[The boy's soul is so ill-prepared for this. His knees give out walking to him, he crashes, but hits the bathroom floor knee-first, keeping his hands up, clothes off the floor, acting against instinct. His eyes are widely staring, transfixed with horror, but that voice, that smirk, something locks into place in his mind and his gaze steels over from the watery, fearful blue from seconds before. The quickened pace of his chest's rise and fall, the shallow, frightened breathing also quells into a strange calm, but his heart hammers in his ears still.]
You'll drown like that. [He doesn't expect his voice to sound so clear, so calm. It isn't at all how he felt just a moment ago. He isn't even sure what changed, but he wastes no more time questioning it, shifting everything he brought to tuck under one arm, he tried to grip the older boy's arms to pull him up. Was there any time left to move him or would he have to do this here? He doesn't have the physical strength to carry him on his own, so...
If this is where he'll stay, so be it.
He tears his own sleeve. The fabric doesn't give way as easily as it did for Takasugi, there was, what seemed to him, an embarassingly lengthy series of unsuccessful pulls before it tore off (messily, taking a third of the fabric off his chest as well), he quickly twists it, brings it to the older haibane's mouth. A gag offered to the one who silently granted him dignity when his pride demanded it even in sickness. He's bit down the screams on his own long enough, it won't be so easy later on; a wordless warning.]
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You'll drown like that. [He doesn't expect his voice to sound so clear, so calm. It isn't at all how he felt just a moment ago. He isn't even sure what changed, but he wastes no more time questioning it, shifting everything he brought to tuck under one arm, he tried to grip the older boy's arms to pull him up. Was there any time left to move him or would he have to do this here? He doesn't have the physical strength to carry him on his own, so...
If this is where he'll stay, so be it.
He tears his own sleeve. The fabric doesn't give way as easily as it did for Takasugi, there was, what seemed to him, an embarassingly lengthy series of unsuccessful pulls before it tore off (messily, taking a third of the fabric off his chest as well), he quickly twists it, brings it to the older haibane's mouth. A gag offered to the one who silently granted him dignity when his pride demanded it even in sickness. He's bit down the screams on his own long enough, it won't be so easy later on; a wordless warning.]