So.  Gevanni's place is nice and all, and Near's starting to feel like maybe he can go out again.  He's only been able to make quick runs to the kitchen the past two weeks--Gevanni's done it for him until then--but other than that, he's stayed in.  Thought.  Slept.  Build a tower that would rival any other Near's greatest achievement.  Put together ( Read more... )

It really wasn't his fault.

The kitchen was supposed to be there.  Instead, he opened the door, stepped inside to reach for the light, only to find cool stone pressed against his hand where the kitchen light switch was supposed to be.  He blinks for a moment--it's dark.  Pitch-black, and when did the door close on him?  He fumbles back for it, but ( Read more... )

Oh god.

He couldn't.... oh god

N could barely think straight, the mark on his cheek suddenly much less of an issue than it had been a moment before.  He couldn't even look at Mihael, hands pressed to his mouth as he stumbled against the wall in horror, barely managing to stay upright.

He was going to be sick.

[[ooc: continued from here]]

Suppertime, and N is not in a particularly good mood.  He sits on the counter in the kitchen, decidedly Mihael-less--while the blonde's attention was loved, it wasn't exactly beneficial to thinking.

He munches on more animal crackers, snapping off the head of the seahorse he was currently holding between his fingers.

He'd left.

He'd actually left.

N restrained a choked sob, because he was not going to cry about this--that was just stupid.  But something needed to be done, he needed to be somewhere, somewhere away from people.  He needed to--

--fuck, he didn't even know.  He had no idea what he was doing, everything just seemed to be so confusing, unreal.  He ( Read more... )

N is sitting on the bed, paging through a large encyclopedia.  He's been staying unnaturally close to this room since he's gotten back--whether or not it's because he still has nightmares of Light blowing his brains out, or if he's just thankful enough to stay close, it's not quite defined.  Still.  His demeanor could almost even be classified as ' ( Read more... )

N's clothes are still in the dresser.  His origami is, untouched, on the desk.   There appears to be nothing wrong with his former room--it looks lived in, looks nice, looks like someone should come back from having tea at any moment.

But N isn't there anymore.

Sometimes, leaving is like that.

( Day 1 )

In retrospect, he probably should have gone back and told Mihael the instant he found out.  Mihael probably would have liked to know.  Mihael would have wanted to know.

Instead, he was mad.  He was very mad, and he wasn't going to dismiss it so easily.  N's stubborn anger lasted longer than it should have--longer than he really had time for, all ( Read more... )

N is sulking in the kitchen, because he doesn't want to go back to his room.  Oddly enough, he's the only one in there.  And he doesn't want to go back.

Then again, leaving in a hurry like that, when one is all mad and upset and violently cursing everyone else in the room in his or her head, then going back is the last thing he or she would want to ( Read more... )

There's a small trail of dominos in the hallway.  It's leading towards the open door to a staircase.  Several dominos on each step, going up one floor, two floors, just lonely dominos as if they were naturally meant to be there.  It was a marvel that nobody had knocked them over yet.

Finally, the dominos branch out into a hallway, leading down it ( Read more... )