'Cause now we say goodnight from our own separate sides
WHO: Sindre and Valdi
WHEN: Very, very early in the morning, 11 November 2010
WHERE: Their apartment
WHAT: ...holy crap, they're bonding
Sindre's eyes flew open as he fought to get his breathing under control. Looking over, he had no idea how his brother's puffin ended up in his room, but he couldn't complain as it's squawk had pulled Sindre out from the dream in which...in which...
He raced to the bathroom, brain frantically trying to break down what it had imagined even as it a tiny part, sounding slightly hysterical, asked why the puffin was even awake. Reaching the toilet just in time, Sindre emptied his stomach once, twice, three times even as he tried to reject the images pouring into his head.
Dry heaving a final time, Sindre spat the remaining bile into the toilet before collapsing against the wall, resting his head in his hands. What had that been? He would never...not to all those people. And he'd never enjoy it. He shuddered as his mind fed him images of what he had done, directly or indirectly, to Toris, to Jared, to Emi, Peter...
Valdi.
He was outside his brother's door in seconds, the need to ensure his brother's safety and good health warring with rational thought insisting that it had all been a nightmare, that Valdi couldn't possibly be injured or-or-
It couldn't hurt to just take a peak. Couldn't hurt to slip silently inside, no harm in padding quietly to his brother's side, nothing wrong with just listening to the sound of his breathing, reassuring Sindre that he was alive, alive, alive...
WHEN: Very, very early in the morning, 11 November 2010
WHERE: Their apartment
WHAT: ...holy crap, they're bonding
Sindre's eyes flew open as he fought to get his breathing under control. Looking over, he had no idea how his brother's puffin ended up in his room, but he couldn't complain as it's squawk had pulled Sindre out from the dream in which...in which...
He raced to the bathroom, brain frantically trying to break down what it had imagined even as it a tiny part, sounding slightly hysterical, asked why the puffin was even awake. Reaching the toilet just in time, Sindre emptied his stomach once, twice, three times even as he tried to reject the images pouring into his head.
Dry heaving a final time, Sindre spat the remaining bile into the toilet before collapsing against the wall, resting his head in his hands. What had that been? He would never...not to all those people. And he'd never enjoy it. He shuddered as his mind fed him images of what he had done, directly or indirectly, to Toris, to Jared, to Emi, Peter...
Valdi.
He was outside his brother's door in seconds, the need to ensure his brother's safety and good health warring with rational thought insisting that it had all been a nightmare, that Valdi couldn't possibly be injured or-or-
It couldn't hurt to just take a peak. Couldn't hurt to slip silently inside, no harm in padding quietly to his brother's side, nothing wrong with just listening to the sound of his breathing, reassuring Sindre that he was alive, alive, alive...