[closed] and i'm feeling directionless;
Who: Finland suomi_sniper; Sweden tillsolen
What: "If y'don't want me t'come, I can wait here for you. 'm in twenty-six." "Fine, I'll. I'll be there."
When: Late afternoon, the day after therapy. About thirty seconds after this.
Where: North Wing, Sweden's room.
Warnings: Angst? Drama? Finland's (inevitable) language, perhaps.
Finland's breath rose in clouds in front of him, the only thing this place had in common with his own home. Reflexively he dug his fingers into the wall, tore out a chunk of snow and thrust it into his mouth. One fluid motion; an instinctive but useless gesture that did nothing to relax him but at least made him feel safer. He knew it wouldn't do him any good to hover outside Sweden's door like this. They were only two rooms apart from each other, not even thirty steps; his hesitation would be made obvious if he didn't make himself immediately known. He thought it would at least be a good idea to think of something to say before he knocked, but of course, nothing came to mind. Nothing but whys and if you had onlys, nothing he thought would be a good idea to bring into the room.
He swore under his breath only to choke on the snow he'd forgotten about, and knocked once, twice. Not a third time. (Not again.)
What: "If y'don't want me t'come, I can wait here for you. 'm in twenty-six." "Fine, I'll. I'll be there."
When: Late afternoon, the day after therapy. About thirty seconds after this.
Where: North Wing, Sweden's room.
Warnings: Angst? Drama? Finland's (inevitable) language, perhaps.
Finland's breath rose in clouds in front of him, the only thing this place had in common with his own home. Reflexively he dug his fingers into the wall, tore out a chunk of snow and thrust it into his mouth. One fluid motion; an instinctive but useless gesture that did nothing to relax him but at least made him feel safer. He knew it wouldn't do him any good to hover outside Sweden's door like this. They were only two rooms apart from each other, not even thirty steps; his hesitation would be made obvious if he didn't make himself immediately known. He thought it would at least be a good idea to think of something to say before he knocked, but of course, nothing came to mind. Nothing but whys and if you had onlys, nothing he thought would be a good idea to bring into the room.
He swore under his breath only to choke on the snow he'd forgotten about, and knocked once, twice. Not a third time. (Not again.)