( S U B J E C T ;
It's quiet. The hollow echo of insufficient noise is comforting, though. It's a reminder of the other children, who ran rampant in the city at night, leaving the safety of their two-story house. He worries little for their whereabouts, instead focusing on the barely stocked fridge and empty couch. With the hum of insects outside and the background noise of the television before him ( THE DEEP BLUE a documentary on the ocean, which had resulted in both interesting and terrifying him ), Miki was comfortable. Snacks littered the coffee table, bags of pretzels and chips and pocky lounging around for his pleasure. The idea of ' alone ' was warming, though he'd certainly begin to get itchy as the night went on, memories clawing behind his flesh as the moon continued to rise and the wolves continued to howl.
While is why, perhaps, he was slightly grateful for the knock at the door. Confused but only barely, cheeks lacked any appeal for the unknown guest. Fingers found the remote to pause the male narrative, pushing aside the thin blanket and making his way to the front door. Where, upon opening the grand block of dark wood, he'd find a familiar face, deeper uncertainty now written along his eyebrows. Lips would open to inquire the dark haired figure, but crimson blood would soon make it's way into his point of view, immediately forcing him to push aside all other questions and open the door wider. Still unsure why the other had taken Miki's house as a refugee, he welcomed him inside with the flick of a wrist.
"Well. We've got bandages." That was the best he could do.
