He hated the idea. Loathed it, in fact. Thoughts raced and overtook his system and screamed you’re never getting out if he closes you in you’re going to be stuck there for fifteen years and miss Netto growing up and-
“Of course.” Rockman finally responded, “But you have to call Netto ad seven am, seven thirty, and then eight and if he doesn’t answer and get out of bed by eight you have to call my mama, because then he won’t get up and he has school at eight-thirty. He needs to eat before he goes to school, and-”
Rockman took a breath, a very deep one, realizing the anxiety of the situation was causing him to talk extremely quickly. “And just make sure he actually gets out of bed, is all…”
He tried to hide the hint of sadness at the thought of missing a school day with Netto- especially his first one back- but failed at it. He bit his tongue. “And if I’m not out by lunch maybe give him another call, cause I’m sure he’s gonna be freaking out and stuff, and, just update him on whats going on- sorry to disrupt your business day, really I am but he hates to eat lunch without me, his appetite and all and- “
“Gah, I’m sorry. We’ll prolly be fine by lunch. No problem.” Despite letting Enzan close off the server, his fears were still with him. He was preparing for worst, even if he didn’t intend to. (He’d always felt like his existence here was so…fragile. Fleeting.)
He suddenly linked arms with Blues and sort of pulled him down, whispering at his hearing receptors: “There’s something wrong. Not just with you, but with me. We need to chat. You can let Enzan know later. Please, Blues. I don’t want to admit it in front of him, not yet, please.”
“…I’ll be up before seven. And I won’t keep you here if you are so worried.” Enzan said it flatly, unable to really engage in the speed of Rockman’s worries. “I’ll have you out of here by six. I’m not getting Netto up for school.” The idea was ridiculous.
Blues would never show it, but the coolness Enzan showed now made him squirm. If only one of them would just spit it all out instead of holding him in suspense as if he weren’t here!
He stood stoically as ever, his arms at his sides. Enzan excused himself, but he assumed his netop would not be going back to sleep. Most likely he would try to work. Blues’ fingers clenched. This was so much.
The physical contact was a bit of relief, but the whispers did nothing to explain. Why did he feel dangerous, like his data was still tearing itself apart? His chest was so heavy. Why couldn’t his memory data have just finished sorting itself as he slept? Enzan should have a program go through it manually–
His eyes met Rock’s. <Processing>
dededos
vaporwave
turnnoffyourmind
2087
romaincrisis
