[Jun really is a good boy. Kissing him before he goes, smiling at him so gently even though his sleep was interrupted. There is a pang in his chest when Jun enters the other room, as pathetic as that is. He feels so cold without him, and he's just so scared, so anxious something will happen to take Jun away.
But he need not be too anxious. The gold string connecting their hands hasn't been severed, and Hiyori can feel the slight tug as Jun moves around in the other room. A constant reassurance that Jun is still moving around, still alive. Not frozen in stone. It may be inconvenient in some ways, but it's also a comfort. After that dream, it feels like a lifeline.
(Is that why it stubbornly won't come off...?)
He hears Jun's voice amidst the chirps in the other room, his own nickname among other words. And the gentleness in Jun's voice makes him crack a faint smile, despite everything. Then he thinks about Jun's smile as he left the room and his heart hurts. More than anything, he wants to protect that smile.
Then he thinks about the glimpse he'd gotten in his dream of the statue's frozen face at the end of the hall, and his smile falls all the way off.
Jun returns cradling the little bird like a baby. She's quieter now, her voice soft. Jun's presence and his soft smile calms her down, it seems. They really are alike, him and that bird. What would either of them do without him?
He watches the bird in her nest for a long moment, before finally looking up at Jun from his position on the bed. By "come here" does Jun mean get out of bed? He'd rather have Jun join him again. He almost demands it, almost reaches out his arms and prompts Jun to hold him. It's what he wants, and Jun would do it if he was asked. Hiyori trained him well in that regard. But then he thinks about what he needs to tell Jun, where he needs to begin, and his stomach churns, his lungs choking with guilt. In that moment he feels like he doesn't deserve to be held.
His eyes stare down at the bedcovers.]
You might want to sit down. There's...
[He swallows, that toxic concoction of guilt and fear bubbling up in his throat.]
There's something I didn't tell you. Even though I promised not to hide anything. It's...
no subject
But he need not be too anxious. The gold string connecting their hands hasn't been severed, and Hiyori can feel the slight tug as Jun moves around in the other room. A constant reassurance that Jun is still moving around, still alive. Not frozen in stone. It may be inconvenient in some ways, but it's also a comfort. After that dream, it feels like a lifeline.
(Is that why it stubbornly won't come off...?)
He hears Jun's voice amidst the chirps in the other room, his own nickname among other words. And the gentleness in Jun's voice makes him crack a faint smile, despite everything. Then he thinks about Jun's smile as he left the room and his heart hurts. More than anything, he wants to protect that smile.
Then he thinks about the glimpse he'd gotten in his dream of the statue's frozen face at the end of the hall, and his smile falls all the way off.
Jun returns cradling the little bird like a baby. She's quieter now, her voice soft. Jun's presence and his soft smile calms her down, it seems. They really are alike, him and that bird. What would either of them do without him?
He watches the bird in her nest for a long moment, before finally looking up at Jun from his position on the bed. By "come here" does Jun mean get out of bed? He'd rather have Jun join him again. He almost demands it, almost reaches out his arms and prompts Jun to hold him. It's what he wants, and Jun would do it if he was asked. Hiyori trained him well in that regard. But then he thinks about what he needs to tell Jun, where he needs to begin, and his stomach churns, his lungs choking with guilt. In that moment he feels like he doesn't deserve to be held.
His eyes stare down at the bedcovers.]
You might want to sit down. There's...
[He swallows, that toxic concoction of guilt and fear bubbling up in his throat.]
There's something I didn't tell you. Even though I promised not to hide anything. It's...
[He shivers, from his nerves and from the cold.]
It's about why people go missing.