming expression that had been on his damned face for decades, the knobs of his spine no longer lit by the green light of the tank, but by the morning sun, white as if his bones had been bleached by Sahara sunlight.
Well, after that, he naturally saw his half-brother in every window, trying to beat out the others for his attention, now consuming his thoughts.
Consuming them even now as he knocked on the door, composing his face in a schooled mask of mild concern. Gawain-san had been in tears, after all. He needed to appear sympathetic, but strong, a strong person he could cling to.