At her pulling away and walking to the other side, he sighed as he remained silent, not falling suit with Ichinose's preparation just yet.
Except his gaze had lowered, and then his head hung down, rubbing his clammy hands together as he closed his eyes.
The warmth of the room faded into something distant. Not cold, not unwelcome—just... muted. Like he’d slipped underwater. Ichinose’s soft movements at the other end of the bed no longer registered as something he was a part of. They were distant, happening in the periphery of a life that suddenly didn’t feel like his anymore.
He exhaled slowly, the sound shaky. Alcohol loosened the tongue, but in his case, it loosened memory. And now that her laughter had died down, and the night didn’t have anywhere else to go, his mind began to drift.
Rumi.
The name hovered behind his eyes like light through stained glass—familiar and too precious to look at for long. She’d be laughing if she could see him now. Not mocking—never that. But in that gentle, knowing way of hers. The way she used to when she caught him fussing over minutiae or apologizing too much to a barista.
no subject
At her pulling away and walking to the other side, he sighed as he remained silent, not falling suit with Ichinose's preparation just yet.
Except his gaze had lowered, and then his head hung down, rubbing his clammy hands together as he closed his eyes.
The warmth of the room faded into something distant. Not cold, not unwelcome—just... muted. Like he’d slipped underwater. Ichinose’s soft movements at the other end of the bed no longer registered as something he was a part of. They were distant, happening in the periphery of a life that suddenly didn’t feel like his anymore.
He exhaled slowly, the sound shaky. Alcohol loosened the tongue, but in his case, it loosened memory. And now that her laughter had died down, and the night didn’t have anywhere else to go, his mind began to drift.
Rumi.
The name hovered behind his eyes like light through stained glass—familiar and too precious to look at for long. She’d be laughing if she could see him now. Not mocking—never that. But in that gentle, knowing way of hers. The way she used to when she caught him fussing over minutiae or apologizing too much to a barista.
Or staying up late nights for his research.
"..."