(Untitled)

[coordinated_n]

*Near seldom varies from the A's room-kitchen-Mihael's room path, but today is the exception to the rule. Today he's making the long trek down from the top floor library, a few braille books clutched in one arm, cane in the other hand, moving cautiously. You never know what sort of thing you might run into in this place.*

Comments

[near_your_enemy]

In retrospect, he probably should have waited until Gevanni got back with the animal crackers. He probably shouldn't even be out, the state he was in. But halfway between ripping his hair out and sobbing uncontrollably was a very dangerous place to be.

So, he prowls like a deranged lion, snarling at innocent doors (or maybe not so innocent), and sobbing at guilty walls (or maybe not, again). He doesn't know where the hell he is, or what the hell he's trying to accomplish by being here. But he knows that--

--well, he doesn't know.

But when he sees Near, just standing there, a part of him just loses it, and he can barely restrain himself from flying at him right there. So, he stops, quietly standing in Near's way as he glares at him with so much hate that it's practically palpable in the air.

[coordinated_n]

N, isn't it?

*He can feel the loathing.*

[near_your_enemy]

"Die."

No confirming the statement.

"Just. Die."

[coordinated_n]

Nothing happened. I'll call it off with him, if it comes down to it. But suicide really isn't my bag. *Holding the books to his chest, defensively.*