He makes it through three days. School, afternoons, nights, all of it goes by in a blur of sympathy and condolences that are kept at a comfortable distance.
It's not until that third day, coming home from school, that he sees the laundry on hanging outside and realizes it's been there almost a week, through rain and sun and fog. When he enters the house, he suddenly can't remember the exact pitch of Nanako's voice when she calls him "big bro". He couldn't remember it last week either, but last week he was secure in the belief that he and his friends would save her no matter what, so he didn't need to remember. He would hear it again soon.
He's wrestling his futon into place when he remembers he doesn't actually like being alone. The distance isn't comfortable anymore and he doesn't like the silence. It keeps him up at night.
Wrestling with the futon proves pointless and he flings it away from himself in a rare show of frustration. It catches on the edge of the desk, knocking half of the somewhat-organized clutter on its surface to the floor. He hears the clatter of pencils hitting the floor and without thinking, he turns and with a sweep of his arm sends everything that survived the futon down after them.
And then it's an hour later and he's standing in the aftermath of a typhoon with his name and he can't even bring himself to care that it's his own belongings he's trashed. Tugging his blanket away from where it's tangled with the futon, he wraps it around himself and curls up on the floor without bothering to take his uniform off.
Everything was over. But it definitely didn't feel like it.
Out of habit, he looks at the television when the time hits 00:00. Of course, there's nothing there. Just the usual static. And yet a part of him wishes something was there. An enemy to fight, a lose end to tie up, anything. They were all still struggling in their minds, against an invisible foe. Fear, and doubt, and a desire for justice when judgment may not some. It was enough to drive someone crazy.
Yousuke throws down his pencil in frustration, and lets his head fall into his book. He turns his gaze over to his cell phone, sitting untouched on his desk, unmoving. Today he'd texted Souji several times, as he did the day before, and the day before that, as he expected his other teammates to have as well. None of them were able to elicit a response beyond monosyllabic assents.
And it worried him. Really, deeply worried him. Another little foe that gnawed away at him. He slipped his hand over to take his phone and flip it open, hoping for something to be there that wasn't. He felt craven for not being able to do anything more. His leader, his partner, his best friend, was in the most pain of them all, the length of ability to help Nanako completely used up and just as little left to fight against as the rest of them.
His fist clenches. There's no-one there, he realizes, and he wonders what it would feel like to come home to silence. That's when he decides to go.
It's ridiculous. Sneaking out to his bike back to the Dojima household in the middle of the God-damn night. He peddles one-handed, using his other to call Souji repeatedly. He knew the other wasn't going to pick up, but he needed to make a racket to let him know something was coming.
"I'm an idiot," Yousuke says to himself, and repeats it, each time for a different reason. "I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot."
Souji's phone is somewhere under his desk. He has no idea where the battery is and he hadn't bothered to look when he lost it. He'd have plenty of time between not sleeping and school to find it and see if he'd missed any calls or messages.
He shifts restlessly on the floor. In hindsight, it probably wouldn't have been better to sleep on the couch, but he doesn't care enough to move. He's not sure he wants to sleep anyway.
1/2 I'll finish tomorrow!masukukunaiAugust 25 2011, 07:33:08 UTC
He doesn't pick up, as expected. When Yousuke comes to his front door, he calls him three more times for good measure. If Souji didn't know someone was coming by now, that was his own fault. Like a proper burgler, he breaks in by using a using a key hidden in the backyard garden.
The house was silent. Dead. An unfortunate turn of phrase, but he couldn't think of anything more appropriate.
He swallows. He has no idea what he's up against here. What will Souji be like? During the day, he was a catatonic wearing a mask of normalcy, to put on a face for everyone to rely on and hope with. Now, however, he didn't have to be anything for anyone. Had he ever really seen that side of Souji? Maybe in glimpses, but...
When he tries to shout, he feels his voice dry up in his throat. His resolve shrivels up a bit with it. What was he doing? Idiot, he thinks again, and shakes his numbing hand, then running it through his hair. He takes a deep breath, as if to shout, but just... exhales. He tries again, but with the same result. It's only the third time that he's able to spit it out.
Souji's still not asleep and the shout makes him jerk and sit up in surprise. Yousuke's in his house. Why--
...Yousuke's in his house!
He stumbles to his feet and fumbles in the dark toward the door. Normally he can navigate his room without any trouble, but this time he trips on the fallen shelves, and crashes to the floor, hitting his face on the crossbar.
There's no way that went unnoticed from downstairs, but he doesn't get up immediately. His face is throbbing and when he puts his hand to it, blood drips across it, surprisingly warm. He needs to get to his door before Yousuke does, but he stays where he is, trying to collect himself enough get there.
Yousuke jumps in surprise himself when he hears the crashing.
"Souji! Just-- hang on!"
He drops his bag of food on the floor and runs to where he remembers his room being. He feels about in the dark, and his socks slip a bit on the wooden stairs and he stumbles, but he has a railing to steady himself with. So we don't end up with a double nosebleed situation. When he gets to the top, he finds Souji's doorway with his hands and slides them around the threshold until his hand runs over the light switch, and he flips it on.
His eyes survey the room in a split second, and his mind can't process what he sees. He doesn't have the capacity. In a minute he'd have the time to figure it out.
Instead, he focuses on Souji, and forgets about everything else.
"Dude," he breathes, and gets down to his knees. He sees the blood, and there's more than worry in his voice "are you okay? I mean, your face..."
Yousuke knows that there's more wrong than just his nosebleed, but we're starting with the basics.
"It's okay." Souji's voice comes out wet and thick with the blood in his throat, and he swallows to try to clear it. "I-- Hang on..."
He shifts, fumbling for a shirt that had spilled out of the closet earlier. He uses that to sop up the blood in an attempt to keep it off of his uniform shirt.
"Oh, ew," his reply is a reflex, "don't do that. Here, wait a sec."
With his room light on, he can navigate to the bathroom easily. Yousuke grabs the entire box of tissues. He gives it to Souji after taking one to clean up a spot of blood on the floor.
Accepting the tissues, he pinches the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb.
"Thanks..." He isn't really sure what else to say, other than to start spouting excuses right away, so he says nothing and uses the nosebleed as a distraction.
It gives Yousuke some time to look around the room and gather his thoughts. He takes in the mess-- not just a mess of neglect, but a purposeful wrecking. It frightens him. It's the first time seeing him act like that. At least, seeing that he was capable of acting that way.
He can guess why. Nanako...
Yousuke sits down completely, crossing his legs and getting comfortable while Souji collects himself.
The silence that follows bothers Souji. Yousuke's almost never quiet. He waits until the bleeding starts to let up, though, before he says anything.
"Did you call me? My phone--" He glances around. It's pretty easy to guess what happened to the phone. "...I wasn't expecting you." That was pretty obvious, too.
"I called you a ton of times," he scratches the back of his neck, sheepish, but holding his ground, "sorry that it didn't get to you. I know this is kind of... in the middle of the night. But I felt like I had to."
"And I'm glad I did." Yousuke looks around the room, suggesting the reason why.
"I'm fine." He responds a little too quickly and wants to cringe at how much of a lie that probably sounds like right now. There isn't even really a way to amend that to make it sound plausible.
He gets to his feet slowly. "Let's go downstairs."
Yousuke can't blame him for wanting to leave this room. He nods in agreement, and stands up to get out of his way, taking one last look back in it as he shuts off the lights behind Souji.
"You don't have to talk to me or anything," he adds on as their takes the stairs down, "I can just... shut up, or whatever. Being alone is probably easier than having to explain."
Souji shakes his head finds the light switch downstairs with ease. He notes the bag of food Yousuke dropped, picking it up and setting it on the kitchen table.
It's not until that third day, coming home from school, that he sees the laundry on hanging outside and realizes it's been there almost a week, through rain and sun and fog. When he enters the house, he suddenly can't remember the exact pitch of Nanako's voice when she calls him "big bro". He couldn't remember it last week either, but last week he was secure in the belief that he and his friends would save her no matter what, so he didn't need to remember. He would hear it again soon.
He's wrestling his futon into place when he remembers he doesn't actually like being alone. The distance isn't comfortable anymore and he doesn't like the silence. It keeps him up at night.
Wrestling with the futon proves pointless and he flings it away from himself in a rare show of frustration. It catches on the edge of the desk, knocking half of the somewhat-organized clutter on its surface to the floor. He hears the clatter of pencils hitting the floor and without thinking, he turns and with a sweep of his arm sends everything that survived the futon down after them.
And then it's an hour later and he's standing in the aftermath of a typhoon with his name and he can't even bring himself to care that it's his own belongings he's trashed. Tugging his blanket away from where it's tangled with the futon, he wraps it around himself and curls up on the floor without bothering to take his uniform off.
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Out of habit, he looks at the television when the time hits 00:00. Of course, there's nothing there. Just the usual static. And yet a part of him wishes something was there. An enemy to fight, a lose end to tie up, anything. They were all still struggling in their minds, against an invisible foe. Fear, and doubt, and a desire for justice when judgment may not some. It was enough to drive someone crazy.
Yousuke throws down his pencil in frustration, and lets his head fall into his book. He turns his gaze over to his cell phone, sitting untouched on his desk, unmoving. Today he'd texted Souji several times, as he did the day before, and the day before that, as he expected his other teammates to have as well. None of them were able to elicit a response beyond monosyllabic assents.
And it worried him. Really, deeply worried him. Another little foe that gnawed away at him. He slipped his hand over to take his phone and flip it open, hoping for something to be there that wasn't. He felt craven for not being able to do anything more. His leader, his partner, his best friend, was in the most pain of them all, the length of ability to help Nanako completely used up and just as little left to fight against as the rest of them.
His fist clenches. There's no-one there, he realizes, and he wonders what it would feel like to come home to silence. That's when he decides to go.
It's ridiculous. Sneaking out to his bike back to the Dojima household in the middle of the God-damn night. He peddles one-handed, using his other to call Souji repeatedly. He knew the other wasn't going to pick up, but he needed to make a racket to let him know something was coming.
"I'm an idiot," Yousuke says to himself, and repeats it, each time for a different reason. "I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot."
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He shifts restlessly on the floor. In hindsight, it probably wouldn't have been better to sleep on the couch, but he doesn't care enough to move. He's not sure he wants to sleep anyway.
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The house was silent. Dead. An unfortunate turn of phrase, but he couldn't think of anything more appropriate.
He swallows. He has no idea what he's up against here. What will Souji be like? During the day, he was a catatonic wearing a mask of normalcy, to put on a face for everyone to rely on and hope with. Now, however, he didn't have to be anything for anyone. Had he ever really seen that side of Souji? Maybe in glimpses, but...
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"Souji!"
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...Yousuke's in his house!
He stumbles to his feet and fumbles in the dark toward the door. Normally he can navigate his room without any trouble, but this time he trips on the fallen shelves, and crashes to the floor, hitting his face on the crossbar.
There's no way that went unnoticed from downstairs, but he doesn't get up immediately. His face is throbbing and when he puts his hand to it, blood drips across it, surprisingly warm. He needs to get to his door before Yousuke does, but he stays where he is, trying to collect himself enough get there.
Reply
"Souji! Just-- hang on!"
He drops his bag of food on the floor and runs to where he remembers his room being. He feels about in the dark, and his socks slip a bit on the wooden stairs and he stumbles, but he has a railing to steady himself with. So we don't end up with a double nosebleed situation. When he gets to the top, he finds Souji's doorway with his hands and slides them around the threshold until his hand runs over the light switch, and he flips it on.
His eyes survey the room in a split second, and his mind can't process what he sees. He doesn't have the capacity. In a minute he'd have the time to figure it out.
Instead, he focuses on Souji, and forgets about everything else.
"Dude," he breathes, and gets down to his knees. He sees the blood, and there's more than worry in his voice "are you okay? I mean, your face..."
Yousuke knows that there's more wrong than just his nosebleed, but we're starting with the basics.
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He shifts, fumbling for a shirt that had spilled out of the closet earlier. He uses that to sop up the blood in an attempt to keep it off of his uniform shirt.
Reply
With his room light on, he can navigate to the bathroom easily. Yousuke grabs the entire box of tissues. He gives it to Souji after taking one to clean up a spot of blood on the floor.
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"Thanks..." He isn't really sure what else to say, other than to start spouting excuses right away, so he says nothing and uses the nosebleed as a distraction.
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He can guess why. Nanako...
Yousuke sits down completely, crossing his legs and getting comfortable while Souji collects himself.
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"Did you call me? My phone--" He glances around. It's pretty easy to guess what happened to the phone. "...I wasn't expecting you." That was pretty obvious, too.
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"And I'm glad I did." Yousuke looks around the room, suggesting the reason why.
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He gets to his feet slowly. "Let's go downstairs."
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"You don't have to talk to me or anything," he adds on as their takes the stairs down, "I can just... shut up, or whatever. Being alone is probably easier than having to explain."
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"You brought this?"
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