@risiox | (x)
“Don’t fret about the mug,” His concern is another, focus firmly kept on the injuries sustained by his guest. An item so cheap can be replaced, bought from the dollar store, there’s no sentimental value attached to it either. What bothers him is Kou’s constant indifference at getting hurt, a trait he didn’t think consider strange when they first met but over time, on repeated circumstances, hints at something deeper.
After picking up the pieces, he sweeps the floor, cleaning the spot to prevent the possibility of any further harm from happening. Fake laughter won’t convince him, nor he’ll play along; it has no soul on its tone, instead, displaying a heartbreaking hollowness. Hands are placed on each of his friend’s shoulders, begging for his attention, despite the doll-like absence on his person. If only he could help, if only his words reached him...
“Kouta, that wasn’t meant to be a scolding or complaint, you should know it well. I ask you, again and again, to be careful because I’m worried about you...”
