Another bottle of diet poison~
It's been awhile since Mihael has left. N remains, for the most part, curled up on his bed--awake, but thinking. There's been a lot to think about recently, especially concerning this illness. Mihael was only adding to the troubles. And on top of that, he couldn't look to his bedposts anymore without seeing the rosary beads that weren't there.
There had been a brief period of activity, in which he'd thrown the wet clothes away and unskillfully wrapped up his hand, but for the most part, he just lays down because he depressingly lacks the energy required for fiddling with anything at the moment. Mello was in his head and he wouldn't get out. His thoughts were scattered everywhere.
But then he thinks, he didn't warn Mihael about Near not being all-the-way dead. He thinks, oh, maybe Near has gotten to him. He thinks, oh, maybe he's died from the sickness. And he doesn't care. He curls tighter into himself and he doesn't care.
And then he's in the hallway, and he's not quite sure how, but he's looking for someone--for Mello--no, he's looking for Mihael--and he stops questioning his actions because then he'd have to do something about it. He's looking for Mihael because Mihael went out drinking and that was the stupidest thing anyone could have done, but he needed to bring him back to the room, because... because... there was a damn good reason, and it wasn't that he cared. Because Mihael needed to take care of his wet clothes, before N threw them away. That was a good reason to bring him back because N was tired of picking up after everyone's mess.
So, he's stumbling walking shakily through the hallway, the fingertips of his good hand tracing against the wall. He should have had the forethought to bring a weapon. He should have had the forethought to have a weapon. N makes a mental note to steal a gun from a Mello the first chance he gets.
He has a vague notion of where the bar is, so he heads in that direction, preparing for the worst.
There had been a brief period of activity, in which he'd thrown the wet clothes away and unskillfully wrapped up his hand, but for the most part, he just lays down because he depressingly lacks the energy required for fiddling with anything at the moment. Mello was in his head and he wouldn't get out. His thoughts were scattered everywhere.
But then he thinks, he didn't warn Mihael about Near not being all-the-way dead. He thinks, oh, maybe Near has gotten to him. He thinks, oh, maybe he's died from the sickness. And he doesn't care. He curls tighter into himself and he doesn't care.
And then he's in the hallway, and he's not quite sure how, but he's looking for someone--for Mello--no, he's looking for Mihael--and he stops questioning his actions because then he'd have to do something about it. He's looking for Mihael because Mihael went out drinking and that was the stupidest thing anyone could have done, but he needed to bring him back to the room, because... because... there was a damn good reason, and it wasn't that he cared. Because Mihael needed to take care of his wet clothes, before N threw them away. That was a good reason to bring him back because N was tired of picking up after everyone's mess.
So, he's stumbling walking shakily through the hallway, the fingertips of his good hand tracing against the wall. He should have had the forethought to bring a weapon. He should have had the forethought to have a weapon. N makes a mental note to steal a gun from a Mello the first chance he gets.
He has a vague notion of where the bar is, so he heads in that direction, preparing for the worst.