(Untitled)

[sleepingpath]

[Along with the breeze from a cheery-tree courtyard comes the scent of cherry blossoms, and the faintly-metallic smell of blood. Someone is waking up from having died.]

[A mop of brown hair pokes out the door and peeks both ways down the hallway just before a brownsprout stumbles out and leans against the opposite wall. Despite having to be pieced

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[selfdeluded]

[He'd been wandering around a lot since Sleeper died - between his room, the kitchens (god only knew why; even if he could eat normal food, he had no appetite at all), a few libraries... but he always ended up back in that courtyard. As if the Dressing Room would be kind enough bring Sleeper back in a place he could actually find him...

It seems, though, that the place was actually considerate for once. He freezes just down the hall - his senses tend to go dull when he doesn't eat, and he hadn't noticed the smell (either that or he was used to it, the dried blood smell that lingered in the courtyard) - and stares at the boy curled up just down the hall.

Far too real to be a ghost.]

Allen?

[selfdeluded]

[Hobollen nods again, leaning just the slightest bit closer to gently nose at Sleeper, before pulling away just enough to make it obvious he's going to stand, and holding a hand out. Need help getting up?]

[sleepingpath]

[He doesn't nose back, still feeling a bit too numb. But he does nod at him. Even if he did need help, he wouldn't admit it. He slowly tries to pull himself up.]

[selfdeluded]

[He wasn't expecting him to, honestly. The nod alone is better than he was hoping for, in some ways. But he stands himself, a little shakily - it's been a long while since he fed, and he'd have to go handle that tomorrow - though he still has his hand held out when he does. If it looks like Sleeper is about to topple over, he'll definitely help, but otherwise... he won't force it on him.]

[sleepingpath]

[He doesn't topple over at all, really, mostly because after a few steps he shifts so he can lean against Hobollen anyway. He doesn't trust his legs. And for now, he's just following the other boy, still eying the doorway to the courtyard as they pass it.]

How... long was I...? [Gone?]

[selfdeluded]

[And, in a way that's very obvious, Hobollen will wrap an arm around Sleeper again when he does. But he won't move too quickly down the hall, no matter how far he wants to get from that courtyard, doesn't want to move too fast for the other boy to keep up.]

I don't know for sure... but the blood was still fresh when I... [He wants to say "found you", but there was nothing left to find.] ...It was about two weeks.

[sleepingpath]

[Two weeks? Good Lord.]

[Presses closer, trying to suppress a shiver.]

... two weeks.

[selfdeluded]

[And that arm around him will become more of a one-armed hug in turn.] Mm... That's about how long I was dead, too.

[sleepingpath]

I'm sorry.

[He's not sure why he's apologizing, really. It just feels right. Maybe it's just to fill the silence. At any rate, he takes in a hitching kind of breath and continues to follow, though his footsteps seem to become more steady when they turn a corner and are out of sight of the courtyard. It's easier to walk, now that the place isn't looming behind him.]

[His stomach seems to growl on cue, when the kitchen comes into view.

[selfdeluded]

...It's-- it's okay. [He's alive. He came back. That's-- that's what matters, isn't it?

The improvement is a relief though, and he lets out a sound that might be a laugh when Sleeper's stomach growls the way it does as he leads him inside.]

...want me to find something, or do you want to pick?

[sleepingpath]

[It's quiet. No one else is here. He can handle that.]

[His stomach growls again, and he flops down at a nearby table. Doesn't really care that he's still.... smudged with blood, really.]

I don't care. [Runs his hand over his face.] Soup?

[selfdeluded]

[Allen's sleeves probably have some smudges of blood on them now as well, but he doesn't seem to mind it so much. He watches Sleeper take a seat, ever the worrier, before moving to check the cabinets for some canned soup - because hell if he knows how to actually make soup.

He pauses though, fingers brushing over some plastic packing, before pulling it out of the cabinet and tugging it open.

A moment later, he sets the container of chocolate chip cookies down on the table, and wanders back over to the cabinets to search for soup. He'd promised after all, hadn't he?]

[sleepingpath]

[He doesn't immediately dig into the cookies. Instead, he reaches out and brushes his fingers over the packaging. You remembered...]

... you don't want any? [Derp. He forgets the diet thing. Blame it on his inability to think of him as anything.... not human.]

[selfdeluded]

[A pause, before he smiles. It's small, but despite the situation... it's still rather genuine.] Of course I do. [Damn the diet, man, he could barf it all up later.] But... You want soup, don't you? [Tapping a can with his finger.]

[sleepingpath]

Y-yeah... [Returns it, but he's still not going to get to the cookies until after Hobollen sits down. It's really... awkward, eating in front of when they aren't.] What kind is it?

[selfdeluded]

Ah... [Lifting the can, and looking between the picture, and the name a few times.] ...Chicken noodle..?