it was cold before when he first arrived, glacial frigidity with his breath coming out in penitent wisps, but it's like rin's words have the capacity to drop the temperature a full fifteen degrees celsius because he can't feel his face or his hands or his legs anymore. however, he can feel the sickening, lopsided psychosis within himself, a sort of ghosting, apparitional horror while rin speaks, diaphanous and full of inarticulate misunderstandings.
makoto drops the cerevice.
it hits the floor, thunks with a reverberating clatter, and it takes him yet another minute or two to grab it, to manually pry it from the floor with clawing fingers and hope it sticks solid to his hands, unlike everything else.
at some point, he's bitten his lip. his mouth is warm with blood. ]
Did something happen to you? Were you injured? You know better than to walk around in a condition like that.
[ his voice is a little more vacant now, heedless as he abandons the arduous endeavor of carefully stacking away the books. deserting the library entirely without so much as a backwards glance, he treks out into the hall, taking the staircase over the nebulous risk of falling clear through an elevator shaft. ]
Can we meet up somewhere? I need to see you for myself.
[ the clatter of sound has rin cursing and jerking his cerevice away from his ear, his heart shattering his ribcage. after a morning spent in the midst of exploding buildings, for a moment he'd believed that it had all started up again, that he had to get out, raise the alert all over again --
and then makoto's voice rises above the churning of his blood and rin forces himself to listen. the meaning of makoto's words coagulates before rin can make himself understand.
he forces himself to count to ten. tries again. ]
Told you I was fine, Makoto.
[ it's softer than it should have been, rin falling short of irritation. he's tired, an exhaustion that goes beyond the simple desire for sleep. he doesn't have time for this. ]
There's a lot of stuff I need to be doing out here. I'll call later. Keep your phone on you and text me if anything comes up.
[ it's not anger that has rin cutting the line, but necessity. it's (pathetic, weak, idiotic) to be so affected by a clatter of a phone hitting the ground, but rin has no control over the rabbit-skitter of his pulse. he tucks his phone away, grateful for the distance between makoto and himself.
besides, the search team had planned on sending a message to the school once everything cleared up. makoto - and his friend, too - would be fine. ]
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audio.
it was cold before when he first arrived, glacial frigidity with his breath coming out in penitent wisps, but it's like rin's words have the capacity to drop the temperature a full fifteen degrees celsius because he can't feel his face or his hands or his legs anymore. however, he can feel the sickening, lopsided psychosis within himself, a sort of ghosting, apparitional horror while rin speaks, diaphanous and full of inarticulate misunderstandings.
makoto drops the cerevice.
it hits the floor, thunks with a reverberating clatter, and it takes him yet another minute or two to grab it, to manually pry it from the floor with clawing fingers and hope it sticks solid to his hands, unlike everything else.
at some point, he's bitten his lip. his mouth is warm with blood. ]
Did something happen to you? Were you injured? You know better than to walk around in a condition like that.
[ his voice is a little more vacant now, heedless as he abandons the arduous endeavor of carefully stacking away the books. deserting the library entirely without so much as a backwards glance, he treks out into the hall, taking the staircase over the nebulous risk of falling clear through an elevator shaft. ]
Can we meet up somewhere? I need to see you for myself.
audio.
and then makoto's voice rises above the churning of his blood and rin forces himself to listen. the meaning of makoto's words coagulates before rin can make himself understand.
he forces himself to count to ten. tries again. ]
Told you I was fine, Makoto.
[ it's softer than it should have been, rin falling short of irritation. he's tired, an exhaustion that goes beyond the simple desire for sleep. he doesn't have time for this. ]
There's a lot of stuff I need to be doing out here. I'll call later. Keep your phone on you and text me if anything comes up.
[ it's not anger that has rin cutting the line, but necessity. it's (pathetic, weak, idiotic) to be so affected by a clatter of a phone hitting the ground, but rin has no control over the rabbit-skitter of his pulse. he tucks his phone away, grateful for the distance between makoto and himself.
besides, the search team had planned on sending a message to the school once everything cleared up. makoto - and his friend, too - would be fine. ]