Post by Sabaku on May 15, 2015 1:24:36 GMT -5
In time.
Kouji felt his stomach clench at those words, the rise of panic in his throat. It sounded so...permanent. And yet--
He had been holding onto hope, hadn't he? That this was just temporary, that his sight would come back; he'd taken it almost as a given, because he couldn't admit to himself that it may not be the case. It was like a chasm opening at his feet, and within was nothing but darkness, stretching on and on and on endlessly before him.
Shivering in the rain, he pushed past Shirio, felt his way through the door, to the relative warmth beyond.
Bowing his head, he forced his rapid breath to ease before it betrayed him, laying bare his fear for Shirio to see. That thought was almost too much to bear. And besides...it was too early to know now anyway, wasn't it? How could they say anything for certain?
Yet he remembered the pain, lying in the hospital bed, when he'd reached for his byakugan and found a hundred searing knives, and his hand went to his face, half-expecting blood. He'd heard the nurses talk of it, how it ran from his eyes when they brought him in, though they couldn't say why, and he hated them again as much as he had then.
The hand at his arm pulled him from his thoughts, and he jumped, startled by the touch, by the sound of water hitting the floor. Had he really been out there so long? But he nodded, taking a few small steps forward, fingertips brushing the backs of his chairs to mark his way. "Yeah." There, the doorway, and then the stairs...
"I'm not tired." A lie. He was more weary than he could ever recall feeling. "I don't want to sleep." At least that part was true. Sleep wouldn't change anything, and he didn't think he could, anyway. Pushing his fingers through his hair, he shoved it away from his face, felt the water run between his fingers. Heavily, clumsily, he fumbled with his yukata, wanting nothing more than to be free of its cold weight suddenly, to be warm and dry again if nothing else - but he stopped short as his fingers struggled with the belt.
"Can..." It came out too soft, and he had to try again, licking his dry lips, turning away from where he knew Shirio stood, or at least where he judged him to be by the sound of his movements. "Can you help me find something to wear? Upstairs...there's a chest by the wall." His face burned with the shame of asking, but he didn't trust himself to try the stairs again just yet. To be so helpless in his own home...
But it wasn't like he had much choice, did he? All the pride had burned out of him already, and there was nothing left but to swallow the remnants.
Kouji felt his stomach clench at those words, the rise of panic in his throat. It sounded so...permanent. And yet--
He had been holding onto hope, hadn't he? That this was just temporary, that his sight would come back; he'd taken it almost as a given, because he couldn't admit to himself that it may not be the case. It was like a chasm opening at his feet, and within was nothing but darkness, stretching on and on and on endlessly before him.
Shivering in the rain, he pushed past Shirio, felt his way through the door, to the relative warmth beyond.
Bowing his head, he forced his rapid breath to ease before it betrayed him, laying bare his fear for Shirio to see. That thought was almost too much to bear. And besides...it was too early to know now anyway, wasn't it? How could they say anything for certain?
Yet he remembered the pain, lying in the hospital bed, when he'd reached for his byakugan and found a hundred searing knives, and his hand went to his face, half-expecting blood. He'd heard the nurses talk of it, how it ran from his eyes when they brought him in, though they couldn't say why, and he hated them again as much as he had then.
The hand at his arm pulled him from his thoughts, and he jumped, startled by the touch, by the sound of water hitting the floor. Had he really been out there so long? But he nodded, taking a few small steps forward, fingertips brushing the backs of his chairs to mark his way. "Yeah." There, the doorway, and then the stairs...
"I'm not tired." A lie. He was more weary than he could ever recall feeling. "I don't want to sleep." At least that part was true. Sleep wouldn't change anything, and he didn't think he could, anyway. Pushing his fingers through his hair, he shoved it away from his face, felt the water run between his fingers. Heavily, clumsily, he fumbled with his yukata, wanting nothing more than to be free of its cold weight suddenly, to be warm and dry again if nothing else - but he stopped short as his fingers struggled with the belt.
"Can..." It came out too soft, and he had to try again, licking his dry lips, turning away from where he knew Shirio stood, or at least where he judged him to be by the sound of his movements. "Can you help me find something to wear? Upstairs...there's a chest by the wall." His face burned with the shame of asking, but he didn't trust himself to try the stairs again just yet. To be so helpless in his own home...
But it wasn't like he had much choice, did he? All the pride had burned out of him already, and there was nothing left but to swallow the remnants.